#i feel like we've had this conversation before about shatter me

[wish-i-were-heather]

should i finish cruel prince series whatever the fuck that’s called or read shatter me.

OH MY GOD YOU HAVENT FINISHED THE CRUEL PRINCE OR READ SHATTER ME??? i would finish the cruel prince since youve already started and its shorter. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU ON???

[jellybonbons]

Playground Love

ೀ older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Tags: hurt/comfort, age gap (unspecified but reader is an adult), a lot of self doubt, talks about mommy and daddy issues, pet names (angel, princess, sweetheart).

W/C: 1.0k

A/N: studying? who is that? Anyways, this was supposed to be a cute ‘sitting on his lap would fix me’ but I got hit by existential crisis at 2am so angst.

"Wow, dating an older guy? That's so sophisticated!"

“Are you sure about this? Don’t you think there’s a reason why no one his age is dating him?”

"You get to date someone older? That's not fair! All I get are immature guys my age."

"Darling, I know you're an adult now, but dating someone significantly older... it just worries me. Are you sure you're on the same page?"

I love him.

At every reaction, you find yourself repeating the same phrase in your mind. It was a simple truth that anchored you amidst the swirl of opinions and doubts. Every concern, every envy—you faced them all with the same unwavering declaration.

But do you really love him?

The question lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on the certainty you had clung to so desperately. You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that perhaps you were merely caught up in the allure of dating someone older, mistaking infatuation for love. Or was it that you longed for attention from an older guy who could fill the void your absent father left?

You craved the paternal presence you had been denied, and in him, you found echoes of the guidance and affection you had longed for. 

"Dating someone older? Isn't that a bit... strange?"

"Why? Age is just a number, right?"

"Yeah, but... do you really think you're at the same stage in life?"

Oh, how naively optimistic you were. 

Perhaps you have been too quick to dismiss your loved one’s concerns, too eager to embrace the illusion of love in the arms of someone—his arms—who offered the fleeting promise of stability and security. 

“But he makes me feel loved and safe,”

“Does he?”

Was your love truly built to withstand the test of time, or was it merely a fleeting illusion, destined to crumble beneath the weight of your differences?

“Darling, can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure, Ma. What’s on your mind?”

"Well, I couldn't help but notice... you seem quite taken with this new guy you're seeing."

"Oh, you mean Leon? Yeah, we've been spending some time together."

"He's... older, isn't he?"

"Um, yeah, he is."

"I see... darling, I just want to make sure you're being careful. Dating someone older can bring its own set of challenges."

"I know, Ma. But he's different. He understands me in a way no one else does."

"I'm sure he does, dear…but promise me you'll take things slow and really get to know him before things get too serious."

"I promise, Mama.”

You've broken many promises with your mama, but why did this one hurt? Is it because you partially blame her for shaping you the way you are? Is it because she married your father? Maybe she would have lived a happier life if it weren't for him, if only.

But you thanked her, both her and him, for the lesson learned, for the wisdom imparted, for the love that had always been there, and for helping you recognise the kind of partner to avoid. 

You stood before the polished wooden door of Leon’s home office, your hand hovering in uncertainty over the ornate doorknob. Each second felt like an eternity as you battled with the torrent of doubts and fears that raged within you. 

You needed him, wanted him to hold you, and tell you that everything would be fine.

But what if he couldn’t understand your doubts? What if your confession shattered the fragile illusion of your love?

With a steady breath, you pushed aside your apprehensions and grasped the doorknob, steeling yourself for the conversation that lay ahead.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” His voice, gruff yet soft and reassuring, always managed to send shivers down your spine, freezing you in place. You couldn’t find the words to speak, and your throat suddenly dried.

Sensing your hesitation, he beckoned you closer with a gentle smile. You could see the experiences he went through, the complexities of adulthood etched into the lines that creased his weathered face.

“Come here, angel. Sit on my lap while I work.”

You obeyed, crossing the threshold into his office, your feet padding on the wooden floor as you made your way to him. Settling onto his lap, your linen dress pooled around you, the fabric soft against your skin. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you close, his rough touch sent warmth flooding through your veins.

You inhaled his scent, a mixture of citrus and wood, with a hint of something familiar: whisky. You thought he quit. Ready to question him, you opened your mouth, but he stopped you before you could question him.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, princess. I only drank a glass, I promised. I’m just a bit stressed.” 

“Mm, okay,” you replied, pushing aside your concerns for the moment as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.

You found solace in the familiar embrace of Leon's arms, the weight of your doubts momentarily forgotten as you leaned into his chest, burying your face against him. A few of his buttons were undone, allowing the soft hairs on his chest to brush against your face. 

"Is everything alright, angel?" Leon's voice, soft and concerned, pulled you back to the present moment.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just want to stay like this, with you," you murmured, the words slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

His arms tightened around you, drawing you closer, as if he could sense the hesitation in your voice. "Me too, princess. Me too," his stubble pricked your forehead as he murmured against them.

Oh, how weak you were. His voice and touch alone melted you into a puddle, and all your problems seemed to vanish in his embrace. Your mama wouldn’t be happy with how you turned out; she wished that you would never let a man make you weak like she was.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink deeper into his embrace, letting go of the weight of your doubts and worries. In this moment, all that mattered was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

Perhaps one day, when the time was right, you would find the courage to open up to him about your inner struggles. Until then, you cherished this moment, clawing in the warmth of his love.

Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, Leon whispered softly, "I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, Leon, always,” you replied. The words were a vow of unwavering devotion and love…was it really?

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.       

- Oscar Wilde

[piastrisun]

warming up to love.

pairings: franco colapinto + fem reader.

summary: beneath the falling snow, the warmth of a shared moment transforms a casual connection into something unforgettable.

genre: fluff.⠀word count: 3.6k.⠀ warning: none.

notes: i love writing long stuff about franco cause we know he’s a very talkative guy and would pull a before sunrise any day. this kinda made me wanna fall in love.

“oh, the weather outside is frightful / but the fire is so delightful / and since we've no place to go / let it snow.”

the christmas party hums with a mellow energy as the night winds down. it’s a familiar scene—mutual friends scattered across the house, the remnants of shared laughter echoing softly. you hadn’t planned to come this year; after all, these gatherings had long been a minefield of awkward encounters and unspoken wounds. your ex, the one who shattered your heart last christmas, always seemed to be at these parties, and the thought of facing him again was enough to make you steer clear.

but tonight is different. encouraged by a friend who insisted it would be ‘good for you,’ you found yourself here, hovering on the edges, nursing a glass of mulled wine by the fireplace. franco is here, too—franco, who has always been little more than a polite nod or a quick ‘hi.’ the two of you aren’t close, not even friends, really. yet as the evening stretches on, you find his presence more noticeable than usual, his laughter drawing glances from across the room.

most of the guests have either slipped away to spare rooms or are scattered in half-asleep clusters, the laughter and music now a faint echo in the house. you sit near the fireplace, nursing a mug of mulled wine, its spicy warmth a small comfort against the chill outside. the flickering flames cast golden light over the room, and you sink into the soft cushions of the couch, grateful for the moment of solitude.

until franco joins you.

you hear him before you see him, the faint sound of his footsteps against the hardwood floor. all evening, he’s been the centre of attention—his jokes landing perfectly, his energy magnetic, his laughter infectious. but now, as he lowers himself onto the couch beside you, he’s different. his movements are slower, deliberate, as though he’s shedding the playful bravado for something more genuine. he leans back, draping one arm casually over the backrest, close enough for you to feel his presence without it pressing on you.

“you’ve been sitting here for a while,” he says, his voice quieter than you expect, his accent rolling over the words with a natural charm. “thinking deep holiday thoughts?”

you glance at him, arching a brow, already on guard. “oh, you know, debating whether santa’s elves have a decent union.”

a grin spreads across his face, quick and easy. “they don’t,” he replies, leaning slightly toward you, his dark eyes sparkling in the firelight. “you can see it in their eyes—overworked, underpaid, stuck making toys for kids who’ll forget about them in five minutes.”

the corners of your mouth lift before you can stop yourself, the response catching you off guard. “exactly,” you say, meeting his gaze for a beat longer than you intended. “and don’t even get me started on rudolph. classic case of workplace exploitation.”

his laugh is rich, low, and unrestrained, and for a moment, it drowns out the crackle of the fire. “you’re good,” he says, his grin lingering. “sharp. i like that.”

you shrug, trying to deflect the sudden focus on you. “it’s just common sense. someone has to advocate for the underappreciated holiday workforce.”

his grin widens, but there’s a shift in his expression—something more curious, more intent. “so, do you always deflect with humour,” he asks, tilting his head slightly, “or is it just my lucky night?”

your lips part slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in the conversation. “and do you always psychoanalyse women at christmas parties?” you shoot back, the edge in your tone softened by the playful smile tugging at your lips.

“only the ones who seem like they have really good stories to tell,” he replies smoothly, his voice dipping lower.

you roll your eyes, though you feel the laugh bubbling up despite yourself. “you’re persistent, i’ll give you that.”

“i’m argentinian,” he says with a light shrug, as though that explains everything. “it’s genetic.”

the absurdity of the statement makes you laugh, this time unrestrained and genuine. you shift in your seat, tucking your legs beneath you as you hold your mug close, needing the warmth against your palms. he adjusts as well, leaning forward now, resting his elbows on his knees. his gaze is steady, direct, and disarmingly sincere.

“you’re good at this, you know,” he says, his tone softer now, almost conversational.

“at what?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

“deflecting,” he says simply, his eyes searching yours. “you tell a joke, flash a smile, and everyone forgets to ask the real questions.”

you shift uncomfortably, your grip tightening around the mug. “maybe i just don’t like questions,” you say, the words coming out more defensive than you intended.

“or maybe you don’t like answers,” he counters, his voice steady but without judgment.

the weight of his words settles over you, and you find yourself looking away, your gaze fixed on the fire. the orange glow feels safer than the intensity in his eyes.

“you’ve been hurt before,” he says, breaking the silence.

“haven’t we all?” you reply quickly, your tone sharper now, a reflex to protect yourself.

“sure,” he agrees, his voice calm, unbothered by your resistance. “but not everyone builds walls like you do.”

your shoulders tense, and you draw back slightly, the heat of the fire no longer comforting. “you don’t know me well enough to say that,” you reply, your voice quieter now, but firm.

“not yet,” he says, the gentleness in his tone catching you off guard. “but i’d like to.”

the vulnerability in his voice chips away at your defences, and for a moment, you exhale, leaning back into the couch. you’re silent, but the tension in your posture eases.

“it’s not that simple,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “people think you can just… open up and everything will be fine. but when you’ve given your heart to someone who didn’t want it, it’s hard to trust anyone with it again.”

his dark eyes don’t waver, his gaze steady but soft, and he nods slowly. “i get that,” he says. “but maybe the trick isn’t trusting someone else first. maybe it’s trusting yourself—that you’ll survive it if things don’t go the way you hope.”

☆

the flickering firelight dances across his face, softening his features, and his expression is open, patient, unhurried.

“you’re different than i thought you’d be,” he says after a long pause, his voice dropping lower.

“what did you think i’d be like?” you ask, curious despite yourself.

“i don’t know,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smile. “polished, untouchable, the kind of person who always has the upper hand.”

“and now?” you press, leaning in slightly, the space between you shrinking.

“still intimidating,” he admits, his smile widening just enough to make your heart skip. “but in a good way.”

for the first time, you let the moment linger, the tension between you shifting into something unspoken but undeniable.

the fire casts a warm glow over the room, its crackling filling the quiet pauses between words. you laugh, shaking your head, the sound light but genuine. a comfortable silence stretches between you and franco, and in that quiet, you feel it—a subtle but undeniable pull. it’s unspoken, yet it lingers, drawing you closer to him in a way that feels both surprising and inevitable.

“you’re not what i expected, either,” you say, your tone casual, though the words carry weight.

franco leans forward slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “oh? what did you expect?”

your lips curl into a teasing smile. “someone who tries too hard to be funny. but you’re just… effortlessly annoying.”

his laughter bursts out, rich and warm, and he clutches his chest dramatically. “effortlessly annoying? that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

you shake your head, your smile widening despite yourself. you can feel your guard slipping, piece by piece, the edges softening with every laugh, every shared glance.

☆

as the night drifts on, the conversation flows like an easy current, touching on favourite movies, childhood christmas memories, and absurd holiday traditions. you trade stories that are ridiculous and endearing, the kind that make your sides ache from laughter. each word exchanged deepens the connection between you, weaving a thread of familiarity where there was none before.

he leans back, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “you know, this has to be the best christmas conversation i’ve ever had. no offence to santa and the elves.”

you raise your brow, feigning seriousness. “i’ll take it as a compliment. i don’t usually do this, you know.”

he tilts his head, curiosity dancing in his expression. “what? talk to effortlessly annoying guys?”

“no,” you reply with a soft laugh. “sit here, opening up to someone i just met. it’s… different.”

the teasing fades from his face as he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to something quieter, more intent. “different good or different bad?”

you meet his gaze, your heart beating a little faster at the intensity in his eyes. “good,” you say softly. “definitely good.”

the fire crackles softly in the background, the rhythmic pops and hisses filling the spaces between breaths. your laughter, which had moments ago echoed brightly, now fades into something quieter, something deeper. the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s laced with a gentle understanding that neither of you has to name. you feel it—a warmth spreading through you, unfamiliar yet comforting, like an old song you’ve almost forgotten but still know by heart. it’s a feeling you haven’t let yourself embrace in years.

franco shifts slightly beside you, leaning forward as if to close the distance without intruding. his voice cuts through the quiet, warm and deliberate. “for the record,” he says, his lips curving into a faint, teasing smile, “you’re pretty good at this too.”

you glance at him, your brow lifting in subtle curiosity. “at what?”

his eyes linger on yours, the firelight flickering in their depths. he doesn’t hesitate, his tone softer now, almost confessional. “making me want to stay up all night talking to you.”

the words land heavier than you expect, and for a moment, your heart stumbles, a traitorous skip in its rhythm. you’re certain he notices, but for once, you don’t try to hide it.

your grip loosens slightly on your glass of wine, and you exhale, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope. the vulnerability in his words disarms you, but it’s the sincerity in his gaze that keeps you still, like he’s waiting, patiently, to see if you’ll let him stay.

☆

you stand near the balcony door, the hum of the christmas party a soft murmur inside. outside, the chill air brushes your skin, the twinkling lights from the decorations contrasting with the warmth of the fire crackling in the corner. your glass of wine rests in your hand, swirling gently, the dark liquid catching the firelight. you find yourself momentarily lost in the way the flames dance, tracing their movement, letting the quiet settle over you.

franco is standing beside you, so close now that his knee almost brushes against yours, but neither of you says anything. it's the first time tonight that the two of you have actually been alone, outside the usual nods and polite greetings you’ve exchanged over the years.

after a beat, he breaks the silence, his voice low but steady, like he’s testing the air between you.

“you know,” he begins, glancing toward you but keeping his gaze just slightly above yours, “i used to think love was supposed to be this big, dramatic thing. like fireworks and grand gestures.”

you raise an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth curling into a smirk as you shift your weight, the wine glass still twirling in your hand. “let me guess—movies and cheesy romance novels ruined you?”

franco laughs, the sound soft but amused, and you can hear the humour in his voice when he responds. “hey, i’m a romantic. sue me.”

you chuckle, the ease of his words making you relax, but there’s something in his tone that lingers. the idea of love as a grand, sweeping event feels familiar, even if it's been a long time since you've believed in it. the pause between the two of you stretches a little longer, the silence pulling at the edges of your thoughts, and you finally turn to him, looking at him fully for the first time tonight.

“and now?” you ask quietly, your voice catching the reflection of the fire in his eyes. “what do you think it’s supposed to be?”

he looks at you, really looks at you this time, and there's something about the way he shifts, the way he leans slightly forward, that makes his words hit you harder than you expect. his eyes are steady, but his voice is softer now, more introspective.

“i think it’s quieter,” he says, his tone almost reverent, like he's sharing a truth he's only just realised. “more like… finding someone who makes you feel like you’re home, no matter where you are.”

the words settle heavily in the space between you. you blink, your breath momentarily stuck in your chest. there's something in his expression, something real and raw, and it pulls you in. you turn your body slightly towards him, the firelight flickering off his face, and you can feel the weight of his honesty pressing into your own guarded heart.

“that’s nice," you say, almost whispering, but a knot tightens in your throat. you shift your gaze, struggling to maintain the usual lightness, but it’s hard now. "but what if you’ve been hurt? what if 'home' feels more like a risk than a refuge?”

franco doesn’t hesitate. his elbows drop to his knees, the movement slow and deliberate. he leans in just slightly, his shoulders squared toward you, and the teasing edge that usually follows him is gone, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

“then maybe you stop looking for a perfect home,” he responds, voice steady, each word measured. “maybe you find someone who’s willing to build it with you, one piece at a time. even if it’s messy.”

the simplicity of his answer leaves you breathless for a second. you swallow, feeling something shift within you, like a door cracking open just a little wider. his words hang in the air, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel the weight of them settle into your chest. it’s a thought you’ve buried for a long time, and you feel a flicker of warmth in the cold air around you.

“you make it sound so simple,” you say, a soft laugh escaping you, though your voice is quieter now, more fragile.

his lips twitch into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes right away. he glances at you, his gaze lingering before he answers. “it’s not. but i think the right person makes it worth the mess.”

you exhale, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly, though his words have left something unspoken between you. the weight of the conversation feels too heavy to hold onto for much longer, so you try to shift the mood. you take a deep breath and let the faintest hint of a smile curve your lips.

“okay, mr. romantic,” you tease, your voice a little lighter now. “what’s your other grand passion? what keeps you up at night?”

franco grins, the teasing spark returning to his eyes. “besides annoy people by fireplaces?”

you laugh, shaking your head at him, but there’s something different in the way you look at him now, something softer in your gaze. you catch the slight change in his expression, the way his eyes soften, even if only for a fraction of a second, as he watches you.

“i like cooking, actually,” he says, a genuine warmth to his voice. he leans back slightly, the tension leaving his shoulders as he talks. “there’s something about making a meal for someone—putting care into every detail, knowing it’s going to bring them joy.”

you raise an eyebrow, amusement creeping back into your features, but there’s a spark of curiosity now, too. “cooking, huh? sounds like an elaborate way to flirt.”

franco’s grin widens, and you notice the way his eyes twinkle with mischief. “absolutely. works every time.”

you lean back, finally allowing a full smile to spread across your face. it feels natural, comfortable, the awkward tension of the night slipping away with the shared laughter, but something lingers—a connection that wasn’t there before. the warmth of the fire and the quiet rhythm of your conversation are the only things that matter now.

you lean back, your body sinking slightly into the chair, the chill of the balcony air brushing against your skin. the soft hum of the christmas party drifts in from the room behind you, but here, the cold night air feels refreshing, clearing the noise in your head. your smile lingers, and you can’t help but feel a change in the air. the distance between you and franco now feels different—closer, more intimate.

“i like that,” you say, your voice calm but thoughtful. “the way you think about it, i mean. cooking for someone. it’s... intimate.”

franco shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his gaze focused on you. “what about you?” he asks, his voice soft, genuinely curious. “what’s the thing that makes your heart beat a little faster?”

you hesitate for a moment, the chill in the air suddenly making you feel a little warmer under his gaze. his openness makes you feel safe enough to share, and without thinking, the words tumble out of you.

“i write,” you say, your voice quiet, almost wistful. “or i used to, before life got in the way. it’s like... the only time i’ve ever felt completely free.”

his expression softens, his gaze gentle as he watches you, and for a brief moment, the world around you seems to fade. he looks like he understands the weight of your words. "why’d you stop?” he asks, his voice low, quiet with concern.

you shrug, avoiding his gaze, not wanting to face the vulnerability in your own eyes. “fear, maybe,” you reply, the words hanging heavily between you. “that i wasn’t good enough. that it wasn’t practical.”

“fear’s a bad reason to stop doing something you love,”he responds, his tone firm but gentle, almost as though he’s speaking to himself as much as to you.

the silence lingers in the space between you, and the cool night air feels heavier, somehow more present. you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest, your breath catching slightly as you meet his gaze. the snow falls gently, glowing faintly in the moonlight. the world feels suspended, quiet, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you in this stillness, and nothing else matters. there’s a sincerity in his eyes that pulls you in deeper, something you can’t quite explain.

“you should writing again,” he adds, his voice softer now, almost like a quiet plea. “you’re too passionate to keep it all locked inside.”

you swallow, the idea of writing again making something stir in your chest. but you don’t let it show, instead trying to keep the mood light. “and you should stop psychoanalysing strangers at christmas parties,” you tease, a small smile tugging at your lips.

he grins, a playful glint in his eyes, but there’s a shift. his gaze softens, and the playful atmosphere between you both changes. “maybe i’ll make it my new year’s resolution,” he says with a teasing tone, but there’s something deeper in his voice now. “right after ‘kiss beautiful smart women by fireplaces.’”

you laugh, a warm, genuine sound that seems to break the tension between you. but when your eyes meet again, the air is different. the laughter fades, replaced by a quiet understanding that neither of you can ignore. there’s a pull, something magnetic. his smile fades into something deeper, and you feel it too—a tension you haven’t felt in years.

“can i?” his voice is soft, his eyes searching yours, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that makes your heart race.

you nod, your throat tight, unable to say anything. but your silence speaks volumes, and it’s enough. he gives you every opportunity to pull away, but you don’t. you stay, rooted to the spot, as his lips hover just inches from yours, your heart pounding in your chest as he inches closer.

the kiss comes softly at first, tentative, almost as though he’s testing the waters, unsure of the fragility of the moment. but then, something shifts. the warmth between you builds, and the kiss deepens, both of you leaning into it, the connection effortless. it’s like you’ve both been waiting for this, and now that it’s here, it feels as though nothing else matters—just the two of you, wrapped in the glow of the lights and the quiet of the night. you both lean into it, your bodies moving as if they’ve known how to do this all along. it feels natural, easy, like the conversation you’ve had all night.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth. franco’s smile is softer now, more intimate, and it makes your heart flutter.

“you’re a hard one to read, you know that?” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, though his eyes are still searching yours.

you shake your head, the smile lingering on your lips. “and you’re impossible to ignore.”

the soft crackle of the fire still echoes from the living room, and the snow falls gently on your coat, glowing faintly in the moonlight. but here, on the balcony, it’s just the two of you. for the first time in a year, you feel something stir within you—a piece of yourself that you thought was lost. and in that moment, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found it again.

©⠀piastrisun original work. please don’t translate, claim or repost any of my writing, 24’.

[ttarpii]

satisfied - sakusa k. - Prologue

May 5, 2014 ~ 800 words

m.list

For as long as she could remember, yn had the privilege of Sakusa Kiyoomi's presence in her life. In the beginning, he was just a subtle light that would creep in through the blinds of her heart, but day by day, his light would eventually envelop her being in a soft, yet persistent warmth, and their souls would intertwine into a beautiful knot of friendship.

Everyone has their special person, their other half that complements them in every way. Someone who can tell how you feel without a second glance, someone who can soften your heart when times are tough, and bring out the best of you, all while simultaneously healing the wounds that you didn't even know you had. Sakusa had always been her special person, and she liked to hold onto the greedy feeling that perhaps, she was his.

For the majority of it's existence, their relationship was that of best friends, and neither questioned or addressed it, because, what was the point? When they were kids, anyone could tell that the pair were inseparable. But as people grow up, the concept of two people of the opposite gender being "just friends" becomes more and more unfeasible. In highschool, their classmates didn't ignore the gentle privilege that only yn recieved from the moody spiker.

"Yn, aren't you gonna confront that new girl? Its embarrassing how hard she's tryna get with Sakusa.."

"Why would I care if she wants to date him? They'd make a cute couple honestly 🤔"

"so you're telling me there's seriously nothing going on between you guys?? You're joking right..? I've known Sakusa for 2 years and the only times I've seen him smile are when he's with you, AND TRUST ME, MY INSTINCTS ARE TELLING ME ITS LOVE. 😏"

"I mean.. I've never really thought about it that way before, but I'm sure it's just because we've known eachother so long 😭"

"you're stronger than I could ever be yn, you have this total hottie at your beck and call and you don't like him a little bit?? 😔"

Conversations about their relationship were frequent, and they only grew day by day. At first, Yn was annoyed. Sakusa was her best friend, and it felt like people were insulting their decade long friendship. But as the conversations only dragged on, she started to tolerate them, and then, she started to listen. It was undoubtedly true that Sakusa treated her differently from everybody else, and it was also true that he was indeed very handsome. She never noticed it growing up, but his curly locks framed his face in the perfect way, and his eyes had a special charm to them that fit his chiseled features. Not to mention, the moles adourning his face only added to his beauty. It wasn't long until she realized her feelings. That what she thought was platonic was actually much more complex.

Her friends and peers would only feed her delusions, and eventually, she started to act differently around him, hoping he'd maybe take the hint, confess his undying love for her, and then make a dashing proposal asking her to be his girlfriend. The changes were subtle, she would start wearing makeup around him, be just a tad bit more touchy, and of course bring up romance every so often.

But even if the changes were subtle, of course her best friend would immediately notice them. And of course, he would react, right? But, he didn't? And maybe that was the first sign that something was off. He never gave her any hints back of the possibility of liking her. And eventually, she could tell her efforts were in vain, because the comfort they typically had was gone. An outsider wouldnt have noticed anything, but she knew. There was an uncertainess in his smile, and his voice and touch wavered. She had been wondering when he would recognize her efforts, until she realized. She finally figured out the quintessential fact that shattered her world. The eyes he gave her were special, but they were always set for something else. Sure, he was different with her, but with volleyball, he shown the brightest, and she knew her presence could never give him what volleyball gave him.

He knew of her feelings, but he would never like her back.

It was a simple, yet obvious conclusion. She had been making a fool of herself, how could she call herself his bestfriend if she couldnt even notice how he felt about her? They were strictly platonic, nothing else. In a fit of embarrassment, the extra attention she gave him vanished quickly, and were replaced with larger walls intended to protect him from her evergrowing feelings. And as they grew up, these childish feelings of hers only grew, but as they increased she would only get better at hiding them. Because, it didn't matter if he would never like her back, as long as she had him in her life, she would be satisfied.

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IM ACTUALLY SO SORRY HOW LONG THIS TOOK TO COME OUT. OH MY GOSH IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR FORGIVENESS 😭😭😭

Future updates will not take as long I pinky promise 😞😓🤙

anyways sorry if this chapter was a little boring!! I js wanted to set up some background before getting into the main dish.. 😈😈😈

yn is actually so strong bc I would've folded so hard and so quickly for sakusa

I love it when I can write the title of the story in the actual writing, and I can tell it's going to happen a lot in this one

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taglist(5/30) @soobinsbreadscrumbs @scxrcherr @tsukkinginamo @madiexuberant @eleanorheartschishiya

[laurensxdeath]

Fate

Emily Prentiss x reader

Emily is your soulmate, but you're convinced you aren't hers. (soulmate/soulmark au)

Thanks @ghost-rattan for helping me with this :)

When you turn 15, your soulmate's name appears on your wrist. Emily Prentiss.

You find her when you join the FBI. You're wearing long sleeves that day, so she doesn't notice her name tattooed on your wrist as you shake hands. You decide it's probably best to keep it this way for now, and you continue wearing long sleeved shirts to work everyday.

You like Emily, more than you probably should for knowing someone such a short amount of time.

It starts soon after you join the team. She welcomes you, as do the rest of the team. But with her it's different. She makes you feel like you really belong, you haven't had that before. Maybe that's why it started.

It's about after a month you've joined the team, You, Emily, JJ And Penelope are all having a girl's night. After being questioned relentlessly by Penelope about her soulmate, Emily tells everyone.

"Yes, I've met her. We've been dating for a while and just moved in together" she says, rolling her eyes. Your heart shatters. Emily was in love with someone else. To caught up in the conversation, you excuse yourself to get another drink and no one notices as you slip out of the apartment.

You just drive around in your car aimlessly for a while, thinking. You eventually end up back at your apartment. You park your car and check your phone. It had been blown up with notifications from the girls' asking where you went. You sigh before typing out a response.

JJ

Y/n/n where did you go? Call me back please, we're worried about you.

- 10:47PM

Hey JJ, sorry I wasn't feeling

well and needed to clear my head. Im alright, didn't mean to make you stress. -11:07PM

You unlock your door, tears leaking from your eyes. Frustratedly you wipe them away and go to bed. You find it difficult to sleep, just laying in bed thinking. You eventually drift off.

You wake up to your alarm buzzing. You hadn't slept much. You eat and shower, you search your closet for what to wear. As you reach for a shirt your wrist catches your eye. Emily's name. You take a deep breath, and try to forget about it. It didn't matter anyway.

You'd do what you'd always done when you caught feelings for someone, you'd distance yourself until you got over them.

At least there wasn't a case today, not that paperwork was much fun. You just didn't feel like you could think about anything else properly today.

You walk out of the elevator and Emily's the first to greet you. "Hey Y/n! You feeling alright today? JJ mentioned that's why you left early last night" you grit your teeth, not wanting to talk about it.

"Yeah, much better" she frowns as if she doesn't believe you. "You know you can talk to me?" She reaches for your hand and you don't meet her eyes. "Yeah, I know" you say as you walk away. You glance back over her shoulder and see her frowning at you. Maybe it's best you weren't near her right now.

You make your way over to Garcia's room and she greets you enthusiastically. You give her a small half smile and she questions if you're still feeling off.

"Yeah, a little" you tell her. She frowns at you. "What's the matter?" You sigh. "I'm sorry, I really don't want to talk about it right now" you tell her. She nods. "Okay but I'm here when you're ready!" You smile at her. "Thanks Pen"

You make an instant coffee, and walk back to your desk to get started. You place your earphones in to block out the world around you and manage to work undisturbed until lunch.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. You take an earphone out and turn around to see Emily. "Hey, it's lunch. Have you eaten yet?" You shake your head. "No, I've been working I'll have something later" she frowns. "work can wait a few minutes, let's go get something to eat" you want to, but remind yourself that you're trying to get over her. and the best way to do that is by avoiding her. "I'll have something later, Emily. I want to finish this" she looks sad. Can't she just ask JJ or someone? She walks away and you put your earphone back in.

She walks back in a few minutes later, puts a sandwich on your desk and goes back to her own work. You're starting to hate the butterflies she gives you.

At the end of the day you rush out to your car, hoping she won't try to talk to you again. You drive back to your apartment and immediately get changed into cooler clothes, you could finally wear short sleeves now that you're back.

You turn on the tv and watch that for a few hours. It's good to focus on something other than Emily.

You're about to get up to order takeaway, but you hear a knock at your door. You pause the tv and go to answer it. You open the door and find Emily there.

"Emily?" She smiles. "Hey Y/n/n. Can I come in?" You give a small nod and move out of the way. She gestures for you to follow her and you both sit down on the couch. You fold your arms, unconsciously keeping your tattooed wrist hidden.

"I can tell something's going on with you, you're upset about something and pushing me away. Why?" You don't answer right away, you just sit there with your arms folded while you stare at the ground. "Nothing is wrong Emily. I don't know what you hope to achieve by coming here" you tell her, but she still isn't convinced.

She reaches for your hand and her fingers gently trace against your wrist, you don't even register that it's not covered. "Y/n/n? What's this?" She's says. You freeze.

Fuck. You weren't wearing long sleeves. She'd seen her name on your wrist. You yank your hand back from her gentle grip, as you stand up and wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel tears pooling in your eyes and you force yourself to breathe normally even though you're panicking.

"I think you should go, Emily" you don't look at her. "Y/n, look at me. Please" you feel sick. She wasn't supposed to find out. She's already met her soulmate.

Tears start to spill from your eyes and you wipe them away quickly. Emily stands in front of you and takes your hand again, but you still refuse to look at her. "Y/n/n, Look at my wrist" you meet her eyes, before looking down at her wrist.

She's removed her watch, that once covered a tattoo of her soulmark. Of your name.

Emily interlaces her fingers with yours. "You're my soulmate too, y/n" you're to confused to speak yet, didn't she have a soulmate already?

"Is this why you've been acting off lately? Why you left Garcia's that night without telling anyone? I remember you only left after we started talking about my partner" You pull your hand back and lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms in front of you.

"I know you already have a partner Em, this doesn't have to mean anything" you tell her. You wouldn't make her choose. You shut your eyes and try to stop crying as your head rests on the wall behind you.

You only open your eyes again as you feel Emily's hand rest gently on your cheek, wiping away your tears. "Y/n/n, I'm not dating anyone. I only said that to Garcia so she'd leave the topic alone. I love you, you're my soulmate" she says, resting her forehead against yours.

You smile up at her as you lightly thread your fingers through her hair and kiss her gently.

"I love you too, Emily"

I'm still fairly new to writing, feedback is appreciated :)

[sangoqueenkoko]

I don't want realism; I want magic

angst

MAIN MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

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Previous, Part 1 | Part 2 | Next, Part 3

Synopsis: Being with Dottore for some time is enough to drive some insane. But what about living with him? Thick and thin. Sweet and sour. Love and hatred. Lust and chastity. It all burns passionately. Wrapped around each other's fingers.

Warnings? This is an experimental series. Also contains the mention of inner body parts, blood and gore.

He finally exploded. Combusted.

Shattered.

Finally.

All the built-up anger that led to this moment could finally escape. In an unfortunate way.

And unfortunately, this isn’t an illusion. It’s actually happening. Whatever toxic gas that could be concocted in the Hell that is his Lab hadn’t affected you to the point of changing your reality to the magic most wanted. No.

His breath was heavy—seething, in fact. He looked over his shoulder at you. At this point, he had removed his mask so you could see the anger in his eyes in all its glory. They pierced your soul.

He would turn to you before walking over. It was like he suddenly appeared in front of you, and the fast rhythm of your panicked heart may as well have been the speed at which he was walking. The closer he got, the more of his body heat you could feel and the more anger you could sense.

"Of all pathetic homo-sapiens to be this disruptive and disrespecting to my research, I never would have never expected it to be you", Dottore growled with his hands behind his back, coat nowhere to be seen again. His eyes were full of fire, no reconciliation to be seen nearby; they were alluring to some, deadly to most. Like the so-called innocence of a rosebud, to the prickly points on its stem, dealing harm even if it didn’t want to, no matter how careful. His hair is a little unkempt due to the amount of time he's spent working with no self-care. Which you always cared for even if he didn't. But he didn't seem to care about what you thought at the moment. He didn’t care what anyone thought at this point. But his mask was always perfectly in place. As if he's always trying to conceal something away from everyone he comes across.

But he isn't concealing his anger now. He's let it out.

"I-I'm sorry, Zan-" you would try to muster up an excuse he would take, but you don't know why because he can see through anyone's lies like glass. No one else’s anger made your usually composed and undeviating composure waver unless it was from Dottore.

"Do NOT call me that!" he spat, lunging forward towards you, but he caught himself at the last second and tried to hold himself back. The sudden movement from him made you move back, too; you hated being in the path of his destructive anger; he could do literally anything. But he hated that name. Zandik. It reminded him of his Akademiya days. "Never, EVER speak of that name again! I have heard that name FAR too many times over the years, and I am sick of it! Especially hearing it from you! I loathe it! You make it oh so much worse. And I. AM. FINISHED!"

What happened after that—an argument or conversation, if you even call it that—was awkward but surreal. You had never seen him so angry, especially towards yourself, especially over the measliest of things. Now you know what other people felt when The Doctor was beyond seething.

Poor you.

Pity.

Though you were used to it, it still hit close.

When he was in various moods, you knew it was better to leave him alone and let him cool off, to do whatever cacophonous activities he pleased.

In the meantime, you knew to do your own thing, be it reading, talking, walking to let your thoughts simmer and fester, or practising sparring. No one could ever separate you from your blade.

"Heh," Childe mused with his usual shit-eating grin as he put his bow away, it disappearing beside his waist in a small cloud of golden sparkles before they hurridly faded away, "remember, we've been over this, girlie. Many times. Disputes happen. Adohiro and I have them, even over the pettiest things. And it's no different for you and The Doctor either. Even if... he tends to be a loose canon sometimes," he admitted openly, because you obviously knew that already. But you wouldn't call it 'petty.'

Despite your loose friendship, as in you and Childe, you were both good at fighting. He was always looking for a fight with those who would... 'ask for it,' and you were always up to the opportunity to refine your skills and execute them perfectly. So, if someone came upon you two sparring, they would think it looks like a dance. The way both of your manoeuvres melt together creates something that flows smoother than water: perfect pars, swift flourishing, and endless energy. Flashy.

It was comfortable for both of you. Your sword, slender, dark in colour, like obsidian, yet shiny, with no stains despite your work, would collide with Childe's slick, ocean-blue Riptide blades. From time to time, it would be some friendly jabs and remarks at each other before it would work up the energy and get a little more aggressive, as it would be if you were to actually fight against a foe. More flamboyant.

You could easily tell he was enjoying it, almost like he was showing off. But the word 'petty' stuck in your mind like an adhesive; he may not have meant it to be necessary, but you didn't see it like he did. That drove you to fight for your life, so to speak. And whatever he said next would fall upon your deaf ears.

Let’s just say that no words were spoken for a while.

Nothing but the sounds of quick swoops and clangs as weapons collided. The occasional friendly jabs turned into witty quips shared between the two of you, only before more swoops and clangs would sound out more rapidly with more force. With wits at their ends, it would be a surprise if someone got hurt, right? Right?

No matter. Because how could either of you get hurt? You’re both skilled bladesman. Meaning that no matter the circumstances you shouldn’t get hurt, you should only deal damage to those that don’t matter.

That was also told to you in your line of work. Constantly. This drove you. And it drove you insane. The idea of hurting the seemingly innocent until proven til they perish. They’ve worked alongside the criminally insane without knowing? Kill them. Their family? Kill them; there can’t be any more ‘bad blood’ spared. Knowing that you were once as innocent as the genuinely innocent you have killed haunted you; it was this burden that sat and will forever sit, on your shoulders until your own death. Constantly whispering to you, reminding you every day. Without fail. Like the angels and demons on either side of you. Only that it was only the demon. The angel was still there. But it was long dead. Dead by the hands of your own being. Signifying you are no longer innocent. And haven't been for a long time

You had a quick breather between quick rounds. During this break, you protested because you wanted to keep going, but Childe persisted.

"You've gotten much better than last time, Konchina" He took a deep breath as he put his arm in front of him, stretching it as his other arm held it close to his chest before lightly shaking it, relieving the tension pent up from the sudden blade swings.

"Of course, I've gotten better, Tartaglia", you retorted, mocking his enthusiasm in the way he said your 'name' "I can only get better from here."

He shrugged after a brief silence as he let the air settle between you both. "Okay, whatever you say. Just don't push yourself. I have to keep telling you this; the more you do this, the more you push yourself to your limit, and the more likely you will get hurt and put out of commission, depending on the severity, of course. And you know that Her Majesty can't have any of her followers, especially one of her close subordinates, out of action when work needs to be done. And you know what The Do-"

He would begin to carry on but was immediately cut off by you groaning at the name, throwing your sword down as it bedded itself into the dirt, standing at an angle, "Do not bring him up now. I can't tolerate him now, and I don't think he will be able to tolerate me now after... what happened." You would rather not think about that again.

And, of course, you know what The Doctor will say; it wouldn't be the first time. He keeps you close to his lab until you get better, not until he patches you up while giving you a long lecture. Ugh. You can't stand his lectures. As knowledgeable as he is in the medical field, it doesn't help that when you want peace, he can't keep his mouth shut.

Like last time, the last time you hurt yourself was during another spar session, this time with the Captain himself, Capitano. You got too into it, pent-up emotions up to the brim as you swung your weapon a little too hard and fast and accidentally dislocated your shoulder. As uncomfortable as it was, Capitano advised you to get it fixed, against your wishes, as you still wanted to fight. Thus sending you to the lab that is Dottore's. When you walked in, and he saw the damage, even at a glance, he knew; he sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he didn't have his mask on due to what he was working on; he snapped his fingers, echoing across the room, before pointing at the chair beside his main lab desk.

He pushed your arm back into place with a resounding POP, immediately followed by you sounding in agony despite restraining yourself.

"Tut. You know full well not to throw your body weight in a fight unless it is detrimental. You should know that by now." He would say things like that, only more patronizing; at least, that's what it felt like.

"You know to leave him alone and do whatever he wants," Childe mentioned. I've heard that before, you thought. Many times. "Now. Where were we?" he smirked as he picked his weapon up again.

Reaping up your weapon out of the ground began round two.

Those memories came back and took control. What you've been told many times came back and took control. And it wanted to do some damage. Yet, it would only backfire.

CLANG. CLANG. CRASH. PING.

Was the sounds of your blades. Only the PING was when Childe managed to disarm you and accidentally pierced your right upper quadrant. He dropped his weapons once he noticed.

"(Y/N)! Oh my- I genuinely didn't mean to do that-"

"Childe! I'm fine," you said with a shaky voice, speaking through the adrenaline rush that was now coming to a close, the pain slowly yet quickly overtaking your side.

"Let's get you to the lab- and yes, we are going!" he said quickly before you could even think about protesting, "and I don't care what The Doctor thinks; he has to help."

He will.

He must.

taglist: @jqnehr • @rain-soaked-sun • @mmeatt • @leoisgayforwriting (for Childe) •

please fill out the Google form on the series masterlist if you want to be added! :3

[practically-an-x-man]

Prompt: Write a crossover where two of your OCs who aren't from the same fic interact

My first thought was Ophelia and Gia, but then I remembered that they can coexist in the same canon and could interact in their main fics... but eh, you're getting Ophelia and Gia anyway XD

____

The door to Gia's shop swung open, accompanied by the pleasant chime of a bell, and she scurried up to the front desk as quickly as she could. Thistle chirped from his enclosure in the far corner of the room, and Gia briefly saw the customer's eyes dance over to him as she crossed the room.

She had sharp eyes. Eyes like Kate's, or one of Kate's friends. A super-type, then. She seemed amicable enough and was dressed in casual streetclothes, but the strict set of her posture and the way her eyes darted across the room just screamed vigilante. Gia fought the urge to bristle. It didn't have to mean anything. Maybe she just wanted flowers.

"Good afternoon!" Gia said, pushing a smile she didn't quite feel, "I'm Gia, what can I do for you?"

"Ophelia." the woman replied, and it took Gia a moment to realize she'd offered her name before any other request. She couldn't tell if it was an attempt to be polite, or if she'd just expected Gia to ask for her name and was still operating on autopilot. "Er, a cat-safe bouquet, please. Reds and blues if you can."

So she was just here for flowers. That was too specific an order to be a cover for something, Gia thought. Still, her movements were cautious at first as she began to pull together a few materials.

"I like your flag," Ophelia's voice made her head pop up, and Gia found one callused finger pointing at the orange-and-pink striped flag draped over the back wall.

"Oh, thank you." Gia replied, wondering how to feel about it.

"Pretty metal to have that hanging up, 'specially in Hell's Kitchen," Ophelia continued - utterly shattering any illusions Gia might have had about her just thinking they were "pretty sunset colors" like some of the others who complimented it.

"It's not too bad. We've got, uh... a guy around here who tends to take out the bad apples."

"Heh. Yeah, we've got some of those too."

She caught on quick. And, if Gia heard it correctly, there was almost a note of pride in her tone. Definitely one of those super-types.

"Where're you from?" Gia couldn't help but ask.

"Manhattan." Ophelia replied. She opened her mouth like she was about to say more, then just snapped it shut. Gia didn't push.

"Are these for your girlfriend?" she asked instead, trying to make conversation as she assembled the flowers. She wondered briefly if that was overstepping, but... she'd noticed the flag straightaway, and that had to indicate something, right? At least enough that the question shouldn't offend her, Gia thought.

"Boyfriend, actually." Ophelia replied, casually wandering the shop as she spoke. She had a bit of a limp, Gia noticed, and wondered if she might be a fellow amputee- but it would be rude to ask. Sometimes she wished she could just shut her brain off. Her job was to make the bouquets, not to wonder about the people that bought them.

Ophelia kept walking the shop, speaking in the same confidence, casual tone. "But I don't understand why flowers have to be a girl thing, y'know? I mean, obviously he likes pretty things- he's dating me."

And then she met Gia's eyes and winked.

Her face exploded with heat, and she nearly staggered straight into the table. Gia ducked her head, desperately focusing on the flowers rather than the woman in front of her. She was happy with Kate, more than happy, but... damn.

"What about you?" Ophelia asked, at least polite enough to keep the conversation moving, "Girlfriend?"

"Mm-hmm." Gia managed, though she was sure her whole face was still cherry-red. Her hands were twitchy, clumsy, as she wrapped the bouquet.

"Does she have a favorite flower?"

"Cactus." Gia joked, finally managing to lift her eyes, " 'Cause it's about the only plant she can't kill."

Ophelia let out a raucous, barking laugh that rang through the shop, and Gia found herself grinning back at her. Ophelia tossed her a one-sided shrug and a crooked smile.

"Yeah, I'm the same way. Peter knows better than to buy me flowers. He's not much better with 'em either, but I still think it'll be a sweet gesture."

Gia finally finished arranging the flowers and wrapped them in a sheaf of recycled paper - plastic may have been more common, but there was too much plastic in the world already. She held the completed bouquet out to Ophelia: pale African violets and blue asters wrapped around a cluster of bright red zinnias.

"Here you go," she said, "Cat-safe reds and blues. Cash or card?"

Ophelia paid in cash and left a generous tip without remarking on it, and held the bouquet protectively against her chest as she made her way out of the shop.

She paused just before she reached the door, swiveling over her shoulder and favoring her weaker leg.

"Hey, uh, don't take this the wrong way, I'm really happy with my partner and I'm sure you are too, but-" she said, "You're pretty cute. She's lucky to have you."

She was gone before Gia could think to respond.

[lilydaisylily]

I Love you (part 3)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Y/N (reader)

Hi lovely readers! Here comes part 3 for this series and I really hope you'll enjoy it! If you have some spare time, would really appreciate it if you can hit like and repost this post so other reader can read it too! Love you lots!✨️

Do not copy. All right reserved.

Happy reading!✨️

🦋 🦋 🦋 🦋 🦋 🦋

Jessica fucking Thompson.

You knew that voice anywhere. The very voice that always there to take whatever it is that belongs to you, but always so fucking unlucky for every second of the time. Thank heavens for that.

"Y/N! What a coincident! What are you doing here?" Jessica ask you with a very annoying high pitch voice.

"Do I look like I'm here to cook, Jessica?" You swear she'll annoys you to death by just breathing.

"Aww, don't be like that! Looks like you hurt your hand with, let me think, umm like some kind of an acid accident? How unfortunate." A wicked glint flashes in Jessica's eyes as she eyeing your injury, gloating for your bad luck.

So she's the mastermind here. How predictable.

Sometimes you wonder how on earth does this stupid human being can live and kicking until today, unscattered and happy? Who in their right mind will casually admitting to their crime in broad daylight? You really don't know what kind of good deed she did in her past life to be blessed with this life that she have today.

On the other hand, being a sharp person that she is, Rebecca swiftly turn on her phone recording rightly after she noticed Jessica coming towards you a few second ago. She have this hunch that it will be worth it to record your conversation. Hence, the unofficial confession from the villain has been recorded successfully.

Taking your silent as a yes, Jessica continues to provoke your emotion, "Looks like I'm right, 'ey? Aww poor Y/N! Have you cried to Cheollie about this yet? Oh, wait! You guys are not together anymore, right? Oh my god, I am so sorry! Double boohoo for you, Y/N!"

Before you can even retort her, Jessica continue, "You know what Y/N, you better stop pestering Cheollie from now on because," she paused her word for a second as she look down on her stomach and caressing it gently before she carry on, "Well, because he's going to be the father to our child! I'm pregnant with Cheollie's child, Y/N! It's wonderful, isn't?" Armed with a lovely and gentle smile as her disguise, the bomb of a news that she throws at you makes your heart shattered completely, making you feel empty inside like a broken doll.

"What did you just say?" You can't help it but to question her again, as you're unwilling to believe the news you just heard.

"I'm pregnant with Cheollie's child, silly Y/N! Well, it's just been for like, 3 weeks old, but-" you cannot bring yourself to listen to the rest of her words as you cut her off with an emotionless 'congratulation' and make a bee-line towards your car outside the ER. Rebecca silently followed you out, not missing the evil, psycho grin from Jessica after you left.

"You've got the recording, right?" You asked Rebecca once you both boarding the car. "Yes, President. I'll settle this matter as soon as possible."

"Good. Make sure she reap a dozen of what she sow this time. I think I had enough of her antics in this life." You gave her your final sentence grudgingly while holding onto your injured hand.

*

"Boss, we found her. She just came out from AV Hospital after her appointment with an O&G specialist. We've looked into the system and found out that," a little hesitation coming from the other side of the line before gathering their courage to continue the report, "well, we discovered that Jessica is currently bearing a child, about 3 weeks old."

There you have it. The deathly report has been conveyed to the hell king and its only a matter of time for the hell to break loose.

"Find out who's the father is no matter the method and don't let this news spread, especially not to Y/N. If she come to realize this because of your incompetant, you know whats coming for you." Before Seungcheol got their acknowledgement on their new mission, his henchmen disclose the information he dreaded the most where you already knew the pregnancy news from none other than Jessica herself.

An eerie silence from Seungcheol's side makes them break into a very cold sweat.

All hell will break loose soon indeed.

*

"I can work anywhere I want, right? Right Becca?" Your ride from the hospital has been masked with a serene silence until you broke it by asking the question out of the blue.

"Of course, President. Wherever you are, I'll tag along and do my best to assist you." Determined to stay by your side, Rebecca will go anywhere with you as long as you bring her along. That's her promise when she started her service in your company.

"No, Becca. I need you to stay here, to keep all the staff in check for me. I won't be out for long, maybe a couple of months, or maybe a year, top." Smiling, you carry on with your words, "I think my heart needs some healing I never knew I needed, Becca. And its definitely not here." A stream of tears gushing out from your eyes as you can't seem to hold back your sadness any longer. Rebecca can't help it but to engulfed you into the tighest hug ever as a way to console you, even for a little while.

You asked the driver to drop you off at Mingyu's house and once again, you can't keep your tears in when he's already standing tall on his yard, barefoot and looking anxious while waiting for you. He streched his long legs towards your side and give you a big bear hug that you deserve. Rebecca bow respectfully to you both and quietly leave you with Mingyu as she knew you are in good hands.

After Mingyu heard the shocking revelation from you, he can't help but to narrated a long, colourful curses to both Seungcheol and Jessica for doing this to you.

"I swear I'll give them a piece of my mind when we meet up. Gosh, this is so frustrating! What's in his mind that he have the heart to treat you like this?!" Said Mingyu while angrily chopping poor potatoes and tomatoes to make you some of your favourite hot soup of his. His cooking has never ceased to amaze you and you love every single thing about it.

You both take your seat at the dining table once Mingyu finished his cooking. Gosh, his cooking definitely a precious gift from the heaven. "Gyu, may I ask you a favour?" You meekly asked Mingyu about the decision you've made this afternoon. Mingyu put down his spoon to give you his full attention and motioning you to continue.

"I want to go somewhere far away from here. A place where Seungcheol can't find me eventhough he might not and I know you're the only one who can outsmart him on this, well maybe Jeonghan too. Will you help me?" Taking your uninjured hand in his, he agreed readily to your request and he already got some place in mind that he'll share with you later. You thank him for always be there for you before you both heard the door bell ringing.

Bethany and Wonwoo both engulfed you in a tight group hug, well, with a carefully hugging session of course, to avoid any more injury there is.

"I wish I could just chop both of that bitch's hand! Why is she not changing at all? After all these years and she's still playing this snatching game? What a loser!" Bethany can't contain her anger as she stabbed the poor potato in her soup bowl.

"Actually, I just have this one speculation on my mind after the day we found out about your breakup with Seungcheol hyung." All eyes and ears are on Wonwoo and he continue his theory after he got the attention he need.

"I just don't understand why Seungcheol hyung suddenly acted this way. Like, we all knew him for a long time even before you two started dating, right? He's not someone whom will cheat on his partner no matter how short the relationship last between them. Look, I know people can change anytime but old habit die hard, right? So my conclusion here is, I think what is currently going on between the two of you and that bitch Jessica might not be 100% of Seungcheol hyung's fault. Something more might be behind it than the one that meets the eye."

Quietness engulfed everyone in the dining room with all eyes on Wonwoo, feeling both amazed and shocked. Hence, Bethany decided to fill it with her witty remark.

"Wow. I never knew you can speak that long, Wonu-ya. That's a very suprising fact about you that I've learn today. Maybe we can give you some more brain exercise for you to think rather than letting your brain to rot with all those games that you played."

Loud laughter erupted throughout the house and Wonwoo just smile shyly while eating his soup.

"Well, Wonu does have a point there. But no worries. I'll help you investigate this matter while you're resting, love. I might also deliver Seungcheol hyung a punch or two as an early payment." Another laughter erupted and it's caused by Mingyu this time.

After some movie marathon and a few bowl of popcorn, you all decided to retire for the night and retreat to Mingyu's guest room upstairs.

"Have you inform your parents about your upcoming departure?" Beth cuddles you on the bed.

"Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. I guess they'll be cool about it, right?" Your parents is not strict, but they do appreciate it if you and your brother update them about your life every now and then. They did sent their own men to guard you from afar but, hearing from you personally is much better.

"I'm so proud of you, Y/N. Seungcheol has been comfortable long enough that he forgot to cherish you the way you should be. For now, just focus on your own healing and let the past stays in the past. The truth will come out eventually and all we have to do now is to wait." Bethany stroke your hair gently and soon you both slowly drift into your own dreamland, feeling safe and sound in each others arm.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

That is all for part 3 of I Love You.

I don't know if you like them but feel free to your two cent in the comment so I can improve my future writing🫶

Thank you for reading, my lovelies and we'll see each other in the next chapter!^^

[aceofbooks-creative-anthologies]

Background: Ace was scouted to run the 10K for the Japanese Olympic team. She successfully made it through try-outs and qualifiers, officially making the team. The very next day, she fell. At the hospital, she was told that she'll never be able to compete again.

Ace is still using walking aids (crutches, canes, a wheelchair, etc. depends on what she can manage) when she arrives at Blue Lock. It takes about two months for Chigiri to gain her friendship back before she tells him what happened.

This is that conversation.

TW: vague mention of a suicide attempt & institutionalization

wc: 4056; written in Chigiri's POV

I watch quietly as Barou leaves the canteen with a tray of food for her, again. At least once a day, he's eating quickly and taking a meal to her quarters somewhere in the facility. She tries to eat with us (the old Blue Lock crew and the old U-22 team) for most meals—it usually results in some kind of lecture about the endurance training she's making us endure. But sometimes she has to take them in her room. I've noticed that it typically aligns with whenever she has to trade out her walking aids for something else. Today, she was watching the practice match from her wheelchair.

"Hey, Bachira?" I ask without taking my eyes off the door.

"Hmm?" comes his mumble from further down the table, mouth full of rice.

"You know where Bl—Coach Kyori's quarters are, right?"

"Yef," he swallows and takes a sip of water before smirking, "but I'm not telling you." His tone is teasing. I know that—it's just how Bachira is. But it doesn't make it any less irritating.

"What do you want?" It's absurd that I even have to ask him for this.

"I want Ace to be happy, of course!" I give him a glance out of the corner of my eye. His voice is cheery, but his face is serious. "And I'm not sure that you can do that for her yet." He takes another bite; everyone else at the table has gone silent. "You don't know what she's been through. Ego would probably kick you from the program if you caused a setback for her."

"What do you know?!" I slam my hands on the table as I stand up, knocking my chair over. "I was her friend for twelve years! You've known her for barely eight months! Most of which she wasn't even around for!"

"I know that you shattered her heart." He shrugs. "Repeatedly, in fact. I also know that she opened up to me, and not you, two days after she arrived. I know that—"

"She didn't even speak to me for the first week she was here! And she's only just started talking to Isagi—"

"Leave me out of this." Isagi picks up his food tray and leaves to sit somewhere else. I feel more than see a few others leave as well.

"Like I was saying," Bachira takes another bite of his rice, the picture of casual, "I know that Barou has stepped up to help her without asking a single thing. I know that Ego—"

"Chigiri!" Barou calls; he made it back to the canteen in the few seconds I had my eyes off the door. "She's asking for you." He motions with his head back towards the door, and then starts walking away without waiting for me.

"Don't hurt her." Bachira snarls as one final warning to my back as I leave.

Barou is rounding a corner as I leave the canteen. "Barou! Wait up!" I'm jogging, but he somehow stays just far enough ahead of me that I only see him turn corners as he leads me through a series of corridors. I'm pretty sure we've left the training stratums and entered some other part of the facility.

Finally, he comes to a stop in front of an unmarked door, and I'm able to catch up to him. He knocks gently (Barou can be gentle?) three times, "Hey, it's me. I brought 'im, like you asked." We can just barely hear shuffling on the other side before the door opens.

"Thanks Sho. Hi Red." She's smiling weakly, and putting most of her weight against the door frame. At some point, she changed from her blouse and jeans into the official Blue Lock sweats. Despite everything, it's comforting to see her in such a familiar silhouette. Like the last eight months had never happened.

"I told 'ya to stay on the bed. Ego gave you those buttons for a reason." He side steps her as he walks over the threshold, and then steps behind her, putting his hands on her waist. I rub at my eye as it starts to twitch.

"I know. But you also know that I hate them, and if I can walk a few steps, then I'm going to walk those few steps." She shifts her weight from the door frame and into his hands. It takes me a second to realize that they're both looking at me expectantly.

I step over the threshold and the door slides into place behind me. Barou and Blue start to tenderly walk across the large space; I see that his hands aren't actually touching her now, just ghosting over her sides—a comforting presence of sorts, I suppose. They're whispering, but I'm distracted by the rest of the space. I've only seen bits and pieces of her room at home through photos, but this feels almost sterile in comparison.

There's half a dozen large digital screens grouped together on one wall, all displaying video and photos from various games and training sessions. They all seem to be looping through footage of Raichi at the moment.

There are resistance bands and free hand weights stored carefully in one corner. Along the wall opposite the door is a bed that obviously has an adjustable frame, as it's positioned at about a 110° angle. There's a kitchenette with a small table and two chairs, her uneaten dinner sitting on the counter. There's a door slightly ajar next to it that must lead to a bathroom.

Most of the decor and other furniture are in the greys and blues that are all over Blue Lock. There's a purple quilt bunched up at the bottom of the bed; and a purple beaded curtain hanging in a doorway that has a basket full of folded laundry in front of it.

There's framed photos hanging up around the bed; her medals and trophies are on display on shelves above the footage of Raichi.

There's a kotatsu positioned in front of the screens, every inch of it covered in stacks of books.

And then there's the armchair awkwardly positioned slightly off center in the room—angled so that it gives an unobstructed view of the screens, but also an unobstructed path to the bathroom. Which Barou is currently fussing over, fluffing cushions with one hand and keeping Blue balanced with the other. My hands itch as I think about taking his place; but as I open my mouth to offer help, he's guiding her to sit. Neither of us miss the way she winces.

He makes a tutting noise before busying himself with warming her dinner. He gives me and one of the kitchen chairs pointed looks when he realizes that I still haven't moved more than three steps into the room.

I move almost robotically, feeling disconnected from my limbs, but I do manage to take one of the kitchen chairs and carry it closer to the armchair. I'm still standing behind it when he brings the now hot food and a bottle of water to her and sets them on the stand next to the armchair.

"Thank you Sho." Her smile is stronger, brighter this time.

"Yeah, whatever." He ruffles her hair before leaning down and pressing a ghost of a kiss to the crown of her head. He turns to me, "Do you think you can find your way back to the English dorms on your own? Or do I need to stick around and walk you back."

"Sho, don't be rude."

Barou crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at me expectantly. It takes me far longer than it should have to find my voice. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay on my own. Thanks though." I clear my throat as he glares at me for just a few seconds longer.

And then he makes his way to the door. "I'll pick you up for breakfast, Ace. Try not to be asleep this time," is the last thing he says before opening the door and leaving.

Blue moves the food around her plate for a few minutes, only taking half a dozen small bites. Finally, she sighs, and sets down her chopsticks. "Are you going to sit, or are you going to keep staring at me from above?" Her speaking directly to me restarts my brain.

"Sorry," I step around to the front of the chair and sit as instructed. "I just don't think I've ever seen you so...."

"Broken? Yeah, it's new for me, too." I'm looking in her face for a spark of laughter, or a flicker of irritation. But there's nothing there. She won't meet my gaze—she's watching Raichi on the screens.

"I don't know—"

"Where do you want me to start?" she interrupts like she normally does, but there's no bite to it. She shifts in her seat, wincing with each movement.

There are so many things that I want to ask. "Is this my fault? Is that why you weren't talking to me?"

She barks out a laugh. "Maybe? But I'm going to lean towards 'no'. You have no control over the weather. As for why I wasn't talking to you, we both know it has nothing to do with my current physical state."

I nod. "Then what was it?"

She sighs and reaches for her bottle of water, wincing when she settles back in. "I was recruited to join the Olympic team. I actually got the 'we're interested' email the night you told me about Blue Lock. So when you left, after everything, I poured everything I had into training and getting ready for try-outs. I wanted to tell you—both times I came to the visitor days. But I didn't know how, and you weren't exactly making it easy. And when I found out you weren't running, I was mad. I had asked you to do one thing—"

"Wait. Back up. You were recruited for the Olympics? I didn't even know you were interested. How did I miss that?"

"It's been my dream since I was six." I have a sudden flash of a memory, six-year-old Blue walking up to me at the park after I had just run my heart out.

"You seem fast. How do you feel about racing an Olympian?" Her t-shirt is the same color as her eyes, which are the same brilliant blue as the sky. "There's.... no.... way.... you're.... an.... Olympian!" I'm doubled over, and each word comes out with its own breath. "Maybe not yet! But I will be!" She stomps her foot with her declaration, and her sneakers light up the same color as her eyes. "Fine.... Blue. As long as you're okay with racing against the world's best soccer striker!" "I don't know what that is, but you're on....." She pauses for a moment, her pointer finger on her chin as she considers my appearance. "Red! Ready?" I nod. "Set? Go!" She takes off before I even realize that she's said 'Go'. The race ends in a tie, despite there being no clearly defined 'finish' line. We agree to meet up the next day to break the tie.

"I mean, I remember you saying that when we first met. But you stopped bringing it up, so I thought it was just—"

"A passing fancy? No. I stopped talking about it when you got hurt. I didn't want to rub it in your face that my trainer thought I had potential, had a real chance at my dreams, when yours had been so abruptly shattered." Her lower lip wobbles, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe away unshed tears. Great. Bachira is going to kill me.

"Blue, I'm so sorry. If I had known—"

"That was the thing, though, I didn't want you to know. I mean, I did. Of course, I did. But you were so fragile. I had to spend five minutes at the park gates every time just convincing you to walk with me. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to lose you. I mean, we had just started talking, y'know? We were just starting to become actual friends. And then the further from your accident that we got, the harder it became to admit the truth, so I just didn't. But if you knew that you were actively keeping me from my dreams, would you have stuck around?"

I can feel heat rising in my cheeks. The truth of what she is saying hits me, a little too hard. "We were fifteen....."

"Yeah, I know. And that's why I kept it a secret." She leans forward and picks up her chopsticks, and takes a few small bites of food that has to be lukewarm at best. "Anyway, I've had to process a lot of grief around all of this in a very short amount of time, which is why I'm able to separate myself from it some."

My eyes rake over her, taking in all of the changes that I've missed over the six months we were apart. She's thinner, and a lot of her muscle definition is gone. The circles under her eyes were always dark against her so-pale-I-can't-be-in-the-sun-without-100-SPF skin, but now they look like she was punched in the face. But the biggest change, "When did you cut your hair?"

She uses her empty hand to brush it out of her face, just barely long enough to tuck it behind her ear. She bites her lip, literally chewing over her thoughts. "It was about a week after my accident. So about a month and a half after you left. I, uh...." She clears her throat and shifts her gaze from her food to Raichi on the screens. "His stride is still too long..... Where's the....? Shit." She's twisting back and forth, reaching under the cushions and pillows.

"What are you loo—"

"The remote! The fucking remote! I need to—" In a flourish, she's standing up and pushing the side tray out of the way. "I need to slow the footage down so I can figure out how much he needs to shorten his stride by, and then I need to recalculate—" She has pushed all of the books off of the closest side of the kotatsu, and is on her hands and knees reaching underneath it.

"Blue...." I've never seen this side of her. She's always so calm, collected, composed. She doesn't seem to hear me. As she's beginning to clear the further side of the kotatsu, I look around for anything that could remotely be what she's looking for. And I see it on the floor underneath my chair. "Blue. I think I found it."

"All these fucking screens. Fucking Ego can't just give me a fucking tablet or some shit? I swear to god he's just trying to make me mad." Under the kotatsu again.

"Blue," I stand up and grab the remote.

"Practically none of them know how to run in a sustainable way. I sent Ego plans for three months before I got here and there has been essentially no improvement. Was nobody doing the work? I can't believe—"

I move in front of her and get down on my knees. "Blue."

"Look, if you're not going to help, can you at least get out of my—"

"Blue!" I shout, grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. There are tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth hangs open, stuck mid-word. I move my hands to gently cup her face. "I found the remote." Her breathing sounds erratic. "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. I found the remote. Just take a breath. You're always so good at breathing. What—what was the technique your trainer had you using after a run?"

At the mention of her trainer, she begins to sob. "I—I—I'm—"

"Shhh.... It's okay. Just.... Just come here, okay?" I gently negotiate us so that I'm holding her, her head tucked under my chin. I use the remote to turn the screens off; it takes me far too many tries to find the right button.

We must sit there for fifteen, twenty minutes before her breathing evens out. I'm frozen in place as she starts to shift. "I'm sorry. I'll just—Fuck." She's furiously trying to dry her face with the back of her hands, and then the bottom of her sweatshirt. She stumbles to her feet. "Shit. Where did Sho put my meds?" She doubles over and uses the back of my chair to support her weight. "Shit. This stupid fucking body—" I scramble to my feet and step behind her, like I saw Barou do earlier. She flinches when my hands touch her waist.

"Sorry! I can—" I move to step back.

"No. Please. Can you—can you just help me get to the bed." I nod, not realizing that she can't see me. "I can make the actual steps, I just need you to make sure that my back stays straight, and that I don't tip over."

"Okay.... But you need to stand up for me to make sure your back stays straight."

"Right.... Okay." She takes three deep breaths and rights herself. "Fuck. Damn it. Okay, quickly and carefully, please."

It's only five strides or so to the bed. I could do it in seconds on my own. But it takes us a solid minute to shuffle across the floor. "How do we get you into the bed?"

"When it's this bad, Sho usually picks me up and—" I have an arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees before she can finish speaking. She lets out a squeak and clasps her hands around my neck. My face heats up as I gently deposit her on the bed and adjust the pillows behind her. She lets out a sigh as she settles back into them.

"Oh hey! There they are!" She's reaching for one of several pill bottles on the shelf that runs along the wall. "Can you grab me the bottle of water from the armchair?" I nod and will myself to calm down as I turn around. My hand closes around the water bottle, and I notice that it's lukewarm now. I wonder if she has another in the fridge in the kitchen—

"I tried to kill myself." The bottle of water slips out of my hand. "Pl—Please. Please, don't turn around. I can't have you look at me right now." I pick up the water off the floor, but I do as she has asked and don't turn around.

"I slipped and fell. It was the day after—the fucking day after—I got accepted on to the Olympic team. I had gotten the call the day before, but the formal letter was in the mailbox. I had waited all morning by the door for our mailman to come by, and as soon as he moved onto my neighbor's, I was out the door. I jumped off the porch to try and get there just that much faster. I missed the black ice on the walkway. I thought I was paralyzed, I was in so much pain. But of course, because I was in pain, I obviously wasn't paralyzed. But I came down with enough force at just the right angle, that I did mess up my back and pelvis and hips pretty badly—nothing broke, and I'm told all the time I should be thankful for that. The minutiae of it all doesn't really matter, just that I'll never be able to compete. I might be lucky if I can run again at all. I—I tried to kill myself in the hospital over the news. So I was committed to the psych ward, and they decided that I was enough of a risk to myself that my ha—my hair—" I hear her sob, and it shatters my heart. But I don't turn around. She asked me not to.

"They cut off my hair, so I couldn't hurt myself with it." She lets out a shakey, watery laugh next. "And then Ego found me. The suicidal-recently-forced-into-retirement Japanese Olympian, who ran a ten-thousand meter race, with an averaged three-minutes-and-ten-seconds per kilometer pace. 'Obviously she has great stamina and endurance! And she's probably desperate enough to get out of the hospital that I won't have to pay her professional athlete rates! The perfect solution to my ongoing problems!'" Her attempts at mimicking Ego are very unflattering on his behalf. It takes every ounce of my willpower to not laugh, because it's not the time.

"But he promised to give my life purpose again." She pauses to blow her nose. It's wet and phelgmy.

"And here I am." I can't see her, but I know her well enough to at least know that there's a defeated shrug following that particular statement. "Trapped in a state-of-the-art facility, receiving six different types of physical manipulations and therapies, some of them multiple times a day. I'm taking four different pills for the pain, three for the anxiety and depression, and I have to drink eight of those nasty electrolyte-protein-vitamin-supplement drinks you guys get after matches. Every. Day. I have video calls with a therapist twice a week, and a psychiatrist once every two weeks. I have good days when I feel like I can take over the world, but the bad days outnumber them something like three to one. And the bad days are never consistent; some are better than others, and then some make me want to die to end the pain. And I—" Another sob. I'm crushing the water bottle in my hand.

"I'm having to train a bunch of idiotic athletes the basic principles of running so that they don't run out of stamina in the middle of a fucking game. Something I never had problems with, but it doesn't fucking matter because I'll never run again. I mean, HOW stupid do they have to—"

"I ran out of stamina." I finally turn around to look at her. There's a pile of tissues on the bed, and her eyes are blood shot, nose bright red.

"What?" The look of bewilderment in her eyes is something I haven't seen in a long time. And it's beautiful. She's beautiful.

"I'm one of your idiots. I ran out of stamina during our game against the U-22 guys; I had to be subbed out. I was devastated. I—" My breath gets caught in my throat. "I'm the one that asked Ego to get us an endurance coach. But if I had known that it was you that he was going to bring on—"

"You would have told him no?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying." I set the water bottle down, and then take the five strides to her bedside, take her hand in one of mine, and use my other to cup her face again, my thumb stroking her cheek. She places her other hand over mine, and then leans into my hand, and it's nice. Really nice. "What I'm saying is, that—that if I knew that it was you that he was going to bring on, I would've asked for an endurance coach a lot sooner."

That earns me a giggle. And then a chuckle. And finally, finally, a full laugh. "If you had just been running with me all this time, you wouldn't need me as an endurance coach."

"Yeah, well," her laughter has me grinning, "it's a nice-added benefit that I get to have my best friend here. It was getting really dull without having you around."

"You missed me that much, huh?"

"If I say yes, can we drop the subject and leave my pride intact?"

"I'll think about it." She winks at me and sticks out her tongue. Something she had to have picked up from Bachira over the last two months of them hanging out.

"Yeah.... I missed you." I finally abandon the last of my pride and sit on the bed to pull her into a hug. She relaxes into me before hugging me back, and I curse myself for not trying this sooner. Twelve years of friendship. And I could've been hugging her this whole time. Maybe even kis—

"Hey Red?" Her voice is muffled against my collarbone.

"Hm?"

"Can I get that water now? I could really use one of my pain meds."

[bangtan-in-black]

Fruits of my labour // chapter 3

“Eomma, you're squeezing too tight.” Douhyun moans, trying to release himself desperately from his mothers grasp.

“I am sorry baby but eomma needs to protect you.” You can't help yourself but to squeeze him tighter.

“It’s too tight, just a little looser please” Douhyun asks.

“Ok baby, I am sorry.” you let him go slightly but keep him close to you.

“Can you please be quiet? I'm trying to sleep.” Yerum moans grumpily.

“Do you miss him hyung?” Douhyun whispers, looking at his brother's back moving along with his breathing.

“Of course I do. Douhyun, what kind of question is that?” Yerums breathing speeds up. His tone shakes slightly. You could tell he was close to crying.

“We all do baby, that's why you're sleeping in eomma’s bed tonight, so you don't feel so alone.” You don't want to tell him the real reason why you're keeping him so close, that what happened to his brother could happen to him. You needed to keep your boys close to you, you werent gonna lose them as well.

You weren't going to sleep anyway, how could anyone sleep in the situation you were currently in?

“Taehyung, I see you’ve brought a guest. How’re you doing, little guy?” The man asks, smiling at the shy child who grabs his fathers coat and hides behind his back.

“Hyungsik, this is Hoseok, Hoseok is daddy’s husband. You know what that is?” Taehyung peeks at the little boy who looks up back at his father and nods.

“You know Jimin and Yoongi are not going to be happy about this don’t you?” Hoseok glances up at Tae before turning his attention back to Hyungsik who was still hiding behind the comfort of his father.

“To be honest, Hyung, that is the least of my worries, I need to get my little man to sleep. We've had quite the day haven't we son?”

“I had so much fun appa! I loved it so much.”

“I'll talk to Yoongi and Jimin in a bit, just let me put my son down for the night.” Taehyung practically pleads with his husband.

“Very well, but please don't let it be known that I knew about this. You know what it's like when those two get angry.” Hoseok jokes earning a light chuckle from Taehyung.

“You'll be in the room though, nevermind this little guy it's nearly Jinnie’s bedtime, you know the rules.”

“Once Jinnie is tired we are all tired.” The two men synchronise, ending their conversation with a peck on the lips, Taehyung and Hyungsik head off to put Hyungsik to bed.

“Appa?” Hyungsik’s small voice calls from under the sheets.

“What is it, my son?” Taehyung, who was just about to leave before his son called out for him, sat next to Hyungsik on the massive king sized bed.

“I really enjoyed today but shouldn't I be going home? Eomma will miss me otherwise.”

Taehyung nods thoughtfully at his son, Hyungsiks words pulling on his heart strings, but he can't bring himself to tell his son the truth, that his eomma couldn't look after him like his appa could. Taehyung had more money, and more time to make sure his son had everything he needed.

So he lied.

“Actually baby, eomma said you should stay with me for awhile, how does that sound?” Taehyung questions while stroking his son's hair.

“It sounds good appa,” Hyungsik says, yawning half way through his sentence.

“You get some rest my son, I promise there's another fun day ahead tomorrow.”

Just as Taehyung got up to leave, Hyungsik asked him another question.

“What about my hyungs? Why aren't they here spending time with us as well?”

Taehyung could have sworn he heard his heart shatter into 3 million pieces.

“Well son, if your brothers were here with us as well, eomma would be lonely right?” Taehyung treads carefully, he was unsure if what he was saying was the right thing to ease the little boy's curiosity.

“Yeah, you're right appa, goodnight appa. I love you”

And just like that, the 3 million pieces of his heart were back together again and Taehyung felt like he was walking on clouds.

Never before had he felt this type of euphoria. It came close when he married the loves of his life but not quite, this was stronger. The happiest he's ever been, he's sure of it.

“I love you too son, sleep tight. What would you like for breakfast in the morning?” Taehyung catches himself asking.

Hyungsik was half asleep, Taehyung wanted to laugh. If he didn't have the DNA results he would've thought he'd picked up Yoongi hyungs kid by mistake.

Taehyung turns to leave but before he does he hears a gentle “Bacon n’ eggs please appa.”

But even with his half asleep quiet voice,Taehyung heard. “Ok son, i'll ask Seokjin to make it the best ever for you.”

Taehyung didn't get a response after that.

He smiled at his son one last time before quietly shutting his door and heading to the top floor of the manor where his and his husbands bedroom was.

“Ahh there he is,” His oldest Hyung sighs in relief whilst checking his watch. “What took you so long? And where were you all day?” If Taehyung didn't know any better he'd say his older husband looked annoyed, but Taehyung did know better. Seokjin was teasing him. He loved to do that to all of them and none of them have ever complained. They love him too much to complain.

But nevertheless he was going to answer Seokjin’s question, it actually gave him a perfect opening. God, he loved his hyung so much.

“Haha very funny,” Taehyung played along, admittedly quite nervous for the reactions of the men in the room, but it was now or never.

“I was spending the day with Hyungsik.” Taehyung responds, waiting for a response from the room.

“Who's Hyungsik again? Is he that really hot bodyguard that keeps checking you out because I swear to god if it's him Kim Taehyung you're going to have a man's blood on your hands.” Jungkook seethed,

“Are you jealous Jungkookie?” Seokjin teases, the oldest teasing the youngest.

“No it's he who needs to be jealous after all, Taehyung is ours. Not some greasy ex trash man.”

“Anyways, would you like to continue Taehyung.” Namjoon says, putting down his book to glance at Taehyung. Once glance and Namjoon knew there was more.

“Hyungsik is my son.”

The room stared at him in silence for a few moments and then both Jimin and Yooongi started shouting at Taehyung.

“What do you mean you were spending time with your son!?” - Jimin

“We had a plan, remember Taehyung?!” - Yoongi

The two continue to yell for a few more seconds before Namjoon shushes them.

“You two need to calm down, although I agree with their sentiment. You knew this was important to them, Taehyung. Why would you go without them?”

Taehyung sighs before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I'm really sorry and I know it was selfish but I couldn't stand the thought of my son out there without me being in his life. I am willing to do anything to make it up to you, I'll even sleep in the guest room and I'll rewrite the whole plan. But please, know that I am sorry but I did what needed to be done. You should've seen the state of the woman he was left with while his mother went out for ice cream. Your boys are safe for now I promise and they'll be safe until we go to collect them.”

“When will we collect them?” Hoseok asks

“Tonight.” says Jin, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yoongi, Jimin, you'll meet your sons tonight.”

[sisislair]

Baldur's gate 3's premise truly is just the perfect crossover machine lol. Thinking about Xie Lian getting picked up by the nautoloid, but not sure if it should be post canon or a little bit after he ascends. Leaning more towards it being either right before or after the Banyue arc. Still can't decide if I want Hua Cheng to get grabbed along with him, but I'm thinking yes.

Honestly this was spawned because I was thinking about both Astarion's and Xie Lian's respective times being trapped in coffins, and that I think Xie Lian would absolutely have saved him if he could have heard him. But you know, banished.

I think Wyll would remind Xie Lian a lot of his younger self, which we've seen is always very conflicting for Xie Lian. He might try to protect him a bit.

Xie Lian is one of the first in line to hug Karlach after her engine is fixed, and I could see some hurt/comfort happening if she got hurt and he tended her wounds despite it burning him because of his usual, "it's not like I'll die" mentality. I think they'd get along very well honestly, they both have a similar, I'd rather think about the good things in my life than dwell on my suffering way of going about things.

I think he would find Gale's knowledge entertaining, and I also think he would have some very poor opinions of mustard, especially after the whole, blow yourself up for me deal. Gale tries to teach Xie Lian how to cook something edible with varying degrees of success. I think he's the first one to figure out who Xie Lian is as well as his godhood status due to his education and designs with Mystra.

Actually really intrigued by Hua Cheng interacting with both Gale, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel given all of their differing gods and how they devote themselves to them.

Honestly just conflicting feelings all around once Xie Lian's godhood is revealed and we start having interactions with some of the gods in Faerun.

I think Raphael is the one who reveals his godhood to the group, although Withers definitely gives out some hints.(Finding Withers alivish in the sarcophagus was a little traumatic for Xie Lian) but yeah, basically when the run into Raphael at the last light he makes some digs about how Xie Lian might as well be thrice ascended and banished due to his current state with the mindflayer parasite, and that no wonder he's the laughingstock of all the realms. He also tries to make a deal by saying he could possibly get rid of Xie Lian's shackles, but he doesn't take him up on it. This does, however, lead to some pretty interesting conversations in the group.

My brain is trying to cook up some polyamory in the background right now lol. Could really only see these ships below happening if it was post canon with already established Hualian.

Astarion x Xie Lian x Hua Cheng - We know that Xie Lian really enjoys biting commentary, so I could see him enjoying Astarion's sense of humor, especially enjoying the show of Astarion and Hua Cheng trading barbs with each other. I think he would be very flustered and startled by the flirting, and Hua Cheng would be very pissy about it. Some serious drinking vinegar. I don't see sex happening unless it was much later in the relationship, what with Xie Lian at the very least being demisexual. And I think it would be nice for Astarion to have a relationship with no sex at the start. Just quiet intimacy. Xie Lian at first and then Hua Cheng later on both treating him so tenderly. It's part of what breaks my heart about Hualian, and I think it would shatter Astarion a bit too. To be treated softly. Could see a big breakdown scene happening after Xie Lian's godhood is revealed where he cries and screams a bit about why how none of the gods answered his prayers, and Xie Lian holding him while telling him that if he had been able to hear him, he would have saved him. The grave sex scene between the three of them is very exquisite and heartbreaking, the dead, the undead, and the undying intertwined.

Gale x Xie Lian x Hua cheng - like I said above I think Xie Lian would think Gale's info dumping and dry wit very entertaining, and I think he would like to listen to him talk. I think Hua Cheng and Gale would have fun debating and theorizing about things together. Gale and Xie Lian would definitely bond over cooking and their love for their moms. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng both feel like Gale's relationship is none of their business, right up until she tells him to go kill himself. Because while Hua Cheng would do that for Xie Lian, he knows that Xie Lian would (a) never ask him that, and (b) he put that power into Xie Lian's hands on purpose. Was Gale arrogant? Sure. They both see Mystra cutting off the relationship as a complicated personal issue, but her asking him to blow himself up after suppressing the orb, something she could apparently have done all this time but chose not to until it conveniently fit her needs? Their both pretty upset about it. Cue them trying to convince Gale of his own self-worth. Something they both have experience in lol. Gale is very hesitant when the relationship starts due to his previous troubles with Mystra, but Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have always returned devotion tenfold. If they ever have sex Gale is very much thinking it's going to be more astral projection stuff. Imagine then how shocked and touched he is that they would want to interact with his mortal body in the flesh, and find worship there.

Karlach x Xie Lian x Hua Cheng - Honestly see this as being more platonic than romantic, but I think that the three of them would get along pretty well. A lot of casual intimacy once the engine is fixed, and her bad end can totally be avoided because there is not a single one of these ships where Xie Lian doesn't at the very least offer to bring his and Hua Cheng's lover up to the middle court of heaven and beyond. Karlach is both very positive, but also has enough of a darker sense of humor to get along with Xie Lian and Hua Cheng.

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 4x19 Shattered Mirror thoughts (I’m re-watching, so beware spoilers for future episodes!) [12 July ‘23]

"Enjoying the view?" "I'm stuck on this new story I'm working on, and coming here helps me focus." "No need to explain, Mister Sisko." Jake is so used to being told off by you, Odo! Aww, but I love how it shows how he's growing up, and other characters see that. :3

"I never chased you away. I chased Nog." So prejudicial, Odo! Jake wasn't exactly a goody-two-shoes

Quark eavesdropping on the conversation and feeling the need to interrupt XD

"Poor kid. I suppose that's what you get for having friends." I shake my head at you, Quark.

The pain in Jake's face upon seeing Jennifer! He's such a good actor.

"You even sound like my mother!" He's so delighted! My heart! 💔

"Maybe the three of us can have dinner together." The SUBTERFUGE, Jennifer!

But the way Sisko just left Jake with her? He can't not trust her, even though she's not his Jennifer.

Kira volunteering to go with him :3 Love herrr

Oh! They didn't get through!

"She likes you." You like Kasidy, Jake! Have you forgotten about how happy your dad is with her?! (Aw bless you really, I'm sure this is super difficult.)

"Bow before the regent!" "I can't think of anything I'd rather do." This Garak has the exact same sarcasm as ours XD

"Believe me, my Regent, it will take the blood of many rebels to quench the thirst of my revenge." "Spoken like a Klingon." "I'm trying." It's strange hearing Garak be forthright!

Mirror!Julian is the weirdest. He's so different.

"If this is supposed to teach me a lesson you might want to turn that little toy of yours to a higher setting." There is definitely a good amount of our Kira in mirror!Kira

Why hasn't Sisko told Jake the truth about what's going on here? Jake would hate to know he's hurting his father by fawning over Jennifer like this.

"What a perverse idea!" Ah yes, you've got her - mirror!Kira will definitely help you, she loves this sort of game.

Garak being accused of stealing the key and then - "The key, sir. Somehow it fell into my boot." - Oh my goodness, that's so tonally different?! Funny, but unexpected -- wild 😂

"So, if it's all right with you, I will see to it that he is sent back to Deep Space Nine." But I know what happens, I'm sure he doesn't get there...

I was expecting Nog to be the informant, somehow

Sisko going to leave, and then stopping and rolling his eyes. He's in far too deep now to turn his back on them.

Killing Jennifer - that was so unnecessary! The Intendant even just left Jake there rather than kidnapping him to ensure her safety?

"We've won!" "You sound surprised." Love how Sisko is always so cool.

Mirror!Worf saying "Make it so" is so weird, right?

Oh, it's not fair Sisko has to watch her die twice, and it's also not fair she had to die in this universe just to make Jake and Ben sad. Gahhh!

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 05 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2296 | ao3 link

He planted a soft kiss on the palm of my hand, holding it gently but firmly. I couldn't help but notice that he always treated me that way— as if I could shatter at the slightest touch. Maybe that's why I felt safer with him every day. He understood me, no judgment. I saw a side of him that others seemed not to notice. It felt like a fair trade to me.

✦ on this chapter: oc is cliff's cousin, +18, slice of life, romance, fluff, drinking, sexually inexperienced oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, kissing (a lot), found family vibes

✧ fade into you, strange you never knew ✧

I took a deep breath, savoring the aroma of freshly made popcorn that filled the kitchen, a mix of satisfaction and mild boredom washing over me. It was one of those rainy Sunday nights and for the first time ever since I moved I found myself home alone. Cliff and the guys had headed out to another show, and I knew they'd end up hitting a bar afterwards. But since I had a job starting the next day, I decided to play it responsible for once. So, here I was, winding down the weekend with a bowl of popcorn and a stack of movie tapes that Cliff had lent me. I tried my best to ignore the nagging feeling that I'd much rather be out there having fun with Cliff, Lars, James, and Dave.

With the popcorn bucket in hand, I plopped onto the couch in the living room. I glanced at the small pile of movies, contemplating which one to indulge in for the night. A frown crept onto my face as I noticed that most of them fell into the horror genre: The Shining, Night of the Living Dead, Black Cat. It seemed Cliff's taste in movies still leaned towards spooky. I couldn't help but wonder if it was a wise choice to dive into those on a quiet Sunday night, all by myself at home.

I pondered over whether I should opt for the less scary looking cover or just give up altogether and tune into a mindless game show when I heard a knock at the door. A tiny yelp escaped my lips, followed by an immediate blush. Seriously, getting scared while watching horror movies is one thing, but getting spooked before even choosing one? What a dummy.

I got up and made my way to the door, opening it to show Dave standing there, drenched from the rain and looking slightly drunk. I let out a small exclamation of surprise as he strode into the room with big steps, cupping my face in his hands and planting a passionate kiss on my lips. Well, talk about unexpected. The taste of beer lingered as he pulled me closer, his arms holding me firmly.

"Dave," I chuckled, a bit taken aback, against his lips, "what are you doing here? I thought you were heading to the bar with everyone after the concert."

"Nah, it was too boring there without you," he grumbled, easing back a bit and flashing a smile as his thumb traced along my lower lip. I blushed, my heart fluttering like crazy, just like it always did when he got this close. "We've been kinda distant lately, haven't we? You avoiding me or something?"

"No way," I replied, hesitating for a moment before adding, "I'd never avoid you."

But truth be told, he had a point. Over the past few days, our paths hadn't crossed as frequently as before. Part of it was because he took up a side gig at a local mechanic shop to help with the bills. Between band rehearsals, gigs, and the hustle of daily life, there was barely any time left for us to be together.

I realized I had missed that, though — just chilling with him, sharing a beer and a smoke in conversations that inevitably ended in kisses. Ever since he had first kissed me, it had been near impossible to not find myself wrapped up in his embrace whenever we were together.

"Well," he said, breaking the kiss for just a moment before kissing me again. I let out a contented sigh as he pulled me closer, his lips leisurely exploring mine. "I wanted some alone time with you, but the others were always lingering around. So this time, I left them there and came to see you. But if you want me to go..."

I couldn't ignore the happiness bubbling up inside me. I was starting to feel like I could resist him less and less each time we were together. Not that I was trying, anyway.

"No, stay," I whispered, locking eyes with his warm brown gaze. He smiled softly and placed his hand on my cheek, planting gentle kisses on my lips, then my cheek, then my neck.

"Wanna go to my room?" he whispered, his lips grazing my skin. I nodded, and he smiled as he took my hand, leading me upstairs.

He didn't even bother flicking on the lights as he closed the door, pulling me closer to his body. He kissed me again, fiercely, passionately, his lips meeting mine with a raw hunger that caught me off guard. A soft moan escaped my lips as his hand firmly gripped my butt, his teeth leaving marks on the skin of my neck. My heart raced, taken aback by his newfound intensity; he had never touched me like this before. It was as if he was desperate to have me in his arms, as if all the kisses we had exchanged so far were nowhere near enough.

He took off his shirt, and I shivered as he laid me down on the bed, the weight of his body on top of mine. His right hand reached for my waist, gripping it tightly as he kissed me. I felt my body heat up more and more. All I wanted was to let him explore my entire body with his eyes, with his hands, with his tongue — but I couldn't do that knowing I was sober and he was drunk, even if just lightly. This isn't right, I thought.

"Dave, you're drunk," I whispered, my hand resting on his chest as I gently nudged him away. He grunted.

"So what?"

"I... I don't know if I'm up for it with you like this," I blushed. "Will you even remember any of this tomorrow?"

He sighed but smiled at me as he lay beside me and pulled me close, his arm draped around my waist.

"And you think I'd forget?" He planted kisses on my shoulder and then my neck. I shivered, using all my strength not to pull him back on top of me right there. "You want it too, don't you?" His grip on my thigh tightened, and he kissed me on the lips once more. "I would never do anything you don’t want to, Nore, but damn... You're gonna drive me crazy like this."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not really knowing what to say. He was right; I wanted it so bad, more than I was ready to admit. It was tough to resist my desires in that moment; if he pushed just a little harder, I wouldn't be able to deny him anything he wanted from me.

But he didn't push; I let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through my hair, planting gentle, tender kisses on my lips.

"Sometimes I forget you've never done shit like this before," he confessed, then kissed my cheek. "I've never felt like this, Nore. And I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to be a jerk. I want to do things the right way."

I softly caressed his face, allowing my fingertips to trace his lips. I was slowly beginning to realize that alcohol, before making him aggressive, made him brutally honest. But that wasn't so bad; I liked this side of him.

He planted a soft kiss on the palm of my hand, holding it gently but firmly. I couldn't help but notice that he always treated me that way—as if I could shatter at the slightest touch. Maybe that's why I felt safer with him every day. He understood me, no judgment. I saw a side of him that others seemed not to notice. It felt like a fair trade to me.

He pulled me closer again, his lips finding their way to my neck.

"I just really wanted to keep kissing you," he whispered, his breath tickling my skin. "Can I?"

Instead of answering, I simply kissed him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he settled on top of me once again. He let out a contented sigh, his tongue gently exploring my mouth, and I melted under his touch. He was everywhere: his body, his hands, his hair, his scent enveloping me completely. In that moment, I wanted him so much that I could barely breathe —  I only wished he felt the same.

I’m not sure I could bear it if he didn’t.

I allowed myself to stay there, in his arms, as he kissed me all over — my lips, my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders, my collarbone. I felt like I could stay there forever, completely surrendered to him. Eventually, we settled down and he pulled me close, allowing me to rest my head on his chest as he gently stroked my hair and my face.

"How was your day?" I finally broke the silence. He chuckled softly.

"Pretty dull, to be honest. But hey, at least I made some cash. And drank beer. Oh, and," I could hear the smile in his voice as he talked, " I hung out with this amazing girl who happens to be a friend's cousin, " I couldn’t help but giggle softly upon hearing that, lifting my head to meet his gaze. He smiled at me.

"And what about yours?"

"It was good. Didn't really do much , but James tried to teach me how to play the guitar."

He furrowed his brow slightly at my words.

"Don't you think you've been spending too much time with James?" he asked, his voice tinged with a touch of jealousy. I blinked in surprise. "I can teach you, you know. I'm a better player than him anyway," he added, sounding a bit cocky. I burst into laughter.

"Dave, you were busy. I didn't want to bother," I replied. He huffed.

"You're never a bother. Besides, I enjoy hanging out with you," he kissed my forehead. "We've got rehearsal tomorrow, but if you want, I can teach you some songs afterward."

"Sounds good," I smiled. The idea of spending even a little time with him excited me.

I stayed there, lying in his embrace, as we continued talking in hushed voices. At some point, the rain grew stronger. I knew it was a bit chilly, but having Dave's body against mine provided enough warmth. It was so cozy and comfortable that I thought I could stay there forever. I yawned, feeling sleep starting to take over, but I didn't have the strength or desire to get up and go to my own room. Instead, I simply closed my eyes and drifted off, feeling safe in his arms for the first time.

The next day, I woke up in Cliff's bed. I looked around, a bit confused. I was all by myself in the room, and I couldn't remember how I ended up there. I wondered if Dave had carried me there after I fell asleep, and my cheeks turned slightly red. I got up and closed the bedroom door to change before heading out to the living room, where Lars and Cliff were chilling on the couch, talking to each other.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," Cliff greeted sarcastically, extending his arm toward me. I took his hand, and he planted a kiss on it, grinning at me. "You sure know how to get your beauty rest for someone who decided to lay low on a Sunday night, don't you think?"

"Good morning to you too, Cliff," I replied with a smile. Well, at least he seemed oblivious to the fact that I had crashed in Dave's arms last night. I could only imagine the teasing I'd get if he found out; I guess I owed Dave one in the end.

"Cliff whipped up some eggs and bacon. They're in the kitchen if you're up for it," Lars chimed in.

"Sweet! Thanks," I replied, making my way to the kitchen.

I was helping myself to breakfast when I heard the front door swing open. I looked up and spotted James and Dave strolling in, each carrying bags of beers and a bottle of vodka.

"Good morning," Dave greeted, sidling up to the kitchen counter, wrapping his arm around my waist, and planting a sweet kiss on my forehead. I couldn't help but smile.

James put the beer bags onto the counter and grabbed a couple bottles. He handed one over to me with a grin.

"Breakfast is served," he said ceremoniously, and I let out a soft chuckle. Beer for breakfast had become a running joke among the three of us after I noticed how they always had one after waking up. He passed another beer to Dave, taking a few more for himself, Cliff, and Lars. Dave cracked open his beer, taking a sip before setting the bottle on the counter. He cupped my chin in his hand and kissed me gently on the lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, and I nodded. He smirked playfully and leaned in close to my ear, whispering, "If you ever want to pick up where we left off yesterday, just give me a heads up, alright?"

"Dave!" I giggled shyly. He chuckled along and took another sip of his beer.

"Come on, let's go join the others."

I grabbed my beer and the plate of breakfast, following him back to the living room where we all gathered. James picked up his guitar and started strumming some tunes, occasionally bouncing ideas off the others while I sat between Cliff and Dave, listening intently. After a month of living together, these moments of easy camaraderie among the five of us had become more frequent, and I felt genuinely happy there, like I had rarely felt before.

[ur-boyfiend]

anything you say can and will be held against you (so only say my name)

< changlix ! >

< i'm honestly not rlly sure how to describe this one ?? def angst + hurt / comfort but it's just aftermath ? if that makes sense lol. implied + mentioned argument , brief vague mention of injury, brief vague mention of bullying + implied physical violence. >

< also hi it's like 02:30 and this was written in one sitting and not proofread so if you see any errors please lemme know :,) sometimes when i know what something's supposed to say i just read over a typo so another set of eyes is always nice ^^; >

changbin reaches up as if to touch felix, but flinches and drops his hand before they can actually make contact. it's not until he's dropped his hand again that felix realizes how badly he needs changbin's touch.

he pauses, making a decision, hoping it's not one he'll regret.

"you didn't mean to hurt me, right?"

changbin's head snaps up, and felix can immediately see fear and sadness dancing in his eyes.

his voice is rough as he answers, "i would never hurt you on purpose."

felix nods. it's the answer he'd expected to hear. scooting over to make room on the bed, he pats the mattress next to him. changbin's brows furrow, but he doesn't move.

felix offers a small smile, "c'mon, i dunno if you wanna sit on the floor all day but i sure wouldn't."

after a moment changbin cautiously moves to sit next to felix, it's almost painfully obvious how much he's trying to keep his distance. felix sighs and moves closer, feeling changbin tense up as the freckled boy curls into his side.

"i forgive you, y'know."

"why? you shouldn't."

"you said you didn't hurt me on purpose, i don't wanna hold that against you."

"i still hurt you though lix, i still did something i promised i wouldn't."

"bin, neither one of us was in a good place. we shouldn't have been having that conversation anyway."

"still-"

"no, stop killing yourself over this. it wasn't something you planned to do, it doesn't seem like something you even really chose to do. you were panicked and hurt and acted impulsively, it's not like i'm blameless. i'd hurt you too."

changbin sighs slightly, he knew felix was right but still felt like he shouldn't be so easily forgiven.

as though felix can read his mind, he gently bonks changbin on the back of the head, "this is the first time we've had this happen, it's not like you hurt me regularly. not to mention all the times you've gotten hurt protecting me."

the end of felix's sentence is mumbled, but changbin can still hear him. he knows felix feels guilty about how often changbin stood up for him in highschool, even though changbin's lost count of how many times he's told felix that it's okay, that he wanted to help.

changbin intertwines his fingers with felix's, lifting their hands to place soft kisses on the fading red marks from where he'd desperately grabbed the younger's wrist. felix giggles at the tickling sensation and changbin smiles slightly, felix's laugh always having that effect.

when changbin looks up again, felix leans in and kisses him quickly, like he doesn't want to shatter the moment they've wrapped themselves in.

reaching up slightly, felix runs his fingers through changbin's hair briefly before wrapping both arms around his boyfriend's shoulders and dragging him to lie down together. changbin huffs slightly as he wraps his arms around felix's waist, the blond curling into his chest.

after sitting up just enough to pull the blanket over both of them, felix flops down onto the mattress and snuggles back into changbin's arms, sighing contentedly.

felix can tell he's starting to fall asleep, but before he can drift off completely he manages to mumble a sleepy, "love you," "i love you too" being the last thing he hears before slipping into his dreams.

[misteria247]

Gab, even worse for a combination of both angst and fluff.

Reincarnated Mikey in Turtles Forever crossover Au

*places a hand over my heart dramatically* Marie my God aren't we living the villain life with the angst possibilities!

This is why you're one of my favorite mutuals shsgsgsgsgshshsg-

Oh let me tell you fam, if Reincarnated Mikey was in a room full of other variants of himself, all of which he's lived their lives. It'd be a downward spiral kind of deal. Seeing so many different Mikey's, all in one room, all of which he knows how their stories end it's absolutely maddening for him. Because he's lived their lives, every single one of them. And he sees how they're naive to the futures that lay before them and it just kills him inside.

In a way Mikey can't help but wonder if it's some kind of sick, cruel joke that's being played on him. It's bad enough that he remembers these lives, that he still carries the memories, emotions and traumas of those lives. But to see them, the living proof that he's existed as one of these orange clad turtles at some point in his very, very long existence, it's like getting a batting ram straight to the face. It cements it, the evidence that the memories he remembers with each new cycle is real. And that the endings of each life were real as well. Before there was a chance that he was just losing his mind, a chance that all the drawings and notes he'd made for the very people standing in front of him weren't really connected to anything. But now that slim chance is gone, the illusion shattered in a heartbeat.

And he doesn't take it very well at all.

Mikey completely keeps his distance for a very, very long time. Refusing to hold a conversation with any of the turtles or rats cuz every time he looks at them it's something like-

"I know what happens to you at the end of the road. I know how you died in each and every life we've shared together, I've watched you all suffer and accumulate scars. Scars that tear you apart mentally, emotionally and physically. And I can't tell you about any of it, because the burden of holding such knowledge could ruin your lives."

Nasty thoughts of this degree as well as pure grief and mourning at knowing that he's basically seeing his brothers and father and friends happy and alive. Completely oblivious to their gruesome or bitter ends. And when he sees turtles like Future Rise Leo and Future Rise Mikey, it fills him with a sense of dread cuz that's a future variation of him. That sometime possibly in his current run he and his brothers could end up in these twos position and that honest to God terrifies him. And seeing Ronin Mikey and the Mutant Apocalypse boys??????

It's like rubbing salt into the wounds that he's carried for decades. He'd also feel a bit bitter at everything, cuz in a way what he's experiencing wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he had to face the faces he'd personally known once and still loved with every fiber of his being, down to his very bones and veins. Hasn't he suffered enough? Hasn't he endured the burden that he carries well enough? What else did the universe want from him he'd already given it everything he could!

As for the others, as soon as they see this other Mikey it becomes painfully clear that he's different from the rest of them. That he holds this heavy atmosphere, that somehow he's older than this 14/15 year old teenager. And it's quite unsettling to say the least.

Eventually everyone would warm up somewhat and get along but there's always gonna be that invisible barrier between them and Reincarnated Mikey.

[papapascal]

Dark Windows (HBO Joel)

It's been a year and a half since I rescued him. Since I found him bleeding out, on the verge of his final breath. Sometimes I dream about it. I know they're flashbacks. His swollen face gashed and bruised. He looked dead upon first glance. I remember him shaking his head as best as he could when I told him that he'd be okay. I don't think he wanted to be okay. I think he wanted to succumb to his injuries.

He's healed now, but scars scatter his old face and mind. He lives with me in a safe town, and far away from where I originally found him. I couldn't risk the people who wanted him dead to find him still alive. He won't tell me why they wanted him dead.

"Joel." He's sitting at the dining table, a bowl of soggy cereal in front of him. He hasn't touched it since I gave it to him thirty minutes ago. He's still wearing the red and black plaid button-up and blue jeans since the other day. He's 'slept' in it for two days. He does this on the occasion. It's the depression. He isn't living. He's just breathing with a beating heart. Simply surviving. "Everything okay?"

His eyes finally but slowly move away from the table but looks me dead in the eyes. There wasn't a single light in those dark, aged eyes. He's seen too much. They're empty.

"Hey," I speak softly as I walk around behind him and rub a gentle hand onto his broad shoulder. He doesn't react. "I know you didn't sleep well last night. Did you maybe want to talk?" My other hand rubs over his other shoulder and then sliding both of my hands down to his chest and interlocking so I was practically hugging him from behind. His head tilted to lean against mine.

I've learned he enjoys physical touch, and that he's also deaf in his right ear, so I speak to him on his left. I've asked him why that is. He tells me an accident, but never goes into detail.

"I'm okay," is all he says.

He doesn't tell me much, just says he's ready for a fresh start. It's hard to believe when he's staring into space and sweating and crying in his sleep from the reoccurring nightmares. His panic attacks grow worse with every week that goes by. Sometimes I'm afraid he's having a heart attack. He's prone to them at his age. I've tried convincing him to meet with the Psychiatrist. He refuses, says he'll handle it. His best way of handling it is not sleeping at all and bottling it up. The exhaustion has only aged him and compromised his immune system.

"You're tired, Joel," I state the obvious. I turn my head and press a kiss against his head. "I think maybe if you talk about it you'll—"

"I said I'm okay!" He cuts me off, his voice strong but bitter. It almost shakes the China cabinet pressed against the wall to our left while I feel it reverberate through my body. "I tell you this everyday!"

"And everyday you don't convince me."

There's a moment of silence. I could practically feel the anger building, and building, ready to burst like a ticking time bomb.

He's ripping my arms away before I could even register what is happening.

"Joel!" I yelp.

He jumps up from his chair. "We've already had this conversation, Y/N, and I'm not having it again!"

I try to reach for his hand in an attempt to calm him but he yanks it away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Maybe if you talk about it—"

"I'm not fucking talking about it!" He swipes the bowl off of the table, sending it flying across the mahogany table and shattering against the wall. I let out a gasp when it shatters. Cereal is sliding down the wall. He grabs the chair he was sat in and violently shoves it into the table. "Especially with you!"

There's a pain in my chest. I couldn't tell whether it was anxiety or actual hurt. "I thought-"

"See, that's your problem!" In the blink of an eye he's in my face. "You do all of this fucking thinking! Just stop! All of it! The thinking and doing! The thinking and assuming!"

I felt minuscule underneath his overbearing shadow of his body in front of me. His jaw tense, fists clenched, and eyes hard as stone. I'm not used to this behavior being directed at me. I just shrink down and stare into his burning eyes.

"I need you to stop!" He's stern, like he means it, and threatening if I don't listen.

I'm unable to speak. I swallow hard but it gets caught up in my throat because now the tears are surfacing. "Joel," I choke out, eyes blinking and my sight becoming blurred.

Joel's hard exterior doesn't soften as he glowers at me. He's in different form. "You need to mind your business! You should've minded it almost two years ago!"

My bottom lip wobbles, but I bite it to stop. I just shake my head. He's just a blob of madness as my tears distorts his face. I'm scared. "D-Don't hurt m-me," I'm able to get out.

The man I no longer recognized stepped away, his facial expression never changing. "They beat me with a fucking golf club, Y/N! Some little girl got her panties in a bunch because I killed her father! I can't even fucking blame her!"

I just stare at him, shaking, while he paces the dining room. I'm stood frozen in my spot. I didn't know what to say or do.

"The same man who tried to take the life of a child to make a vaccine!" He pauses. "A child, Y/N," and his voice weakens as he finishes. He leans forward on the dining table with his hands pressed flat against the surface. "I had a second chance. I wasn't going to lose her like I lost my Sarah! Ellie became my purpose. You know how long I've gone without having a purpose?"

I still haven't moved from my spot. His eyes on me made me feel anxious. The words flowing from his lips made no sense to me, so it only horrified me more than his behavior.

"Too damn long, Y/N." He pushes upright from leaning on the table. "I thought I did right by her, but in reality I just failed again! I cared deeply for that girl, lied to her thinking it was the best thing for her, but little did I know that lie dug my fucking grave!"

Gulping, the hard knot in my throat finally goes down and I'm relieved to finally form words. "You didn't fail." Probably wasn't the best set of words, but they were words and something I genuinely believed.

Joel laughs, but it was nowhere near genuine. It was to mock me. "You can't be fucking serious, right?" He chuckles and shakes his head. "I got my fucking face whacked in and left to die!" He shouts.

I close my eyes because I didn't want to see the anger on his face. The darkness behind my eyelids only allowed the image of his face beaten and bloodied to penetrate my brain. I could almost throw up right now.

"I failed her, Y/N! I was supposed to protect her, but instead I got my ass kicked and all she could do was watch!"

I open my eyes when I hear his voice waver.

There's tears in his eyes, one falling loose down his cheek and dribbling down until it reaches his salt and pepper facial hair.

I force my legs to move and then approach him across the room. My arms open up for him, but he holds a hand out to stop me.

"No!" He barks and even cringes at his own angry voice. "I don't need your comfort or sympathy. You wanted me to talk, so I am." He sighs. "I'm sorry." His voice this time is a lot softer to my surprise. I like it soft.

"Who is Ellie?" Is all I could say. It was probably in my best interest to console him with my words, but the question nagged at me since he said her name.

He seemed hesitant by the way his eyes shifted and his hand subconsciously rubbed at the back of his neck. "She was...my partner. She was handed off to me to take her to Colorado since she was immune."

"Immune? To the-"

"Yes." He was quick with his answer, almost like he didn't want to hear me say it. "They were going to use her to make a vaccine. I wasn't under the impression they were going to take her life in order to make it, nor did I think an attachment would form. She's such a great kid. I did what I had to do to protect her. At least I thought I did..."

"And Sarah?"

This time he swallows hard. "She's-"

He pauses to wipe at his eyes with his palms and clear his throat.

"Sarah is my daughter. She was shot and killed by a soldier..."

The urge to wrap my arms around him was strong, and I couldn't help how I gravitated closer to him. This is the first time he's ever been completely vulnerable with me. The more he talks the more the hard exterior comes down like a warrior lowering his shield.

"You're a good man, Joel. I am so sorry that you had to struggle this much in this life," I say.

He yanks his chair back out and plops down into it. His body slumps, tired. "That bitch couldn't have beat me any harder than life has been," he says and kind of snickers.

I pull a chair out beside him and take a seat. "Can we please find a solution? This isn't healthy. I want you to have the chance to experience some kind of normalcy."

He breathes in deep, cutting his eyes at me. "Normalcy?"

"You can live a normal life, and I want you to. I want you to talk to somebody, work through this with a professional. I promise it will help. You're safe here," I explain. My hand hesitantly reaches out and touches his back. He doesn't flinch.

Joel pursed his lips tight and sat in silence. The anger dissipated, the creases on his face softened. It was almost like he was considering my words.

"I'm not sure about this."

"Joel, please?" I beg, gathering his large hands into mine. "I don't want anything to happen to you..."

His eyes finally meet mine again. I couldn't read them. It was like looking through the windows of a dark room. I've always wondered how I could turn on the light.

"Please?"

Joel sighs. "Fine." His voice was gruff, like he was reluctant to give in.

My hands squeeze his, a smile forming on my lips. I was relieved to hear him finally consider. It's taken nearly two years.

Joel pulls his hands away from mine and sets them in his lap. "I guess I'm ready to heal mentally now..."