#i feel settled in my choice of dyed hairs now

[beatricecrumplebottom]

"Playing the Sims" is just content management for me these days. And yes, for some reason or other I find it "fun." Or at least pleasing.

First two images are part of my red hair catelog. Symbols include a potions bottle for the CreatorMix binned hairs, clouds represents–you guessed it–Clouds hair colors. Then there's five chemical beakers for the 5 6 families of dyed hair colors (reds-pinks-purples-blues-teals-mints), and then a leaf for 3 binned families of plantsim hairs.

Bottom image is part of my custom bin. There's a UFO for alien hairs, a mermaid's tail for mermaids, and more leaves for individual plant sim hairs (not familied).

Okay, so making 50-80 files per hair in Bodyshop is tedious. The recoloring is a breeze, because of Photoshop actions. Importing the dds files into Simpe is tedious, but the file renaming, tooltipping, and binning is quick with different utilities. Opening the game and seeing things all organized definitely gives a bump of happy chemicals in my brain.

@picknmixsims's BSOKeditor has all my love

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[animeredhead101]

Dad Phantom DP x DC Crossover

Completed

Bask in Our Cosmic Insignificance by DisillusionedDanny :

After Lady Gotham sends a lost and alone King Phantom to check on a little boy Danny Fenton finds himself the new guardian "angel" of a six year old boy. Tim Drake. Word Count: 33,632

The Devil Wore a T-Shirt by DisillusionedDanny :

After a one-night stand, Danny finds himself pregnant with Red Hood's kid. Now he finds himself as a dad to a small child with an important decision to make. Does he tell Red Hood he has a child? Or does Danny raise the kid by himself?

Word Count: 24,778

Who's Old Now? by LiraBuswavi :

“Am I your dad!!?” Billy shouted. Danny paused. Took a deep breath in and out before turning to him. “I’m gonna need you to back up, and explain. Please.” Or, what happens when a twelve year old masquerading as an adult superhero calls his guardian, an adult who can also turn into a child superhero, on speaker phone, in front of the Justice League. Word Count: 36,017

Of All the Things My Hands Have Held by DisillusionedDanny :

Upon learning that her son is in a relationship, Talia decides to create a clone to gift to her son as a gift to celebrate finally settling down. Now Damian and Danny are stuck trying to figure out how to raise a baby when neither of them had the best examples growing up.

Word Count: 17,066

Mourning a Young Soul Leads to Shared Custody by Olive_of_Vanders :

Danny was given a choice. Become King or parent a ghost kid. Ghost kid sounded a lot more easier to him. Word Count: 41,929

It's Not Sugar by ConspiracyCrows :

Ellie is destabilized and nearly killed by Vlad while trying to make another, "better", clone of Danny. In order to stabilize her she was de-aged to about 7, and now has chronic issues balancing her ecto the same way a type one diabetic has issues balancing blood sugars. In fact that's the cover story the pair use when Danny enrolls Ellie at Gotham Academy. The one favor he will allow Vlad to do for them. While Vlad seems to have finally come to his senses about Ellie, Danny won't let him anywhere near her ever again. Which is why they moved to Gotham in the first place, Vlad won't step foot there. It also helps that Lady Gotham is more than happy to have the Realms' Ambassador to the Living in her streets. They settle into Crime Alley, and Danny may or may not have forgotten to introduce himself to the Haunt owner, assuming Gotham would handle the niceties as he gets Ellie settled, and handles the pressing issues of the negotiations between the city, the realms, and those denizens of both who want or need one thing or other.

Word Count: 23,052

On-going

Deadly Assumptions and Their Consequences by Silver_star_06 :

The Justice league believes that Phantom is Captain Marvel‘s dad and tells the hero to summon him to help them with Darkseid. They weren’t expecting the cryptic eldridge being to start hanging around the watch tower. Danny couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the pre-teen that ended up as the current Captain Marvel. A scrappy black haired and blue eyed child vigilante, that only became one because of circumstance. Danny was going to help this child whether he wanted it or not. Word Count: 25,977

My Dad is Dead to Me by GhostInGotham :

John Constantine was fourteen when he set his house on fire. John Constantine was fourteen when he realized his father was still inside. Word Count: 19,573

Phantoms and Foes by Zylev :

Krypton was dying long before it exploded. After a lab accident at 14 gave Danny ice powers, he used them for good to try and stop crime as the first hero of Krypton. But when thousands of years of mining the core of Krypton finally caught up to the planet, General Zod evacuated Krypton to the Phantom Zone before it exploded. Little did Zod know he led the Kryptonians to a slaughter. Years later, Danny is the only Kryptonian left alive when Kal-El finds the Phantom Projector and brings him to Earth. Danny must now adjust to having new powers and life on a planet that is completely different than Krypton and the Phantom Zone. Word Count: 121,723

The Human Prince of Ghosts by AceFace98 :

Danny has been King for a few centuries now, but he's still half-ghost, immortal or not. So every now and again, Clockwork likes to kick him out of the Realms to go play human for a decade or two. It's usually pretty boring. This time, though, he meets a small child with a camera and a lot of pointed questions and immediately has Dad Instincts about it. Word Count: 65,300

Phantom's Progenies by Makuro767 :

progeny /ˈprɒdʒɪni/ noun plural noun: progenies a descendant or the descendants of a person, animal, or plant; offspring. A drabble collections of Danny Phantom as the father to several kids that are both his and clones of him from several different realities. Fluff with doses of trauma. ~ If you think you can write a full story from each drabble, be my guest. Word Count: 79,111 This is a HUGE multi-crossover fic FYI

[doshiart]

🖤 weekly tag wednesday 🖤

hiiii, pocket friends <3 thanks for tagging me @jrooc @michellemisfit

Name and A03 handle: doshi, snifsnufkin

Current Location: clip studio paint

Favorite picrew (don't have one? you can skip this or do this one)?

there was my top 1 favs ♡ poicon maker ♡ by poika, but i found out that it's removed (deleted or private) 😭

i love a lots...

picrew // picrew // picrew // picrew // picrew // picrew // picrew

What's one thing you want in a picrew?

most likely none of you know that it will soon be a year since i released my own picrew and so after that, i can't be picky and upset anymore if i didn't find the right hairs for me hahaha

i won't say what I WANT, but i love having a choice of cute animals!

and speaking of! hehehe, i'll note every thing you'll write there!!! because now i'm doing a new picrew maker rn and i say nothing 🤭

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

i love this drawing sm

Why is it your favourite? something in the vibe, dark, tension, colors. maybe especially because it's a scene from the fic and i think it shows their tension quite well?

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? no, at the beginning i didn't get the perspective i wanted, i was interested in this angle with the mirror reflection and was upset when things went wrong because in my head it was perfect lol so i just redrew it

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Workhouse Rock and A Song Only You Can Hear by Deena @suzy-queued I've kinda settled into her page

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? 

idk, probably Your Question Has Been Received by Macy @celestialmickey but i like the way it stopped on their meet and kiss, and also i know that Macy wants to get back to it one day, so it's not exactly a heartache

Favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic?

slowburn and mutual pining for sure! i love the delving into Ian's bipolar, the emotions and the versions of his depressing episodes hit me all the time. the last time i cried over this was in The Menagerie by @crossmydna

Least favourite? a/b/o. when things happen too fast (i really love slowburn... give me a fic where they didn't kiss until the last chapters and i'll eat it *says hi to Deena and ULAK boys*)

Secret or surprising kink or trope? i have cymbals monkeys in my head not in a kink way of course,,,,

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? 

i can finally get a good sleep,,,, i'm dying to share it with you!

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: all of you <3

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____?

i'm falling into fics

tagging @suzy-queued @lingy910y @burninface @mybrainismelted @creepkinginc

@celestialmickey @sickness-health-all-that-shit @crossmydna @heymrspatel @gallawitchxx

@energievie @blue-disco-lights @thepupperino @vintagelacerosette @gallapiech

@roryonic @spookygingerr @deathclassic @sgtmickeyslaughter @nymacron 🖤🖤🖤

[bookshelf-dust]

body and soul

sirius black x gn!reader

word count: 1,418

warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos?, flirting, fluff

a/n: hi! i wanted to write more sirius, and here we are. i think this is really sweet. i hope that you enjoy it! also, the title is a mr. darcy line from pride and prejudice (2005). i couldn’t resist, okay? sue me. anyways, let me know what you think and i love you!! <33

————

“I thought you said I could braid your hair, you little shit.” You remove your fingers from his curls. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning his head back to try and chase your hand. “Quite a mouth you’ve got on you.” 

You let up, continuing to scratch your nails over his scalp. You’d say he’s almost purring, but that’d be the wrong animal, you’re afraid. 

Sirius is sat on the floor between your legs. When you’d asked to play with his hair, he’d agreed, though this isn’t what you’d meant. He doesn’t seem to care. If you hear one more “five more minutes,” you might just kill him. 

“Regulus?”

“Hm?” The boy is sprawled out on the bed behind where you sit, flipping through something of Sirius’ he’d picked up upon entering the room.

“Who should we invite to your brother’s funeral?”

He snorts, and you can feel his shoulders shaking against the mattress. Sirius’ eyes snap open. “My what? What crime have I committed that is so heinous for you to now discuss my death?” 

He leans his head back, stormy eyes blinking up at you. 

“You haven’t let me braid your hair when that’s exactly what I asked of you.”

Sirius lets out a whine. “But I like the scratches.” 

“I know you do. But, frankly my love, you’re being a pain in my ass.”

He turns around to face you, sitting up on his knees, hands grabbing at your ankles. “Oh but I like your ass, wouldn’t want to hurt it now, would we?”

“Okay, gross. I’m going,” Regulus proclaims, but he doesn’t move an inch. He flips over onto his back, shielding his eyes with his forearm.

“Can I braid yours, Reg?” 

He peeks at you from underneath his arm. “Sure.”

You push further back on Sirius’ bed, trying to escape his grasp. He’s quick to stand, towering over you, hands creeping up your legs. There’s a look of faux betrayal on his face; you know better than to think he’d actually be upset about you choosing his brother’s hair to braid first. 

“Get back, you dog.”

Sirius gasps, and with one scandalized hand pressed to his chest—the other slapping at his sibling for laughing—you dart out of his range. 

You make it to the other side of the bed, Regulus now in between the both of you. The boy settles, cross legged in the space, and you sit up on your knees to rake through his waves. His hair is a little less wild than his brothers, but just as thick and smooth. 

“Sirius, my love, would you get me the ties and a brush, please?”

The look he receives from you tells him that he has no other choice. He retrieves them for you, though he gives you his best puppy dog eyes before handing them over. “Kiss.”

You smack one on his cheek, and steal the items from his hands. He looks appalled, and sits himself against the headboard, grumpy and brooding. 

Regulus’s hair isn’t nearly as long as Sirius’s, but there’s enough that you make two small french braids with the front section of his hair, tying them together at the crown of his head. You think he looks fantastic, and he’d be lying to himself if he said otherwise. 

He wanders off after his hair is done with, clearly finished with the both of your antics. 

Sirius crosses his arms, giving you a haughty look, as if he doesn’t need attention from you. Really he’s dying for a kiss, for you to play with his hair some more. 

“Oh, don’t be so grumpy, sweetheart,” you coo. He lets his arms drop, mouth ticking up at the corners. He loves it when you call him that. 

“Gimme a kiss, and a good one,” he warns, holding his finger up, “and you may have your way with me.”

“Oh, I may?” You scoot up towards him, hands planting firmly against the mattress on either side of his thighs. 

“Damn right, you may,” he laughs, completely enthralled with you.

You lean in, keeping your eyes on his—something else he’s fond of. You slot your mouth against his, finding the press of his lips to be warm and all-encompassing. Sirius has this way of kissing you, pushing his feelings outward and into you, letting you know how utterly taken he is. How much love he has for you. He makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like he will protect you from anything and everything. Nothing touches his baby. 

You try to pull away, but should know better. Sirius is greedy, always wanting seconds and thirds. And he gets them. Every. Fucking. Time. 

When he does let you go, it’s only to scoot further down the bed so that you can rise up onto your knees behind him. He likes it better this way because he can feel the heat of your body much more than if he were to sit on the floor. Being close to you makes him feel safe. Especially in a bedroom that has been a sanctuary from the rest of his home for so long. It’s better still with you in it. 

You comb through his mess of curls, and he tries his best not to groan each time you yank a little too hard. Once the knots are gone, you part his hair down the middle and separate it so you can braid each side. 

Sirius closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hands in his hair, the way your fingers send a chill down his spine each time they graze his neck. 

He’ll never understand how good you are at this, how you could do it with your eyes closed if you had to. He’s watched you do it numerous times, weaving each strand underneath the other, and you’ve even offered to teach him how someday so he can put it up when you’re not around. 

He’s gotten the hang of a regular braid; he just likes it better when you do it. Sirius also thinks he has to keep his hair long forever, because he couldn’t stand to deprive you of this. 

He feels when you finish one braid, the weight of it resting on one shoulder as you begin work on the other. 

“Going to sleep on me, baby?” you question, noticing how quiet he is. 

“Of course not,” he quips, reaching around to squeeze your waist.

You hold the braid firm in one hand, using the other the gently grab his jaw and turn him to face you. You kiss him once, short and sweet, and Sirius doesn’t think he could be more content. More cared for.

“Enjoying this, Black?” You’re beaming at him, eyes alight. This close you can see the freckles on the apples of his cheeks, across his nose. They’re light, but they’re most definitely there. And they’re gorgeous. 

“You know I am. You know, I really think you do it because it shuts me up.” 

You return to braiding, weaving the strands behind his ear together as securely as you can get them. “You got me.”

Sirius chuckles, a warm and honey-like sound. It fills your every nerve with glee.

“I’m all done,” you tell him, sinking back down into the mattress and stretching out your legs, knees having started to ache from being in that position for too long. 

Sirius spins around, grabbing hold of your ankles and tugging so that you fall back onto the bed. He pulls until you’re where he wants you, his body between your legs. He braces his arms on either side of your head, looking down at you, nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. 

“How do I look?”

You yank gently on the ends of his pigtails. “Gorgeous, as always.”

He chuckles. “Oh, how you flatter me, my love.”

You snort, and he enjoys the sound tremendously. Sirius presses his cheek to yours, nuzzling into your hair.

“I love you.” He whispers it into your ear, and the rasp in his voice gives you goosebumps.

“I love you too, baby.” You whisper the response into his ear as he’d done to yours, and the action makes him so happy that he pulls away just so he can kiss you. So that he can kiss every square inch of your face. 

“Thank you for letting me play with your hair,” you say. 

He winks at you, smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to the center of your throat. “Anytime, my sweet.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[kivedreams]

I have 7k+ on a fic that was supposed to be 4k max, I am letting my delusions go wild, a spoiler:

here's the final product :p

idol namjoon x f. reader, f is latina and poc (and this is completely unedited i mean it )

Just a the moment you thought the party was dying down they arrived, is not like you hated the idea of having a party, but this week has been hard on you, nothing went exactly as you planned, having your thesis send back two times in a row, draw you down, that thesis was the last thing between you and your PHD, you knew it was going to be hard, but god it really was testing you, of course you were happy for NamJoon today was a big day for him, he was finally releasing the book that he always wanted to publish a full guide on Joseon era artwork focused on its influece of todays art, Namjoon was really proud of korean artists, so being able to pay homage to them was a big thing for him and for you, because namjoon happiness was part of your own. 

The tight red dress that you were wearing might have been a bit too much, but it was namjoon’s gift, it might have been tighter because you had put on some weight due to the stress of this months, going to the gym or doing any type of exercise was the last thing on you mind. You would be lying if you did not admit that, it was one of the things that were making you feel insecure tonight, your relationship was already hard, nobody believed that namjoon the first born child of a korean family, the leader of the most successful kpop group and now namjoon the writer would settle for you, a latin woman of color, that did not appeal to a single one of the korean standards, you weren't insecure by namjoon’s feelings, but you were insecure on how everyone else feelings and prejudices might influence his decisions, is not like you were desperate for the ring, you really didn't need it, nor were you prepared for marriage, but sometimes it feel like the only thing that could silenced all the voices in your head, all the social media talk, and of course everyone around you. 

“Y/N?” he called for you, you were still in the balcony of the apartment, seated in the light brown handmade chair, you purchase for the space, with a glass of wine enjoying the seoul night, a slight breeze, and of course the beauty, of the balcony, namjoon and you have crafted together, a lot of plants were everywhere accompany by artworks and souvenirs that both of you have collected through the years, some on your travels together some alone.

“Yes, darling” you responded looking at him, namjoon was a handsome man, you loved that haircut in him, and his choice of clothing today was a masterpiece, that beige suit with a purple bottom up was a perfect mix. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes, he quickly brushed that look a way and say,

“My parents are here, they're asking for you” are they? was the only thing in your mind

You walked to him with a smile taking his hands, to greet them, a most of the guest that have arrived since you little rendezvous to the balcony, you were begging that nobody would notice your weight, your thighs were clearly giving a show in that dress, god I hope the concealer is strong enough to cover the sleep bags in my eyes, do I still have lipstick on?.

“Y/N! His father greeted you “You look beautiful tonight! How is your thesis going? Are you close to the finish line? "His father always looked happy to see you, but was he?

“Mr. Kim! Thank you! And yes I'm close to the finish line, if everything goes as planned, I will be able to present it in a few weeks” You responded with a smile giving him a hug and doing the same with his mother. She always looked at you, at your hair with curiosity  of course 4B coils were not the norm in Korea, but Korean beauty standards weren't going to pressure you into hating your beautiful hair.

After polite talks  and greetings  for a whole night with people that were close to both of you, in professional and personal level, the night was over, Namjoon and you finished saying good bye to the last guest and his agent, the night was a success, as you knew it would be, Namjoon never fails to amaze you, you saw him the whole night , moving around and enchanting everyone, you get it, you too were enchanted by him.

Finally being able to get rid of the uncomfortable shoes and the red lace around your waist that made the dress even tighter, letting namjoon in the living room, talking with the service that was in charge of getting everything clean up and tidy again, walking straight to your room, dreaming of the comfort of your bed, you forgot all the things that were placed on top of it, because you didn't trust any of the frail art pieces to be in the open while everybody drank and mingle, with not other option, you moved to the balcony, walking down to the kitchen first taking a glass of wine with you and politely smiling to the service, namjoon was out of your sight.

Sitting on the cold floor of the balcony letting your hair free from the detailed bun that it was made into, enjoying the silence and peace of the night. You felt empty, maybe too much stress plus the insecurities in your relationship were passing you the bills, in a few months you would be 30, and if you get your PHD granted, working as a full time curator in the national art museum of seoul, just what you wanted, but was namjoon on your side for it? you didn't know.

[neowinestainedress]

𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 — 𝐂𝐇. 𝟐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee haechan x oc ; na jaemin x oc 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, smut, childhood best friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, exes to lovers, lovers to exes 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jaemin arrives in korea, and he and hyejin immediately get along. But while he tries to settle in, new doubts creep into his mind, keeping him hooked on her relationship with haechan more than he should. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut, oral s*x (f receiving), unprotected s*x 𝐖𝐂: +5k 𝐀/𝐍: the second chapter is here. things are getting more interesting, so i hope you'll like it! feedback means the world, whether it's a comment, a reblog (it helps to boost the fic so more people can see it), or an ask, please send your thoughts! enjoy ♡

When Friday came, Hyejin had completely forgotten about this new friend, honestly, she couldn’t care much about him. Between her job and other things assaulting her mind, worrying about whoever was going to live with Haechan was the last thought in her mind. They were already friends, so he couldn’t be a bad person, but did she care about knowing him? Not really. 

But maybe he would’ve been a good thing. If Haechan decided to go back to being friends with Zoya, she would’ve visited his place, met his roommate, fell for him, and Hyejin could sleep at night without the lingering fear of Zoya stealing her boyfriend. 

To be honest, Hyejin hated the word ‘stealing’, people aren’t objects, you can’t steal them, but you can draw them to you, and if you know the power you have over them, maybe the wiser choice would be to leave them alone, especially if you already did it once and hurt them. 

But even with that fantasy of setting the new boy up with Zoya, Hyejin still didn’t remember that he was already home when she barged inside Haechan’s place as if it was her own. 

“Honey!” The brown-haired screamed, closing the door with a loud bang as she pushed it close with her feet, “I’m home. Brought grocery.”

“Oh, I thought it was just two of us, here.” A male voice echoed through the place. A tall man with dyed dark blonde hair was standing in front of her, dressed in casual clothes, with a rather surprised expression on his handsome face. 

“Shit!” She screamed, bags full of stuff almost falling to the ground if only the stranger didn’t grab them promptly. When their eyes met, she could feel her heart throb in her chest, the eggs, God, the eggs, what if they broke anyway? 

“Are you okay?” The man questioned, standing up, doing the favour of still keeping the bags in his arms that were surely stronger than hers. 

She nodded, shaking her head and brushing her hair back while a look of panic still painted her face. “The eggs.” 

“The eggs?” His brows raised in perplexity as his head tilted to the side. 

“Yeah, can you see if the eggs broke? I wanted to make a cake and now no cake, and no ramen too with no eggs.” 

The blonde stared at her for a few seconds, studying her eyes and the nervous movements of her fingers before he coughed and shook his head. “I’m sure they’re fine,” he voiced, walking to the kitchen followed by her. 

“I think you crashed them,” she said, lightly jumping up and down on her tiptoes by his side, apprehensively waiting for him to find the containers with the eggs.  

“I think you scare yourself too easily,” he commented with a hint of sarcasm in his husky voice.  

“Excuse me?” 

The man chuckled, and a beautiful, breathtaking, smile appeared on his face. “Didn’t you know I was coming? If you live here, you surely agreed to me moving in, right? You know about me?” He asked while his voice broke into a high-pitched tone full of worries with each question. Haechan couldn’t be so damn dumb to don’t warn his roommate, right? 

“Oh! Oh, shit, it’s you! Yeah, I know about you, you slipped my mind, I’m sorry, but yeah, yeah,” she blurted out, running a hand in her hair before cupping her face. Why was she so forgetful? And why she couldn’t avoid making a fool of herself for once?  

“Great,” he smiled, letting out a breath of relief before grinning at her antics. “And I’ll pay for the eggs if they’re broken.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Hyejin reassured, moving her hand in a dismissive move. “And I don’t live here, by the way.” 

“Oh,” he whispered while he was still intent on placing everything on the table to find the eggs and make sure they weren’t crushed. “You… don’t?” 

“No, I’m Haechan’s girlfriend, I just grocery-shopped for me and, while I was there, I thought about doing it also for him.” She quirked a brow when she saw his reaction to her words. Was that a weird thing to do? It was just a nice gesture, and to her, it was pretty normal, just like ten thousand other things she would do in his place. 

“You’re nice…?” He said, letting the phrase hang, waiting for her to fill him in about her name.  

“Hyejin,” she greeted with a bright smile that turned into a shy laugh when she realized they had been talking for so long and did everything but introduce each other. “You?” 

“Jaemin, Na Jaemin, for my friends Nana,” he greeted, his 32 teeth smile on his face again. 

“Nana, that’s pretty,” she said. “So, do you mind helping me?” 

Jaemin smiled and then nodded. “The least I can do after I almost gave you a heart attack for your eggs.”

“Wow, you already became friends,” Haechan exclaimed, entering the kitchen and seeing how close Hyejin and Jaemin were already, chatting about something he couldn’t grasp. 

“He helped with the food. I passed by the mall and thought of you. You would die without me,” she finished jokingly, leaving Jaemin’s side to reach Haechan, and wrapping her arms around his shoulders before kissing him gently. “Missed you.” 

“It was a tough week,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss, and walking around the table to see what was left in the bags. “Bought some things,” he joked. 

“You would starve without me,” she said. “Don’t have to thank me, by the way.” 

Haechan rolled his eyes and grabbed a bag of his favourite biscuits before walking back to her. “Thanks,” he said, doing pouty lips. “How much do I owe you?” 

“I don’t remember, we can settle it later. Or I could gift this to you, a welcome gift for the new boy,” Hyejin said, turning to Jaemin that was staring at them with an expression she couldn’t name. But he only smiled before looking away when their eyes met.

“Whatever you prefer,” Haechan shrugged, bringing her attention back to him, “by the way, I’m going to the skate park with Jeno, are you coming?” 

Her eyes darkened and a frown formed on her face. “But, we were supposed to hang out?” 

“I know, babe, but…” he sighed, “I forgot that I promised to him and Yangyang before I promised it to you.” 

She sighed but nodded without complaining further. “It’s fine, you had a long week with the moving in and then your job,” her lips curled in a smile and her hand lifted to caress his cheeks. “Have fun and don’t hurt yourself like last time.” 

Haechan chuckled. “It was a mistake and it was Yangyang’s fault.” 

She raised a brow and then laughed. “Sure, whatever. Can we eat together, though?” 

“Sure, I’ll be home before 7. If you want, I can grab something while coming back.” 

“No, I’ll cook something.” 

“Okay, bye,” he said, waving to them and leaving the house. 

When Haechan left, silence filled the room, and Hyejin wouldn’t have found it nerve-wracking if it only wasn’t for Jaemin’s persistent gaze on her. 

“Excuse me, everything alright?”

Jaemin didn’t comprehend she was talking to him right away and hesitated before answering in a mumble, “yeah, yeah, I was just… thinking.” 

“Oh, you wanted to be alone?” 

“What?” He asked, brows furrowing. “No, no, I can’t kick you out of the house,” he said, words followed by a light laugh, “not that I would. I have no reasons; you are so nice.” 

Hyejin’s eyes crinkled up and a small dimple poked her right cheek while a whispered thanks slurred from her lips. “You were thinking about what? If you want to tell me.” 

“No, it’s nothing,” he shrugged, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching as she moved around as if that was her place, cleaning up as if it was her duty, and sure, Jaemin knew nothing about them and their dynamics but something about everything felt off. Maybe it was the jet lag, or the Korean air after years of America, yes, it had to be that. 

Her soft giggle brought him back to earth. “What’s so funny?” 

“You,” she said. “Are you tired?” 

“Do I look that horrible?”

She shook her head while she folded the bags and then placed them under the sink, ready to be used again. “You look shaken. Is your room already set up?” 

Jaemin shrugged. “Partially, the truck with most of my things got lost and I have no idea when I will have my piano, my guitar, and my bed.” 

She gasped, signalling him to follow her on the couch. “Your bed?” 

“Yep, and while you’re here,” he coughed, “did you and Hyuck have plans for a spicy night or can I sleep with him tonight?” 

Hyejin laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry but that’s hilarious.”

“My tragedy it’s hilarious? I spent years giving that mattress my shape, if I don’t get it by tomorrow, I will cry.” 

His voice and expression only made her laugh more, to the point of tears. “Sorry, it was bad luck, but the good news is you can sleep with my boyfriend.” 

“Great, I hope he stopped kicking with time.” 

She chuckled. “He doesn’t kick me when we sleep together.” 

“So, you’re sure you won’t hate me? He already cancelled plans with you today.” 

“No, don’t worry, I’m used to it,” she said light-heartedly but then her expression changed when she saw Jaemin’s furrowed eyes. 

“You’re used to it?” 

“Yeah, you have no ideas how many times Haechan says we will do something and then forgets about it or changes it to something else like staying at home or… staying at home.” 

While her voice was light and playful, Jaemin didn’t find it so funny but, once again, it had been years he had been with Haechan so maybe he was like this with everybody, maybe he simply changed and also she seemed fine with it, so who was he to judge? 

“What about you? I’ve been friends with Hyuck since we were crawling, but I can’t remember you.” 

“Do you know all his friends?” 

“Mostly,” she said, bringing her knees to the couch and turning to the side to look at him better.  

“I used to travel a lot, so probably that’s why you don’t know me. Also, I was his friend from his grandparents’ town, that’s where we met.” 

“Oh, yeah, it makes sense,” she said. “And why are you here now?” 

“Studied in America and then decided to come back here to see if Korea had something magical for my future, we’ll see if this will be the dumbest idea I’ve ever made or the best.” 

She chuckled, eyes softening. “Are you afraid?” 

Jaemin sighed, rubbing his neck. “Aren’t we all? Shouldn’t we? Fear is not necessarily bad, right?” 

Hyejin hummed. “Well, I’m not sure.” 

“What is it?” 

She chuckled nervously. “The future.” 

“Oh, if you look at it that way, it is scary.” 

“Yeah, but I can’t find a job. I mean I have a job, I work in a library and I managed to create a small book club every Tuesday with adults and another on Friday dedicated to little kids, but my art degree has led me nowhere. I’m losing my passion for painting, I don’t have time for painting, I feel like a failure because my parents warned me about it,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, shit, that’s not what I wanted to show you of me.” Not even Haechan wanted to listen to her rant most of the time, why would a stranger be okay with it?  

“No, keep going,” he reassured her, touching her hand, stopping her nervous movements, and unconsciously rubbing his thumb on her palm. “I love listening.” 

She gulped, briefly looked at their hands and his eyes, and then went on. “I fear I won’t find my place in this world, and I know I’m only 22 and I have time, but… everything spins around so fast, everyone seems better than you, at everything, and… it sucks.” 

Jaemin chuckled, “It sucks.” 

“Are you making fun of me?” She huffed, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms. 

“No, I agree. It sucks. But I’m not sure you want to listen to my talks against capitalism and its damages to people and the environment or other talks about economies and how humans are not made for this stressful, time-ticking life and how at this point it’s just surviving and not living, right?” 

A smile spread on her face, cheeks heating up. “Maybe one day, I’d love to listen.” 

“One day,” Jaemin smiled widely, perfect white teeth in view and eyes full of a hopeful warmth. “Now, any other fears?”

Haechan. 

It lingered in her brain. All the fears about their future. How everything she dreamed of seemed to be secondary to him. How the future she pictured for them seemed so different from the drawing he had in mind. Incompatible. And somehow, they always found a way to never talk about it. 

“Nothing,” she whispered, swallowing the gulp in her chest. “Just that.” 

“Great,” he beamed. “I can tell you one thing my grandma said to me, you have a place in this world, you just have to find it, but you have it, and one day, you will discover it, get comfortable in it, and you’ll realize that everything you had to face had led you to the highest place in your life.” 

She swiftly wiped away a tear and smiled. “Thanks, I will try to remember it when I have my lowest moment. Want to help me think about something for dinner?” 

“Sure, I love cooking!” 

“Really? I love it too!” 

Hyejin had no idea if Jaemin would’ve been a perfect match for Zoya, but for now, that thought didn’t cross her mind, for now, it only looked like she could’ve found a new amazing friend, and that was something that had been missing for a while in her life. 

“What do you mean boiled chicken with no seasoning?” Hyejin asked speechless, stirring the food in the pot while Jaemin finished setting the table. 

“I’m not kidding, that’s when I learnt to never accept invites at other people’s houses,” he laughed, but the thought of that dinner sent shivers down his spine. 

“Well, you’ll eat well here,” she promised. 

“Because you are the chef of the house?” 

She grinned, humming after tasting the food. “Most of the time.” 

“Wait, do you live here?” 

She shook her head. “Nope, but we’re both very busy and I try to spend more time as possible with him. And I love this made-up sense of domestic life I dream to have one day.” 

“And he never comes to your place?” Jaemin didn’t want to pry, but since he arrived there, Haechan didn’t talk about her as much as she talked about him. He wasn’t even sure his friend told him he had a girlfriend. And in the last few hours, he got to see that she acted like a wife. 

“Not as much as I am here, but if you don’t want me around, we can —” 

“No,” Jaemin stopped her instantly. “You care about him… a lot, it’s nice.” 

Her face heated up and she looked away. “Is it so evident?” 

“Mhh, yes?” 

“What’s so evident?” Another voice asked. 

“Haechan!” She exclaimed, rushing to the kitchen door to hug him. 

“Babe,” he groaned, pulling back, “I’m all sweaty.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, hugging him anyway. “I missed you,” she pouted, cupping his face before bringing her lips to his. 

“Missed you too,” he smiled, leaving a small peck on her lips before looking behind her to stare at the pots. “Mhh, it smells delicious here, is it all from you?” 

She scoffed, flicking her ponytail in a bragging motion. “It’s always me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, without you I’d be dead,” he laughed. “I’ll go take a quick shower and then we can eat, alright?” 

“Yes, we’ll wait for you.” 

Jaemin coughed. “You don’t really come here every day to feed him?” 

“Oh my god, why do you say it like that?” She laughed but Jaemin’s serious face made her stop another time. “I’m not a maid.” 

“I know, but…” 

“I just love cooking, and my roommates usually have different shifts, so they are home later than me, and I’d rather eat with my boyfriend than alone.” 

Jaemin hummed, lips pressed together as he helped with the other two pots and brought them to the table. 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with me around?” 

“Yes, I told you, I like you. I mean, I don’t know you much but… I think we get alone, right? At least for now.” 

Hyejin nodded. “I like you too, but if anything makes you uncomfortable don’t be afraid of talking to me.” 

“Yes, sure.” Jaemin smiled warmly, grabbing even the last pan and setting it on the table before placing a hand on her shoulder. “But I don’t think you’ll ever make me uncomfortable.” 

“Jaem, it’s not possible you don’t remember her. Come on, I had a fake phone with her photo on it and I used to always be on call with her, you thought I was crazy and I made her up,” Haechan said. It was mid-dinner, and after talks and talks, the topic focused on their childhood and how strange it was Hyejin and Jaemin didn’t meet before when they were so close with Haechan. 

“Now that I think about it, I remember him talking about you,” Jaemin said, pointing a finger at her. “He really looked insane, and you seemed too perfect from his talks so I thought he made you up and that photo was cut out of a journal or something.” 

Hyejin laughed. “Too perfect? So you really loved me all along?” 

Haechan gulped, eyes dimming a bit of their happy light, but smile still pulled in a line. “I guess.” He wasn’t sure it was love back then, not like what they shared now, at least. They were each other’s half since the start, always there for each other, in the good and bad, and he truly wouldn’t have survived without her, but when he found out how she loved him all along, he felt that what he always felt for her wasn’t enough. 

“Wait, you’re not dating since forever?” Jaemin asked, bringing him back on earth, and making her blush brightly. 

“We were kids,” Haechan huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, but you’ve dating for a while, now, right? At least until high school, you used to talk about your girlfriend back then, you were head over heels just as you are now.” Jaemin hyped tone didn’t meet the energy that fell in the room, time freezing and awkward fits of cough coming from Hyejin’s mouth. 

“I wasn’t dating her in high school… well, we started to date during the last year, but I don’t think I’ve ever talked to you about her,” Haechan said awkwardly, and Jaemin’s face filled with sorrow. 

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry, I just… I made assumptions and I made them wrong,” he tried to joke about it, hoping it would ease the tension, and it worked, making Hyejin giggle and tell him to not worry with a wave of the hand. 

“It’s fine, our story is weird,” she explained, but her mind was going down a completely different path. She wasn’t surprised hearing Haechan was head over heels for Zoya, she was there, witnessing it with her eyes, hearing him rant about how much he loved her. But it had to be a good thing that Jaemin thought Haechan shared the same love for her, too, right? If Haechan talked about her the same way he talked about Zoya, if he looked at her the same way, she was sure he loved her a lot. 

Jaemin wanted to say something more but only limited himself to a fake smile and a nod of the head before hiding behind the glass of wine. 

“What about you?” Hyejin asked, deciding it was better to change the topic and shine the light on him. 

“About me or my dating life?” He asked, placing the glass down, and smiling at her. 

“Your dating life, you look like a heartbreaker,” she joked, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. 

Jaemin snickered, leaning back against the backrest of the chair. “I’m pretty lame actually. I think I break hearts because people fall for me and I rarely love them back.” 

Haechan scoffed. “If only you weren’t so damn hard to please.” 

“Me, hard to please? Have you taken a look in the mirror?” Jaemin retorted playfully. 

“Uh, uh, I’ve got her,” Haechan replied, indicating Hyejin with a nod of the head. 

“It sounds as if you two gave it a romantic shot and it didn’t work out,” she said, trying to suppress the laugh but when they both turned to her glaring at her, she broke out laughing. “I’m sorry but why did it get so personal?” 

“Because I’m not hard to please, I like simple things,” Jaemin explained, shrugging. “As long as I’m with the one I love, I’m happy.” 

Haechan rolled his eyes, sipping from his glass before leaning into her ear and whispering, “Don’t believe him.” 

“Ugh,” Jaemin gasped offended. “If only I didn’t respect our friendship I’d tell her to put me on a test.” 

Hyejin shook her head, snickering. “You two still act like children, trying to make it up for the lost years?” 

“If he lies, I’m afraid I’ll have to report it to the teacher,” Jaemin joked before poking his tongue out to Haechan. 

“God, you are unsufferable, I had forgotten about it.” 

“Maybe you’ll find love here,” Hyejin said, cutting their bickerings, and bringing a hand under her chin. 

“Who knows, life is unpredictable,” Jaemin smiled tenderly, playing with the shaft of the glass. 

“I hope you will settle in here.”

After a month, Jaemin was more than settled in Seoul and in that house. It wasn’t easy to get accustomed to a new life, find a job and meet new friends, but it wasn’t even that hard. 

Haechan was still the usual social butterfly he was back in time, and his friends were nice, so soon enough Jaemin started to hang out with them too. Life was pretty erratic, but at the same time, something felt cosy about everything when he came home after a long day at work. 

At first, he thought it simply was the warm color of the living room, or the candles scattered on the shelves, or the smell of food that filled the place most of the nights when he returned home. But after two months, he understood that warm feeling was Hyejin. 

At the start, he found it odd that she was at their place so much, it was even annoying because he had imagined having some time and space alone with his best friend after so many years of being away, but he couldn’t hate her even if he tried. 

Something wasn’t quite right, though. 

Jaemin had been studying them for a while; he wasn’t a creep, and he truly didn’t want to get in their personal business, but it was rather impossible when they were always in front of his eyes. Hyejin always made sure to pass by even for a quick hello and a kiss, rare were the days when she couldn’t because she was too busy or too tired from work, and Jaemin had learned that on Friday they had their special night together, that consisted in having a different type of date. And if it was possible, during the weekend, it was as if she moved in with them. 

But if he quickly drew a map of their relationship, he could also easily see all the things that jarred in the picture. 

Hyejin truly was the light of the house, a warm presence, a reassuring hug. She was all over Haechan, and every time Jaemin stopped to stare at the way her eyes would look at Haechan, he could swear he had never seen a person more in love than her. If heart eyes were real, they would belong to her. He couldn’t even not notice her lingering touches, her slim fingers looking for Haechan’s hands, almost shyly, as if for some reason she couldn’t, as if that wasn’t her place. Her fingertips would run on his hand, or his thighs, tracing patterns while she listened to him talk with a lost, in-love, smile on her face, or she would run them in his black hair, playing with it until Haechan glared at her for ruining his style. 

But all that love seemed to meet a cold wall when Jaemin’s eyes landed on Haechan. He was sure his friend loved her too, Jaemin could hear the tender tone behind his ‘babe’ and ‘honey’, and how happy she was when he randomly gifted her something unexpected. For some reason, though, his love didn’t seem just as strong. And sometimes Jaemin wondered if Haechan truly loved her or not. 

He tried not to focus on it, it wasn’t his problem, he probably should’ve focused on finding somebody on his own instead of analysing his best friend’s relationship, but his brain couldn’t help but run miles when they were in front of him. 

Haechan started pushing her gentle touch away, stopping her with a colder tone when she brushed her hair and swiftly pulled away from the kiss. And Jaemin wouldn’t have cared about it if only he didn’t witness her eyes saddening with every rejection. 

“Don’t you think Haechan has been acting weird?” He dared to ask one day. They were alone at home since Haechan went out to buy some drinks. Jaemin wanted to mind his business and stay locked in his room, but when he went downstairs and saw her on the couch, he couldn’t bite his tongue. 

Hyejin lifted her gaze from the phone to him, a cute wrinkle forming on her forehead as she tried to understand what he meant by that. “What are you referring to?” 

Jaemin sighed, walking in fast steps to sit next to her. “Doesn’t he seem more distant and cold?” 

“Oh,” she whispered, locking her phone to let it drop at her side before turning to face him. “A bit…” 

“And… you’re fine with it?” 

“I mean, he’s probably just stressed because of work, he’s going insane over it, so I don’t feel like blaming him. Why? Did he answer you badly? I know it’s not nice, but he tends to get easily triggered when he’s stressed.” 

Jaemin wanted to slap himself. Of course, he was just making things up in his brain, reading too much between the lines. It had been too long since he had been so close with Haechan and he didn’t know him as much as Hyejin did. It had to be just stress. “No, you’re right, he told me the new shifts are screwing him and the boss is making him go through hell, I’m just… dumb.” 

“But why? If he said something to you, I can talk to him.” 

“No, no,” Jaemin reassured her, trying to comfort her with a smile. “It wasn’t about me.” 

Hyejin smiled. “Wait, you were worried about me?” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened and she chuckled at his expression. “I wasn’t worried,” he stopped her immediately, “it’s just that… you, oh, never mind, he’s just stressed anyway, you don’t need to hear my useless rants about imaginary stuff.” 

She laughed. “Okay, fine, I won’t torture you. But I think that’s a sign you haven’t found anybody if you’re so worried about me.” 

He pressed his lips together, sighing undefeated. “I don’t know if I want to add a relationship to the mix of moving to another country and starting a new job and obsessing over my best friend not treating my half-roommate like a princess even when his brain is fried.” 

Hyejin chuckled, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Let’s change the obsessing over my boyfriend and me with having time for a relationship?” She teased, placing her hands on his shoulders and batting her eyes at him. 

“Why does it sound like you’re trying to set me up with someone?” 

“Because I am,” she replied resolutely. 

Jaemin rolled his eyes. “Fine, but just because it’s you.” 

“I told Jaemin about Zoya,” Hyejin whispered, hot breath hitting Haechan’s chest, covered in the t-shirt he used as pyjamas as they laid in bed. 

“You did what?” He asked, looking down at her, not able to hide the shock behind his voice and eyes. 

“I didn’t murder anybody, I told him he could meet Zoya,” she explained, not getting his reaction. 

“I know but she will get him killed,” he said. “They will never match.” 

“You don’t know. Jaemin’s sweet and Zoya’s a nice girl, so, why not?” 

Haechan chuckled. “Oh, so you compliment her sometimes?” 

“Shut up, I’ve never said a bad thing about her.” 

Haechan raised a brow, silently questioning her words. 

“Fine, maybe I did, but only when she broke your heart,” our hearts, “and I just called her out for the things she did to you, never went past that. And when she doesn’t break my boyfriend’s heart, she is nice.” 

He chuckled, shaking his head before leaving a peck on her forehead. “You’re cute when you get riled up, but try to keep it down. Come here,” he ordered, pulling her closer to start a heated kiss, surely not with the intention of turning it into hands roaming on skin and whimpers filling the room. 

“We can’t… Jaemin,” Hyejin whispered against his lips when he rolled her over to make her lay on the mattress. 

“We’ll keep quiet,” Haechan reassured her, leaving one last kiss before he started removing her clothes, right before his met the same fate. 

“You’re so pretty, you know?” 

She hummed, watching as he leaned down to kiss her bare breast before his lips reached her nipples to suck on them. She pushed down a moan while her nails scratched the bedsheets. “Can I make it up for making you mad?” 

“You didn’t make me mad, but I’ll pretend to be very offended by what you say, so yes, make it up,” she joked, making him smile. 

Haechan moved down until he reached between her legs and then leaned in, breath hitting her pussy, already sending shivers down her spine. Haechan didn’t add other words, he never did, only started leaving kisses on her inner thigh and slowly dragged his mouth closer to her centre. 

“Please, don’t tease me,” she huffed. 

“I’m not teasing, I’m taking care of you,” he retorted, going on with his soft touches. “Just relax, it was a stressful day, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good, so let me take the stress away.” While his lips kept kissing her skin, his hands moved up to touch her body, smiling as he felt her tremble under him, and when enough time passed, he felt like starting to take care of her like she wanted. His tongue laid flat on her pussy, wetting it before he started concentrating on the clit. Haechan was thoughtful and methodical, always following his usual pattern of long strokes of his tongue followed by careful sucks on her clit. And, when he felt generous enough, he even added a finger, just like now. 

“Haechan,” she breathed out, voice shaky as her head rolled back, and fire rushed in her veins.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He hummed against her, staring at her, only seeing her boobs raising fast, and part of her neck. 

“So good.” 

“���S good? Then come all over my tongue,” he encouraged in a low groan, quickening his movements while his hands moved to cup her thighs and spread her more. “Show me how good I make you feel, baby, come on.” 

And it took nothing for her to come, shaking like a leaf while her legs closed around his head, as he never stopped his movements, teasing his tongue inside before going back at her throbbing clit to suck it. 

“Mhh, fuck,” she moaned, feeling breathless when he pulled away, the high slowing down. “Want you.” 

“Not caring about Jaemin anymore?” 

“I can keep silent,” she pouted, grabbing him to push him close to her. 

Haechan chuckled and then moved her up on the bed to fix her better before he aligned his hips to hers. “Want you so badly, since he’s around we stopped fucking like rabbits.” 

“Haechan! You’re so vulgar.” 

“But we were used to it, you can’t deny,” he said, kissing her neck. 

“Never denied, there are ways and ways to say things.” 

“Mhh, can I be inside you or is it vulgar?” 

“Just fuck me, please.” 

“Boo, vulgar.” 

“Hae — shit,” she cursed when he pushed in, hands reaching his shoulders for support while her legs wrapped around his waist. 

Haechan chuckled, starting to thrust his hips into her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A moan rolled from her mouth, eyes parting to stare at him. A cute furrow on his forehead while his eyes stared at her face. “You’re beautiful, you know?”

She didn’t reply, only smiled widely before turning her face to the side to hide the blush on her face. But Haechan placed two fingers under her chin and moved her face again, kissing her softly. 

She felt all the stress of the long day leave her body as the pleasure incremented with every snap of his hips, not hard but rhythmic enough to push her closer to her climax. 

“Hyuck,” she whimpered, nails digging into his back, dragging a hiss out of his mouth. 

“Yes, babe? Are you close?”

She hummed, eyes squeezing shut as she felt the orgasm approach. She never had anybody but him, but she was sure nobody else would ever be able to read her like he could. She wished she wouldn’t ever have to feel other hands on her skin, or lips on her body because only his could feel this right. And now that his lips were gently teasing one of her nipples, while his hand was between her leg to stimulate her clit, and he whispered praises right against her ear, she truly felt like nobody else could get her. 

“Fuck, you feel too good,” he moaned, lips leaving her sensitive bud so that his face could drop in the crook of her neck. “Come with me.”

She hummed, sounds muffled into her mouth as she kept her lower lip trapped between her teeth to don’t be too loud. This time the pleasure rushed over her with more force as her hips raised from the mattress to rut against his and chase the high. Haechan had this tendency of being a bit too loud when he came, so she was quick at trapping his lips on her, and kissing him throughout the orgasm, muffling his whimpers and moans, mixing them with hers. 

“Fuck,” he exhaled after a minute, pulling out of her and collapsing to the side. “Look at you,” he whispered, laying on his side while he caressed her hair, pushing it back on her forehead, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “you always look so hot after sex.”

She chuckled, shifting to hide against his chest. “Shut up, I look like a mess.”

“A mess I made, so you’re hot,” Haechan said, pulling her closer. “Shower? Then I could use a snack, you know?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes jokingly, “You already had one.”

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[em1e]

ruthless king. | 1.8 k words

╰ the king of valhalla visits your castle with a proposition for your father. ⚠︎ arranged marraige, tension, potential angst, plot build up, threats? ♡ series m.list

the air around the castle was freezing, though you're unsure if it’s from the winter seeping its way through the walls or if it’s from the announcement of the valhalla king visiting to speak to your father. 

it’s left a bitter taste in your mouth, the way you’re hastily fitted into an elegant dress and poked and prodded until you’re what your chambermaid's deemed fit, almost shoved out of the room under the fret of being late to the impromptu dinner your father insists your appearance necessary. 

your shoulders visibly relax at the sight of your knight waiting beyond your chamber doors. baji’s hair is pulled back into a neat bun, yet somehow still messy enough that loose strands find their way escaping the tie and you almost have to fight to stop yourself from pushing the pieces from his face. but it makes you smile, him being there, despite the way your heart beats erratically in your chest from anxiety of why your presence would be needed. 

baji guides you to the dining hall, though there’s no real need for him to when you know every crack and crevice of the castle like the back of your hand. he holds the door open for you with a small nod of acknowledgement, and you suck in a breath before offering the smallest of smiles to those already at the table. 

your father, at the head, with one of the village's doctors standing idly behind him; a testament to his declining health. to his right is your half brother, kazutora, who looks just as unpleased to be there as you feel. the seat to the left of your father is empty, saved for you, and at the other end of the table is the valhalla king. 

kisaki tetta, known among the kingdoms for his quick rise to the throne through bloodshed. standing behind him is who you can assume is his right hand, hanma shuji; you’ve heard through town gossip he’s just as cruel, if not more than his king. 

you bow as they stand in greeting, a small, “it’s an honor to meet you.” falling from your lips before you move to sit beside your father, with baji following to take his place behind his king. 

“the pleasure is all mine,” kisaki returns the greeting, eyeing you as you settle at the table, “i imagine your father has already spoken to you in reference to my arrival?” 

your eyes flit from the lace of the table cloth to your father, brows slightly furrowed while opening your mouth to reply. he, however, beats you to the punch. 

“i’ve yet to discuss it with them,” he explains, a cough escaping his lips as he finishes the sentence, “though now is as good of a time as any.” 

he turns to you, taking one of your hands into his own, “we have been discussing the future of the kingdom, especially as i do not seem to be getting any better, and king kisaki and i agree under the both of you ruling, our kingdoms will have the opportunity to thrive.” 

surely he is not suggesting what you think he may be. 

you hear kazutora inhale sharply at the implication, your fathers hands tighten around your own at the sound. 

“i . . but i am not the eldest, father, and kazutora is far more fit for the crown than-” 

“kazutora is not . .” your father pauses, glance dancing from you to your sibling, “i fear the kingdom will not accept him wholly as a ruler.” 

you clench your jaw, pulling your hands from his own, “then it seems i have no choice in the matter.” 

“our kingdom needs a strong ruler, strong allies,” he argues with a frown, “my biggest regret dying would be leaving our home with no protection.” 

“and our kingdom can provide just that.” kisaki adds. you turn your head to meet his stare, and it makes you all the more heated at how smug he looks. he crosses his arms over his chest, “and it appears no other kingdom is willing to marry into such a . . problematic family.” 

you fear you’ll chip your teeth if you grind them together any harsher. 

kazutora was a few months older than you, born out of wedlock and infidelity when your father had just come into power and decided your mother wasn’t enough. you’ve never cared for the details, aware that his cheating on the kingdom’s sweetheart was a tie broken between the citizens and their ruler. 

though most eventually forgave him, as your mother did when she had you, and kazutora was brought into the castle due to his mother not wanting him. your own passed away when you were seven.

you’ve never faulted him for it, never treated him as the black sheep that most do, never turned your nose as if the half commoner of him seeped out of him in oozes, but . . some did, and it boiled your blood knowing he was treated so differently when he was human all the same, royalty be damned. 

but it is not your place to comment on it, nor is it your place to defend him in such a cardinal conversation, although it doesn’t stop you from pushing back your chair to stand, eyes narrowed. 

“my family can do without such barbarous means, as can our kingdom.” 

you ignore the way both your father and kazutora call after you to sit as you walk away from your seat, only forced to a halt when a hand laces around your wrist as you pass the end of the table. 

“i am not an enemy you’d like on your doorstep,” kisaki states, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a threat, “i’d reconsider.” 

his eyes flick behind you, smile growing taught just as a sword is placed at his throat. you don’t need to look to know it’s baji. hanma draws his own sword, blade coming to rest at your knight's neck. 

baji doesn’t withdrawal despite your fathers demands for him to, and kisaki’s grip remains unrelenting as he leans forward, “i’d also advise your mutt to step away, if he knows what’s good for him.” 

kisaki’s gaze focuses on you, scanning over your features and darting to your lip when it finds itself worn between your teeth. you turn slightly to the man behind you, “baji.” your voice is soft, almost a warning as you speak, and it’s enough for him to scowl but let the blade drop before he sheathes it. 

hanma follows the movement slowly, grin forming on his face with a small giggle. 

“i will not marry you.” you settle instead, ripping your wrist from his grip and continuing your walk to the door. 

kazutora calls out for you, you can hear the scrape of his chair against the tiles as he pushes it back to stand, but you don’t stop until you’re in your chambers with baji following a few paces behind you. 

you shut the door before he has the chance to walk past the threshold (not that he would without your prompting, no matter how worried he is), though you’re more than aware of how he hovers at the door from the shadow that remains in the hall. 

you purse your lips, leaning against the frame with a frown. the stupid dress was constricting and you wanted nothing more than to have it discarded, but you’re almost positive someone will arrive to retrieve you; whether it be another guard or your brother, you’re uncertain. 

the answer is met with conversation you can barely pick up through the walls, kazutora, you’re able to deduce, talking to baji to confirm your whereabouts. 

“the king requests their presence,” kazutora says, and the way your father’s title slips from his tongue is almost bitter, hateful even, if you had to really put a name to it, “king kisaki and his court are set to leave soon.” 

baji doesn’t say anything that you can pick up on, kazutora’s statement followed by the sound of knocking on your door. you heave a sigh, hesitating for only a second before pulling it open in time to see baji’s fist reared back as if he were ready to rap it against the thick wood another time. 

“i don’t wish to,” you frown, shoulders slumping in a way that’s far too inappropriate for someone that’s spent the majority of their life meant to be prim and proper, “nor do i wish to see that rat of a-” 

kazutora clears his throat rather loudly, wide eyes darting to where the hall cuts around the corner. your frown deepens, straightening when hanma appears from the spot as if summoned with that same grin on his face as before. 

“it would be rude to keep my king waiting, would it not?” he steps forward until he stands in front of you, shoulders squared. 

part of you would feel far more intimidated than you do if your brother and knight weren’t at your side, “i have already stated that i will not have any relations with your king.” you argue. you think his smile grows with the click of his tongue. 

“your king has made it clear you have no choice in the matter, and my king has told me to bring you back to the dining hall by any means necessary,” he licks his teeth, leaning forward until his face is only inches from your own, “and your father has stated he shares that sentiment.” 

you feel baji step forward, ready to strike, but you hold a hand up to stop him, looking over to kazutora who refuses to meet your gaze, “is this true?”

your brother’s eyes remain trained to the carpet under his feet, but he nods regardless, “it appears so.” 

it leaves you allowing hanma to guide you back down the familiar halls, a hand at the small of your back as if it’d keep you from turning away while he pushes the doors to the dining hall open. 

neither kisaki nor your father have moved from their positions across from one another, though dinner has been served and they appear to be enjoying the feast laid out in front of them, having already picked through the pile of meat and vegetables. 

both turn at the sound of the door opening and you remain just beyond the threshold while kazutora brushes past you to return to his seat. only under hanma’s prompting, the slightest nudge to your back, do you move forward until you’ve returned to your spot next to your father. 

kisaki smiles at your arrival, leaning against his fist with his elbow on the table, “glad to see you join us again.” 

he looks like he’d eat you if you faltered, if you hesitated, if you allowed him to. you look to your lap to avoid his stare, nails biting in your fists at the feeling of helplessness from being back at where you started. 

you will not allow him to. 

[elysianhades]

tiny continuation

Finally finished and satisfied with the ending!

the ending to this drabble

“That sounds reasonable… there’s not much left anyway.” You mumble, tilting your head to the side as you think.

“I don’t know about you angel, but a day where we spent on the couch watching movies sounds very appealing.” Saeran smiles and reaches out to hold your hand with his free one. Both rakes are still held tightly in the other.

You let him lead you to lean against him, letting out a defeated strangled sigh -a sound that sounded very akin to a dying cat- as the image of doing nothing but cuddling floods your mind. Yesterday, Saeran did the laundry so you know that your favorite sweatshirt and comfy pants are there just calling your name. There also are a few movies that you had been meaning to show him and now would be the perfect time to do so.

It also looks like it’s going to rain later today, the clouds are that thick dark gray and the air smells heavier. Short but strong gusts of wind have been blowing through the yard as you both have been standing. Those kinds of winds that throw your hair in your eyes or move you around if you aren’t braced for them. When you looked out the window this morning it looked like it was going to be a nice day from start to finish. Even when breakfast was being made, the sun was peeking out over the horizon. You suppose you lost even more time when you were kissing Saeran in the kitchen. His lips always derail your mind and you lose track of time, but who was going to argue about you kissing your husband? No one that’s who. 

Still, you knew the moment that Saeran mentioned his wants for the day was the moment that your fate was sealed. Besides… cuddles on the couch means kisses and possibly even a nap. Saeran was the only person you could nap with and not feel like you’ve died when you inevitably wake up, you also are able to sleep when it’s time for bed which has never happened before. You blame it on how safe his arms feel and how calming the rise and fall of his chest are. Instant KO. Everytime. 

“Well if we want to beat the rain we should start now.” You grumble but make no moves towards the yard. 

“My love, if you keep pouting I’ll have no choice but to kiss you.” Saeran chuckles, bringing his hand up to touch your protruding lip. In response to this, you exaggerate your pout and bat your eyes at him expectantly. 

You feel his reaction before you see it. His chest hitches and shoulders shake before he snorts and starts laughing. His eyes are creased as he watches you, still laughing. It takes a couple breaths for him to settle back down, a few chuckles instead of full chested laughter. He hums and leans down to give you what you were waiting for. 

You can feel his smile as he presses his lips against yours. You hum happily, the rest of the stress melting away from your mind and your shoulders relax. Parting slowly to breathe, he chases after your lips. Pressing soft kisses against your lips, he finally lets you lean back and chuckles when he sees how pink your cheeks are. 

“Okay, okay. If we keep going nothing is going to get done. You’re dangerous.” You say, lightly pushing him away and grabbing a rake from his hand, flustered.

Saeran smiles as he sighs fondly and follows after you quickly. 

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

Jon wondered if this was how prisoners felt while being led to the gallows.

There was no more time. The plans were finalized, the rented van packed, the last preparations made. There was only the drive to be made, and then the Unknowing would begin, and he had very little illusion of his survival.

Certainly, he hoped he would. He had no real intention of dying. He should want to live. But if he didn't...

If he didn't, then Jon deeply hoped that Gerry's part of the plan didn't fail.

"This is a bad idea," his Assistant reminded him for the millionth time, pacing into his eyesight and out of it again. "I can still go with you."

"You're staying here," Jon refuted, again, for the millionth time. "I need you here, ready to step into my place, in case-"

"Just- fucking stop," Gerry snapped, voice breaking with an angry gesture. "Stop." His eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, and his expression betrayed how upset he actually was. Jon wasn't used to seeing such raw emotion on his face. It made his chest ache, a quiet part of him secretly grateful that there was still someone who cared about him. Or at least cared if he died horribly.

"We've already discussed this," Jon reminded him, getting up from the cot and standing before Gerry, halting his pacing. "I need you here. I can't do this unless I know you're here." Not out of danger, exactly, but Gerry was more than a match for Elias. If anyone could face him and walk away, it was Gerry.

And who was he to deny his...his closest friend the opportunity to burn things.

"Jon," Gerry said weakly, giving him such a look. It was still a surprise when his hands came up to frame his face, cupping his cheeks gently. Jon couldn't help but close his eyes and settle into his palms, feeling almost at peace for once. "Please. We can come up with something else, anything-"

Jon shook his head, raising his hands to hold Gerry's wrists. "There's no more time." God, he wished there was, there were still so many answers he needed, so many things he had to try to fix. So much more he wanted from Gerry- more cigarettes shared, more long nights talking, more time with him in the only quiet peaceful moments he'd had in the past few months. It was Gerry at the heart of all of them, and leaving him behind felt so unspeakably wrong. But he had no choice.

"Then you have to come back." Gerry's forehead pressed to his, heavily bearing down on him. Jon pressed back, lifting up on his toes to keep the pressure. "You hear me, Sims? You fucking come back. One way or another. I don't care how, you just...you have to come back to me."

"I-" Jon desperately wanted to swear he would. He wanted so badly to promise Gerry that he would return to him, that he would come back for more of what he shared with him, the barest touches of affection, both of them awkward and uncertain but desperate for it. He ached to say the words. But he couldn't.

Gerry knew he couldn't. Jon felt his shuddering sigh against his face, and thought he would pull away. Instead, he felt his head being tilted up, and knew what was about to happen just before Gerry's lips touched his. It had been building between them for weeks, and now it was happening. A kiss as inevitable as his approaching death.

It wasn't like before. It wasn't frantic, or angry, or rushed, even though Jon could feel the seconds ticking by, closer and closer to his departure. He leaned further into Gerry, who responded by pressing closer as well, one hand slipping back to tangle in his hair and cup the back of his head, holding him there as he kissed him deeply. It was everything Jon had dreamed of, in between the nightmares, tender and lingering and genuine, so incredibly real, that Jon almost forgot what was waiting for him.

"Jon?" Basira's voice echoed down the stairs. "It's time to go now."

Jon stopped the kiss with a pained noise, one that Gerry echoed just as painfully. "I'll be up in a minute," he called, not moving away from Gerry. He almost couldn't bring himself to, and Gerry seemed to also be unwilling to let him go, pulling him close to his chest and ducking his head to hold him even closer, his heart pounding under Jon's ear. His arms were locked so tightly around him, like he could prevent his leaving, but they both knew he had to go.

"I'll be here," Gerry finally whispered. "When you come back. I'll be here." When Jon finally pulled away, he saw Gerry's eyes were wet, staring at him desperately. "I'll wait for you, Jon."

His breath was trembling, throat painfully tight, but Jon pressed in for one last kiss, savoring it like a final meal. "I'll do everything I can to come back," he promised, and hoped it would be enough.

[yanderehsr]

Hi!! I hope i could request a yandere x oc if the event is still running

The oc name is Isabella, 19 years old and is a female, pronouns are she/her

Appearance: black hair over the shoulders, ocean blue pupils, 5'6 tall and she has xiangling-like body proportions, if she had a Genshin character’s face model it would be Navia's face

Personality: Friendly, understanding and caring , maybe a bit of Xiangling and Amber's personality

Backstory: Isabella was born in Mondstadt but later settled in Liyue, she is now a chef and a very close friend of Xiangling. Her parents were merchants, her family had a small shop for Isabella to do business and they went outside to trade. Gladys enjoyed stories about the gods and adeptus, moreover, she was once saved from a horde of Hilichurls by Xiao while delivering to Verr Goldet. Isabella after receiving the geo vision worked hard to protect herself, she always wanted to thank the adeptus who saved her too

Srry if this is confusing since English isn’t my first language 🧎🏼‍♀️

I would like the yandere to be Xiao or your choice! It would be fun to see :D

Thanks for the request, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Sorry if this wasn't as good as you hoped, wrote this when I was sick and my head hurt

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Xiao doesn't fall at once when he saves her but there is a strange oulling in his chest, he yearns for something yet he cannot figure out why. Without him noticing he begins to stalk Isabella, he lies to himself saying it's for her protection when in reality it is her that he desires.

Xiao admires her strength and ability to ptotect herself but concideres it useless when he is around to protect her, he doesn't even realise that his thoughts turn this dark, whenever he sees Xiangling interact with Isabella he feels like running his spear through her.

Xiao decides to kidnap Isabella as to protect her just like he did so long ago, she wanted to thank him right? Well thank him by staying by his side, thank him by not dying, thank him by submitting herself to him, he will turn her immortal as well so she can stay by his side forever.

"MINEMINEMINE, stay by MY side, please do so forever"

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 28 Chapter 28 | calculating embers⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You sat at the train station, waiting as the gentle hum of people bustling around you faded into the background.

You were perched on a worn-out bench, your back perfectly straight, hands resting on your knees, your focus was glued to your phone. Unread messages filled the screen—all from Bakugo.

You scrolled through, each one more insistent than the last, ranging from him pestering you about which hero agency you picked to him grumbling about his own choice.

Your lips twisted into a half-scowl as you suppressed a scoff. His relentless messaging reminded you all too much of your classmates, each of them hounding you with questions about your internship.

Monoma had been particularly persistent, practically begging you to consider interning with him at Fatgum's agency.

It wasn't that you didn't appreciate their interest; you did. In a way it fueled your God-complex. But the way they buzzed around you, their questions tinged with a mix of admiration and nervous curiosity, bordered on suffocating.

They treated you like some enigmatic force, one that they simultaneously revered and feared, and maybe rightfully so.

You allowed your thumb to hover over Bakugo's messages, considering replying, but the clearing of a throat drew your attention away.

You looked up, eyes meeting two different colors. Todoroki stood before you, his expression unreadable, his dual-colored eyes holding yours with a calm intensity. He nodded in acknowledgment, his lips twitching into what might've been an attempt at a smile.

"Akuma-san," he greeted, his voice as calm and collected as ever.

"Todoroki-kun," you replied, slipping your phone into your pocket without another glance. He took a hesitant step forward, his gaze shifting to the empty spot on the bench beside you.

"Mind if I sit?"

You shook your head slightly, a silent invitation.

Todoroki settled beside you, maintaining a respectful distance. The silence that settled between you was comfortable, yet charged with an underlying tension—a tension that had been there since the festival, since the day you'd left early, leaving a whirlwind of emotions in your wake.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, observing the way his brows knit together, as though he were debating something internally.

He shifted slightly, adjusting his posture before finally speaking. "My father told me you decided to intern with him," Todoroki said, his voice almost too casual, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction. You could feel his gaze on you, searching for any hint of your thoughts.

You blinked, letting a moment of silence hang in the air. Then you turned your head just enough to meet his eyes, your expression unreadable. "Did he now?" you replied, your tone deliberately vague.

Todoroki nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to read between the lines of your response. "Why?" he asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice. "Why pick his agency?"

You tilted your head slightly, a cryptic smile playing on your lips. "You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you, Todoroki-kun." His brows furrowed, frustration flashing in his eyes for just a second before he masked it with his usual calm demeanor.

Before Todoroki could respond, a sudden squeal echoed through the station, pulling both of your attention away.

You turned your head in unison, spotting Ashido skipping toward you, her eyes wide with excitement. "Akuma-san!" she called out, her voice breathless but full of energy as she skipped towards you, her grin bright and wide.

She skidded to a stop in front of the bench, her pink hair bouncing slightly as she caught her breath. "Hey! I knew I'd find you here!" she said, her excitement practically radiating off her. "So, where are you interning? I've been dying to know!"

You offered her a polite smile, nodding slightly but remaining silent. Ashido didn't seem to mind, continuing to chatter away with her usual enthusiasm. She went on about her own internship and the snacks she planned on bringing.

Before she could continue, Todoroki spoke, his voice cutting through her excited rambling. "Ashido-chan..."

Ashido blinked, her head snapping towards him as if just now realizing he was there. "Oh! Hi, Todoroki-kun!" she said, her grin widening. "How've you been? Which agency are you interning with?"

Todoroki's face remained passive, but there was something that darkened in his eyes, if it was even possible. "I'm interning with my father," he stated simply.

Mina blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment before she recovered. "Oh... right! Endeavor's agency. That's... um, that's really cool," she said, her voice a bit more cautious, clearly unsure how to react.

Before the conversation could continue, Asui's calm tone broke through the chatter.. "Ribbit, there you are, Mina." She approached the group, her large eyes blinking at the sight of you and Todoroki. "Our train will be arriving soon," she added, her gaze shifting to you and Todoroki. "Hello, Akuma-san. Todoroki. It's a surprise to see you two here."

Ashido perked up, nodding vigorously. "Yeah! I was just saying the same thing! But then Todoroki told me he's interning with his dad, and I—"

A loud chime echoed through the station, followed by a calm, automated announcement: "The train to Shinjuku is now approaching the platform. Please stand behind the yellow line."

You and Todoroki stood up from the bench, the movement almost synchronized.

Ashido pouted, her lips curving downward as she glanced at the train. "Ah, man!" she whined, looking at you with a hint of disappointment. "I was really hoping you'd be interning somewhere near me. I'm gonna miss you, Akuma-san!"

You kept your expression smooth, hiding the small bud of annoyance that threatened to show. Ashido's enthusiasm was beginning to fray your patience.

You gave her a soft smile, your tone gentle as you spoke. "I'll miss you too, Ashido-chan. But don't worry, I'm sure you and Asui-chan will do amazing things at your agency. I'll be cheering for you both."

Ashido's eyes widened slightly, her cheeks tinting pink as she glanced at Asui, who also blinked, her own cheeks darkening a shade. Asui gave a small nod, her voice a bit quieter. "Thank you, Akuma-san. That... means a lot. Ribbit."

Ashido beamed, preening under your words as she stood up. "Alrighty then! We should get going, Tsu!" she said, linking her arm with Asui's and giving you one last wave. "See you guys soon! Don't forget to text me, Akuma-san!"

You returned the wave, watching as the two of them headed off, Ashido's bubbly energy contrasting with Asui's calm demeanor.

You exhaled softly, relieved as the station quieted down once more. You turned back to Todoroki, who had been silently observing the entire exchange. He gave you a small nod before walking towards the approaching train.

You mirrored his movement, brushing off your skirt, following right behind him.

The train arrived with a soft screech, the doors sliding open to reveal an almost empty interior.

You stepped in, Todoroki close behind, and both of you found seats across from each other. The carriage was mostly vacant, save for a few scattered passengers who were either engrossed in their phones or dozing off against the windows.

You settled into your seat, the gentle rocking of the train as it started to move providing a calming rhythm. Todoroki looked at you, his expression still thoughtful, as if he were trying to piece together something in his mind.

"You know, Akuma-san, you seem to have a way with people," he began, his gaze not leaving you.

You met his eyes briefly, your expression still. "Is that so?" you hummed, noncommittal, before turning your attention back to the window.

Todoroki bristled slightly at your dismissive response, his lips pressing into a thin line. He couldn't help but notice the difference—how you weren't as distant with others as you were with him. Your interaction with Ashido and Asui had been warm, almost affectionate. It made the chill in your words towards him feel all the more biting.

He cleared his throat, determined to try again. "At the sports festival..." he started, pausing as if choosing his words carefully. "You threw the match between Tokoyami-kun on purpose, didn't you?"

Your eyes shot over to him, narrowing slightly, and for a moment, the quiet rattling of the train seemed to fade into the background. Internally, your thoughts paused, considering his words. Of course, he'd noticed. It wasn't something a competitor like Todoroki would overlook. Still, the fact that he was so concerned, that he saw through it...

"Why does it matter?" you responded, your tone even, eyes narrowing as you studied his reaction.

He blinked, visibly taken aback by your bluntness, but he didn't look away. "Because I don't understand you," he said. "You're strong. Seemingly stronger than most of us. You could have gone further in that tournament, maybe even won. But you threw it away. I just... I want to understand why."

You watched him for a moment, your gaze drifting over his face. There was something earnest in his eyes—a rawness that was rare for Todoroki. He wasn't asking out of mere curiosity; it was deeper than that. He wanted to understand you in a way that others hadn't dared; even if it meant peeling back layers formed to protect the rest of the world from your insanity.

You allowed a small smile to grace your lips, a knowing expression that only deepened his confusion. "I'm not here to prove anything," you replied, your voice almost a whisper. "Not to the teachers, not to the audience, and definitely not to the others in Class 1-A or B. I don't need to win to know my capabilities."

Todoroki frowned, his lips parting as if to argue, but he hesitated. Instead, he watched you, searching for something in your eyes. Maybe an answer he could understand, maybe a glimpse of what lay beneath your cool demeanor.

"So... you threw the match... just because?" he finally asked, his voice trailing off, almost disbelieving.

"A great question that deserves a great answer," you murmured, turning away, looking back out the window. "Unfortunately for you, I have my reasons. Reasons you wouldn't understand. Not yet."

Silence settled between you again, thicker this time, filled with unsaid words and unanswered questions. Todoroki sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if accepting that he wouldn't get the answers he was seeking today.

You shifted slightly, turning your body away from him, signaling the end of the conversation. Your thoughts drifted as you stared out the window, the scenery blurring past.

Not only was Todoroki nosy—just as annoying as any other pests that had clung to you lately—but you knew you'd have to keep an eye on him. Not for the same reasons as Midoriya, but because Todoroki might become an issue later on. He was too observant, too willing to dig deeper.

And someone like that could be a problem if they ever decided you were worth investigating.

☆

☆

The train pulled into Shinjuku City Station with a gentle lurch, the automated announcement chiming softly overhead. You and Todoroki stepped onto the platform, the brisk air tinged with the scent of urban life—exhaust fumes mingled with the faint aroma of street food vendors setting up for the day.

The city pulsed with energy, a labyrinth of towering skyscrapers casting long shadows across the bustling streets below. Neon signs flickered even in daylight, advertising everything from hero memorabilia to the latest technological gadgets.

Amidst the throng of pedestrians, pro heroes moved with purpose, their distinctive costumes adding splashes of color to the sea of suits and casual attire.

As you navigated through the crowds alongside Todoroki, your thoughts drifted to the days ahead. Interning with Endeavor promised to be... enlightening, if nothing else. The No. 2 hero was renowned not just for his formidable power but also for his relentless drive and, as some whispered, his overbearing demeanor.

You arrived at the towering building that housed Endeavor's agency—a sleek monolith of glass and steel that seemed to pierce the very clouds. The facade was imposing, reflecting the sky in a way that made the structure appear both part of the city and entirely separate from it.

The emblem of a flaming "E" adorned the entrance, leaving no doubt as to who commanded this domain.

Stepping inside, the atmosphere shifted. The lobby was expansive, bathed in warm hues of red and orange that mimicked the flicker of flames. Assistants and sidekicks moved efficiently through the space, their expressions focused and serious.

The air was charged with a sense of urgency, as if every second wasted was an affront to productivity. A tall woman with sharp features and a headset approached.

"Todoroki Shoto, Akuma ____?" she inquired briskly.

"Yes," Todoroki replied.

"Follow me. Endeavor is expecting you."

You exchanged a brief glance with Todoroki before proceeding down a corridor lined with portraits of Endeavor in various heroic poses—defeating villains, saving civilians, always with an intense glare that seemed to challenge anyone who looked upon it.

Overcompensating much? you mused silently, a hint of a smirk tugging at your lips. The sheer number of self-aggrandizing images bordered on the absurd, each one more ostentatious than the last. It was as if he needed constant reminders of his own greatness, plastered across every available surface.

The assistant led you to a set of imposing double doors. "He's inside," she said before promptly turning on her heel and walking away.

Todoroki pushed the doors open without hesitation, and you followed suit. The room beyond was a vast office that doubled as a command center. Large screens displayed news feeds, maps, and live reports of incidents across the city. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Hosu, the city stretching out like a concrete jungle beneath a cloudy sky.

At the center of it all stood Endeavor, his broad back turned to you as he surveyed the cityscape.

Even without seeing his face, there was an intensity that radiated from him—an aura of barely contained power, of ambition that bordered on obsession. His shoulders were broad, his stance rigid, and the air around him seemed to hum with heat.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, taking in the figure before you, but quickly relaxed your expression before he could see. He clearly wanted to project the image of absolute control, of someone who had conquered all challenges before him. But to you, it felt like he was compensating for something—trying too hard to make sure everyone knew just how strong, how capable he was.

It was almost pathetic, in a way.

Endeavor finally turned to face you and Todoroki, his fiery mustache and stern eyes immediately commanding attention.

His towering frame was even more imposing in person, clad in his signature hero costume—dark blue with fiery accents that seemed to flicker with their own inner light. The flames that wreathed his shoulders and face burned steadily, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the coldness in his eyes when he finally turned to face you.

You couldn't help but notice the faint resemblance between him and Todoroki—the same sharp features, the same piercing gaze. But where Todoroki's eyes held a quiet, conflicted determination, Endeavor's were filled with something harsher, a fire that seemed to burn not just for power but for something more—something darker.

"You're late," he stated flatly, his deep voice resonating through the room.

"We arrived at the scheduled time," Todoroki replied, his tone neutral.

Endeavor's gaze swept over you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Akuma ____. Your performance at the Sports Festival was adequate."

"Thank you," you replied evenly, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He grunted, turning his attention back to the screens. "I don't tolerate mediocrity. If you're here to waste my time, you can leave now."

"Rest assured, I have no intention of wasting anyone's time," you responded, a subtle edge to your voice.

Endeavor glanced over his shoulder at you, a flicker of something—approval, perhaps—crossing his features before it vanished beneath his stoic facade. "We'll see. Let's get started. You're here to learn, and I won't tolerate anything less than absolute effort."

As he spoke, you found yourself tuning out the specifics of his words, your attention more focused on the man himself.

It was clear he thrived on control—needed it, even. His presence, the decor, the countless portraits—it all screamed a desperate need to assert his dominance.

It was almost humorous to think that someone like him believed he had the true strength to wield control.

History had shown that those who sought power for power's sake always faltered when given even a taste of what real control was. They all crumbled, lost sight of their goals, and fell victim to their own ambition.

But you... you were different. You were the only one truly capable of handling it, of seeing beyond mere dominance and understanding what real power entailed. You knew how to wield it without falling apart, without losing yourself to it.

Power was not just about forcing others to bend to your will—it was about understanding the very threads that connected people, about manipulating those threads without them even realizing.

It was about subtlety, precision, and having the patience that someone like Endeavor could never hope to possess.

He was fire—bright, hot, consuming everything in its path. But fire burned out eventually, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake.

You were different. You were the one who could endure, who could see through the flames and remain standing when everything else had turned to dust.

Your gaze shifted back to Endeavor as he continued speaking, his voice a commanding presence in the room. He turned fully to face you and Todoroki, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Both of you, get changed into your hero costumes."

You raised an eyebrow at the abrupt command but kept your thoughts to yourself. Why was he having both of you change so soon? The day had only just begun, and it wasn't like you were about to head into action immediately.

Still, you held your tongue, opting instead to glance at Todoroki, who appeared thoughtful rather than passive. It was rare for him to question anything when it came to his father, but perhaps today was different.

Todoroki gave a small nod before speaking up, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "Why do we need to change now?"

Endeavor huffed, his eyes narrowing slightly, the flames on his shoulders flickering with what seemed like irritation. "Perfection doesn't happen by chance, Shoto. You need to be ready at all times. There is no room for error, no moment where you aren't prepared for what might come next."

You watched the interaction with mild interest, a smirk tugging at your lips. His answer was so... predictable. Endeavor was all about appearances, about pushing forward, making sure everyone saw him as the ultimate hero.

The man didn't understand the concept of subtly or flexibility—just brute force, pushing until something gave way.

Todoroki didn't respond, simply giving a curt nod before turning towards you. You mirrored his movement, your expression returning to one of neutrality.

You knew what this was—a display, a reminder of who was in charge. And while you had no intention of challenging that, at least not yet, it amused you to watch Endeavor's attempts to maintain control over everything and everyone around him.

You both turned to leave the room, the door closing behind you with a solid thud. As you made your way down the corridor, you couldn't help but shake your head slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping your lips.

All these people—Endeavor, Todoroki, Bakugo, even Midoriya—they thought they knew what it meant to be strong, to have control. But none of them had the slightest idea.

You had always been the one in control, the puppet master weaving every thread into the intricate dance that suited your needs. And it amused you—how unaware they were of the fragility of their so-called power.

But you knew better. You knew that sometimes, a gentle tug at the right moment could unravel everything.

A faint smirk touched your lips as you walked into the changing room. You could almost hear the echoes of your past life, reminders of the control you once wielded with such ease.

Back then, your power was undeniable, unquestioned.

You were a force of nature, bending everyone to your whims with a smile that promised everything and delivered only what served you.

This life was no different—only the setting had changed, and the players had different faces.

They were all just players in a game they didn't fully understand, and you... you were the one holding the strings.

☆

☆

Days passed since your initial introduction to Endeavor's agency, and to your surprise, interning under the No. 2 hero had proven to be unexpectedly useful.

Each morning began before dawn, the sun barely cresting the horizon as you and Todoroki engaged in rigorous exercises designed to push you to your limits. Endeavor demanded perfection, his critiques sharp and unyielding, yet you found the challenge invigorating.

Endeavor's agency was a well-oiled machine, driven by the same kind of relentless pursuit of efficiency that seemed to define the man himself. And while the hero's methods were crude—lacking the elegance you appreciated—there was value to be found in his relentless determination.

Endeavor's strict, almost militant approach also gave you insights into how he manipulated the perception of strength, forcing his ideals upon others, especially Todoroki.

You could see why Todoroki had that quiet turmoil in his eyes. It was interesting—watching them, father and son, dance around each other with their cold silences and unspoken resentments.

It was like observing a failed experiment, one where control had been attempted through brute force rather than finesse. Watching them, you were reminded again why your way was superior.

Force bred resistance. True power was in knowing exactly when to push, and when to pull back.

More than that, Endeavor's agency exposed you to the inner workings of the hero world—its flaws, its weaknesses.

You saw the cracks beneath the polished exterior. Pro-heroes who moved with arrogance, certain of their invincibility. Sidekicks who desperately tried to keep up, to prove themselves, but were ultimately replaceable in the grand scheme.

You saw the way the public's expectations shaped actions, twisted motivations until the heroes were little more than actors on a stage, desperately trying to keep up appearances.

It was all so... exploitable.

Such valuable information. The kind that could be used to your advantage later—leverage, should the need ever arise.

In quiet moments, you couldn't help but draw parallels to memories that felt both distant and intimately familiar. It reminded you of your past life as Makima, how every smile, every carefully chosen word had been a tool, a way to ensure everyone fell neatly in line with your plans.

Back then, people didn't even realize they were being played until it was too late, and now was no different. Here, in this new life, you could feel that same potential. That same delicious thrill of having everyone move according to your design.

It was almost funny—Endeavor, with all his bluster and flame, thought he was in control. But every order he barked, every training exercise he demanded, only added to your understanding, your knowledge. And knowledge, after all, was power.

True power.

You caught glimpses of Todoroki watching you during training sessions, his gaze lingering longer than it should, as if trying to decipher what lay beneath the surface.

You knew he was curious, suspicious even. He was no fool, and he could tell there was more to you than met the eye. But that was fine. Let him wonder. Let him try to piece together the puzzle.

It would only serve to pull him deeper into your web, to make him more predictable.

A/N: oh wow, not me having to split into 2 parts because it was like 10-12k words altogether 💀💀

[v3nusxsky]

As requested I moved it over here, from the piece with Emilybactually dying. This could be a part two or a stand alone piece. Fully up to you.

Using the idea of Emily going into hiding in season 5-6, and how that would effect her wife in this case. Then with Emily returning either sooner and dealling with the aftermath of a suicide or an attempted one. With JJ likley having to reveal the news to Emily. Hopfully we go down the attempted route (so it can be angst with a happy end) , it could involve Y/n joining Emily in Paris. That could be interesting to play out.

Can't live without you

*Authors note~ a part two for my people who wish to feel the angst and more of me writing while in the car*

Trigger Warnings~ angsty mentions of "death"suicide

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

The muffled voices and irritating beeping was agitating you. If this was heaven then you'd rather deal with the devil, perhaps it would be less annoying there. You want to find your Emily but the with everything being black it was hard to do so. Yet you felt a pull, preventing you from surrendering to the darkness, dragging you back to the land of the living. That's where your bleary eyes caught sight of white walls and blonde hair, the voice of your best friend, JJ pleading with you to come back now.

You gave her hand a little squeeze to indicate your unsuccessful attempt. "Water?" You managed to croak out gaining the blonde's attention. After she gave you some water so you didn't feel quite so horrid now. "Why" JJ whimpered and you knew exactly what she was referring too. "Jay I can't live without her" you sobbed finally breaking down in the hospital bed as the fact you'd have to live on without your Emily sunk in.

That was four months ago, you hadn't progressed much since then, your depression only dragging you in deeper to its lonely pits of misery. That's why Hotch sent JJ on a case overseas, her work as communications liaison made her the only suitable agent for the case. Paris was her destination but she knew why she was here and truthfully it scared her more than any case could. It was too soon for one, bringing Emily back created an air of danger but also keeping you apart wasn't something that could continue any longer.

They met in a cafe, ironically the cafe that was where the blonde handed over the fake id for her. But now you were the topic of conversation. Emily wanted to know everything about everybody, she missed her family so much. A few peoples stories broke her heart, like morgans and Reid and of course she knew Garcia would have Serigo. But yours? Well she felt worse than when she coded in the ambulance. You'd actually tried to take your life by her grave. The story similar to Romeo and Juliet.

JJ knew there was no keeping Emily in Paris after delivering that news but what she wasn't expecting was for her to be scared. Truth was, she'd changed so much with her near death experience and what if you felt differently about her now. What if the team resented her for almost dying? Could Derek ever forgive her? But little did Emily know JJ was feeling similar. She didn't want to deal with the team hating her for keeping such a secret. It wasn't as if she had a choice and you were so broken by this that she was sure you'd never forgive her now.

The plane ride was silent, both women in thought when Hotch phoned. The plan changed, Doyle made an escape and therefore it was deemed no longer safe for Emily or you. Yes Doyle wanted you too. After all you managed to settle down with Emily where he failed. So the team needed to be smart about this. Another death would be too suspicious so the only sensible option was for you and Emily to flee the country again. But first the team would be told this time so it wouldn't be so bad in the fallout.

Being called to the round table meant one thing. A case. And truly you didn't have the energy for another right now. You wanted to go home to your bed where Emily's jumper lay and wallow. It was the only time you felt close to her since her tragic death. Her clothes, even though they no longer smell like her, but they were all you had left and there was no way you'd even be here after your multiple attempts to end your life without them. Every time one of the team caught you they would hand over one of her shirts or hoodies and hold you while you cried in ver how unfair this is.

"As you all know, Doyle is after y/n. We decided on a protective measure for you however I made a decision four months ago that effected all of you. It was necessary and I take the full responsibility" Hotch stated in his usual way of giving absolutely nothing away. Nothing made since until you heard "hi sweetheart" in a voice that could only be hers. No amount of artificial intelligence could clone her. "Em?" You gasped shell shocked to see your love by the blonde, frozen stiff as if it was a dream you'd awaken from any second now. You'd had them before, ones where you saw her and heard her but couldn't touch her anymore.

When it hit you it hit hard, you ran up to Hotch and started to weakly hit against his chest, "you lied! You fucking lied!" You sobbed out before weakly collapsing against the floor crying uncontrollably. You missed her so much, grieving her death only for it to be fake. That much was proved when the raven head had hugged and apologised to everyone and finally made her way to you, scooping you off the ground and holding you in the way she would when you had a panic attack. "Shh sweetheart I know. I know, I missed you so much Angel. But I really need you to listen to the plan okay?" She murmured to you kissing your head as her body rocked soothingly back and forth.

"No! No you can't leave me! No not again. No!" You volume raising the more that sunk in, "I just got you back" you whimpered causing JJ to come closer in an attempt to comfort you. "Get the fuck away from me!" You almost growled, "I can't stand you right now" you spat at the blonde and Hotch before snuggling into your undead lover. Hotch explained the plan and reasons why and again apologised for having to lie but it was for Emily's safety. This time you would leave with Emily, for your safety and hers. When the team caught Doyle you could return home to your family. But for now you and Emily were shipped off to Paris once more with false identities to heal and grow from this. If it's possible for you two to repair the hurt you both sustained.

Word count~ 1205

[herearedragons]

Cold Water (chapter 6: Saman: The Flood - Part 1)

AO3 | chapter 1 | next chapter

Spoiler warning: spoilers for The White March.

When they came down to that cave, they had a plan.

Devil’s body was made of metal. She didn’t need to breathe, and could withstand more pressure than a living body; with the right spells cast on her and with Abydon’s hammer, they figured she’d be able to dig her way out after causing the cave-in. They’d fight their way to the crystal, then leave her there and wait for her to work her way back to the surface.

All things considered, it was a good plan; the best they could come up with on the spot, using only what they’ve brought in with them. They all agreed on it.

Problem was, there was this feeling of dread that settled somewhere between Edér's stomach and his spine, and would not go away; if anything, it got worse the deeper in they went. And the worse it got, the more it seemed to him that some part of their plan was bound to go wrong.

You were marked by the Eyeless for a reason, Ondra said to Selene. It would be better for all if the things you have seen were forgotten.

What would he do if Eothas told him he was better off dead?

Eothas wouldn’t. Well, no, Eothas kind of did, if Waidwen really was Eothas; had they met on the battlefield, Waidwen would have killed him. Or would he? He didn’t kill Woden. Didn’t do him any good, in the end, but - gods damn it, not the point.

Suppose it did happen. Suppose Eothas did tell him that. What then?

The tunnel ended before Edèr could figure out an answer to that question. Then there was a kraken to fight, and having to really focus on not dying pushed everything else out of his mind for a while.

But then the kraken was dead, and everything was really quiet, and Selene went up to the crystal and stood still for a long moment, just looking at it.

He caught a glimpse of her face and knew that it wasn’t her doing her Watcher thing.

She was thinking about it.

That wasn’t the plan. It was never going to be the plan, and it sure wouldn’t be the plan now, when they’d already figured out a workaround with Devil and the hammer and magic and everything else.

So he cleared his throat and turned around to the others, and said, a little too loud:

“So, Durance, you’re gonna cast something, right?”

Devil made a noise like a cat spitting inside of a metal bucket.

“Letting the priest put a hand on me - I almost like getting crushed better.”

“That can be arranged,” Durance growled; immediately, Devil went again:

“Or maybe we just leave you with the hammer. See how you like some nice cold water for them old burns - ”

A deep, rumbling tremor under their feet drowned out the rest of her words and whatever Durance started saying in turn.

The walls shook. The kraken’s corpse jiggled in the water in a way that would have been really funny if you weren’t scared shitless that the ceiling was about to come down, and then it just - sank, as if something pulled it back down into the deep part of the pool.

Turns out, that was exactly what happened. The moment the last of the kraken was gone, other things took its place: tentacles made of water, way more of them than there were in that small pool near the entrance, and way bigger.

Ondra’s Hair lined the walls of the cavern, cutting off the exits. 

They were all going to die.

Selene backed away from the crystal when the arguing started; now, the Hair forced her to join the rest of them in a little panicked clump as the living walls closed in.

She called out:

“What are you doing? ”

And Ondra said:

My insolent child.

Every time you were given a choice, you chose to

D  E   F   Y       M   E   .

A thin strand of Ondra’s Hair lashed towards their group; Devil caught it with a knife, and it dissolved back into water.

Selene dropped her bow and drew her sword; Durance gripped his staff tighter; Maneha looked at Abydon’s hammer in her hands like she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Selene’s head whipped to look at her, and she must have been saying something with her mind, because, suddenly, Maneha nodded and held the hammer out to her.

Another tendril of water came; Edèr broke it with his shield and had a half-thought of is there really no other way before the voice of a god drowned out all of his thoughts again.

You wish to be like him, even though that is not your nature.

Your nature is mine.

Your nature is oblivion.

You do not deserve a choice.

You will learn

to

L  E  T      G   O

And all of the tentacles came crashing down on them like so many waves, and the world filled with water.

[starzzoey]

The Contract

"You can't seriously expect us to sign this, making my wife work 4 years for you in one of your nightclubs." Arthur was furious, this was not how their honeymoon was supposed to go. They were meant to be relaxing by the pool, not being pressured to sign a contract to avoid prison time for false drug charges. Yet here they were in the large Mansion of a man calling himself El Rey or The King in english, paper and pen in front of them. "Well, if you want to go back to England and not spend time in a Mexican prison, I do expect you to sign it. Though don't worry, you can still visit her once I deem she has settled in. Now what will it be." El Rey took a puff of his Cigar as he responded to Arthur. His steely and serious gaze resting on the two honeymooners. Feeling there was no choice and much to Arthurs shock, Sarah took the pen and signed her name at the bottom of the contract. El Rey simply smiled as he pressed a button under his desk and two of his men came in. "Boys, please escort this gentlemen out, I believe he has a plane back to England to catch. Also tell the others to not disturb, His wife and I have a contract to discuss."

6 months later and Arthur returned to Mexico after recieving an envelope with a plane ticket and hotel info from El Rey. When he touched down, one of El Rey's men came to pick him up, they gave him enough time to freshen up in his room before being driven to one of El Rey's clubs La Rosa Rosa, The Pink Rose. When Arthur entered he was not expecting Sarah to be working in a place like this. He thought she'd be put to work in a regular nightclub but no this was your run of the mill strip club. He approached the bar praying that she was just a bartender or waitress but his heart sank when she was not the one serving him. So he resigned himself to ordering a Modelo and turned his attention to the stage. Waiting to see his wife. It took about 20 minutes but then she appeared. However his jaw just dropped. Announced to the stage as Sofia Cruz, The pale blonde was gone in her place was a tanned beauty with dyed black hair, enhanced lips and enhanced tits. El Rey completely altered her appearance to fit a more hispanic look. She owned the stage, oozing sensuality as she worked the pole. Sarah was always a quick learner but she looked like she had been doing this her whole adult life. As the Enrique Iglesias song she was dancing to finished and her 10 minute set ended, Arthur turned to the bartender to get a private dance with her. Not wanting to argue why, he chose the gringo compared to a true Mexican babe, The Bartender called Sarah over in spanish. "Sofia, este hombre blanco quiere un baile privado contigo!" Despite having barely any spanish fluency before, Sarah or rather Sofia saunted over, for a split second her sensual and sexual demenour dropped when she saw it was Arthur before quickly returning and guiding him to a private booth. "Private dances only last half an hour, so best say what we want to say fast. El Rey, has been pushing me hard, putting me through rigourous surgeries and training. I can't even speak any english unless the person who got a private dance speaks it. Which given the club is never until you." Just from her voice Arthur could tell, the 6 months had taken a toll, she was already starting to lose her english accent in place of a mexican one. The conversation they had consisted of asking how she was doing and if they treated her well. Sarah described her life under El Rey as living with a golden chain and collar around her neck. A prisoner kept in line under El Rey's harsh watch. Arthur tried to kiss his wife but Sarah stopped him. As much as she wanted to do the same, she knew they were being watched and didn't want either of them to get in trouble. She simply just continued to give Arthur the same sensual lap dance she gave every client who paid for a private dance with her. 30 minutes later, the dance was over and a security guard popped his head in the room "Sofía, el jefe te quiere en su oficina ahora. (Sofia, the boss wants you in his office now.)" and with that Sarah now Sofia left. Leaving Arthur to head back to his hotel room before heading back on a plane the next morning.

After that night, Arthur waited eagerly for another letter to come through the post with another set of plane tickets and hotel info but nothing came. At least not for another 3 years and 5 months. 1 week before the contract was officially over, Arthur got onto the plane back to Mexico and got into the car ready to be taken to the hotel and head to the club. However that was not where they going. Instead they went to the mansion where it all started, the Home of El Rey himself. Confused why he was brought here, he was greeted by the 50 something man in a white suit that reeked of cigar smoke and led into his office. "Cigar? Tequilla?" El Rey offfered both but Arthur only accepted the tequilla. "Why did you bring me here and not the club?" Arthur asked, no demanded. "Patience Arthur, I simply brought you here to explain that the contract has changed. I have simply grown to attached and invested too much into Sofia to let her just head off back to England." El Rey was calm as he spoke, puffing cigar smoke into the air. "That is not what the contract said, after 4 years Sarah would be done and heading back to England." Arthur was getting quite irate at El Rey's attitude and disregard to the contract. "I am the creator of said contract and I can change it how I want. I am the one with the money and power here not you." El Rey raised his voice and slammed his fist onto the desk. "Besides Sofia has changed too much to return to her old life. Don't believe me, see for yourself." El Rey called for the guards to call in Sofia. Arthur was confused, Sofia was here? However that confusion turned to shock when he saw Sarah. She had changed even more in the 3 and a half years since they last saw each other, if he didn't even know it was her, he would have just thought she was Mexican. There was no trace of the caucasian sarah there was only Sofia. She had more of a tan and her ass and thighs were much thicker. At least her hair was back to blonde albeit it was from dying her black hair blonde rather than just letting the black dye fade and return to her natural colour. "Sarah, what have they done to you. You look unrecognisable." Arthur tried to talk with her but he was just ignored as she sauntered her way over to El Rey before sensually sitting on his lap, he looked over to El Rey who had a rather sadistic smile on his face. "I'm afraid Sofia here will not respond to you. You see, she can only speak and understand spanish now. Oh and as you can see, even if she did understand you, she and I have grown rather... Attached." El Rey made sure to emphasise the name Sofia as he spoke. Arthur couldn't believe what he was seeing as El Rey cupped Sofia's ass and seeing her lovingly cuddle up to him. Anger grew inside of him and he raised his voice towards the man who caused him heartache. That raised voice would be his downfall. El Rey called his men into the room and ordered Arthur to be escorted out of his mansion. Meanwhile he called the police and informed them of a problem he was having. 3 months later and Arthur was stuck serving a 10 year sentence on drug smuggling charges that were falsified by El Rey and the local police which El Rey bribed. A warden came up to his cell and gave him a letter, in it it read: "Dear Arthur, You should not have not have raised your voice at me those months ago. I simply wished for you to attend mine and Sofia's wedding but you just so had to ruin it. On the next visitation day, I shall be there, be a good boy and I shall convince them to let you go free with the condition you join me back at the mansion for a discussion. In the meantime please do enjoy these photos of Sofia and I enjoying our wedding night. I do so hope you enjoy the lingerie and ring I got her. Regards, Antonio 'El Rey' Reyes" ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hope you enjoyed this story is based on Alison Takes the deal by HP1920 over on Literotica be sure to check that out

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty three

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

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september 4, 2018 los angeles, california orion 

Being alive right now is exhausting. If I could, I’d sleep 10 hours every night, but the fact is, I wake up every few hours to throw up or with intense body aches that make it impossible to lay comfortably. It’s not comfortable to do anything, but it’s far too uncomfortable to sleep. 

My body is at war with itself, or, I guess, with the chemotherapy drugs coursing through my veins. Just like I’m fighting for my life, my body itself is at battle, too. It’s an awful feeling to know that even my organs are working against me now, on top of dealing with being in a temporary long distance relationship. The blood coursing through my veins contains the evidence of my impending death, and the poison mixing with it is there to make my life just a little bit longer, but far more painful.

Sometimes I wonder if going through with treatment even matters. 

Leukemia is a death sentence. There’s no way to sugarcoat it. Is it worth feeling like pure shit every day until I die? How much better is my life if all that I’m doing to extend it is also making me feel worse?

My mind is at war with itself too. 

I can’t figure out whether I’m excited for or dreading the day that Calum and I reunite in San Diego. I am looking forward to having him as a support system in everything after dealing with this without him for over a month now. I am looking forward to getting to spend time with my favorite human being on this planet. I am looking forward to seeing his smile and smelling his cologne and holding his hand and watching him perform and hugging him as tight as I can.

I’m not looking forward to crushing him with the fact that I’ve been lying to him, by omission, about my life. I dread the look on his face when I tell him that I have cancer. I dread having to hear him fall apart while the fact that I’m dying settles in. Calum is going to be devastated, just like everyone else in my life has been. He’s going to be generally upset with me for not telling him. He’s going to wish I’d told him as soon as I’d found out and he’s going to go into recluse mode, mulling all the facts over in silence and battling all of his feelings about the news. 

There’s still a piece of me that wants to call him right now and beg him to come home. What wouldn’t I give to have him here right now? In some alternate universe, he’d be taking care of me 24/7, coming with me to every chemo appointment and bringing me fresh water whenever I ask. He’d be up with me at all hours, holding my hair back while I vomit for the twelfth time each day. He’d have saltine crackers on autoship to arrive every few days. I wouldn’t have to do anything for myself and I wouldn’t have to do anything alone.

That’s one of the worst parts. While I’m in emotional turmoil with my choice not to tell Calum and him on tour and my body is processing both cancer and poison, I feel so alone. 

Emelia helps. My family helps. Macy helps. People are showing up for me constantly, consistently, but the majority of my time is still alone. I wish I could talk about everything and have someone with me just to keep me company, but I can’t. I’m alone. I’m lonely. I’m dying. I’m depressed. I feel awful, mentally and physically. All I want is Calum, but everything I’ve done for the past month has been putting space between myself and him.

I’ve fucked myself over, plain and simple. 

Today is my final round of chemo for this cycle, and while I know I’ll still feel like pure shit for a few weeks, it’s nice to have reached this mile marker. 

I take my shower before I get ready to head to the hospital. I woke up at 5 am, puking a few times before giving up on trying to go back to bed. I took a long shower, standing under the near-boiling hot water for almost an hour. It was nice to feel something, even if it was the sensation of almost burning my skin with water. 

Then my heart felt like the most fragile scrap of paper when I got dressed.

I’d gone to Calum’s side of the closet, as I have almost every day since he left, to grab a hoodie. It’s a random Liverpool football hoodie that he’s probably worn a grand total of two times in my presence, but it’s clean and it’s thick and cozy, so it meets my criteria. It doesn't smell like him, but it's not hard to imagine that it does. I can pretend it smells of faint cigarettes, coffee, pine needles, and honey: everything that reminds me of him.

As I grab the hoodie from his shelf of things, a piece of paper falls to the floor. Apparently it was hidden in the folds of the worn-out green cotton. I recognize Calum’s favorite blue pen scribbled on a scrap of notebook paper and pick up the note instantly.

O,I guess you’ve worked your way down the stack of hoodies. I don’t know how long it’s taken you to get to this point, but know that that means we’re that much closer to being able to be skin to skin, hand in hand, eye to eye, and heart to heart. 

I know it’s hard to believe, since I’m writing this before I leave, but I swear to you: I miss you so much. I haven’t even left and I already miss you.

Fuck, how pathetic am I? Do you see my tearstains?

I am irrevocably and inconsolably in love with you. I will miss you any second of any minute we spend apart. I can only imagine — dread — how much I will be missing you by the time you read this.

I know hardly any of this will be news to you, but I can’t leave without having pieces of my love for you buried around our home. I’m guessing this will be the first you find, but hopefully you’ll find the others soon.

Can’t promise the others won’t be as sappy as this. Just need you to know just how much I miss you.

I am infinitely yours. With all my goddamn love,Cal.

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