#one sided anger management ship

[stars-obsession-pit]

A one-sided jazz x Jason or batkid idea

Okay before i get into my own thing, i wanna link this oneshot i found on AO3 which i think is rad

Growing up in Amity Park with mad scientists for parents had not engendered in Jazz a normal sense of danger. She was completely chill in situations that would make most others cower in fear. There’s a reason she was willing to live in as seedy a part of Gotham as she did instead of seeking out more expensive but theoretically safer student housing.

But even so, there were limits. And catching her neighbor climbing up the fire escape at night heavily armed and covered in blood and gore went way beyond them. She is not living next door to a serial killer! Especially considering the way she’d caught him staring at her recently…

Which brought her here, packing her bags as quickly as she could after watching him leave for… whatever it was that he did during the day. She was gonna call the cops on him (not that they were likely to actually do that much in Gotham) and then crash over at her friend’s place until her first chance to transfer colleges to somewhere else.

Then, turning to survey the apartment one last time, a thought struck her. A bit of blood stains and wreckage to make it look like she was kidnapped would hopefully prevent him from realizing she was onto him and coming after her for revenge. Plus, getting to work off some of her own anger by breaking things might be therapeutic.

…And so, when Jason returned to his apartment building later that afternoon, it was to see it surrounded by cop cars. Apparently, someone had kidnapped his neighbor Jazz and ransacked her apartment. And there were no leads except that in her call, she had mentioned seeing a blood-soaked figure enter the building a previous night.

He felt dread and rage boil in his gut. He’d never even noticed anyone watching them. Could they have been after him, and attacked her as collateral? He hadn’t even asked her out yet, but he had mentioned his crush around his minions before. If that was the reason, whoever had snitched would pay.

Or even if it was just a coincidence, he’d still make those responsible regret it.

It was time for Red Hood to start hunting once again.

[moonstruckme]

omg as a diabetic i've not really seen many fics about this but your fic was lovely!!! what about a diabetic read with the marauders )any ship or person) where they had a slightly nasty argument and she's not feeling well (sugar levels or whatever u decide) and she doesn't tell them because of the fight and comfort with sprinkles of angst ensue? it was just a thought, if you're up for it! <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: reader has diabetes, dizziness/lightheadedness, brief mention of blood, for anyone unfamiliar with diabetes the “meter” here refers to a blood glucose meter which reports blood sugar levels

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You seem to have inadvertently laid claim to the sitting room. Sirius stalked off into the kitchen and hasn’t come back, and Remus is down the hall avoiding the pair of you, as he’s taken to doing whenever you and Sirius argue. He might come talk sense into you if it were really serious, but Remus has had his own share of domestic squabbles with both of you; he leaves you to sort this one out by yourselves. 

A few minutes ago, through the smog of your anger, you recognized a feeling of wrongness. The timing is uncanny. Sirius had only just gone into the kitchen when you realized you needed to be there yourself. Now, even if you could brave the iciness of your boyfriend’s rancor, you don’t think you could stand to get what you need in front of him. 

The second you reach for one of your glucose-boosting shakes, Sirius will know your blood sugar is low, and then you’ll be a victim to him. 

Or not a victim, necessarily, but someone in need of care. Someone he has to look after, and who he can’t be angry at, and that’s not fair to him. Even if you do want to stop fighting, you don’t want to win that way. 

But a few more minutes of doing nothing and you aren’t sure you’ll be able to stand properly from this couch. 

Remus peeks into the living room. Finding only you, he comes over.

“Okay?” he asks quietly, sitting beside you. He means your argument; Remus is perceptive, but he’s not that good. 

“Yeah.” You loose a breath. “He’s so stubborn.” 

“So are you,” he says, not without fondness. 

“But I’m right.” 

Remus hums and kisses the side of your head. You try not to melt too obviously; your head is starting to ache from the drop in blood sugar, and you really are beginning to feel somewhat pitiful. “If I tell you something,” he murmurs, “you have to keep it a secret.” 

You look at him, intrigued. “What?” 

Remus’ lips give a slight tug. “I agree with you.” 

You grin, smug and extremely vindicated. Remus holds up a hand. 

“But,” he goes on, “I think you should apologize to him.” 

Just like that, your smile dissipates. Your headache feels like it’s getting worse. “Why?” 

The look Remus gives you is kind, but tinged with bemusement. “You were harsh with him, sweetheart. I understand being upset, but you didn’t need to lay into him the way you did. It was only a small thing.” He lowers his voice. “I think he might not have dug his heels in quite so deeply if you’d only asked him nicely.” 

You frown, guilt and irritation warring within you. “He’s always stubborn. It doesn’t matter what I say.” 

“It matters,” says Remus. “Listen, I can’t know for sure, but I think if you apologized to him, he’d apologize back. And maybe then you could find an agreement about the whole thing.” 

You sigh, letting your weight sag into Remus’ side. Your hands are starting to tremble in your lap. “I’d rather just tell him you think I’m right,” you say. 

You hear the smile in Remus’ voice as he kisses your head again. “I know.” 

You manage to stand without teetering. Remus waits in the sitting room while you go to the kitchen, where you find your boyfriend eating frosting broodily out of a tin. He spares you hardly a glance as you come in, sucking his spoon clean. 

“I didn’t mean to be harsh,” you say softly. 

Sirius scoffs. “Didn’t stop you.” 

“I didn’t realize I was being so harsh,” you amend. Even as you do, it’s hard to keep the bite from your tone. You know that you’re particularly irritable when your blood sugar is low; however, knowing that doesn’t actually make you feel any less irritated. “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius shakes his head. He’s still looking at the cabinets rather than at you. “Just because I don’t do things the way you want me to doesn’t make me completely incompetent.”

This apology might take longer than you bargained for. You set a hand on the counter as a wave of dizziness passes over you. Maybe you can drink your shake while apologizing? But Sirius is standing between you and the fridge. 

“I wasn’t trying to call you incompetent,” you say through the fog that’s descending over your consciousness. 

“That’s sure what it sounded like,” Sirius bites out. 

“Well, I don’t think you are. I just…I think I’m in a mood, and I’m saying things I don’t mean. I’m sorry.” 

It’s a rare enough admittance from you that Sirius looks over. One of his dark brows is half quirked, intrigue palpable. 

“Really?” he asks. 

“Really.” It feels like a weight off your shoulders; you think you physically slump. “I still think I’m right, but I shouldn’t have been so mean. Not,” you add, unable to help yourself, “that you were very nice to me either. But I started it.” 

A corner of Sirius’ mouth kicks up. “You did start it,” he agrees, softening. “I’m sorry, too. For not being very nice.” 

“It’s okay.” You try to smile back at him, eyeing the fridge. “Um, could I…I need the fridge.” 

He laughs, stepping aside. “Awe, that’s my darling girl. She’s feigned an apology because she wanted lunch.” 

“Ha ha,” you reply drolly. 

As you step around him, Sirius palms the back of your neck, pulling you in for a brief kiss. You wish you could appreciate it better. You’re starting to feel rather unsteady, your lips tingling without the warmth. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You open the fridge, pushing condiments aside and reaching towards the back. Sirius sets a hand to your lower back. 

“Baby. You’re sweating.” 

“I’m okay,” you tell him, closing the fridge. You see him register the bottle in your hand, and you try to affect an expression of insouciance as you screw off the cap. “Just a little low.” 

“You’re low? For how long?” Sirius is gripping you with both hands now, one on your waist and the other at your elbow. He seems afraid you’ll keel over; you wish it were a less founded fear. “What’s your blood sugar at?” 

“Not sure,” you admit quietly. Your meter is in here, too, just behind where Sirius is standing. You sip your shake, nearly draining the small bottle. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be good soon.” 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius’ brows bend, worry and bafflement warring in his expression. “Why didn’t you say?” 

“Because it’s fine.” You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I didn’t want us to stop fighting just because of that. You were angry with me for valid reasons.” 

“I’m still angry with you,” he says, making you look at him in surprise, “but now for completely different reasons. What were you thinking?”

His raised voice attracts Remus, come now to keep the peace. 

“It wasn’t a big problem,” you try to reassure Sirius. “I had it handled.” 

“Staying away from what you need just because I’m upset is not handling it, baby.” 

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, looking between the two of you bemusedly. It’s not like Sirius to use sweet names when he’s angry, or like you to be so defensive after you’ve agreed to patch things up. “Have you managed to start another row already?” 

“Her blood sugar is low, and she wasn’t going to do anything about it because she thought I was angry with her,” Sirius tells him.

“You were angry with me,” you say. 

Remus looks at you, his eyes skimming you over quickly. “How low?” he asks. 

Sirius crosses his arms. “She doesn’t know.” 

You let out a breath, starting to feel teary. Another argument, on top of your headache and dizziness and the general weariness of your physical form at the moment, is too much. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. “I knew I was low, I was already handling it.” 

“Of course it matters, lovely,” Remus replies, disappointment permeating the usual kindness in his tone. 

He finds your meter behind Sirius, opening your small kit and putting in a new test strip before taking out the lancet. You let him prick your finger, throwing your empty shake bottle in the trash. Your meter beeps when it gets the reading. 

“Oh,” Remus sighs. “Alright. That’ll come up now you’ve had your drink.” 

“I know it will,” you mutter. 

“Hey.” Sirius all but traps you in a hug, his arms pushing underneath yours and squeezing you harshly. “Don’t do that. Okay? Please.” 

You feel yourself soften. One of your hands comes up to stroke the ends of his hair where it falls between his shoulder blades. “You don’t need to worry,” you say. 

“Oh, piss off. Try and stop me.” 

“I saw you shaking,” Remus admits, his voice soft. You look at him, surprised, but he meets your guilty expression with a half smile. “I only thought it was because you were upset. It’s an odd thing to keep secret from us, isn’t it?” 

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret.” You tuck your chin into Sirius’ shoulder. He gives your back a couple of firm rubs before pulling away. “I just didn’t want you to feel like…like you needed to look after me.” 

“Too bad,” Sirius says, stubbornly. “We’re going to look after you anyways. Shocked you wouldn’t know that already.” 

Remus smiles, setting a hand to your back and rubbing between your shoulder blades. “He’s right,” he says. “No matter who’s upset, please don’t hide these things from us. It’s important that we know.” 

“Okay,” you mumble, chastised. “Sorry.” 

Sirius raises his eyebrows. “Two apologies in one afternoon. Christ, you really must be feeling poorly.” 

Remus chuckles. “Should we sit for a while? Give you time to come up.” 

“Sure.” That sounds amazing, actually. Even with the glucose working its way into your system, you’re still finding it difficult to stay on your feet. You start back towards the sitting room. “Thanks.” 

“Oh, my poor baby.” Sirius wraps his arms around you from behind, forcing you to take small steps to accommodate him. “You’re still shaking, sweet girl.” 

“This,” you say, “is exactly what I didn’t want.” 

Sirius laughs. He lets you go so you can sit before flopping down beside you, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Maybe next time,” he suggests, “you can be honest with us from the beginning, and I’ll let you be a bit choosier about what reaction you get.”

[yeyinde]

the therapist x Price ask has me thinking terrible things. but what if instead of helping him with anger management, you're his marriage counsellor.

With your colleague's early retirement on the horizon, you take over several of his files, and among them is Mr and Mrs Price. A marriage on the brink of collapse, he writes, but both are willing to work things out.

As if.

You're not one to pick sides—it's morally, professionally, and ethically wrong—but you really wish Mrs Price had better friends. Or someone in her life to pull her aside and tell her to run because as much as she seems to want to work at these issues that plague her marriage, it takes you only a handful of sessions to realise this is impossible.

And the reason is just—

John Price.

Unprofessional? Yes. Wrong? No.

Your colleague's notes about Mr Price being the driving force behind keeping the marriage intact seem almost farcical looking back because that seems to be the very last thing on his mind.

He goes into each session with the single-minded goal to tear through any progress made—and that's only when he shows up. And in this particular profession, you're used to combativeness. The guarded nature of people is a hurdle you can often overcome with logic and solutions to their problems, but Mr Price's walls have walls. His armour is thick, and impenetrable, and he's—at best—unwilling to participate in any meaningful way.

And at worst—he spends most of the session arguing with you. Needling over everything you say. Ignoring any attempts to steer the conversation back to the idea of salvaging his marriage in favour of riling you up. Disrupting the natural order of accountability and progress just to see you flustered. Asking personal questions. Coming in earlier just to nitpick your talking points. Letting his wife leave before he does, and using the time to go over his startling accolades like the thought of chasing her, taking her to dinner, didn't even cross his mind. A man with one foot out the door, and almost no interest in turning around.

He's bullish. Compromising. Stubborn—

"—and a pigheaded oaf of a man!" You seethe, ethics fleeing from the room as you dig yourself a spot on your boss's couch, and take hearty gulps of the Chardonnay he offered with a grim twist to his lips. "Every time we get close to the truth, to a breakthrough, he jumps ship! Pulls away! But then has the audacity to question me because his wife isn't changing her mind on the divorce? In what goddamn universe is this my fault?"

He clears his throat, looking more than a little bemused. "Uhh. Have you tried—"

"Talking to him one-on-one in a confrontation-free way to try and get him to open up? Yes! And he spent the whole session avoiding the issue and making redundant comments about me, my life! What do my future plans have to do with his marriage? My relationship status! If I want kids! It's absurd!"

"Interesting. And have you considered—"

"All of it! There's no getting through to him. I don't even think he really wants this marriage to work out which is so different from what the counsellor they had before told me. He was trying back then. Said he'd let her divorce him over his dead body, and now? Two decades down the drain. I just don't get it."

"Well." His brow lifts, and he seems almost worried for a second before he scoffs. Shakes his head. "I think I do. Good luck, hon. He seems like the sort of man who knows exactly what he wants."

It takes all of your willpower not to reach out and grab the whole bottle from the table. Professional, you think. And that's what John called you, isn't it? Well—

Smart little girl, aren't you? Is what he growled out, arms folded over his chest as you—indiscreetly—ushered him towards the door. "But you don't know what you're doing, love. Gonna get yourself in over your head—"

The little girl prickles over your nerves. There's something about him that makes you want to lash out.

"I can handle myself, John."

He leaned down, shoulders tense. Eyes blazing. This man, you realise, is all fire. All heat. You fight back a shiver, meeting his stare head-on.

"Oh, I hope you can."

A challenge, right? Maybe he's another misogynist in a choking, crowded sea too blinded by his own ego to admit that maybe you could help him if he let you. Pretentious, self-righteous prick—

It really doesn't surprise you when the dissolution of his marriage happens a week later. Irreconcilable differences. Go figure. But what does surprise you is finding John Price standing outside your office only several days after the contractual obligations you had with them end.

The sight of him, stripped of any professional distance, makes you tense. "If you're here to complain, you'll need to file a—"

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. The signs were there from the onset. Mrs Price's frigid anger at the end, and John's interest in you beyond the therapist. But when he pushes you against the door of your office, pulling you into a searing, demanding kiss that siphons the air from your lungs, all you can think is huh? and when did this—?

He doesn't really give you much of a chance to say any of that, though. Just devours you whole like he's been waiting his entire life for this moment, hands biting into your flesh, gripping tight. Refusing to let go even for a second. Even to let you breathe. Just grunts into the lax seam of your mouth about how much a goddamn little tease you are, tempting him like that when he was still a married man.

"But you can handle me, can't you, sweetheart?" He rumbles, fingers rasping over the skin of your nape. "Said so yourself, didn't you? Actin' all naughty even when you were pantin' at me like a bitch in heat. But don't worry, I'll make an honest woman outta you yet."

"Um—"

(maybe you were, in fact, a little over your head with John Price.)

[willowsnook]

Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Ultimate Decision - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 2.2k+

Summary: 

"I can't feel my legs Hop right on the ledge, jump right off the edge"

Alternatively, 

Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.

Warnings: so much angst, reader's inner turmoil, unplanned pregnancy, yoongi is making things worse, Hoseok is the doctor but he is not to be shipped with the reader here, he is a catalyst though, pining, so much pining.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

A/N: The next chapter from the present timeline.

Taglist requests are closed for now

Read the next chapter

You fumble with your phone, scrolling down numbers after numbers but can’t find a single contact you can call at a time like this. 

The pregnancy testing kit lies on your left hand as if it has been tattooed on your skin. For some reason, you don’t feel dread creeping up through the path of your neck. 

Should you cry? Should you call Yoongi and curse him to your heart’s content? Should you ask him to take the responsibility when he is about to start living his old happy life again? 

Probably you should. 

But the thing is… you can’t bring yourself to do any of those. 

You don’t even know what you should feel or what you need to feel at a moment like this. 

You don’t even have any idea of what’s going to be your next move. 

Will you keep the baby? Or will you choose to abort it? 

But before everything, you should consult with someone, who is wiser than you. 

Your fingers hover above your mother’s contact ID, even though you know your calls are going to go unnoticed, unanswered, ignored as if you never came out of her womb. 

And things will turn even uglier if she answers your call and you manage to tell her what you have done to yourself, more or less willingly. 

So you let your phone fall limp on your lap. 

How funny - you have absolutely no one to confide in. no family, no friends, no one. 

As soon as the realization hits, your eyes start turning blurry. 

Tear drops escape one by one, dampening your cheeks, throat, collarbones. You caress your stomach. 

“What do I do now?” the mumble comes out choked. And then you are thinking of him again. 

How he cried in his sleep the first time you brought him here with you. How he repeated his actions again during his last visit here. 

Both of the time you stood on the sidelines, the center of his universe has always been Gyuri. 

In the end, though, you have been the one affected - with blooming warmth in your chest and in turn a presence of life in your womb. 

As you think of Yoongi, your mind runs back to the man who had helped you in picking him up from the streets. 

You still remember, his card said he was an obgyn. 

Your tears cease. 

Yes. As much as you need a friend or family right now, you need an expert too. 

Standing abruptly from your bed, you run toward the other side of it, reaching out for the night stand, where you had kept the man’s card more than a year ago. 

You don’t have to struggle much to find out the card, it’s there as if it has been waiting to be found all these times. 

Holding the card in your hand, opens the flood gate of fresh memory of that night, of Yoongi’s dirty face, vomit all over his clothes and him holding you tightly in his sleep. 

That was the first and last time. 

He never held you for a second time, unless you were having sex. 

Pushing down the depressing thoughts, you grab your phone and with swift fingers dial the number of the man - Jung Hoseok. 

The clock reads 9 pm on a Wednesday night. And you pray, this is not past his business hours, he has no such mentions in the card as well. 

The universe seems to grant your prayer this time, probably out of sheer pity, as the man accepts the call on the fourth ring. 

“Hello, It’s Dr. Jung Hoseok, how can I help you?” The man speaks with a professional tone that sets you on an unexplainable ease. 

“Hi, uh, I am sorry to call you like this but I had managed to get my hands on your card and I think I need your help. I, um, I’m pregnant. And I think I need an appointment.” your hands start sweating now when you realize all of it is real. You are pregnant with the baby of a man who doesn’t love you. 

Pathetic. 

“How many weeks are you?” the man asks with the same professional pronunciation. 

“I don’t know. I just found out a few minutes ago. This is my first time and I don’t know what to do.” you speak honestly. 

These are the same words you want to confess to a friend, to your mother as well and most importantly to Yoongi. But talking to a stranger, about how helpless you are, is much less nerve-wracking. 

“You are not a teenager, are you?” he speaks, suspicion laced in his voice. 

A sudden chuckle leaves your throat, “I’m twenty seven.” 

The other side of the line only hums and then after a beat he says, “we usually don’t accept appointments made via phone calls but I can guide you on how to book one. If that’s okay with you?” 

“Anything is okay with me.” 

And you are not lying. At this hour, alone in your apartment, robbed off options, in the lack of a confidant - any assistance is okay with you. 

Any assistance is fine if that means you will be able to figure out what you are going to do with a baby in your womb, gifted by the man whom you let destroy yourself for the sake of love. 

The appointment is due at 3 in the afternoon and right now the clock is at 1:26. 

The hospital is an hour's drive away, hence, if you leave now, you will still have a 30 minutes on your hand. 

But the problem is that you didn’t inform anyone formally about this secretive appointment. Applying an official leave would raise questions about the nature and reason of the appointment and you don’t want that. 

You want to protect this truth with every drop of blood your body owns. 

So, you decide to quickly drop by Namjoon's office and tell him you need the rest of the day off for some emergency. 

For a matter you know Namjoon is not privy enough to inquire about the so-called emergency. 

Much to your dismay, your plans shatter like a porcelain vase as soon as you open the door of Namjoon’s office. Because one, there is no Namjoon, two, there is Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s expression mimics yours as he takes you in, standing there, staring at him as if he didn’t fuck you raw and left you with consequences just a month ago. 

But then again… a month of radio silence, a month of stolen glances, a month of no skin contact, a month of no Min Yoongi was more painful than you’d dare to admit. 

Your heart thumps inside your chest as you realize, you are standing in front of the man whose baby is currently in your womb. 

You are carrying a baby! And that’s Min Yoongi’s! Screams your mind at the loudest possible volume. 

But still, by some miraculous strength, you manage to smile at him.

A casual, nonchalant smile as you are used to. 

Except this time, Yoongi doesn’t smile back. 

He looks at you with eyes so deep that you fear you will succumb to them yet again if you stay here for a moment longer. 

“Where’s Namjoon?” you get straight to the point, without wasting your time in any greeting. 

“Y/N. Wait.” but you have always been weak to the way Yoongi calls your name. This time, you are hearing it after what feels like an eternity. 

“He went out to escort a guest.” Yoongi says, flatly, his tone devoid of any emotions. It’s tough to believe he cried in your arms a month ago.

“Oh. Then can you please let him know that I have an emergency and I have left for the day? Thank you.” you don’t wait for his reply as you start turning your heels to run away already. 

His voice works like glue and stops you in your tracks. You are now unable to move. A cold, calloused palm comes in contact with your upper arm, forcing you to face the man. 

When you face him, you see his face and expression has softened. The stoic expression is now gone and you are afraid of what to make out of it. 

This is not pity, is it? 

“How are you? It’s been so long- I wanted to see you but-” 

“But there is no reason to do so, right?” you finish his sentence for him, “I am fine, Yoongi. How are you? How’s Gyuri?” 

“All good.” he ignores the mention of the woman, "What's the emergency? Are you alright?” He places the back of his palm on your forehead, checking your body temperature. 

Your eyes fill to the brim. You need to leave right now or you will start crying. 

“I- I’m fine.” you lie, removing his hand from your skin, “it’s just something personal.” 

Yoongi frowns at that “oh. You can tell me. If you need any he-” 

“I can take care of it myself, Yoongi. You have a life to lead, you have better days ahead now, why would you even care about me? I was just a fleeting chapter anyway. Please- please don’t act like our time together meant anything to you. Please, I beg.” try as you might, you couldn’t contain it anymore. 

Just like you, Yoongi, too, is taken aback with your outburst. Though his eyes are kind, if you dare to add, then those might as well be in pain. 

But his next words only break you further, “wasn’t it a given? A silent agreement that our time together wouldn’t mean much to any of us?” 

Is he challenging you? Trying to elicit a further reaction? Is it a knife to dig more in your fresh wounds? 

If yes, then you will do everything to disappoint him. 

You nod, “Yeah. You are right. Forget I have said anything. Bye.” 

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something but you are faster than his words. Before he manages to say a word, you are out of the door and shutting it on his face. 

He is cruel. 

He has always been. 

But you still love him. 

You have always had. 

The fact that Yoongi can be a little heartless has never been a shock to you. 

Nevertheless, it didn’t harm you any less when he let those careless words out of his mouth. Then again, you can not even blame him because you had been the one to place your heart in his hands and asked him to play with it. 

In the end, it’s your fault. 

And you are already paying the price in more ways than one. 

“Miss Y/N?” a nurse calls your name, pulling you out of your miserable thoughts, “you can go in now.” 

With a bow and a forced smile you leave the waiting area and enter the OPD room. 

A man is sitting at the desk, with his scrubs and white coat on, the nameplate on the table says he is the one who helped you out that night. He is Jung Hoseok. 

You failed to look at his face that night, being too busy with tending Yoongi. But now that you are looking at him, he seems to be the embodiment of everything that’s positive, light, bright - much unlike you (or Yoongi for that matter). 

His eyes light up as he takes you in, with a big smile he says, “oh? You are Miss Y/N? I remember you clearly. Please take the seat.” 

You wonder how it's even possible to recall you after seeing you once, that too a year ago, “You do?” 

“Yes. I still remember that night and your friend.” He mentions Yoongi.

If he sees the man’s mention dims you even further then he doesn’t say anything but he chooses to change the topic right away, “have you filled the form?” 

“Yes.” you hand him the piece of paper. 

He goes through it all at once, probably having everything memorized, but his eyes get stuck at one point. And you have an idea what it can be. 

“As I can see, you have not added anyone as your closest contact?” he says with a careful tone.

“Yes.” you reply briefly. 

“You need to add one person at least, maybe a friend, or a family, or the father of the baby.” he suggests. 

“I- No one knows about this just yet. I don’t have any immediate friend or family who could help me out.” your hands are now shaking. 

“Sorry to pry, but what about the father of the baby?” Jung Hoseok leans a little further on the table, as if trying to measure your facial expressions. 

“He is unaware of the situation.” 

“Are you sure you want the baby?” he voices in the softest possible tone anyone has ever used against you. 

“Yes. I want to keep the baby.” and that’s it. If the baby is one last proof of what Yoongi had with you for no less than a year, if the baby is a proof that Yoongi had once held you, cried in your arms, dipped inside you to forget his own complications, then you want to keep it. 

And this will be your ultimate decision no matter what anyone else says. 

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[incorporeal-entity]

Here is why You should ship Vigilance x Diamond (Diamance)

(art by @aeg3an + permission to use)

1. Toxic Yuri

These two are at war with each other so naturally they hate each other but both are drawn to each other since they both know the stresses of being a queen. This is what drew them together plus the begrudging respect on how both of them are able to one up each other in war. When one side gains the upper hand the other comes up with a strategy to turn the tides back in their favor. This builds respect but also anger and resentment since they are losing dragons.

2. The Drama

Since they are at war with each other how will they grapple with the fact they have feelings for their enemy? They would have to keep their feelings a secret between them or else a massive Royal scandal will occur. They will kill any dragon including advisors if they even think they are starting to grow suspicious. So they send letters mad at the loss of advisors or dragons fallen in war and how their army will reach their kingdom and tear it down but beneath the anger is a sense of longing and how they will be the one to deal the final blow to other and how the winner will hold the loser and look them in the eyes as the life fades form their eyes.

3. How will it end?

How will they end up? Will one finally manage to kill the other leaving nothing behind a feeling of triumph overshadowed by loss and longing? Will they both kill each other in battle with both of them finally being able to embrace each other as their lives come to an end? Will it be an enemies to lovers story to do what Arctic and Foeslayer couldn't? Or will it end like it did in canon the Nighwings leaving and both Queens feeling and immense longing and rage at the fact they weren't able to finish the job? Idk and honestly that is up to you to explore.

In conclusion

The sheer amount of potential this ship has is massive in the ways how the characters will react to their feelings, how they express them or if they try to hide it how their facade falters, and how their story will end. The possibilities and scenarios these ships have is immense and it's why you should ship Diamond x Vigilance.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: Ingrid just doesn't understand you

Mapi had never met you before.

She's met the rest of the Engen family. She's met the family pets. But you'd never been around she visited with Ingrid, like your family had put you as far away as possible when she met them.

Like you were something to be ashamed of.

It's a bit of a bad first impression to make when you're shipped from your boarding school, back home and then straight over to Spain to live with her and Ingrid.

She doesn't even get to introduce herself before Ingrid's laying into you.

"Again?" She demands as soon as you're safely in the back seat of the car," Expelled...again?"

"It's not a big deal," You mutter, slouching in your seat and pulling your hood over your head.

"Not a big deal...Not a big deal?! You've been kicked out of school! You've been kicked out of the house! Oh, but it's not a big deal?!"

Mapi's never seen Ingrid so angry before but you're taking it like a champ, looking out the window and generally ignoring your sister even as she snaps at you.

"Are you done?" You ask in the most bored tone you can manage.

Ingrid takes a breath. "Ye-" She catches sight of you in the rear view mirror and whips around to face you. "Is that a hickey?!"

"Do we have to do this?" You groan," You ask me if I've got a hickey. I give you an answer you don't like. You yell. Can we just skip to the bit after you scold me?"

Ingrid's practically bubbling in rage sitting in the passenger seat and Mapi's left scrambling trying to diffuse the tension.

"So..." She says eventually," You like football?" It's a weak redirection but it gets an amused scoff out of Ingrid as she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not into exercising willingly," Is your answer," It's alright from a distance. Even better when a girl's doing it."

Ingrid groans louder now and swats at your knees but it's teasing and it's like all of her anger from earlier has melted away. "Don't," She says warningly though a hint of amusement is still present in her voice," There'll be none of that here. You're here to focus and to study and to better your grades."

You send her a lopsided smile. "How am I supposed to improve perfection?"

It's that evening after you've retreated to your room that Ingrid is left in a slump over your grades and your truancy records.

"I don't get it," She says to Mapi," She misses almost every class but she has perfect marks. It's like she doesn't even have to try."

Mapi shrugs. "Maybe she doesn't," Is her response," Some people just get school better than others. To be honest, if it's this easy then that's probably why she never turns up."

"And the hickies?"

"She's hormonal?" Mapi doesn't really have an answer to that as she's handed your transcript.

"And this?"

Ingrid slides Mapi a picture. It's of one of this out buildings that every school has that they swear is temporary but never go unused.

"That's..."

Mapi stares at the side of the building. She stares at the colours on the wall, at the way they weave expertly in and out of each other. She stares at the shading and the light.

"I know," Ingrid says, her face all scrunched up and Mapi gets the idea that they're not on the same page.

"It's brilliant."

"It's disrespectful."

They both spoke at the same time. They exchange a confused look with each other before turning their gazes back to study the picture.

It's clearly spray paint, the mural that you've done on the side of one of your school buildings. Usually, Mapi would see tags on railway lines out of spray paint. But, somehow, your mural is hyper realistic (Mapi would even go so far as to say photorealistic).

It's...Well Mapi doesn't quite have the words to explain it.

"I'd love to see what she could do with a pencil."

"Mapi!" Ingrid hisses," Don't encourage her!"

"No, no," Mapi backtracks quickly," I get it, totally. She shouldn't have done it there. It's wrong and it's bad but Ingrid! Look at it! People dream of having talent like that!"

For the entire night and the coming days after, Mapi thinks about the mural you did it on your school.

She ends up asking Ingrid for your Instagram during the lunch break at training. Ingrid gives it to her with a confused look.

"If you're going to use it to try and work out where this behaviour is coming from, it's useless," Ingrid says with a defeated sigh," I've already gone through it all."

That wasn't what Mapi was planning to do at all so she just offers Ingrid a little smile and a promise to see what she could find. To her disappointment, no more of your artwork has been posted on your main account.

She scrolls through your following list, all the way to the bottom, to find an account that she's positive is your secret one. Its username is a bunch of random letters followed by dot-art and its profile picture is the mural on the side of your school building.

Mapi feels like she's hit the jackpot as she scrolls through it (feeling pleased with herself when she notices a bunch of your school friends follow this account too so it must be you). You've got hundreds of posts up, detailing murals you've done around your hometown and your school. There's a few still life drawings and a huge oil paint piece on a massive canvas. There's an image of a drawing that's clearly done in pen on someone's arm.

It's photorealistic just like your spray paint piece and, if you were older, Mapi would probably beg you to be her tattoo artist.

When she and Ingrid get back to the house, you're napping at the kitchen table.

Ingrid swears under her breath, rousing you from your sleep. "I told you to do your school work," She says.

You shrug. "I did." You shove your notepad towards her. "It's not my fault that it's not difficult."

"You've done the bare minimum."

You shrug. "I'm not into doing more than I have to."

The tension in the air is practically electric as you both stare each other down.

"Lose the attitude," Ingrid says," I'm trying to help you here. Mum and Dad won't let you back home until you clean your act up."

You mutter something under your breath and Ingrid goes rigid.

"Don't say that!" She snaps," They want what's best for you! We want what's best for you!"

"They want what's best for them!" You snap back. In the few weeks that Mapi's known you, you're the most laidback teenager she's ever met. You've never once really bit back at Ingrid, no matter how hard she pushed you.

Ingrid's tough love had seemed to be working. You napped regularly, yes, but you got all of your schoolwork done. You don't come home with hickeys and no strange murals have appeared in Barcelona by your hands.

She must have hit a sore spot for you.

"You're smart," Ingrid says," You're so smart and I don't understand why you don't apply yourself more! If you worked properly, you could graduate early and be at university already!"

"There's nothing at university that interests me," You mutter," It's a waste of time."

"It's not a waste of time!" Ingrid retorts," What are you going to do when you finish school, huh? Do you even have a plan?!"

Mapi sees your eyes dart to where your sketchpad sits a few feet away. She can see the cogs turning in your head.

You stay silent.

Ingrid sighs, hands clenched into two shaking fists. "I love you," She says," But you need to get yourself together." She shoves your papers right back at you.

"I've already finished it!"

"You've done the bare minimum." She swipes your sketchbook off of the table. "Sit down. Do it properly."

"Give it back!"

Ingrid's tall and, even though she's your sister, she's still tall enough to hold your book over her head so you can't reach it. "You get it back when you do your work properly."

"Give it!"

"No!"

"Ingrid, hand it over!"

"Do your work!"

"Urgh! I hate you!"

"Well, too bad. Because I love you!"

You slump into the seat with a scream that makes Mapi's ears ring a bit but you grab your pen and start on your schoolwork again.

"Come on," Mapi says softly, drawing Ingrid into their bedroom and shutting the door.

Ingrid throws your sketchbook onto the bed and paces, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"What-What did she say?" Mapi asks, her mind playing that moment when Ingrid went stiff over and over again.

"She said that she wished Mum and Dad got rid of her when they had the chance...you know...when she was..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Ingrid groans. "I-I just don't understand her! She's so smart! She has her pick of everywhere! Mum and Dad can get her into medical school! It's like she has no ambition!"

Mapi types into her phone. "Have you considered that, maybe, going to medical school and university isn't exactly for her? I mean, you went straight into football."

Ingrid sighs, the tension draining somewhat from her body. "Mapi...It's different. I had a passion for football even when I was younger. I practiced every day. I knew what I wanted."

"She practices something every day," Mapi replies," And she's so good at it. Honestly, Ingrid, it's a little annoying that you and your family haven't noticed."

She turns her phone around, to a post on your secret Instagram account. It's tagged as a city a few hours away from your old boarding school.

On the side of a crumbling house is a spray paint mural of Norway's women's team. It's got everyone on it, photorealistic like all of your other murals. Ingrid's in the middle though, beaming a smile that you can see reaches her eyes.

"What?" The real Ingrid asks, brow furrowed.

"Your sister did that," Mapi says," She's done a lot of them." She grabs your sketchbook and flicks though it. You'd shown her all of your pieces a few days ago when she asked to see them. "Ingrid, she's so good."

Ingrid flips through your book. There's pencil drawings in there. There's watercolour and acrylic and oil. There's a pastel study of your cat back home and an inked version of Bagheera. There's a stunning piece in charcoal of you and Ingrid when you were younger.

Her fingers hover over your squishy baby cheeks, like she could reach into the picture and touch them.

The next few pages have pictures of your own arm with tattoo designs wrapping around them.

"Ingrid, she's so talented," Mapi says," And, yeah, maybe she shouldn't skip class or leave her work to the last minute but she's found something she's passionate about and loves. How would you feel if your parents didn't support you in your football and made you go to medical school?"

Ingrid wipes the tears out of her eyes when she flicks to the last picture you've drawn. It was from last week, when she rewarded you for doing all your work before the weekend with ice cream. You had taken a picture with Mapi and Ingrid, tongue poking out and cheeks pressed together.

You've replicated it perfectly on the page and scrawled a little heart at the bottom along with your signature.

"Jona...Jona said they're looking for someone to do a mural on the back wall of the Johan Cruyff," She says eventually, flipping the book closed," We...Er...We..."

"I'll call Jona," Mapi assures her," Go and save your sister from work she's already finished."

Like Mapi said, you've already finished all of your work and you're sitting stubbornly at the kitchen table, rolling a piece of lint between your fingers.

You're taken completely off guard when Ingrid pulls you in for a hug. Usually, it takes an hour or two for her to calm down after yelling at you.

"I love you," She says as she pulls away, cradling your face as tears run down her face," I love you so much."

"Ingrid? What's going on?"

"I love you," She says," And I want what's best for you. If you promise me that you'll try just a bit harder in school then I swear, I'll make everything better."

"Seriously, you're freaking me out here. What's going on?"

Map appears over Ingrid's shoulder with a dopey smile. "You should thank your sister. She's just sorted you out with a job."

"A job? Ingrid, no offence, but you don't even like me out of your sight. I can barely get by in Spanish. You want me to get a job too?"

"The Estadi Johan Cruyff needs a mural done-"

"Several murals," Mapi cuts in.

"-And you're doing them."

You blink in shock before a grin splits your face wide open. "Seriously? Are you joking?"

"Keep trying hard," Ingrid says," And I'm sure me and Mapi can sort you out with so much more."

[writingescapades]

Jealous Rafayel

A/N: This started as jealously headcanons than became something else, lol.

Has two sides. The immediate more obvious, dramatic reaction is the one you are most used do. More like, it’s what you see on an almost daily basis. Rafayel basks in your attention. It’s like seeing the sun on a cloudy day, or feeling it’s warmth as a ship comes close to shore. One always notices the presence and loss of the sun, and Rafayel finds himself in continuous orbit around you.

There is also desperation painfully laced in this response. A question wondering how much time does he have left in this life? When would he see you next? These are questions that hang over his head and subject him to the agony of being a powerless god. So forgive him for his numerous gimmicks to veer your attention towards him. It not about knowing one another. It on creating those moments where it just feels like only the 2 of you exist in the world, like you’re the only 2 stars in the sky, because one day, there will be only one star. And he doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want to bear your loss anymore. So he clings on, each time reminding himself that you’re still here.

He's not particular on whether it’s your work or another person who is taking your time. They’re all evil demons that have him dramatically flailing because woe betide the young man who suffers the loss of love. If your try to console him, he’ll playfully scoff and shove you off claiming to not be second choice. If you cater to him, he’ll sigh and supposes he’ll accept your love. If you shrug and walk away, he’s chasing after you. It’s one thing to be jealous. It’s another to be alone in your jealousy.

But it’s all fun and games. His words are all bluffs intended to capture your attention on any excuse. Afterall, who wouldn’t want to hold onto the sun after lifetimes of darkness? But when you allow your priorities to consume you. When the time away from him is more than the time spent with him, that’s when Rafayel’s true jealousy comes out. Despite his temperament, Rafayel’s negative emotions do not flare out as easily as his positive emotions. Sarcasm and wit are as far as he gets, and even then, he keeps a light tone. Negative emotions coils around him, slowly, slowly twisting until it seeps out.

His voice cuts you like an ice shard. This time, he looks right at you, eyes so dark you cannot find their original colour. He uses everything at his disposal to his advantage. Leaning over you, he speaks in a sharp quiet voice. He’s direct in his accusations and tells you upfront that he doesn’t like what’s happening. Despite his anger and demeanour, deep down Rafayel is worried. He doesn’t trust easily, especially not humans, and though he knows not to treat you the same as other humans, he can’t help but notice patterns. When those patterns appear to be heading down paths he’s traversed too many times, he panics. He should trust you. Why did he trust you? He knows you won’t hurt him. But too many humans have said the same and done worse. You love him. Love is a dangerous word in the human realm. Such conflicting thoughts run amok in his head as he listens to you.

The truth is, Rafayel doesn’t really know what sort of life he wants with you. You both never made it far enough to even think about that. And now, when it finally seems like the universe is giving you both a chance, to see if being ripped apart because of your own priorities frustrates him. A part of him doesn’t want you or this human life. He wants Lemuria and Lemurians. Yet the moment that thought runs through his head, he laughs bitterly to himself because he knows that even if he’d manage to achieve that, he’d still not be satisfied. What was the point of such an accomplishment if there was no sun to bless them?

When Rafayel truly gets jealous it’s a reality check for both of you. For him it’s a reminder that you both made it this far. The path ahead has not been carved yet, there is still a chance. That he should still hope and fight because after centuries. Being with you feels is comforting, familiar, like wearing a glove. You both just slip back in each other’s lives as if you’ve never been apart. But what really shakes him is how accustomed he’d become to your loss. He’s spent too many years without you than with you. And he doesn’t know if he should let your in or let you go.

But when you talk to him. When you hold his face and call his name, he realizes that you are currently here, beside him, willingly. That you won’t abandon him. And while trusting you is still too hard for Rafayel, he knows that you are willing to protect whatever he does trust you with. So he apologizes, immediately, mumbling half-coherent reasons into your shoulder. He’s emotionally drained and just wants to be near you. He would prefer taking a nap, but is also okay doing something together or separately, just so long as he can feel you beside him.

[kaivenom]

Hii :), how are you? Can i request a sfw headcanons for shanks, crocodile and mihawk with a so with a bad period and bad personality during it? (sorry for my english)

The One Piece men DILFs reader with their bad period cramps and an awful personality HCS

Characters: Mihawk, Crocodile and Shanks

A/N: i am good and i hope you are too.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He assumes you need space so he gives you that.

But the thing is that you want him to be on your side, you want him to baby you.

So, with your bad cramps and your bad mood, you managed to get Up and go to the kitchen, your anger being stronger than the pain.

"Stupid swordsman good for nothing, i am bleeding and feeling like dying and you are here reading a book." He got really surprised and even a little scared.

"I thought that because that are women things you would be too embarrased to share It and i am sure i would be interrupting your process." He tried to excuse himself.

"What, i am your woman, the least i want from you in this situation IS some type of lovely words, but i got nothing and i really need that."

"I see your point."

You were really frustated and your knees were starting to feel weak so you head back to bed.

Half hour later a knock on your door made you open your eyes a little. It was Mihawk with some drinks and something that looked like a hot bag.

He sat next to you and kissed your forehead carefully. He took cup of water and put some medicine on It.

"I am sorry my love, i thought you need space but know that i saw my mistake, i learned for the next times. I have medicine, sweats, drinks and this Hot thing" you looked at him curious. "I had to call Perona and she told me and that maybe a feet massage can give you a better mood"

You poked his nose, still a little angry from before and the kissed his cheek to lay on bed, ready for his treatment.

Which included kisses, massages, treats, words of reinforcement and guilt from his side.

Sr. Crocodile

He buys you everything you want, but due to the situation of the moment, you wouldnt be able to wish anything more that stop the pain.

He didn't catch It at first, he thought that with the most expensive pill and the special drinks from his rich doctor you would be good and end of subject.

But you were also in a bad mood cause you wanted him to care a little more.

When he asked some of his female co-workers to go and see how you were going, he overhead something.

"That crackhead hook guy, how can he think that only with pills i feel better?, i do but he is my partner, i want him to really care."

Then he asked the coworker about these things and came with a plan.

"Get Up woman."

"Another pill?"

"No, a new treatment."

He guided you to the bathroom to realize that a hot bubble bath was running, chocolate, candles.

"You heard."

"Of course i heard, you were yelling... And of course i care about you, nobody else stays Alive after telling those things about me."

You laughed and goth into the wáter, waiting for him to join.

Akagami Shanks

Even with the pain you wanted to be of worth for the crew, being a woman in an all men ship makes you have to gain your place.

So, you didn't told Shanks but the signs were there: small faints, weak knees, really bad face, yelling at everyone, mood changes...

"Really, Who was the idiota that put the rope here, i almost tripped, if i catch him i Will break his legs and then i Will..." And you started to cry.

That moment your behaviour was too extreme to the crew, so Shanks asked you and you coudlnt hide It more.

He obliged you to go to bed and you thought that you would be alone and in pain plus that the crew now sees you as weak, but Shanks followed you and got in bed by your side.

"You are the stupid one, i saw you almost faint a couple of times but i thought you were sick or tired but this... If this happens to you every month and you know when It happens why would you put that much weight on your shoulders?"

"Dont call me stupid, stupid, i dont want to be a burden to you guys." You really wanted to cry.

"You are not a burden, you are my woman and if you are bad cause of this then you Will rest and i prefer this than a weapon wound."

"I am still bleeding"you said while giving him a small kick.

He got Up and you thought that he was mad at you, but he just put his head out of the door and gave the boys some orders to give you things and space.

He asked you if you needed something more and just laid there in bed with you, even when you told him he was smelling like sweats too much.

[dracowars]

of kings and queens | halbrand

pairing: halbrand x númenorean!princess!reader

word count: 6,6k

summary: where halbrand and y/n are forced to marry and he unveils a world she's only ever dreamed of

a/n: how do i manage to make it longer every time you ask?? i have no idea, i just go with the flow & suddenly i'm at 6k~ i have been struggeling with this one but i'm proud of how it ultimately turned out!! feedback is always appreciated and thank you for all the love <3

warnings: angst, forced marriage, panic attack, mentions of sickness, soft sauron

universe: the rings of power

"I won't marry a stranger!", you loudly cry out in anger and slam your fists on the table with all your might, the sheer force of it causing some of the parchments to fall to the marble floor.

"He is no stranger. He is the King of the Southlands", your sister, Queen-Regent Míriel, tells you matter-of-factly.

"Who told you that? The elf?", you spit out, the blood running through your veins seething with anger. "Just a few days have gone by since he was detained in one of our cells, and now he is being hailed as a long-lost king? Do you even listen to yourself?"

"Sister-"

"Don't 'sister' me right now."

Míriel takes a deep breath, resting her weight on the table with both arms, and lowers her head as if she needs a moment to avoid lashing out on you in the same manner you are currently displaying.

"Listen. A marriage like this would rekindle and strengthen the bond between the people of Middle-earth and our kind for generations to come", she explains, her voice calm, but you know her well enough to notice that she has to pull herself together.

"Very well, go ahead and marry him then", you counter and give her a challenging look, the one you have been giving her since you were children. "Why should I be the one to suffer?"

"As the Princess of Númenor, it is your duty to prioritize the welfare of your people over your own!", she yells at you now, her nostrils flaring. You'd be lying if you said you didn't flinch a little when she raised her voice. Usually, it takes longer to unsettle her.

Elendil, who is standing at the large doors to the room, also seems a little shocked. As the two exchange a tender look, however, Míriel's features relax again and she straightens up, slipping back into the role of the wise, majestic Queen-Regent of Númenor.

"I won't accept no for an answer", she tells you, all calm and collected again. No trace left of your loving sister whom you loved so much.

"You have held me captive within these castle's walls for longer than I know and now you wish to ship me off like that?", you scoff in disbelief, crossing your arms in front of your chest, trying to mask how much she's hurting you right now.

"You wanted freedom. Here I am granting it to you."

"This is not freedom", you express your words through gritted teeth, your eyes burning with tears as your words have no effect on Míriel. "You think you can still control me like a child. But you no longer hold any power over me. I won't let you dictate the course of my life."

To emphasize your point, you grab the unassuming tiara adorning your head, smaller and thus in stark contrast to your sister's, and forcefully hurl it to her feet. Several small diamonds come loose and the sound of them scattering around the marble floor makes you shiver.

"I don't care who he is", you say angrily, your hands clenched into fists at your sides while Míriel only looks at you in shock, her eyes wide. "I won't marry someone I don't know, let alone love."

With these final words, you turn away and walk towards the door, which Elendil quickly opens for you. On his face, you clearly see that he feels sorry about how this whole situation expired. But you don't need his pity.

You stomp out angrily, holding back your tears, your pulse pounding in your ears. You have never told her what you think before. You have always done what she asked of you, been a good little sister because you can only imagine the burden she is carrying. But today she has crossed a line.

When you turn around in the hallway one last time, catching a glimpse of Míriel through the closing door, you see Elendil carefully approaching her to comfort her. From this perspective, she looks exhausted, hurt even. But all you feel towards her is anger. You can't help but roll your eyes and release a heavy breath of air from your lungs.

Undoubtedly, that is the reason why she wants you to marry Lord Halbrand. Because her heart is already taken.

You think back to times when you would have been overjoyed, when you would have been genuinely happy for her. You two would have lain on soft pillows and talked about everything, every little detail. Now, you can find none of these feelings inside of you.

Completely lost in your thoughts, you walk through the large halls of the castle, your home. A home that feels much more like a prison. With your head low, you turn a corner and suddenly collide with a hard wall. Caught off guard, you stumble back until a hand closes around your wrist and holds you tight.

You forget to breathe for a moment when your gaze meets his.

"Whoa there. Where are you headed, my lady?", Lord Halbrand asks you in surprise, a gentle smile on his face as he holds you close, his touch on your skin burning. As soon as you notice this, you break free from his grip and take your distance, smoothing down your dress, which he only comments on with a frown.

He is the last person you want to talk to right now.

"Are you all right?", he asks you with concern in his voice, making you realize that you haven't given him an answer and just stood there in silence. In fact, you don't really have anything to say to him. You just wish he would go back to Middle-earth where he belongs.

"Yes", you finally answer, coldly and curtly. "Now if you'll excuse me."

You walk past him, your shoulders almost touching, and listen to your own loud footsteps echoing through the halls as you walk down the corridor.

"Your demeanour leads me to believe that the Queen-Regent informed you of our plans", his voice calls after you, suddenly bringing you to an abrupt halt.

Our plans? That means they have been talking about this behind your back for who knows how long. You were deemed to lose from the beginning. As always.

"She did", you say, slowly turning around and towards him. He hasn't moved from the spot where you left him moments ago, but his presence fills the entire hallway anyway.

The way he stands there and looks at you, as if you were fragile and pitiable, makes the anger inside of you boil up once more and you walk towards him. Instead of taking a step back, however, he takes one towards you so that he is now towering over you with all his height.

"Listen to my words: I don't know what exactly you hope to achieve with this.. marriage. But it will never happen. I will not marry you", you tell him clearly, emphasizing the last words by poking your index finger into his chest. You don't give him time to answer, but as you turn around you notice the knowing grin that plays around his lips.

You decide not to respond to this and move away from him entirely. As soon as you turn into the next corridor, you finally feel like you can breathe again. At least as much as is possible for you within these walls.

You haven't been able to breathe properly in here for a long time.

You walk to your room, two guards posted on either side of the massive doors, and let yourself through without a word. Once inside, you find your way directly to the balcony, which overlooks the entire city and the harbour. The wind blows through your hair and creates a sad smile on your lips. From up here, you can hear nothing but the wind, the people frolicking down there nothing more than tiny black dots. A single tear finds its way down your cheek and you don't bother to wipe it away. Rather, you are amazed that you can even cry at all after all the tears you have already shed here.

You don't know if it is at that moment, or before, when you threw your crown at Míriel's feet, but you make a decision.

With a goal in mind, you go back inside, into the huge room you call your own and search through several closets until you find what you are looking for. You swap your beautifully ornamented dress for a more simple one, get rid of all your jewelry and put your hair into a casual updo. On the way to the door, your own reflection briefly looks back at you from the mirror across the room and you pause as you look at yourself.

Nothing is left of the little girl who once had dreams and pursued goals.

Taking another deep breath, you open the door and step out. The guards bow, as they always do when they see you.

"I'm going to pay a visit to my father", you explain to them, which they confirm with a short nod. They are about to follow you, but seem to remember that you are now allowed to walk around without guards constantly at your side, at least within the castle's walls. A change that hasn't been in effect for very long.

Nevertheless, you quicken your pace once you are out of their reach, afraid that they will decide to follow you after all. On your way, you make sure to avoid the maids and other guards, hiding behind corners, holding your breath. When you finally arrive at the stairs to the tower that lead up to your father, you stop hesitantly. But it only takes a moment, remembering your conversation with Míriel and all the other terrible events of the past, for you to regain your strength and turn away. With quick steps, you take the next set of stairs that lead down.

As you arrive in corridors that lead to the kitchen and staff facilities, you pay close attention to every little noise. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you feel like it can be heard echoing throughout the corridors. You put your shaking hands against the spot where your heart is and try to calm yourself down. You've never tried to break out of this prison before, you always thought you were here for your own good. But you know better now. The thought of the outside world, which you have encountered so rarely in your life, scares you beyond belief either way.

Your sister's words still roam around your mind, making you clench your fists, until you gather up all your courage. Finally, you make it out of one of the doors, out into the fresh air that greets you lovingly.

However, you have no time to linger and quickly move forward, with careful steps as not to alert anyone. As you walk, you pull a cloth out of the corset of your dress that you had previously hidden there. In one swift motion, you pull it over your head and hide your face behind the fabric, only your eyes visible now.

With these safety measures in place, you make your way to the harbour, away from the castle. The entrances for the staff are guarded, but because of your disguise they let you pass. Once you slip past them, you are immediately surprised by the number of people walking through the streets. The sun is already setting on the horizon and the warm light of lanterns illuminates the alleyways.

With a gentle smile, you watch as two children whirl around, holding dolls that they chase each other with. You follow the mass of people who probably want to celebrate the end of their day in one of the taverns. The closer you get to the center of the city, the market square, the louder and more crowded it becomes. You hear them talking, laughing with each other, arguments are being settled, some young girls dance in the middle of a crowd of people who happily watch and applaud.

Despite the positive and joyful atmosphere, you are overcome by a feeling of sadness and sorrow all of a sudden. These people are your people - and you never get to see them. They don't get to see you unless they enter the castle, and that is something only a few people are allowed to do, reserved especially for the nobles and those of higher rank. But what makes you even sadder is the fact that very few of them even care for you. You are second in line to the throne. Once your father leaves this world, Míriel will be their Queen. Accordingly, interest in you is quite low. You are not even sure they would recognize you if you took off your disguise.

The sad truth is that they wouldn't, and that hurts more than you thought. And these are the people you are supposed to give your life for.

Suddenly everything becomes too much for you. Your ears are ringing, your heart is pounding, your whole body is shaking. No matter where you look, there are crowds of people everywhere. You feel small, constricted, helpless. You are carelessly pushed to the side, shoved forward. Your feet are stepped on, no one apologizes. You try to break out of the crowd, but your head is spinning and you no longer know which direction to go. Your breathing is getting faster and louder by the second. Nobody notices, nobody shows even the slightest hint of interest in you.

When you feel your legs giving way beneath you, you are suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled into an alley.

You are terrified when you realize that you cannot defend yourself, your body is completely frozen and does not listen to your commands. Only when you feel a gentle hand on your cheek - the cloth must have come loose in all the chaos - and look up do you let out a breath that you didn't even know you were holding in. Lord Halbrand is standing in front of you, his face painted in concern as he looks you up and down.

"What are you doing out here all alone, Princess?", he asks and quickly grabs a hold of your shoulder as you start to drift away again, your legs no longer able to hold you upright. Exhausted, you lean against the stone wall behind you and close your eyes. You don't like that he sees you like this. On the other hand, he just saved you and prevented you from fainting in the middle of a crowd.

"I.. don't know", you whisper in defeat and it takes all your strength to admit it.

"What were you even thinking?", he says quietly, more to himself than to you. It feels like he doesn't want to scold you, but on the other hand he also does want to.

You look into his eyes, his face bathed in warm light from the soft candlelight of the lanterns around you. The wounds that are covering his skin have slowly healed, but even in this dim light you still notice them. Only now, when staring at him, do you realize that he is distracting you from all the noise and hustle, faded into the background.

"Come. I'll escort you back to the castle", he finally offers, his hands still on your shoulders as if he doesn't dare let go of you, afraid that you'll drift into the darkness at any moment.

Once again, you don't react and only stare at him, making the worry on his face deepen. In the meantime, you just can't wrap your head around how a Southlander like him, a low man, who barely knows you and who you've met with nothing but hatred, is worried about you while the people around you, your kind, are far away from even remotely caring about you.

"Can you walk on your own?", he asks, and when you finally nod in agreement, he lets go of you. But not for long, because after he puts the cloth back in its place to cover your features one of his hands wraps around yours and holds it tightly in his grip as he pulls you behind him, up several steps that lead further away from the cheerful scene.

You are grateful that he doesn't ask any questions, doesn't want to know why you were out here in the first place.

"Thank you."

That makes him pause for a moment and his hand applies a little more pressure on yours. In response, he turns to you with a gentle smile and lowers his head in resignation.

For some inexplicable reason, your heart suddenly skips a beat. He doesn't seem to notice the change in your face, however, and walks on. Together you make your way through the winding streets and you are amazed at how well he already knows his way around. You have to admit that it also hurts. After just a few days he's already more familiar with this city than you are.

You can already see the entrance to the castle when Lord Halbrand halts in his step, forcing you to stop as well. Turning to you, he steps closer and lifts your hand. Then, he gently places his other hand on top of it.

"I don't know what you were doing out there", he starts, looking from your hand between his to your eyes. "But rest assured that I'll keep it to myself."

The relief you feel in that moment is indescribable. If your sister found out you had escaped, she would surely reinforce all safety measure to protect you. This feeling doesn't last long, however, when another emotion suddenly overshadows it once he continues speaking.

"A princess like you doesn't belong out here."

He may not notice it, but these words hurt you deeply and make your eyes burn with tears within seconds. Without hesitation, you snatch your hand from him and put some distance between you by taking a few steps back. Your knees still feel weak, but you don't let it show. Lord Halbrand's face meets yours with incomprehension as you do so.

"I know where I belong", you spit out angrily and straighten up. For a moment you actually thought there might be more hidden beneath his facade. Oh, how wrong you were.

With these last words, you leave him standing there and walk the last few meters to the castle without him. Once again, you sneak through the staff quarters into the castle. Although you don't want to admit it, the walls suddenly give you comfort, making you feel safe and protected.

You quickly blink away a few tears and return to your chambers, where you go straight to bed. Even though you are incredibly exhausted and drained, you don't sleep all night. You toss and turn in the sheets, your mind plagued by nightmares until you hear the birds outside singing.

════════════

Annoyed, you slam the door to your chambers shut behind you and lean against it with a huff. Then you slide down to the cold ground and pull your knees closer to you, hugging them against your body.

Once again you tried to talk to your sister. Once again she dismissed your words as if they were worthless.

And that's exactly how you feel right now: worthless. Born into a life that brings you nothing but suffering and pain.

Ever since you were born, you were the one who would never ascend the throne. Who would never rule. And you never wanted to. You would never want to be your sister. But right now, you wish that you were both just born into a normal family, with no wealth or power. At the end of the day, she is still your big sister, the one who has always watched over you. Your mother dead, your father long bedridden - she is the only family you have left.

You miss the times when everything was peaceful. Happy times long gone when two sisters were inseparable. But the years made you believe that this world is not made for anyone to be happy.

You lower your head and let the sadness wash over you like waves finally bringing down a ship, and tears stream down your cheeks. Your body shakes, but you hold back any sobs, crying in silence.

You don't know how long you sat there, alone with your thoughts, the very last tear leaving your eye, but eventually something catches your attention. Something that reflects the light from across the room, lying on your vanity table that wasn't there when you left in the morning. Slowly, you get up and walk over, only to discover a beautiful brooch on top of a small piece of parchment. The design is that of a sun and the brooch is decorated with white and blue diamonds. It's breathtaking to look at.

You glance at the black ink on the parchment and your heart involuntarily jumps once more. The words read: 'Forgive me'.

When you suddenly hear footsteps behind you, however, you don't have time to think about these words any further. In one quick movement, you take an ornate dagger out of one of the drawers and turn in the direction of the noises. What you don't expect, however, is that Lord Halbrand emerges from the shadows behind your bed.

"H-How did you get in here? Who let you in?", you ask, out of breath, your heart pounding. The dagger in your hand is still raised, even as he approaches you. He doesn't say anything, however, just stands in front of you and slowly grabs your hand, which is tightly gripping the weapon. He lowers your joined hands and carefully removes the dagger from your grip, leaning over you to gently place it on the table.

"I was uncertain if my apology would be deemed acceptable, hence I wanted to see you in person to make sure", his soft voice sounds in your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. He is definitely too close to you right now and even though you'd never admit it, it doesn't feel uncomfortable. You look straight into his shining eyes which are not quite blue and not quite green but something in the middle. You swallow because the intensity in his gaze leaves you speechless.

"Get off me", you manage to croak out, sounding anything but convincing. Lord Halbrand notices this too, a smirk playing around his lips.

"I know you don't mean that, Princess. And that, deep down, you have already forgiven me", he breathes in a deeper voice than before and brushes a strand of hair from your face. In an instant, you grab his wrist and stop him from touching you any further. Because you know exactly what his touch does to you. And you simply cannot and do not want to acknowledge that you like what he does.

So far, every encounter with him was exhilarating, thrilling, like you were finally embarking on a long-awaited adventure. He awakens feelings you have kept locked away for a long time, sealed behind thick iron bars. Brick by brick, he slowly destroys the protective walls you have built around your heart.

It scares you.

"Lord Halbrand", you say more seriously now and stare directly into his beautiful eyes while he does not even try to free himself from your grip. "Get out of this room or I will call the guards and have you removed."

At that threat, Lord Halbrand lets out a quiet chuckle and removes his hand from your tight grip with ease.

"Before long, I will become your husband. It's time for you to get used to my presence, my lady", he states and the fury that rises in your eyes at his words is unmistakable. "I am aware that this.. arrangement may not be something you look forward to, but I suggest that you begin to come to terms with it. I fear you have no choice but to agree."

"Don't do this", you plead, and even though you try your best to hide it, your body trembles and your eyes fill with tears. The realization that he is telling the truth makes you feel sick to your stomach. Not wanting him to see your obvious discomfort, you turn your head away, lowering it in the process.

The next moment, however, you are unexpectedly pulled forward and suddenly feel two strong, muscular arms around you. Lord Halbrand hugs you as if his life depended on it. You can't even remember the last time someone hugged you. Especially not like this.

The slight scent of sea salt and smoke greets you and you have to admit that his embrace makes you feel safe, comfortable even. With his arms pressing you against his firm body tenderly, he manages to stop your body from shaking and your head from spinning. Right now, it's just you and Lord Halbrand. No could-haves, no would-haves.

The fact that you are no longer averse to his proximity scares you an immeasurable amount. That is also the reason why, in the next second, you push him away with all your strength, your hands on his hard chest.

"Please, Lord Halbrand. I need you to leave", you almost beg him and when his hand clasps yours on his chest, you look up at him and suddenly feel seen. The way he looks at you is unlike anyone has ever looked at you before.

"Your wish is my command, Princess", he nods and lifts your hand to his mouth, where he places a feather-light kiss on the back of your hand before he walks back to the large doors to your chamber, not taking his eyes off you. You also watch him and wait for him to finally leave you.

"Leave out the Lord next time", is the last thing he says before he disappears.

As soon as you see the door slam shut behind him, however, you run over with quick steps. Only when you get there and reach for the door handle do you stop yourself. What has gotten into you? Overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your body all at once, you lean your forehead against the door in defeat.

After staying there for a while and taking several deep breaths to calm your rapidly pounding heart, you walk over to the brooch that is still shining at you from the table. Carefully, you place the fragile thing in the palm of your hand and examine it when you suddenly hear a whistle.

Wondering where it came from, you step out onto your balcony and see a few ships leaving the bay in the distance. But your attention is quickly drawn to the person standing in the courtyard a few meters below, looking up at you. You don't have to look twice to know that it is Halbrand.

"Give us a chance", he calls up to you and even from this distance you can see the bright smile on his face. Then he turns around and disappears under one of the archways.

Holding the brooch tightly to your heart, you can't believe that a soft smile creeps onto your lips.

════════════

"His Lordship Halbrand has requested to see you, my lady", one of the guards announces as you step out of your chambers the next morning. The mention of his name makes your heart skip a beat and you straighten up immediately.

"Then I shouldn't keep him waiting", you reply gracefully and let the guard accompany you to the place where Halbrand wants to meet you. You wouldn't have expected this to be the inner courtyard, though. And even less that he would be waiting for you there with two saddled horses.

"I hope you had a good night's sleep, my lady", Halbrand greets you with a gentle smile and notices that your steps immediately slow down when you see him with the horses. "Rest assured, Princess. I have consulted with the Queen-Regent regarding this matter. With her approval, I am permitted to accompany you on a brief ride. If that is what you wish, of course."

You pause entirely. You can't believe he convinced your sister to let you leave the castle, and with only Halbrand as your company as well. On the other hand, you've gotten a sense of how charming and persuasive he can be in the last few days.

Smiling, he holds out the reins of a white mare that is standing calmly next to him. Still a little unsure about the whole situation, you take the reins and stroke the horse gently, but don't take your eyes off Halbrand.

"H-How?", you ask him in disbelief. You can't help but think back to how often you have begged your sister to finally let you leave the castle. The fact that she is allowing this now makes you a little suspicious, but you certainly won't question her motives if it means that you can experience freedom once more, even if only for a few hours.

"We have to be back by sunset", Halbrand winks at you and comes closer, making you take a step back instinctively. When he reaches out his hand, you realize that he just wants to help you onto the mare, so you put your hand in his. Once you feel his calloused, rough yet soft hand, a pleasant feeling flows through you and when you sit upon the mare's back, you feel like you could conquer the world. He mounts his black horse as well and together you lead the horses out of the gate.

You turn around, your eyes fixed on the castle and the guards who make no move to follow you. A sense of relief flows through your body at once. Side by side, you make it out of the city and as soon as you leave the border of the capital, you are greeted by vast meadows and fields, grass gently swaying in the wind.

It doesn't take long before you get your horses galloping over the fields. Your white mare is a little faster than his horse, but you hardly even notice. You can only concentrate on the wind blowing through your hair, letting your dress float gently behind you. The air feels liberating and you are amazed at the beauty of nature, the beauty of the island you call home but have seen so little of.

A little later you reach a white sandy beach, the waves calm, seagulls squalling in the distance. The sea suddenly smells completely different from what you are used to and you can't help but smile.

If this is what freedom feels like, you won't ever go back.

Finally, you bring your horse to a stop on the shore, scratching her head, and turn to Halbrand, who stops his stallion right in front of you. Your hair is all tousled by the wind, but Halbrand smiles at you so genuinely that your cheeks flush. Without saying a word, you hop off your mare's back and bend down to bury your hands in the sand. As Halbrand dismounts, you quickly take off your shoes, lift up the fabric of your dress a little, and wade into the shallow water, which laps warmly against your skin.

You can't remember the last time you felt the ocean. As a Númenorean, you are connected to the sea on a deeper level and it feels like, right now, it's showing you how much it's missed you, like you're reuniting with an old friend. The sun is high above you, warming your skin as you close your eyes and enjoy the moment. Then you jump around the water playfully and with so much joy you haven't felt since you were a child.

Until you meet Halbrand's gaze. He is still standing where you left him, the reins of both horses in his hand, watching you enjoy yourself with so much affection in his eyes that you want nothing more than to run to him and fall into his arms, chasing the exhilarating feeling he gave you the day before.

Shyly, you slowly walk back to him through the ankle-deep water, your dress a little wet at the bottom.

"Enjoying yourself?", he asks with a smile, one hand scratching his horse behind the ears as he looks you up and down with sparkling eyes.

"Not exactly princess-like behaviour now, is it?", you shrug, eliciting a chuckle from him that gives you goosebumps and makes your heart beat faster.

"If you want my humble opinion: I think it's exactly how a princess should behave", he replies, the wrinkles around his eyes from smiling making him even more handsome in your eyes. "You shouldn't have to hide from the world."

"I wish I could come here more often", you sigh, ignoring his statement, your mood suddenly burdened by the thought that this moment of freedom will not last long and you will soon find yourself locked up inside the walls of the castle again. Halbrand's expression matches yours, but his gaze lays you bare. Feeling weak, you turn away. You stumble through the sand and finally flop onto the ground on a small dune, neatly placing your shoes next to you. Halbrand leaves the horses in your sight and joins you, sitting just a few meters next to you, your elbows touching.

For a while, neither of you says anything and you just stare out at the waves, which radiate a certain calm.

"As a child, I was very sick. An unidentified illness that was brought over from the continent. Despite having overcome it, I remained in a very weak state, requiring assistance with everything. I was not allowed to go out neither were people allowed to see me for fear of infecting me again. I was always surrounded by guards", you explain, your voice strong, but you have to pull yourself together not to sob. "Míriel was the only one who stood by my side, who made my time a little more bearable. Since our father.. has fallen sick, my sister feels even more responsible for my safety and, just like him, doesn't let me go out. She says it's for my own good and I once believed that, a long time ago. But now I doubt her concern is rooted in anything else than her own fear of losing me."

As soon as the last words leave your lips, you feel free. Free from the burden of not being able to tell anyone. But saying it out loud makes it feel so much more real. Still, pride fills you that you didn't shed a single tear. Halbrand, who was hanging on your every word, looks at you not with pity or sadness, but with a smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me. I can hardly imagine how hard that must have been for you", he tells you, speaking as if all of this is no longer your present. Maybe it's not right now, but it will be once you return.

"I have been wondering why you were locked up inside your whole life", he mutters to himself and takes a handful of sand, letting it trickle through his fingers. "And despite the prospect of freedom, you are against this marriage?"

His words hit you harder than they should, because you have to admit that you haven't given it a thought since yesterday.

"It's about her treating me like I'm a commodity that can be sold for a price", you answer, anger rising inside of you at the thought. "Either she keeps me here and risks a war or she finally lets me leave, with the ulterior motive that I at least bring some added value to Númenor. Besides, no one ever said that I would come with you once we were married."

"You think she would keep you here?", Halbrand asks, astonished. When you nod, something like determination paints his features.

"I won't allow that."

"I fear none of us will have much say in this", you sigh, exhausted and defeated, absentmindedly playing with the sand now as well. "I'm sorry you have to put up with a princess who knows nothing about this world, let alone has seen anything-"

"Don't say that", Halbrand interrupts you firmly, his eyebrows drawn together as if it physically hurts him to hear such words coming from your mouth. "You are perfect in my eyes, Princess."

You are glad he can't see the way your heart has started beating faster. What he can see, however, is the blush rising to your cheeks, which you quickly try to hide by turning your head away, pulling your knees closer to you.

"I feel like no one has ever told you how beautiful you are. In every way", he continues and you are startled when you feel his hand on your chin, gently turning your face back to him. You find it difficult to look at him, his eyes are looking at you so intensely that you no longer know which way is up and which way is down.

"Lord Halb-"

"What did I tell you about the Lord?", he chuckles, shaking his head at your cute behaviour. He loves the colour of pink your cheeks have taken on and how your eyes search his for any sign that he is lying, but you find nothing but the truth in them.

"When I told you that a princess like you doesn't belong here, I meant that a princess like you, who should be a queen, doesn't belong on this island, isolated from the world", Halbrand whispers, his hand moving from your chin to your cheek, where he gently strokes your heated skin with his thumb. "You belong in the very middle of it."

"N-No. I could never be a queen, I was not born for that", you explain, confident in your own words because it's all you have ever heard in your entire life; you would never be queen.

"I will make you a queen", he replies and the conviction with which he says this, the affection that resonates in his words and his features, makes you believe in his words. You desperately want to believe them.

"I promise I will not go without bringing you along", he assures you, holding your face in both of his hands now, his face so close to yours that you only have to lean forward a little to taste his lips. Halbrand notices this too, his gaze wanders to your lips and back to your eyes, which meet his almost pleadingly. As soon as you slightly nod, he connects your lips in a gentle but longing kiss. You gasp, never having been kissed before. Your heart feels like it will jump out of your chest at any moment, the sound of the waves blurs with your heartbeat and your hands get lost in his hair.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds, both of you having to catch your breath, but you don't want to let go of him. You have no idea what this man, this inconspicuous King of the Southlands, is doing to you, but you don't want to think about it because all you know is that you finally feel like yourself again, a feeling that seems so familiar yet unknown.

"I promise I will make you a queen and if it's the last thing I do", Halbrand tells you once more, leaning his forehead against yours before leaving a gentle kiss on the side of your mouth. Smiling up at him, you waste no time to wrap your arms around his neck and connect your lips in another kiss.

You will be his queen. And then you will finally be free.

[corkinavoid]

| welcome to my blog |

You can find my full-written works on ao3 under the name corkinavoid or click this link.

| tags |

#cork prompts is for all my ideas, prompts, ficlets, big and small

#cork adds is for my additions to someone else's posts, usually including reblogs

#cork writes is for everything concerning my writing, rants, tips, and all things relevant

#cork writes fantasy is a tag specifically for my fic 'Fiance to a Star', updates, lore drops, moodboards, and soundtracks

#cork likes is for reblogs, mostly any pretty art I find

#cork art is for anything I draw, which is rather rare

#cork game is for a writing game I play that you can participate in here (currently on pause).

You can use all of my prompts how you see fit as long as you link/tag/credit me.

Other than that, here's some fun facts about me:

• neurodivergent but not a minor

• English is not my first language

• my favorite ships are Dead Tired and Anger Management, and I'm also deeply in love with Al Ghul Twins trope

| masterpost |

I'm only linking my series here, not all prompts.

Changeling AU: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5], [a fic "Danny! Wait, who's Danny?"], [part 6], [part 7]

Haunted Family AU: [part 1], [a fic "It takes three days to get adopted"], [a fic "A cat walks by herself, but so does a ghost"], [a fic "A new family, an old family, and a never ever happening family walk into a gala"], [part 5]

Mercenary Danny AU: [part 1], [a fic "I'll pay you ten times"], [a fic "I want to hire you"], [a fic "I'm asking you out"]

Multiverse Police/Good!GIW: [part 1], [part 2], [side notes], [part 3], [another part 1], [another part 2]

Fantasy Magic School AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Fiance to a Star']

Fantasy Royal Fae AU: [part 1], [a fic 'Married to Winter']

Masters Mansion/Socialite Danny: [inspo], [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [a fic 'Coronation'], [a fic 'There Are No Living Here']

John Constantine's Ghost Kids: [part 1], [part 2]

All the al Ghul Twins related posts: [one], [two], [three], [four], [five], [six], [seven]

Ring of Engage: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4]

Hogwarts AU: [part 1], [part 2], [part 3], [part 4], [part 5], [part 6]

[demonic0angel]

Twitter AU (Part 6)

In the DP world...

Meanwhile, in the DC world...

On the hero side...

Previous <- -> Next

Notes:

+ We're getting to the plot in the next update!! :D

+ Originally, the intended ships in this AU was Gray Ghost and Stephcass (with Anger Management as the in-between). I deleted/adjusted all of that bc I realized that it would’ve been more fun if I developed the ships through the course of the AU and allowed the viewers to decide what ships they wanted. As such, I still have tweets like above where Steph and Cass are lowkey flirting lmao, but now it’s all platonic.

+ The image Duke used is this one: (I edited it myself, but the images are drawn by Juni Ba)

[bones4thecats]

┗ They're Mine; TFA! Cons × GN! S/O ┛

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave (Transformers Animated) *characters aren't shipped together A/N: This was actually fun to write, I made the idea while ago but never had any energy to write it out. Thank goodness I did, though. I love this, by far one of my most enjoyable pieces to write. ⇘ Summary: After returning from a mission with Shockwave on Cybertron, you attract the attention of Lord Megatron and his second-in-command, Starscream. But, after becoming more comfortable around the Decepticon team, they're shocked by the realization of your status with your spy-partner.

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👑💫 Having one of these mechs on your aft is hard enough. But having both of them? Oh, I feel bad for you.

👑 Megatron doesn't hesitate to show his disdain for any of his fellow Cybertronians, or really anything in general. But, because of this quality, it's easy to tell when you likes you around. Examples of this is Shockwave.

💫 Starscream on the other hand is the exact opposite. He never really shows he likes anyone. Probably because he doesn't, but I regress.

👑💫 However, when you came around, these two changed their actions almost fully. They're still just as unstable as before, but they do try to tone it down when you're nearby. Starscream does this better than the anger-issues having warlord.

👑💫 You were terrified when you met the warlord. You may have been a Decepticon who followed him for many years through the war back home, but actually seeing him face-to-face was totally different.

🧪 During Shockwave's time on Cybertron, you were right by his side. You managed a lot of the background parts, you made sure there were records of a Longarm and Hillcrest being created and being raised on the planet. Longarm being Shockwave's alias and Hillcrest being yours.

👑🧪 When you both were revealed as traitors, you fled to Lord Megatron as quickly as possible. He wasn't happy you both failed, but the way you somehow managed to go that long and get quite a bit of information, did please him.

👑🧪 You stared up at the mech as he looked blankly at you. Shockwave looked back at you with his singular optic, before motioning for you to come closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and introduced you to your shared boss.

"Lord Megatron, I am pleased to introduce you to Y/N. They've been my right-hand during my time on Cybertron. Their knowledge almost surpasses my own, it's quite jarring."

"My Lord." You bowed, nervously staring at the ground as Megatron stared down at you.

"Rise." He demanded, to which you obliged and looked at him with slightly-widened optics.

"So," he began circling around you as he spoke. "You're the infamous Hillcrest Prime, leader of the Cybertronian Defense. Impressive work weakening their defenses on the inside without Ultra Magnus discovering."

"I-uh, thank you, my Lord. Though, Shockwave did do quite a bit of work himself with that." You chuckled.

"Oh, I'm sure he did." He purred, making your cheeks flare with a slight blue tint.

💫 Your first time meeting Starscream was far different. You actually knew him from before the war. He was one of your best friends as you aged. Starscream enjoyed being around you because you helped feed into his ever-growing ego.

💫 He always said you were adorable when you were young, but seeing you and how you aged was shocking. You stood alongside Shockwave, trying to put a few things together before Lugnut began to spout off about Megatron once again.

💫 You looked at Lugnut and blinked annoyingly, a scowl on your face as he kept rambling. He was pissing you off and both Starscream and Shockwave knew this, but didn't bother trying to stop you. They both understood your anger far to well.

"Lugnut. Please be quiet. Shockwave and I must continue our research into the ship and getting information out of Arcee."

"Are you saying you don't want to hear about our glorious leader, Lord Megatron?! How dare you insult him in such a menner?! Why-"

💫 Your optic twitched as you, without hesitation, stomped on Lugnut's ped, kicked him on the side of his face, and pushed him out of the room.

"And if you don't want to listen, stay out!" You yelled, slamming the doors shut.

👑 Megatron heard the noise and went to the room, only to find Lugnut pouting outside of the room.

"Lugnut? What caused that loud boom?" Megatron asked.

👑 The green and purple Decepticon stood up abruptly and bowed to the stoic mech before telling him the story. Only for you to yell back that you heard him and he should stop acting like a sparkling unless he wanted you to come out and throw him out the nearest exit.

👑 Megatron was slightly surprised. When you first arrived, you were on the shy-side, not really speaking unless necessary. But, perhaps that was how Hillcrest acted around people of authority and not Y/N? Most likely.

👑💫 Megatron entered and looked at Starscream, only to see the mech talking to you like he knew you for eons. Of course he did, but the warlord couldn't give a scrap. His second-in-command really knows how to make Megatron want to cut each cable in his system, doesn't he?

"Y/N, can you grab some supplies from the back?" Shockwave asked.

"...Huh? Oh- yeah. What do you need?"

"Just some lubricants and extra cords." He answered, antennae moving around as you smiled and nodded.

👑💫 Megatron and Starscream glared at one another, but they looked at you as you whipped off your servos and laid a cloth down for Shockwave to do the same later on. Come to think of it, the only Cybertronian they saw you always positively and freely interact with was the scientist...

👑💫🧪 Just as they began to go through the few memories they shared with you in the team, you stepped up slightly and pecked the scientist on the side of his helm. His antennae moved slightly upwards as he leaned his helm on yours for a slight second before you left to grab the materials he wanted.

"Did that just... happen?" Starscream mumbled, Lugnut beside him with his jaw dropped open.

"Uh- Shockwave." Megatron called.

👑💫🧪 Shockwave looked at his leader and hummed, wordlessly asking for the larger mech to continue.

"Are you and Y/N a... couple?" He strained out.

"We started acting lovingly while undercover in Cybertron's ranks, those small actions are practically in our average movements now." He replied.

"That doesn't answer the question!" Starscream yelled, servo balled in a fist as he yelled.

"To sum it up...

They're mine."

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 2

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

(Things get a bit angsty here for a bit, but don't worry, it gets back to some of the cracky-goodness!)

After allowing himself to relax for a bit and actually letting his muscles loosen for once, Jason rose from the bath and rinsed himself off under a piping hot and strong shower. He finished the rinse off with a flash of cold water to focus back up and made his way to the vanity where there was basic hotel amenities. He attempted to style his hair and after at least drying it, pulled on the fluffiest robe he has felt since he first moved into the manor all those years ago.

Fuck. The family. The Outlaws...

Jason put his face in both his hands and took a deep breath, then allowed his shoulders to slump as he dragged his hands from his face to his sides. He marched in a lazy manor over to the end of the large bed where he flopped face down. Surprisingly, it wasn't as fluffy as he was expecting and he silently thanked whatever force there was that he wouldn't have to resort to sleeping on the floor or a chair for the familiarity. Though, he turned his head to face the windows, that little reading nook looks like I could easily fall asleep there.

No, stop it. Do I remember the Dimensional Code for home?

Jason contemplated. On one hand, it could be useful, on the other, they could have an entirely different category system here. He spent the next however long trying to remember the dimensional code for his Earth and tracing the swirls of purples and greens out the large windows. A knock startled him.

"Jason? Are you decent?" He stood quickly and pulled the robe tighter together, not quite ready to show his autopsy scars to his soul-owner? A literal goddess? He wasn't quite sure what she was yet.

"Uh, yes, come in, I'm covered." He tried to stand casually next to the bed when he had just been sitting, his hands now in his pockets.

"Hi, so one of my aides figured one thing out about the ritual that is somewhat concerning and also something I probably also should have brought up. Mind if we sit at the window?" She strode in and settled herself with a pillow against the window and waited for him to do the same. Once he was settled, she hesitated for a moment before sighing and looking out the window to the haunting site outside.

"The Infinite Realms has another name, one coined from my Earth." She licked her lips before she spoke again. "It's also known as the Ghost Zone. As the dimension between dimensions, it is also where beings known as ghosts, the Restless Dead, Neverborn, Gods, and all sorts of other beings that thrive off a substance known as ectoplasm reside. As such, I am current Queen Regent of Ghosts." She let him think for a moment before turning to him. "That means I can tell when someone is death-touched." Jason froze. "I didn't mention it before because I know it's super personal, but then my aide figured out that the ritual only worked because of the fact you are and especially since you had spent time here-" She cut herself off as his eyes just bugged out larger with every word that spilled from her lips. "Sorry, I just, I'm death-touched too. I haven't died yet, but I have been around death magic, or radiation, or whatever it is, since before conception. I don't know exactly what you went through, but I know it was deeply traumatic. I can have my healers take a look at your soul and see if it's alright because it kinda radiates a bit how traumatic it was." She bit her lip with one hand raised near her chin.

Jason closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw tight and blowing the air harshly out his nose. He fell back against the window, allowing his head to knock against the glass. It was warm, as though the sunlight was gently shining upon it. "Yeah." He croaked. "Yeah, I died." He said softer. "I was dead for roughly six months." He dipped his head forward to block his face with his bangs. "Crawled outta my own grave." He laughed bitterly. "Spent a while wandering, a while more in a coma." He swallowed tickly. "Got picked up by my dad's vindictive ex and trained for a while to be an assassin." He looked up at her, making eye contact. "She dunked me in this pit of magic shit, we call it a Lazarus pit in my dimension. It cures those near death and kills the healthy. Fixed me up the rest of the way, or at least the scars and issues I had pre-death. I got to keep these." He allowed the top of the robe to fall away, showing the tops of the large y-shaped scar that ran the length of his torso. She gasped, both hands coming to cover her mouth, tears began to form in her eyes. She reached out as if to touch them and stopped herself, her face turning determined.

"I, Jazmine Nightingale, High Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms, the Mediator, the Caretaker, and all those other titles." She waved her wrist. "Declare that I will help you however you deem necessary. Whether that be helping your soul, returning you to your dimension, breaking this binding, or whatever. You are currently bound to you, and as such that makes you my responsibilities." She paused in her speech for a moment, thinking. "I mean, you're already technically one of my subjects because I think you qualify as one of the Restless Dead, but we'll figure out your classification when we take you to a healer. For now, it has been a long day. I will have one of my aides come to get your measurements for some clothes, I'm sure we have some around here somewhere that should fit you at least for dinner. The aides can get any style you like and it can be made quickly by the seamstresses we have on staff." At his hesitation she added with a smile, "They work in supernatural means, they will not overwork themselves by making an entire wardrobe in a few hours."

She patted the cushion in front of her and stood. "I will meet you at dinner, it's not formal at all, don't worry about dressing fancy, I'm just still in this getup from 'official queen stuff'" she said with air quotes looking tired. "I'll see you in a bit Jason!"

"Yes, um, your majesty." He stood to bow, the robe making it a bit difficult."

"Just Jazz please, for the love of the Ancients." She said with a pained look on her face.

"Right, sorry," he stammered, straightening, "See you later, Jazz." She smiled softly before leaving him to himself. He smacked his hand to his face groaning at himself before flopping face-first into the bed again. "She's the ruler of the dead and she's so determined and nice, what the actual hell? She's so earnest, it's so cute!" he sat up leaning his elbow on his knee. "Okay, operation Romance Plot is go. She isn't put off by the fact you died, this is good, I can work with this. Okay, so castle, let's go with that aesthetic. I'm thinking let's go with a poet shirt and some black slacks for dinner tonight." He claps his hands in front of him, decision made.

As if summoned by his words, there was another knock at the door. A man with bright sky blue skin and a deep plum butler's uniform opened the door, a measuring tape casually thrown over his shoulders.

"Yes, hello good sir. What aesthetic are we thinking for this evening?" he said in a posh accent.

Jason clasped his hands together. "What should I call you? Would you possibly have a poet's shirt and a pair of black formal slacks for this evening?"

"You may call me Jeeves. Yes that Jeeves. I am the personification of the trope of the helpful butler, and as such my power set includes anything and everything that could help me complete the duties of head butler of the High Family's home. We absolutely do have that attire on hand, it would be but a moment for someone to fetch it for us. Now did you have any ideas about future attire?" Jeeves snapped his fingers and a skeleton manifested in a swirl of dust to obey his silent command to gather the requested clothing.

Jason paused for a moment, considering. "How does the Queen usually dress casually around the castle? I know she said she was from an Earth. I don't know where in the timeline her Earth is from and she mentioned that what she was wearing earlier was mostly for special occasions, so I don't want to look like an idiot." He explained.

"Very good sir, she typically dresses in either a less formal toga if she's to be seen anywhere near the public areas of the castle, her armor whilst sparring with her knights, the High Princes and Princess, and if she is only going between her room and study then her far less formal Earth clothing which is a long sleeved blouse and lightwash jeans, typical of the late 1990's and early 2000's."

Jason thought for a moment. He didn't know how long he would be stuck here, but decided that clothes enough to last a fortnight should work. For all he knew, time flowed differently between here and his home dimension. Decision made, he told the butler what he wanted. Measurements were taken, the skeleton arrived with the requested clothes and Jason was left to change into his clothes for the evening. He still is wearing his combat boots because he forgot to ask for a pair of shoes.

Once changed, he realized that he still probably had a bit before dinner and he walked over to one of the bookshelves browsing the titles. There were several classics that he recognized, his favorite, Pride and Prejudice, was there. There were a few as well with Jane Austen's name, but not titles he recognized. He decided to come back to those later and pulled what looked like a collection of fairy tales from the shelf then settled himself lounging in the window nook to read for the next few hours.

[thedensworld]

Case 143 | K.Mg

Pairing: Detective!Mingyu x reader

Genre: action, romance, ex Au

Summary: Mingyu and Y/n are exes. One day, they have to work a case together and it makes the situation uncomfortable for both teams. Besides for the rookie, Hansol.

Breathless and with his heart pounding against his ribcage, Mingyu pushed himself to keep running. Every inhale felt like fire in his lungs, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him going. The urgency of catching Kim Jiheon, the elusive drug dealer he had been tracking for weeks, was consuming him.

His legs threatened to give out beneath him, protesting each step he took, but the thought of letting Jiheon slip through his fingers was unbearable. Alone and racing against time, Mingyu cursed under his breath as he sprinted towards the harbor. His team, blissfully unaware of the unfolding situation, was probably enjoying their dinner, oblivious to his urgent call for backup.

Frantically, he dialed the rookie of his team, Hansol, hoping beyond hope that his message had been received. Mingyu needed everyone at the harbor, and he needed them there now. The distance seemed endless, each stride feeling like an eternity as he fought against exhaustion and desperation.

As Mingyu finally reached the harbor, his eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of his team. But there was nothing. Doubt crept into his mind. Had Hansol even relayed his message? Was he truly alone in this race against time?

Despite the doubt gnawing at him, Mingyu clenched his jaw, refusing to give up. With determination burning in his eyes, he squared his shoulders and prepared to face whatever lay ahead. Kim Jiheon would not escape him, not this time.

Fortunately for Mingyu, his years of dedicated workouts and cardio had honed his body into a well-oiled machine, allowing him to chase down Kim Jiheon with impressive speed and agility. Even as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, he pushed himself harder, driven by sheer determination to apprehend his elusive target.

It was a testament to Mingyu's resourcefulness that he had managed to uncover Jiheon's plans to ship out tonight. Yet, despite his strategic prowess, a pang of frustration surged through him as he realized his own clumsiness had led to him misplacing his gun at the worst possible moment. Shooting Jiheon's leg would have simplified matters, but fate seemed to have other plans.

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the night air, sending Mingyu's heart racing as Jiheon crumpled to the ground, his leg now wounded and useless. Relief flooded through Mingyu as he spotted the familiar figure holding the pistol, their timely intervention saving the day.

With a steadying breath, Mingyu hurried to Jiheon's side, his movements deliberate as he secured the handcuffs around the criminal's wrists. A mixture of triumph and exhaustion washed over him as he delivered a sharp slap near Jiheon's gunshot wound, a small act of retribution for the chase that had left him soaked with sweat.

As a car and a bike approached, Mingyu watched with a mixture of relief and anticipation as the people inside sprang into action, swiftly attending to the fallen Jiheon. "Nice shot, captain!" one of them exclaimed, praising the biker who had delivered the decisive blow. Mingyu's eyes met hers as she removed her helmet, her intense gaze locking onto him.

There was a palpable tension in the air as she approached Mingyu, her scowl evident even from a distance. Despite the exchange of the gun between them, her anger seemed to simmer just beneath the surface, casting a shadow over the otherwise triumphant moment.

Effortlessly catching the gun she tossed to him, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered between them. Even as he rose to his feet, his body still thrumming with adrenaline, her continued displeasure weighed heavily on him.

As their eyes met once more, Mingyu couldn't help but protest, "Don't look at me like that." He rose from his brief respite, his voice tinged with defiance.

She rolled her eyes in response, her frustration evident. "Like what? Like looking at an idiot? Yeah! I am looking at an idiot who dropped his gun while running. Why are you even here? It's my case!"

Mingyu coughed, feeling the weight of her words like a punch to the gut. "It's related to my department, so it's natural for me to investigate it as well."

She shook her head, her tone firm. "It's one hundred percent on the Narcotic Department. Violence and Crime have zero relevance to this case. Also, your team doesn't have an investigation permission letter. So whatever you're doing right now, it's not under the office regulations," she explained, her words cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Good you're not dead," she muttered under her breath before swiftly donning her helmet.

Mingyu's heart sank at her dismissive words, but he refused to let his pride get the better of him. "Can I join you?" he asked, stepping forward.

She turned to face him, her expression unreadable as she removed her helmet. "Where's your car? How could you even get here in the first place?" she questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, feeling a pang of embarrassment at his lack of preparedness. But as he met her gaze, determination flickered in his eyes. "I found a way," he muttered, his resolve unwavering despite the obstacles in his path.

Mingyu didn't waste time with words. Instead, he reached for the helmet in her hand and the key, determination shining in his eyes. "Let's go," he said, motioning for her to join him on the back seat.

"Riding without a helmet is illegal, Kim Mingyu. We're police officers," she reminded him firmly.

A smirk played at the corners of Mingyu's lips as he tilted his head, meeting her gaze with a sense of camaraderie. "Well said, Ji Y/n. We're police officers."

*

Mingyu stood at the front of his team, his expression stern as he addressed each member in turn. With their heads bowed and hands folded behind their backs, they listened intently to his lecture, knowing they had failed their leader.

For seven minutes, Mingyu recounted the events of that fateful night, emphasizing the gravity of the situation had he been left to face danger alone. His voice carried a mixture of disappointment and frustration, each word punctuated by the weight of missed opportunities and the consequences of their negligence.

Hansol, the rookie whose distraction had led to Mingyu's solitary struggle, felt the weight of guilt settle heavy in his chest. The memory of the grandmother he had helped with directions now felt like a betrayal, a selfish act that had left his team leader vulnerable and alone in the line of duty.

As Mingyu concluded his lecture, his gaze swept over his team, the disappointment in his eyes unmistakable. Yet, beneath the reprimand, there was a glimmer of determination—a resolve to ensure that such a lapse in communication would never happen again.

Mingyu's commanding presence filled the room as he addressed his team, his eyes sweeping over each member with a sense of authority. "I want you to summarize an essay about how important teamwork is in our field and the role of the leader," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, Lee Seokmin, Seo Myungho, Boo Seungkwan, Lee Chan, and Choi Hansol snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute as a promise to fulfill their leader's directive.

As Mingyu's gaze lingered on Hansol, a sense of disappointment flickered in his eyes. "And Hansol," he added, his voice firm. "Face me after doing 20 laps of a run."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Mingyu dismissed his team, the air thick with the unspoken promise of accountability and unity in the face of adversity. They had learned a valuable lesson, one that would shape their future actions and reinforce the bonds of trust and solidarity among them. Mingyu turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving the room buzzing with a newfound sense of purpose and determination. Each member of the team knew that they had a responsibility to uphold, not only to their leader but to each other as well.

A shout erupted from Seungkwan, his voice echoing through the room, "I'm relieved that I'm not the rookie anymore, but I feel bad for Hansol." His frustration was palpable as he reached for the book sitting untouched on the bookcase for what seemed like ages—a self-improvement book on leadership and teamwork bought by their team leader, Kim Mingyu.

Lee Chan flopped onto the couch, exhaustion evident in every line of his body. He leaned back, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. "Then do his assignment instead," he mumbled, the remnants of their beef dinner lulling him into a sleepy stupor.

Seungkwan's fingers traced the embossed title of the book, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Relief mingled with guilt as he thought of Hansol, burdened with the weight of being the rookie. Mingyu's gesture was well-intentioned, but it only served to highlight the disparities within their team. As he flipped through the pages, Seungkwan couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him.

Myungho gently tapped Hansol's shoulder, offering reassurance in his touch. "It's not totally your fault, Hansol. That case isn't officially ours, so even if we're losing it, it wouldn't be our responsibility," he explained calmly to the younger member.

Hansol's brow furrowed in surprise, his eyes betraying his confusion. "But didn't we work hard on that case? Is it really okay to just let it go like that?" he questioned, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

Myungho nodded understandingly, his expression empathetic. "We assumed there might be a gang involved in Park Jiheon's case. But his capture definitely isn't in our hands," he clarified, his tone gentle yet firm as he tried to alleviate Hansol's worries.

Hansol sighed, a weight seeming to lift from his shoulders as he processed Myungho's words.

Seokmin chimed in, his voice carrying a sense of solidarity as he echoed Myungho's sentiments. "Don't worry about Mingyu, he just wasn't in the mood," he reassured, his tone soothing as he tried to ease any lingering concerns.

Chan's hands met in a soft clap of realization, his eyes widening with understanding. "Right? He's never scolded us that much before. I was really worried when he called. But then, when I saw him arriving on bike earlier..." Chan trailed off, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I knew," he concluded, his voice filled with certainty.

Seungkwan chuckled, his laughter ringing out in the room. "I saw them too. Kim Mingyu, our team leader..." he began, a hint of amusement evident in his tone as he recalled the sight of Mingyu's unexpected mode of transportation.

Sensing that the conversation was veering off track, Myungho interjected, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Let's finish our assignment before midnight," he urged, directing everyone's attention back to the task at hand. With a determined stride, he made his way to his desk, ready to dive into the work.

Seokmin reached out to Hansol, his offer of assistance laced with genuine concern. "Hansol," he called out, his tone gentle yet firm. "You can start your run. I'll take care of your assignment." The weight lifted from Hansol's shoulders as he breathed a sigh of relief, gratitude evident in his expression. He offered a quick word of thanks to Seokmin before hurrying out into the backyard, his mind already racing ahead to the looming encounter with their team leader.

As Hansol disappeared from view, the air seemed to crackle with anticipation. Each member of the team understood the importance of their roles, the weight of their responsibilities hanging heavy in the air. With determination etched on their faces, they set to work, united in their mission to meet the deadline and prove their worth as a team.

*

"I've read your report on the potential Cubic involvement in Park Jiheon's case, and I truly appreciate your astuteness in uncovering this," Chief Park acknowledged, his tone conveying a mix of admiration and seriousness. "However, I can't simply assign this case to your department without the Narcotics Department's involvement, especially considering it's already under their investigation," he explained, his words carrying a weight of deliberation and careful consideration.

As Chief Park's gaze shifted to Choi Seungcheol, the Head of the Violence and Crime Department, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to await his response. Superintendent Choi's expression remained composed, his mind already racing through the implications of Chief Park's words. With a thoughtful nod, he prepared to offer his insight, knowing that the decision ahead would shape the course of their investigation and the fate of their team.

Seungcheol's gaze shifted to Mingyu, his words carrying a sense of reassurance. "There are cases that require the expertise of special teams from different departments, sir. It's quite common in our line of work. If involving our team will expedite the process, then we should proceed," he stated confidently, his tone firm yet respectful as he laid out their rationale.

Chief Park nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging Seungcheol's explanation. "Alright, I'll speak with Superintendent Yoon about this matter and keep you both informed," he confirmed, his expression reflecting a blend of contemplation and gratitude. "Thank you so much for your input," he added, appreciating the insight offered by his dedicated team members. As the conversation drew to a close, the room buzzed with a sense of anticipation, each member silently hoping for a favorable outcome.

Mingyu and Seungcheol strode out of the Chief's office in unison, the weight of the conversation lingering heavily between them. Frustration etched lines on Mingyu's usually cheerful face, his hand harshly rubbing at his forehead in a futile attempt to erase the tension. Seungcheol, observant as ever, couldn't ignore the sudden shift in his junior's demeanor.

"What's wrong?" Seungcheol asked, his own irritation growing as he tried to decipher what had dimmed the usually bright spirit of his junior.

Mingyu shrugged, attempting to downplay the turmoil brewing within him. "It's alright," he muttered, though the strain in his voice betrayed his attempt at composure.

Seungcheol scoffed, unable to contain his sarcasm. "Yeah, everyone can tell you're alright," he quipped, hoping to coax out the truth behind Mingyu's facade.

The jest halted Mingyu in his tracks, his gaze snapping towards Seungcheol with a mixture of surprise and irritation. "Really?" Mingyu's brow furrowed, his frustration momentarily eclipsed by confusion before realization dawned upon him. "That's not funny, sunbae," he retorted, the tension between them palpable as they stood locked in a silent battle of emotions.

Seungcheol motioned for Mingyu to halt in front of a cooler, offering him a soft drink. Mingyu nodded gratefully, sinking onto the nearby bench as Seungcheol handed him a can of coke.

"Are you going to be alright working with Y/n?" Seungcheol asked directly, his concern palpable in the air. Mingyu shot him a sidelong glance, his mood evident in the gesture.

"What? I'm just worried, okay? You both are my juniors and used to be under my team." Seungcheol explained.

"I know," Mingyu mumbled, his head dropping as he stared at his shoes. He sighed heavily. "It's been messing with my head. I can't seem to stop thinking about her."

Mingyu looked up at Seungcheol, his expression a mix of frustration and self-doubt. "Even last night, I lashed out at my team for not capturing Park Jiheon. We worked tirelessly on the case, even though it wasn't our responsibility. It was... selfish."

"I feel like such an idiot, sunbae," Mingyu confessed.

Seungcheol paused, considering his words carefully before responding. "Professionally? Yes, you made mistakes. But we can't ignore matters of the heart, Mingyu. We're police officers, yes, but we're also human. We feel things deeply. Sometimes, our emotions cloud our judgment."

Mingyu chuckled weakly. "It's surreal to hear reassurance from you, Seungcheol sunbae. I remember when you used to chew me out back in my rookie days."

Seungcheol scoffed, folding his arms. "Rookies are always in for a rough ride," he said with a wry smile, pointing a finger skyward.

"If working with Y/n is going to worsen things for you, then maybe you should assign the case to another member. I hear Myungho is a great profiler," Seungcheol suggested.

Mingyu nodded slowly. "I'll think about it."

As they stood in the quiet of the break room, the weight of Mingyu's dilemma hung heavy in the air, each man lost in his own thoughts.

*

"From today, the two of your teams will work together on the case given. Don't get distracted; Cubic might be more than we've known." The chief's words echoed in the room as the teams filed out.

Seungkwan and Chan exchanged subtle signals, while Seokmin and Myungho struggled to maintain their composure. Hansol, the only one oblivious to the tension, glanced at his leader, silently asking, "What's going on, sunbae?"

"Let's arrange a meeting tonight. My team will share everything we've found related to Cubic," you announced, stopping abruptly to address Mingyu.

Mingyu nodded and motioned for his team to proceed ahead. "Let's have a talk," he suggested, prompting you to instruct your team to head out first.

"We're talking," you said firmly once everyone had left. Mingyu rolled his eyes at your sudden display of petulance.

With a sigh, Mingyu began, "Let's not make everyone uncomfortable."

Your frown deepened. "I haven't done anything."

Mingyu hesitated, biting his lip before continuing, "I mean—"

"The way you speak makes everyone nervous," he clarified.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "That's just how I communicate. I thought you knew that."

"However," you added, your tone becoming more serious, "I'm sorry, but you can't tell me what to do unless it's about the case. You're not my boyfriend."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Kim Mingyu standing there, frustration evident on his face as he watched you go.

*

Mingyu, you, and Wonwoo entered the academy at the same time and were assigned to the same team upon graduation ten years ago. Working under intense pressure with Seungcheol as the team leader, the three of you quickly became inseparable. Mingyu and Wonwoo were always there to help you maintain your composure, making sure you didn't impulsively shoot anyone you caught, given your renowned marksmanship.

Mingyu, the athletic and brain one, carried the team with his impressive deductive skills, which had caught Seungcheol's eye during your rookie days. He had an uncanny ability to piece together the most obscure clues, turning chaos into coherent narratives that led to countless breakthroughs in your cases. His strategic thinking and physical prowess made him the backbone of the team.

Wonwoo, on the other hand, was a jack-of-all-trades and thrived on challenges. He was always willing to take the biggest risks, whether it was infiltrating dangerous territories or going undercover in high-stakes operations. His versatility and daring nature complemented Mingyu's methodical approach, creating a dynamic and effective duo.

For Seungcheol, having the three of you on the same team was a stroke of fortune. Your combined skills and unwavering loyalty to each other made the team formidable. Seungcheol knew he could rely on you to handle the toughest cases, confident that you would always have each other's backs, no matter the danger.

Wonwoo vividly remembered the day Mingyu panickedly ran down the hospital aisle after hearing you were injured during a mission to intercept a gang transaction. The two of them stood helplessly by your hospital bed, staring at your weak form with a broken leg and arm.

From that day forward, Mingyu and Wonwoo promised never to leave your side. You made the same promise to them.

"You two are dating?" Wonwoo asked, watching as you and Mingyu nodded excitedly like puppies.

"Finally." A sigh of relief escaped from Wonwoo's mouth.

Surprised by his reaction, you asked, "You knew?"

Wonwoo scoffed, "You were the only one who didn't realize how smitten Mingyu has been with you all these years."

You turned to Mingyu, who was blushing furiously at Wonwoo's words, his cheeks tinged a deep shade of red.

"Anyway, let's get some meat tonight. I'll pay," Mingyu declared, trying to shift the focus away from his embarrassment.

Just then, another figure stirred, startling the three of you. Seungcheol, who had been dozing at his desk, rubbed his eyes and stretched.

"Am I invited?" he asked, his voice slightly groggy.

The mood lightened as you all began discussing the evening's plans, the camaraderie and affection between you all evident. Despite the pressures and dangers of your work, moments like this reminded you why you were a team—why you were a family.

*

It's been a few weeks since you and Mingyu started working together on the case. The atmosphere was not as uncomfortable as it used to be, but everyone could still sense the underlying tension between the two leaders. Although you and Mingyu didn't feel that way, the rest of the team couldn't help but walk on thin ice around you.

The investigation had already uncovered Cubic's involvement in the narcotic industry and the powerful figures behind them. Mingyu and you had serious discussions from time to time, meticulously arranging every detail of the operation. The years of the close relationship you once had before it broke three years ago were now a distant memory, masked by the professionalism you both maintained.

Despite the professionalism, there were moments when the past seemed to seep through the cracks. A shared glance, an unspoken understanding—remnants of what once was. These moments, though fleeting, didn't go unnoticed by the team.

During one of the sessions, as you pored over maps and files, you couldn't help but recall the days when teamwork came effortlessly between you and Mingyu. Back then, your synergy was unmatched, a force that propelled your team to solve the most challenging cases.

Now, as you both focused on taking down Cubic, the stakes were higher than ever. The complexity of the case demanded absolute focus and collaboration. You admired Mingyu's analytical skills, his ability to connect dots that seemed unrelated, and his unwavering dedication to the mission. It reminded you of why you had once fallen for him.

Mingyu, on the other hand, found himself occasionally lost in thought, reminiscing about the times when your relationship wasn't just professional. He admired your courage and precision, your knack for getting to the heart of a matter with unerring accuracy. But he also knew that the past was a closed chapter, and what mattered now was the mission at hand.

As the team continued to unravel the tangled web of Cubic's operations, you and Mingyu found a new rhythm in your collaboration. The hints of rivalry that others perceived were, in truth, a testament to the high standards you both held each other to.

"Sunbae!" Seungkwan burst into the meeting room, his urgency drawing the attention of both you and Mingyu.

"Hansol and Jihoon were captured by Cubic," he announced, breathless.

"What?" you and Mingyu exclaimed simultaneously, immediately moving towards Seungkwan, who held out his phone, showing a picture of Hansol and Jihoon tied up, their faces bruised and bloodied.

"No..." you whispered, covering your mouth in shock.

Mingyu glanced at you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern, before turning to Seungkwan. "Gather everyone immediately," he instructed.

Seungkwan nodded and hurried out of the room.

"I'll inform the superintendents and the chief about this," Mingyu said, already reaching for his phone.

"We need to find them immediately," you told Mingyu, your voice trembling with urgency.

"We will save them. Please, calm down," he reassured you, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room under Seungcheol's direction, they quickly got to work, tracking through CCTV footage, emails, phone numbers, and transmissions to pinpoint Hansol and Jihoon's location.

"How about the ring?" you asked Jun, one of your team members.

"What ring?" Mingyu inquired.

You showed him your ring. "We programmed GPS into our team rings."

Jun shook his head. "It was left in a small alley in Itaewon. Seokmin and Myungho have already checked it out."

You sighed, your foot tapping anxiously on the floor.

"Itaewon?" Mingyu asked, frowning. He recalled Hansol mentioning he was heading to Sadang, Dongjak. "Where was he last before he was captured?" Mingyu asked Jun.

"Dongjak Bridge," Jun replied.

Mingyu rushed to his desk, rifling through papers. "If they were captured at Dongjak Bridge and the GPS was discarded in Itaewon, it means they made a U-turn," he deduced. "Their nearest area from Itaewon would be Gwangjang."

You bit your lip at Mingyu's deduction and immediately instructed Jun to track the CCTV footage around Myeongdong.

Seungcheol received a call from the district station and made eye contact with the two of you. "Alright, we'll be there," he said, hanging up.

"The car that captured them was seen around Gwangjang Market. Jun, find any abandoned buildings there. Mingyu, Y/N, you two drive to Myeongdong,"

*

Mingyu stood motionless in front of the ICU, his eyes fixed on the doors, while you were crying on the floor after the incident during the mission. A bomb had exploded in the hotel while your team was attempting to catch a serial killer.

You had been trapped in the perpetrator's trap, tied up in a room with a time bomb ticking down. Wonwoo had been trying to save you, but he knew he had to get the bomb away from other people.

"No, don't," you pleaded as Wonwoo prepared to pull the strap of the time bomb.

"You need to get everyone out of this building. I'll take the bomb to a higher floor," Wonwoo instructed, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

You shook your head, desperation in your eyes. "Let's get down together." You grabbed his arm, but he stood firm.

"Save the people and do what I said. We have five minutes," he urged.

You looked at him, tears streaming down your face, before gradually stepping away. You watched as Wonwoo sprinted towards the emergency stairs, determination etched on his face. You then turned and began evacuating everyone, your heart heavy with fear and hope.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu mumbled as you both waited anxiously for news about Wonwoo's condition. Reports had indicated that he was badly injured and would require several surgeries.

You stood up, frustration and sorrow evident on your face. "You left us!"

Mingyu took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping with regret. "I'm very sorry."

In a surge of emotion, you grabbed his collar and shouted, "You saw me in trouble, but you ran off to catch that bastard! You lost sight of your priorities!"

Mingyu nodded, his face reflecting the realization that he had made a grave mistake by abandoning his injured teammates.

"Hey... Stop it," Seungcheol said, his voice heavy with exhaustion and stress. He stepped in and gently pulled you away from Mingyu.

Just then, the doctor emerged from the ICU, calling out Wonwoo's name. The news he delivered was something no one had been prepared for.

You fell to your knees, overwhelmed by the weight of the doctor’s words. Mingyu leaned against the nearest wall, his face hidden in his hands, unable to escape the guilt that consumed him.

Seungcheol, the team leader who had just lost a member, stood nearby, grappling with his own overwhelming sense of failure. He could not shake the feeling that he should have done more, that he had let his team down in their darkest hour. The weight of the day’s events hung heavily over everyone, casting a long and painful shadow on the team.

*

You and Mingyu immediately ran to the abandoned building where Hansol and Jihoon were being held captive. The rest of the team followed closely, their weapons at the ready. As you neared the building, Mingyu's phone rang. It was a call from Seungcheol. Mingyu signaled for everyone to stop moving when he heard Seungcheol's urgent voice, "Stop everyone. He wants to meet Y/N."

Mingyu's eyes locked onto yours as Seungcheol continued, "Yoo Yongchul wants to meet Y/N only."

Mingyu relayed the message, and you muttered a curse under your breath, "He hated it when I took down his men last week." The pieces clicked into place—this was why Hansol and Jihoon had been captured.

"Tell him that Y/N will be with me," Mingyu instructed Seungcheol before ending the call. He quickly briefed Myungho and Jisoo to lead the team while you and he headed upstairs.

"Be careful," Myungho whispered as he took his position, his eyes filled with concern.

With a nod, you and Mingyu moved cautiously up the stairs, the old wooden steps creaking under your weight. The air was thick with tension, every shadow a potential threat. Your mind raced, strategizing how to handle Yoo Yongchul and secure the safe release of your teammates.

Reaching the designated floor, you saw a dimly lit room at the end of the hallway. Mingyu placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We’ve got this. Just stay focused."

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. As you entered the room, the dim light revealed Yoo Yongchul standing in the center, a sinister smile on his face. Hansol and Jihoon were tied up in the corner, their faces bruised and eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear upon seeing you.

"Here we are. Did you bring my men?" Yoo Yongchul, the leader of Cubic, greeted you with a smile that stood in stark contrast to his grim-faced men, who held weapons aimed at Hansol and Jihoon.

"You let them go, and we'll talk," you replied, your calm tone surprising even Mingyu.

Mingyu's eyes widened as you pulled out your gun, unloaded it, and let the bullets clatter to the floor. You then tossed the gun aside, followed by your knife and handcuffs.

"What are you doing?" Mingyu whispered, alarmed.

Yoo Yongchul motioned for his men to release Hansol and Jihoon. Mingyu immediately moved to their side as they were pushed towards you.

"So, what do you want?" you asked.

"Let's pretend we never sold narcotics," Yoo Yongchul said smoothly. "Detective Kim knows what we've done, right? We just own a few nightclubs and do some debt collecting."

You smiled, a dangerous edge to your expression. "Nightclubs aren't enough, so you got your hands dirty with 'candy' from Russia? How does the money from selling narcotics feel?" Your taunt hit its mark, and Yoo Yongchul's smile vanished. He grabbed a gun from one of his men and aimed it at you.

Mingyu, Hansol, and Jihoon, who got their gun from Mingyu, quickly raised their guns, ready to protect you.

"Thank you for this invitation, Yoo Yongchul," you said, your voice steady.

Sensing your intent to capture him, Yoo Yongchul fired at you and immediately ran. Hansol and Jihoon sprinted after him, but Mingyu stopped when he noticed you were bleeding.

"You didn't wear a vest?" Mingyu exclaimed, shock evident in his voice. He quickly directed everyone to move through his radio, but you motioned for him to join the others in pursuing Yoo Yongchul.

"No, I'm not leaving you here bleeding," he insisted, gently lifting you into his arms and heading downstairs.

"I'm heavy," you whispered weakly, your hand pressed against the wound on your stomach to stem the bleeding.

"Shut up, it's not like I’ve never lifted you before," Mingyu retorted, his tone a mix of frustration and concern.

You winced in pain, the reality of being shot for the first time hitting you hard. Your recklessness in not wearing a bulletproof vest during the mission now seemed like a grave mistake.

"Please, stay awake," Mingyu urged as he descended the stairs, his voice trembling slightly. He could feel your strength waning with each passing moment.

As he carried you, Mingyu's mind raced with thoughts of your shared history and the countless times you had saved each other. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you now. "Just a bit further," he whispered, more to himself than to you, as he pushed through the pain and fear gripping his heart.

With the help of the district station, Yoo Yongchul and his men were successfully captured. Seungcheol saw Mingyu holding you and immediately ran to assist. Quickly getting you to the paramedics, Mingyu watched anxiously as they tended to your wound.

"She didn't wear a vest?" Jihoon, who was also in the same ambulance on the way to the hospital, was shocked to find out his leader was injured.

Hansol, sitting beside Jihoon, looked on in concern as you slowly closed your eyes. "Ma'am, please stay awake. We're on our way to the hospital," the paramedic urged.

Mingyu's hand immediately found yours and squeezed it tightly. "Hey... stay awake... please," he begged, his voice filled with desperation.

"It's hurting," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Mingyu nodded, his face a mask of concern and guilt.

"Mingyu, thank you," you whispered, your voice growing weaker. "Thank you..."

Mingyu shook his head, hating the way you kept thanking him in this dire situation. "Stop it!" he said, his voice breaking.

"I'm so tired," you mumbled, your eyes fluttering. "I miss Wonwoo."

"Sunbae!" Jihoon exclaimed, his voice filled with disapproval and concern, speaking up on behalf of a speechless Mingyu.

Mingyu's heart clenched at your words, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "We can't lose you too."

The ambulance sped through the city streets, sirens blaring. The paramedics worked tirelessly to stabilize you, their faces grim with determination. As the hospital came into view, Mingyu's grip on your hand tightened, a silent promise that he would never let you down again.

The ambulance doors flew open, and the medical team rushed you inside. Mingyu followed closely, his eyes never leaving you. "She's going to be okay," he told himself, the words a mantra he desperately needed to believe. "She has to be."

*

Hansol, Jihoon, Seungkwan, and Myungho sat waiting anxiously in front of the surgery room. Their eyes kept darting to Mingyu, who stood steadfastly by the door, not moving an inch since you were taken in an hour ago.

"I don't know what exactly happened, but I watched him in the ambulance," Hansol said, looking over at Jihoon. "He looked so worried. Like he was afraid something terrible would happen."

"I know... everyone can see he still loves her," Seungkwan sighed.

Hansol frowned. "What do you mean? They were together?"

Jihoon glanced at him. "You didn't know?"

"He's new," Seungkwan informed Jihoon.

"They were together until three years ago, before they were promoted to team leaders. It was Jihoon hyung, Myungho hyung, Mingyu sunbae, y/n sunbae, and I was the maknae. Seungcheol sunbae was the team leader," Seungkwan explained.

"We lost a member during a mission. It was their best friend," Jihoon added somberly. "I don't know all the details, but the rumors about their breakup started after that. However, I always knew that Mingyu sunbae never truly left Y/n sunbae's side."

The group fell silent, the weight of the past and present hanging heavily in the air. The surgical room doors remained closed, and every passing minute felt like an eternity. Mingyu's unwavering presence by the door was a testament to his feelings, a silent promise that he wouldn't lose you, no matter what it took.

"What is wrong with you, actually?" Those were the first words out of your mouth after days of not speaking to him. It was almost midnight when he drove you home after Wonwoo's funeral. Unable to bear the thought of leaving you alone, he stayed.

"What is wrong with you?" you asked again, this time in a whisper.

He knew exactly what you were referring to, but the guilt weighed heavily on him. He couldn't stop hating himself every time he remembered that he was the cause of losing Wonwoo and almost losing you as well.

"You've always been the one to prioritize other. How could you go when you saw me tied up in that room?" you continued, your voice cracking with emotion.

Mingyu held his head down, unable to meet your eyes. Deep down, he knew the reason behind his actions, and it made him hate himself even more. He remembered the frantic moments of trying to find, where the culprit had taken you, with Wonwoo while the rest of the team focused on evacuating the area.

"Did something happen to you?" Your question pierced through his thoughts, bringing tears to his eyes. You were too good for him, he thought. How could an angel like you exist for someone as flawed as him? He was betraying you, for God's sake!

"There are only two spots, Detective Kim," he remembered Chief Hong's insinuation. It was promotion time. Mingyu, Wonwoo, and you had dedicated your lives fully to the work. However, there were only two promotion spots available, and they were likely for him and Wonwoo.

Competently, Wonwoo and he were better detectives. But everyone knew you were fit for a leadership spot. Honestly, none of you didn't deserve the place.

"Detective Jeon definitely has a spot. Honestly, I have high hopes for you, Detective Kim. However, the superintendents have been discussing Detective Ji's performance in leading several cases," Chief Hong had said.

Mingyu’s mind replayed the conversation. The promotion meant everything to him. It wasn’t just about recognition; it was about proving his worth, his dedication. But that ambition had clouded his judgment, leading to choices that he now regretted deeply.

You sighed at his silence, frustration boiling over. "You left me in danger and now you're keeping things from me," you said, your voice trembling with hurt. "I guess seven years wasn't enough for you? For us?"

Mingyu shook his head. "That's not what I meant."

"Then tell me! We lost Wonwoo, for god's sake! How could you stay silent like this, Kim Mingyu?"

Mingyu was startled; it was the first time he'd heard you raise your voice at him. He looked at you, eyes widened in shock. Why was it always about Wonwoo? When was it going to be about him? When would he be prioritized?

"You shouldn't bring up Wonwoo. I'm having a hard time too," Mingyu said, his voice cracking. He stood from the couch, grabbing his black suit from the funeral.

"It's always about him, right?" Mingyu mumbled, his words heavy with bitterness and pain, before he walked out, leaving you alone in the silence of the night.

The echo of his departure hung in the air, leaving you with a hollow ache that felt impossible to fill. The chasm between you and Mingyu seemed wider than ever, and the loss of Wonwoo weighed down on both of you like an unspoken curse.

*

Mingyu stood somberly at the funeral with his team, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. In this industry, people came and went, and the harsh reality of that truth weighed heavily on his heart. He tapped one of your member, Jisoo's shoulder, silently urging him to stay strong amidst the recent turmoil.

After the funeral concluded, Mingyu found himself heading to your apartment. The familiar path brought a wave of nostalgia. He remembered all the times he had crashed at your place, finding solace and comfort within its walls. Your apartment had always felt more like home to him than his own, mainly because it had you in it.

As he stood outside your door, memories of laughter, shared meals, and late-night conversations flooded his mind. The warmth of your presence, the way you made everything better just by being there—it all came rushing back. With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped inside, hoping to find some semblance of the connection you once shared, even amidst the pain and unresolved issues that now lingered between you.

"Wake up," Mingyu said softly, shaking your shoulder. "I brought you lunch. It's past time for your medicine."

You groaned and stretched like a cat, wincing as the still-healing wound reminded you of its presence. "How's Jisoo?" you asked, feeling guilty for not being able to attend his father's funeral, Regional Chief Hong.

Mingyu prepared the food on your nightstand and handed it to you. "Even though we knew he hated his father, he's still his father. Jisoo's holding up as best as he can."

You sighed, taking the plate from him. "I wish I could've been there for him."

Mingyu sat beside you, watching you carefully. "He understands. We all do. Focus on getting better. That's what matters right now."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, Mingyu. For everything."

He smiled, gently squeezing your hand. "Always."

You shook your head. "I really mean it. Thank you for always being there," you said sincerely.

Mingyu looked at you, stunned by your words. "You knew?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded slowly. "Everyone knows."

Mingyu's face flushed slightly. "I know you weren't that stupid for stepping over regulations, helping with my cases," you mentioned as you took your first spoonful of food.

You frowned slightly. "It doesn't have green onion. You remembered?" you asked, surprised.

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "Of course I remembered."

You chuckled and playfully slapped his arm. "Stop acting like that to women!"

Mingyu raised his hand to pat your head, smiling softly. "Only for you."

You bit your lip, trying to stop yourself from saying something. However, Mingyu noticed it and said, "Just say it."

You sighed and set the food on the nightstand before turning to face him. "You know what happened to Wonwoo is not your fault, right?"

Mingyu shifted uncomfortably on your bed, his eyes wandering. There was a pregnant pause before he finally spoke. "I—I don't know. I—I just can't stop thinking and blaming myself."

You reached out and took his hand, feeling the tension in his grip. "Mingyu, none of us could have predicted what happened. Wonwoo made his choice to save everyone. He was a hero, and you did everything you could."

Mingyu's eyes met yours, filled with anguish. "But I should have been there. I should have done more."

"You were there, and you did everything you could," you insisted, squeezing his hand. "We all did. This job, it comes with risks, and we all knew that. Blaming yourself won't bring him back."

Mingyu sighed deeply, the weight of his guilt still pressing down on him. "I just wish things had been different."

"We all do," you whispered. "But we have to keep moving forward. For Wonwoo, for each other, and for the team."

Mingyu nodded slowly, his eyes still clouded with grief. "I know. It's just hard."

"It is," you agreed. "But we're in this together. We'll get through it, one step at a time."

He looked at you, his expression softening. "Thank you. For everything."

"Always," you replied, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Now, let's finish this food before it gets cold."

Mingyu managed a small smile, the first hint of light breaking through the darkness. "Okay. No green onions, just for you."

You chuckled, the sound a small but significant step toward healing. "Just for me."

*

It was nearly 3 a.m. when you and Mingyu decided to step out of the office together after a long night shift. You had just finished your leave and had fully recovered, while Mingyu had been dealing with everything related to Cubic over the past three months. Despite the challenges, things were looking up—especially now that he had you to come home to.

Everyone was thrilled when Mingyu finally revealed that you two were back together. Seungcheol, ever the perceptive leader, was the first to know. His response was typically Seungcheol: "I sensed that would happen." Meanwhile, the rest of the team, who had been watching Mingyu wander around like a lost soul since your separation, were ecstatic. They couldn't stop showering him with playful, embarrassing comments.

"My wish for today is that I won't see you running, on your first day back at work, catching some bastard," Mingyu said, a hint of a smile on his face as he placed an order for the two of you.

You both decided to stop at an old restaurant nearby your place. It was open 24 hours and served home-cooked meals—a usual go-to spot for you, Mingyu, and Wonwoo after night shifts. The owner, recognizing you both, was surprised to see you weren't alone this time.

"I'm so sorry for your friend," she said gently. "Here's a house service."

She handed you a plate of mandu, Wonwoo's favorite appetizer. Mingyu and you smiled gratefully at her before savoring the familiar taste.

"Shit, I didn't expect this atmosphere," Mingyu mumbled, hiding his face in his hands, still chewing on the mandu.

You reached out and touched his arm gently. "I know. It's... different without him."

Mingyu nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "This place... it was our spot."

You sighed, memories flooding back. "Yeah, it was. But I'm glad we came. It feels like he's still here with us, in a way."

Mingyu took a deep breath, lowering his hands to look at you. "I'm really glad you're back. I don't think I could have done this without you."

You smiled softly. "I'm glad to be back too. And we're going to get through this, together."

As the two of you sat there, sharing a meal and memories, the weight of the past few months began to lift. It wasn't easy, but you both knew that as long as you had each other, you could face anything the future held.

Once you two finished, Mingyu, who was facing the window, saw someone running while another followed. He cursed under his breath and lowered his head. You noticed his reaction and tried to look back.

"Promise me you won't get involved," he said, reminding you that your shift was over.

But then you saw Jihoon and Jisoo running in pursuit. You immediately stood up. "I have to go," you said, darting outside to follow your team members.

Mingyu sighed, pulling out his card to pay for the meal. The owner, noticing your sudden absence, approached with a curious look.

"Where's she? Did she leave already?" the owner asked.

Mingyu smiled wearily. "She's got a criminal to chase," he replied playfully before stepping out, scanning the area to find your whereabouts.

As you ran to catch up with Jihoon and Jisoo, the familiar adrenaline surged through your veins. Mingyu followed close behind, unable to ignore the pull of duty despite his earlier promise.

The chase was intense, but with Jihoon and Jisoo leading the way, you quickly caught up to the suspect. Jihoon tackled him to the ground while Jisoo expertly cuffed him. You arrived just in time to help them secure the scene.

"Nice work, team," you said, breathing heavily. Jihoon and Jisoo both gave you grateful nods, their expressions a mix of surprise and relief.

Just then, Mingyu arrived, slightly out of breath. "Nice job, everyone," he said, his tone a bit sharper than usual. Jihoon and Jisoo looked at him, then at you, confused.

"Wait, did Mingyu sunbae just follow you here?" Jihoon asked, raising an eyebrow.

You glanced at Mingyu, who looked slightly offended. "Yeah, we came together," you admitted.

Jisoo's eyes widened. "Together? Like, together-together?"

You nodded, a small smile forming. "Yeah, we're back together."

Jihoon and Jisoo exchanged surprised looks. "And you didn't think to tell us?" Jihoon teased, though there was genuine curiosity in his tone.

Mingyu crossed his arms, clearly still a bit annoyed. "Yeah, why didn't you tell them?" he asked you pointedly.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "I was going to, but there was never a good time. And then, well, this happened."

Jisoo grinned. "Well, it's about time! We've been wondering when you two would finally get back together."

Jihoon chuckled. "Yeah, the whole team has been rooting for you guys."

Mingyu's annoyance softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I guess we could've been more open about it," he admitted.

"Definitely," you agreed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "From now on, no more secrets."

As the night continued, the team settled back into their routine, the camaraderie and shared purpose stronger than ever. You and Mingyu were back together, and despite the challenges ahead, you knew you could face them as long as you had each other.

[vegan-peppermint]

Your Boyfriend's Bed

Pairing: Hoodie x Masky'sGF!Reader

Fandom: Marble Hornets

Genre: Smut MDNI

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Cheating, creampie, rough sx, P in V

Summary: Your boyfriend is a B, but his best friend's there to take your side.

Author's Note: After a three-year hiatus, I finally found the inspiration to write again—thanks to this incredible fanfiction. It sparked something in me. I can’t recommend it enough, so please show the creator some love. Their work is the reason I’m writing again after all this time. This fic is inspired by their masterpiece, so I highly encourage you to check it out first!

________________________________

More often than not, you were a collateral victim in your boyfriend and his friend’s fights. Tim and Brian were too close for your liking, they had a great co-dependency going on way before you came in the picture. If Brain was in a bad mood, so was Tim. If you got in a fight with Tim, Brian was giving you the silent treatment as well as taking sides without hesitation.

It was more than you bargained for, not realising getting Tim as a boyfriend meant taking responsibility for his grown-ass best friend as well. But you managed. With each month that passed in your relationship it was getting easier for you, to the point it was almost natural to consider them both in every action you took. 

Weirdly enough, you so much preferred for them to be mad at you instead of at each other. Whenever their balance wavered they started acting batshit crazy. Tim confessed some details about their ‘alternative’ life after- what, a year in you relationship? 

You didn’t fully grasp what he meant by their “alter egos” or their nighttime escapades, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to. You had your suspicions, of course. You weren’t blind. But as long as they didn’t outright spell it out for you, you could continue living in blissful ignorance. It was easier that way, and you convinced yourself that you were okay with it.

But today—today was different. Today, things had escalated to an entirely new level.

Tim was screaming at Brian, who was cloaked in that damned creepy hood that made him look so unsettling. Tim's anger seemed to grow by the second, and when “Hoodie” (as you suppose you should call him now) refused to react, it only fueled Tim’s rage.

You tried to calm him down, talk to him or something- anything.

A strained, guttural laugh escaped Tim, trembling with anger. He started explining to you how you do not even begin to understand what has happened, how you should just shut up and not get involved- his voice full with disdain, every sentence designed to belittle and assert his supposed superiority. 

Now you are not the one to get angry easily, but this time- this time something in you snapped. You were done being talked down to, done being made feel small or pathetic for just wanting some peace.

“No wonder he would not bother to have your back when you act like such a prick.”

“Oh, just shut up you bit-,” his words faltered as he caught himself mid-sentence, swallowing the insult faster than a politician trying to cover his tracks.

You cannot recreate what was spoken after that word for word, just that all hell broke loose. It was no longer a fight between Tim and Brian- no, it wasn’t just them anymore. It was you and Hoodie against Tim. You were screaming and throwing your every angry complaint you had been holding in for far too long. And Hoodie- Hoodie of all people- was backing your every word, every statement. However, Hoodie’s remark is what really sealed and shipped Tim’s whole spirit.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl so frustrated with her boyfriend in my life, Masky. Can only imagine you’re lacking in some aspects.”

The words hit harder than anything you had said. They were cold, calculated, and aimed straight at the core of Tim’s pride. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, Tim stood there, trembling with the weight of the accusation. His face twisted in disbelief, but the damage had already been done.

What followed between the two of them was pure madness. Shouting, shoving, items flying off shelves—everything seemed to spin out of control. Pushing, pulling, voices rising higher and higher, until the tension reached a breaking point. Tim’s eyes flickered with something darker, something unstable, before he turned to grab his mask and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls.

Well, this has happened this morning. You realise you could’ve done things differently, not taking sides or waiting for their fight to end before starting your own. That was your mistake. But leaving you hurt and angry with only Hoodie to comfort you was his.

________________________________

You were on all fours on your boyfriends bed, face buried in his pillows. Hoodie’s gloved hand pushed down on your back arching it more- your ass rising higher. 

Your clothes were littering the floor from the doorway to the edge of the bed, the cold air tickling your bare skin. Your eyes landed on the wardrobe’s mirror showing your helpless reflection with Hoodie’s tall frame behind you. He was completely dressed from his boots to the black mask that covered his face- he was glacial. 

His left hand- formerly on your back-  grabbed your hip harshly. He dragged the other painfully slow across your side- from ass, to waist and finally around your breast. You whimpered at the harsh feeling of his gloves palming your tits. 

“So sensitive…” he sighed. The nub was hardening against his touch making it easier for him to pinch or gently twist your nipple. 

You inhaled sharply trying to steady yourself but being met with Tim’s smell wasn’t helping. “H-Hodie...” you whined. 

His hands left your body and you heard his pants zipper opening. You tried to push yourself on your forearms, an instinct to turn around and see what you were dealing with, but before you could make a move a firm grip grabbed at the back of your neck. The sharp tug sent shivers down your spine as Hoodie yanked your head back. With a swift flick of his wrist, he let go of your nape only to have his fingers dart into your hair. His grip was certain and precise. “You’re way to eager to get on another man’s cock.” Your face was shoved once again back into the mattress. 

He was watching you excitedly as he brushed his tip across your folds- a groan escaping his lips when he felt how wet you already were. There was something primal about knowing you belonged to someone else yet he got to claim you as his right now. 

“Be quiet now,” he instructed sliding his cock inside you. You tried your best, you swore you did but he was so- big. Your eyes rolled upwards and your fingers gripped tightly at the sheets as you tried your best not to scream. His cock pressed deeper and deeper inside your cunt, stretching you in ways you did not even imagine possible. “You moan like a whore,” he growled with a final push. You felt your face blushing in shame- he talked to you in ways you would've never allowed your boyfriend, but on his lips those words felt so natural; almost like praises.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured, the sound gentle but insistent. You were already panting and crying just by the size of him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him being balls deep inside your aching cunt but your whines wouldn’t stop. He leaned over you, the rough material of his clothes scratching your soft skin. His hand reached to the side of your face, you thought he wanted to wipe away the tears that were sliding down your cheeks. He chuckled, his hand covering your mouth instead. “I’m gonna fuck you senseless, sweetheart.” 

________________________________

“Fuck, fuck- fuck! Feels so- Agh!~” 

You were screaming so fucking loudly. Your head was bumping to the ruthless rhythm of Hoodie’s thrusts. His fingers left red marks all over your ass, your hips- he was tugging at your body merciless, squeezing and scratching every inch of skin he could find. 

With trembling hands you tried your best to hold onto the bed frame as Hoodie was rutting into you from behind. His balls were hitting your swollen clit so hard- again and again and- “Am so close- so close, so close!”  Jaw was hanging open, you were gasping for air. 

“Fucking whore,” Hoodie sighed grabbing your neck with one hand, the other searching for your open mouth. “Bet he never fucked you this good, eh?” He gave a sinister chuckle as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You followed his cruel pull falling back on his torso. He was squeezing at the sides of you neck reminding you how little and vulnerable you are right now, “You only breath right now- scream and cry- you only feel this good because I allow you to.”

You whine taking him even deeper, his cock slaming your walls faster. His fingers explored your mouth pressing down your tongue, his grip thightend. 

“I could snap your neck right now, you know?”

You cry out loud in desperation, surrenedring control to him completely. Your eyes shut in anticipation, every muscle in you tightens-

“Say who you really belong to, who fucks you like a bitch in heat,” he snarls. “Say my name.”

And you do. Over and over again you do as your gummy walls squeeze around his length unbearably thight, waves of pleasure wash all over you. Hoodie’s hands allow you to gasp for air just for a second as they move under your arms grabbing you by the shoulders. His sudden body weight pushed you on your belly, fucking you deeper into the matress. His thrusts grow sloppy and desparate with no regard towards you- he was fucking you like a fleshlight.

“I’ll pump you so full of cum, MY cum-” Muffled sounds rose from deep in his chest, you were able to hear his clenched teeth through the sharp breaths he took. “Breed you so good you’ll be ruined- Fuck-” he whimpered. “Ruined for Tim,” his thrusts are brutal and harsh and- so goddamn overwhelming. 

His cum shots in hot strings, his member twitching inside your ruined cunt. His hands pull you closer and hips push further trying to get as deep as possible- deeper than Tim at least. 

You felt bad for comparing but the way he feels on top of you, in you- he fucked you in ways your boyfriend never could. When you tried to shift he grabbed a fistful of your hair forcing your head back. With lazy motions he started fucking his cum deeper.

“I didn’t tell you you could fucking move yet.”

//

This is my first fic since, what- 2021? Wow. Crazy.

I'll keep on writing my usual content as well, but creepypastas and gore-y stuff has always been something I wanted to write but never felt confident enough before. Anyways, feel free to request or send me any message, I came back from my hiatus! Never thought I'd say that lol.