#learn polish you fools

[wateredwizard]

Finished my chalkboard wardrobe door.

My and my friend's artistic vibes to try it out

And a little sussy bakæ

[ectoregression]

hehehehhe (he accidentally slipped in public)

[starseungs]

a phoenix's ashes. ksm.

kim seungmin x gn!reader — from a love that burned bright to a love that fell like ashes. only a sincere wish from the heart would make a love twice as better rise from its remains.

genre/s — exes to lovers, second chance, angst with a happy ending, pianist!seungmin, violinist!reader • 1.5k words

warning/s — not much other than pain, lack of communication as a theme

note — another seungmin fic because i need to get over this man 🧍‍♀️ its messing with my brain chemistry... | song inspos are « i don't want to watch the world end with someone else - clinton kane » and « huling sandali - december avenue »

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

In the windows of your sight, the view tints green.

They were a startling contrast to the bright white lights illuminating the stage ahead. It framed the picture of the scene well, you suppose. With the two performers seemingly glowing in the tints of yellow provided by the Brazilian maple flooring. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by one of the two, who was donning a beautifully polished violin in her hands. The strings sang in delight as the woman delivered the intricately thought-out vibrations to all those who could hear. 

And those who did, listened. Down to every last sound.

To word it in the simplest way you could muster, it would have to be perfect. The type of playing every person who has learned the violin even once has dreamed of achieving. A small but content smile makes itself known on your face as desires and memories paint themselves in splashes. You were once like that; you hummed to no one in particular. Acknowledgement lost in the silence of muted praises. The green you were presented with made much more sense in the moment of awareness.

Envy. It was an emotion you've come to know, admittedly very well. Drips of resentment seeped through the river of flowing emotions that were overwhelming you. Despicable as it was, you let it be. After all, it was what kept you grounded. Only a fool would discard an anchor when heading into the chaotic sea. The precaution may not always apply—especially not in the depths of the darkest waters—but the thought is what keeps a lost sailor hopeful with the dreams of land.

A certain ring of a key brought you back to the moment at hand. In what seems like a flash, your eyes lost sight of the violinist you were dedicating your absolute attention to. Instead, your gaze shifted to her side, where a male was sitting in front of a sleek black grand piano. The furrowing of your eyebrows proved to be an unstoppable action as your mind connected the face to a name. One that you had refused to utter from the moment his figure stepped on stage. A dark, almost black, blue tie hung securely around his neck. It was in a shade that made you shudder with an awful interpretation.

Longing. You deciphered the tingle of desperation. Every piano key he pressed seemed to grow louder in your ears. It almost scared you to think that the pianist would overpower the strings of the violin you adored so much. A clawing feeling sank itself deeper into your skin, wishing to avoid memories of the time when the two sounds co-existed as a symphony. But it was eventually deemed unfruitful as the score ran to its end.

If only—oh, if only you could retrace your steps back to that time. Back when the music floated carelessly through the air. Without fear or judgement of those who were out of the equation. Back to when you loved with a passion. The days that let your heart skip in a melody resembling the piece being played. You let out a silent chuckle.

Maybe in another life. For now, the present will have to do. A soft smile graces your lips once again as you watch the pianist stand, plastering a content-looking smile at his splendid performance. 

You could only clap in respect.

Witnessing the last stage of the day brought an odd feeling. With the hall lights appearing to guide the audience away, the darkness being chased away was akin to multiple weights being lifted off your shoulder. That itself would have been the best way to end your afternoon. 

If only that didn’t mean having to walk under the dimming evening sky.

“You came,” a voice called out. The two words were short and concise. Straight to the point. A statement rather than a question. The frigid tone of someone who, in your memories, was always so warm made you exhale too shakily for your liking. It was humorous, as it was a great complement to the vibrant orange sunset amidst the chilly air of the incoming night.

The pavement crackled under your feet. “And you made it,” you stated back. His stare shot straight into yours from the minute you turned around. “Congratulations, Seungmin. You did well out there.”

“Even if it’s not the same?”

“What was there to be mourned about? The dynamics sounded heavenly in my ears,” you admitted. The moment of hesitation before your last sentence lingered in the air. You watched a lone leaf swing downward in the space between the two of you.

His next words were spoken through gritted teeth. “It could have been better.”

“Seungmin, you should know by now that I’m never going to be the mind reader you expect me to be.” You sighed in defeat. “I could know you, but I could never be you. So, tell me what you actually want to say.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” he spits out. “You knew me too well that I let myself take advantage of the security you gave me. But that didn’t mean you had to break what you’ve built for yourself just because of me! How much more selfless do you want to be, to the point that you become a selfish coward!”

A car rushed by the barren sidewalk the both of you stood on. The sun had long since been gone, replaced by the moon to be the sole spectator in the exchange between two old flames. Lines of streetlights resembled the lights on the stage you had abandoned, imitating previous performances you once shared with Seungmin. You clenched your fists at the flashes of memory.

“You can’t just hold on to the past like that, Seungmin—”

“Not if it was the present and future that I wanted!” He cries out. “You would never understand what I had to go through when you stepped off that stage for good. The endless nights that I thought to myself, how you could just make that decision like it was nothing. But in the end, it was just me refusing to acknowledge that you had given up. You gave up on me. On us.”

The spear that had lodged in your heart long ago started moving again. You had so much to tell him—that you couldn’t. Not when your conversations with the constellations had you blaming yourself the same way he did to his own. It was never about whatever thought Seungmin made into a conclusion on his own. 

It was the complaint-turned-advice that you failed to apply to yourself.

“Stand on stage again, Y/N.” You flinched at the emotional cracks in Seungmin’s voice. “Stand beside me again.”

In that moment, you proved him right once again. Exactly how long are you going to act selfless to shield your selfish cowardice? You claimed that you wanted to be the muse for Seungmin’s harmony. Yet the moment your skills were questioned, you let go of everything without even a second glance. Now, did you really have the right to dictate whether you were enough for Seungmin or not?

“The violin is no longer for me,” was what came out as a whisper. You watched as Seungmin’s eyes glistened to produce clear beads resembling diamonds. Fear that he might have caught on to the undertone of weariness you were trying to hide after a year of endless convincing. “I’ve left it behind me. It’s been a year.”

A storeowner nearby shuts the front doors of his shop.

“Even the person I fell in love with?” Seungmin asks. “The person you were at the beginning of what we used to call us? The person who shone brighter than the high-grade theater lights, no matter who else was beside them? The same person who could never compare to the stars in the night sky with how much they burned with passion? If so, then tell me right here and right now. That the one I loved has long been left behind by the year as well.”

Your hands twitch to grip an imaginary violin and bow.

“Seungmin.” 

“Please,” he pleads desperately. “Break what’s left of the man who loved that version of you. I refuse to let the fragments of what you were continue to be the reason I keep myself understanding of the pain you bring to me. This is my last wish to you, Y/N. Please let my heart hate you as well.”

Something wet fell in droplets right by your shoes.

“I can’t.”

There were streams flowing down your face.

“I haven’t left that version of me behind.”

A bubbling wail makes itself present in your throat.

“I never forgot how much I loved the violin.”

Slow footsteps echoed through the area.

“And especially not how I continued to love you even throughout that one year.”

Warmth. Like the yellow tint emitted from the Brazilian maple flooring when the overhead lights hit it during a performance. Like the heat of the moment when you reach the climax of a piece. You were back in Seungmin’s arms. In the stage where only you and him existed.

Just where you needed to be.

SERIES TAGLIST ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka

[reallyromealone]

Okay so hear me out.

Sanzu x reader but it's an arranged marriage for connections between Bonten and another Yakuza. But the entire time reader is just kinda forced to dress as a girl because his dad didn't have a daughter to shuffle off to Bonten, so when Sanzu gets time alone with reader and actually gets to talk to him and hug him - he finds out reader is a guy and is just like "WTF- Wait I actually like this better" or something.

Absolutely uwu

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

(name) was uncomfortable as he was dressed and polished, makeup making his face look more feminine than it was.

He hated that he looked like this.

He was going to his "engagement party" with Bonten higher ups, he was being married off to bontens second, he didn't even know who he was. He just hoped it wouldn't go south.

He didnt know who he was, what to do as he walked into the venue, both Bonten and (Yakuza) were guarding the grounds as (name)s father left him by the arm as if he were a daughter and (name) wanted to claw his eyes out with his manicured nails "behave, fail and I will /kill/ you" (name) wasn't even a spare, third born and just a chip for his father so he knew he was serious. The venue was impressive, many people from various organizations there along with political leaders, it was quite the event.

He was never celebrated this much.

Cremes and pinks, gold silverware and expensive plates along the white tables and the marble reflected the expensive chandeliers.

It was all too much.

"Your fiance saved no expense for you" his father said and practically threw him to the wolves to get a drink.

He just wanted to scream.

He was greeted and congratulated by everyone before he even got to meet his future husband, everyone commenting about how lucky Sanzu was to get with such a beautiful girl, all of them pretending like it was love at first sight, not knowing (name)s secret. He didn't even know who this "Sanzu" was, the entire time being chatted up by others and talks about future children being wed for stronger bonds, (name) wanted to puke.

"So you're the little bird our Sanzu is marrying" a white haired man with a tattoo on the side of his head commented and glanced at "her" up and down almost judgingly but made a sound of approval "he wouldn't shut up about you, he's absolutely smitten from a photo" he said passively before smirking if you grow bored of him let me know"

Gross.

(Name) concluded he did not like the one he learned was named Koko who mentioned Sanzu was off assisting their boss with something of importance, (name) wasn't sure what and he didn't know if he wanted to know.

He stood at the window, the venue being at the top floor of a luxury hotel, the city looking tiny from this high and the lights of Tokyo lit up (name) in a way that made him look ethereal, the city reflecting off his eyes.

"I was looking for you" a voice said calmly and a man walked beside him and stared at the city below with his fiance "beautiful" he said no longer looking at the city lights but at the painting of a "woman" before him, never let it be said that Sanzu wasn't romantic, he only was when he chose to be.

Like now, the man pulling (name) close from behind to look at the city and kissing his hand gently "you truly are a sight" he whispered in his ear and kissed gently and (name) yelped at the sound and Sanzu halted, he wasn't as easily fooled "are...are.. you a man?" He asked pinning (name) to the glass and looking at him fully, taking in the features.

"M-my father... He didn't have a daughter so he used me instead... I'm sorry for lying to you but I wasn't exactly given choice... I understand if you want to leave" Sanzu was pissed yes, he was lied to and given a man instead of a woman...but he was still that beauty he fell hopelessly in love with.

His pretty little doll.

"I'll keep you, it's better honestly that youre a man" Sanzu looked critical as he looked over at (name) "everyone will be looking for a helpless bride when in reality it's a pretty little husband" he pulled (name) close and his lips ghosted the poorly huffed Adams apple "I mean how could one miss this?" He huffed out a laugh as his piercing eyes stared into (name)s entire being "letting go of such a beauty would be fucking stupid after all"

(Name) let Sanzu kiss him as they hid from their own party "you're coming back with me, I'll have people collect your shit" he said simply and bit into (name)s shoulder possessively "get used to me baby, because you're /never/ getting rid of me"

And (name) in his heart of hearts... Didn't want to get rid of him, the man who despite it all looked at him like he hung the moon.

[shalotttower]

The Art of Disappearing (part 1)

Title: The Art of Disappearing Fandom: Resident Evil Village Characters: Lady Dimitrescu x Reader (female) Summary: Lady Dimitrescu enjoys wine; you enjoy living. You pray to god those don't overlap. Word count: 1800+ Notes: mentions of death, implied torture and violence, NSFWish, WINE Part 2

Hiding in plain sight is a skill honed by necessity here.

Melt seamlessly into the decor of drapes and velvet curtains until you're indistinguishable from them. Become wallpaper with eyes that stare and mouths that don't open, and arms that only pick, and pass, and scrub, and fold.

You're not the girl who was locked in the cellar last week.

You're not the girl who dropped a plate yesterday.

You're not the girl whose blood got so deep into the dining room rug that it's better off being burned.

You want to say that you won't be that girl, but you can't promise anything anymore except that dinner is at 6 o'clock every evening unless stated otherwise by Lady Dimitrescu. Your schedule revolves around hers entirely, like planets rotating around their dying sun, even if it's not your shift. There's no such thing as a day off in the castle.

But there're such things as a quiet day, or a normal day, or a bad one.

Today is a bad one.

Lady Dimitrescu's favourite lipstick is missing.

It's a very rare, expensive shade, like the red shell of a ladybug, or the last breath of a maiden. Your ears pick up the word being murmured from one maid to another — 'if anyone sees the item, return it to the Lady's vanity immediately'.

You hope that someone finds it soon. Nobody here is dumb enough to steal, so it's probably forgotten somewhere. But you don't say it of course, because Her Ladyship doesn't forget anything and you still need your tongue intact.

---

Lady Dimitrescu likes wine; you enjoy living.

You pray that the two never overlap.

So far luck has been on your side — for six months now you've been working in the castle. You've cleaned stains from carpets and floors without asking what they are (because it was clear even without questions); polished silverware until you could see yourself reflected in them and arranged flowers countless times to learn which ones Lady favors over others.

You were a mouth that didn't speak and eyes that saw nothing. A piece of furniture with legs and arms.

As long as you do your job and keep a low profile, you're safe. Humans thrive in delusion, and so do you. It keeps you sane, what an oxymoron that is.

---

At three in the afternoon, you clean the bathrooms.

Bela is the neatest among the three, and Cassandra leaves everything scattered around for maids like you to collect and place where it's supposed to be. Daniela is... unique. You're not sure how she manages to get stains and fingerprints on such random surfaces. Sometimes you wonder if she does it on purpose.

Daniela loves fun surprises.

Like sneaking up on you when you're on your knees, scrubbing the tub. She pokes your shoulder. "Hiya."

Your heart drops into your stomach.

"Lady Daniela," you greet while trying not to let your hands shake under the apron.

She's smiling sweetly today, like she didn't just scare ten years out of you. You're not fooled and know better than to trust that expression. Nothing in this castle is innocent and saccharine and nice. Especially not the daughters.

"Can I help you with anything, my lady?"

Please say "no" and leave.

Daniela rocks on her heels then leans forward, inspecting your work.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

She's bored, you realize. Great. Bored means unpredictable behavior, and unpredictable behavior means trouble for everyone else who isn't Daniela herself. You wait for whatever she wants — entertainment? food? — patiently despite the churning in your gut.

"I'm bored," she announces.

"Yes, my lady."

"Let's play a game. Hide and seek, like little ones."

Six months have yet to make the instinctive urge to flee within you die out whenever one of them wants something from you directly. You'd think that this whole time might've increased your chances of survival, but humans thrive in delusion. In reality, everything is a gamble here. An embroidery of chance and circumstances that determines if you will live another day, that's all.

"I would be honored, my lady."

The bathrooms must be finished by five, and it's almost four. You're not going to make it on time.

"Who is going to hide first?" You ask after a moment.

Daniela claps. "Well you, of course, silly!"

Of course.

---

Hiding in plain sight is a skill honed by necessity here. Melting seamlessly into the decor of drapes and velvet curtains.

But you're not a vase or a coat rack. You're just a girl who's been in the castle for a while and has gotten good at being invisible. You can't hide your heart beat. Your scent and the warmth of your skin are impossible to erase.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Daniela's sing-song voice carries from the other end of the west wing, and then fades.

She didn't count to ten. You know because you've been counting along, just to have an idea of how much time there's left until she finds you. There're no harbored hopes about the opposite happening. Hide and seek is one of Daniela's favourite games, and she dedicates herself to it thoroughly, with great interest.

It's not about winning the game — that much you realized early on when she played against other maids, plucking one out and chasing her around the castle before dissolving into flies with a cackle.

It's about the entertainment good enough to satiate her.

You're not the most agile, not the fastest. Even after six months your knowledge of the castle's layout is patchy, but you try to think logically. What places will she check last? What will Daniela expect you to choose?

Closets are off limits. So is the library, unless you want Bela on your tail as well.

Your mind wanders.

There're so many rooms in this castle that you haven't seen once during all of your shifts. You're always cleaning hallways, sometimes the daughters' parlors, and nothing more.

Down the stairs, past the servant quarters, is a place where rumors are born. Of thick barrels stacked to the ceiling like dominoes and wine in various stages of production. It smells sour-sweet down there — like fruit rotting in August.

Wine that never runs out in Dimitrescu castle as long as there're maids.

That's what others say, at least. Nobody has come back to confirm.

Would she look in the cellar? Would anyone?

It's the last place you'd search if you were looking for someone insignificant and replaceable.

You take off your shoes so that your steps don't echo in the expanse of marble and stairs.

---

There're all kinds of things down here. Broken furniture that's been tossed aside for disposal, boxes and crates of unidentified items, old paintings of people you don't recognize.

And wine.

A lot of it in barrels and bottles, some of which are labeled, some aren't. You walk past them, following the corridors of dusty brick. The air smells like mold and fermentation, damp. It reminds you of the lakeside by your grandmother's cottage in summertime and you feel strangely nostalgic.

You miss home.

The thought is dangerous and you quickly push it away, back to where it belongs — in your memories. Home doesn't exist anymore.

Time passes. Minutes go by without the sounds of buzzing swarms or doors creaking open somewhere nearby. No voices either, except for your own breathing and heartbeat that fill up every corner of silence. You find a nook between the stacked barrels and settle there with your knees pulled to your chest.

The place is colder, uncomfortably so. Cool ground sends its chill through your stockings.

You've done everything you could. Found a good hiding spot, a perfect one, and it's out of your control from here on.

The art of disappearing is simple: be nothing and wait until time decides if you're worth staying like that or not.

---

Daniela finds you after your legs start to numb from sitting.

"Found you," she grins from ear to ear.

Her flies settle as she solidifies into flesh with a giggle, girlish and mischievous. It could be cute if not the bloody smudges around her mouth and chin. She crouches down in front of you, close enough for you to see the specks of gold in her eyes.

"Congratulations, Lady Daniela."

Your fingers dig into your skirts.

Daniela tilts her head; a fly crawls on her cheek before taking off. "I win! I get my prize now."

You didn't know you were playing for a prize. But nobody tells you anything in this castle until it's too late, like that you're not supposed to open windows in winter, or that you can't touch Daniela's books because she has them organized alphabetically.

"What would you like, my lady?"

Another fly lands on your lips, a thick creature with translucent wings and little fuzzy legs. They tickle but you resist the urge to make a face lest she takes it as an insult. At your question her expression turns impish, one of those you never fail to associate with trouble.

She reaches into your apron's pocket... and pulls out a lipstick.

You stare at it — a simple elegant tube with a golden cap.

"Look what I found!" Daniela waves it in front of your face like it's a toy.

Your blood freezes over. How did it end up there? You've been working for hours today yet you don't recall ever picking it up off anywhere. Where-

"My lady, I didn't take it!" you blurt out in horror, when it dawns on you. "I swear, I wouldn't! I would never-"

Daniela blinks owlishly and then breaks into laughter, clutching her stomach. Her smile is so wide that you can see her gums stained with coagulated blood which makes your stomach turn. The flies swarm and dissipate around you both, disturbed by her unrestrained mirth.

"Silly," she interrupts your stammering. "I know! You should've seen your face!"

Oh thank god.

You're so relieved that for a second all air leaves your lungs.

"...you tricked me?" you ask quietly after a moment, a bit more composed now when the accusation of theft doesn't hang over your head.

"Mhm," Daniela nods and wipes tears from her eyes, still giggling.

You're not sure if it was funny to anyone except her.

Her smile lessens gradually and eventually vanishes from her lips altogether when the initial amusement wears off. Something coy appears in her demeanor, sheepish even, as she fiddles with the lipstick in silence.

"Can you put it back in mother's vanity?" she grabs your hand suddenly and places it into your palm.

That's when you realize that you never even once questioned where she got it from. But Daniela gives you a pout with a warning look, like she's able to tell exactly what you're thinking. All questions die instantly on your tongue; you nod.

"Yes, my lady. Of course."

"Good," she pats your knee. "Don't forget! Or I'll eat you."

Flies descend onto your skirt, buzzing around Daniela's fingers until she disappears into dozens of black insects.

You know that she meant every word.

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 4

[Travelling via plane and train all the time has given me time to write some more. So here's the next part arriving a little early. Enjoy!]

Operation befriend Michael was going well. Whenever Lucifer and Lilith were busy romancing each other, Adam would often ‘stumble’ upon Michael where he would often ramble about his activities in the garden. This way, Adam learned some things about the angel.

If Adam was an obedient fool when he was first born in the garden, then Michael is on another level. The angel had ‘blind faith’ written all over him. He quite literally followed God's words to a T. The angel also liked to work, a lot. And if he wasn't working, then he'd be spending time perfecting his skills, as if they weren't perfect enough. But that didn't stop Adam from forcing the angel to take a break and spend time with him instead. All he had to do was insinuate that it was good work, to ensure proper care for God's most perfect creation. Just fulfilling another of God's plans.

Initially, Michael would offer to get either Lilith or Lucifer to accompany Adam instead. He was there to protect the garden from outside dangers, it was not his main purpose to deal with the going ons within the garden. However, as Adam kept on being left alone by the two, Michael was left having to pick up after Lucifer’s duties.

Eventually, Adam was able to see a little bit into the angel's truest self. Despite his seemingly hard and strict demeanour, and constant reminder that he was not, in fact, the primary carer of the garden, Michael seemed to really enjoy to just be in the garden and unwind a little. With just a bit of persistence from Adam, and he would teach and play board games all day long with Adam. On very rare occasions, it would be Michael who would ‘stumble’ across Adam, and he would just so happen to have a scroll with him, which Adam could use to practice reading and writing.

Adam was relaxing on his newly made hammock. Gently swinging back and forth as he played a soft tune with his guitar, Amora taking a nap not too far away from him, birds perched on nearby trees as they sang along to the tune.

“Adam.”

With a gush of wind, and flapping of his wings, Michael announced his presence.

“On your own again?”

Sure his tone sounded displeased, but Adam was sure he could a small upturn on the corner of his lips.

Adam sat up, placing the guitar on his lap before giving Michael a sweet smile as he waved at him.

“Michael!,” greeted Adam, before looking down, a sad smile on his lips. “I'm glad you're here again.”

“Yes, I happened to be patrolling this area.” Michael landed beside Adam, one hand outstretched as he handed him a wooden box with gold engravings. “Here. I had a spare one, so you can have this.”

Michael placed the box onto Adam’s hands. It had intricate golden engravings on its corners, its polished wooden check pattern felt smooth on Adam’s hands. Adam opened the small latch, revealing pieces meticulously designed: there were the Kings, Queens, Bishops, Towers, Knights, and the Pawns. A complete set. Alongside the chess pieces within the box were a few scrolls.

“They should be simple enough for you to practice on,” Michael gestured vaguely at the scrolls.

Adam smiled, “Michael, do you want to play chess with me?”

Chess was one of the activities he did with Michael. Honestly it was the perfect way to pass time with the angel. It kept his mind sharp, while simultaneously giving him some insight on how the angel thought. The few hours they would spend playing chess were enough for Adam to form a ‘bond’ with the angel. An added bonus was that Michael seemed to really enjoy teaching him chess, and well, if he could learn a few extra skills, then why not.

“Well, I have some time to spare,” Michael replied coolly. “Let's see if you improved.”

Despite his even tone and seemingly relaxed demeanour, Adam was sure the angel was pretty happy, maybe even a little excited. That spark in his eyes, hands behind his back, which he was sure were fiddling with his robes, and the subtle glow he was emitting. Yeah, Adam was sure he's at least got this angel on his side.

—-

“Checkmate.”

Michael moved his pawn on the board, securing his win. A few pieces laid on the grass on both sides of the board. Adam gave a small frown.

“Aw, how did I not see that?”

“You did very well. You almost beat me,” Michael let a small proud smile slip across his lips.

Yeah, pretty sure I'm winning THE game, though.

Adam gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. Of course he could do this, no doubt at all. He was the first man after all, God’s most perfect creation. And hell, if he really tried, he was pretty sure he could beat Michael at chess. Easy. Although, that might seem a bit odd, so maybe he would keep holding back for now. Yup.

Adam looked up to the sky. It was late in the afternoon, not yet dark, but late enough that the sun’s rays were not as warm as they were earlier in the day, and breeze were starting to cool. Contrary to his public image in his past life as a lazy angel who tried to get away from as much work as possible, Adam could actually get work done quite efficiently when he actually felt like it. He didn't spend all his time in Eden just lazing around and hanging out with Michael, Adam also managed to get Lilith and Lucifer’s routine. Well, they didn't have a routine per se, but they had habits, things they would often do at a specific time at a specific place. And this time seemed to be the correct time, and Adam just knew the place. The thing was, should he do it today? Maybe he should check up on them first to make sure. But then, Michael might leave soon, it was getting late…

Adam glanced at Michael. Why not. Today was a good day, might as well attempt to make it even better.

Adam put the pieces back onto its wooden container before getting up and offering his hand to Michael.

“Actually Michael, I wanted to show you something.”

—-

Lucifer and Lilith laid beside each other. Lilith snuggled closer to Lucifer, her head resting on his arm as Lucifer embraced her back, placing soft kisses all over her face. Both were basking in the afterglow of their recent activity.

It had been somewhat peaceful for the both of them lately. Adam seemed to appear less and less, and didn't seem to want anything to do with them, often finding an excuse to leave early. Lilith couldn't be happier, while Lucifer was a little worried. Humans were social creatures, surely Adam couldn't just be alone, and be alright. Michael also visited the garden more often, but he usually just did his patrolling and then left. At the start, he would find both Lilith and Lucifer and scold them for leaving Adam alone, but it seemed that the angel had either given up or grew tired of scolding them.

Lucifer looked at Lilith's face. He knew what they did was wrong. To deviate from God's plan. But Lilith was so beautiful. So inquisitive. She understood his yearning for freedom. She didn't deserve to be stuck in Eden and have her potential be limited. He needed to save her. However, the thought of Heaven's wrath stopped him in his thoughts. God and his siblings looking at him in disappointment and disgust. He was not ready to face that, he never would be. He looked back down at Lilith's peaceful face, and kissed the top of her head. How he wished they could just stay like this forever.

—-

“I haven't given it a name yet, it's something–”

Adam froze on his spot, eyes glued to the scene in front of him.

“Lilith, Lucifer what–”

Michael stood in front of Adam, all six wings flared out in an attempt to shield Adam from the scene in front of him. Although there really was no point, this wasn't Adam’s first betrayal, but it definitely was the most satisfying so far.

Lilith gasped, being suddenly woken up from her rest as Lucifer wrapped his arms and wings around her protectively, a defensive look pointed towards both Michael and Adam, like a cornered animal.

“Lucifer! How dare you..! I turn a blind eye to your reckless behaviour and you betray us like this!”

He pointed at Lilith, “You tempted and thus, tainted the first woman.”

“N-no! Lucifer did not tempt me! We love each other! I just can't be Adam,” Lilith defended Lucifer, fear and worry dripping from her voice.

Lucifer looked up from his position, eyes begging Michael. “Brother please…”

Michael looked down on both transgressors, his stance unabated.

“Sera will see to this.”

Part 3

Part 5

[hwnglx]

this was a complex and long one. the more i read on wonyoung, the more in awe i get of her. like wow we all need to learn a thing or two from this girl. she's a queen.

wonyoung's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled song: 28 reasons by seulgi

+ so unsurprisingly, this girl is a professional through and through. very common pattern for people who entered the industry at an early age. hard work in the entertainment business comes to them astoundingly easy. (something i saw for ni-ki previously)

she's just as polished and sophisticated off cam, as she is on cam. very focused on maintaining a clean image even behind the scenes, she's aware that's what can make or break a public figure. quite a few idols put on an angel act when cameras are on them, but allow themselves to be reckless beyond closed doors. wonyoung knows people talk, there's this sense of a continuously cautious “trust nobody” in her. this is something that sets her apart from many others. wonyoung is very aware that things will get out eventually, so she's incredibly eager to withhold a flawless reputation even behind the scenes. she's also extremely protective of what is hers, whether that's her material possessions (money, expensive or cherished items), the image she's worked hard on maintaining, her loved ones and cherished relationships. wonyoung puts a lot of value into keeping them in check, making sure they're taken care of.

i looked up her mars sign and immediately went “aaah” as soon as i saw it's in virgo, because she seems to be outstanding at planning. wonyoung is very calculated, everything she does she's fully aware of. she always acts while exactly knowing the effects it has on, not only herself, but the people around her. this is also a quality she doesn't only use for her own good, but many people around her seem to appreciate. since she's incredibly intuitive, she can combine those two qualities, which makes for a person who's great at identifying and reading situations, and wisely acting according to this profuse intuition. for example, if someone she's close to is telling her about their struggles, she not only is great at making them feel cared about and listened to, offering them emotional understanding and support, but also excellent at grasping the problem and conflict, and providing the person with helpful solutions on how to act. random thought, but i could see her being a pretty good psychologist, or lawyer. (did she ever talk about wanting to work in medicine or law if she wasn't an idol?)

wonyoung is very smart. not only emotionally intelligent, but also very eloquent. great at speaking and finding the right words at the right time. there's also a lot of drive in this girl, like so much. she has a very determined attitude, which can be contagious to the people around her. amazing at pulling people out of situations that seem hopeless, and giving them courage to move forward. a very good team player, she's capable of adjusting to her co-workers and compromising, finding a middle-ground for the sake of the team. i can see many people truly enjoying to work with her, because she doesn't only have such a profound understanding of what she's doing, but is also considerate of the people around her.

lastly, this girl literally pulls the strings, has most people at the palm of her hands with ease. especially in a romantic manner, if any men mess with wonyoung.. make no mistake, she will not be played by them but instead play them swiftly, probably without them even noticing until later. the type to smile at you and hug you while stabbing an injection with your own poison in your back, knowing you did this to yourself. type to beat you at your own game while smiling politely.

she will not allow anyone to trick her, make a fool out of her. she reads and understands behaviorial patterns very well, so it just isn't easy to mislead her. however! best believe she only does this to people who do her wrong first. people who deserve it. it's giving “i'm sweet and respectful to everyone but, you better know not to mess with me, because that's when you'll get to see a different side to me” as i mentioned, i can see her being pretty cut-throat when it comes to men. especially in the industry. many weird ass men in there, wonyoung does not allow them to put themselves above her, just because of their bizarre gender superiority complex. (i remember this spiting some male idols in my reputation reading lmao well..) there's this thing of her always remaining crazy polite though, and doing just enough for payback. in this smart manner in which she can't be blamed or faulted for it.

- i hate to say this, but wonyoung can have her entitled princess tendencies. it's kinda giving spoiled rich girl who not only expects the best treatment, but is also so selective over who she calls her friends, depending on their status. not sure if she grew up in a rich household, but this seems like something that comes very naturally to her. she's very very meticulous, very very picky and perfectionistic. even if she doesn't always express it in a mean or aggressive way, it can just rub people the wrong way since it can give off pick me energy. i can see her being all “hmmm no” about some potentially beneficial things in her career like jobs or opportunities, just because she can feel superior to them. like she's above them. very much boss energy and it again, is incredibly smart in several ways, but sometimes it can be off putting, she isn't always right in her judgement without fail.

she's so invested in closely managing people's image of her, that she can quickly drive herself crazy over trivial details. there seems to be a lot of fear when it comes to letting go of this obsession and control over her reputation, as well as making herself vulnerable. wonyoung seems to have a lot of trust issues. this comes up everytime i read for her.. there's this constant feeling like everyone is out to get her somehow. i think she's seen a lot of shit happen in the industry, people in the business can be cruel and cold. just like the public, they can often look at and treat idols as these emotionless dolls. due to this, wonyoung can easily get mistrustful of people with pure and good intentions. she protects her heart in a very fierce manner. (this could for sure go up to the green flags but her immense trust issues seem to potentially stand in the way of her forming genuine and healthy connections too)

she's so scared of appearing easy to attack, easy to hurt or easy to access and weak. she hates crying in front of people, and always puts on a perfect mask she hides all her inner struggles behind. she's scared of baring her true soul to people because she doesn't like the thought of them seeing her as a flawed person. wonyoung sets herself up to skyhigh standards, because she believes she's lacking and unworthy of praise if she doesn't meet those expectations. she feels like she needs to be perfect for people to like her, which is sad and ironic, because.. they literally go on hating on her for appearing so perfect. people need to calm the hell down, shut the hell up and realize their words are making her put on even more of an act, hide herself even further, since she's actually so easily hurt. her heart is much softer than people realize, and much softer than she herself would like it to be.

[devnmon]

dating dutch van der linde hcs

a/n: i am on such a dutch kick these days. my writing inspo has come back and somehow i'm even more down bad for dutch van der linde these days so... here you go!!!! enjoy xx

sfw and nsfw below the cut <3

SFW

Contrary to popular belief that Dutch is all rough around the edges, I firmly believe he'd have a soft spot for his partner. Sure, he shows his kindness to folks who need it, but for you he has a special place in his heart.

He melts when you smile, when you laugh, when you look his way or walk past his tent. His dark eyes can't help but lock onto you like magnets. He's entranced by you- by everything you do.

Dutch learns what you like very quickly; your favorite book, meal, color, favorite spots in the local towns... like the back of his hand. He's very observant.

Though he speaks well and often, there's nothing to him like sitting and letting you rant about anything you'd like. Your voice is a river of honey and he'd gladly dive head first just to enjoy the time spent with you.

Like I said, Dutch pays attention; it's no wonder when he returns from the city with a new outfit for you, specially made with the highest quality fabrics and production he could find. He knows what flatters your figure but also keeps in mind what you like to wear.

So when you walk into camp wearing it, just for him, he's speechless. Hand on his chest, out of breath speechless.

Dutch lives for your compliments and flirting. Absolutely lives for it. From you, oh it's absolute heaven. He feels like a god being fed bread and wine while sat on a throne. There's nothing like it to him. Nothing compares to your praises.

You'd allow him to recite his favorite passages from Evelyn Miller whenever he was feeling up to it; you loved hearing him talk about absolutely anything as long as he was speaking to you. And he makes philosophy seem so much more intriguing with that gruff voice of his. If I had to give it a scent/taste, dark chocolate or whiskey would be most accurate.

Dutch is the typical gentleman: making sure you're safely escorted around if he cannot accompany you, and when he does, it's with a hand on the small of your back or while your hands are interlocked. He must be maintaining contact with you whenever possible... it's his guilty pleasure.

The more time you spend with him, the more your routines intertwine and line up perfectly, making the days seem ages longer than they are. From waking up and sharing warm coffee to winding down and resting together, he makes sure to share quality time with you.

Dutch has a habit of cradling your head when you're hugging or lying in his arms. It's his protective instincts kicking in whenever you're around him.

When you're tired after getting back from a long trip, he'll carry you bridal style to his tent, undressing you while you sit upright, half asleep. He does so with multiple kisses on your cheeks and forehead, delicately helping you wind down with his soft touches.

Kissing Dutch is a joy in itself because he knows exactly what he's doing with his tongue, nevermind when his hands come into play. He's such a lovesick fool whispering "I could kiss you forever..." in your ear like that wouldn't just make you want to test that theory.

You love running little errands for Dutch or with him, stocking up on extra bullets and hair pomade so he can look his best. Making sure his shirts are always spotless and ironed. You also take pride in being the one polishing his gold chains adorned on his favorite vest (and think they compliment his waist and proportions very well).

I can also imagine him letting you run your hands through his hair while you lay together, something that relaxes him after however long and hard a day he might have had.

Sometimes when you're kissing and talking, he'll chuckle into the kiss and that'll just draw you into him even more, arms wrapped around his neck with his around your waist.

Dutch doesn't know how you pull the brightest and biggest of smiles from him, but he's damn sure he doesn't want to stop. Not even when his cheeks hurt. He holds you very dear to him.

There are days where you just want to listen to his voice, so you ask him to read you his favorite passages from the American Inferno or another philosophy book he keeps around. "Forgive me if I fall asleep, your voice is just so calming." and he wouldn't take offense to it, he'd only maintain his voice at a certain volume so you could rest peacefully.

NSFW

Dutch van der Linde is a man who draws everythingggg out. Sometimes he likes to make it worse by whispering in your ear while he touches you. (Or taunting you throughout the day with not so subtle touches)

He loves it when you disobey him because it just gives him the excuse to be rough with you. He'll make you suck him off, pushing you down on his cock before fucking you roughly.

Honorable mention: making you kiss his rings before using that very hand to deal you a spanking punishment. The cold metal makes it hurt a little more but if you've been disobedient, he won't hold back.

Dutch is a slut for pet names; in fact he will only use your first name when you've made him mad, otherwise it's "darling, miss, dearest, my love" etc.

On the other hand, you call him sir out of respect, not knowing how it absolutely wrecks him. You have to be careful lest he get all worked up and have to drag you away from your chores. Sometimes he does, whispering to you "Do you know what that does to me?" "It's out of respect sir I-" "Hush. You shouldn't address me as anything but. I just... god, you make me crazy."

Absolutely takes advantage of the clear power dynamic the two of you have, him being the leader of a very powerful gang definitely gives him that ego boost.

Loves to give and give and give. He would spend hours between your legs making you come multiple times on his tongue, just because he loves how you taste.

He's not into somno per say... but if you're exhausted and he has pent up energy, he'll take out his frustrations on you. That is, as long as you were feeling up for it.

When you sit on his lap it's only a matter of time before he gets touchy and his hands start roaming your body, exploring which spots are more sensitive than usual and taking note of your favorites.

Imagine him letting his rings get cold and fingering you so that the metal is extra stimulating on your skin. He especially loves letting them run over your nipples to watch them harden.

His morning voice is gruff and gravelly but that wouldn't stop you from dragging your hand down his broad, hair ridden chest to get him off early in the mornings. Say he had an issue he had to deal with that he put off from the night before, and he's dreading getting up and to his duties, but first you give him just a piece of heaven before he gets up to start his day.

If one day he comes back with a crick in his neck or some kind of back pain, you're the one to suggest you massage him. At first it's harmless touches that bring him such relief, but then you get carried away, dragging your hands up and down his sides as if to rile him up purposely. It's not long after you're whispering for him to relax while you take care of him, sucking him off or just simply worshiping his body with your mouth.

Loves to praise you as easy as breathing. Things like "always so ready for me, my sweetest," and "there you go darlin', taking me so well".

One night he comes back to his tent with you dressed in only his vest, your cleavage on display for him while he spots the amount of arousal between your legs. He buries himself inside you, letting you know how alluring you look for him.

You can't walk away from being in bed with Dutch without any new marks. The minute you jump his bones his mouth is all over you, placing mark after mark on your neck and down your chest. You try and convince him to not leave marks where the gang can see them, but he doesn't care. He has the power and he'll do as he wishes.

His favorite punishment for you is having you over his lap and a. either spanking you until you can't sit correctly for a week, or b. making you come over and over until you plead for him to stop. It's only then he finds whatever lotion or oil he has and massages the skin he's just bruised. Dutch may take pleasure in seeing you cry for him, but he'll be damned if he doesn't clean you up and wipe your tears before lying his head down to rest.

Aftercare consists of him still being a little cocky if he's gotten you to come multiple times, but you also see the sweet side of him while helping you clean up and making sure he didn't push you too far. Though he loves the power, he has enough self control to know when you need a little comforting touch or a bath afterwards. He'll gladly carry you there himself and help relax you for the night.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Wise Pair of Fools: A Retelling of “The Farmer’s Clever Daughter”

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge.

Faith

I wish you could have known my husband when he was a young man. How you would have laughed at him! He was so wonderfully pompous—oh, you’d have no idea unless you’d seen him then. He’s weathered beautifully, but back then, his beauty was bright and new, all bronze and ebony. He tried to pretend he didn’t care for personal appearances, but you could tell he felt his beauty. How could a man not be proud when he looked like one of creation’s freshly polished masterpieces every time he stepped out among his dirty, sweaty peasantry?

But his pride in his face was nothing compared to the pride he felt over his mind. He was clever, even then, and he knew it. He’d grown up with an army of nursemaids to exclaim, “What a clever boy!” over every mildly witty observation he made. He’d been tutored by some of the greatest scholars on the continent, attended the great universities, traveled further than most people think the world extends. He could converse like a native in fifteen living languages and at least three dead ones.

And books! Never a man like him for reading! His library was nothing to what it is now, of course, but he was making a heroic start. Always a book in his hand, written by some dusty old man who never said in plain language what he could dress up in words that brought four times the work to some lucky printer. Every second breath he took came out as a quotation. It fairly baffled his poor servants—I’m certain to this day some of them assume Plato and Socrates were college friends of his.

Well, at any rate, take a man like that—beautiful and over-educated—and make him king over an entire nation—however small—before he turns twenty-five, and you’ve united all earthly blessings into one impossibly arrogant being.

Unfortunately, Alistair’s pomposity didn’t keep him properly aloof in his palace. He’d picked up an idea from one of his old books that he should be like one of the judge-kings of old, walking out among his people to pass judgment on their problems, giving the inferior masses the benefit of all his twenty-four years of wisdom. It’s all right to have a royal patron, but he was so patronizing. Just as if we were all children and he was our benevolent father. It wasn’t strange to see him walking through the markets or looking over the fields—he always managed to look like he floated a step or two above the common ground the rest of us walked on—and we heard stories upon stories of his judgments. He was decisive, opinionated. Always thought he had a better way of doing things. Was always thinking two and ten and twelve steps ahead until a poor man’s head would be spinning from all the ways the king found to see through him. Half the time, I wasn’t sure whether to fear the man or laugh at him. I usually laughed.

So then you can see how the story of the mortar—what do you mean you’ve never heard it? You could hear it ten times a night in any tavern in the country. I tell it myself at least once a week! Everyone in the palace is sick to death of it!

Oh, this is going to be a treat! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fresh audience?

It happened like this. It was spring of the year I turned twenty-one. Father plowed up a field that had lain fallow for some years, with some new-fangled deep-cutting plow that our book-learned king had inflicted upon a peasantry that was baffled by his scientific talk. Father was plowing near a river when he uncovered a mortar made of solid gold. You know, a mortar—the thing with the pestle, for grinding things up. Don’t ask me why on earth a goldsmith would make such a thing—the world’s full of men with too much money and not enough sense, and housefuls of servants willing to take too-valuable trinkets off their hands. Someone decades ago had swiped this one and apparently found my father’s farm so good a hiding place that they forgot to come back for it.

Anyhow, my father, like the good tenant he was, understood that as he’d found a treasure on the king’s land, the right thing to do was to give it to the king. He was all aglow with his noble purpose, ready to rush to the palace at first light to do his duty by his liege lord.

I hope you can see the flaw in his plan. A man like Alistair, certain of his own cleverness, careful never to be outwitted by his peasantry? Come to a man like that with a solid gold mortar, and his first question’s going to be…?

That’s right. “Where’s the pestle?”

I tried to tell Father as much, but he—dear, sweet, innocent man—saw only his simple duty and went forth to fulfill it. He trotted into the king’s throne room—it was his public day—all smiles and eagerness.

Alistair took one look at him and saw a peasant tickled to death that he was pulling a fast one on the king—giving up half the king’s rightful treasure in the hopes of keeping the other half and getting a fat reward besides.

Alistair tore into my father—his tongue was much sharper then—taking his argument to pieces until Father half-believed he had hidden away the pestle somewhere, probably after stealing both pieces himself. In his confusion, Father looked even guiltier, and Alistair ordered his guard to drag Father off to the dungeons until they could arrange a proper hearing—and, inevitably, a hanging.

As they dragged him to his doom, my father had the good sense to say one coherent phrase, loud enough for the entire palace to hear. “If only I had listened to my daughter!”

Alistair, for all his brains, hadn’t expected him to say something like that. He had Father brought before him, and questioned him until he learned the whole story of how I’d urged Father to bury the mortar again and not say a word about it, so as to prevent this very scene from occurring.

About five minutes after that, I knocked over a butter churn when four soldiers burst into my father’s farmhouse and demanded I go with them to the castle. I made them clean up the mess, then put on my best dress and did up my hair—in those days, it was thick and golden, and fell to my ankles when unbound—and after traveling to the castle, I went, trembling, up the aisle of the throne room.

Alistair had made an effort that morning to look extra handsome and extra kingly. He still has robes like those, all purple and gold, but the way they set off his black hair and sharp cheekbones that day—I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked half-divine, the spirit of judgment in human form. At the moment, I didn’t feel like laughing at him.

Looming on his throne, he asked me, “Is it true that you advised this man to hide the king’s rightful property from him?” (Alistair hates it when I imitate his voice—but isn’t it a good impression?)

I said yes, it was true, and Alistair asked me why I’d done such a thing, and I said I had known this disaster would result, and he asked how I knew, and I said (and I think it’s quite good), that this is what happens when you have a king who’s too clever to be anything but stupid.

Naturally, Alistair didn’t like that answer a bit, but I’d gotten on a roll, and it was my turn to give him a good tongue-lashing. What kind of king did he think he was, who could look at a man as sweet and honest as my father and suspect him of a crime? Alistair was so busy trying to see hidden lies that he couldn’t see the truth in front of his face. So determined not to be made a fool of that he was making himself into one. If he persisted in suspecting everyone who tried to do him a good turn, no one would be willing to do much of anything for him. And so on and so forth.

You might be surprised at my boldness, but I had come into that room not expecting to leave it without a rope around my neck, so I intended to speak my mind while I had the chance. The strangest thing was that Alistair listened, and as he listened, he lost some of that righteous arrogance until he looked almost human. And the end of it all was that he apologized to me!

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that! I didn’t faint, but I came darn close. That arrogant, determined young king, admitting to a simple farmer’s daughter that he’d been wrong?

He did more than admit it—he made amends. He let Father keep the mortar, and then bought it from him at its full value. Then he gifted Father the farm where we lived, making us outright landowners. After the close of the day’s hearings, he even invited us to supper with him, and I found that King Alistair wasn’t a half-bad conversational partner. Some of those books he read sounded almost interesting.

For a year after that, Alistair kept finding excuses to come by the farm. He would check on Father’s progress and baffle him with advice. We ran into each other in the street so often that I began to expect it wasn’t mere chance. We’d talk books, and farming, and sharpen our wits on each other. We’d do wordplay, puzzles, tongue-twisters. A game, but somehow, I always thought, some strange sort of test.

Would you believe, even his proposal was a riddle? Yes, an actual riddle! One spring morning, I came across Alistair on a corner of my father's land, and he got down on one knee, confessed his love for me, and set me a riddle. He had the audacity to look into the face of the woman he loved—me!—and tell me that if I wanted to accept his proposal, I would come to him at his palace, not walking and not riding, not naked and not dressed, not on the road and not off it.

Do you know, I think he actually intended to stump me with it? For all his claim to love me, he looked forward to baffling me! He looked so sure of himself—as if all his book-learning couldn’t be beat by just a bit of common sense.

If I’d really been smart, I suppose I’d have run in the other direction, but, oh, I wanted to beat him so badly. I spent about half a minute solving the riddle and then went off to make my preparations.

The next morning, I came to the castle just like he asked. Neither walking nor riding—I tied myself to the old farm mule and let him half-drag me. Neither on the road nor off it—only one foot dragging in a wheel rut at the end. Neither naked nor dressed—merely wrapped in a fishing net. Oh, don’t look so shocked! There was so much rope around me that you could see less skin than I’m showing now.

If I’d hoped to disappoint Alistair, well, I was disappointed. He radiated joy. I’d never seen him truly smile before that moment—it was incandescent delight. He swept me in his arms, gave me a kiss without a hint of calculation in it, then had me taken off to be properly dressed, and we were married within a week.

It was a wonderful marriage. We got along beautifully—at least until the next time I outwitted him. But I won’t bore you with that story again—

You don’t know that one either? Where have you been hiding yourself?

Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that one. Not if it’s your first time. It’s much better the way Alistair tells it.

What time is it?

Perfect! He’s in his library just now. Go there and ask him to tell you the whole thing.

Yes, right now! What are you waiting for?

Alistair

Faith told you all that, did she? And sent you to me for the rest? That woman! It’s just like her! She thinks I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and gossip about our courtship!

Where are you going? I never said I wouldn’t tell the story! Honestly, does no one have brains these days? Sit down!

Yes, yes, anywhere you like. One chair’s as good as another—I built this room for comfort. Do you take tea? I can ring for a tray—the story tends to run long.

Well, I’ll ring for the usual, and you can help yourself to whatever you like.

I’m sure Faith has given you a colorful picture of what I was like as a young man, and she’s not totally inaccurate. I’d had wealth and power and too much education thrown on me far too young, and I thought my blessings made me better than other men. My own father had been the type of man who could be fooled by every silver-tongued charlatan in the land, so I was sensitive and suspicious, determined to never let another man outwit me.

When Faith came to her father’s defense, it was like my entire self came crumbling down. Suddenly, I wasn’t the wise king; I was a cruel and foolish boy—but Faith made me want to be better. That day was the start of my fascination with her, and my courtship started in earnest not long after.

The riddle? Yes, I can see how that would be confusing. Faith tends to skip over the explanations there. A riddle’s an odd proposal, but I thought it was brilliant at the time, and I still think it wasn’t totally wrong-headed. I wasn’t just finding a wife, you see, but a queen. Riddles have a long history in royal courtships. I spent weeks laboring over mine. I had some idea of a symbolic proposal—each element indicating how she’d straddle two worlds to be with me. But more than that, I wanted to see if Faith could move beyond binary thinking—look beyond two opposites to see the third option between. Kings and queens have to do that more often than you’d think…

No, I’m sorry, it is a bit dull, isn’t it? I guess there’s a reason Faith skips over the explanations.

So to return to the point: no matter what Faith tells you, I always intended for her to solve the riddle. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t—but I wouldn’t have asked if I’d had the least doubt she’d succeed. The moment she came up that road was the most ridiculous spectacle you’d ever hope to see, but I had never known such ecstasy. She’d solved every piece of my riddle, in just the way I’d intended. She understood my mind and gained my heart. Oh, it was glorious.

Those first weeks of marriage were glorious, too. You’d think it’d be an adjustment, turning a farmer’s daughter into a queen, but it was like Faith had been born to the role. Manners are just a set of rules, and Faith has a sharp mind for memorization, and it’s not as though we’re a large kingdom or a very formal court. She had a good mind for politics, and was always willing to listen and learn. I was immensely proud of myself for finding and catching the perfect wife.

You’re smarter than I was—you can see where I was going wrong. But back then, I didn’t see a cloud in the sky of our perfect happiness until the storm struck.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time. I was looking over the fields of some nearby villages—farming innovations were my chief interest at the time. There were so many fascinating developments in those days. I’ve an entire shelf full of texts if you’re interested—

The story, yes. My apologies. The offer still stands.

Anyway, I was out in the fields, and it was well past the midday hour. I was starving, and more than a little overheated, so we were on our way to a local inn for a bit of food and rest. Just as I was at my most irritable, these farmers’ wives show up, shrilly demanding judgment in a case of theirs. I’d become known for making those on-the-spot decisions. I’d thought it was an efficient use of government resources—as long as I was out with the people, I could save them the trouble of complicated procedures with the courts—but I’d never regretted taking up the practice as heartily as I did in this moment.

The case was like this: one farmer’s horse had recently given birth, and the foal had wandered away from its mother and onto the neighbor’s property, where it laid down underneath an ox that was at pasture, and the second farmer thought this gave him a right to keep it. There were questions of fences and boundaries and who-owed-who for different trades going back at least a couple of decades—those women were determined to bring every past grievance to light in settling this case.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose what little patience I had. I snapped at both women and told them that my decision was that the foal could very well stay where it was.

Not my most reasoned decision, but it wasn’t totally baseless. I had common law going back centuries that supported such a ruling. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all. It wasn't as though a single foal was worth so much fuss. I went off to my meal and thought that was the end of it.

I’d forgotten all about it by the time I returned to the same village the next week. My man and I were crossing the bridge leading into the town when we found the road covered by a fishing net. An old man sat by the side of the road, shaking and casting the net just as if he were laying it out for a catch.

“What do you think you’re doing, obstructing a public road like this?” I asked him.

The man smiled genially at me and replied, “Fishing, majesty.”

I thought perhaps the man had a touch of sunstroke, so I was really rather kind when I explained to him how impossible it was to catch fish in the roadway.

The man just replied, “It’s no more impossible than an ox giving birth to a foal, majesty.”

He said it like he’d been coached, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that my wife was behind it all. The farmer’s wife who’d lost the foal had come to Faith for help, and my wife had advised the farmer to make the scene I’d described.

Oh, was I livid! Instead of coming to me in private to discuss her concerns about the ruling, Faith had made a public spectacle of me. She encouraged my own subjects to mock me! This was what came of making a farm girl into a queen! She’d live in my house and wear my jewels, and all the time she was laughing up her sleeve at me while she incited my citizens to insurrection! Before long, none of my subjects would respect me. I’d lose my crown, and the kingdom would fall to pieces—

I worked myself into a fine frenzy, thinking such things. At the time, I thought myself perfectly reasonable. I had identified a threat to the kingdom’s stability, and I would deal with it. The moment I came home, I found Faith and declared that the marriage was dissolved. “If you prefer to side with the farmers against your own husband,” I told her, “you can go back to your father’s house and live with them!”

It was quite the tantrum. I’m proud to say I’ve never done anything so shameful since.

To my surprise, Faith took it all silently. None of the fire that she showed in defending her father against me. Faith had this way, back then, where she could look at a man and make him feel like an utter fool. At that moment, she made me feel like a monster. I was already beginning to regret what I was doing, but it was buried under so much anger that I barely realized it, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to back down so easily from another decision.

After I said my piece, Faith quietly asked if she was to leave the palace with nothing.

I couldn’t reverse what I’d decided, but I could soften it a bit.

“You may take one keepsake,” I told her. “Take the one thing you love best from our chambers.”

I thought I was clever to make the stipulation. Knowing Faith, she’d have found some way to move the entire palace and count it as a single item. I had no doubt she’d take the most expensive and inconvenient thing she could, but there was nothing in that set of rooms I couldn’t afford to lose.

Or so I thought. No doubt you’re beginning to see that Faith always gets the upper hand in a battle of wits.

I kept my distance that evening—let myself stew in resentment so I couldn’t regret what I’d done. I kept to my library—not this one, the little one upstairs in our suite—trying to distract myself with all manner of books, and getting frustrated when I found I wanted to share pieces of them with Faith. I was downright relieved when a maid came by with a tea tray. I drank my usual three cups so quickly I barely tasted them—and I passed out atop my desk five minutes later.

Yes, Faith had arranged for the tea—and she’d drugged me!

I came to in the pink light of early dawn, my head feeling like it had been run over by a military caravan. My wits were never as slow as they were that morning. I laid stupidly for what felt like hours, wondering why my bed was so narrow and lumpy, and why the walls of the room were so rough and bare, and why those infernal birds were screaming half an inch from my open window.

By the time I had enough strength to sit up, I could see that I was in the bedroom of a farmer’s cottage. Faith was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise, wearing the dress she’d worn the first day I met her. Her hair was unbound, tumbling in golden waves all the way to her ankles. My heart leapt at the sight—her hair was one of the wonders of the world in those days, and I was so glad to see her when I felt so ill—until I remembered the events of the previous day, and was too confused and ashamed to have room for any other thoughts or feelings.

“Faith?” I asked. “Why are you here? Where am I?”

“My father’s home,” Faith replied, her eyes downcast—I think it’s the only time in her life she was ever bashful. “You told me I could take the one thing I loved best.”

Can I explain to you how my heart leapt at those words? There had never been a mind or a heart like my wife’s! It was like the moment she’d come to save her father—she made me feel a fool and feel glad for the reminder. I’d made the same mistake both times—let my head get in the way of my heart. She never made that mistake, thank heaven, and it saved us both.

Do you have something you want to add, Faith, darling? Don’t pretend I can’t see you lurking in the stacks and laughing at me! I’ll get as sappy as I like! If you think you can do it better, come out in the open and finish this story properly!

Faith

You tell it so beautifully, my darling fool boy, but if you insist—

I was forever grateful Dinah took that tea to Alistair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the loophole in his words—I was so afraid he’d see my ploy coming and stop me. But his wits were so blessedly dull that day. It was like outwitting a child.

When at last he came to, I was terrified. He had cast me out because I’d outwitted him, and now here I was again, thinking another clever trick would make everything well.

Fortunately, Alistair was marvelous—saw my meaning in an instant. Sometimes he can be almost clever.

After that, what’s there to tell? We made up our quarrel, and then some. Alistair brought me back to the palace in high honors—it was wonderful, the way he praised me and took so much blame on himself.

(You were really rather too hard on yourself, darling—I’d done more than enough to make any man rightfully angry. Taking you to Father’s house was my chance to apologize.)

Alistair paid the farmer for the loss of his foal, paid for the mending of the fence that had led to the trouble in the first place, and straightened out the legal tangles that had the neighbors at each others’ throats.

After that, things returned much to the way they’d been before, except that Alistair was careful never to think himself into such troubles again. We’ve gotten older, and I hope wiser, and between our quarrels and our reconciliations, we’ve grown into quite the wise pair of lovestruck fools. Take heed from it, whenever you marry—it’s good to have a clever spouse, but make sure you have one who’s willing to be the fool every once in a while.

Trust me. It works out for the best.

[thiccpersonality]

Damian (Gremlin) Wayne...and his even more gremlin-esque family

A newly introduced Damian sits in Bruce's Bat-chair, observing his new "siblings" with judgmental eyes. His emerald green ones rolling into the back of his head at the ex-carny babying him: "Look you fool, I shall let you know right now that your efforts to entertain me like I'm some child will prove fruitless. Whatever I have done to make you think I'm approachable, forgive me, because I already hate you."

Richard's smile slowly fades and he clears his throat. His medium blue eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare, his lips forming a tight lipped smile: "Right down to business I see? I'll have you know that you may be the baby, but I was Bruce's first one. Whatever title you held before doesn't matter now...in fact, I would suggest you get rid of it before someone helps you get rid of it."

Damian scoffs and picks at his nails, swiveling side to side in HIS father's chair: "Worried about the competition already? As expected from a weak-willed and spineless peasant such as yourself. I suggest whatever title you held before-" his green eyes rake up and down Richard's lithe form like a predator with it's prey-"Which from your disposition I would say you are the favorite-ah! Or I should say EX favorite."

Jason grunts from where he's punching at a dummy: "Look you little shit. All we did was exist-"

Damian: "Then stop."

Jason: *stops punching to glare at the small fry* "Ex-fucking-cuse me? I already un-existed before, I am NOT doing that again. And drop the attitude before I drop kick you back to your mother."

Damian: "How cute. It's like a puppy learning to bark for the first time. I can already tell you are desperate for my father's attention like a dehydrated ma-"

Jason: *cocks his gun and points it at Damian* "Did no one tell you along the way here that I don't mind killing for Bruce? Would've tried to get rid of Bozo the Clown over there if I knew I could get away with it. And then I'd shoot Bruce myself."

Tim looks up from his tablet with a sigh: "Trying to kill another bird I see? I guess I wasn't enough for you?"

Jason: "That was due to my pit induced rage. I had no control over that-" gestures towards Damian-"But this overly confident little bitch is a choice."

Tim raises his hands in defeat: "Just saying that you shouldn't threaten the new one so soon. Plus...I'm the smart one, Bruce needs me more than all of you combined. And I know everyone's weaknesses well, do you really want to test me?"

Damian sighs and finally hops down from the chair: "Childs play. My mother has made sure I knew everything from acrobatics to knowledge of cultures, religions, languages, books and other things you plebeians would surely combust from the brains it takes to memorize such things. She made sure I had it all so I can replace all of you. And father will be mine and mine alone."

Richard plasters a friendly smile back on his face: "Seems like the one spot she missed was etiquette. Don't worry kid, I'll be happy to show you the way things work around here."

Before the argument can get further out of hand, a clearing of the throat stops the four boys. They quickly turn to see Alfred standing at the bottom of the cave steps with a tray full of cookies.

Polished shoes click across the cave floors unhurriedly, the older gentleman quietly serving the boys their cookies and turning to leave. Not before clearing his throat once again and turning to give the four boys stern looks.

Alfred: "All this bickering is pointless. You all are now family and I hope you lot will act like it. Master Bruce is already making arrangements for your schooling young master Damian, and he expects a somewhat peaceful dinner tonight."

The older man can't help the small smirk he gives, one that is confident and self-assured. "Plus, as long as I am here, there is NOT much competition. You may be his first child master Richard, but I am his first partner in anything he's done. I do hope from here on out you ALL will remember your places. Good day."

The four boys frown at the authority radiating from the usually calm butler.

Damian clicks his tongue and slinks into the shadows while silently plotting his new victims demise.

(Hello everyone! I write fics on AO3 by the same name, Thicc_Personality. I'm sorry this is my first post and it's nothing but chaos, threats and crack...they truly (do) care for each other, they just don't know it atm XD. But I am a sucker for gremlin bat family and an oblivious Bruce to the very obvious competition. That or he lets it slide so easily (especially for Damian) cause he thinks his baby son is the cutest thing ever. If anyone manages to see this...well, I hope there was some enjoyment found here xD. Stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💜)

[charliehoennam]

love in disguise.

a/n: request (and lil moodboard!!!!) made by @harmonity-vibes. isn't she the fucking cutest?!

summary: after being swindled into a one-night-stand with his best friend, he learns the truth and the consequences that one night had.

pairing: tommy cahill x f!reader

warnings: language, a lil smut if you squint hard, angst, noncon activities, sleeping with someone under false identity, mentions of pregnancy, lying.

SHARING IS CARING, REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT

Walking through the grassy field, you took a deep breath to try and ease the churn of your stomach. You knew this was so wrong in so many ways and you couldn’t let this happen to Tommy.

Lisa was always known for being one of the prettiest and most popular girls since as long as you could remember. 

Her perfect smile and bright eyes had boys drooling over her. Her poised and polished attitude had their parents swooning and eager to set their sons up with her. Her high grades filled teachers up with pride and joy every single test.

Despite having similar physical traits and even being mistaken for her sometimes, you felt you could never amount to her – especially when you noticed how deflated or uninterested people instantly became realizing you weren’t her.

She couldn’t fool you though. After years of growing up alongside her, you knew she was anything but the sweet and perfect little role model she led people to believe. 

You knew just how vindictive and manipulative she could be to anyone who wronged her or simply to get whatever she wanted. That was how she managed to snag Tommy Cahill, known for sweet-talking his way out of any trouble he got caught in.

Tommy was much different than his older brother. Sam was an overachiever. He had the smarts, discipline and charm that had every father hoped his daughter would marry.

When he enlisted in the military after high school, it seemed like town’s respect for him simply skyrocketed, leaving Tommy behind in his shadow.

Although Sam was the charming and intelligent brother, Tommy was the exciting bad boy that had girls daydreaming. His dopey smile and big blue eyes had turned you into one of those girls.

When Lisa introduced him to you as her boyfriend, your heart sank. You didn’t really think you had much of a shot with him, but you couldn’t help wonder what he saw in her or if he knew that the sweet hand-written letters and notes she would sneak into his locker were actually written by you under her persuasive command.

You ended up befriending your high-school crush instead and remained just as that ever since then.

 When you realized how much he genuinely loved her, you accepted that he would never see you more than a friend.

It may not have been exactly what you wanted, but you settled for being his friend because he was just great at it. He loved making people laugh and you could trust him with things that you couldn’t even think about sharing with Lisa.

The love you had for him was exactly what made you feel so awful when you learned how unfaithful Lisa’s been to Tommy years after. Not just by lying to him and pretending to be someone she wasn’t whenever he was around, but her betrayal has become physical and you couldn’t stand for it.

That was the real reason you agreed to go to the town’s birthday bash. The theme, that year, was masquerade and inspired by Mardi Gras. Almost everyone looked to the town’s birthday bash because it consisted of great good, cheap drinks and lots of music and fun.

Tommy had been looking forward to the event and kept asking Lisa to go over and over again, but she’d always tell him that she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it because of work.

The truth was that she had planned a romantic getaway with her lover to spend some quality time together after their conflicting schedules finally lined up. Because of that, Lisa had the bright idea of you meeting up with Tommy in her place. She figured you looked a lot like each other and he’d be too drunk to notice the difference.

You refused and told her that it was wrong. It wasn’t like you were twins playfully taking each other’s place in high school. This was her boyfriend, who would most likely be physically affectionate with someone that he didn’t consent to.

Used to getting what she always wanted, she then threatened to spread your intimate selfies she had stolen from your phone. Although you couldn’t believe it, you knew her too well to know what she was capable of to get what she wants.

Her threat had your blood boiling with rage. You decided she’d gone too long getting her way all the time.

“Enough is enough,” you told yourself.

Tommy was a good guy and he deserved to know the truth. Everyone deserved to know the truth about who she really is, and you were done lying on her behalf.

You repeated that in your mind as you marched your way to the music stage.

Though your intimate photos could certainly ruin your reputation living in a town as small as yours, you accepted the possible consequences as along as the truth could come out.  You could always move and settle down elsewhere if it came to it.

The fair was already crowded by the time you arrived. People in festive, colorful and bejeweled masks roamed around the tents set up with games, food and speakers to fill the air with local music.

You frowned to yourself as people you barely or never spoke to waved at you or lifted their drinks towards you as you passed. Clearly, they must have mistaken you for Lisa.

First, Mrs. Mulberry. She always never remembers your name and only greets you when you’re out with one of your parents.

Secondly, there was Nate. He never really talked to you, unless it was to get one of your friends’ number.

Then there was Mr. Dawson. He always mistook you for Lisa when he saw you around town and facepalmed himself when you corrected him.

You knew, in the back of your mind, that this was not real. They weren’t greeting you; they were greeting Lisa. But for once, just once, it felt so good to walk in her shoes. To be loved, seen and smiled to by everyone that walked past you.

Weaving through the crowd that engulfed the largest park in town, you saw his familiar silhouette from afar. He stood watching a band playing off to the side of the closed road, beer in his large hand. His head bounced along to the music as his foot tapped along to the bass.

As you walked towards him, your hand reached up about to remove the black and silver mask Lisa demanded you wear and you watched him turning towards you.

Feeling your presence, he turned and your insides melted from the bright grin he flashed towards you, stilling your hand and letting the mask remain in place.

In that moment, you felt the blood rush in your veins, traveling in time to the shy high-school you again – only this time you were his.

Like a deer in headlights, you drifted over the grass fully expecting him to recognize you. The grassy ground beneath you felt like clouds grazing over plains with steady ease.

“You made it!” he chuckled raising his hands to your cheeks, pulling you into a heart-stopping kiss. “I was starting to think you were gonna stand me up.”

It couldn’t have last longer than a couple seconds, but you were almost certain the world had completely stopped on its axis and sent you into the neverending black abyss of floating cold.

The lack of gravity that grounded you seeped into your mind with the wordless spell he suddenly had you under. Bewitched by his kiss, all self-control had successfully been drained.

“I-”you started to speak, but he cut you off.

“Come check out this band! They’re actually from Louisiana!”

 His bright blue eyes gleamed with an excitement that may have been heightened by the alcohol he was drinking.

Every word you were about to speak would be cut off by a remark on the band’s talent or a question about the fair, leaving you to burn up in the mesosphere between morality and desire with every kiss he surprised you with.

Although you knew it wasn’t right, you gave in to the lie and decided to rain ash over the land of repressed dreams and desires you had forced yourself to shield over the years with heavy clouds of selflessness for a single night.

Diving into the night head first, you went along with the lie throughout the night and washed its bitter taste in your throat with drinks. You didn’t think it would’ve gotten as far as him taking you back to his apartment.

Tommy was just as drunk as you were and unable keep his hands or his lips off you.

The alcohol in your bloodstream numbed you from reality and welcomed you warmly into an ocean of pleasure you’d longed for like a drought riddled desert welcomes an endless rain.

Cocooned in his warm touches and hungry kisses, you made your home there for a couple of hours. The thought of having him inside you, filling you up with a delicious stretch, had your panties drenched.

You had always wanted him to yourself and – believing the vigorous use of your birth control which you made sure to never forget – you made the decision to be a little selfish and indulge in a one-night stand.

You insisted that you both kept your masks on to add to the fun you shared in his bed and Tommy happily went along with it.

Looking over the drunken slumber that he quickly slipped into, you sat on the edge of his bed and admired his features that seemed so gentle and soft at the moment. You ached to reach out and caress every single one of them, to show how appreciated they deserved to be.

But you stopped yourself with your hand in midair.

The silence of his bedroom was so loud as guilt and disgust with yourself trickled in your mind through slow sobriety.

With tears quickly building in your vision, you quietly gathered your clothes from his bedroom floor and sneaked out of his room to dress quickly in the living room.

Shoes in hands, your feet pattered against the cold sidewalk as you paced through dark streets as if you could run from your guilt.

Despite that one-night stand with Tommy, you later found out that it had been in vain. Lisa’s affair was brought to his attention when a neighbor had mentioned seeing her with someone she had introduced as his cousin Adam at a diner on the outskirts of town. Only he didn’t have a cousin named Adam.  

Tommy went into a downward spiral after that. Drinking and substance abuse had become his escape and way of coping with the pain as he felt it was the only thing that could numb him enough to go about his day.

Watching him go down that path wasn’t easy. Watching the strip on your pregnancy test turn blue was even harder. Although you tried to help him however you could, you knew you couldn’t tell him the truth about that night out of fear that it could be the last drop to push him over the edge into consequences no one could bring him back from.

When you heard about him going off to jail for armed robbery, you were surprised and couldn’t believe he would really do such a thing.

Tommy was always so kind-hearted; you refused to believe it until you watched him confess to the crime remorsefully in court. The way he couldn’t even look at the poor victim just proved that it was true.

Despite it all, Tommy was still your friend and you decided to not give up on him like other people, including his own dad, had.

Over the constant e-mails and letters you wrote back and forth, he shared how prison had been actually helping him sober up; that the classes he’d been taking helped him become more aware and clear-minded. You were happy for him and anxious to see him, so you decided to pay him a visit.

What Tommy hadn’t expected was to see you with a large swollen belly. Needless to say, he was shocked but overall happy for you as he bombarded you with questions about how far along you were, what was the gender of the baby, why you hadn’t shared the amazing news with him before.

As your friend, he was just genuinely thrilled because he knew you’d make a great mother. Aside from that, Tommy always knew he wanted to have kids and he had a way with them since as long as you could remember.

You knew he deserved to know the truth. You tried to tell him many times; the crumpled drafts of letters you decided not to send him were proof of your attempt to be honest.

But the words just weighed like rocks in the back of your throat, dropping to your stomach to infect you with their burden and ripple out with waves of sickness.

He was doing so well, getting cleaned and focusing on his future, making plans to be better.

Struck by the familiar fear of ruining his life even more, you opted to stay silent and to lie about the baby’s father, telling him and everyone else that asked that the man was just someone you’d met at a bar.

It’s been a few years since that night and all you have to remember it by is your memory… and your now 4-year-old so, Charlie.

When you heard he was finally out of jail and clean, you strongly believed it was the right time to tell him the truth. You owed him that much.

You hung a bit after he was free, occasionally meeting up for a coffee either at a coffee shop or at your place.

When you were finally ready to come clean, he told you about Sam’s disappearance that had been ruled a death which quickly changed your mind again.

You didn’t see much of him after that since he had decided to concentrate on his family. You remembered how he talked about Grace; about how pretty and what a great mother she is; how amazing she is for letting him reconnect with his nieces.

Once again, you felt the invisibility swallowing you back into its depths. He would never look at you as anything more than just a friend.

Although it hurt to accept, you figured it was the push you need to tell him. Until Sam came home.

His family really went through with Sam after he didn’t come home the same Sam that everyone knew and loved.

Out of respect for them, you decided to distance yourself again from Tommy. Everything you learned about him and his family, like Sam’s mental breakdown or his admittance in a mental institution for war veterans or his return home, was from rumors and word of mouth that spread through the town.

It’s a sunny fall morning and orange, brown and yellows leave are sprinkled over your mother’s lawn as you rake them up into piles over the front yard while Charlie draws on the driveway with his colorful chalk.

“Mommy, I maded me and you! Come see!” Charlie shouts excitedly as his little legs race over to tug on your shirt.

“Alright, I’m going” you chuckle holding the rake in one hand and his little hand in the other.

Your compliment on his drawing earns you a bright smile from him as you bend at the hip to kiss his head until the sound of crunching leaves catch your attention.

“Uncle Tommy!” Charlie cheers quickly dropping his chalk as he races towards Tommy.

“There’s my favorite little man!” Tommy quickly sets the decorated gift bag down on the driveway to lift Charlie up and give him a proper hug. “I hear you’re kicking butt in karate. You gonna teach me a couple moves, huh?”

“Uh huh! I learn how to pushkit!”  Charlies responds proud of himself.

“What’s pushkit?” Tommy frowns confused.

“He means push kick. You push and kick at the same time” you smile intervening. “It’s how he’s opening doors now.”

“That sounds useful,” Tommy chuckles setting Charlie back on the ground to pick his gift bag up and steps closer to you. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

“Pretty good” you nod. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.

“Yeah, that’s on me… Just been going through some family drama. ‘m sure you’ve heard about it already. Word travels fast here.”

“It does, yeah. You uh wanna come inside?”

“I’d love that” he nods with a smile.

After telling your son to come inside to wash up for lunch time, you lead the boys into the house.

“Your mom around? I brought you guys a gift too.”

“No, she’s at some pottery club with her friends today.”

“Mommy, can I has my pwesent?” Charlie asks tugging on your hand, big blue eyes shining up at you.

“Yeah, baby. Of course. I’ll let uncle Tommy give it to ya, while I make us chicken nuggets.”

“Oh, sweet. Can I stay for lunch too?” Tommy grins setting the bag on the kitchen counter to pull out Charlie’s gift.

You nod at him with a smile and remind him he’s always welcome in your house.

Leading Charlie into the living room to open his gift, you notice the size of the wrapped present that already has his eyes wide with excitement.

Watching from the kitchen as you prepare lunch, you smile listening to Charlie’s endless thank you’s as he unwraps and finds his brand-new doctor playset kit.

“I remember you said you wanna be a doctor, right?” Tommy smirks widely at the boy. “Lemme open it for you.”

Tommy is more than patient as he untwists the plastic ties that keep all the fake equipment in place.

“Can I be your first patient?” he asks playing along with the young child’s imagination. “I think I got a problem with my shoulder. It’s been hurting a lot and I really need to get it checked out by a doctor.”

“Ok,” Charlie smiles taking the placing stethoscope from the box to put it on. He holds the end part of it to Tommy’s back and asks him to breathe, remembering what the doctor does to him every time he goes there.

“Now I has to check your eyes and-and your mouth too.”

“And the ears too right?”

“Yeah, the ears too!” Charlie nods.

Tommy smirks as he glances at you from where he’s sat in the living room floor, letting Charlie use the fake stethoscope to listen to his back.

The whole scene takes you away for a moment and makes you feel like you’re really just watching a father and his son spending quality time together. It also makes you feel even worse for having kept this secret from him for so long.

“Ok, you got just a boo-boo here” Charlie emphasizes pointing to Tommy’s shoulder. “So you need is a mommy kiss because a mommy kiss make all the boo-boos go away.”

“Do I need a prescription for that?”

“Yeah!”

Charlie looks around for anything he can write down on and takes the notepad from beside the residential phone to scribble down “mami kizz” on a sheet of paper before tearing it from the spine to hand the note to Tommy.

“You can ask my mommy cause hers is the bestest,” Charlie replies squatting down to take the plastic needle from the box.

“Will do, doc” tommy smirks as he stands up. “Thank you.”

Lost in his own little word, Charlies takes all his favorite stuffed animals and action figures and lines them up on the couch while Tommy walks over to the kitchen.

“Got a prescription for a kiss, sweetheart. Doctor’s orders” he smiles sly at you.

You shake your head, not sure if he’s serious so you blow it off with a smile and thank him for the present.  

“I got something for you too, you know,” he says digging into the paper bag.

You modestly refuse, telling him that he didn’t need to get you anything; that you’re just simply happy to see him. He won’t take no for an answer, so you give in and take the rectangular box from his hand.

You tug at the red ribbon to untie it and open the box to find a beautiful and delicate, simple necklace that you just know cost Tommy a lot of money.

“Tommy, this is too much. I-I can’t accept this” you say shaking your head as you look up at him in shock.

“No, don’t worry. I want you to have it, for all your help when I was in jail, for visiting me and all… I really appreciate that you didn’t forget about me and I wanted to get you something nice.”

“It’s nice, it’s really nice. But I can’t…”

“Why not?” he chuckles frowning at you. “My money ain’t good here?”

“No, that’s not it,” you start.

The words that form in your head start to weigh like stones in your throat. You try to swallow them down, but it’s time Tommy learned the truth. You just hope that he can take it.

As you begin to tell him the truth about that night, his face contorts with confusion and anger. You apologize over and over again, although it’s not nearly enough to make up for it, trying to explain how you felt you had no choice.

He shakes his head and takes a step back away from you like he doesn’t want to believe you would ever be capable of lying and betraying him.

“Nah, I don’t fucking believe that,” he frowns shaking his head. “How the fuck could you do that? I fucking trusted you and, all this time, you were fucking lying to me too?! All these fucking years?!”

His raised voice catches Charlie’s attention and has the young boy frozen in the middle of the living room.

As Tommy takes a deep breath to control himself, you both glance over at the young boy. While you make your way towards Charlie, Tommy takes in his physical features. He realizes the similarities and chuckles to himself, not out of amusement but out of disbelief.

You quickly rush to the living room and tell your son to go upstairs to play in your shared room. The big blue teary eyes that stare up at you in fear fill you regret for letting yourself get caught up in your own feelings that night.

Despite that fact that you love Charlie more than anything and would never regret having him, you do regret that you hid this secret from Tommy for so long. But you know how explosive he can be and you can’t let Charlie see that.

Charlie, as sweet and obedient as he always is, hesitates as he notices Tommy pacing back and forth in the kitchen to keep his calm.

He’s afraid and tells you he doesn’t want to leave his mommy, but you insist and tell him everything’s alright, asking him to check up on the other stuffed animals he’s got upstairs now that he’s a doctor.  

Tommy sighs as he runs a hand over his face. As angry as he may be, the last thing he wants is for a child to see him as monster, let alone a child he’s really close to and could possibly be his.

“Everything’s ok, Charlie. Uncle Tommy just got a little mad, but everything’s ok,” Tommy says chiming in to reassure Charlie with a raised hand and a forced smile that you can see right through, but it’s enough to convince your son to go upstairs.

Walking to the stairs, he looks up the steps to make sure Charlie is out of the hearing radius before marching over to you.

“Is he mine?”

You go silent staring up at him, too afraid to tell him the truth.

The guilt bubbles inside you, weighing heavily in your chest. There’s nothing you can say to fix this.

Tears stream from your eyes. You keep swiping them away, but they don’t stop coming. You know nothing will be the same again between you and your best friend.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I’m not fucking stupid. Is he mine?”

“Yes…” you whisper.

“Jesus,” he scoffs running over his large hand over the buzzcut he’s been sporting since he’s been out of jail. “I-I can’t even fucking look at you right now.”

“Tommy, I’m s-“ You can’t even finish your apology.

He’s already storming out and slamming the door behind him as you stand in the kitchen crying silently to yourself.

You feel worse about it with each passing day, staring at his contact on your phone, debating if you should try to reach out.

Tommy used to call you at least once a day, just to check up and make sure you and your family are doing ok. But, now? You can’t even get him to reply to your texts.

It’s been a couple months since your fallout and Tommy hasn’t been able to get your last encounter off his mind.

Watching his nieces play in their backyard makes him think about Charlie and how much he misses him. Even though he’s not sure he can forgive you so soon, he hates that Charlie has to suffer from it. He’s just a kid, his kid now. He’s not to blame.

Tommy didn’t realize how badly he always wanted to be a father until his nieces came into his life. Until he was locked in a cage, counting every second of his life that was going to waste.

Talking to Sam helped him put things into perspective and made it clear to him that he had a decision to make.

In the last of the ignored texts, you told him you could raise Charlie on your own as you have for the past few years. Being a father is a decision Tommy has to make on his own and whatever he decided, you would respect wholeheartedly.

He never replied, but he hasn’t stopped thinking about it feeling caught in between the violation and betrayal of his trust and his urge to be a father. It’s what he’s always wanted; to be a father that he wishes his could be, but he would’ve never thought that it would have to be like this.

As the dying leaves crunch under the weight of his heavy boots, he makes his way towards your house and knocks on the front door.

Setting plates and silverware on the table for dinner, your mom waves a hand at you and claims she’ll answer it assuming it must be one of the neighbors.

“Tommy! What a surprise.” she says greeting him with a smile.

“H-hi, ma’m. Sorry to drop in like this, I was hoping I could talk t-“

“I got it, ma. It’s alright.”

You walk toward the door, swapping places with your mom as she finishes setting the table.

You invite him to come in, but he shakes his head avoiding your eyes, so you step up out and close the door behind you.

Hugging the knit cardigan your mom made for you closer around your body, your arms fold across your chest. An awkward silence lingers in the chilly air. You feel like you’ve already said so much that already hurt him badly, so what else could you really say at this point?

“How’s Charlie doing? H-He ok?”

“Y-yeah, yeah. He’s ok,” you reply in a soft tone, hoping to avoid any more arguments. “Kinda misses you though. Asks about you from time to time.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything to that. He’s not really sure what to say. But the fact that he can barely even look at you fills you with hopelessness, so you try to brace yourself for the permanent goodbye he’s about to give you.

“I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me to get over what you told me… But I do know that I wanna be there for Charlie. I want him to grow up knowing that he’s got a dad who loves him no matter what.”

Surprised by his decision, you wonder if it has anything to do with his own father. If it could be Tommy simply wanting to be the father he wishes he had, or if it could be influenced by his desire to prove to his dad that he’s not a complete fuck-up.

“Yeah. Of course,” you nod quickly. “T-that’s absolutely fine by me. I think that would be good… You don’t have to worry about money though. I mean, you can help with whatever you can, but I don’t wanna make this about money. I just want you to do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m gonna help out with money obviously, but I wanna spend time with him… Take him out to the park, play ball and that sorta thing.”

“He would love that” you smile thinking about Charlie’s excitement.

“This is just for him though.”

You quickly drop your smile and nod as you look down at your feet, biting the corner of your mouth as you wonder if Tommy will ever be able to forgive you.

“Y-yeah… I get that. For Charlie.”

[sea-of-dust]

whahsbebshdd i’m rlly shy abt this and i saw the bedman hcs you wrote and i loved it so much it had my legs kicking and my hair twirling

requesting bedman x a really loving kinda clingy reader,,,,,,

Bedman x GN! Clingy! Loving! Reader

There's no summary it's general headcannons annons letting me be werid!!

N: YIPPEEEEEEE, dont be shy about future requests when open asks are welcomed! thank you for the request!

Warnings: spoilers for bedman during strive and xrd, and minor spoilers for bedmans? Story

He's not escaping you, like ever not like he wants to anyway. "I'm leaving!" "Not without me!" You rush toward the door "you're still in your pjs" "does it matter?" He sighs disappintedly, you could probably do a pushup for everytime he sighs and end up swole and then he'd sigh again

You blame him for being likeable for you being as loving as you are. His kisses even though they're just small taps on the cheek from him they always leave you wanting him to do it again. "Stop" "I'm not doing anything tho" "you're about to ask me if I want to let you brush my hair" "....no" "do it" "yay!" Atleast someone takes care of his physical appearance for em, he's getting free spa days without someone complaining over how much he nitpicks. "Under my nails have been a bit dirty too" "I'll get it" "and there might be a pimple near my leg" "I'll pop it" "dirt in my glasses aswell" you stop what you're doing just to stare it him blankly, even though his eyes were closed he could still feel you staring bullets. "What?" "Are they even prescription?"

He'd enjoy the times he got to appear in your dreams, he's awake able to talk...alot...but his voice is pretty it's not like he'll rant so hard he raps about the same topic twice "when we talk about survival of the fittest-" that was all u listened to before just hearing a mumble of his voice, him just going on and on with you nodding your head. Other than the long 12 page essay front to back that comes out of his mouth he can also be quite engaged in dreams, specifically yours. He'd 100% ask you the next dream you have with him in it. "So what did you dream about?" Your eyes widen before your face goes stone cold "a discount at the supermarket and me trying to make homemade ice cream sandwiches that ended up exploding" he pushes up his glasses "is that so?" "Yea" "because a little birdie told me you were dreaming of me" you giggle, foolish mistake infront of him of all people, you'd have to wipe that dream out of your brain before he gets it outta you

He'd act like he doesn't like how much physical affection, hed be all "love is feable it isn't going to last and most people that are motivated by it end up crying in someone's couch" but everytime you headed his warnings, he'd get a tad...pretty annoyed. "Am I disgusting to you?" "What?" "You haven't hugged me for an entire 6 minutes is there a bug on me?" "I thought you didn't like me being that way" "I do" for the first time you sigh disapointedly "Alright buddy" "so you're not even going to call me Romeo now" you somehow can feel him putting hands on his hips, expect him to be ranting in his dreams because he didn't ever expect you to call him anything other than Romeo and not hug him for 6 minutes. You've learned giving him a small kiss is usually enough for him to forgive you.

You're also the person behind how polished the bed is, with Romeo or not. "You've gotten a bit rusty" it gently squeezes your hand "I ment physically, I'll take it off I wonder if it'll hurt you like this" Delilah trusts you a bit with him not knowing the extent of your relationship. "Don't touch him too much" "you think he'll attack me?" "Maybe" you pat the beds hand "don't worry I can fix him" you feel both siblings give judgemental looks. "That's crazy I can hear your brother sighing and calling me a fool"

[finniebae]

Yandere! Boris Pavlikovsky Headcanons

TW: Suicidal Thoughts/Actions/Threats

You have your hands full with him

He speaks to you in a strange language that you don't quite understand

Actually- he speaks to you in multiple languages; None of which you can understand

He likes when you get frustrated

"Why can't you just speak in English?"

"What's the fun in that, doll?"

He usually speaks in another language when he either doesn't want you to understand what he's saying or when he's being vulnerable, but is also scared of you judging him, so he speaks in his native tongue. Vulnerable= Native tongue/ Wants to annoy you= Polish

You start to learn some of his words, especially the ones he uses frequently

You decide to try and at least learn native language and maybe later Polish

Imagine his surprise when you respond back to him in his language

He was taken by surprise and flustered

But then he was angry, because how long have you been able to understand him? He feels like you've made a fool out of him

You have to reassure him that was never your intention

He was still mad, but then there's a slight part of him that finds it kind of hot when you speak in Russian- Though with your American accent, it isn't perfect, but still kind of hot

He'll begin to innate conversation in Russian just to hear you speak it

^ Gets upset when you respond in English

Teaches you Russian Nursey Rhymes/Stories/and songs, just so you can repeat them to him

He doesn't have many women in his life, especially ones that care about him/look out for his better interest, so when he does something bad and you reprimand him ["You could have gotten hurt! What were you thinking??"], he's confused. You care about him? The thought never occurred to him that someone would actually care about him

He holds you extremely close to his heart

You are the only person who could hurt him and the thought scares him. You mean so much to him and he's afraid of you finding someone better

Will threaten to off himself if you ever leave. He knows it's evil, but he can't lose you. He needs you. He loves you

[shuhuaspookie]

Hiii!!

Aria | 14 | minor | she/her

I love -> art!! | shuhua | scrapbooking | sometimes reading | maths puzzles | music | cats | spicy food | mountains | small bags | ice cream | rain | rose | nail polishes | RINGS | elephants | mantis | olivia rodrigo | melanie martinez | octopus!!! | james beaufort :0

Favorite books/series/ movie -> maxton hall | the inheritance games | shatter me | good girl's guide to murder (on 3rd one) | cheat sheet | attack on titan | kny | enola holmes | adam project | Girl from nowhere | all junji ito mangas | more which I cant remember

Currently favorite song -> (can u tell from the theme)

Random -> capricorn | I LOVE SUMMER | i love love love drawing!!! | love maths and biology (bad at both) | im trying to learn how to cook!! i yell through text almost all time so sorry i will use lots of emojis while talking to u :D

MY MOOTS I LOVE U SO MUCH <33 @never-enough-novels @mqstermindswift @urbanflorals @banilikesfictionalpeople @silence-between-seconds @montgomerv @the0nlyallison @lanterns-and-daydreams @daydream-of-a-wallflower @skeelly @luminewhosthat @justalunaticfangirl @the-red-archer @ariscats @f4iry-bell @gergthecat @kingofdandelions @doyoujustnotwantto @sophiesonlinediary @untamedwind01 @hearthown @in-the-sweet-november-rain @gethimbackpdf @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @reminiscentreader @nqds @foaming-sea @a-beautiful-fool @die-brot-frau @anxietea413 @dorothheaa @halucynator @leaskisses444 @lyrakanefanatic @sleepinginmygrave @holdmyteaplease @hawthornesbiggestfan (please tell me if you want to be added or removed <33)

[eddiegettingshot]

Eddie would definitely contemplate giving the sal treatment to anyone who so much as looks funny at buck. Like my beautiful favourite person ever is here cooking us the best eggs you will ever eat and you cant even stop what youre doing to say hi. And then theyre like cap Im literally polishing the fire truck like you asked 5 minutes ago. Literally he (politely) chews them up in front of the whole house and then threatens to transfer them if they dont eat every last bit of buck’s breakfast in apology. (The 133 dont mention buck at all to probies because eddie’s buck wrath is their form of probie hazing)

this is even funnier when you think about the kind of captain eddie probably is usually. like he’s literally so chill and it usually takes a little while before new people learn that he’s an embarrassing loser dad Underneath. except for buck shows up and he is immediately vibrating like YAY BUCK!! and acting like a besotted fool. so if anyone was under the impression that eddie was normal and cool well they will no longer be mistaken!

[xelasrecords]

The Oasis Is Beautiful From Up Close

Han Jumin x Reader x Kim Jihyun

NSFW

Jumin, you, and Jihyun are having an intimate photography session and fooling around because you and your lovers are no longer at death's door.

A vee polyamory in which you're romantic with Jumin and Jihyun while their relationship is platonic.

Words: 2.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Hold it—yes, right there. You're lovely, my dearest," Jihyun said in a half crouch.

Your sharp gaze held the camera steady as shutter sounds filled his cluttered bedroom. He didn't set up any professional lighting and relied on the late afternoon sun to accentuate your profile. After doing a lot of shoots together, you both preferred this session to be more personal and intimate without the high-end magazine polish.

This started because you had been teasing him more than usual, after all. From not wearing a bra to flouncing about his home in a scanty dress the whole day, Jihyun's hands had been all over you until he collected himself enough to commence this photoshoot.

Jumin had also been the one to suggest you not to wear anything underneath.

They both liked what they saw and you liked being watched with unrestrained desire.

Jumin was now looming behind his best friend, clinging so close that Jihyun had to shift him bodily away. It didn't matter though. He would just glue himself back to Jihyun's side. He needed to learn everything there was to know about modelling photography or he would be cursed in not being able to capture his beloved's beauty.

He had repeated this more times than you could be bothered to count.

When Jihyun accidentally knocked his elbow into Jumin for the third time, you decided to put an end to Jihyun's suffering. Jumin's ribs would live to see another day, but you weren't sure if you would at the rate this photoshoot was going. "Jumin, do you want to take a picture of my corpse?"

Jumin gave you an incredulous look. "Why would I ever dream of doing that?"

"That would happen if you don't let Jihyun take good pictures of me. I'm rotting here. Rotting."

His brows furrowed and he lifted your arms and twisted your head side to side. "No, you're not. You're perfectly alive. And beautiful."

"Jumin, could you please move aside? You're covering her whole body." Jihyun's voice wafted from behind.

Jumin uttered an apology and swiftly assumed his original position beside Jihyun. He studied Jihyun's laid-back stance, the camera's distance from his body, and the firmness of his grip, and mimicked him with stiff precision. "So that is how you take a good shot," he murmured.

You rolled your eyes and laughed. It was impossible to be annoyed at him when his curiosity about mundane things kicked in. You struck another pose, looking over your shoulder with your back turned to them. You tried to compose yourself, but the sight of Jumin suspended in a robotic half-crouch was so absurd that you had to cover your smile with your arm.

"Jihyun isn't crouching anymore, you know."

Jumin's hands didn't fall away from his phantom camera, fingers crooked to form a perfect rectangle. "But he was when he took the previous shot."

In a minuscule gesture at Jihyun, you motioned your head towards Jumin.

A childlike grin bloomed across Jihyun's face. He directed his camera on Jumin's trembling body and clicked the shutter button.

Jumin blinked at him. "Isn't she the muse of the day?" he asked, still retaining the same posture.

"You're much more entertaining to shoot than me," you chirped.

Jihyun let out an airy chuckle. "I'm giving her a break. Perhaps you want to take the spotlight while she's resting?"

"She's supposed to be the model of the day."

You looked pointedly at his bent legs then glanced at Jihyun, who only shook his head in resignation. You pressed your mouth before laughter escaped you and posed again. Jumin's eyes flitted back and forth, trying to comprehend what had passed between you and Jihyun.

You shrugged and blew a kiss at him, mouthing I love you, and Jihyun captured your gesture. When he approached you to take a close-up shot of your face, Jumin inched closer as well. He was so desperate to take a peek at the viewfinder that he butted heads with Jihyun.

Jihyun yelped and rubbed at his temple. "Sometimes it feels as if I have adopted a koala who can't let go of me," he said, albeit with a smile.

"You feed him with too much patience."

"Would you two stop bad-mouthing my effort in taking focused shots of you? This is unacceptable. What have I done to withstand this slander? You should be more understanding of my love." Jumin huffed out his suit jacket and crossed his arms with a dramatic flair. "And I would make an adorable koala."

You placed Jumin's hand on your waist and he drew you in by habit. "Our next photoshoot can be of you in a koala costume." You tickled his chin.

"We have been very understanding of you, my friend." Jihyun clapped a hand on his shoulder. "No professional photographer or model would want their session to be obstructed."

"And yet here you are, still alive and breathing in this room." You winked. "Aren't we generous?"

Jumin scoffed. "Do you suppose I should be alive and breathing somewhere else?"

You planted a kiss on his lips. "We want you here."

Not a moment later, you felt his fingers weaving into your hair, tugging at it with pleasurable force. You pushed your body up against him when you heard zooming and clicking sounds from Jihyun. Jumin ran his thumb across your shoulder and slowly dragged the strap of your silk dress down, humming in affirmation. You gasped as he trailed kisses down your neck and sucked at the skin on your collarbone.

In the haze of it, you blindly grabbed at Jihyun's shirt. He complied without resistance and positioned himself behind you. You slumped against him, indulging in the warmth of their bodies enveloping you. You could feel them everywhere; Jihyun was tucking your hair aside to kiss a sensitive spot behind your ear, while Jumin's hand had crawled up your inner thigh and was sliding his fingers into you.

You reached up for Jihyun, and his lips were on yours in an instant. It was a soft nip in the beginning, searching for your permission, and you gladly let him in. He deepened the kiss and your hips bucked against Jumin's fingers, earning a chuckle from him.

With his other hand, Jumin took the camera from Jihyun, freeing him to use both hands to roam across your breasts. Then slowly, Jumin pulled out his fingers and brushed them against your swollen lips. You sucked on them without a word, keeping your gaze on him the whole time while you swirled your tongue around his fingers. You knew he liked seeing you like this, knew what he was imagining you doing instead.

You wanted to turn around to face Jihyun, but Jumin stopped you. "Don't move. I want to immortalise you in this state. The lust in your expression is terribly tempting." He smiled at you and stepped back. "Jihyun, wrap one arm around her and cradle her face with your free hand. Show her off to me."

"He is strangely good at directing," you murmured into Jihyun's ear.

"It's hardly strange when a huge part of his job is telling people what to do." Jihyun obeyed Jumin's directions and pulled you closer. His touch was exhilarating, and the thrill rose exponentially when you noticed Jumin's satisfaction.

"Fortunately for the two of you, you get off on being told what to do," said Jumin who had an acute sense of hearing when it concerned Jihyun's and your opinions.

You smirked. He did always know you well.

Jihyun kissed your temple. You leaned your head against his chest and his hand snaked up your neck and rested on your jaw. You parted your lips, sucking in a breath, and pushed out your chest until your rumpled dress almost exposed your body.

"You can take a photo now," said Jihyun.

Jumin bent forward at a lower angle than was probably necessary, and clicked the shutter button with a palpable jolt that reverberated throughout his limbs. You raised your eyebrows and Jihyun tilted his head in question.

Then, Jumin had the audacity to look shocked at the brief preview on the camera screen.

Disbelief passed across his features as he fell back onto the bed.

You suppressed your smile and sat beside him with Jihyun in tow. The said bed was really a mattress strewn across the hardwood floor with swathes of blankets thrown atop it. Jumin had not given up on coaxing Jihyun to buy a proper bedframe, but you had.

Whatever floated his boat into dreamland.

"Let me see," you said.

Jumin scrunched his nose and zoomed into the picture. "Your nose and lips are clear. Not so much of your eyes, or even your hair. But Jihyun is a blur."

"Fitting." You looked deep in thought. "You know how hard it is to comprehend his essence as a whole."

"My essence?" Jihyun's response came out bewildered.

Jumin folded the heap of blankets so Jihyun wasn't constantly shifting in place, but Jihyun just draped it back around Jumin. Knowing that his body ran colder than the rest of you, you were touched that Jihyun was thoughtful to this degree. He had always been. It was one of the many qualities you liked from him.

"Please don't theorise. This isn't an art piece up for discussion," said Jumin.

"I'm simply giving you a leeway to rationalise your mistake," you said, sitting sideways in Jihyun's lap. He was still looking at you quizzically, but he placed his hand on the top of your thigh and squeezed it.

It sent a buzz of current throughout your skin and you shivered.

"I will do better." Jumin sighed. "Someday I will master Jihyun's photography skills and finally deserve your compliments."

You ran your hand through his tousled black hair. "You take good enough pictures."

"I'm aware that I have not been able to capture all your facial features in one shot."

"My nose was quite pretty in the one you took yesterday."

"That was the only visible thing in the photo."

"You have humbled him." Jihyun chuckled. "He was never this receptive of his photography flaws. I had given up and chosen to keep the blurred Elizabeth the Third pictures to myself. It's the intention that matters, after all."

"Intention must translate into execution," Jumin insisted. "It's imperative that I practice as much as I can."

"Today's picture is already an improvement." You climbed out of Jihyun's lap and lay on the bed. "Come, I've missed you two." You patted the space on your sides.

Jihyun flung himself on the mattress with a soft thud, arms out wide, and your body bounced on impact. You laughed and wormed into his embrace. The golden rays from outside the window fell on just the right places: his lush turquoise hair, the delicate arch of his nose, and his pale, pale skin so thin that you could easily discern the blue veins running below.

You had to convince yourself that he was healthy. He was all right. All of you were finally happy.

His blood was no longer shed on skirmish grounds. He could finally exist without having to fight for his right to be. Jumin did not have to uphold Jihyun's reason to live anymore, because he had found many reasons to.

Or maybe there were only two. But that was enough.

He gleamed now, instead of being swallowed by the light. He was wholly, completely Jihyun.

Jumin knelt on the mattress and looked down at you with tenderness so sincere that your heart clenched. "How long I have waited for this moment," he said, his slender fingers lightly dancing along your cheek.

"It has been months, but I still can't believe our dream could be a reality." You kissed the inside of his wrist, letting your lips linger on the small of his skin where his pulse beat. "It had seemed like a foolish delusion then, but now I get to relax with you without anything weighing my mind. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm missing something crucial and hell will be unleashed upon us again before we're ready."

"You can believe it now. Both of you have fought so hard," said Jihyun. "We're safe, and no one is in danger. Especially not me," he added, and winced. "I know I have been the source of all your headaches."

"No use dwelling on something we have forgiven you for." Jumin seized Jihyun's wrist. "But I would prefer it if you don't attempt another martyrdom. No more in-fighting. No more battling against rogue ministers and cult leaders. Not if I can help it." Seeing Jihyun about to protest, he cut in. "You have used up your apologies for this month. Don't you dare try."

Jihyun obediently shut his mouth.

All of you had lost too much to go through another wave of apocalypse. RFA almost disbanded and you carried the guilt everywhere for not being able to keep them together. C&R nearly went down, crushed under the weight of false accusations, dragging Jumin with it. Jihyun would never redeem himself back in Rika's eyes, but she came out alive and was in a hospital far away. Lost affection was better than a life lost.

Every day, the three of you help each other to live. One day, then another, then another. Nightmares still came, but at least they didn't come true anymore.

You hoped they wouldn't.

The security that came with freedom was hard-won. You didn't intend to lose it again.

On that note, having security also meant you were free to throw bizarre questions out there.

"I have a riddle," you blurted.

Synchronised groans came from both of them.

"It seems we're about to be tortured," Jumin said.

"Perhaps she will have mercy on us this time," suggested Jihyun.

Putting on the most earnest expression you could muster, you turned to Jihyun. "Who would you choose if you could only save one of us?"

Jihyun's eyes grew wide and Jumin exclaimed, "Why would you do that to him?"

You shrugged. "Too simple? I'll add more details to the scene."

"You possess a hidden sadistic desire," said Jumin.

Jihyun laughed. "All right, let's hear it out."

"Jumin drives us into a lake and the car is rapidly sinking, but you only have the strength to save one of us. Who would you choose?"

Jumin sat up straight and pointed at her accusingly. "That is a mockery of my driving skill," he said. "Though I admit I'm also curious to hear Jihyun's answer."

Both of you faced Jihyun with glimmering, hopeful eyes.

"I'd rather go with you both," he finally said. "I don't want to live a life without you."

That was a sly tactic to divert the talk to a solemn reflection. You wouldn't have it. He had to give a satisfying response or you would grill him until night arrived.

"But by doing so, you would lose our single chance to live."

"Save her." Jumin—that bastard—took pity on him instead of taking your side. "That would be the right course to take if I was the cause of our fictional death. One must keep a clear head when danger is imminent. Be logical."

You glared at him and whispered to Jihyun on a decibel where it shouldn't be called a whisper, "He's calling you stupid. Just sacrifice him."

"But he's right," Jihyun said. "I tend to use my heart over my head when someone needs me."

"This is why you're easy to tease." You sighed. "So, who's your heart calling for?"

"We all know he loves you, as do I. We would work together to save you," Jumin said, and Jihyun nodded with much eagerness.

You sputtered and scrambled out of Jihyun's arm. Curse their unwavering connection from being intricately intertwined since they were young. Served you right for loving two best friends who had been more than willing to present themselves as the sacrificial lamb to save your life.

"I get no say about my life or death?"

"You already handed over your choice to Jihyun. Now we will do as we see fit." Jumin was suspiciously smug when he declared it.

You swatted his shoulder without exerting any real strength. "You always find a way to cheat the system."

"It's not cheating if you never explicitly stated the rules and presented them with numerous loopholes."

You threw your hand against your forehead in the style of a faint-hearted Victorian lady receiving the most grievous news and tossed yourself back on the bed. "I have lost interest in this game."

"Some ideas are most poisonous to their creators." Jihyun chuckled, and put your hand away.

Unlike with Jumin, you found it harder to shoot antagonistic glares at Jihyun. Unlike Jumin, it was not in his nature to prod at you and challenge you into debates for mental stimulation. Unlike Jumin, he relented without much fight so it would only make you feel worse for teasing him too much.

Bickering with Jumin was a recreational activity, but it would be akin to kicking a wounded puppy if you did it to Jihyun.

"I hate it when you two join forces. I can never win against you," you grumbled.

Laughing, Jihyun kissed you and laced his fingers with yours. You held it against your stomach, deep gratitude washing over your heart. Jumin tipped up your chin, brushing flyaway strands from your face and smiled down at you.

Their touches, their gazes, they all confessed the same thing—something that existed between the three of you like it was the fundamental truth of the universe. A baby fresh out of the womb didn't need to be taught to breathe and cry. You didn't need to ask what it was. You didn't even hesitate.

Finally, you thought. No more wondering if tomorrow would come. You were loved and were fortunate enough to live out this life with them.

There would always be more days.

-

Footnotes:

-The second half of this fic is inspired by the exchange between grieving Jihyun and MC from All That Is Lost that didn't make the cut:

"I doubt he could do it if he were told to choose to save only one of us."

"Dear Lord, Jihyun." She laughed with tears in her eyes. "Let's not put him through more suffering."

I took out the grief and repurposed it into something lighter. You're welcome.

-This is my first romcom of the year and my first romantic smut ever!! I thought depression had stolen my motivation to write happy things, but turns out, I can still claw my way back here. It had been a healing process to write this. For the first time since I started here 2 years ago, I didn't worry about whether it's good enough. I just put myself in their headspace and found my joy in writing again.

-Every time I write a bubbly romance I imagine snatching these characters away from the torment of their routes and plopping them into a utopia where nothing bad can touch them.

Header Corner:

Since this fic has both mature themes and playful conversations, I thought a mixed media style would be perfect to convey these elements. Then, I used velvet purple tones with a pop of yellow and comic speech bubbles to further strengthen the concept.

A quick process overlook!