#but i don’t regret going all black at all ! it just feels like MY COLOUR YK ! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[garoujo]

thinking about dying my bleached section back to brown because it’s so damaged at this point even tho i love the way it looks :(((((( i’m sad it took so much work to get it the light blonde i wanted but it’s been six months since i’ve had it and i love it SO MUCH sob but i care more about keeping my hair healthy :/// relate? tell me i’ll look hotter with all black hair sob!!!!! did you feel weird when you dyed yours back ugh i just don’t wanna look boring with all one colored hair again!! like there’s nothing particularly unique about the way i look with all brown hair???

omigosh yes nonnie i totally get what u mean ໒꒰⑅ㅠ·ㅠ⑅꒱১ back when i had my white & black hair my white side was sooo damaged too but even now that i’m all black u can sooo tell it’s been bleached :< it just doesn’t still as well as the other side & still feels so dry even tho i use oils / leave in conditioner etc ! but all brown hair would look so amaze on u i’m so sure of it :3 i’m getting my roots done tomorrow thankfully so i’ll be all fresh but JOIN ME <333 you’re so pretty u could pull off anything !!! tbf i loved my split dye but i just feel like all black hair is totally for me :< idk if it’s cos i hav light eyes but i just feel like it suits me so much more than any other colour <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo. 

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them. 

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better. 

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description. 

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty. 

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return. 

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him. 

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.  

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay. 

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too. 

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual. 

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne. 

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.” 

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial. 

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do. 

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says. 

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king. 

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again. 

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.” 

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?” 

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you. 

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?” 

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it. 

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch. 

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt. 

“I don’t know the code,” you say. 

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.” 

You nod. 

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase. 

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.” 

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently. 

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning. 

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it. 

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--” 

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?” 

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds. 

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?” 

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards. 

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.” 

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling. 

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.” 

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means. 

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--” 

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.” 

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks. 

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.” 

[loveindefinitely]

— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ THREE OF HEARTS | könig x ghost x reader

✩ PART ONE / ACE OF SPADES

// read on ao3. fic playlist. series masterlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You can still taste the smoke on your lips.

The flavour of tobacco against your tongue, the spiralling smoke brushing your cheek. A hand in your hair, another between your thighs. One strong chest pressed against your own, the other laid onto the sheets between your legs.

A name spoken against your ear, another whisper muffled by your thighs.

Torture, in its rawest of forms – malicious and cruel and perfect. An agonising taunt of what could be, if not for regulations, rules; decorum and practicality. Right and wrong.

It had been two years since you’d seen the men that starred in your darkest of fantasies. Or, more precisely, six-hundred and thirty-eight days since you’d tasted them, breathed in the strong scent of their cologne.

But you weren’t counting.

You wouldn’t dare.

…Still.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, you’d spent, longing and hoping and dreaming of another moment. A possibility to be embraced, once more, by them. Even just a minute of their time, to speak, to ask if they felt the same instant connection you had.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days of waiting for this very moment.

“Sergeant, I’m sure you’re at least aware of Colonel König and Lieutenant Ghost,” your Commander speaks, elbows resting on his desk, hands folded underneath his chin as he studies you.

Your mouth is barren of moisture, all of it draining straight to where your clasped hands grow clammy in your lap. Without a word, you nod. Your Commander doesn’t comment, but his eyes narrow, and he releases a short exhale.

The room feels so small, now, his office like your own personal prison cell. Walls a fading beige, the seat beneath you a cracking leather – the stench of old paperwork. It’s a challenge not to cough from the dust.

“And I know that you’re well aware of your upcoming mission. Tomorrow, correct?” He asks, flipping through the stapled stack of paper before him, tongue peaking out to lick over his thumb as he skims over the fineprint. 

You nod once more, eyes nervously darting around the enclosed space. No windows? Seriously?

“You’re a smart woman,” he observes, with a small shrug of his shoulders, eyeing you curiously. “I think you know what I’m implying.”

The contracted mission, which had once been an infiltration, targeted approach, has turned into a long-term undercover one overnight. In fact, you hadn’t been informed of the drastic change until ten minutes ago.

Neither had you been informed of the two soldiers you’d be working with.

You didn’t know if you’d ever regretted something this deeply.

Ever.

“I don’t even know the details, let alone my cover,” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your civvies tank, “Isn’t this CIA shit, anyways? Why are we –”

“You know damn well why we need you three on this, and not just any agent,” Your Commander raises an unimpressed brow, and you slump further into your chair. He’s right, of course, but it doesn’t mean that it makes you feel any better.

The layers within this mission were nearly impossible to decipher.

A foreign terrorist – one growing a steady following within political groups and extremists – was pulling the strings of one of the most exclusive and profitable trafficking rings in the world. And he was doing it right underneath the public’s noses.

What the cover was hadn’t been known – until this morning.

“Read it yourself,” your Commander breathes exasperatedly, and with that tone, you know it’s not going to be pretty.

Tossing the paper over to your side of the desk, it skids to a soft stop right at the edge.

Flitting your gaze to the front page, your stomach sinks.

There, in printed, full colour – is them. They look unbelievably imposing, with their uniforms, and their masked faces.

You knew what was hidden beneath that black fabric.

The images aren’t the only thing to catch your abrupt attention, however, your focus instantly snatching on the cover stories. The… 

Oh. Fuck.

“Commander –”

He instantly raises a palm, and you bite your tongue, hesitantly reading the text from start to end. It doesn’t make the situation any better; somehow, it makes it worse – tenfold.

You speak before you can stop yourself.

“BDSM?” 

If all the blood has drained from your face, you’d be lucky to die on the spot. Because, truly, you can’t think of a better option. A bullet to the head, maybe? Arsenic in the water sat next to the contract?

Yeah. Anything is better than whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing tomorrow.

And for the indefinite future.

“I know that it’s impractical,” he tries to amend, obviously seeing the pure distraught written all over your features, “But it’s our safest bet. There’s thousands – millions of lives on the line here. And I’m sure you’re not alone in your�� hesitation, either.”

Chewing at your inner cheek, you nervously skim over the rest of the information, before skidding it back over to your Commander, running a hand down your face.

“I have to pretend,” you inhale, deep, “To be in a kinky throuple.” 

With the men who you’d done ‘kinky throuple’ shit with, went unsaid.

The man across from you winces. But he doesn’t deny it.

“That’s…” He seems to search for words, but comes out empty. He clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s… That’s pretty much. The cover story.”

He sounds highly uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but with sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and your mind reeling, you can’t find it in yourself to have any empathy. At least he didn’t have to infiltrate a fucking sex club.

Flashes of bare skin, scarred jaws, calloused hands –

“When’s the briefing?” 

The words fall from your lips in a breath, your subconscious need for information being set to default while the rest of your brain tries to play catch-up.

Looking down at the bulky, gluttonously gold watch adorning his wrist, your Commander grimaces, before looking back up to you with an apologetic frown. “It’s in five minutes. This morning’s been a rush, sorry, kid.”

Rising from your seat on unsteady legs, you accept your own copy of the papers with shaky hands. If your Commander notices the trembling, he doesn’t comment on it.

They feel heavier than any weight, the words in your hands – the words bearing down on your soul.

Attempting to make sense of it all is a fruitless effort, and trying to reason with it is just as impossible. How could you? When this undercover mission was likely going to be the most difficult one of your life? Was this the universe’s form of a taunt, a punishment?

Your Commander opens the door for you, the soft draft of the hallway allowing you to breathe. 

The stifled, stale air of his office gives way, and your shoulders loosen slightly from the tight posture they were in. Maybe everything will be fine. You won’t be in a fake relationship with the men who you had a relationship with, however short-lived, to stop a world-class terrorist.

…Totally.

Following your Commander tightly behind him, your mind a hurricane of emotions and anxiety, you chew at the inside of your cheek as you rack your thoughts for any sense of direction.

You, inevitably, come up empty.

Boots hitting the linoleum floor swiftly, the sound echoing around the empty space, you release short, calming breaths. Realistically speaking, this wasn’t going to be the cause of your death – you were a professional. You were one of the most skilled coveted ops agents for-hire, and what was this but just another aspect of your job?

Maybe this was exactly what you’d been hoping for – a real, substantial opportunity.

Maybe they’ve both forgotten you.

Your breath hitches at that thought.

It takes root in your mind instantly. What’s making you believe that they care, in the slightest, for you? What makes you think that one night of lustful desires could hold a flame to a proper relationship?

What if you were just that – one night? Nothing more of importance, or worth, to them?

“C’mon, kid,” Your Commander claps a comforting hand onto your shoulder, near dragging you into the briefing room. 

You’re just grateful that he takes your hesitation as an uneasiness about the cover story, and not the men you’ll have to execute it with. …Although, the cover story isn’t exactly a breeze, either, König and Ghost aside.

The air-conditioned meeting room feels like ice against your heated skin, the door closing behind both you and your Commander as he goes to take a seat at the head of the table, beside a woman of whom you haven’t seen before. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, a classic button-up adorning her torso as she flips through the files in front of her. 

When she looks up, she greets your Commander with a short nod, before giving one to you, too.

Other than her, the room is empty – and checking the decade-old clock on the wall, it seems like there’s only a minute until the official starting time.

Choosing the safest bet, a chair to the left of the elongated, wooden table, you sit in the middle. It feels like the best choice – not too close to the Commanders or any Chiefs.

You aren’t new to the concept of briefings; in fact, you’d likely been involved in more than any of the Sergeants you knew. 

Being an expert in the field of undercover and intelligence-based operations means that you attended more meetings than, say, an explosives expert. You have to know the smallest details; discuss them and pick them apart, add your own two cents.

Intelligence is something you pride yourself on – you break most stereotypes about the military, all in one go, and you aren’t ashamed of that. Book smart, progressive; a woman. 

It never fails to make you smile internally, the second-glances from the withering old men that held authority within your ranks. While you deal with the drawbacks every second you work, there are some benefits, you suppose.

The cushioned meeting chair is comfortable where you’re seated, hands folded dutifully in your lap as you await everyone else’s arrival.

Their arrival.

Door creaking open, your heart skips a beat in your chest as you instantly dart your gaze up.

You most definitely do not deflate when you see one of your Lieutenants walk in, instead of a specific one from the Task Force. …Or a six-foot-ten Colonel.

The logistics of this mission must’ve been insane to sort out. While KorTac and SpecGru are formally enemies, and actively enemies, too, there are under-the-table deals and trades made between the two behind closed doors.

This must be a prime example of such a decision.

König and Ghost – from those few hours you’d spent with them – had been amicable. That was putting it lightly; they definitely shared a few secretive, heated looks, even a kiss and a few strokes, too.

Maybe the whole forbidden thing was even more intense, for them? Being so explicitly enemies?

You weren’t exactly sure – still aren’t.

None of it makes any sense, which is a debilitating feeling, for someone who needs to know everything at all times. As best as you can, anyways.

Taking the spot directly in front of you, your Lieutenant gives you a kind smile. You easily reciprocate, even with your anxiety heightened, your thighs squeezing together underneath the shadows of the table.

The overhead lights are a harsh, grating white, and you feel a pounding headache incoming.

Your Commander and the woman seem to be engaging in a quick, near-silent conversation at the head of the table. They swap some papers around, narrow their gazes, raise brows. They’re… hostile, but not unbearably so – amicable enough not to cause a fight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The world doesn’t stop, time doesn’t freeze, but it’s a close thing with the way your heart stutters in your chest, your breath cutting off with your last inhale.

At the door, fist still raised, deep blue eyes and a sniper hood meet your startled gaze. The man’s eyes soften immediately when they catch onto yours, the greasepaint smeared around them doing nothing to hide the instant spark that lights within them.

He is, you distantly think, as breathtaking as you remembered him to be.

The top of his head is hidden behind the door frame, his height palpable even within the excessively tall roof of the building. His posture allows him to curl into himself, even with his fist still raised.

“We late?”

And –

Oh.

Oh.

König’s unbelievably large frame had taken the spotlight – but that wasn’t to say that the other man was any dimmer in your eyes.

Ghost. True to his name, his voice is a rough drawl, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest as his eyes dart around the room, before landing on…

You.

He doesn’t flinch; his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, actually, not even a hint of recognition in his dusky brown eyes. Just cold indifference, this side of disgruntled.

As if you’ve been frozen in time, you struggle to think, let alone breathe – like your life has been suddenly set to manual. With a quick jerk of a movement, you let your eyes zone out onto the mahogany in front of you.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – just in time,” the woman speaks succinctly, folding one leg over the other as she finally looks away from your Commander to gesture the two in.

Oh, what you wouldn’t give for a moment to process. To figure out the battlefield that is your head, and decide on your next actions – your feelings, too, the emotions of it all.

“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other yet!” Your Commander laughs, jovial, and you want to bang your head onto the table.

“...We are professionals.”

That Austrian accent – the thick, headiness of it, the lilt, the gentle tone – it’s one as familiar as your own. One that’s played in your mind, a constant, the memory of it spoken against your heated skin both a blessing and a curse.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, it had been.

“At killing.”

You can hear the side-eye, the bored tone, the guttural raspiness reminiscent of his hometown. The sarcasm, too, a core part of the very man’s existence.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days.

Your Commander is the only person in the room who laughs, clasping his hands together before waving the two over to join at the table. Looking up, for a split second, you nearly deflate when his eyes catch onto yours. The glint in them says everything you need to know.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – let me introduce you to Sergeant Star,” your Commander gestures towards you, and really, would melting into the floor be so bad?

Ghost raises a single brow, and your Lieutenant runs with it.

“Funny story, that,” he starts, and you barely restrain yourself from burying your head in your hands, “First mission. She somehow figures out who was sending the false intel for a case, and dismantled the whole bloody plan, made a new one. She was spot on, too.”

His smile turns shiteating as he leans further back into his chair, folding his hands over his chest. 

“When we got back onto base, Commander over there gave her a gold star for her troubles. Pretty good tradeoff, aye?”

“Leo,” you mutter under your breath, delivering your superior a vicious glare. 

Your Lieutenant – Leo – was more of an annoying older brother than anything else. Since that mission, he’d taken you under his wing; protected you like his own, too. He was a dickhead, but a solid one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Even when he pulls shit like this.

“That’s…” König folds into himself further, if that’s at all possible, as he looks to Leo. “Impressive. Very good.”

Ghost doesn’t say a word, instead, moving to sit in the chair next to your Lieutenant, and opposite you. König quickly follows his lead, sitting to your left with rough movements. A man of his size – to be graceful with anything was something of a miracle.

He’d been graceful when his hand had wrapped around your neck –

“Now that everyone’s here,” the woman cuts in, moving to stand and turn on the TV sat between her and your Commander, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The show is multiple images of the targets, some of the women that have been kidnapped, reports, and other important information. You catalogue it all, playing close attention to the names and circumstances of both the victims and the targets.

It’s going smoothly, until –

“The rules,” the woman whose name you’ve learnt is Laswell speaks, flicking to the next slide. Your stomach drops for a reason other than the two men sat at the table when you read its contents.

Rule One: Explicit consent must be given between pre-established partners, or any new partners if a scene is wished to be done.

Rule Two: Masks must be worn at all times, with safe alternatives if oral play is wish to be done.

Rule Three: A person’s inclination [Dominant, Verse, Submissive] must be displayed on a corresponding armband, which will be supplied at entry.

Rule Four: Access to the basement level may not be granted to anyone, unless a verification and acceptance process has been executed. No exclusions apply.

Rule Five: Submissives with a Dominant(s) must stay within eyesight at all times, unless a collar has been placed onto the Submissive marking ownership.

It feels as though someone’s scrambled the contents of your brain in an attempt to destroy your very essence – and your stomach feels as hollow as your heart as Laswell reads off the words on screen. She doesn’t falter once, unlike you, knuckles whitening against the tight fists forming in your lap.

König, nor Ghost, react outwardly. No hint of hesitance or uneasiness, just taking their professionalism in stride.

You feel like a fool.

“Ghost will be acting as the Dominant, König the Verse, and Star the Submissive,” Laswell states, matter-of-fact, as if your world didn’t start crumbling around you the moment you’d been called into your Commander’s office.

If you were at all in a state to laugh, you’d probably giggle at how suitable the roles are. They all aligned to That Night, and a distant part of you wonders if the three of you were just obvious with your tastes.

“We’ve rented an apartment four blocks away. When you start to inquire about the basement,” she flicks to the next slide once more, “They will follow you. Expect to have a shadow everywhere you go – and one that you don’t know is there, obvious or not.”

“You guys aren’t good people, as of tomorrow,” Your Commander chimes in, leaning forward on the table, looking between both König and Ghost. “You are interested in their side business, and Star,” he looks to you, “Is none the wiser. This only works if you follow through with that – and offer up her services as collateral.”

“You want us to pretend,” König shakes his head, looking dismayed, “To give the Sergeant to the ring?”

Silence.

And, then, “Yes.”

You were made aware, earlier, of course, that your role was going to be slightly different to that of the other two men. But you hadn’t actually expected something so… fucked.

“If this goes sideways –” Ghost speaks up, voice deep and raspy as his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, visible even with his mask, “ –We’re risking ‘er life.”

“I know what I signed up for,” you respond, finding your voice, however weak. “This is no different to a warzone. Just with less explosions, and more…” You struggle to find the words, “Mind games. Tactics are changing from bullets to rumours.”

He doesn’t try to debate it, just merely shrugs indifferently and slides his smooth gaze back over to the two at the front.

As if he hadn’t felt you cum around his cock; heard you moan his name while he left bites over your neck.

Bastard.

The meeting goes on much the same, with more information on the plan as a whole. It makes sense, to you, and you know that you’ll be able to get it done.

König and Ghost, however, that haunting spectre that was them, feel like a road block.

Ghost, from what you had gathered, was either ignoring your existence for some selfish reason, or had completely forgotten about That Night.

You simultaneously find it hard to believe that your time together was that forgettable, and that it was truly something special. It has, after all, been six-hundred and thirty-eight days. Maybe he was used to such intimacy, although you find it hard to believe, it is a possibility.

Then, there’s König – his eyes, the way he almost reeled back at the sight of you, told you enough.

He remembered. Clear as day.

But whether or not he cares at all, or wants to discuss your past at all, is a whole other story. Maybe he just wants to brush it under the rug, forget it ever happened, and move on.

As much as one could move on when pretending to be in a relationship, that is.

“You will head to your apartment by eighteen-hundred, tomorrow night, and get yourselves situated. The club opens at nineteen-hundred, so an hour or so after that is reasonable,” Laswell says, finishing off on the debrief.

Her eyes find all of you.

“There’s a lot riding on this. This isn’t like any mission any of you have executed before – but we have faith that you will execute this with precision and care.”

The words sit in your soul like a reminder; a way of steering you the right direction.

A few words are exchanged after that, some questions, some answers. Leo will be serving as your operator, in charge of communications and resources for the mission. At the back of your mind, you’re grateful for the distant support of your Lieutenant.

It’s when everything’s wrapped up, and you’re falling back as everyone files out of the room, that a presence behind you has you freezing up.

Ghost.

“If you’re not up for the mission, just say so instead of draggin’ us down,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear the grain of his low, impatient voice. “This is important, Sergeant, and if your head is elsewhere –”

“You don’t remember?” Your voice comes out tight, impatient, upset. 

His shoulder checks yours as he passes.

“What’s there to remember?”

taglist. @thegreyjoyed @hayleybarnesx

[m3ntally-unstable]

can you write a drew starkey x fem!reader imagine where drew has a crush on the reader and he has for a while, but he doesn't think the reader likes him back until one day he like drunk confesses or just impulsively tells her? <3

A/N : Yes I will try (I’ve never written before) I’m sorry I’m so late on this I’m just so nervous to write stuff 😭😭

I love you..

Drew starky x fem!Reader

Warnings:- drinking,use of y/n , drew being drunk most of the time, some insta posts (tell me if I’m missing anything.)

__________________________________________

having a well-known acting career and appearing in TV series such as Vampire Diaries, Stranger Things, and Ginny and Georgia, I've had my fair share of romantic relationships and crushes on coworkers.

I have had both positive and negative emotions from every person I have dated. Nonetheless I still have a lot of my partners as friends, though.

When I got casted on outerbanks, I was already working on a project which required all of my time in another state in a whole ,leading to me having to decline the role.

After finishing said project , and sulking over not excepting the offer i got a call from my agent telling me that I was getting handed a role,a really good one .No audition needed. As the love interest of a rich playboy (wonder who that is).

———//———//———//———//———//———//—

“What exactly is the show again?…” I asked annoyed that I was being disturbed from my beauty sleep.

“Firstly I never told you aaand secondly it’s for.. outerbanks!”

What.

The show I declined? The show that made me regret doing my previous project instead of it? The show where my college crush- AHEM. right where was I

“Hellooo? You there y/n?..”

“Uhhh yeah sorry. You can call back and say yes”

“I already did. I was just telling you”

“Wow oka-“

——————————————————————-

Originally I believed that when I joined the cast of the outerbanks drew starkey would forget about me, but judging off of the happy smile on his face when he saw me or how his eyes softened when I talked about something I was interested in told me otherwise. I was finally gonna tell him. Tell him I l-

Actually I just shouldn’t go! Yeah. Why face the embarrassment of drew not feeling same! Yeah that’s smar-

Ting!

Madisyn bby

Girl, we need to go shopping for

Dresses ASAP . It’s already 3

And the party IS AT 9

You

Woah woah ok I’ll

Meet you out in 5😭

Madisyn bby

That’s what I thought

You

Yeah yeah 😒

Madisyn bby

GET READY!!

Read 12:45

__________________________________________

“Ok , red or black?” I asked with hesitation on the choices i had just tried on. “Definitely black girl, you look so hot” madisyn replied “maybe match it with some green?” Elaine said “that would look so good” Maddie added with a wink towards Elaine.

“Hey hey what’s up with the winking” I asked panicked “oh you know just Drew’s favourite colour..” madisyn mumbled out. I felt my eye twitching at the three of them I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks

“god you guys” I blushed and ran into the changing room soon hearing the laughter of the 3 girls.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed girlie pop” Elaine teased “easy for you to say your already dating someone ” I whined

———————————————————————Elameeeee

°

°

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elameeeee had too much fun shopping with my girls for season wrap party

Y/nuser I will find you.

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———————————————————————————————————

As soon as I walked into the venue of the party the only that came to mind was my insecurities. Would Drew ever like someone like me? Someone who isn’t as pretty as his ex’s?

Instead of overthinking maybe I should just drink it away .yeah that sounds goo-

“Y/N!”

God what is with people and interrupting me today?! I turned around and looked around not seeing anyone who seemed to be calling my name

“Over here!” I turned a bit to the right and saw

Drew.

Oh my. No no no. I’m not ready yet I was still in the middle of overthinking.

He came running up to me with the cutest grin on his face “hey.” He said out of breath “hi Drew” I responded while looking down because I could feel the blood rushing up.

“You- uh you look beautiful ” he stuttered out after actually taking a good look at my dress. If I wasn’t blushing earlier I sure am now.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself starkey” I giggled out trying to regain my confidence.

I couldn’t help but notice the small blush spread across his face after hearing my comment. God that’s so embarrassing, why did I even say that.

“DREW MY MAN!” I hear non other than Rudy come up. Rudy was nice , I saw him as my best friend, like a brother, Rudy and I were two pods in a pea, me and him grew up together in Atlanta and only moved apart because of high school, we still often texted and chatted but it never felt the same as being with him in person

“RUDY!” I squealed

“Y/n!” He rushed into my arms and pulled me into his into his tight embrace “oh my god , I missed you so much”

He chuckled “I missed you too n/n” he pulled back “look at you, miss hell on wheels”

“You guys know eachother?” Drew asked “yeah, me and Rudy grew up together” I responded Rudy agreeing with me “oh okay..”

“So um let’s head inside?”

———————————————————————

It was currently 1:25 am and observing how everyone was almost knocked out , except for jd and me obviously, who else was going to take care of them?

“I’ll order a Uber for Rudy and Elaine , you should stay with drew,the girls and me , it’s not a problem” JD offered

“Yeah That’d be great , thank you jd” he nodded

Now , the biggest challenge of all, getting them back to the apartment. Sigh, why am I even here.

“Drew come on , let’s go”

“Ughnnn, no I don’t wanna” he wrapped his arms around my waist and stared into my eyes

“Drew-” he put his head into the crook of my neck. God I can feel his breath. It’s okay , just get him back to the apartment and done

“Y/n Come on let’s go!” JD honked from the car

“Come on drew” I practically dragged him out, but what surprised me that he didn’t let go. “Drew let go”

“Nghhhh” he somehow just cuddled in deeper to me

This is going to be a long night.

———————————————————————

Having to drag this 80kg man down a hallway into a bed is like doing bodybuilding.

“Come on Drew go to bed”

“Don’t leaveeeee” he whined

I sighed out of frustration, “okay cmon big boy let’s go to bed” I stepped into bed and stayed on my side of the bed, not wanting it to be awkward.

He tried wrapping his arms around me “heyyy, come closer”

“Drew what has gotten into you” I mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and stuffed his head into the crook of my neck like earlier today

“You know drew im so gonna make fun o-”

“Do you and Rudy have something going on” he spoke clearly for the first time that night.

WHAT?!

“What are you on about drew.” He still waited for a response “no!” He sighed like he was holding his breath and leaned back into my shoulder.

“I love you” his voice came muffled but , I knew what he said, if it wasn’t so dark , he would’ve seen how red I’d become just from that one comment

“Drew come on your drunk-”

He lifted his head “I mean it.”

Oh my god. Is the world spinning? I can’t breathe!. Okay , no calm, he’s drunk he doesn’t mean it. Your okay yea-

Suddenly I felt lips on mine, it took me a moment to realise what was happening and I kissed back. no this is wrong, I pulled away

“Drew we can’t do this.. not again”

“Y/n , I know you feel it, please.”

I paused thinking of what to say , hearing him plead with his puppy eyes under the moonlight was intoxicating

“Drew your drunk, I won’t do anything, until I know you mean it”

Drew didn’t respond, he slowly made a Noice of confirmation and understood where I was coming from and put his head back down to its original position.

I knew he wasn’t sleeping but it was peaceful knowing we were just lying there. I felt my eyes get heavy but before I let slumber take me I said

“Hey drew..”

“Hmm”

“Tell me that again tomorrow”

I felt him smile against my neck and muzzle into me more

“Ofcourse”

———————————————————————-

The next morning , i woke up with Drew still having his arms wrapped around me and a particular instagram post that made me actually realised what was happening

Rudeth

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Rudeth saves this wiles you can people , before y/n wakes up and kills me #y/drew

@y/nuser and @drewstarkey

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Not proofread

[bouquetface]

SAGITTARIUS RISING:

Planets in first house. Placement & aspects towards chart ruler will all change the accuracy of this description. Lmk if your experience with or as a sag risings.

Appearance

Some believe due to Pluto’s influence from 1995 to 2008, sag rising individuals born during this time are likely to appear scorpio-like. In my experience, these individuals still clearly separate from scorpio risings.

A sag rising is a mutable fire sign. They are likely to often change their style. Make impulsive and/or “wild” choices in life and appearance. For example:

🔥 Sag risings tend to gravitate towards tattoos. Due to their fiery nature, they may get impulsive tattoos. Not as likely to be into the style of one BIG piece of artwork tattoo. More smaller, doodle-like tattoos.

🔥 You know how some people plan out their tatts for months & think about a deeper meaning for the art? Sag rising may have a few of those but they’ll also just get what they want just because they fucking want it. A friend pulls out a tattoo gun at a party, yeah they’re probably down. They don’t need months to think about should i or should i not.

🔥 My sag rising friend once said before getting their tatt, “I don’t need to wait until someone dies, I’m just going to get this because I love Fight Club”. The tatt was loosely inspired by the film.

🔥 Sag risings may gravitate towards hair dye. Unlike other signs, sag rising are more likely to go for unnatural hair colours (blue, green, purple, pink, etc). Due to their mutable nature, they may like changing up their hair colour &/or style more often than most.

This is my experience with GEN Z sag risings. Sag risings born before 1995, are almost nothing like this. They do like to change up their look but not in such bold and permanent ways.

For ex: If they dye their hair, it’s a natural colour (brown, black, blonde, red). More likely to get highlights than full on bleach their hair.

When they get a tattoo, they often get it in a common area of the body. Keep it easy to hide. Less likely to undergo a big, bold, permanent &/or transformative physical change. If they do, they generally keep it hidden.

For ex: I know a sag rising born before ‘95, they have a cosmetic surgery done. However, they keep this a secret. They desire both the big, bold look & the natural look.

An old school sag is more likely to express that abundant nature of their ruler Jupiter through hair. Men and women may have very long hair. Yet, they may wake up one day and randomly decide to buzz it.

Personality

Keep in mind this will be influenced by the ENTIRE chart.

Generally, these individuals are prone to feel FOMO. They love experiences. Better to regret having done it than regret not having done anything is more their motto. They can be the most entertaining people.

They can develop fun, humorous and charming personality. It’s likely for a sag rising to have friends in various places across the world. They make friends every where they go.

Sometimes, they can be identified through their communication style. Their jokes and language can be vulgar at times. They may swear a lot without realizing it. This is strongly affected by their mercury placement though.

This extroverted nature could be affected by other placements. In my experience, when these individuals aren’t extroverted & popular, they deeply desire to be welcomed.

The sag rising purpose is to wander and gather as much as information possible. Explore various places, ideals, people and philosophies.

They are likely to philosophize their lives. Questioning what is the meaning of this event? Why did that happen?

Generally, they are open minded & optimistic. However, if a sag rising feels they’ve come to a good conclusion from their experiences, they can come off as arrogant & close minded.

They can preach their philosophy - this can be perceived as talking too much & being argumentative. An extreme version of this is a cult leader. A more common version is someone who is passionate and wishes to share their knowledge.

[backtotheshitshow]

Ghost Clothes Part3: The Auditorium

(Wally clark x reader)

Warning: angsty, miscommunication.

Part1 part2 part4

Wally found himself on the bleachers, over thinking everything that happened on the field the night before. What is he even supposed to do when he feels like this? He’s not even 100% sure what he’s feeling.

“Hey Wally!” The boy hears from down on the field. It’s Y/n, she’s dressed in new clothes and some how looks even more beautiful than last night. The girl walked up the bleachers to meet him. Now that she was closer he could really get a good look at her clothes. The shirt she had last night had been cut to make it cropped, she wore grey high top converses and her pants were similar to ones Dawn wears, except they were a washed out black colour.

“Nice clothes.” Wally compliments.

“Thanks, we couldn’t find anyone, so Dawn ended up doing the sewing and high wasted flared jeans are apparently the only pants she knows how to make.” Y/n explains with a laugh.

Wally chuckled and looked out at the field, his mind filling with thoughts all over again.

“You okay Wally?”

“Yeah..yes sorry, I’m just thinking. “ the boy mumbles running his hand through his hair. Why was he freaking out so much, he was supposed to be the cool charming guy, so what the fuck is happening?

“What’s on your mind?” Y/n asked, concerned about how stressed Wally seemed.

“Yesterday, out on the field…was-was that a date?” Wally regretted asking immediately. He saw Y/n’s expression change for concern to surprise out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh um.” Y/n began. “Well Wally I…you didn’t really ask for it to be a date and I only met you yesterday but-“

“I’m sorry, I was just unsure…excuse me” Wally gets up to leave quickly, making his way down the bleachers steps.

“ Wally wait!” Y/n called after him, causing Wally to stop in his tracks. “Wally I’m not saying that I don’t-“

“ it’s okay, Y/n. You don’t need to explain, like you said we only met yesterday-“

“Wally you’re not listening, I’m trying to tell you that if you-“

“Look I get it, Y/n. I’m just gonna go have some alone time, okay.” Wally turns and leaves, a sad puppy expression on his face.

“Wally!” Y/n called, but he didn’t respond. “Shit”

…

It’s been three days, who the hell take alone time for three days. Y/n couldn’t find Wally anywhere, she’d check the field everyday and the library and the cafeteria and every classroom, yet he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh my, you look stressed.” Y/n heard Dawn say as she past her in the hallway.

“I am” y/n replies as she continues walking.

“Is it Wally?” Dawn asked, twirling her hair around he finger as she walked beside Y/n.

“How did you know?”

“ He seems upset too.” Dawns words made y/n stop.

“You’ve seen him? Where?”

“In the auditorium”

“Dawn, you’re a legend.” Y/n sprinted off towards the auditorium.

…

Y/n opens the doors to the auditorium, scanning every inch of the large room for the jock. And there he was, middle row, hunched over forward. Y/n made her way over to him slowly, eventually sitting in the seat next to him. Wally doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, he just continues to stare at the floor.

“Wally.” Y/n says gently.

“I’m sorry I stormed off. I was just upset.” The boy voiced, still looking at the ground.

“You never let me explain.” Y/n says

“I know” Wally looks up at y/n, his eyes watery and sad. “It’s just…I’ve been hear for so long and even though I have friends I still feel lonely, like I’m missing something. I guess after we had such a nice time…I don’t know, I had hope that maybe I wouldn’t have to feel alone like that anymore.”

Y/n’s heart hurt for the boy, he had so much pain with no one to help heal it. “ you can take me on official date.” Y/n says.

“What?” Wally asks.

“That’s what I was trying to say Wally. You never asked me for that night to be a date and I’d only met you that day, but you can definitely take me on an official date, that’s if you’re not mad at me anymore” Y/n tells the boy.

“I was never mad at you, I was just… kinda heartbroken.” Wally confesses.

“Heartbroken? Over me? How could you be heartbroken over me Wally?”

“Because, even though I only met you that day, by the end of the night it felt like I’d know you my whole life. Well my whole death.” Wally glanced at Y/n lips and back at her eyes. “You’re just amazing Y/n.” Wally leaned closer painfully slowly. Y/n could feel his breathe on her lips, so warm and comforting.

“You guys are adorable.” The ghosts were startled apart.

“Dawn, what are you doing here?” Wally asked annoyed.

“I had to know what you two were so stressed about.” She explains.

“Okay well now you know, would you mind giving us some privacy?” Y/n requests.

“okay, see you later”

Wally sighed. “So um.. the date?”

“you can come get me from the field tomorrow at 6.” Y/n says

“Tomorrow at 6, cool.“ Wally gives a big grin.

Y/n gets up, giving Wally a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving.

[paintersknife]

Ashes to Ashes

“I’m sorry Mr Anselm,” 

He doesn’t hear the voice, his lilac eyes fixed on what the man is holding in his hands. A flower lantern. He had promised her.

“It’s the only thing that survived the fire.”

With trembling fingers, he reaches out to take it, holding it in his palm almost reverentially. His expression is so calm that it’s eerie, the servant excusing himself awkwardly. He doesn’t notice him leaving. 

The lantern, once beautifully crafted and coloured in her favourite colours (he always wondered why she liked purple so much) lays in his hand, trembling in the breeze like a dying butterfly. It’s in a sorry state, crushed and burned, the ink from the inscription running from where someone had presumably tried to put out the blaze. Even after all this, he can still make out the words, written in that delicate handwriting of hers. May the coming days be as filled with wonderful memories as today.

What were the last words he had said to her? He can’t even remember. Some perfunctory goodbye probably, meant to be temporary, just a reassurance that he would be back soon. What did she say to him? Had she asked him to come back soon? Told him that she would miss him? Had she asked him not to go? To stay with her? He can’t remember. He’ll never know now.

In a daze, his feet take him to the room that she loved to watch him paint in, the one that opened to the courtyard with the wisterias they both loved. There’s nothing there now, just ash and dust. Just like her.

Finally his legs give out and he slumps to the floor, not caring if the soot stains his white robes. Black on white. An echo of her. The relic he had left her to find slips from his bag and clatters to the ground, but he ignores it. The last one we needed, but what’s the use of it if I don’t have you? The lantern is cupped in his palms like the most precious thing in the world, tiny, fragile, tissue thin. To him, it’s an irreplaceable treasure. This is all I have left, the only thing that shows you existed.

She didn’t want him to go. He knew this, and still he went, hiding his selfish desire for her behind the guise of giving her her freedom. He told her that, and still he was terrified that she would choose to leave him anyway, but he knew, he always knew. She was content to be by his side, to watch him as he painted endless worlds for her, to lay her head in his lap as he put brush to paper, undisturbed by his small movements as he did his best to capture every ounce of the world’s beauty, all for her.

Sobs burst from his lips, the sound louder than he thought he could ever make. His shoulders heave and he gasps for breath, the weight and magnitude of his regret a weight that constricts and crushes. There’s an emptiness in him, a grief so terrible that he can’t remember what it feels like to be whole.

He wishes he could cry an endless river of tears, enough to extinguish the fires that had devoured her. None come.

Did you know what was happening to you?

Did you suffer?

Did you call my name in the dark?

Did you wait for me to answer you?

Did you cry when you realised I wasn’t coming?

I should have been there.

I should have been beside you.

I left you.

I left.

They never gave us an elaboration for what happened when Cael came home, so here.

[michellemisfit]

Tag Game Wednesday

Thank you @spookygingerr for making this week’s tag game, and @energievie @lingy910y @jrooc @suzy-queued @deedala @crestfallercanyon for tagging me

this wednesday's tag game we're talking hairrrr 👩🏻‍🦰

what is your current hair like?

@rutherinahobbit just gave it a bit of a re-dye so it’s mostly dark brown, with some bleached streaks. It’s got a bit a low key Cruella deVille / Skunk vibe going for it :)

what is your natural hair like?

Brown. Straight. With a cowlick front right.

what’s you favourite hair style/colour you’ve had?

Ah man, don’t make me pick! So much of my hair has been awesome!

Ultimately I think it was my rainbow faux hawk though. That was AWESOME!

And then I gave Jerry the Alpaca a matching hair do when I took him to Pride. Good times.

what hair style/colour do you find most attractive on other people? (if you have a preference)

I love intricate braids (because I suck at doing them!!!) and undercuts and colours. Just… interesting stuff, y’know? Think Natalie Dormer in Mockingjay!

what’s your biggest hair regret?

I don’t really have any. It’s hair. If you dye it and it looks bad you can cut it. If you cut it and it looks bad you can cut it again. Worse things have happened at sea, y’know? But I was pretty said when I eventually found a single exception to my claim up to that point of ‘I can pull off any hair colour, platinum blond to jet black…’ - turns out I can NOT pull of ginger. That was sad. Was ginger for two days and freaked the shit out of myself and Ruth every time we looked at my hair. Dyed it dark auburn very sharpish after lol 🤷🏽‍♂️

what’s the longest your hair as ever been?

I never felt very girly, and therefore I never wanted to have long hair. Also I hated my mother brushing my hair (so painful!!) so the shorter the better. Then I got a bit older and tried growing it out. This is the longest it ever got. That’s me at… 17/18 maybe?

what’s the shortest your hair has ever been?

We had an open day at the farm where we sheared sheep and humans for charity. It was so much fun!! This is me and my sheep Willow, before and after.

what’s your go to style when you’re due a hair wash?

Alice band. Which ironically always leads to people telling me how cute I look. And then I feel the need to confess that I had to Alice band the hair because it was just THAT filthy, it couldn’t be loose anymore… hahaha

That was fun! I’m tagging @rutherinahobbit @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx @vintagelacerosette @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @palepinkgoat @crossmydna @celestialmickey @creepkinginc @rereadanon @the-rat-wins @tsuga-of-mars @ian-galagher @iansw0rld @ohkate @lynne-monstr @faejilly @sickness-health-all-that-shit @junemermaid @blue-disco-lights @sleepyfacetoughguy @francesrose3 @stocious @thepupperino

[fadingreveries]

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch2: Welcome to Cordonia (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Riley travels to Cordonia, but what will await her there?

Word Count: 1.2k

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

~ ~ ~

After packing her bags and leaving her New York apartment behind, Riley found herself on a plane with Maxwell and Drake. She gazed in awe at the cream-coloured leather seats, dark oak tables, and a complete minibar with beverages she could only have dreamed of consuming in her lifetime. It was clear that she had underestimated just how lavish their lives were back home. 

“Say ‘goodbye’ to New York and ‘hello’ to Cordonia!” Maxwell exclaimed, his arms stretched out wide in front of him and still as eager as ever. 

It turned out that not only was he Liam’s fairy godmother on his bachelor party night, but he had now undertaken the new position of Riley’s fairy godmother on her way to Cordonia. He felt very satisfied with the good he was spreading in their lives. Better this than to cause more mischief and mayhem, as Bertrand would put it.

Riley leaned back in her chair, hugging herself tighter with her leather jacket around her. She was dressed in a magenta blouse and black jeans, yet she was slightly shivering. She wasn’t even all that sure if it was because of the air conditioning cranked up high or because of her nervous but excited energy. 

She was surprised by her spontaneity at that moment and still couldn't process where she was. “I can’t believe this is actually happening…”

Riley knew it was a risky decision to choose. She didn’t know what the future held in Cordonia or what her relationship with Liam would unfold into. But she knew better that to never have tried for something she truly wanted was to regret it for the rest of her life.

“Believe it. We’ll be landing soon, ready or not. And if you’re not ready, those ladies at court are going to eat you alive,” Drake responded, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Metaphorically speaking, anyway. But Drake had seen things pretty close to it. In front of other members of the court, noble ladies dished out compliments and gave out diplomatic answers to every question like it was second nature. Being close to Liam showed him the other side of them which involved a lot more name-calling, sabotaging, two-faced conversations, and downright dragging others’ self-esteem across the cold ground.

It was something that rubbed him the wrong way whenever he got an occasional glimpse of it. It was just a constant reminder to him that no one at court could ever really be trusted. If Riley was gonna stick around, she might as well know the ropes as early as she could. 

Maxwell knew he was being a Debbie downer again. Or as little Maxwell liked to put his own little twist on it when he was six-years-old, a “Drakey downer.” Maxwell shushed him, putting his finger up to his lip. “Yeesh, don’t scare her, Drake. You okay, Riley?”

“Honestly… I’m terrified,” Riley admitted, suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. “I met you all just last night and suddenly… I’m uprooting my whole life for a competition in a country halfway across the world. I feel like I’m a little over my head for doing this.”

Drake scowled, scoffing as if he almost saw her answer coming. It was exactly the point he kept bringing up to Maxwell when he said Riley would be joining them. “I knew it. She’s not gonna last a week. It’s a waste of time bringing her if she’s not even sure of herself being here.”

“I don’t get why you’re being so grim about this,” Riley muttered, frowning as she looked Drake in the eye. “Is it really as bad as you say it is?”

Seeing the genuinely hurt look on her face, Drake took a second to breathe and rethink his sudden hostility towards her. It wasn’t anything personal. He just knew this kind of risky decision-making only ended in disaster for people. 

Mostly, he didn’t want it to negatively affect Liam. He knew Liam hesitated to talk about his feelings in front of others, but Drake could always see the truth in his eyes. No way in hell was he going to let anything hurt him. 

Shaking his head, Drake sighed. “Look, no offense, but I’ve seen girls like you come and go. It never ends well. Not for you, not for Liam, not for the royal family.”

Maxwell had only met Riley the night before but besides Liam, he was quite possibly her only advocate for her time in Cordonia. He didn’t even want to think about how Bertrand was going to react knowing he had technically plucked a random girl from New York to compete in being the next queen of their kingdom. 

In a protective manner, Maxwell frowned and retorted, “Riley’s not some crown-chaser. She and Liam have something real. I saw it last night with my own two eyes. And if they don’t believe it, you can personally bring me to the eye doctor to get my 20/20 vision rechecked. Everyone knows that’s just one of my amazing assets.”

“Drake… I’m different from those girls. Liam being a prince doesn’t matter at all to me,” Riley softly said.

The boy she learned to love that one special night was just Liam to her. She knew the title and his responsibility to Cordonia was a large part of his life, but she knew that she would have fallen in love with Liam regardless of what his title was. 

Pointing an ironic finger at her, Drake leaned back in his seat and remarked, “That’s exactly the kind of naive thinking that’s going to land you in trouble here.”

Just then, the pilot announced the plane’s descent. Sliding open the window for a brighter view of outside, Maxwell peered out. He knew it was something that Riley would find fascinating and hopefully, it would calm her slight nerves for her big journey ahead. A little boost for her spirits. 

“Hey, look! You can see Cordonia out the window! Riley, you won’t want to miss this!” Maxwell said, gesturing her over to join him by the window. 

Making her way towards Maxwell’s spot, Riley craned her head to get a better look of the scenery. She gasped in wonder, taking note of the various shades of blue and turquoise in the ocean surrounding the country. The beige and tan stone buildings with roofs of orange and sandy colours immediately caught her eye. There was an expansive wealth of healthy forests with their dark green foliage. She could even see the large white and gold glamour of the royal palace’s architecture from where the airplane hovered over. 

“That’s Cordonia? It’s like something out of a fairy tale!” Riley exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with even more enthusiasm by every new sight she saw. “The sparkling ocean, the swaying trees—”

“If you burst into song, I’m jumping out of the plane,” Drake interrupted her, although he was a little relieved to see that any trace of her nervousness faded away. 

“I’m just saying it’s beautiful,” Riley commented, her mouth still slightly agape and her eyes fixated on the sights below. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Maxwell agreed, before turning to observe her. It was exactly what she needed to get excited over her new start. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Riley answered with a grin, feeling like she could handle anything thrown in her way.

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: @kingliam2019 @princess-geek @karahalloway @twinkleallnight @tinkie1973 @tessa-liam

[juyeoniemyhoney]

edge of desire

Perhaps it is time to tell your best friend that you're in love with him. It might not go well, but there is an edge to desire, and you might just be standing right in front of it.

pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: ANGST, maybe fluff?, pining, silly little thing i wrote because music gets me in my feels

warnings: none

word count: 2239 words

honey's notes: I write too much Wonwoo fluff...... it's time for pain!!!!!!!!! also i havent written anything that i've liked this much in a while... finally feeling talented again hehe

-

“Who was your first love?”

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, not completely expecting Wonwoo to spring such a loaded question on you.

You contemplate for a while, really dig deep to answer his question as best as you can, but it all is for naught as you decide to lie instead.

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before, Wonwoo,” you finally say after a long pause. With his head heavy against your lap, Wonwoo seems displeased with your answer. You quickly try to appease him with more explanation.

“I think I’ve liked many people before—,” you pause, gulp down the words that attempt to crawl its way out of your throat, light on its paws like a leopard ready to pounce. “—but to me, love is more of a choice than something that just happens, you know?”

Wonwoo remains silent, his lack of words so telling of his desire for you to continue speaking. A breeze sweeps past the two of you and you feel the metal park bench sear your skin as the setting sun beats against your back. The warm breeze tousles Wonwoo’s hair, wisps of black falling over his closed eyes and ghosting his long eyelashes. You almost burrow your fingers deep into the soft strands, the sight of it too enticing for you to resist but somehow, you manage to pull yourself from your daze and clench your fist around your shirt instead.

Perhaps if you weren’t lying to him you would feel more comfortable to run your fingers through his hair like you usually do.

“Okay," he says pointedly, though you know he doesn't mean to be sharp. "Then have you chosen to love anyone before?” Wonwoo corrects himself and presses as gently as he can. Suspicions rise within you as to why he is suddenly so curious about who you have loved before. You almost allow your poor heart to hope again, to believe that maybe this curiosity stems from love itself, a love that Wonwoo holds for you.

“You. I will always choose to love you,” is what you burn to say. The words scratch at your throat, nails digging into flesh and drawing blood in its attempt to escape from the tip of your tongue. Your lips, however, are relentless and stubborn.

“I’ve never really thought about it, Wonwoo,” is the lame answer you decide on. Eyes dropping from the sky to his closed eyelids. In your fragmented mind, you imagine Wonwoo’s eyes, all the colours coming together slowly and easily as you paint them in your head, almost lifting your hands to follow the brush strokes against a canvas that you have perfected again and again when Wonwoo’s eyes plagued your mind in the middle of the night and all you could do was paint them over and over and over again.

“Think about it now,” Wonwoo supplies, opening his eyes to look straight into yours. He springs up from your lap, eager and curious in the way he always is around you and you swear, you almost let the words slip past the cage of your mouth.

The thing about Wonwoo and you is that if you were to ever tell him that you’ve been in love with him since forever, he wouldn’t take it well. The two of you have grown up together after all and the man has established what he likes in a partner over and over again (which, you regret to admit, is the complete opposite of you).

The other thing is that Wonwoo knows everyone who has come and gone from your life. He knows your every feeling, sometimes even before you know you’re feeling that way. So, lying really is out of the options. Not that you had options to begin with.

“Why don’t you tell me about your first love first, Wonwoo? Maybe then, I’ll be more encouraged.”

Wonwoo sends you a lame look, eyes narrowed in a faux glare for turning his question on him. You laugh and reach to ruffle his hair but catch yourself halfway and settle on patting his shoulder instead.

“Okay, fine.” He sits up and faces the lake before you, shoulder brushing up against yours as he leans back against the bench. If you tilt your head a little bit to the right, your head will be on his shoulder and you curse him for sitting so close to you when there is still so much space on the bench. You keep your eyes on the glittering lake and try to ignore the way his arm feels pressed up against your own.

“I know this is crazy to say but I think my first love was Jieun,” Wonwoo answers with a sheepish smile, eyes dropping from the lake to his twiddling fingers, then back up to look at you when you don’t say anything.

You meet his eyes and feel yourself break a little inside when the setting sun meets his irises and sets them ablaze, the usual dark brown lighting up to a mesmerising shade of amber that you memorise and pray you remember to paint later.

“Why do you say so, Woo?” you ask despite yourself. You cringe at your use of his nickname, something you had decided to haphazardly add in an attempt to seem unfazed by his confession. You wish it had been you. You always wish it was you.

“I don’t know,” he deflects. But he does know and it is so evident in the eager way he parts his lips to speak about her, in the way he readjusts himself in his seat, a habit of his you have ingrained in your brain along with everything else that has to do with him.

“I mean— she was my first girlfriend. So, I guess she was the first person I chose to love,” he continues. “I chose to put myself out there, despite the fact that I had, like a hundred percent chance of being rejected. But I think choosing to bare your soul to that person is the first step in loving, if that even makes sense.”

Wonwoo’s words silence you. You contemplate all of the times you had worked up the courage to tell him, only to chicken out and keep your feelings to yourself. You were always so afraid of losing him you guess you didn’t realise you were invalidating your love for him, and in turn, his love for you.

Because Wonwoo would understand, he of all people wouldn’t shut you out and shun you away just because he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. In fact, Wonwoo would feel bad for not feeling the same way as you. Because he’s Wonwoo, so fiercely kind and compassionate, so understanding and warm and loving, the one and only person who was able to shake up your rock-hard heart and melt it down into easy and pliable, the one person who was able to make you fall in love.

“Okay, now it’s your turn—“

“You,” you say without hesitation, fuelled by his words and your realisation. Wonwoo turns to you in confusion first before he finally gets it, mouth previously ajar to express his confusion zipping shut as soon as he realises.

You don’t look at him, eyes trained on the lake and the small ripples in water the fish make when their little fins break the surface tension. But you feel his eyes bore into you, gaze soft and already apologetic and you exhale harshly at the thought of Wonwoo feeling sorry for not realising how you’ve been feeling for the past six years.

“But I don’t think you’re my first love. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve loved anyone other than you, Wonwoo," you say, baring your heart and soul to the one man you have ever loved, to the one man you will continue to love forever.

"I don't even know when it started," you continue when Wonwoo remains unnervingly silent. "Maybe it was when we ran in the rain hand in hand when we were twelve. Or maybe, it was when you started dating Jieun and I cried for two weeks. All I know is, one way or another, I began choosing you over everything."

The words leave your lips like a bird that has been caged for aeons. And perhaps, it is a horrible thing; to be left empty and to never be filled again, the cage door broken by the tenacity of the bird, by its thirst for freedom and its razor sharp claws. But at the same time, isn't it such a good thing? To not have to clench your teeth so tightly anymore, to be able to walk around without the substantial weight of your feelings weighing you down like a thousand kilograms against your chest.

"And I know I'm totally not your type. Believe me, I'm well-versed in exactly what you look for in a partner. I've spent hours, years, forever, trying to be exactly what you want, trying to be someone I'm not. And I know you're going to reject me and our friendship isn't ever going to be the same ever again and it'll be so weird now. But I just—"

You catch yourself midsentence, not quite sure what to say as every single feeling you've ever felt bubbles up inside your stomach and fills your lung cavity, the feelings so suffocating, you almost think that if you dived into that lake you might be able to breathe better than you are breathing right now.

"Just?" Wonwoo prompts quietly, the first thing he's said since you started pouring your heart out to him. His voice is meek, almost afraid that anything he says will set you off, his eyes wide in observation, gaze guarded, expression like nothing you have seen on Wonwoo before.

"I just thought I owed you this much, that I'd explode if I didn't tell you," you finally manage to get out, though your voice gets caught in your throat in a way that has you running laps in your head, that has your palms sweating and your eyes watering.

You quickly blink away your tears and look up to anticipate Wonwoo's answer. You aren't surprised to find that he's already looking at you and for the first time in forever, you can't tell what Wonwoo is thinking or feeling.

Wonwoo doesn't really say anything, not verbally at least. But he continues to look at you, eyes studying you so intently you feel your neck warm and your cheeks burn. His silence unnerves you. Wonwoo has always been a man of few words so you have gotten used to his silences, but that was when you were well-versed in reading him, when you knew what every small quirk of his brow meant, what he was feeling with every lilt of the corner of his lips.

Perhaps that is why you are caught off guard when he finally speaks, jumping so far out of your skin it makes Wonwoo jump too.

"I love you, Y/N," is how Wonwoo begins his sentence. And you'd never thought you'd hear those two words in the same sentence come from his mouth; your name and love uttered so vulnerably your pulse stutters.

"But just," he pauses, the calm before the storm, the screaming in your head is so loud, it deafens. "not in that way, you know? I'm sorry."

Your heart breaks all over again at his apology. You stand up to leave, the hand that finds your wrist begs you to stay. You don't want him to see you like this. But you don't have anyone else to go to. The person you find the most comfort in is breaking your heart because you let him.

Wonwoo tugs on your arm and you comply silently, feeling a lump as big as your heart form in your throat. You force your tears down, force the tsunami of feelings down, down, down so deep inside you, you pray you forget about it and it disappears forever.

Wonwoo tugs your arm one more time, and you, so overwhelmed with your feelings as always, allow him to tuck your head under his chin, allow him to guide your arms around his waist, allow him to engulf you in his arms, allow him to comfort you just one more time before you lose the one relationship you cherished.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head, his own voice breaking. He doesn't want to hurt you. He wishes he could say yes, wishes he could overwhelm you with joy by just saying those three words and meaning it in exactly the way you want. Maybe he can. Wonwoo doesn't know. He just knows he never ever wants to be the cause of your tears again.

Wonwoo's endless apologies push you off the edge of desire and when he envelopes you in his arms, it feels like you are thrown into the ocean, your back breaking the surface tension of the water. A thousand things flood your mind, your insecurities like a tsunami against your chest, the thoughts so suffocating you almost think your lungs are filling with water. His warm skin meets your own like the rolling waves, his breath against your neck, a hot breeze. Like this, you finally know what it means to love the sea as a drowned person.

[missmaniac25]

Choi Jongho - Unprofessional

Therapist!Choi Jongho x gn!reader A little bit of hurt, a lottle of unethical behaviour (please do not fall in love with your therapist or vice versa) Word count: 2.5K Warning for reader being insecure, and unprofessional behaviour on Jongho's side

~ “First time here?” The receptionist asked, smiling kindly.

“Um, yes,” you answered as you squeezed your hands together. “Did everything come through from my previous therapist?”

She nodded before telling you to have a seat and that your slot would start soon.

Changing to a new therapist was stressful. Your previous mental health coach had suddenly up and left to go be with their partner in a different city. So reluctantly, you’d started the search and through a friend of a friend, you’d ended up here.

The second hand on the clock ticked slowly. As per usual, you’d arrived early and now had to play the waiting game, trying to sync your breathing with every five ticks of the clock. It kept you busy. So busy in fact that you didn’t even notice the door opening. It was only when you heard someone call your name that you became aware of how much time had passed.

It was time for your therapy session.

Dr Choi Jongho looked exceedingly comfortable in his cream-coloured cardigan and black slacks. A very clean pair of glasses sat on his noise, drawing your attention to his beautiful eyes.

“So, what brings you here today?” He asked, settling himself into his seat.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve seen what my previous therapist sent you.”

You tried your hardest to relax. Dr Choi seemed kind and open, but the new environment was still a tad bit unsettling.

“Yes, I did.” He replied and smiled, the happiness reaching his eyes. “But why today?”

“Honestly the worst of my problems are behind me,” you tell him. “But sometimes I still need help keeping my thoughts in order.”

Dr Choi nodded and scribbled something in his notepad.

“Tell me all about it.”

You left feeling far better than when you’d arrived, even feeling brave enough to give Dr Choi a little salute before heading off, which seemed to amuse him. Maybe this could work out after all.

~

3 months with Dr Choi

“To be perfectly honest with you, I think that you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Dr Choi seemed particularly done with you today. Three months since starting sessions with him, he’d gotten to understand you pretty well. And vice versa.

“But this is a big deal!” You pressed on, scooting closer to the edge of the couch the more worked up you got. “Going on a first date is a big deal!”

Dr Choi looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” he mused. “Why is it such a big deal?”

“First impressions!” You jumped up off of your seat and started pacing. “Having to expose yourself to a complete stranger.”

The faint scribble of a pen on paper could be heard as you ranted.

“Like, there’s so much that could go wrong!” You continued. “Besides, I’m not dating material. I’m literally only going cause my friend set it up and I don’t want to let her down. Besides all that, what even do I have to offer someone romantically? He won’t even like me!”

“Why not?”

Dr Choi’s words made you stop as you stepped. He wore a strange look on his face; something between confusion and… regret?

“Why not what?” You asked back, still not moving.

He was slower to answer this time.

“Why would he not like you?”

There was a long stretch of quiet before you plopped back down where you had been seated before. Dr Choi kept an eye on you the entire time.

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?” He pressed gently.

“Maybe I’m just insecure,” you confessed. “Maybe… maybe I’m just saying that because I’m nervous and looking for any excuse not to go. Or for it not to work out.”

You heart thumped heavily in your chest. The beginning of a tear threatened to form in your eye but you blinked it away.

“Good,” Dr Choi said, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“Good?” you queried.

“Good.” He reaffirmed. “But I’m afraid that’s our time for today.”

Quickly you glanced at the clock, seeing that he was right. You gathered your belongings and made for the door, thanking him like you always did.

“See you next time.” You gave a little salute, as had become tradition.

“Goodbye.” Dr Choi saluted back, his face blank. “Good luck with your date.”

It wasn’t until later that you thought about how stiff his goodbye had been.

‘Probably reading into it too much,’ you told yourself. ‘He’s probably exhausted, hearing my nonsense once a week’

That had to be it.

~

7 months with Dr Choi

The pitter patter of rain on the roof had you mesmerized. It was like a spell being cast, keeping you from thinking of anything else. Just the sound. Pitter, patter.

“Are you still with me?”

Dr Choi’s voice finally got through to you.

“Sorry.”

“Theres no need to apologise,” he answered, that soft smile that you’d gotten used to on his face.

It was a smile that never quite reached his eyes. Like it was just something he had to do rather than a genuine reaction.

It had started to bother you once you had noticed it, how closed off he’d become. How he’d stopped saluting back when you left his office every week.

“There you go again.” Dr choi adjusted his grip on the pen he was holding. “Tell me what you’re thinking. That’s why you’re here.”

The debate of what to do held you back for a second but Dr Choi called your name, forcing you to decide.

“You’ve changed,” you stated.

His eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Oh?”

“Yes. For a while now, you’ve been acting differently.” You continued fulling facing him, “You used to be… friendlier.”

The two of you watched each other as though it were a stalemate; who was going to draw first?

“You noticed that?” Dr Choi finally said, voice quieter than usual.

“It was intentional?” There was a pang of hurt in your heart.

You really liked Dr Choi, as your therapist and as a person; to hear that he was purposefully acting differently towards you…

Dr Choi clearly could see how upset you’d become and tried to explain.

“No! No. Yes.” He stuttered. “I am behaving differently but it’s because…”

He shut his eyes, seemingly starting his own internal argument.

The air felt tense all of a sudden. The rhythm of the rain barely keeping you tethered to reality.

Were you really having a fight with your therapist?

“I think… I think I should go.” You stood up; Dr Choi finally looking at you again.

He said nothing as you made your way to the door, said nothing as you did your usual salute goodbye, and nothing as you shut the door and walked away.

~

It was only a day later when your phone rang. Hesitantly, you picked up, saying your name after greeting whoever was on the other side.

It wasn’t a voice you were expecting.

“Hi, it’s um… It’s Dr Choi Jongho.”

Everything froze. You didn’t move a muscle.

“Um, are you able to come in for ten minutes today?” He continued, voice sounding uneven. “I’d like to explain my behaviour yesterday. It was extremely unprofessional.”

“I still have work…” You began.

“You can come later,” Dr Choi interjected. “After hours. Free of charge.”

The majority of your brain wanted to say no. To say ‘forget everything’ and go back to normal. But there was that small part of you that was curious; that needed to know.

“Ok, I’ll be there.”

The receptionist had already gone home by the time you arrived and the door to Dr Choi’s room was already open. Cautiously, you knocked.

“Come in.”

With a deep breath, you went inside.

Dr Choi was putting away his notebook and pen into a drawer. He’d taken off his glasses and rolled his sleeves up.

“You can sit down,” he offered, watching as you shifted from foot to foot.

“Dr Choi…”

“Jongho.”

You swallowed nothing before he spoke again.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his hands along the legs of his pants. “That came out rather harshly.”

“You’re always telling me not to say ‘sorry’ but, seems like you do it too.”

Jongho smiled. And for the first time in a long time, it seemed to be genuine.

“Do as I say and not as I do,” he quipped back.

You tried to smile at him but something between you two still felt off.

“I suppose I should explain myself.” Jongho moved to stand in front of you.

“I’d appreciate that,” you said.

“I want to start by apologising again for my behaviour,” he said, looking at you earnestly. “It was unprofessional but more than that, it was rude.’

After a nod of acknowledgement from you, he continued.

“It also pains me to tell you that I can no longer be your therapist.”

“Why not!?”

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop yourself. “I forgive you for your weird behaviour today if that’s the problem!”

“No, no.” Jongho placed his hands on your arms. It was firm but still caring. “No, it’s something else. Something more than just that.”

In that moment, you were aware that this was the closest you’d ever physically been to each other. You could see the depth of his brown eyes, the freckle on his neck.

“I can’t be your therapist anymore because I’ve developed feelings for you.”

Out of all the possible things he could’ve said, that had not been at the top of your list. All you could manage was a quiet ‘oh’.

“I, uh.” He stepped back but the place where his hands had been still felt warm. “I tried to ignore my feelings. I had hoped that they wouldn’t get stronger but clearly in trying to ignore them, I’ve changed how I act towards you and… and I didn’t do a very good job of not letting it show.”

He glanced away for a second.

“And obviously I couldn’t stop those feelings from growing. And the more they grew, the worse I became.”

Jongho looked back at you, a shimmer of sadness in his eyes.

“So, that’s why you can’t be my therapist anymore,” you said, still trying to grasp this situation.

“Yes.” Jongho nodded. “But I have some people I can recommend you could go to, if you’d like their information.”

“Honestly.” You took a small step back. “I might need a break from therapists for a bit.”

The two of you stood in silence, neither of you sure what should happen next. You looked around, searching for guidance only to end up looking at Jongho again.

“I don’t want to take up anymore of your time.” He spoke up. “If you want those names, you can let my know.”

“I’ll think about it.”

With difficulty, you turned for the door, feeling your limbs fill with a heaviness. For old time’s sake, you looked back and lifted two fingers to your head. With a bittersweet look, Jongho saluted back.

You left for the last time.

~

One month without Dr Choi

Quiet. Nothing but quiet.

You’d thought about that day often especially in moments like these, when it was just you and your mind.

Quiet.

‘This is a bad idea,’ you told yourself as you picked up your phone and typed a message.

‘Hello Dr Choi, I was wondering if I could please get the names of the therapists you recommended. Sorry for the inconvenience.’

You sent it before you could change your mind. It was almost the end of the working day but contacting him after hours would’ve felt stranger.

Ping.

‘You don’t need to apologize, it’s no trouble at all.’

The next message is a list of names and numbers; some of them you recognised from your previous search before you had found…

‘Thank you.’ You sent back and before the confidence could wear off you added:

‘Are you ok?’

Theres a long stretch of nothing and you assumed that he had decided to ignore you. You’re about to get up and move on when…

‘Normally I’m the one asking that question. Its strange to be on the receiving end of it.’

Ping. Another message.

‘I’m alright. Thank you for asking.’

You answer with just ‘glad to hear it’ before you put the phone aside and found something to do that wasn’t over thinking.

~

6 months without Dr Choi

Hearing someone call your name while you are grocery shopping is always a little bit scary. Turning around to see your ex-therapist is even scarier.

“Oh, hi,” you manage to say as you stood with your shopping basket in one hand and a box of brownie mix in the other. “Dr Choi.”

“Just Jongho is fine. You’re no longer my patient.” He gave you a smile. That fake smile that ended at the corners of his lips.

“Right, sorry,” you said before internally groaning. If you had still been his patient, he would’ve scolded you for that.

“It’s been a few months now,” Jongho said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

Your heart skipped a beat and he realised what he had said and his eyes went wide.

“Oh, no!” He quickly tried to correct himself. ‘No, not like that! I meant professionally, not…”

Jongho took a deep breath and closed his eyes before muttering quietly to himself.

“Why does that only happen with you?”

You waited until he had had his moment, speaking once his eyes were open again.

“It’s ok.” You tried to give him a reassuring look. “I know what you meant to say.”

Letting the brownie mix fall into your basket, you continued.

“Professionally, yes.” You told him. “I’ve been going to Dr Park. He’s good just a little up tight.”

Jongho nodded as you spoke.

“Personally, no. I’ve, uh, I’ve been building up the courage to talk to someone again.”

You watched as he shifted his weight on his feet. He seemed uneasy.

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Jongho offered his two cents. “I hope that you find enough courage to follow through with it.”

It was now or never.

“Jongho,” you said, moving a little closer. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Personally, or professionally?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Personally.”

His reply was a quick ‘no’ and a shake of the head.

“I, um.” Your heart pounded; like it was going to jump right out of your chest. “I don’t know if you still feel the same way about me as before or if this is even ethical but…”

“Yes?” Jongho gently pressed.

“Would you like to maybe have a coffee with me? At some point?”

A spark ignited in Jongho’s eyes and you could see his cheeks flush pink.

“Yes.” He finally smiled fully. “I’d love to have coffee with you.”

“Great!” You slowly started to shuffle around him. “I’ll send you a text.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

With one final nod, you turned your back and started to walk away.

“Hey!” Jongho called out.

When you looked at him, he had two fingers up to his forehead.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you did the same, giving the mock salute back.

“See you.”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “See you soon, Dr Choi.”

[immabethehero]

The Scarecrows

Let’s go!!! Second week of @wdtajn!!! This story has been in my brain for a bit, glad to get it out!

CW: talk of slicing people open, cannibalism (feel free to skip this one if needed)

Lena Lopez has really nice fabrics in her house.

Probably not the thing to be thinking about, but Bruno has been looking for new clothes for his costume pieces. Trunks full of lovely clothes add to why she’s so revered as a scarecrow maker and seller. Bruno can already see some of her works in the corner, strapped to poles and ready to be sold. As Lena makes tea for them both, he studies the features of the scarecrows, the smooth clay of the faces almost making them human. They all look a bit older, like him. Some have patches of facial hair on the chin, others are smooth as a sheet. He turns away from the pile.

Her small cottage is near the edge of the Encanto, near where jaguar activity has been spotted. Bruno isn’t sure why a young woman would want to live near such a dangerous place. Rather large carpet samples hang on her walls, and the wooden floors are particularly shiny in the little light that shines into the house. Bruno can see only one window, and it’s in the living room, near the front door. How does Lena move around at night?

“Sorry for the mess, just moved and I’m still setting up shop, so I haven’t had a chance to put my carpets down,” Lena calls out from the kitchen. “It must be nice just staying in one place all your life.”

“It’s alright… though sometimes I try to look at different places, go beyond the Encanto,” Bruno says airily.

“Oh? How do you do that?” Lena asks, smiling.

“Mamá has a few books on geography. She wanted her kids to be ‘well-versed’ in the art of… knowing countries,” Bruno says. He immediately regrets over opening his mouth.

Lena laughs, a pretty jingling sound. Bruno doesn’t think that deserved a laugh, so maybe she’s just humoring him for the sake of it.

Lena finally comes out with a tray carrying two steaming cups of tea. Her pale skin, bright red lips and cocoa brown hair remind Bruno of a vampire, ready to eat. She sets the tea down and hands a cup to Bruno. A green smoke rises from his cup.

“Oh, how thoughtful! You chose green, my favourite colour,” Bruno says, fighting back a grimace. It stinks like a pig stye!

“Well, I figured you might like it, since we just met a few days ago,” Lena says. “So, what made you come visit little old me rather than the other new neighbours?”

“I don’t think you look old,” Bruno blurts out. He’s not even lying, Lena doesn’t look much older than thirty.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Lena laughs. “I’m pushing 50 at this point.”

Crikey, she’s almost as old as him! “What’s your secret?” Bruno asks impulsively.

Lena smiles seductively and gestures to the tea with her blood red lips. “Why don’t you drink the tea and find out?”

Bruno looks down at the steaming tea, its putrid smell clogging his big nostrils. It’s times like these he wishes he didn’t inherit the big parts of his parents’ noses. He picks up the cup and takes a sip.

Already, he can feel his head spinning and bile threatening to leave his throat. Bruno grips the table to steady himself and sets the cup down.

Lena’s smile fades as she watches him waver in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… I just don’t think that tea agreed with me…” The last thing Bruno sees before he blacks out is Lena’s bright blue eyes watching him intently.

*

As Bruno slowly comes to, he feels stiff. As he struggles to move, he feels his arms pulled out to the sides, ropes wrapped tightly around his bony wrists. His knees seem to be tied together with rope as well. Despite this, he stands upright, facing Lena’s back as she is bent over a table.

Bruno opens his mouth to speak, only to gag. His mouth tastes terrible. What the hell was in that tea?! The noise alerts Lena, who turns around. She’s put an apron over a dirty red dress and wears large black gloves.

“Oh! I didn’t expect you to wake up so early. Usually my guests drink the tea whole and never wake up again,” she says. “Oh well, I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

Bruno coughs and spits. He clears his throat. “What?” Christ, now he can’t even speak properly.

“You probably want an explanation,” Lena says. Bruno nods desperately.

“Well, I guess I have time. Settle back on your pole, this will be a bit,” Lena says.

Bruno turns his head and stifles a scream. If he wasn’t moving, he’d fit right in with the rest of Lena’s scarecrows. Though, given how things are going right now…

“I never enjoyed the concept of aging,” Lena begins. “All my mother and older sisters ever did was complain about getting older, their fattening bodies, saggy skin, greying hair. The house always smelled of the ointments, perfume, and whatever else they’d use to make themselves look younger. Townsfolk would see us in the street and shake their heads at the older women.

“I never had a problem with my appearance. Everyone always said I was the prettiest of my family. Over the years, it became clear how I would have to keep my pretty face. I never married, never had kids, didn’t once help with cooking or cleaning. I stole money from my sisters to buy the best foods to keep my skin clear, expensive, beautiful dresses, hair dye that hid all the grey! Others called me useless, annoying, too vain to be around. It didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was looking young and beautiful.”

Ah, so she’s always been a piece of shit. At least Bruno doesn’t have to listen to a tragic backstory.

Lena’s smile fades  “But of course, beauty doesn’t last forever. On my 35th birthday, I woke up and saw grey in my hair. Normally, I would just buy more hair dye, but the store where I usually shopped had run out of the dye with my hair colour. I tried looking at other stores, but either they didn’t have it, or it was too pricey. My sisters refused to give me any more money, kicking me out of their homes, telling me I deserved it.

As I shamefully walked home, I could feel the stares of everyone in town. They whispered behind their hands, children giggled and called me una bruja. I couldn’t take it! I rushed to one of the highest bridges in the town that night, ready to end it all. But just as I was about to jump-

“A real witch appeared! She was an ugly thing, warts everywhere, horrid posture, stringy grey hair.” Lena shudders. “She said she had a way I could stay young and beautiful forever, but in return, I’d have to work for it.” At this, Lena wrinkles her nose. Bruno holds back a yawn.

“The next day, I set out to find a man. One with an upright job and reputation. I chose a baker with a bright eye, especially for me, and invited him for tea. Having had his love go unreciprocated for years, he agreed and saw me that night. I gave him a concoction that put him right to sleep, then tied him to a pole. I took my sharpest knife and cut clean into the skin. I cleaned out his body, grabbing every last organ and putting them in a stew.”

At this, Bruno blanches.

“When I drank it, I felt a rush of energy that I hadn’t felt since I was 18. I felt younger, healthier, and hungrier. But first, I had to finish my job. I sewed the baker back up, moved towns, and sold him to the first passing farmer in need of a scarecrow.”

Lena pulls out a rag and ties it around Bruno’s mouth. She then pulls a large knife from out of her apron. Bruno squirms in his bonds as the knife closes in on his ruana. He screams, the sound blocked by the rag and carpets.

“You’re quite skinny for a meal, but you should last me until I settle down in a new home. Now hold still…”

[marieshyperf1xations]

Tagged by the one and only @blueberry-obsessed herself, thank you dear :D (And it took me so long to get around to doing this (apologies, btw) that @themultifanshipper tagged me as well)

Do you make your bed? Rarely, tbh. I used to do it every day, but I nap so much recently that there’s not really a point. Plus, I have curtains in front of my bed, so you don’t really see it anyways.

Favourite number 9

What’s your job? Don’t have one currently, a little too busy with uni and my mental health. Before that I worked in a covid testing place. And I volunteer as an EMT at the Red Cross. That’s the closest answer I can give

If you could go back to school, would you? Primary school: yes. Secondary school: some phases yes, overall no (I mostly miss my German teacher). And uni I’m currently doing, so yeah.

Can you parallel park? I’m not the best, but generally yes. Also, my car is quite small, so that makes it easier I suppose

Do you think aliens are real? I don’t really think about it tbh, but purely statistically, they have to be in some way, shape or form, right?

Can you drive a manual car? Yes. And a manual motorbike as well 😌

Guilty pleasure? True crime shows or podcasts. And rewatching old Let’s Plays, but I haven’t done that in a while

Tattoos? Nope, too indecisive and scared of regretting it

Favourite colour? Really depends. Generally, I like blues and purples, sometimes a nice sunflower yellow, but with clothes for example you’ll rarely see me in something that’s not either black, grey, or navy.

Favourite type of music? Probably quicker to list what music I don’t like, but to keep it short, I’d say it’s mostly indie at the moment

Do you like puzzles? Yeah, but like everything I usually do them in bursts, so I’ll spend every evening working on it for a week and then abandon it for months.

Favourite childhood sport? I loved ballet and did gymnastics for years. And I went horse riding religiously for most of my childhood, I absolutely loved it. But unfortunately, I’m pretty much deathly allergic to horses and will almost instantly get breathing problems.

Do you talk to yourself? Yes, constantly and in three languages. Especially in the car

Tea or coffee? Tea, all the way. Herbal and black tea or some chai blend, most of the time with milk. I absolutely detest coffee; it makes me nauseous.

First thing you wanted to be when growing up? Either a veterinarian or a horse-riding instructor, I can’t remember which one came first

What movies do you adore? My favourite as a child was Mamma Mia and it’s still a comfort film for me. I loved Call Me By Your Name for the cinematography, the score and the general vibes. For similar reasons I also adored Arrival, I’ve watched that a good few times by now too. Also, the storyline is genius. For a feel-good film I really like Ocean’s 8, something about it is just really satisfying to me and the fact that there’s so many amazing women in that film is even better. And my go-to film when I need a cry is and probably always will be The Notebook.

No-pressure tagging @lestappenforever @f1writingbyme @ayrsontenna and everyone else who feels like doing this <3

[icypenguin]

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ When is the right time? Pt. 2

this is the continuation of the pt 1! also.. theres gonna be another part after this.. hehe um, enjoy reading! also the reader is fem, sorry i didnt tell!

Pt 1 Pt 3

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

3 days passed by, and its now friday. kuki told you to go shopping for tomorrow with her after school and you agree to. now you’re both in the clothing store, you, not knowing what to buy. “um- kuki.. what should i wear?” you asked being confused. kuki grabbed a silk dress in your favourite colour. “what about this? i beg heizou will love it~” kuki showed you the dress as she teased you. “um- i mean.. i guess thats okay.. with pearl necklace and pearl purse?” you asked kuki once more. “mhm! there you have it~ an outfit that will make your man drool” kuki teased you with a smirk on his face. your face becomes red and kuki laughed at you. “s-stop teasing! ugh don’t get your expectations all high now” you roll your eyes while your face was still red. you both got what you would like to wear then head home to rest.

the next day morning until afternoon passed quickly. it’s 4pm and you just started to prepare. ofcourse you regret not preparing earlier as you’re now spamming kuki with ‘HELP’ messages. you didn’t know what makeup you should go for and what hairstyle suits with the dress. after 30 minutes of spamming, kuki finally replied ‘you should wear light makeup and uh just let your hair down or whatever’. you weren’t satisfied with kuki’s reply and decided to call her. she picked up the call and you started ranting. “woah hey slow down girl, what’s wrong? you ain’t central cee stop acting like you’re singing his song or sum” kuki chuckled. “THIS ISN’T A JOKE KUKI! WHAT IF HE DOESN’T LIKE MY LOOK!? WHAT IF SOMEONE DRESSES BETTER- WHAT IF HE’S DISSAPOINTED IN MEEEE!?” you lay on ur floor and rolled around with tears almost escaping your eyes. “no girl i know he likes you! just be yourself..” kuki continued to comfort you as your face were covered in tears and snot.

after a 10 minutes drive you finally arrived at heizou’s house. your hands were sweating and you can feel your heart beat faster. “alright girl cmon let’s have some fun!” kuki jumped out the car with full of excitement. but you were still inside the car feeling nervous and anxious. kuki noticed this and confirm you there’s nothing to be afraid of “cmon y/n! i bet your man is waiting for you already”. kuki winked and you finally got out of the car. you both went inside to see that there was already many peoples. well, you both did came 25 minutes late.

you were looking everywhere to spot that maroon haired boy when you saw him. he was at the corner talking to his friends. your face flushed a bit when you see him wearing pretty tight black sleeveless shirt, showing his begginers muscles. you look at kuki and he signal you to go to his direction. you shake your head but kuki insists you to. you look at heizou again and you accidentally caught eye with him. being the friendly person he is, he waved at you while smiling. your heartbeat became faster as kuki walked towards him. you didn’t have a choice but to follow her as you didn’t want to get lost at this party. heizou sees you both and greets you both. “i didn’t expect you both to really come but welcome! make yourselves at home!” heizou smiled widely as he shake hands with kuki. but for you, he took your hand carefully and kiss it. heizou looked at you from up and down, you notice this and begins to sweat more. “why y/n, you look very lovely. i didn’t think i would get to see you as pretty as this. not that my expectations were low.. im just.. shocked.. it really suits you though” heizou complimented and ended it with a wink. you were very flattered, you didn’t expect someone to say that to you! and the fact that it’s heizou too! “t-thanks heizou.. you look very charming as well…” you didn’t know what to say but tried your best.

heizou thanked you and you three decided to get some drink, but kuki decided that she wants to catch up with someone. you knew what she was up to and send her the ‘i will kill you’ eye, now you’re stuck with your crush. “do you drink y/n? have you try it before?” heizou asked. you didn’t want to look lame but decided to tell the truth “i haven’t try it before.. i guess i would like to try it though”. you assured him and he hand you a cup with alcohol in it. “cheers!” “cheers!” you both drink it and he asked you how does it feel. “how is it y/n?” “its not bad… but i know this isn’t good..” you felt a bit guilty but heizou cheered you up. “cmon now! its your first try.. its okay you just tried it for the first time” you nod your head as a reply and stop overthinking it.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

sorry guys but i swear pt 3 is gonna be the final… thanks for reading pt 1 and 2 i hope you all enjoyed it! advices aee always accepted thankyou!

[greypetrel]

Hello! 🌸✨ Aisling + n.8 hugging while walking?

Oh, hello, long time no see! 🌻💜

Hope you didn't think I had forgotten! :P

Here we go, this prompt served me this on a silver plate. It's Dark Lady AU, making Tevildo canon because yes. The Siamese cat is a she and I inserted my late one. She had a malformation on her vocal chords and... The vet told us she was aphonic, but she didn't know and meowed anyway. But it was either YELLING HORRIBLY, possibly in the deep of night, or screeching and squeaking like an old door. And she had a resting bitch face. Thought she could make an appearance, since she was mostly shy and invisible with strangers BUT with people who told they didn't like/hate cats.

This Miaule is the 17th in a long list of Miaules that preceeded him as the Dark Lady's personal companion.

Tis the prompt list.

Seven lives.

8. hugging while walking

“I’m not…” He cleared his throat, looking straight into the one remaining golden eye of the old, scruffed tabby that was held up in front of his face. “Ah, I’m more of a dog person.”

The cat, at that, got lowered back down and cradled in front of the bust of the Dark Lady. Who looked a little disappointed. With the tabby safely cradled on her prosthetic and settling itself against her shoulder, she started to scratch the animal behind his neck with her hand, absentmindedly, as she replied.

“Ah. I see.” The enthusiasm of when she brought him in a drawing room gone from her voice. “It may be… A little problem, if you don’t like them.”

The rooms he was brought to see, the corridors and even the throne room, were indeed inhabited by cats of all shapes and colours. Fluffy one that looked like clouds curled on sittings, not even waking up when you entered the room. Tabbies staring at you from corners with the keen eyes of predators. Siameses trotting right at you to greet you with a very eloquent meow. Red cats that headbutted your ankles and purred without a real reason to. Tuxedos up top furnitures perking up with whiskers starkingly white against the glossy black of their fur. Big cats, small cats, kittens, some with one eye, others with ears nibbed in fights, young ones and old ones, awake and asleep, all visibly very well fed and cherished. Wherever you turned, there was a cat. If not more.

Cullen didn’t notice the first time he was brought to Barad-Dur, but at that time, his mind was totally elsewhere. And seeing the Lady of the tower mildly pouting didn’t feel so much like a pang of regret.

“I- I don’t hate them!” He was quick to specify. Which was true. “I just… Like dogs more. Don’t really have much to share with cats. They’re useful, but… I prefer dogs.”

“You’re not saying this to please me, are you, Captain?” She inquires, squinting at him, a corner of her lips cracking up as she mocked him with his old title. “You can tell that you hate cats.”

“I do not. They won’t be a problem, my Lady.” He assured her, straightening his back and nodding, convinced.

He could survive some cats. What he asked of her, after all, was no little feat: the least he could do was to accept whatever… Flock of pets she decided to fill her tower with. And really, he wasn’t scared of cats He just never liked them much: useful, sure, but they were unfriendly, cold and aloof. Dogs were just better, he thought. Dogs at least were happy to see you.

She observed him for some moments more, looking for who knew what as the cat she held in her arms started to purr and rub his head on her neck and jaw. She sighed, after a while, and nodded, walking out of the drawing room and back into a corridor. He followed her, one step behind and on her right – on the opposite side of the cat.

They were alone, and the situation was a little awkward. The war ended, she somehow survived against all previsions, and got back to Mordor with a treaty signed by King Aragorn himself, establishing borders and an alliance. He got back to Minas Tirith and brought Cupcake along (the Warg was, indeed, a great companion, loyal and keenly intelligent), and thought about things. Each of them had their own problems and issues to solve privately, and they had said goodbye, not mentioning much of anything. That one night before they reached Isengard, the words she almost told him when she thought she was dying.

He eventually had come to his decision, and turned his steps East.

Oh, she had been perfectly polite when he had showed up at her door. Some orcs at the Black Gate had showed him to her Tower and to the queue for court. She had been surprised to see him, and she had smiled. She had stopped smiling when he asked her for some privacy, was left alone with just her and the Witch-King (“He’s my right hand. What I know, he knows. You can trust him as you’d trust me. Speak.”) and told her he needed help in quitting with the potions the guards drank. She listened to him explaining symptoms and what would happen, looked intently at the sample he brought her and left him to Dorian, then nodded and granted him a safe harbour and assistance. And showed him around.

Because apparently, when he thought she would have given him a hut or some external settlement he could have some privacy, she really meant to keep him in a guest room in her tower, where she or her healers could tend to him better. “I wouldn’t leave you on your own, not unless you so wished”. She told him. “But I’d advise you against it. It’s powerful magic to impose magic on someone else, I would rather have you here to know you’re fine and help you, if we can, than knowing you’re close, but on your own.”. It had been so different than what he had been used to, what he expected after a lifetime of being told to tend to himself, that he had not the heart to tell her no. Even if the idea of showing himself as sick made him way, way more ill at ease than the cats.

But, he had said yes she had showed him around – it was, indeed, a nice and cozy place. Some works were still being done here and there, but it had the aspect of being loved and cared for. All the doors had a tiny door that couldn’t fit a human, but whence he saw slipping out some cats. All the orcs they met greeted them politely, smiling. The rooms were cozy, designed with taste and to be first of all comfortable and functional, but not without grace and beauty. They had talked on the way, of comfortably neutral topics, and it had been almost as when they first knew each other.

But the cats- he had to ask.

“Why the cats?”

“Mh? Oh, you don’t know?” Aisling asked, some spark of joy shining into her eyes. She giggled. “I still thought they told the tale to children. Well, for a little time I was known as Tevildi, the Princess of Cats. I took the form of a cat, for a while, but I didn’t really like the collar.”

“I never heard of it.”

“Thanks Iluvatar! It’s not very flattering, and it just says that cats are evil.” She moved the cat on her shoulder so she could face him, and kept speaking in a higher pitch than before. “And you’re really not evil, right Miaule the 17th? You’re a fluffy little baby!”

She kissed his nose loudly, and the cat -an old beast that visibly saw too many scuffles and as many winters, was mangy from old age and had a very grumpy expression on his face- mrowed aloud. Cullen wasn’t sure he was really happy about it, but the Maia ignored it, letting him perch on her shoulder again, tail snapping nervously down her arm but not trying to jump away, and keeping walking hugging the feline.

“And you had a collar?”

“Yes, a golden one. It looked good against black fur, you see. But it had a most annoying bell that tinkled whenever I moved… And let me tell you, with a cat’s hearing it was the most annoying thing ever.”

“I…” He still wasn’t used to how casually she talked about a long gone past when she had not been treated that right. He still didn’t know how to talk about it without causing her pain. “… I can’t imagine you collared. Bell or no.”

It was, apparently, the right thing to say. Or not a terribly wrong one. She turned her head towards him and smiled that sad smile she had when she was grateful.

“Thank you. Me neither. I discarded that form soon. It’s nice to curl and sleep whenever, but I much prefer having opposable thumbs.”

“I pictured you as a dog person too, after the Wargs.” He confessed, smiling at the idea of her as a cat.

“I like all animals. But cats… Cats were a gift.” Her smile turned far away and sad, and he knew whose gift it was exactly. “Another thing that nobody wanted. Another pet project to keep me distracted. Keep me collared.” Her voice, too, turned sour, but the cat, perking up on her shoulder as in reaction, pushed on his front paws and headbutted his Lady, with another mrow. A less grumpy one. She seemed to calm down, at that, hand coming to caress the back of the animal as she stopped in front of a door. “But I do love them. They’re special, and great companions. You just have to give them some understanding and earn their trust. And that’s a gift most precious than any jewel.”

For a moment, right then, Cullen understood. And indeed connected her with a fluffy red cat that could purr and be soft, and be a ruthless predator the next moment. He stood there to look at her looking lovingly at old Miaule the 17th she was still hugging, the connection between them visible. And wished intensely that she still could look at him with the same eyes.

When she turned towards him, at last, for a moment he believed she could.

And he must have looked at her somewhat weirdly as well, because she cleared her throat, lowered her eyes and stepped back, gently accompanying the cat back on the floor and opening the door they were in front of.

“But I prattled enough for today.” She declared, stepping back on the threshold to give him space to pass. “Here’s your room, I hope it has everything you need.”

The space was spacious without being overtly so. A big window opened west, showing off the mountains and a cut of blue sky where the cloud enchantment ended. The curtains were ready to be pulled. A low bed with a small ottoman on its feet, where his luggage has been already deposited… And three cats sleeping all together right at the pillows, sinking a little in the blankets and testifying for how soft the pillow and the bedding were. A fireplace cracking merrily, a carpet on the floor, an armchair and a writing station. Then a small wardrobe and a door that had another small cat door in it, making him fail to guess where it could lead. The colours were muted and dark, but overall it was relaxing and cozy, and really more luxurious than he ever dreamed.

“It’s too much for me.” He couldn’t but saying, trying to hide how he yes, felt out of place… And how worried he was about how would have he done to shoo the cats away. Maybe he could ask if he could allow Cupcake -brought to the kennels with his siblings- up here.

Aisling, tho, laughed, and stepped on his side, arms crossed behind her back and looking up at him with a smile.

“It’s just enough.” She corrected him. “Pull that string beside the bed and Lazgar will come. She’s not young anymore and will insist on propriety. But she is trusted.”

“I… I don’t know how to thank you, my Lady.”

“Well, a good way would be to call me by my name, when we’re alone.” She suggested. “I think we’re past honorifics, aren’t we.”

He couldn’t but agree, even if it brought a rush of heat to his cheeks that made him turn his eyes away in shyness. She giggled subtly at it, but made no mention of it when she spoke.

“Well, I’ll leave you to settle down. Call if you need something, and if you look for me, I’m usually in my private library when I’m here. Just find the stairs and go up until you can, and that’s the door you should knock. Have I already told you the time of meals?”

She started to ramble, talking quickly and following a line of thought. If she was distracted, tho, Miaule was attentive, his one green eye fixed upon Cullen with a judgemental stare, tail swaying down the prosthetic his fluffy butt was perched upon.

“You did, my- Aisling.” He corrected, last minute. She smiled at it. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“I hope you will.” She replied, still smiling.

She greeted him one last time -made the cat bid goodbye too waving one of his paws gently left and right and making a voice for him as well- and left him alone in what was apparently his new space.

It was, cozy and quiet, even if the ceiling was too high. But it had a nice view of the mountains and the sky, and Cullen thought he would have found himself at ease, there. The idea of showing up sick and at his lowest scared him a little less.

There was, now, only one problem.

“Ok, you three, I think we’ll need some discipline…”

He told the three cats curled on the bed. One -a weird one all cream coloured, but with his face, ears, paws and tail black- rose its head and looked at him with blue eyes full of contempt, as if waiting to hear why exactly he dared disturbing them.

“First rule, not on the bed.” He announced them, seriously.

And made his first weak attempt to move the cats down without having them scratching him. He didn’t know how to pick them without hurting, and he didn’t want to hurt them. After a couple of trials to just shoo them, slipping his hands under their bodies and pushing gently up, he realised that he really had to ask someone how to deal with cats.

Because now he had not one, but three little muzzles with triangle ears all looking at him expectingly.

“… Or maybe you could stay for now. I did disturb you nap, after all.” He conceded. “But it’s either you or me, ok? You can have the bed during the day, and it’s mine for the night. Is it reasonable for you?”

The Siamese cat opened his mouth and made one single weird screeching sound at him. A meow, but high pitched, as if it wasn’t really accustomed to it. It held the same contempt of its look, and Cullen knew it was a “no.”

“… We’ll need to find a solution.” He insisted.

And feeling very silly for being there talking with three stubborn felines that he thought were the real owners of the room he was assigned, he sat on the corner of the bad and started to unpack his baggage, hoping he would have been ignored.

The Siamese, tho, appearently the chief of the three, quietly padded towards him.

It startled him, when she headbutted his elbow with decision. Cullen jumped, and the cat jumped too.

“I-I’m sorry? I didn’t expect to- Oh. Well. Ok?”

He fumbled, as the feline, not, impressed by his apologies at all, got closer again and started to sniff him. Hopped on his lap and slipped its head in his bag.

Not knowing how do act with a cat on his lap, and feeling too close to four sets of claws for comfort, Cullen let the creature do as it please. The other two reached the first, and soon after, he had three cats sniffing around, inspecting what he took out of his bag, biting the strap of the bag.

The Siamese lied down abruptly on his lap, all of a sudden letting go of its own weight on his paws and lying on its side on his thighs, with a deep sigh and all the air of a being that had no intention of moving. Indeed it stayed there until he had unpacked all his clothes at his side and left the empty bag to the second cat – a red one- to hop into and make a nest. The third, instead, a black one with long fur, curled right onto the pile of his shirts, which Cullen suspected will keep staying white for little longer.

The Siamese fell asleep, not caring of the Rohirrim’s pleads to please, move and let him up.

Maybe he would have been late for dinner, it seemed.

[silkhy-john]

Oh yeah here’s a Lukethan for ya. It’s on AO3 if you’d like to read it there instead (also it’s 688 words long if that helps):

***

Twenty, soulmate not found yet, and about to die trying to change the course of a war he wants nothing to do with cause he still wants his father’s approval; Luke is living the life.

But… but he can forget about it all. In this moment. Him and Ethan on the nice couch Drew got them for their mostly okay apartment. The TV is mostly static cause heavens know what Zeus is putting Aeolus through.

It isn’t the first time he’s held hands with Ethan. Or rested his head on his shoulder. It feels a lot like the calm before the storm he likely won’t return from.

“You’re doing it,” Ethan says again. His tone is even, but Luke can sense his worry.

“Who’s gonna do this better than Grandpa Zeus’s golden grandson?” Luke asks, wry. Ethan’s shoulder tenses even more under his head. “Hey,” Luke lifts his head and gently Ethan to face him. “I’ll be fine. We always make it out, don’t we?”

Ethan studies his face and swallows. “I can’t be there to get your ass out of trouble.”

“You can’t,” Luke confirms. He’s not surprised when Ethan pulls him into a hug and buries his face into Luke’s shoulder.

It’s times like this when Luke wonders about his soulmate—wonders if he could dare to hope that it’s—well, ridiculous is what it is. Ethan would have know his soulmate’s eye colour before his mother took his eye, so it obviously isn’t Luke, but Luke can’t help but wonder—

And yeah, if he’s going to die for the ungrateful pricks on Olympus, this isn’t a regret he wants to die having.

So he does it. Does it when Ethan lets go. He telegraphs every movement as he goes in to kiss the man. Ethan meets him halfway.

It feels like—like the fireworks Silena and Beckendorf would constantly gush about. Like every night Luke stayed up wishing that his shitty luck would go on break for once in his life and let him have Ethan as a soulmate wasn’t a waste.

And maybe it wasn’t, cause there’s something about Ethan’s smile, something that—

Luke trips over his feet to get to the hall mirror and his eyes are—both his eyes are blue. No trace of the brown-with-traces-of-gold that he’d thought was black in his left eye.

“You…” he stops. Wets his lips. “You knew,” it isn’t a question.

Now that he’s gotten it out, he turns to Ethan. Ethan who still has that same odd smile on his face, almost like a child who’s been caught out. Ethan, who has an eyepatch over the eye socket his mother had emptied to prove some moot point. Ethan Nakamura, his soulmate.

“I suspected.”

And Luke could say a lot of things in that moment. Do a lot. Maybe laugh hysterically. Maybe cry with relief cause the wishes he still doesn’t want to admit he made are a reality. He doesn’t really expect to find himself plopping himself back down by Ethan and taking the man’s hand into his own. Judging by how Ethan eyes Luke, he didn’t expect it either.

“Luke?” Says Ethan softly.

He’s held Ethan’s hands multiple times before, but something feels different about it this time. His soulmate.

Luke doubts that any words could describe how it is that he feels, so he doesn’t use any. He just soaks it all in, enjoying the way Ethan pulls him into his arms, the kiss he places on his forehead.

Luke is crying, perhaps, cause the last few years have been difficult and his father is back in his life and ripping up wounds Luke thought had healed and Ethan is his soulmate but he might not be here to appreciate that in the next twenty-six—

“Luke,” Ethan’s voice, quiet and soft, pulls him out of his head, “don’t die.”

Luke takes a deep breath. ‘I won’t,’ he thinks to himself, the conviction of the thought surprising him. Maybe he’d said it out loud, cause Ethan smiles.

And then their lips meet again, and just for a moment, all of Luke's worries fade away.

***

[End note stuff:

This has been in my drafts for one year now.

Also it was inspired by GoldenEmpire, who just might be my favourite PjO fic writer of all time and also I miss them so much and I hope they’re thriving.

Yeah.

I rarely post fics here but this one’s here cause I mean… why not?]