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imaginedanvrs · 7 months ago

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when the world stands still

part 1 l masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explosions, manipulation, coercion, descriptions of stage 4 cancer, character death, grief

“I don’t like her,” Natasha said to her friend freely from where they sat at the bar, the Russian’s eyes focused on the woman in question.

“I know,” Wanda replied, glancing briefly at the small crowd gathered on the opposite side of the room. “She seems better than Ross though.” Natasha scoffed lightly.

“Doubtful. If he practically gave her his old job then they’ve got to have the same agenda,” Natasha theorised. “Doesn’t this worry you?” She asked, turning to the younger redhead with a furrowed brow. She had more reason for concern than the Russian did.

“Of course, but it’s nothing that we can control or even have a say in. It’s best if we just try and stay on her good side,” Wanda explained. “I doubt we’ll ever see a Secretary of State that actually likes the Avengers. They don’t like what they can’t control.” The mentor didn’t respond, still examining the newest political figure Tony had invited to his party, most likely having the same thinking as Wanda.

“Krasnyy,” Wanda muttered. “Don’t give her reason to make things difficult for us,” she said with a slight plea.

“I’ll play nice,” the older woman assured with a teasing smile that didn’t help put the Sokovian’s mind at ease. She hummed and followed Natasha’s gaze to where it had travelled to the spacious balcony outside. There were few people scattered around on the other side of the closed doors to keep out the evening autumn breeze that proved to be too much for most of the guests. They retreated back into the warmth, leaving you to stand alone.

“You don’t like her wife either?” Wanda queried.

“Fiance,” Natasha corrected. “Of two years,” she added with a knowing smirk over the tip of her glass.

“Spreading gossip about them is the last thing you should be doing,” Wanda scolded lightly before taking her own sly glance in your direction. Your back was to the party, the city beyond captivating your attention instead. You had dutifully shown your face by your partner’s side at the start of the party but apparently hadn’t felt the need to mingle like most did at such an event. “Two years?” Wanda asked as though it only just clicked. Natasha chuckled with a small nod. “Well I suppose they must be quite busy.”

“Too busy for a lot of things I bet,” Natasha continued.

“Tasha,” Wanda warned again, unable to hide her smile this time. “It’s my turn to escape early,” she said as she stood up. The brunette had a mission early the following morning, a card Natasha had been able to play at the last few events. It wasn’t that either of them disliked Stark’s parties, they were infamous for a reason, but nights like that one didn’t compare when there was a clear political motive and the heroes were paraded around like trophies that could perform tricks.

“Tell me what I miss when I’m back,” she said, leaving the spy to her own devices at the bar where her attention soon flickered back to you.

Play nice, she reminded herself as she started towards the balcony. You didn’t turn around when the door opened behind you, taking another drag from the glowing cigarette as your gaze remained fixed on the night life below.

“I’m glad someone can admit how tedious these events can be,” Natasha called out, putting several paces between you as she leant over the railing next to you. You glanced her way in acknowledgment but gave no indicator if you were pleased or irritated by the company.

“This is the third one this week,” you told her simply.

“Just don’t laugh too much at the unfunny jokes or they won't leave you alone,” Natasha advised. “Oh and pretend you don’t find them incredibly irritating,” she added. You took another steady drag as you eyed the Avenger, unsure what her angle was with you. Most of the guests at such parties that approached you on your own just wanted some gossip about your personal life. Vultures.

“Is that what you do?” A genuine smile crept through Natasha’s strategic features that you apparently saw through better than most.

“And find the right people to pass the time with. I suppose your fiance is preoccupied though,” the redhead stated as she peered back at the party. You didn’t reply, nor did you show any interest in what you were missing behind you. “If you can stick it through, it gets better once people get drunk,” the spy continued, set on getting some kind of reaction or exchange from you.

“They’ve got the right idea,” you muttered as you crushed the cigarette but under your heel and finally peered back at the party. Your fiance was still immersed in conversation with Steve, one of the few heroes that was willing to converse with her for so long. Natasha’s eyes twinkled in a way she knew Wanda would disapprove of. Regardless, she opened an invitation to you.

“Not many people know this, but I’m a pretty great mixologist,” she told you. You considered her for a moment before turning back to the party you had no interest in attending. Might as well enjoy the free drinks, it’s the only perk this new lifestyle seems to come with.

“Screw it, why not,” you shrugged, allowing the Avenger to lead the way back inside and to the edge of the bar where she and Wanda had sat, out of the way of the main events. “How often does Stark throw these events?” You asked as Natasha began pouring from bottles you didn’t know the names of.

“Not as much as people think,” she told you. “And there’s usually less people.”

“Is it better that way?” You asked out of your own sheer curiosity.

“Much,” Natasha admitted. You had to give her credit for her honesty. “Events like this just feel like a show.”

“For my fiance?”

“Who else?” The redhead placed a martini glass on the bar and pushed it gently towards her. You thanked her and briefly glanced back in the direction of the main party, seeing the guest of honour still mingling with Steve. “Now that bit isn’t an act. They’re talking shop because he’s the only one who can make it seem so harmless at these events,” Natasha continued.

She didn’t stop there. As the evening became night, the redhead analysed everyone in the room to you as she continued to push more drinks. You weren’t entirely sure why she was doing it, but it did make the event more interesting to know the unkept secrets about some of the other guests who had appeared. It was also helpful. The gist of it was, none of them were as powerful, generous or influential as they believed themselves to be.

Though as enlightening as Natasha’s tale’s were, you couldn’t sit at the bar and listen to her all night, as reminded to you when midnight came around as indicated by the chime. The Avenger was about to pour from another bottle when you stopped it all, the content smile remaining on her imperfect features.

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath.

The world obeyed.

You examined Natasha for a moment, noting the lonely stillness that had fallen over her features and that of everyone else's in the world and briefly wondered if it would ever stop feeling so isolating. You couldn’t ponder on it, even if you did quite literally have all the time in the world, because you had a job to do.

Begrudgingly, you stood up from the bar stool and leisurely made your way across the grande room with a slight intoxicated sway to your step, passing by every statue without a second glance. You always felt guilty when you saw all their oblivious faces.

You had never uttered that magic word after a drink before and you could feel yourself having less of a control over keeping everything still than you usually did. You were playing a dangerous game, resuming everything too soon could have endless consequences that you weren’t planning on exploring. She certainly wouldn’t be happy.

More than that, you had never performed the task on a building with such impressive technology either. What if you were finally caught? It couldn’t have worse outcomes than the only other time you had been found out. For you. Someone else would pay that price though and you weren’t ready to deal with the debt that would follow, ironic for someone with your abilities.

Even though you had tried your best to memorise the route to the control room prior, you still found yourself getting lost numerous times on the way. It didn’t help that such a large tower only had two sets of stairwells for you to use because Stark apparently had too much faith in his building's ability not to catch on fire and render the elevators useless. You couldn’t use them yourself, having to be sure that everything was left in place when you resumed the world.

Finally, you found the main control room and didn’t waste any time placing the small chip under the nearest surface. It was hard to believe what it was supposedly capable of, but you had no doubt that their plan was flawless, it always was.

Just like that, your work was done and you returned to the party, feeling far heavier than you had when you left from the guilt that was already weighing on your shoulders. It wasn’t the first time you had done something like that, but you were sure this deed was going to have a worse impact than any of the prior ventures.

You let go of your hold on the world’s time so that the chaos could resume. The midnight chime ended and was replaced with another sound, one that was far grander.

The explosion shook the building, startling every guest that looked to each other for solace and guidance with terrified expressions. Alarms blared, people screamed, orders were yelled from the building’s AI and heroes. “Stay here,” Natasha ordered as you painted your features with the same fear that everyone else carried.

“But Cecilia-” you started, because anyone would be first concerned about their lover, right? Amidst the chaos, you really couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” Natasha repeated, springing over the bar and starting down the hall you had come from as the AI reported where the explosion had started. Steve rushed off after her, then Tony, then a few others. Then the next alert came.

“Security breach within the mainframe!” The robotic voice alerted.

You were so focused on watching the crowd panicking around you that you didn’t even notice the presence behind you until her body crashed into yours, supposedly to embrace you in a blaze of panic and relief. “Are you okay?” Your fiance asked as she examined your features carefully, playing the role without fault.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you told her, staring long enough into her features to give the nonverbal answer she was looking for. She hardly needed it, the scenes unfolding around you were evident that you had done as she instructed.

“Good,” she exhaled, pulling you flush against her into a tight hug that gave her enough cover to whisper into your ear. “Good girl,” she praised, maintaining that fake worry as she pulled away. You felt sick. People were crying around you. God, you hoped no one was hurt.

The situation was handled with impressive ease and it wasn’t long before everyone was being evacuated from the tower. Despite yourself, as you followed the crowd out of the building, your arm protectively around your fiance’s waist, your eyes drifted back in hopes of catching a glimpse of the redhead that had entertained you for the last stretch of the party. Part of you actually wanted to thank her for making the tension you had been feeling lessen, but that couldn’t happen, so you carried on.

The moment you were in the car together with the driver speeding off to your home, Cecilia was on the phone to her team. “Did you get it?” You didn’t hear the response, you didn’t want to know. Still, her chuckle told you it had. They had hacked the Avengers and retrieved whatever files they were looking for. You weren’t sure which ones, all you knew was that you had been able to damage the controls enough to provide a window for them to enter and take what they pleased.

“I don’t know what you’re looking so down about,” Cecilia sniped when a silence fell over the vehicle. “You know the deal, your sister gets more treatment now,” she said simply.

Yeah, she will. That’s all that matters. You nodded. “Thank you,” you muttered. “Can I see her?” You asked, hoping you could make a stop to visit her before you were taken back to the house.

“She’s already in surgery,” she told you with a smile. You returned it politely, willing yourself not to argue that that meant you really should have been taken to where she was so that you could wait for her, so that you could be there in case… Fuck, you didn’t even know she needed another surgery. They never told you anything.

You fought back tears, adamant that you wouldn’t show weakness in front of her, especially when she was on a power trip of success. She had the job, she had the files, she had you. To her, everything was working out perfectly. To you, it was all falling apart.

“What files were accessed?” Tony asked, feeling an uncertainty arise within his chest. No one had ever hacked him before. No one had ever successfully attacked the base. What was worse, there were still no answers as to how it had been done. He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he gazed at the monitor that offered no comfort.

“Just under half of all existing documents. Displaying now.” Files streamed onto the screen on cue, all ranging in dates and topics.

“Anything?” Steve and Natasha entered his space cautiously, knowing that the billionaire was stuck in his own head that was no doubt flooded with anxiety.

“No, keep the tower shut to all other personnel until we know for sure that there are no more bombs.”

“They’re already gotten what they want,” Steve said.

“We can’t know that for sure,” Natasha input, leaning over to examine the different documents that were presented and trying to pinpoint any recurring themes or patterns. “We don’t even know who they are.”

Gently, you ran your fingers over the skin where your sister’s hair should have been. You always used to do that when she was sick, from her fevers as a baby to the start of her diagnosis, you were always there to provide her with whatever comfort you could. Getting her the medical help she needed had been a long, greying, journey that you had never for one moment considered might not lead to the destination you wanted. It had been difficult for you both, but you had never dared let her in on what you had done to get her there.

It wasn’t a hospital by any means, yet the equipment they carried in the building was far superior. There was a team of professionals that were so highly trained in their respective fields, you had to wonder how much they were being paid to treat your sister and the other unknown patients. It was certainly money that you had never handed them, but you had worked for it. It wasn’t the personnel that had drawn you to the facility, it was the medicine they used. It wasn’t from Earth.

You had seen first hand the miracles that occurred on the hostile city streets, the last place anyone would expect to find them. Sicknesses being rid of, disabilities being lessened, burdens released from those who could never have afforded lesser help from elsewhere. All they had to pay with was their services. Thieves, thugs, gangs, dealers, the skills that flourished in the city’s underbelly were revived and given the chance to be used in ways they never could have imagined.

Once those rumours fell on your ears, you thought you had found the solution to your problems and that if you gave yourself to the ones pulling the strings behind the curtain, you could save your sister's life. Even as you gazed down at her pale features, you refused to believe your efforts were in vain.

Footsteps broke you from your trance as they thudded into your space. You knew who it was, she had a habit of interrupting what little time you had with your sister, as though she was genuinely jealous that your attention was on someone else. Cecilia was hardly in love with you and your relationship was purely for the convenience of getting you access to restricted events and places, but her possession was fierce. She was adamant on knowing where you were at all times and who you were with, preferably being the one to send you to those specific places. You kept to the diet and workout plan she set for you and never let you sleep in a different bed to her. You didn’t understand her insistent dictatorship over your life that was already in her hands, you just knew to obey it.

You didn’t react when she pressed a kiss to your neck and snaked her hands around your waist to peer over your shoulder at your sister. She didn’t comment on her declining condition, instead, she brought up the absolute last thing on your mind. “I’ve finally decided on a venue,” she informed lightly, humming into your neck. You could have slapped her. You didn’t want to think about the goddamn wedding. “You’re gonna love it,” she added when you remained silent.

“Can you ask the doctors what they’re gonna do next?” You asked. They never told you, too busy to make conversation with someone that didn’t matter to them. You felt your fiance exhale against your skin. She was frustrated, as though your little sister’s cancer was an inconvenience.

“She’s dying,” she said bluntly. You stiffened and hoped she didn’t notice. You weren’t in the mood for a fight.

“Not yet.” Cecilia kept her hands on your waist as she moved around to your front, placing a fresh kiss to your cheek that you refused to let be stained with tears in front of her.

“I love that stubbornness,” she told you with a small smile. “There’s so much fight in that heart of yours,” she added, trailing her finger over your chest to where your organ was thumping. “So much strength.” Her hands threaded around your neck. “It’s why you’re my favourite,” Cecilia said fondly, kissing you once more before finally leaving you be.

Your sister died a week later.

The only comfort you were able to take from it was that you were by her side when she took her final breath. You were there to tell her that she didn’t have to hang on for you, that she could rest, go be with mum and dad, be without pain. You told her that you would be okay on your own, even though you knew you wouldn’t. You held her hand and felt her give a final squeeze of recognition, of comfort. Her silent goodbye.

Just like that, you were left alone.

Your sobs could have been heard throughout the entire building. You were inconsolable, grasping onto your little sister’s lifeless body like it would keep her around. You begged for her to take you with her, to let you join them and come home. You begged for an ending. You cried so much your throat felt as though it had been ripped out, torn to shreds from the source. They only intervene when you tried to draw out your time with her.

“St-” you couldn’t complete the desperate command because hundreds of volts were sent through your body. You convulsed and collapsed to the floor in a defeated heap, unwilling to ever get up again. What was the point if you didn’t have her to fight for?

“Shh, it’s okay,” Cecilia cooed as she pulled the taser clips from your back and pulled your head into her lap. She cradled you, offering her solace for something that never concerned her. She was probably happy your sister was gone. She finally had you all to yourself, even if you were hardly present. “We’ll make it better. You’ll do your best work without the distraction, get you training more.” You weren’t listening, too engaged with setting your eyes on the opposite wall. You didn’t care for her plans for you.

“She never would have died if you had been given more help,” she explained, catching your attention. “But no one cared, not the government, not the people, not the Avengers. They just kept you away from us until it was too late.” You didn’t entirely believe what your fiance was telling you, but your mind was so fractured you were desperate for some kind of explanation and someone to blame.

“Humanity cannot be trusted with its own freedom. We fail time and time again because we aren’t led in the way we should be, the way we can be. Help us change that, y/n.” Dutifully, you sat up and nodded.

“We’re the only ones that looked after you and we’re the only ones that ever will,” she explained. That was true. You had no more foundations or life beyond the commands you were given. No one else could give you a future.

“What do you say?” Cecilia asked. You moved to kneel in front of her, features dead straight and eyes as dull as your sister’s behind you.

“Hail Hydra.”

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha x reader #gxg marvel #natasha romanoff imagines

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lalune9x · 2 months ago

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SCTIR Translation - Chapter 469: Selfish

One of my favorite chapters in the entire novel.

"What does that Sung Hyunje dislike so much about me?" I asked. "…Excuse me?" "Every time I start getting attached, it’s like he’s been waiting and he suddenly—" I quickly covered Han Gyeol’s ears. "—pulls some crap like this!"

Chapter translation under the cut.

---

Anyway, this made it clear. I turned away from Sung Hyunje and pushed the glass door open. I needed to tell Director Song about Chloe’s rank and stop her. There was no reason to just let her go with a simple goodbye. If we held onto Chloe, her side would probably contact us. Regardless of their good intentions or whatever, at the very least, they needed to release the skill Park Hayul had cast on me. You can’t use someone like that and walk away pretending nothing happened.

I walked along the quiet hallway. Sung Hyunje didn’t follow. My stomach churned, and I stopped walking.

“…Gyeol-ah, do you want to go ahead first?”

— 'No.'

I couldn’t smoke in front of the kid. Instead, I leaned against the wall and stood still for a moment.

‘I’m much better now than I was before.’

But what if it had been the me from before the regression? If I were still just the F-rank Han Yoojin, Chloe wouldn’t have said she disliked me. On the contrary, instead of paying attention to the rumors swirling around me, she might have taken notice of the F-rank hunter struggling to survive.

‘…In the end, all I accomplished was hearing things I was better off not knowing.’

She said she’d planned to tell me everything. Actually no, she said she’d tell me before leaving the country. If I’d heard it then, it would have been harder for me to react. So why did she confess now? Ah, did she realize during my conversation with Sung Hyunje that I was onto her? Maybe because I’d been questioning if he’d joined forces with the other side.

‘Then I should act quickly now.’

She said she would resist. Didn’t that mean she planned to run away? What was Chloe’s skill again? Since her broadcasts were focused on low- to mid-level dungeons, her abilities hadn’t been properly revealed. The content mainly focused on survival or raiding strategy, minimizing reliance on her higher-ranked hunter skills as much as possible.

I started walking again. The lounge was still a ways off, but someone was standing in the hallway.

"…Director Song."

It was Song Taewon. Did he come because he was worried? After all, I was an F-rank and Chloe was a high-rank Hunter. Suddenly, I remembered what Sung Hyunje said about trusting me or whatever. Maybe it wasn’t me he trusted, but Director Song.

"Han Yoojin-ssi."

“I got rejected, just as expected.”

Director Song’s expression faltered at my words. Or no, he seemed startled by the look on my face.

“…I apologize. I’m not very good at comforting people in these matters,” he said.

"No, I’m fine."

He didn’t seem to believe me.

"More importantly, did Chloe-ssi return to the lounge?" I asked.

"She didn’t come this way."

"What?"

"She took a different hallway. Since she was alone, I didn’t stop her. Is there a problem?" Director Song asked.

I froze for a moment, then ran a hand down my face. Of course. Why would she stick around when she wasn’t even a member of the Burn Cave Guild? She would have tried to hide as soon as she realized she was exposed. Why had I just stood there watching her walk away? Damn it, I was really…

"I’ll go call the others,” Director Song said.

I grabbed his sleeve as he hurriedly turned around, probably misunderstanding my expression.

"No, that’s not it. It’s not that. I just… feel like I’ve been acting foolishly. And now isn’t the time for me to be doing that.”

“…I think it’s fine for you to focus on dating.”

"…Pardon?"

"I think it’s alright to allow yourself that much freedom,” Director Song said seriously.

“I don’t think you’re the right person to say that, Director Song.”

"I am a public official."

"Just because you’ve got a rock-steady government job doesn’t mean your body’s made of steel too, you know?"

"I am also an S-rank,” he pointed out.

“In any case, I never dreamed I’d hear you give advice about having the freedom to date, Director Song.”

For some reason, I couldn’t help but laugh. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. There was little chance of catching Chloe now, even if I chased her. It would be better to wait until she came to receive Sung Hyunje’s reply. Assuming Sung Hyunje would cooperate, of course.

“Didn’t you used to dislike me, Director Song?” I asked.

"I was only worried."

“Then please sit down. My neck is going to cramp up.”

I patted the carpeted floor beside me. After a moment’s hesitation, Song Taewon sat down next to me. Freedom, huh? Sure, freedom is good. Though now wasn’t really the time to indulge in it.

"I can’t figure out what Sung Hyunje is thinking,” I said.

"I’ve watched him for nearly four years, and I still don’t know,’ Director Song replied.

"If I were an S-rank, I’d have grabbed him by the collar and shaken him a hundred times by now.”

"If I may offer advice, think of him as a natural disaster. Like being unlucky enough to be struck by lightning."

“…In that case, you’re like a lightning rod, Director Song.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t act as a proper lightning rod for you, Han Yoojin-ssi," he replied politely but seriously. Why was he apologizing?

“When you think about it, I was the one who ran into the storm holding an umbrella high,” I admitted.

"I wish you wouldn’t do that. Also, please try not to worry so much."

"How can I not worry?"

Director Song fell silent. The crease between his brows deepened. “Even so, I don’t think you need to worry about taking cues from the Sesung Guild Leader’s feelings. Ignore him like you did at the banquet,” he suggested.

"...What?"

Ignore him? But at that time, Sung Hyunje was the one who first…

“I’m not sure if I can do that, though…” I said.

"He’s not someone you can avoid, no matter how hard you try," Director Song said. "I’m forced to deal with him because of my position, but Han Yoojin-ssi can just let him be."

"What if he loses interest and leaves for good?"

"Things would be very peaceful."

He wasn’t wrong, but… um.

"The Sesung Guild Leader is very capable, and we do need him,” I pointed out.

“You’re just as capable, Han Yoojin-ssi.”

"Huh? No, I— Well, I suppose if we include Haeyeon Guild, we might manage in terms of combat power. And we do have international connections…"

“You have the Amaterasu Guild and the Murim Alliance, not to mention the Rearing Facility and Hunter Yoo Myungwoo. Expanding your influence won’t be difficult. Of course, relying on the already established Sesung Guild might be more convenient, but I wouldn’t say you’re lacking compared to them.”

He was being generous in his assessment… Or maybe I’ve been underestimating those around me too much. That wasn’t good.

"Listen, Director Song,” I began.

"Yes?"

"Chloe-ssi is connected to the people who kidnapped me—wait, no!” I quickly grabbed Director Song as he stood up. “She’s already gone! It’s too late."

He looked down at me with a stiff expression and said, "Please don’t tell me you met her knowing that."

"No, I was just a little suspicious. I’m sorry. But I told Sung Hyunje and Hyuna-ssi about it. Also, she said kidnapping me wasn’t done with bad intentions. You know the Dokkaebi King, right? They were trying to prevent him from falling completely into the military’s hands because it would have been dangerous.”

"Regardless of the reason, a crime is still a crime,” Director Song said firmly.

"But what if sacrificing one or two people could save many others?"

"I would step forward first."

“…Are you saying it’s okay for you to sacrifice yourself, Director Song? Because it’s your own life?”

"You might find my words and actions contradictory, but I don’t think sacrificing oneself is the right thing to do.”

That was unexpected. Then did Director Song not particularly like himself? Maybe because he felt so alien from others, he believed it was fine to sacrifice himself for them.

"I like you, Director Song."

"...."

“I think you’re a genuinely good person,” I affirmed.

"...Nevertheless, I cannot stop someone if they’ve made their decision after due consideration. Persuasion might be possible. However, one should never sacrifice others in place of oneself, unwillingly or not.”

"Well, you could always just stand by and let it slide, couldn’t you?"

"I, at the very least, cannot. And due to my position, I cannot overlook a high-ranking Hunter involved in serious crime. So, I’m sorry, but I will have to issue a warrant for Hunter Chloe.”

"Please wait,” I said. “She said she would return to get the Sesung Guild Leader’s reply. If he cooperates with us, it would be better than blindly chasing her down. If you issue a warrant, she’ll only go deeper into hiding."

Director Song nodded in agreement, falling silent for a moment again. Gyeol rubbed his head against my neck as if to comfort me.

My muddled thoughts began to clear. However, as usual, I still couldn’t understand Sung Hyunje. Act selfishly? Was he really going to betray me? And what did he mean by saying he thought I would catch him?[1] Was he saying he wouldn’t leave if I clung on to him? That just made me more annoyed.

"…I want to grab Sung Hyunje by the collar,” I said.

“If it’s you, Han Yoojin-ssi, he would let you do it.”

"Because I’m F-rank and not a threat."

"Rank is irrelevant. If he didn't want it, he wouldn’t allow even an unawakened person to lay a finger on him."

"That’s... well…"

"The same goes for Hunter Han Yoohyun, Hunter Park Yerim, Hunter Noah, and Hunter Moon Hyuna." Director Song’s voice was calm, as though he was simply stating facts. And well… he wasn’t wrong. Yeah, I already knew that.

I let out a sigh.

"…By the way." Director Song hesitated before continuing. "Is it possible that Hunter Chloe has feelings for the Sesung Guild Leader—"

"No."

“My apologies. It does happen sometimes, so I had to ask.”

Did he think Chloe-ssi rejected me and ran straight to Sung Hyunje? I did suddenly mention wanting to grab his collar.

"Sung Hyunje told me to act selfishly. What do you think he meant by that?"

“I think that is one thing he’s right about.”

"Wow… But I kind of want to tell you to act selfishly too, Director Song."

I mean, I probably wasn’t as bad as Director Song. I took care of what I needed to and voiced my complaints when necessary. If I were to act even more selfishly than this, what would that mean? Was he telling me to take over Sesung or something? Was it a signal that he was going off to join Park Hayul’s group or Chatterbox’s faction, and that I should take over what’s left behind?

As if Sesung without him was more valuable than him without Sesung. If he was going to give me something, he should give me both.

"What does that Sung Hyunje dislike so much about me?" I asked.

"…Excuse me?"

"Every time I start getting attached, it’s like he’s been waiting and he suddenly—"

I quickly covered Han Gyeol’s ears.

"—pulls some crap like this! If he’s going to treat me well, then he should just treat me well. If not, then stick to treating me poorly! He’s so inconsistent. It’s like a bumper crop of crap, all year round. How long has it been since Chuseok? Will he keep this shit up in the dead of winter too? He might as well plant rice and barley at this point. I mean, he’s got a greenhouse at home, it’ll be green all year round. If he’s going to be like this, why cultivate flowers when he could be farming rice?"

"…I see."

"For his birthday next year, I’m getting him a tractor. If he shows up in another car, I’ll plow right through it. If I get hospitalized with stress, the culprit is Sung Hyunje. Please arrest him."

"That would be difficult. And you shouldn’t destroy vehicles for no reason. Besides, I think the Sesung Guild Leader is exceedingly fond of you, Han Yoojin-ssi. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t show any interest in you at all."

…I did know that, but still. Even so, honestly. I handed Gyeol over to Director Song and stood up suddenly.

— ‘Dad!’

"I’m just going to grab him by the collar."

I was going to yell at him to explain himself clearly. And… whatever. I’d figure it out once I saw him face-to-face.

The thin blue panel glowed softly. The writing etched on it was not from this world, but its owner understood its meaning. The panel hovering above his palm disappeared in an instant. Immediately afterward, a cool breeze brushed the back of Sung Hyunje’s neck, and a thin red line appeared, a few droplets of blood beading along it.

"I guess you do feel guilty, huh? You didn’t even try to dodge."

Moon Hyuna, standing on the terrace railing, withdrew her spear. She then brushed off the last of the spider web-like threads clinging to her body.

“I thought it was odd that she let me go so easily,” she said. “You had something strange set up. It’s my first time seeing that item.”

"It was a birthday gift.”

"Yeah? Ah, from Hunter Yoo Myungwoo? It works well. Even a mid-rank Hunter would take half a day to escape it,” she said. “So, Hyung-nim?"

The terrace garden was already empty. Moon Hyuna sat on the railing and scowled at the back of Sung Hyunje’s head.

"Judging by how quiet it is, it seems nothing serious happened. But what are you plotting, huh?"

“Let’s just say I wanted you and Hunter Miller to make up. You might be seeing each other more often in the future.”

"Seeing each other more often? Even Guild leaders barely meet once a month."

Meeting once a month was actually quite frequent. Guild leaders, especially S-rank hunters, rarely had personal interactions. Once they entered an S-rank dungeon, they could stay inside for several weeks, and if a conflict arose outside the dungeon, it was impossible for them to manage it. Moon Hyuna was an exception, as she tended to have a wider social network, but most S-rank hunters kept to their own guilds.

Recently, though, they’d been seeing each other often because of Han Yoojin.

"If she takes over as the acting guild leader of Sesung, you would see her more often.”

“…What?” Moon Hyuna’s eyebrows shot up. "You’re going overseas? Like, for good?"

"Soyoung is still young, so I’ll entrust things to Hunter Miller for a while."

"Director Han will be disappointed. Don’t tell me you dragged me aside just to tell him that? You could have just told me, and I would’ve stayed out of the way."

At Moon Hyuna’s suspicious gaze, the corners of Sung Hyunje’s mouth turned up slightly.

"I introduced Vantes to Han Yoojin-gun,” he said.

“…What are you scheming?"

“Team Manager Seok is competent, but he is someone who would gladly sacrifice Han Yoojin for the sake of the Haeyeon Guild.”

“I don’t know what you’re intending, but…" Moon Hyuna narrowed her eyes as she continued. "When you offered to help me back then, though there were other reasons, I mainly turned you down because of the way you operate. Sung Hyunje, you don’t simply help people—you nudge them around, driving them into a corner.”

He didn’t stop at giving scholarships or covering living expenses. He would carefully shape their surroundings, like laying out a long path for them to follow, from the school they would attend, to their major, to the job they’d get after graduation. All without directly leading or forcing them into it. Rather, he subtly manipulated the surrounding environment so that the person in question would think they were naturally choosing their own way.

"The young master might not have noticed, but Seok Shimyung caught on and absolutely hated it. Do you think he dislikes you for no reason? It’s honestly a relief that your interest doesn’t last long. You’re not some god playing with people’s fates. It’s gross."

"I had only pure goodwill. And I’m restraining myself a lot these days."

"You’re obviously up to something suspicious. Hey, if you keep shaking the candy jar, all the pieces inside are going to break."

"I'm aware,” Sung Hyunje said. “But if you see it rolling towards a cliff, shouldn’t you push it in a different direction, even if you break a few pieces?”

At his words, Moon Hyuna scratched the back of her head. "You’re not wrong. So, are you trying to help Hyung-nim stand on his own or something? He relies on you a lot, Sesung Guild Leader, but I doubt things would drastically change if you were gone."

At most, he would feel a bit sad.

"Don’t go bothering random people out of boredom, just because Han Yoojin and Director Song aren’t around,” she said. “Though it does seem like Director Song will be going on more frequent business trips."

"It might get lonely. That’s why I’ve been waiting."

"What, for Hyung-nim to let go of you and send you off?"[2]

Instead of answering, Sung Hyunje smiled silently. There were still a few days left. Knowing Han Yoojin’s personality, he would agonize over everything alone instead of confiding in others. He might try to hold on to him or he might just give up. He might even try to clumsily persuade him, fail, and end up raising a weapon against him.

Either way, with a word like “partner” carrying so much weight, he was bound to feel a sense of betrayal.

"I’m not used to being hated,” Sung Hyunje said.

"What the hell are you talking about? I could bring you a truckload of people who hate you."

"Those people don’t matter. What do I care what the pebbles in the flowerbed think?"

"…God, you’re insufferable. I miss Dal. At least he was cute, unlike a conniving snake like you. And if you don’t want to be hated, just behave yourself."

"I suppose that’s an option.”

Perhaps his interest in Han Yoojin wouldn’t even last five years. Maybe it would fade in a year or two. If that happened, it wouldn’t matter anymore. But staying quietly in place hoping for an uncertain future didn’t suit Sung Hyunje’s nature.

"But I still think I'd enjoy him getting angry at me,” he said.

"Director Song, at least, is an S-rank. Hyung-nim, on the other hand…"

Moon Hyuna’s voice suddenly trailed off. Moments later, the glass door swung open. Han Yoojin entered the terrace garden with large strides.

"…Hyuna-ssi?" he said.

"Got rejected safely, Hyung-nim?"

"…Yes." Han Yoojin nodded and approached Sung Hyunje.

Behind him, Song Taewon entered, holding the fairy dragon, and stood by the glass door.

"Sung Hyunje-ssi,” Han Yoojin said.

Sung Hyunje looked down at him. He hadn’t expected to hear from him for at least a day. Han Yoojin’s narrowed eyes were full of frustration—resentment, anger, and annoyance.

"I didn’t expect you to come back right away," Sung Hyunje said.

"Shut up. Now that I think about it, you said you would be my decoration today, didn’t you? Accessories don’t have mouths."

"That’s true." Sung Hyunje tilted his head slightly, smiling. "Yes, master." His long index finger rose to lightly touch his lips before falling back down.

Han Yoojin took a deep breath, his shoulders slightly rising and falling.

"I was just going to curse you out, but then…"

He exhaled deeply again.

"You told me to act selfishly? Doesn’t that just mean I should do whatever I want? Fine, Sung Hyunje-ssi, since you told me to do so, I will. I don’t care what you do."

Han Yoojin met his gaze directly as he spoke.

"I just—damn it. I hope Sung Hyunje will be the last. Just live in this world, doing whatever selfish, reckless things you want. I want that for you, and I’ll make it happen. Whatever your plans are, I don’t care. That’s how I want it to be.”

He grit his teeth, declaring that he wouldn’t bother with him anymore.

"And you too, Director Song!"

Song Taewon, standing a bit further back, flinched reflexively.

"Just live a long life, okay? I want to see you live well, Director Song. That’s all I want. And Hyuna-ssi, I’m sure you’ll live well on your own, but I still hope you’ll be happy."

"Oh, thanks,” Moon Hyuna replied.

Han Yoojin smiled at her words. Then, his gaze turned sharp again as he glared at Sung Hyunje.

"I’m going to do whatever I want. You’re the one who started this. So if you’re going to cooperate, then cooperate. If not, get lost. Of course, if you disappear on your own, I’ll make sure to find you, grab you by the collar, and drag you back.”

No matter what it took.

"I’ll give you a day to run, too." After saying that, Han Yoojin’s neck reddened slightly, perhaps out of embarrassment. "Damn it. Anyway, that’s that. Hyuna-ssi, is there more to drink?"

"Of course. You can take whatever’s left in the lounge’s open kitchen,” she replied.

"Thank you,” Han Yoojin said. Avoiding Sung Hyunje’s gaze, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, Yoohyun. There’s more wine in the open kitchen. It’s from Hyuna-ssi. Bring it all. I need to get drunk tonight. What? Of course, I got rejected! I’m fine, but what about you?"

While talking to his younger brother, Han Yoojin glanced over at Song Taewon. "Director Song, can S-rank hunters drink and drive?"

"…There are no specific regulations yet, but no, it’s not allowed."

"Then it’ll have to be Yerim. She does have a license."

"I’d prefer it if you stayed at the hotel tonight,” Director Song replied.

"Oh right, we’re at a hotel. Yoohyun, let’s head up to our room. Grab the wine and take the elevator. Yeah, come comfort your hyung."

Han Yoojin left, and Song Taewon followed after him.

Moon Hyuna shrugged and looked at Sung Hyunje. "So, that’s how it is. Looks like things aren’t going the way you planned, huh?"

Sung Hyunje’s hand rose to cover his face.

"…It’s driving me crazy."

---

Footnotes:

[1] Sung Hyunje said “잡아 줄 줄 알았는데” which means literally “I thought you’d catch (me),” but also has the meaning of holding/supporting someone or stopping them from leaving. Not really sure how best to translate it because they do also kind of use it in the sense of “catching”. I previously translated Yoojin’s inner monologue about the Crescent Moon possession as Yoojin thinking “역시 확실하게 잡기 위해서는 (In order for me to ensnare him properly)” but I corrected “ensnare” to “catch” to make the callback to Hyunje’s line clearer.

[2] Hyuna says “안 잡아 주고 (Not hold on/catch you, i.e., let go of you)”, same word as the “catch” above.

#oh yeah i forgot to mention that Dal is Sigma (i think Dal sounds cuter than translating it as Moon)#sctir #tsctir #the s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised #my s class hunters #내가 키운 s급들 #novel translation #jinjae

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senselessviolets · 4 days ago

Text

random will graham headcanons (childhood, teen years, college, etc.)

Rating T

WARNINGS:

Mentions of murder (canon typical), homicidal ideation, child abuse, alcoholism.

Author’s Notes:

Title says it all. Just some headcanons based off of the show, bits of Red Dragon and my own personal intuition because I'm THAT good. /s

He doesn’t know why his mom left because his dad refuses to tell him and would get furious anytime he brought it up as a child.

He experienced corporal punishment from his dad but if asked, wouldn’t consider it to be abuse—no matter how emotionally traumatic it was for him.

His dad George was a survey technician in the US Army Corps of Engineers. His mother Adaline had worked as a pharmacist before Will was born.

He was never allowed pets growing up, hence why he now owns so many dogs.

With his undiagnosed ASD and constant moving around for his dad’s job, Will struggled to form any long-lasting, meaningful relationships in his youth.

His dad would occasionally write letters to Will and send him various gifts (Bourbon, aftershave, new lures) around the time of his birthday or the holidays. He stopped after Will was imprisoned and hasn’t written to him since.

Will tried to approach girls he had crushes on when he was a teen but they were always dismissive of him or thought he was weird.

He lost his virginity in a clumsy drunken one-night stand in his sophomore year of college. She was his roommate’s ex and there was some drama over it.

Will has experienced lots of frustration with the women in his romantic life who in his mind toyed with his feelings and strung him along. He was always so willing to commit himself to the right girl and even imagined himself as the kind to settle down and get married young but the opportunity never arose.

Throughout his teenage years, he imagined often how he would kill his dad and was convinced he could get away with it.

Will dated a Law student in his junior and senior year of college and they had been going steady until after they’d slept with each other one night and Will had a hyperrealistic dream in which he strangled her in her sleep, dismembered her, and scattered her all around campus. This dream disturbed Will so deeply that he broke things off with the girl right after, providing little explanation as to why.

Will’s want to become a father and to protect and nurture his “strays” (Abigail Hobbs, Georgia Madchen, Peter Bernadone, his actual fucking dogs) is very much ego-driven. It’s not as genuine or wholesome as he might want you to think or how he even perceives it to be.

Will was pretty widely disliked at the police department he was a detective for as well as the FBI Academy.

His alcoholism developed as a way to numb his overstimulated senses and to cancel out the intrusive thoughts he has. As time has gone on, his reliance on liquor has only grown; a habit he picked up from his father.

Will is a notoriously harsh grader and is quick to shut down any dissenting opinions about his “style of teaching”.

He’s definitely had inappropriate thoughts/fantasies about a few of his students, ranging from shallow sexual attraction to full-blown abduction.

He doesn’t own a television or a computer and begrudgingly owns a smartphone for his job.

The majority of his interests and likes/dislikes are ones he got from his dad. His dad loved to fish. His dad’s favorite singer was Johnny Cash. His dad liked the color green. Will probably feels as if these are what he should like and if you actually asked him how he felt about ____ or if he really liked XYZ; he wouldn’t know how to answer.

A huge part of the reason he loves dogs is that they do not know they are ‘kept’. As opposed to a human being who could recognize if they were taken from everything they know or forced to live the life of another; dogs don’t think that way and above all, they are undyingly loyal.

^^ And yes, this is my way of saying I subscribe to the popular headcanon that Will has stolen some of his dogs.

Morally grey sweaty dog man.

I hate him.

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

#will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham headcanons #hannibal nbc headcanons #headcanons #will graham hc #hannigram

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icycoldninja · 6 months ago

Note

Thank you so much for doing my first request!! I love your writing, alot!! if your requests are still open, can i have another request?

Basically the sparda boys + v with therapist!reader because they need therapy! Also reader is secretly a billionaireso reader pays the bills in the devil may cry office, spoils them with the sutff they like and always checks on them, telling them that they can let their feelings out, like a therapist !!

if your requests are closed, you can delete this <3

Thanks so much!! Don't worry, requests are still open. Enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Therapist!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante's the definition of "but I'm fine" after talking for 2 hours.

-Expect him to be very moody and sulky during therapy cause he's not used to venting on such a personal level before.

-His jokes get progressively lamer as each layer of trauma is shed, eventually revealing himself as the sad, broken man he really is.

-Is very surprised when all his bills magically get paid by an anonymous person who keeps sending him money and pizza to Devil May Cry every week.

-Never realizes you are his mysterious benefactor but he appreciates what is being done for him and doesn't hesitate to tell you all about his secret caregiver. It makes your day to hear how happy you make him.

-He slowly becomes more comfortable with talking his feelings out, and once that happens, he becomes an unstoppable chatterbox.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil hates the very idea of therapy because he believes he is a MOTIVATED individual who is independent enough to handle his inner issues on his own.

-However, you're very persistent and manage to get him to sit down for a session, much to his reluctance.

-You're oddly kind to him and listen to all his troubles with an open mind--something he's not used to. Though at first he is very cagey about everything, Vergil gladly warms up to you and confesses his deeper secrets.

-He finds it very odd that a secret benefactor has just started sending him presents and money only a few days after he began seeing you as his therapist. It could be a coincidence, but then...maybe not.

-Although he wants to know who is sending him gifts, he decides to just let his mysterious benefactor run their course and not spoil their intentions. Who knows, they might reveal themselves someday.

-Starts writing thank-you notes and leaves them out on the doorstep for you to find.

□ Nero □

-Nero is against therapy for personal reasons. He thinks he alone should know all his secrets and issues, and that he alone should deal with them. He doesn't need outsiders meddling in his affairs.

-He demonstrates his dislike for therapy by being the most rebellious, recalcitrant jerk to have ever walked into your office.

-He talks back to you almost all the time, is extremely rude, and once stole a set of ballpoint pens from your desk because he didn't like how you were jotting down everything he said.

-When he finds random gifts and things being sent to him, as well as his bills being mysteriously paid, Nero gets very suspicious. We're you giving away his address to stalkers?

-Slowly, Nero realizes that his mysterious benefactor is only looking out for him and supporting him, though for what reasons, he has no idea.

-He's grateful for all this help, but still a little wary. He doesn't trust you yet, but maybe with time, he will someday.

● V ●

-V is probably the only one here who actually agrees with the idea of therapy.

-He was a little nervous at first, but seeing how warm and welcoming you are to him relaxes him a lot.

-He's shy and doesn't say all that much at first, but over time, you manage to coax him into speaking to you more.

-He is pleasantly surprised when gifts and bits of money start appearing at his doorstep nearly every day, because last he checked, he didn't have a steady job.

-He can't figure out who's doing this, but he's grateful all the same. He'd love to meet whoever's behind this and thank them for their generosity.

-V's taken up baking treats and leaving them on the doorstep in cute boxes as a way to thank his unseen gift giver.

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mrs-gucci · 2 years ago

Text

It’s Just Politics (Part 1 of 2)

Commander Mills x senator!Reader (f)

written for my welcome back celebration, phase one.

y’all voted, y’all wanted me to write some more Mills, so here I am :) this is part one of two, so enjoy the beginning of the story and get excited for part two which will be coming soon!!

content warnings. accidentally walking in on someone naked (he walks in on her), implied/mentioned age difference (gap not specified, Mills is 36)

word count: 3.4k (...whoops)

summary~ Commander Mills reluctantly takes a last-minute job captaining the Senator of Somaris’s personal ship on a flight to Cyllene for this year’s galactic policy conference. Both of them get much, much more than they bargained for...but they’re not necessarily complaining about it.

"You're kidding me."

Jai shakes his head, continuing to submit order forms for ship parts.

"I'm dead serious, man. Travis wants you to do it, it'll pay well, and you won't be gone for that long. At least two weeks, it's just to Cyllene for the annual galactic policy conference. Simple."

"Nothing is ever simple with her, you know that. She's impossible to deal with." Mills huffs. "What happened to her captain? Why can't he do it?"

"Dunno. I think he transferred or is off on a long-range mission. I can't remember, but you should take it. Even though the Senator is a bit of a difficult client, she has a lot of power and could easily help you get a higher-paying job."

Mills knows Jai is right. He should take this job; he needs the money after paying for Nevine's treatments. He has to continue supporting his wife even if their marriage is a bit on the rocks.

"Fine," he says after a moment. "I'll tell Travis that I'll take the job."

Jai smiles, walking past his coworker and giving him a pat on the back as he does so. He lets out a soft chuckle. "Good man. Just...try not to kill her, okay?"

Mills hums, smiling ever so slightly.

"No promises."

***

"Are all of my dresses packed properly?" you ask the service droid as it begins to load your things onto the dolly. "It's of the utmost importance that they not be wrinkled. I want to represent Somaris to the best of my ability at this year's conference."

"Yes, Mistress," the droid says. "I made sure to pack each one myself."

You nod slightly. "Good. Thank you, I always appreciate your hard work, PZ."

"Of course. I am always at your service, Senator."

PZ finishes loading the bags and quickly takes them to the royal vessel while you prepare for the long journey ahead. You always hate going up into space, but unfortunately, it's an integral part of your job, so you have to do it more often than you'd prefer.

You walk to the docking bay, and you stop as soon as you see him walking towards your ship.

"You're kidding me."

Mills huffs out a soft laugh as he passes you. "Yeah, that's what I said too."

"Tell me you're not the one flying the ship. Please, please tell me you're not in charge of this trip--" You catch up to him.

"I need the money, alright?" Mills says, jaw clenching. "That's the only reason I agreed to it. Trust me, I wish I didn't have to, but there's hardly any work for pilots right now."

"No need to give me your whole life story, Mills. I won't cry you a river like others may have."

You roll your eyes and walk towards the ship ramp, immediately colliding with him. Apparently, he decided to step forward at that exact moment that you did. You huff and leave him in the dust, boarding the ship and immediately going to your sleeping quarters.

This'll be an interesting journey, that much you're sure of...

***

For the third time in the thirty minutes you've been flying, your water glass nearly falls onto the floor as the ship suddenly jerks to the side, then a bit downward, before returning to a steady state. You shut the computer off and walk to the cockpit, immediately hearing Mills's grumblings as he reaches across the controls console.

"I know you dislike me, but I didn't think you'd try any sort of murder attempt until much later in the trip," you say, crossing your arms as you stand in the doorway. "And I must say, I'm extremely disappointed in your efforts thus far."

Mills's jaw clenches once again. And here he was, starting to relax now that he's mostly figured out the new controls...

"For now, I figured having you get sick would be satisfying enough," he says, turning around to look at you. "The murder attempts will be much more obvious, I assure you. Plus, keeping you alive until after the conference is in my best interest, so I get paid for at least half of the trip."

You chuckle dryly. "Fair point. Now, are you sure that all of your licenses and qualifications aren't expired? Because you're flying this ship almost as badly as I do, and I don't have any licenses."

"I've never flown a ship with such unnecessarily complicated controls," he replies simply. "This is a class of ship I'm not used to handling."

"Mm, mhm. Sure, my ship's definitely the problem. You could never be at fault for not having flown a diverse range of ships in your many years of being a pilot...because you're old."

He huffs. "Really, you're resorting to calling me 'old' now? You can't find any more halfway decent or clever comebacks in your apparently vast bank of them?"

You smirk slightly. "So you admit that my comebacks are clever and good?"

"No, I said they're clever and halfway decent," he says, unable to help the tiny upward twitch of the corner of his mouth. "Big difference. Also, I'm not old."

"Everyone who's old tried to say they're not old. If you're over 40, you're officially old."

"How old do you think I am?" He looks back at you.

"I dunno," you shrug. "Like 40."

"Fuck, I'm 36," he grumbles, turning back to flip a switch on the panel. "Go back to your quarters, Senator. I'll try to keep the ship under control, although I doubt it'll be to your very high standards."

You turn and begin to walk away. Suddenly, the ship dips again, and you nearly lose your balance, falling into the wall. You whip your head around and hear the softest of chuckles from the cockpit, rolling your eyes at the sound.

"Just do your damn job, Mills."

***

Mills sighs as he flips the autopilot switch and prepares to head off to his sleeping quarters. He probably should've asked where his quarters were before takeoff, but honestly, he didn't even think of it at the time. He was too busy dealing with you.

As much as he hates to admit it, you actually intrigue him. You're young, beautiful, and incredibly hard-headed. All qualities he saw in his wife when he first met her.

Several doors line the hallway, and Mills picks the one closest to the cockpit. It opens, and it's a closet filled to the brim with luggage and garment bags. He huffs, then shuts it promptly.

He moves to the next door, already mentally checking out for the night. When it opens, his eyes widen.

You're standing completely bare, applying your body lotion before you dress for bed. You turn around and gasp, quickly covering your breasts before turning away.

"Get out!"

Mills, for a moment, can't bring himself to move. Fuck, it's been a while since he's seen a naked woman, and you're so--

"GET OUT!" you exclaim, looking back at Mills. "OUT!!"

He suddenly snaps back into reality, muttering an apology before shutting the door and letting out a shaky breath. He tries to commit it all to memory: how your skin shone in the dim lamplight, your plump breasts and hardened nipples, the beautiful curve of your hips...

Turning away, he walks to the final door in the hall, which contains a small cot. He puts his things into the small dresser and tries not to revisit his memories of your body. It's highly inappropriate for him to lust after a woman years his junior, especially since he hates you, and you two have yet to have a non-argumentative conversation.

Suddenly, the door slides open as Mills takes off his shirt. He turns around and sees you, now dressed in a nightgown, looking absolutely infuriated. But he doesn't miss how your eyes dart down his body momentarily.

"What is wrong with you??" You ask angrily, glaring up at him. "Why didn't you close the door right away? Why'd you keep looking at me? Are you some kind of pervert or something?"

He huffs, turning away from you.

"No, I'm not a pervert. I just froze up for a moment. I was surprised. I thought the room would be empty...it won't happen again. It was an accident."

"Mhm. Aren't you married? How would your wife feel if she saw you staring like that?"

"Yeah, well, she and I aren't exactly on the same page these days," he says, pulling his sleep shirt on before turning to you again. "So what, you wanna see my dick, make us even?"

Well, kind of.

You huff, crossing your arms. "No," you say. "Because I'm a lady and would never do anything like that."

Mills chuckles. "Mhm. You just keep telling yourself that."

He reaches for the pants resting over his hips. "If you're such a lady, I suggest you head out before you see anything improper. God forbid."

"Goodnight to you too, Captain."

***

Mills's quarters are open when you pass by, so who wouldn't be curious about what secret life this guy could be living? You look around, then step inside. It's very basic; he's brought almost nothing personal. Well, almost nothing. You spot a holoprojector lying on his bed.

Is the great Commander Mills enjoying some pornography during his downtime?

Chuckling softly at the thought, you pick it up carefully and turn it on, purely out of curiosity. What comes up is incredibly unexpected. It's a young girl playing with a toy ship. Suddenly, it clicks in your mind: this is his daughter. Before she…

You scroll to the next one, and the next, and the next, watching only a few seconds of each. Then, you reach one where she's looking much sickly. She's got a nasal cannula in, and her cough, which you noticed throughout the videos, is much worse.

And then, you flip to the very last side. It's the voice of your wife, hand on your daughter's lifeless one.

Oh no—

"What are you doing?"

You gasp softly, startled at the sound. He's calm, but a certain edge to his voice sends a little chill down your spine.

"I-I..." you don't have an answer. "I thought this was something--"

"Give that to me," he snaps, snatching it from your hands and turning it off. "This is my quarters, my personal space. What's so hard to understand about that, huh?!"

You open your mouth to speak. He doesn't allow it.

"I would never think to step into your room and look through your belongings. You think just because you're a senator that you outrank me and can do whatever the fuck--"

"That's not it!" you say suddenly. "It was wrong, alright? I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I let my curiosity get the best of me. I didn't think you'd have anything like that."

For a moment, Mills is genuinely surprised at your quick admittance of guilt. He thought you'd surely make up some bullshit excuse as to why you're in here looking through his daughter's holo memories.

Just seeing that bit of the final holo of his daughter already has him tearing up, but there's no way in the galaxy he's gonna cry in front of you. He looks away, setting the holoprojector back down on the top of his dresser.

"Go."

You're at a loss for words. Look at what you've done; you've violated his privacy and forced him to relive such an awful memory. All because you wanted to get some dirt on him. It all seems silly and stupid now. "Look, Mills, I'm really--"

Tears are threatening to slip down his cheeks. He needs you to leave before you see him break down.

"Leave!" he snaps again, although his voice is much shakier this time. "Leave me a-alone!"

You swallow harshly, then walk back towards the door. You pause for a moment, looking back at him, seeing how his whole body shakes as he tries to keep his sobs.

"I'm truly sorry."

He says nothing, waiting until the door closes to let out the quiet but violent cries he's been holding in.

When dinner rolls around, you sit in the same seat you usually do at the small table. Except there's no sign of Mills anywhere. He's stayed on the bridge with the door shut all day. PZ brings out your meal, then sets Mills's down at his usual spot.

"Where is the Captain?" PZ asks. "Will he not be joining you for dinner this evening?"

You shrug slightly, looking over at the bridge door. "I don't know, PZ. He hasn't left his pilot's seat all day."

"Well, perhaps I should--"

"No," you interrupt. "You don't wanna irritate him. He's had a rough day. I'll take it to him if he doesn't come out."

PZ nods, then walks back to continue checking on your dresses. You sigh softly and eat alone, occasionally looking over at the door. Nothing.

You really don't wanna take the food in, but you know it's the right thing to do. Plus, it'll give you time to hopefully apologize again for earlier without him yelling or getting too upset.

With a deep breath, you press the 'open' button, and the door whooshes, revealing the tall back of the pilot's chair. Various controls on the panel flash and beep. He reaches over to silence them.

"Yes?"

You step forward. "I have your dinner. I figured you wouldn't wanna come out to eat with me--"

"A correct assumption."

"...so I brought your dinner in here."

He nods. "Thank you."

You set the plate down to the side.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened earlier," you say sincerely. "It wasn't my place to snoop around your quarters, and I apologize. I also...I didn't know about your daughter. I'm sorry about that, too."

Mills says nothing but turns around in the chair to look at you. After a moment, he nods slightly. "Thank you for apologizing. And I'm sorry that I snapped like that. It's just a hard thing for me to revisit."

"Of course, and I completely understand why you reacted the way you did. I deserved that, but you didn't deserve to have your private life violated like that. I'm sorry, truly. I feel terrible about it."

He's very much surprised by your sudden remorse and show of emotion. You rarely soften like this, and it makes him wonder if he's jumped to conclusions too soon. Maybe you're not always the hard-ass, demanding, a stubborn politician you make yourself out to be.

"All is forgiven, Senator. I promise it's alright. I appreciate you apologizing."

You nod, offering him a small smile. "Great. I'd hate for us to be on shitty terms for the rest of the journey."

"Agreed," Mills nods. "Thanks for bringing my dinner. I'll see you tomorrow, Senator."

"See you tomorrow, Captain."

***

"Wait, wait..." you start, huffing softly. "You're telling me we have to stop on Zexade for fuel? I thought this ship could carry enough fuel for the entire journey. I've never had this problem before."

"There's a first time for everything," Mills replies simply, flicking a few switches on the dashboard. "We had to take an alternate route around a nebula, which took more fuel than anticipated. Zexade should have what we need."

"How long is that gonna take? We cannot be late to this conference, Mills. It's super important that we arrive on time--"

"You'll get there on time, Senator. You insisted we leave two days earlier than we needed to. Do you not remember that?"

Your jaw clenches. "I recall that, yes. But I've been late before, and it was absolutely humiliating. I want to be sure I'm there in advance to begin talking with the other senators."

"The refueling stop shouldn't take more than a few hours. We're on schedule to arrive on Cyllene early." He rolls his eyes. "There's no need to worry about anything. I have it all under--"

A loud crash is heard, and the ship lurches. You stumble, quickly gripping the wall for support.

"Everything's under control, huh?" you ask bitterly. "Then what in the world was that?"

The control panel and the proximity sensor start beeping frantically, and Mills groans. He was worried that something like this would happen. More shots are fired at the ship, and he dodges most of them.

"Get out of here! Strap into a chair or something!"

"What is it? Why are they shooting at the ship--"

Another bold hits the ship and takes a few pieces of paneling off. You nearly fall again.

"Pirates," he says. "They want the ship to salvage and possibly take us hostage for ransom money. Now get into a seat before you get hurt!"

You run back towards the emergency seats, but then you see the hatch for the gunner position. You know at that moment what you need to do. The ship dips again, and you fall into the wall with a soft groan, but you climb into the gunner seat before any more sudden jerks.

Mills' eyebrows furrow when he hears static from a headset hanging on top of a control panel. He lifts it up and puts it on, thinking it could be some sort of communication from the pirates.

"Get me into position," you say, flipping switches and pressing buttons rapidly, warming up the guns. "I can take them out."

"What the fuck are you doing down there?! I told you to strap in--"

"Fuck strapping in; I'm not just gonna sit there and wait for you to let the ship be torn apart. These pirates are gonna take us out if we don't put up some sort of defense."

He knows he should focus on the pirates, but he's still trying to wrap his head around that you apparently know how to operate the gunner position. He's also trying to wrap his head around that he's about to take commands from you.

"Alright, alright," he says, adjusting the headset quickly before swerving more shots. "Do you have a shot?"

Your jaw clenches. "Do you think, if I had a shot, I would have told you to get me into position?!"

This is gonna be harder than he thought.

"Can we save the biting wit and snarky remarks for when we're not getting shot at by pirates, please?!"

"Fine," you huff. "I've almost got a shot on one of the ships. Take a sharp left and drop her down a bit."

He does what you say, and you quickly shoot the pirate ship down, which explodes and takes another one out. You smirk, mentally high-fiving yourself.

"Suck it!" you say into the microphone, forgetting that it's on. "You just got shot down by a fucking senator, losers!! Ha ha!"

Mills listens and allows a slight smile to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Your mic is still on, Senator. But thank you for that wonderful piece of audio," he says, looking over at the proximity map. There are two more ships left. "I'm gonna pull up really hard and try to get you a clear shot on the two smaller fighters. Can you do that?"

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Y-Yeah, yeah, of course, I can. Just get me into position, and I'll take care of the rest."

"Good." He chuckles softly and suddenly pulls up, accelerating rapidly.

You keep your hands on the trigger buttons, holding on tightly as the ship climbs almost directly upwards. The pirate fighters are obviously confused but follow, climbing with us.

“Do a corkscrew maneuver!” You say into the mic. "Now!"

"What?! You want me to do a what?! You're crazy!"

You growl softly. "Trust me, just do it!!"

Mills grips the steering wheel tightly and begins to spin the ship around and around, cursing you in his head as he begins to feel nauseous. Your eyes narrow, and you shoot at the vessels, hitting one, then the other.

"I got 'em! We're clear!"

He slows, returns the ship to the usual level state, and sighs, running a hand through his hair. Goddamn, that was fucking crazy. You're...incredibly quick on your feet, and you ultimately made the right call.

Between your genuine apology and this sudden show of badassery, it's almost hard to believe that Mills is starting to actually like you. He'll never admit that part out loud, but it's true.

You emerge from the hatch and walk to the cockpit, releasing shaky breaths. The adrenaline is still flowing as you head towards Mills' chair.

"So..." you start. He turns and looks at you, and you offer him a teasing smile. "How much longer to Zexade?"

-- part two (upcoming) --

general taglist: @mrs-zimmerman

fic-specific taglist: @mrs-zimmerman @safarigirlsp @queeniebee

◆ wanna join? here’s the link: adcu taglist ◆

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more-than-a-princess · 4 months ago

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🔦 Connect the dots between you and your muse. Ways that you're the same, different, last time you thought about them, etc.

🎀 What's the last nice thing you saw pertaining to rp? !!!!

Mun Communication meme - No Longer Accepting as Munday is almost over for the week!

🔦 Connect the dots between you and your muse. Ways that you're the same, different, last time you thought about them, etc.

I think about Sonia at some point, for some duration, every day. I usually have at least 1 reply to write at any given time and if I don't, I'm generally getting thread ideas or headcanons through all the other media I tend to consume (I get to watch some TV as part of my job. This helps!).

But beyond that...

Sonia and I both enjoy horror movies, documentaries about cults and unsolved mysteries, and anime. I don't watch as much Japanese and Korean dramas as I used to, mostly because I dislike reading subtitles: I like having the TV on while I write and I can't write and read at the same time. We also prefer tea to coffee, but she's much more of a snob about chocolate than I am. We share some clothing preferences and styles and while my family isn't quite as dysfunctional as hers, we both come from at least one side of an extended family that belongs in the upper middle to upper class. I sometimes use anecdotes from my family for various character traits of hers, but not too much.

A few fun facts:

One of my aunts was briefly married to a European aristocrat. He was a jerk who divorced her pretty quickly and refused to see his kids after.

Another one of my aunts cannot understand why I don't quit my terribly paying job and disappear to England, France, and/or Italy for an extended period of time and set up my own business, unable to understand that her mother financed her entire lifestyle after she went into deep debt several times. My parents do not do this, and I enjoy having a steady paycheck and health insurance (this is your cue to understand I'm American and over the age of 26!).

My grandmother from the rich side of the family threw a fit and refused to speak to me for most of my teenage years because I refused to have a debutante ball and I wasn't conventionally attractive. I was overweight (still am), shy (yup!), and nerdy (this too!). Geek conventions and cosplay were not suitable interests for a debut into high society. In turn, she was one of the first debutantes in her social circle in her city and believed I, as the eldest granddaughter, should follow in her footsteps. I was the least favorite grandchild until the day she died.

And that touches upon some of our differences. Sonia is conventionally beautiful/attractive, outgoing, an extrovert, smiles easily, and makes friends easily. All things I am decidedly not (I'm excellent at resting bitch face, however). She's also much better at math, science, and memorizing many languages than I am: I feel like I've forgotten so much of my French. That I studied between the ages of 8 to 22. Another reason to go back to France!

I also am obsessed with fictional royals/wealthy people and royal documentaries/dramatizations. I've most recently finished the new season of Bridgerton and My Lady Jane, and once I get through a few more romantasy selections on my Kindle I have the new Kevin Kwan book to read (I'm trying to make it last! I also want the Crazy Rich Asians TV series like, now). Sonia dislikes any media about fictional royals and dramatizations and would prefer not to watch them.

🎀 What's the last nice thing you saw pertaining to rp? !!!!

The last nice thing I saw is all the lovely asks that @yukikorogashi is getting! She's on hiatus mostly right now but her mutuals are being so kind/sweet/understanding about it and that they wish her well, and it's wonderful to see.

I also hope Beckowsky comes back soon for RP on both her blogs and to share her Munday OOTDs! But until then, I'll cheer her on from here.

#more-than-a-princess answered #more-than-a-princess musings #ahogedetective #(Mun communication meme)#(Thanks for the asks!)#(Getting this in right before it becomes Tuesday in my timezone)

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drinkthemlock · 9 months ago

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8, 12, and 13 for the ask game! :)

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Not sure if there is a “the sorrows of young werther” fandom here on tumble.gov (wertherinos/wertherheads/whatever hmu) but I could talk for hours about how Werther didn’t kill himself just over not being able to be with Charlotte and it was instead a long steady descent from being sad and obsessive into being erratic and suicidal (and how absolutely interesting it is to notice similarities with the way we, contemporary ppl, deal with depression and suicidal ideation inside a novel from the 1770s. One of the reasons I like Werther so much is how real and human his feelings are under all the Romanticism). That’s just a really simplistic way of viewing the novel, plus all the weird comments about how Werther is just Goethe’s self insert and how strange it is that his vent book became one of the most famous novels of the 18th century are annoying— let my boy cook!!!!!

🎶He was looking for a job and then he found a job (and heavens knows he’s miserable now).🎶

12. the unpopular character you actually like and why more people should like them

I’m Bishop Myriel’s biggest warrior. He’s not “unpopular” in the sense that he is widely disliked, but in the sense that his character is not nearly explored enough by the fandom! The passage with conventionnel is just… *screams*. There are not nearly enough fics about his pre-brick shenanigans, which is a shame. You better think about that old man, boy !!

13. worst blorbofication

gosh, nicole… idk if you’ve read “the secret history” but its main characters have been blorbofied to an extent often so far removed from their actual characterization in the novel that if you were to read some fics with their names changed you wouldn’t even be able to tell it was about TSH lmao.

Also, not to poke a bear – and I did want to keep these responses strictly fiction-related – but the blorbofication of some historical figures on here is….. concerning. to say the least. do not reject one black and white view of history for another etc etc. and i’ll leave it at that :)

Thank you sm for the ask!! <3

ask game here

#i hope i managed to make myself clear on number 8-#obvi charlotte is a big deal in that novel. but she’s not the whole deal yk? anyway #ask game #daytrader-vader #ask

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cloudbattrolls · 9 months ago

Text

The System is Rigged

Guardian Artifice | 463 sweeps prior | Civitrecce

Civitrecce in the light season: sweltering by most trolls’ standards. Even its founder, coming from a faraway hot region as they did, still sweated in the humid air, laboring in their workshop.

Torvah looked at the screen in front of them, lips pursed, wiping off their forehead - not that it helped much - with a tired hand.

A breeze started wafting toward them as they heard a fan turned on, and the yellowblood looked over and blinked in surprise before smiling.

“Thank you, Arty.”

“Don’t. You’re not going to like what I have to say.” It said, dry as it crossed its arms.

“I can still thank you.” They said gently.

It paused, its single visible green-slit eye unreadable.

“Torvah. You should get rid of my emotions. Either that or start from scratch with more regulation. This isn’t sustainable, not for what you want. I’m going to develop errors in judgment.”

The bald troll went still, their expression falling.

“I…”

“Wanted to give me full sapience.” It finished. “Maybe it feels good to you. Not me, the only sapient thing of my kind, and I can’t even want something else to be made.” It said with a slightly amused huff.

“Inflicting this on another artifice? Haha, no. And the trolls would hate it. They already don’t like me.”

Torvah turned away from their screen to look at their creation, their slim gray fingers laced together.

“You haven’t…you don’t try to give them reasons to like you, Arty.” The yellowblood said hesitantly.

Its green slit glowed as its expression turned to a snarl.

“It wouldn’t matter, Torvah. I’m a security system, not a pet dog! Though that’s how some of them see me.” It muttered, its ears flicking irritably.

“Cute, silly Arty - until it acts out. Then they take me seriously. If they don’t dislike me, I’m a funny windup toy they can’t perceive as being separate from you.”

It stepped closer, its pale silver clothing swaying as it moved.

“I can’t say they’re wrong. Everything I am, every way I’ve changed, is because of you. I get it. But take away my awareness of it. I don’t want to understand what’s being done to me.”

Torvah slumped into a nearby chair, head in their hands.

Arty looked at the wooden workshop ceiling, the simple furniture hand-made by the trolls here, including that chair. A humble place, despite the high-tech future their creator envisioned for their settlement.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Arty.” Said the psiionic. “I…what should I do? I have to keep updating you…”

It stepped closer and put its metallic hands on their shoulders. They dropped their own to look at it blearily. It steadied itself, made sure its strong grip wouldn’t bruise them.

“That’s not the problem. Just make sure I don’t understand. Make me unaware of it, unable to care. It’s the only way we’ll ever get any peace.”

“But it’s so cruel…” Torvah started, and Arty groaned.

“There you go, projecting again. For someone so smart you sure can be dumb! I’m an artifice. I exist to do a job. Why don’t we optimize me to do it.” It hissed, through gritted steel teeth forced into a facsimile of a smile.

“This isn’t a novel, Torvah, where the drone or robot wants to ‘break free’. Look at Process. I’m more like them than I’ll ever be like you. Accept it.”

It stared its creator down, green slits on black sclera into the fully green eyes that were responsible for its own color.

Torvah put a hand over one of Arty’s hands.

“What if I gave you the ability to control your emotions?”

They picked over the words delicately, slow and thoughtful.

It raised its visible eyebrow, the other hidden like its eye behind a white shock of hair.

“I’m listening.” It said.

“It would take some time…but I could give you suppression and alteration.”

It tilted its head.

“Not what I asked for. But I’m not getting that, am I.” It stated flatly.

Torvah bit their lip, looking away.

“This is a difficult patch, Arty.” (The biotech construct rolled its eyes). “I see now I haven’t supported you enough. Your emotions will be useful, I promise.”

“I want to punch a shark.” It said.

“…I promise.” They repeated, sounding halfway between laughter and exasperation.

“I also want to punch you, but I’d hurt your wimpy little bones.”

Torvah did laugh this time, and got up from their chair, still keeping Arty’s hand in its own.

“My bones are less wimpy than anyone here, except Leeson.” They said in amusement.

“Doubt it. Your matesprit’s a twig. Bet I could throw him.”

Torvah chuckled.

“Please don’t.”

It blinked innocently.

“No promises.”

The Machinat led their creation out of the workshop, guiding it by its hand as they both enjoyed the moonlight together for a brief, peaceful moment.

#guardian artifice #torvah verdan #cloud writes #short little thing. less than 1k #just to show more of these two and how they did and didn't get along

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rhpsdys · 2 years ago

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president raine thoughts below — partial spoilers but also partial not because i've been talking about this for months now.

we saw a bunch of the coven heads quite literally attempt to seize the throne (lol) only to be stopped by darius && eber. we don't get a clear sense of what the power structure in the isles is now, but there are a few things we do:

no one jumped directly into the top leadership role

it's not eda, she's the new school headmaster

it's not lilith, she's focusing on the library, and being a historian (i'll make a post about that later, as it pertains to raine && the bard library)

there's no indication that darius, who is the other person i can see taking charge, actually is in that leadership role

raine's new outfit is extremely regal

raine was hanging out apparently overseeing the coven sigil removal, which feels to me like something they wouldn't have a reason to be there for (past their own) unless they were there as a leader. you know?

so, this is how i see it happening. honestly, it's not much different from what i've said before.

a week or so after the (main) events of the episode, the coven heads meet to discuss their plan moving forward. the question comes up of whether or not hunter has any "right" to the throne. raine && darius point out that they shouldn't be having this conversation without him, so he's called in to join them. opinions are pretty split. some think he shouldn't even be there, && certainly shouldn't have any proximity to leadership. others feel like he is technically the rightful successor. in the end, one thing is clear, however: he's far too young, && even if he wanted that role (he doesn't), he needs to focus on being a kid from now on, not to mention working through all the trauma.

so they're back to square one again. "should it even be one of us?" "do we have the right to make that decision for everyone?" "could we even get everyone to vote?" "it'll be chaos if we let anyone nominate themselves"

in the end, they decide that at least for now, in order to preserve some semblance of familiar structure, leadership of the boiling isles will remain among the nine of them. once things have settled, they'll re-evaluate, and leave it to the people to vote on a leader. but for now, it has to be one of them, with the other eight + hunter acting as counsel members, so no one has absolute power. they each pick one person to nominate, && it can't be themselves.

of the nine + hunter, one voted for darius, one voted for hettie... && eight voted for raine. raine protested very much, expression explicit disinterest in that sort of responsibility or power, but of course it's darius who says, "the only good leaders are the ones that hate being in charge", && well... that settles it. so raine agrees on the condition that they will not accept the title of 'emperor', so it has to be something else, && they will only stay in power until the isles have fully been rebuild && things are steady.

the people of the isles accept them warmly.

in the end, the job becomes 'president' rather than emperor, though most just refer to raine as 'head witch'... which is honestly more comfortable for them. && despite their dislike of public speaking, they make a fine leader — charismatic, involved, passionate, && deeply caring.

&& when the time comes, shortly after what we see in the timeskip, raine steps down a new leader is elected, && raine settles into their new life with eda.

#out of.#headcanon.#wad spoilers /

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teriyakiandginger · 11 months ago

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"You don't like me very much, do you?"

Teriyaki pauses, in the middle of shelving the stack of books in his arms. He doesn't look down, but he can see Ginger blinking curiously up at him in his peripheral.

He's relieved that he's at the very top of the ladder, so she doesn't notice the way his fingers tighten around the spine of the book and how he has to shift his weight so he doesn't lose his balance.

When he opens his mouth to respond, he draws in a shaky breath.

"I have no reason to like or dislike you." he responds curtly. "So long as you do your job properly."

That's right. He has no need for such useless sentiments; he's a man of science after all. Flowery language and cursory emotions are a waste of energy, and all detract from his ultimate goal of pursuing concrete, infallible knowledge.

He steadies himself and climbs down the ladder, ignoring how tightly his heart constricts when he sees her smile.

It's just an organ.

"I guess I walked right into that one," Ginger grins before nodding towards the stack of books in his arms. "need any help with those?"

"No." he simply says, pulling the ladder to the other side of the shelf. With his back turned to her, he's much more at ease. If he can't see her, then he can't find another attribute of hers to commit to memory.

She doesn't listen, though, she never does. Instead, she snatches the books from him and climbs the ladder herself before he can react.

"What are you doing?" he furrows his brows.

"Trying to get on your good side," she hums.

"Is this why you've been following me around all day?" he sighs.

She winces sheepishly. "Was it that obvious? I thought I was being pretty subtle." she says, as she lifts the stack of books that should be much too heavy for her.

Teriyaki, with eyes trained to notice and analyze every little detail, follows the movement as if it had a magnetic pull, dragging his gaze across Ginger's features. He drinks in the color of her eyes, the slope of her nose, the flutter of her eyelashes, the glow of her skin, and the tinted sheen on her lips like he were studying a textbook on astrophysics.

But it would be stupid to compare her to any branch of science.

Science produces results, logic and answers. She is loud and obnoxious, a hindrance more than a help to most of the daily tasks, cutting down productivity by at least fifty percent with her chattering and penchant for distraction.

She is a person with a naturally alluring disposition that draws people in. She is able to speak to anyone with a charm that seems mystical to him. She is a warmth that only exists in the confines of fantasy. She is everything he finds to be a waste of time in a person, and she is everything that he is not.

She is the only anomaly that he can't solve.

"You are many things, but subtle is not one of them."

The snide remark makes Ginger laugh, and the ladder, as old and rickety as it is, trembles at the motion. As if it were a reflex, Teriyaki reaches out his hand and steadies the ladder.

It's a pointless gesture, really. Him holding the ladder still doesn't eliminate the risk of her falling - yet, he grips the wooden material so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

"Is it so wrong of me to want to be friends with my classmate? We've been working together for ages now.", she whines.

'Friends'. What a ridiculous title, he thinks to himself. He and Ginger can barely even be regarded as acquaintances, but she's somehow found a way to establish a connection. Teriyaki doesn't even want to be acquaintances with her, most certainly not friends.

He despises that she is almost nothing to him. Why couldn't she be something or just nothing? She's almost. Almost something and almost nothing all at the same time. That grey area makes him feel, feel, feel-that damn word- like he isn't in control; it's an ugly, dark sensation that coils in the pit of his stomach like a venomous snake.

"I don't want to be friends with you," he chokes out, a desperate tinge to his voice that he hopes she doesn't notice.

"Well, I'm a lot more stubborn than you think, so just you wait." Ginger replies in a teasing manner.

A muscle in his jaw spasms just as someone calls out her name, sparing him from having to respond.

Teriyaki watches as her face, the one he's been enraptured with since the moment he's laid eyes on her, lights up with an expression that he will never be able to bring out of her.

She hurriedly climbs down the ladder, her conversation with him long forgotten, and he doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Hoji!"

Logically, it makes sense that she would end up with Hoji. He leads with his heart instead of his head, he lets his personal attachments get in the way of rationality, and he's a person that will consider Ginger's feelings first and foremost. And above all, he has the capacity to love her.

Love, a mere chemical defect of the brain. Love, needless self-sacrifice for a temporary high. Love, a concept that Teriyaki will never understand.

He watches the way she smoothes out the non-existent wrinkles in her shirt,

the way she aimlessly fidgets with her fingers and bounces on the balls of her feet,

the way she drinks the can of black coffee he hands her even though she dumps at least five spoonfuls of sugar in her normal cup, the way she sucks on her bottom lip to hide the bitterness and smear away the lip gloss she put on especially for him,

the way her breath hitches when he laces her fingers through his and brings her knuckles to his lips.

The way she looks at Hoji just like Teri looks at her.

'"You don't like me very much, do you?"'

No, he doesn't.

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sphylor · 8 months ago

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I’m sorry but you’re writing this as if I don’t know these things? As if I don’t also live in this capitalist hellscape that the majority of people live in? Like I’m queer, poor, mentally ill/disabled and trans in the UK. I KNOW what it's like to be so beaten down and cranky and tired and fed up with the world and in a constant state of crisis. Like I have had to wake up at 6am most days for school and work for like a decade now. Yes, these reasons might be why people dislike the natural world. But also don’t you think that this is why we should be Encouraging people to not hate it? And to connect with it? So many studies have been done that prove that connecting with nature improves mental health. Like obviously it will not fix all your problems or cure your depression but it still helps. I know what it's like to be so miserable and tired that I can't afford an inch of kindness but also changing up my perspective of things has made me be in that situation less. Going from thinking “the birds have woken me up early again i hate that” to “wow i get to hear this beautiful birdsong im lucky to be alive in this moment” has genuinely helped me so much in feeling better about life despite everything. because at the end of the day the birds are gonna sing whether im annoyed at them about it or not. so why make my life harder and more miserable? at the end of the day someone being in such a state of crisis that they cannot be kind is a sign they need help. and is not an excuse for their behaviour.

There are people who are privileged enough to get enough sleep and have a stable job and steady income and lots of money etc etc who HATE wildlife and the natural world. And there are people who are living paycheck to paycheck and don't have a stable life and don't get enough sleep whose passion is the natural world. I think the reason why so many people don't like it isn’t because they are in a state of crisis but rather that they just are not educated enough about nature. They don't know how cool and interesting it is and so just don't engage with it in any way because they don't know how to. I'm sure a lot more people would appreciate morning birdsong if they were able to identify which birds are singing just based on their songs. I'm not saying that everyone has to become an ornithologist or have an extreme interest in birds obviously but I've seen and experienced firsthand how much more enriching life gets when you learn more about the world that's literally on your doorstep.

I do believe that capitalism has a part to play in all of this, of course. But it's the fact that it WANTS people to hate the morning birdsong. It WANTS people to not engage with and learn about the natural world. It WANTS as few people as possible to care about nature so that it can destroy it irreversibly with little to no resistance. Again, another reason why it's so important for people to try and care.

I never said it in my original post so I obviously won't hold it against you for not knowing, but the reason why I wrote it was because I kept seeing people wishing genuine harm on birds for singing in the morning. I saw people saying that we shouldn’t feed them or accommodate them. I've seen people be so vehemently against the very idea of birds being anywhere near them that they cut back hedgerows and fell trees and destroy every form of habitat they have. And these people are not normally depressed teens forced to sleep and wake up at abnormal times for their circadian rhythm at that age. They’re well off adults who may be miserable but at that point the misery is self inflicted. the tweet i saw that inspired this post was about someone's experience with a miserable man in their village who told them to stop feeding the birds because they woke him up in the morning. that is the type of person my post was about.

Nature for me is something that helps me when I'm in that state of crisis. When I'm struggling with everything going on in my life and I think that everything is hopeless. I’ve been at the deepest point in my life before and then heard my favourite birds singing their songs. And that has pulled me away from the edge. So please don't talk down to me as if I don't know what it's like. I will enjoy the morning birdsong and encourage others to try and do the same for as long as I can.

ive been seeing so many things lately about how people hate being woken up by the birds singing in the morning which is really heartbreaking to me... i got woken up by the birds singing at 5am this morning and i felt alive...

#i am not interested in any further dicussion on this.

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decarbry · 2 years ago

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Noooooo but what's the UA staff and kids reactions to seeing nomuzawa? Like my heart low-key is breaking for them bc the teacher that just fought for them, with no regard to his own safety, was not only taken from them after stalling long enough for backup, but now he's a nomu and fighting them? And mic? Midnight? Allmight? Ughhhhhhh????!!! (But no o love this au so so much lmao)

I'm saving the actual Nomu reveal and reactions to it for later once I decide on a storytelling format but here are some initial reactions to the abduction

all of the students naturally share some level of guilt, even though they only knew Aizawa for a handful of days. nature of heroes in training and good hearts, plus, yeah, they watched this man sacrifice himself for their safety. this version of the event definitely impacts them harder than it does in canon. Not quite their Oboro moment but boy it's the closest so far any have had

Midoriya is Midoriya and is smart enough to know that in the end his (lack of) ability would never have been able to change the end result but still lets the failure riddle him for the rest of his life. Definitely still in crying mode this early on

Bakugou is left shell-shocked by this, possibly to an overreaction. As a tactician he also knows deep down he did his best (as a kid that has been in hero school for literally just a few days) but isn't willing to accept it. He should have been able to do something more. But we all know Bakugou and this is just fuel on the fire

All Might is understandably guilt-ridden as well, since he's "never failed to save someone after arriving", but the situation isn't as straightforward as one would think. It's one thing if a student is hurt/killed/taken but a pro is another, and Aizawa knew what he was getting into by jumping into a 1 v 40 combat scenario. That's just what pros sign up for. All Might is ready to leap into action the moment those investigating need assistance or have a location and certainly does some of his own investigating on the side as time allows

Thirteen feels frustration in herself initially but is able to take solace in the fact that she and Aizawa did what they were meant to do, and knows that Aizawa would be feeling the exact same way

Nezu makes only a single public statement out of respect for Aizawa's dislike of his name in the press, it's short and sweet and truthfully paints Aizawa as a hero that did his job and saved the lives of 20 students. He does commit the school's resources to assisting authorities in recovering the teacher but unfortunately that's where it ends since he needs to focus on the safety of the students as priority and UA can't just go around playing police (until the government makes them lmao)

Midnight was among the majority of the responding faculty that decided to arrive together in a show of power and so didn't witness Aizawa being taken, but is understandably very upset that one of her remaining high school friends is now gone. She's able to steady herself as a rock for Mic out of necessity (unhealthily suppressing her own more-volatile reaction for his sake) and is really the only reason Mic didn't just up and run out to do something unhelpful and reckless. In the hours after the event she cannot leave his side for fear of him running off

Mic is, naturally, the worst impacted. He refuses to wait for the teachers to gather into a group and ran in after All Might but before the rest, and so was the only pro/faculty to get a front-row seat to the abduction as All Might was distracted by the Nomu. He immediately wants to go guns-blazing but without any hint as to where Aizawa was taken or what they plan to do with him, is forced to sit by and wait. He ends up walking away from the school out of frustration after about a month without answers, but no one blames him and they're honestly just shocked he had the self-control to wait that long

#Yabureme Aizawa AU #nomu aizawa #boku no hero academia #text post #not art #haha if you read this whole thing you get a cookie

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deepdarkdelights · 3 years ago

Text

Mistletoe | Sope x Reader

Pairing: Sope x Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Kidnapping, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Drugging, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Binding the MC

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: There was mistletoe strung up at the top of the doorframe. This just screamed Hoseok’s doing and now you were internally cursing him wherever he may be in the damn house.

“It is a tradition, isn’t it?” He mused, “You know the rules.”

Who even made it a tradition anyway? Who decided that it was a good idea to kiss a stranger underneath a plant that had the toxic potential to kill you?

A/N: Merry early Christmas / Happy Holidays everyone! I worked on this for three days straight, be proud of me! I haven’t released a fic since Halloween and I feel so guilty about that, but you know how life gets in the way. I hope you like this fic, it’s not one of the greatest but it is a nice little treat for the season. I hope to see you in my inbox and in my comments, thank you. 💜💜💜

Your eyes were trained on the window across the office, your elbow propped up on your desk and your palm cupping your chin. There was a slow but steady fall of snow outside accompanied by the delicate lace patterns of frost on the edges of the panes. It was beautiful, the very definition of a winter wonderland.

It was days like these where you wished you loved Christmas.

The holiday season had never really treated you all too well. You got anxious easily in crowds so it was difficult for you to go to some of your favorite places. Coffee shops, book stores, and boutiques were all clogged up with throngs of people that were just as miserable as you, albeit for different reasons. They were tired of long lines and endless shopping, you were tired of the entire season.

You considered yourself to be a fairly lonely person, you had become rather accustomed to it. But you would be lying if you said there weren’t some days where you wished you were more cherished.

You disliked the holiday season because it isolated you even more. The few close friends you still had all traveled home for the holidays, doing the natural thing and spending their spare moments of free time with their families.

You didn’t have that same luxury. You had grown up in a household with a single mother and you were the only child. The memories you had of your mother were far and few in between. She worked two jobs to keep you and herself afloat and that meant picking up every available extra shift. And holidays? Well, those were just time and a half days. Double the paycheck.

You couldn’t remember a Christmas that you had not spent alone huddled up on the couch and wrapped in a thread-worn blanket as you watched the constant reruns of the same holiday movies you saw every year.

You couldn’t bear to watch those movies now, they just dragged up old wounds that still leaked around the bandages.

And now, well, you didn’t really have a family to spend time with. When you were old enough to leave the house your mother could work less and have more time for herself and so she began to enter the world of dating again, and she had struck metaphorical and literal gold. A businessman who had devoted his life to work and was suddenly grieving for the life he never had. Or, in other words, a guy who wanted to spoil your hardworking mother rotten.

He was nice enough, he never stepped over any boundaries, never expected you to call him “Dad” and he treated your mother well. She didn’t have to work any longer and she was busy traveling the world with him. She was finally happy and you couldn’t fault her for that.

But you couldn’t deny that there was a pit in your stomach, deep-rooted envy that she could leave you behind so easily. It was a deadly game of tug of war between your heart and mind, oftentimes your mind emerging as the victor. But on days like these that were exceptionally cold and fat snowflakes rained down outside, you were transported back to those lonely days in that studio apartment where your heart would win.

It was easier to be alone.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” You heard a voice squeal as a person ran behind you. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

You pressed your lips together to stifle an amused laugh that threatened to bubble up. You scooted backward from your desk, the wheels of your chair faintly squeaking as you pivoted to look at the cubicle beside you.

Tall, glowing skin, big dark eyes, and ash brown hair, it was your co-worker, Hoseok. His cheeks and ears were flushed a shade of pink from the wind and he was bundled up in a thick jacket and with a scarf that was wrapped around his neck and mouth, his nose just peeking out over the woolen fabric. For a full-grown man, he was obscenely cute.

He reluctantly shrugged off his coat and slung it around the back of his chair before unwinding his scarf from around his face, revealing that brilliant smile that could thaw the stubborn winter that had settled in.

The two of you weren’t close by any means, at least not in your mind. Hoseok had such a warm personality with everyone in the office you often failed to realize just how much he catered to you. And although you were a person who had grown accustomed to being alone, you couldn’t deny that a dose of Hoseok every day left you feeling rather warm inside. But only a dose, of course, too much of a good thing is inevitably a bad thing. And the same goes for charming men with dazzling smiles.

Once he had finally settled into the space he scooped up a carrying tray he had brought with him and rushed over to your cubicle.

“Merry Christmas!” He shouted excitedly with a little wiggle as he placed the tray on your desk, his long fingers twisting the to-go cup free and sliding it in your direction.

“Hoseok, Christmas isn’t for another two days.” You reminded him, that familiar resentment swirling in your heart as you pulled the stopper out of your drink, leaning forward to sniff the sweet scent of the peppermint latte. That was the one thing that was bearable about the season, the drinks.

Hoseok pouted as he leaned against the wall of the cubicle, his fingers tracing the lid of his own cup, “You’re grumpier than usual, what’s going on?”

“I’m grumpy just because I corrected you?” You asked with a slow blink before attempting to take a sip of your latte only to flinch away when the all-too-hot liquid scalded the tip of your tongue.

“Yes, exactly, I’m glad that we’re both on the same page here,” he chuckled, “Seriously though, what’s going on? Everyone else is so excited, it’s our last day of work before the holidays! You should be happy, especially to see me!” He added with a wink.

You felt a slight twitch of your eyebrow from his words. You were well aware you weren’t like most people around this time of the year but you weren’t going to spill your sob story to a guy you barely knew. The same guy you barely knew that persisted to bring you new caffeinated drinks every day despite your protests. You had heard from around the office that men and women alike were jealous of your interactions with Hoseok, and you could understand that. But what they didn’t see was how painfully one-sided the interactions were. What had you ever given Hoseok in return? Now that, that did inspire some guilt inside of you.

“I just have a lot of work to get done so that I don’t fall behind when we come back. It’s just annoying is all.” You sighed, you weren’t necessarily lying, but you weren’t telling the entire truth.

And it seemed as if Hoseok could sense that, his shoulders sagging slightly as he looked away before speaking again, “I heard Yoongi offered you a ride home last night but you turned him down.”

Yoongi, another one of your co-workers as well as Hoseok’s roommate. Yoongi was a peculiar case. He was very good at making you feel uncomfortable. He was known as the quiet one around the office which was what made it so jarring to learn that he lived with Hoseok. You couldn’t imagine the two of them sharing a living space, that was of course until you saw Hoseok make him laugh and he, in turn, would joke around with him. He had an adorable smile and an even better laugh, but both of those things were never given to you or anyone else in the building.

Hoseok was right, Yoongi had offered to give you a ride home last night. The snowfall had thickened considerably and would make the walk to the metro all the more troublesome. But you decided that walking was better than being trapped in a car, alone, with him. You found solace in the idea that there were other people in the building, but being alone with Yoongi was something you would try to avoid.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Yoongi, it was just like you said, he made you uncomfortable. There were times where you could feel his pitch-black gaze digging into you as you sat at your desk. It was unwavering and intense, like a tiger stalking a gazelle.

Technically, he never did anything wrong. It was the feeling that curled deep in your stomach that made you so skittish around him. It was the sense that you shouldn’t cross him, he had an imposing aura without even trying.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to trouble him. Besides, the metro isn’t very far.”

“That’s not the point though, the point is that it isn’t safe for you to walk home alone at night.”

“Trust me, Hoseok, I am well aware of that. I can handle myself fine enough.”

“It’s cute how stubborn you are, really,” He said, his face telling a different story, “But for once would you let someone look out for you? We just want you to be safe.”

“We?” You echoed, your brows pinched together.

“Me and Yoongi, we care about you, you know that.”

No, no you didn’t. You couldn’t tell if he was lying or if you were oblivious, or if your childhood had left a phantom scar on your psyche and you were exceptionally bad at deciphering whether people cared for you or not. Sure, Hoseok brought you coffee every day but he was just being nice. He was just being Hoseok. And Yoongi, well you really couldn’t tell if he cared at all. Maybe he did and you were just bad at noticing, he did offer to take you home after all. Maybe the way he showed that he cared was far more subtle than that of the average person.

Maybe…maybe you were the one in the wrong here.

You looked away from Hoseok, nervous that your face would betray what you were feeling.

“You, you do know that? Right?” He asked you, leaning into your space even more. You didn’t have to see his face to know that he was concerned.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Hoseok. I’m fine.”

“Usually when people say they're fine, that means that they’re not.”

“What are you my therapist now?” You retorted snarkily, “Go get some work done, you can’t hang around me all day.”

A frown settled on his heart-shaped lips as he looked you in your eyes, there was determination in their depths, one that made you shift in your seat uncomfortably.

“You know what? You should come over to my place tomorrow, spend Christmas Eve with me and Yoongi.”

“What?” You nearly choked, the very idea itself setting you on edge.

Hoseok gripped the armrests of your chair and swung you around to face him before he leaned in even closer, his arms caging you in and effectively making you feel trapped and cornered as if you had nowhere else to go.

“You heard me! We’ll throw a good old-fashioned Christmas office party! I’ll invite everyone on our floor. It'll be so much fun!”

Your heart lurched at the notion of such a party. Not only would you be stuck with Yoongi and the slightly more bearable Hoseok, but also everyone from work you rarely spoke to. You were used to your isolated Christmas, content with it even. This was far too great of a change.

“I can’t, that’s such short notice.”

“Why? Do you have plans?” He asked, the smile falling from his face as his tone flattened out. He seemed almost agitated. Like the idea of you being with someone else disturbed him.

You were silent in return. You couldn’t deny that you had no plans and, not to mention, he was practically towering over you, trapping you in your chair. Hoseok had suddenly embodied Yoongi’s imposing nature physically. And, to be honest, you felt more stifled by him than you had ever felt with Yoongi. Once the silence began to stretch too long and he realized that you were in fact not saying that you were busy, his smile returned although it was softer and more pleading. More like the Hoseok you knew.

“Come on, think of it as a way to pay me back for your morning coffee.”

So, he had resorted to guilt-tripping you. You hated owing people, you never owe anyone anything. Ever since you realized that you had to be independent and self-sufficient, you never relied on anyone. You were the only thing that was constant in your life. But now, Hoseok had secretly collected all of your debts to him and was offering compensation in one simple request. You would do this one thing and then you would never take another drink from him ever again.

You were right, you were the only person you could ever fully rely on.

You sighed, pushing your feet against the floor and inching backward in your chair. “Text me the time and the address.”

“Thank you!” He squealed. “I promise you, you won’t regret this!”

~~~~~~~

It was seven o’clock and you were seriously regretting this.

You stood outside in the frigid winter air and the pitch-black night, your breath misting in front of your face as you stared at the front stoop of the home. There was a trail of footprints behind you in the thickening layers of snow, the walk had been arduous. The lightbulb above the door was flickering in an almost ominous manner as your fingers curled up in your pockets. There was a part of you that desperately wanted to turn around and go back home. But you were tired from the journey you had just made and you were craving the warmth that was ensured a few steps away.

You took a calming breath, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you collected yourself. You opened your eyes and walked forward with determination, raising your hand up to ring the doorbell before you talked yourself out of it. But, before you could press the glowing button, the door flung itself open as if someone had been eagerly awaiting your arrival.

Your blood felt like ice, like the winter wind had frozen it over, when you realized who was there. You were face to face with Yoongi, mere inches away from one another. He had an unreadable expression on his face before the corners of his lips twitched and he spoke.

“Merry Christmas.”

You stared at him dumbly, your mouth feeling as if it had gone dry and your tongue incapable of forming words.

“Are you going to come inside or are you going to stand in the snow all day?” He asked, his tone slightly teasing but his face blank.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll come inside.” You said with a nod.

Yoongi stepped to the side, raising his arm up and jerking his head to the right to usher you inside. As soon as you entered the house and the door was closed tightly behind you, you were flooded with warmth. You sighed in content, your fingers and toes scrunching up as heat wrapped you up in its welcome embrace.

You jumped in surprise as you felt Yoongi come closer to you, his fingers gripping the zipper of your coat and pulling it down, a focused look on his face as he helped you slide your arms free from the sleeves and hang the coat up.

You looked up at him, confused, startled, and with cheeks that were quickly heating up.

“You looked like you could use some help with that.” He said, referring to your frozen stance in the doorway.

“Shoes off at the door.” He reminded you, eyes trained on the mat beneath your boots that was steadily becoming wet.

“Is that who I think it is?!” A voice called from further inside.

“She’s here, Hobi,” Yoongi called back, his gaze still trained on you as you shuffled out of your boots.

“Come on, he’s in the kitchen.” He stated before nonchalantly grabbing your hand and tugging you in the direction of the other man’s voice.

Your eyes flickered up and down between his back and his hand that was firmly grasping your own. You were feeling a good blend of embarrassment and discomfort. You and Yoongi barely spoke to one another but now he was undressing you and holding your hand as if the two of you were far more intimate than you really were. You knew Hoseok better than you knew him but he was acting like it was the opposite.

Yoongi ushered you into the kitchen before stepping back and leaning against the door frame, watching you and Hoseok from a distance. This you were used to, despite it being uncomfortable it was familiar and you were far more content with that than whatever had just gone down between the two of you.

“There’s my pretty little present!” Hoseok yelled, facing you with a big grin before tightly wrapping you up in his arms, settling his chin on top of your head.

Your body tensed up once more, your head leaning to the side in an attempt to distance yourself from him. Why was he being so touchy? He never hugged you, sure he toed your boundaries every now and then and you knew he was an affectionate person, but this was way too much for you.

“Merry Christmas, Hoseok.” You managed to say as he pulled away from you, his hands resting on your shoulders as he gently smiled at you.

You noticed there was flour dusting his cheek, and not only that, he was wearing a ridiculous apron that said “Let’s Get Baked” over a gaudy red and green sweater.

“Merry Christmas!” He echoed, “I just threw some cookies in the oven, trust me you’ll love them.”

“Yeah, if you plan on not burning them this year.” Yoongi teased from his spot.

“You, shut the fuck up, I will not have this slander in my kitchen,” Hoseok yelled in contrast with the gleeful grin that still lit up his face.

“Um, am I early? It doesn’t look like anyone is here yet.” You finally managed to interject.

You looked between Hoseok and Yoongi, both of them sharing an equally confused look with one another before Yoongi finally spoke up, “Oh, I’m sure everyone else is just running late, snow’s coming down pretty hard.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. I’m sure they’ll be here any minute.” Hoseok agreed, “Sweetheart, why don’t you go and get comfortable, I left some blankets on the couch.” He said, gesturing to the living room past Yoongi.

“I’ll join you in a minute, just let me get cleaned up.” He reassured you, noticing your hesitation as you looked at the space between Yoongi and the doorframe.

You nodded slowly, watching him disappear around the corner as he headed towards what you assumed was the bathroom through the other door frame.

You anxiously curled your fingers into your palms as you tried to rush past Yoongi, your gaze trained on the other room, refusing to look at him. But, before you could slide past him he raised his arm up and blocked your path, closing off your escape route and forcing you to look at him in utter confusion. Had he not just heard what Hoseok said?

“Are you forgetting something, angel?” He asked but it sounded much more like a suggestion.

You looked at him, dumbfounded. You didn’t think that you were forgetting anything, you hadn’t brought anything into the kitchen with you.

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips before his eyes flickered up to the ceiling and back down to you. You silently looked at him before craning your head back and attempting to see what was so important and upon seeing said thing your eyes widened comically in horror.

There was mistletoe strung up at the top of the doorframe.

This just screamed Hoseok’s doing and now you were internally cursing him wherever he may be in the damn house.

“It is a tradition, isn’t it?” He mused, “You know the rules.”

Who even made it a tradition anyway? Who decided that it was a good idea to kiss a stranger underneath a plant that had the toxic potential to kill you? This was the most Yoongi had ever spoken to you, how was it expected that now you would have to kiss him too when his very presence already stressed you the fuck out?

Yoongi didn’t allow you to stand there and stew in your thoughts for long. You flinched as you felt the cool metal of his rings brush the skin of your jaw, his hands cupping your face before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek dangerously close to your mouth. His lips brushed over the skin of your cheek, they felt so warm and soft your heart immediately quickened from their light touch. He parted from your skin for a moment only to lean back in and press a light kiss to the tip of your nose.

Once he pulled back, his hands still remained to cradle your face as his tongue slightly peaked out to lick his lips before he gave you a genuine smile, the smile that you had only ever seen him give Hoseok. It was sweet and gummy and would normally warm anyone’s heart. But under your circumstances, you just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. You didn’t like being cornered, you didn’t like to be forced into doing things you didn’t want to do and tonight was seriously testing your boundaries.

You wanted to go home.

Yoongi didn’t say anything, he merely slid to the side and allowed you to rush past him in a panic, your flustered footsteps echoing down the hallway as you sped into the living room and instantly plopped yourself down onto the couch. Hoseok had been right, there were a few blankets covering the cushions and without thinking you grabbed a fistful of whatever was there and buried your heated face into the plush material.

You slowly rubbed your face against the blankets, the soft fabric smoothing over your skin and helping you calm down as you balled up your legs into your chest.

You just needed to wait, to be patient, before you knew it everyone else would arrive and you wouldn’t feel so frightened. Sure, you may feel a little claustrophobic but that would be preferable to whatever weird energy there was in this house.

Your grip loosened slightly as you allowed yourself to let out a deep breath that you desperately needed, your chest was starting to feel tight, you were getting panicky. It was nothing new but you still hated that fluttery feeling in your heart and your stomach. You just needed to relax, of course, that was easier said than done.

“Sweetheart!” Hoseok called, your body jumping in response.

Sweetheart? That was the second time he had called you that, what was up with that?

“Wanna pick out a movie? Looks like the snow’s getting worse there’s no telling when everyone else will get here, might as well have a little fun without them.” He laughed, throwing himself down onto the open space beside you causing you to scooch to the side in discomfort.

“It’s fine, um…you can just pick.” You mumbled, pulling the blanket around you tighter.

“What? No, you’re our guest you should pick!”

You stayed quiet for a moment, slightly biting your tongue in thought before you finally spoke, “I don’t really like Christmas movies if I’m being honest.”

Hoseok’s smile fell a little, almost like he was upset that you didn’t want to go along with his plans before his smile returned along with an idea. “I think I have just the movie for you.”

You raised an eyebrow in questioning as he grabbed the TV remote before pulling up a streaming service. You gently rested your chin on your knees as you watched him. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed in concentration as he looked for whatever film he had in mind. You couldn’t help but notice his pretty profile, he had such high cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted jaw. It was hard not to admire him even though some of his behaviors were…questionable.

Your attention was quickly drawn away from him when Yoongi entered the room, struggling to balance three mugs in his hands. He carefully set one down in front of Hoseok and then the other one down on the far left of the coffee table before he extended the last mug towards you.

Your eyes darted between the mug and his face, back and forth as you decided what to do. It didn’t take you too long to decide, not when Yoongi was looking at you with a satisfied grin that reminded you of his previous actions in the kitchen.

You tugged the mug to you, the ceramic steadily warming your hands. The strong scent of peppermint and the warmth of the drink easily persuaded you to go against your own judgments…or did you? You had said before that you would never take another drink from Hoseok, but this was Yoongi and it was your favorite drink and it was just so invitingly warm on such a cold day. It wouldn’t hurt to have one cup.

“Good girl,” Yoongi murmured as he sat down to your left, effectively sandwiching you in between Hoseok and himself.

“Ah-ha! Found it!” The aforementioned male cried.

“Krampus? A horror movie, Hoseok?” Yoongi asked in utter confusion, leaning forward to look at his roommate.

“Eh, it’s more of a horror-comedy, besides our little guest doesn’t like holiday movies. What could be a better pick than this?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“Alright, if you say so.” Yoongi sighed, leaning back into the couch.

It was now even more awkward than it had been before. All of the lights were dimmed albeit the soft yellow glow of the Christmas tree lights and the garland on the mantel above the fireplace. It was uncomfortably intimate, especially with Hoseok and Yoongi pressed up against you on either side.

You had devoted your attention to three things to distract yourself in such an awkward situation. One being the movie, of course. Two being the front door as you listened painfully for the slightest sound of crunching snow or even better, the doorbell. And three, your hot drink.

You had been steadily killing it, the extra strong flavor of peppermint not deterring you from gulping it down fervently, especially when you suddenly felt Hoseok’s arm rest itself on your shoulders and Yoongi’s leg pressing against your own as his hand rested on your knee.

God this was so uncomfortable and so weird.

Your eyes drifted towards the clock, you had to blink a few times before it was readable, your vision even shaking as you attempted to focus on the digital numbers. It was getting late and still no one else had arrived.

And, to be honest, you weren’t feeling great. You felt light-headed and dizzy, your head having rocked back and forth a few times as you felt as if you were about to pass out. The room was even beginning to spin and your limbs were feeling heavy with dead weight.

You flinched as you felt Yoongi’s hand slowly move up past your knee, his grip tightening around your upper thigh as your legs weakly tried to pull away. Your head limply lulled to the side only to see Hoseok staring at you. How long had he been staring at you for and it had gone unnoticed by you?

“Hoseok,” You slurred, “Yoongi, he-”

“Sh, sweetheart, it’s alright,” He sighed, there was not a single trace of a smile or joy on his face, he was completely serious. “Why don’t you drink a little more of your coffee, hm?”

You whined as your head throbbed, Hoseok’s hand cupping your jaw and tilting your head back as he forced the mug to meet your lips. Afraid to choke in your drowsy state, you downed the rest of the cup as he cooed sweet words of encouragement before putting the mug back down and wiping the excess liquid off of your lips with his thumb.

Your body was steadily growing weaker, sagging back into the cushions as you watched him slide his tongue over his finger.

You could feel Yoongi behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he hoisted you up onto his lap, your back pressed against his chest.

“There you go, angel,” He whispered against the shell of your ear before pressing another slow kiss to your cheek. You could feel his hands now slowly rubbing up and down your sides, from your waist to the top of your ribcage, and stopping just short of the space under your chest.

“Stop it,” You whispered weakly, “I want to go home.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re home now, here, with us.” Yoongi replied, nustling his face into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, his warm breath misting over the exposed skin.

“They’ll come, they’ll be here soon.” You managed to force the words out referring to the other party members that were sure to come.

“Oh sweetheart, no one else is coming, no one ever was.” Hoseok sighed, his hand cupping your face once more and guiding your weak head up to look at him.

“But, you said-”

“I know what I said. I told you whatever I could that would get you here. This is how it was always going to be. Just you, me, and Yoongi. Just the three of us.”

Your mind was completely muddled, just barely managing to process what Hoseok was saying. It was hard enough to focus in the current state you were in, but it was even harder to focus when all you could feel was Yoongi’s hands on your body and his nose and lips softly brushing over your neck as his head slowly moved from side to side.

“Don’t worry, we’re used to sharing everything anyways.” Yoongi breathed before pressing a kiss to the column of your throat and then another, and another, and another…

“A house, bills, groceries, this won’t be so different,” Hoseok mused, “Yoongi and I used to fight over you constantly, but once we realized we both could keep you everything became clear.”

“You won’t…you won’t get away with this.” You struggled to say, causing a sick grin to form on Hoseok’s lips.

“And who will come looking for you, babe? Who even knows that you’re here? No one at work, that's for damn sure.”

Wet, fat tears quickly began leaking out of your eyes and rushing down your cheeks from pure frustration and despair. You didn’t want this, you wanted to go home, you wanted to be alone. Being alone would be far better than this.

“Don’t cry, you should be happy. Can’t you see how wanted you are? You drive us crazy. We can’t just let you go now, not when we finally have you where we want you.”

You whined again, wiggling in irritation as you tried to pull out of Yoongi’s grip only causing his arms to tighten around you as he nipped your neck in warning, forcing your body to be still.

“Be good for us, we don’t want to have to punish you so soon, not on Christmas,” Yoongi said, giving you a good squeeze.

“Good girls get rewarded, behave and you can be so happy here,” Hoseok said, jerking your chin up again so that you could look at him through half-lidded eyes.

You could feel yourself going, you were drifting off against your will. You had fought against whatever they had given you for as long as you could. But, you had always been fighting a losing battle.

“There you go,” Hoseok hummed, “Don’t fight it anymore, just go to sleep, we’ll take care of you.”

And before you finally succumbed to the call of sleep you were hit with two jarring sensations; the harsh press of Hoseok’s lips against yours in a heated kiss and Yoongi’s mouth against your neck leaving a trail of bruises in his wake.

And then, you were gone.

~~~~~~~

It was dark when you woke up again, your head pounding in protest as your eyes attempted to adjust to the dim lighting. Once you were fully conscious you began to notice a few things. One, the clothes that you were wearing were not yours. You were in a baggy pair of sweatpants that you had never seen before as well as an unfamiliar hoodie. Two, your hands were bound together with a red and green ribbon tied securely in a bow, like a Christmas present.

Like you were a Christmas present.

And that was when the panic set in, that was when you realized what situation you had gotten yourself into. You had voluntarily walked into your own kidnapping.

Your body was moving on its own, your fight or flight or freeze response kicking in. You struggled to untangle your legs from the blankets around you, your legs kicking furiously as you rolled over and out of the bed.

You figured that your best chance of escape would be to book it, to run as fast as you could without stopping. You had no idea where Hoseok and Yoongi were but you didn’t have time to think about that, you needed to go.

You took a few deep breaths to try and calm your racing heart and before you could stall any longer you took off, grabbing the bedroom doorknob with your bound hands and forcing it to pop open.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so panicked, if you hadn’t been in such a rush, you would have stopped and asked yourself why they felt so comfortable leaving the door unlocked.

The door flew open so hard it slammed into the wall, the unused lock leaving a dent in the plaster from the force.

All you could hear was the blood rushing through your ears, your cacophonously loud heartbeat and breathing, and the sound of your feet running over the hardwood flooring. If you had been more collected maybe you would have tried to be quieter, maybe you would have tried to sneak away without drawing any potential attention to yourself.

Once you reached the front door you undid the lock and pulled, but the door didn’t budge an inch.

“Come on please, please, please,” You begged, pulling harder on the door in the hopes that it would pop open freely. But it did not.

“No, no, no, no, fuck!” You cried.

You paused for a moment, your heart thudding even harder as you heard the slow but steady sound of footsteps approaching. They weren’t rushing, they were paced and calm like they already knew that you weren’t going anywhere.

You tried harder now, shaking the doorknob and the door in hopes that by some miracle it would come unstuck and you would be set free. But you weren’t that lucky.

You froze as Yoongi came into view, he didn’t look pissed like you expected. Instead, he had a knowing smile on his face as you scurried backward, your back pressing up against the wall.

Yoongi kept eye contact with you as he pressed one hand against the wall and used the other hand to grip the doorknob. And, with one strong pull, the heavy door popped open with a startling crack. It had been frozen shut.

He silently gestured for you to come forward, stepping to the side so that you could. You looked at him wearily, your eyes darting between him, the door, and your bound hands. How far could you make it once you ran? Would he come after you?

You decided to stop thinking and just try, and so you did. You quickly moved forward and swung the door open and prepared to run, only to stop upon the sight before you.

There was a thick wall of snow in front of you with only a little clearance at the top. You wouldn’t be able to reach it and climb out and if you did you might even fall through the layers of snow and get stuck. The air was colder than anything you had ever felt, if you stood outside for too long without the proper clothes you might get hypothermia or frostbite, or even both.

It all made sense now, why they left the doors unlocked and why it was so dark when you woke up. Last night, a storm had rolled through that could rival that of the blizzard of 77’. You were trapped, with them and had no way to get out.

Yoongi slowly closed the door, not bothering to lock it.

“Now, where exactly did you think you were going?”

“Someone will come, they’ll have to clear the snow, you can’t keep me here.” You rushed out, your arms tightening around yourself in a self-soothing manner.

“And who’s to say we’ll even give you the chance to leave when that happens?” Hoseok said, appearing from around the corner with a disappointed look on his face effectively sending chills throughout your body that were not from the cold.

“I thought we told you last night to behave, we don’t want to punish you on Christmas but that doesn’t mean that we won’t.”

You were now realizing just how fucked you were. You were completely at their mercy with no place to run to, no exit in sight. There was no telling how long you were going to be trapped with them or if the storm was even over.

They had you exactly where they wanted you.

“Give her a chance, Hobi. She’s just a little confused.” Yoongi said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Besides, we have plenty of time to teach her to be a good girl, don’t we?”

Hoseok sighed, some of the tension being released from his body as he finally gave you a gentle smile. “You’re right. Come on, sweetheart, we made breakfast.”

You bit your tongue, far too nervous to speak in fear of finding out just exactly what kind of punishments these two had in mind.

In some twisted and sick way, you were finally spending Christmas with someone after all of these years. You wished you could go back to being alone again, even being without your mother was better than this.

“Forgetting something, Hobi?” Yoongi reminded him as Hoseok stopped before he could enter the kitchen.

Hoseok eyed the ribbons bound around your wrists that were tied in a neat little bow, a look of anticipation lit up his features.

“Come here, sweetheart,” He called, beckoning you with his hand.

You stayed still, suddenly more willing to be around Yoongi than Hoseok. You looked at Hoseok in fear, your eyes darting between him and the familiar sight of the toxic mistletoe strung up above his head.

“I want to unwrap our pretty little present.”

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