#or was it black cherry?? idk its been years ago

[nightmare8-420]

grape and watermelon mikes hard and 6 bud lights heart shaped box,,,hggn…,

[midnightdonghyun]

Butterfly ｡˚ ° KDH

Pairings ｡˚ ° Donghyun x Daehwi

Characters ｡˚ ° Omega Donghyun (ab6ix), Alpha Daehwi (ab6ix)

AU ｡˚ ° Omegaverse

Genre ｡˚ ° character exploration, friends to ??? kinda lovers, childhood friends, forbidden romance kinda

Warnings ｡˚ ° None

Word count ｡˚ ° 3k

Summary ｡˚ ° Donghyun is not happy with his presentation and has withdrawn from the world and from the friend he met in the woods as a child. Seeing a reminder of said friend has him out in the forest again... and the two get to talking after a few years of separation.

Notes ｡˚ ° Not proof read lol. Sort of a plot in this one. Idk if i wanna keep this concept like canon? It's a fun dynamic to play with for sure and i like both their charcters but dunno if i should mate them or not

Masterlist Masterlist

Omegaverse Masterlist

Sometimes Donghyun would wake up and feel like he was suffocating on his own scent. He smelled like an isle of fruit, and everytime anyone commented on it he felt nothing but shame. It was a constant reminder. Anywhere he went, anything he touched, it smothered him. He picked up a pen and it was left with a coat of jelly. He smoothed the wrinkles in his pants and they were smeared with jello. He stopped touching other people years ago. He would feel so guilty leaving them with red and orange fruit stains.

A person can’t smell their own scent, but Donghyun was convinced otherwise. Why else would he wake up choking on perfumed air? Maybe it was in his head. Maybe it was his own fear. Or maybe it was the handful of plums the Lord so graciously handed him.

Donghyun didn’t want plums and oranges and strawberries. He prayed for tall glasses of salt water. But this is what he was given. This is what he had to live with.

Even now, staring at the black ceiling waiting until his breathing slowed he had to lie in a bed with apples and grapefruit.  

Donghyun always wondered why he was plagued with nightmares. Why he woke multiple times a night trembling and drenched in sweat. He can’t even remember what he dreamed about. If there were faces or demons, if they were bloody with guts or traumatic with lost family members. He just… can’t sleep.

He sat up. Imaginary cherries rolled across the warped wooden floor. 

What was the point of trying again? He would just stay awake. Everything was so fitful. Ghosts that he couldn’t remember in his sleep. The crushing weight of failure during the day. It’s like he was stuck in limbo. One foot in the Garden another in Hell. God even gave him a pomegranate to remind him. Look at what you did to man.

The floor was cold, and the light outside was blue and silver. A full moon.

Yellow and blue, Donghyun turned his desk lamp on. Its light was soft, but it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden warmth. His room was small. All of their rooms were small. That’s just how boarding school is, he supposed. Twin bed, desk, a dresser, a radiator, garbage can. 

He had been inside other rooms before. They had cork boards with memories bottled into tickets and pictures of their pets. They had framed photos of their parents, siblings, aunties and uncles. Some had old family crests. Some of them had gifts from home. Hand knitted blankets that smelled like their dams, small baskets of their favorite snacks they couldn’t in this small town tucked away deep in the pines.

Donghyun was an orphan. His walls had a calendar and a crucifix. His bed had a synthetic blanket that the school provided. His desk had textbooks and notebooks. 

He felt so very alone, and when he started smelling so sweet he understood why he was abandoned. Who would want this?

The few personal items he had weren’t much. There was a bible bound in leather with gold lettering. There was a rosary with white, pearly beads. There was Celery, a worn stuffed rabbit. And then there was Celery’s rosary, of course, currently wrapped around his plush neck. That one had plastic yellow beads. He had a few books of his own. A few outfits. 

It’s not like he needs much. It’s not a very holy thing to have so many possessions, anyway. Donghyun was content with his minimalistic room, but… maybe one family photo would be nice. 

He’ll have to repent for the jealousy later. 

But there was one more thing. His eyes fell on it standing all alone in the dim yellow light that washed over the desk. It was pushed a little farther back, a memory lost to a corner, school and bible studies had taken precedence. 

It was a butterfly. Blue. Carefully pinned inside its black frame. It was easy for Donghyun to see the care that went into it. It was a gift from someone special to someone special. Truth be told he hadn’t thought of this person in years.

They were kids when they met. Donghyun had crawled out of the window after one of his nightmares. Lost himself deep in the forest. He was a child then. So was the boy he met. Skinny. Pale. Donghyung was afraid of him at first. Some kind ghost. An evil spirit to entice him into sin or lead him into a lake and drown him. But he was just a boy. A strange boy unnaturally comfortable in the dark woods. 

He said his name was Daehwi. He said he was from a village farther up the mountain. He said his family thought of Donghyun’s boarding school as a religious cult. A place full of false prophets and lies. Donghyun was deeply offended at first, but it didn’t last long. They met nearly every night for a long time. He would go into the forest and talk to his friend under the moon. It didn’t matter that Daehwi thought Donghyun was living in religious bondage and following lies and it didn’t matter that Donghyun thought Daehwi was a heretic spreading harmful pagan ideas and living secluded in the woods like a freak. They just worked somehow, and they both learned not to question it much.

Things fall apart when you question.

Daehwi loved butterflies. He pinned their corpses and hung them around his cabin. That’s what he told Donghyun, who thought it was a little strange at first. But Daehwi gave him a gift. And Donghyun wasn’t one to question gifts. It was like a piece of his soul that he entrusted Donghyun with. 

Donghyun swayed, still looking at the little soul in the black frame. It was important to Daehwi. Why hadn’t he gone into the forest recently? Why did he stop years ago? If he went back would this small child still even be there? And what would he look like now?

Donghyun was moved to pull on proper pants, socks, shoes, and a jacket before he even really considered what he was doing. Sister Catherine said that sometimes the Lord works in hidden ways. That He pulls you into actions you would never take and when that happens all you have to do is trust Him and follow what He’s pulling you towards. Donghyun steeled his faith as he pulled his first floor window open. 

In a last thought he pocketed the white rosary, and then he swung his feet out his window and carefully lowered himself into the shrubs below.

It was a dream, or maybe a memory. He always conflated the two. 

The air had a bite to it. Needles swayed in the wind above his head. His feet worked from memory, and everything was bundled in the silver gauze spun by the moon herself. Donghyun started to fret. Would Daehwi even be there anymore? Had he forgotten too or was he bitter with Donghyun’s sudden abandonment? What would he say to him if he was there? He hoped they wouldn’t fight. 

The tree they met under was still there. Daehwi said it was a bigleaf maple. It was massive and covered in moss. Thick branches sprawled in all directions and seemed to encompass the entire sky when you stood under it. A leafy Atlas bearing the brunt of the stars on its bark. A few of those branches had collapsed recently, breaking off from the trunk and horrid angels. They were still attached by a few woody tendons, and the entire scene made Donghyun think that something had died in that tree, even though it remained alive above its dragging limbs. 

“Softwood rots in humid places like this.”

Donghyun started and turned towards the sudden voice. He appeared silently, as if he had melted from the moonlight. He did that the first time too, when Donghyun was lost and on the verge of tears. He stared for a second, a little awed at the moonghost standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets. 

He wasn’t very tall and nor had he bulked up. He was still fairly pale and his eyes still had that clear, freezing gleam. 

Donghyun didn’t know what to say. The words that came out were a little stupid, but what was he supposed to say?

“You’re still here.”

Daehwi narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t been. I gave up awhile ago.”

“Fated,” Donghyun took a step closer. “God wanted us here. Together.”

Daehwi cocked an eyebrow. “Your god, maybe.”

Donghyun shrugged, lowering himself into a squat. They used to sit here for ages. Neither one of them cared about how damp their pants got or how the cold would start burning into their bones. They would be too focused on each other. Too busy listening and talking. Daehwi always did all the talking back then. He would tell Donghyun about the stars they couldn’t see under the tree. The butterflies he liked the most. The saints and gods of his religion. How to slaughter a lamb ethically and painlessly. He was without God, but he was fascinating. 

He was silent now, regarding Donghyun cooly. Was he angry they stopped meeting? Had he waited in the forest night after night in vain? Donghyun had told him he might stop coming. That things were getting more and more complicated the more he thought about puberty. About presenting. About his future. Did he understand? 

“I like to think of Him as everyone’s god,” Donghyun said softly. 

Daehwi scoffed. “Of course you do.”

An owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Daehwi looked off in its direction as if he could watch it take flight from here. Even the air around him felt icy and tense. Donghyun traced his angular jawline, eyes moving from his small ear to the tip of his chin. He had grown well. Donghyun wondered about him. His identity, his education, what had happened in the few years they cut each other out. 

“My friend, talk to me.” Donghyun’s voice was almost a whisper in the cedars, tangling in the small vine maples and getting lost. “What have you been up to these days? What happened?”

Daehwi’s gaze turned back to him. Donghyun winced. It was dripping with something he couldn’t exactly put a word to. Apathy? Hatred? An unsanctioned marriage between the two? 

“I waited, for one thing. I waited for my friend to come back, but he ran off with my gift.”

Donghyun could only flinch and grimace. Gifts were so important, in both of their secluded little sects. Pieces of the soul. A promise from one person to another. The start of a dialogue between the two. He had ghosted a courtship.

“Of course then I realized we were kids mimicking things we knew nothing about and that it never meant anything in the first place. And that hurt for awhile. But you get over it eventually.” He shrugged stiffly looking off into the black distance again.

Donghyun was silent for a few moments. These things had to be navigated so carefully. He was crossing a river by jumping from one small rock to another. They were so wet… covered with wigs of algae and robes of fresh water. A quick sign of the cross and he had to jump.

“So much happened. So much I wanted to die.”

Daehwi’s head turned slowly back in Donghyun’s direction. His gaze was still pained, but a little softer. Donghyun wondered if he ever really got over it. 

“What happened?”

“I wanted to be a priest.”

“And why can’t you?”

Donghyun sighed and stood up. There were so many smells in the air. Moss. Water. Wet bark. The forest was alive with scent. It was easy to hide out here where the wind blew everything away so quickly you could barely catch a whiff of it. It’s not like a classroom behind stone walls where you could smell everyone in nearly every adjacent room. So he stepped closer, almost closing the gap between them, and pulled down his coat collar a little and baring his neck in a dramatic flair.

Fruit.

Daehwi’s nose twitched.

“They won’t let us in. Too… compromised. Prone to sin. Made to serve God in other ways.”

“An old stereotype.”

“Religions are full of that.”

Another awkward silence. Daehwi cast his gaze downwards. Donghyun wondered if apathy was his protection the way isolation was his. The wind was picking up, and the treetops were rocking now. Donghyun crossed his arms and shivered. The air started to smell a little bit like rain. 

“Do you hate me?” Daehwi’s tone was flat. Emotionless. 

“No… why would you say that?”

He shrugged, the leaf litter seemingly more interesting than Donghyun’s face. “I just thought you were supposed to.”

Donghyun didn’t know what to say and hugged himself tighter. 

“When you left, I guess I thought you were tired of hanging out with someone your people damn to hell.”

Donghyun kicked at the rotting leaves. He guessed it was true. Daehwi wasn’t even baptized. Where else would he go? But that’s not what the religion is about either. There are core tenets of understanding. Of love. Of forgiveness. Donghyun forgave Daehwi the day they met. Shouldn’t He have?

“Well… what do you think of me?”

Daehwi finally shot him another glance. “I think you’re misguided.”

Donghyun sighed again. 

The world around them grew steadily darker. Clouds were blowing in blocking the weak rays the moon could provide them. Donghyun began to dread the walk home. Daehwi was a always a mindreader. He smirked a little, finally lightening out of his pensive and emotionless mask. “Need me to walk you home? Gonna get lost again, little kid?”

“I’d appreciate it. I can’t see well.”

They walked in a single file line. Donghyun was cold and unsettled. He wasn’t sure where they stood. They were talking at least, but it didn’t feel like how it should. Daehwi was upset. Their religions were a wall. All Donghyun wanted to do was climb over it, but he was too scared to find a foothold. He was on one side of the river, and he was too busy fussing over the stones in the middle to even try to cross.

Stone walls and lights in the distance. Daehwi walked him all the way up to his open window, and the rain finally started to fall. 

Donghyun swayed, unsure, but desperate to extend some sort of olive branch. 

“It’s gonna pour.”

Daehwi grunted in agreement.

“You should… come inside.”

The smaller man studied him for a moment, eyes traveling across Donghyun’s facial features, scrutinizing. Looking for something. But God had other plans. The rain picked up quickly, going from a drizzle to something steadier with threats to let loose into a storm.

“Yeah,” Daehwi agreed, and they climbed into Donghyun’s dark room before they could be drenched. Donghyun shut the window. Daehwi loitered until Donghyun turned the desk lamp back on.

The shrubs outside rustled and rubbed against the wall. Daehwi sniffed.

“It’s bare in here.”

Donghyun shrugged. “What did you picture?”

“A nest at least. You’re such a fucking monk.”

Donghyun let himself laugh a little. “I was raised by nuns, I guess it shows.”

Donghyun could smell him in here. He smelled like a mass on the beach. Incense, pews, salt water, sand. It was infinitely better than fruit, but Donghyun briefly wondered what they smelled like together. Cranberries growing in the ocean? Pineapple on white sand? A hidden apple underneath a church pew?

The butterfly on his desk. Daehwi was running his fingers across the top of the frame. “This was my first one. It’s crooked. I’m better now.”

“Make me a new one.”

“If I do, you can’t leave again.”

Donghyun reached into his coat pocket, feeling the beads he stashed earlier. The rain outside persisted, running down the window like steady lanes of traffic. 

“Do you forgive me?” Donghyun asked gently. 

Daehwi turned to him, crossing his arms. “For leaving? If you don’t do it again.”

“You said we were kids.”

“We were. It didn’t mean anything except hurt feelings then. If we do it now,” he quirked a brow again. “It’s for real.”

Donghyun took a deep breath. “And you don’t… care? About me?”

A brief look of confusion crossed the younger man’s face before it was back to apathy. “What’d you mean?”

“That I… that I’m… like this.”

Daehwi’s brow creased. “If I cared I wouldn’t have even walked you home. Shouldn’t you be more worried about God?”

Donghyun shook his head. “I don’t think so.” 

Silence.

“I prayed to be a beta.”

“That sounds like you.”

“I wanted to preach so badly, Daehwi. I don’t know what to do now.”

Daehwi shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

Donghyun wasn’t even sure a courtship between them would work. It was a matter of religion. They weren’t converting each other. One wasn’t about to drop his belief entirely. They were both feverish with faith. And that made Donghyun afraid. But he pulled out the white rosary anyway and offered it to Daehwi.

“It’s important to me.”

Daehwi looked at it pointedly before slowly taking it from him. 

“And if I decide you aren’t for me?”

“Give it back to me.”

Daehwi nodded. “I’ll hold onto it for now.” He hesitated before stepping closer, twisting his head towards the shell of Donghyun’s ear. “You smell good, by the way.”

Donghyun shivered. 

Daehwi glanced outside. The rain weakened a little. The night was growing old. “It’s the full moon, Donghyun. I have things to attend to.”

Donghyun nodded. “Just come back?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. A heavy pause, each unsure of how to proceed around the other. Each made a little dizzy by the other’s scent, each afraid of spitting at their faith, each terrified of ending up alone. 

“Lend me an umbrella?”

A cloth torch passed from one hand to another. Sound and wind filled the room when the window open and then Donghyun was alone again, just as suddenly as he had left the room earlier that night.

Deep down he knew they wouldn’t last. He just hoped their fling would be worth it.

[youryanderedaddy]

Imagine a yandere ghost who is cursed is trapped in the doll, so one day a family came to live in his house, but what the ghost did not expect is to fall in love with the couple's eldest daughter. Maybe this yandere ghost (doll) use the younger brother to get closer to his beloved...

I didn't really include the doll, but the overall idea is here ;)

Tw: nsfw, non - con, underage sex? (The reader is meant to be around 18, her brother is 16 - 17, but the ghost is 100+ so idk), (technically) incest, ghosts, possession, possessive/obsessive behavior, slight parental neglect ig

You knew it was a mistake moving into the old house up the hill. You tried arguing with your parents so many times about the mansion being hidden in the woods, so far away from any civilization, bringing up the fact it hadn't been bought for the last 8 years despite the insanely low price or the news about the previous owners dying in their sleep just like that, from "natural causes" even though they were an young energetic couple. But of course your worries had been discarded so easily since your younger siblings were ecstatic, constantly talking about finally living in a castle, which was obviously pushing it too far, but kids will be kids.

Your family was big, consisting of your mother, father, two younger sisters and a brother currently in his late teens. Your siblings managed to take all the nice bright rooms on the second floor so you were forced to sleep in the attic. At first it didn't seem so bad, yes, the place was dark and dusty, the space was limited, but it was a quiet spot and there were many interesting things left there to explore and discover.

The first week you discovered a huge box full of old books, medals, notebooks and different souvenirs from all over the world. The second week you found a few paintings covered by a thin disheveled cloak, most of them depicting a pretty young boy with golden locks and sad green eyes, dresses in an expensive silky clothing resembling what was nowadays considered an elegant suit. You didn't pay it much mind yet the miserable longing gaze of the kid haunted your dreams in the following days.

During the third week you noticed that things were going missing one by one. First it was your favorite lipstick, then your new dress, and suddenly your favorite items were gone just like that. On top of all, almost as if fate was tickling your paranoia, you could hear certain sounds at night that were too distorted be natural and too human to belong to an animal. There were sobs, loud and tormented, sometimes you could make up a few words in a language no one spoke anymore. You slept less and less each night, you could swear you felt someone's lingering touch on your shoulders, them gently stroking your hair and even pressing their cold unmoving lips on yours. This was usually the point when you opened your eyes and screamed in fear only to realize you were alone in the room. There was nobody there.

Still you decided to speak with your parents about the creepy events taking place in the attic. Much to your dismay they brushed your concerns off once again, laughing softly and calling you a scaredy - cat, going as far as to joke around about your "oh so creative" imagination getting the best of you just like it did in your childhood. But this time you insisted on holding your ground, almost begging them to take action and help you. At the end your mother decided to let you sleep in your brother's room for a while until you calm down, and as embarrassing it was to share a room with a hormonal teen, it was better than constantly being on the edge and losing sleep. Or so you thought.

The first night you slept in Steve's room nothing out of the ordinary happened and for the first time in weeks you actually managed to rest. The second night was blissfully peaceful as well and you quickly fell into a deep dreamless slumber.

The third night started well, just like the previous two. Your brother was tired from studying all day and went to bed early, giving you the freedom to relax a little bit before following his example. You could read a book or try to revise for your exam tomorrow, maybe even call your bestfriend and finally let her know all about your new classmates and just how boring life in the village was. But in that moment all these suggestion sounded annoying, nothing was interesting enough to hold your interest for more than a minute. Thinking about what to do next, you suddenly became aware that your body was tense and tired, but your mind was restless. After all you hadn't had time for self - care between the paranoia episodes and the fear, maybe it was finally time to do something nice and therapeutic for yourself.

You snatched a quick look at Steve and he was sleeping soundly, snoring from time to time, his usually angry face now calm and childlike. Making sure there was no one in the room awake, you finally slipped a hand down your pajama bottom until you felt the soft fabric of your panties. You closed your eyes and run a finger up and down your clothed sex, following the line of your slit. Your pussy throbbed at the sudden contact, the lack of pleasure in the last few weeks making it sensitive to the touch. You pushed your underwear lower so it hanged around your legs, and shoved one finger into your warm hole, enjoy the way your walls clenched around the digit. You flicked your clit gently, feeling it swell from the arousal, rubbing slow circles and pressing on your sweet spot every once in a while.

Your free hand went to your breasts, bare under the comfy oversized shirt, and awoke the cherry nipples with subtle pinches causing them to harden. You couldn't help but moan quietly as you decreased the pace of which you teased your hole and added a second finger in your pussy, fucking yourself on it. You were so focused on chasing your pleasure you didn't even notice the hand on your thigh pulling your own away from your excited throbbing core and replacing it with a big hard cock. Only once its head reached your tight entrance and pressed on it did your mind register the atrocious size difference. Your words stilled in your throat, the sudden panic rising in your chest, making your vision blurry and your cheeks rosy pink. You finally opened your eyes, your heart racing at the image of your younger brother towering above you with his member so close to entering your heat.

"Steve, what are you doing?" You whispered as you tried to squirm away from the boy, but he was quicker in pinning your wrists above your head in a deadlock. When did the male become so strong? Just yesterday he would ask you to open up his water bottle and help him with his math homework and now he was doing this...

"My name is Henry, my love." The voice was different from your brother's, lower and huskier, gentler in a way. You narrowed your eyes and observed the teenager's face, gasping as you noticed that his eyes had changed from black to green, yet all his other features had stayed stayed the same. You wanted to ask so many questions - who is Henry, why were your sibling's eyes and voice different from before - but you were quickly shut by one stern gaze. "I used to live here 80 years ago." The stranger started off with an unexpectedly soft tone as his grip on your wrists loosened. "I'm a ghost. I possessed your brother." He confessed calmly while you watched his pink lips part slightly with each breath as if you were in a trance before you found the strength to break your silence.

"Why are doing this to me? Why did you take my brother's body?" You questioned him manically, feeling like a confused little lamb sent to the slaughter, trembling and stuttering in front of a knife. Henry simply chuckled at your adorable dumbfounded expression and lowered his torso until his face was mere inches away from yours and you could feel his ice - cold breath on your warm red cheek. "Because I love you, darling." The ghost replied with a confident smirk that looked so weird and unnatural on the younger boy's face you almost gagged. Before you had the chance to say anything, he continued. "I've been wanting you for a while now, little girl. And with this body I can finally have you all to myself." You opened your mouth in a protest but your screams were easily muffled by a harsh kiss and a wet tongue down your throat. Next thing you knew the man had pushed your brother's manhood into your wet sloppy cunt in one sharp thurst and in your despair you had yelled for help once again, the ghost taking your whimpers greedily and shushing them away. Struggling was pointless.

In the next hour you were reduced to a sweaty whimpering mess of pain and arousal, fear and pleasure. The ghost was fucking you in a fast brutal pace while his free hand was playing with your clit, bringing you so damn close but never enough to send you over the edge. You were crying and your whole body was aching, your tits red from the rough manhandlind, your lips bruised and swollen from the rough kisses and bites. There were purple hickeys adorning your neck, belly and thighs and you went quiet in embarrassment every time you wondered how you would be able to hide them the next day.

"Please, whoever you are, let me come, I'm begging you." You pleaded desperately as you arched your back to meet the next couple of deep thrusts. Your cheeks were wet with tears and you could even taste the bitter salty flavor in your mouth mixed with your own drool and saliva. Upon hearing your meek pleas the man mercifully started hitting your cervix with each shove until his moves became sharp and quick, targeting your g-spot. You were so close you could feel your abdomen clench and tighten from the tingling sensitations. "Please..." You uttered weakly again, making doe eyes at your brother.

"Say you love me. Tie your soul to mine forever and I'll give you exactly what you want, beloved." Henry basically growled in your ear as he groped your breasts, squizing lightly the soft flesh. Your mind was so hazy and clouded you weren't sure how to respond so you just repeated the words easiest to grasp. "Love... you... forever, ngggh..." You muttered under your breath before moaning wantonly when the forceful thrusts finally sent you over the edge and your pussy clamped down in a big, satisfying orgasm. Your bliss was short - lived because soon the ghost was pounding into you again and again, keeping you too tired to move, struggle or even speak properly besides whimpering every once in a while. The rest of the night was a blur but eventually you fell asleep from the exhausting and the pleasure.

You woke up sore, your eyes red and puffy, your muscles tense and unnatentive. You rushed to look at your brother, but the teenager was sleeping just as peacefully as he did eight hours ago. One side of you was more than glad to know everything that had happened was simply a bad, terrible dream, while the other one still felt extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. You couldn't bear staying in the room any longer so you got dressed and went into the hall. Everyone else was still asleep and you felt as restless as if you hadn't caught a blink at all. You finally gave in to your paranoia and climbed the stars leading to the third floor.

You knelt on the ground where you had found the beautiful paintings. Those green eyes from your dream seemed way too familiar for it to be a coincidence. When you finally got a hold of your favorite piece, the one with the sad young boy, you had to cover your mouth to suppress the shock. There wasn't an aristocrat with golden locks on the picture anymore.

Now the one trapped in the painting was none other than you own brother, Steve. Instead of misery and pain in mysterious blue eyes, there was only terror in his tormented black ones. You screamed for the last time before you dropped the picture on the ground and ran away from the attic, the tears streaming down your face, but unfortunately, there was no escape from the restless dead souls.

[vinetae]

Okay, so not long ago I've been having weird dreams and visions come true. Mainly about our seven boys. (But I also saw TXT's gfs OR they could've been a new group HYBE is gunna release), So I thought long and hard on if I should share this with everyone and I decided to, but I will leave out some details for 'personal' reasons and safety measures (just incase these do come true.) I also record my dreams and visions cause I have bad memory lol. Anything marked with an * is my own opinion and prediction. This is NOT a tarot reading, just sharing of dream interpretations.

In one of my dreams about a year ago, I saw all of the BTS members' spouses and children. So, let's go down the line, she'll we?

They had been going to jin's room/ apartment to surprise him with a birthday cake and all of the spouses and children tagged along too.

The year seemed to be between 2028-2030.

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Namjoon:

Children: pretty sure i saw a little girl. Blondish brown hair? Very small. Looked to be about 3-4 years of age.

Spouse: blonde, straight hair, blueish green eyes, *I've always gotten "lilly" vibes from him*, she looked like how you would think his spouse would be. Around 5'6? A little taller? I didn't get a good glimpse. She looked to be around 25-30?

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Seokjin: sadly, I saw no children/spouse. (Except-)

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Yoongi: I saw him with one boy and one girl. 4 and 6 maybe? The boy had black hair, and the daughter had blondish brown hair.

Spouse: blonde. Very vivid. A little past the shoulders? Pale skin and greenish eyes? I never really get a good look because its blurry, and all I see is colors. 23-25.

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Hoseok: nope. No kids either.

Spouse: I saw a blonde (dont ask what's up with all the blondes idk lmao), she for sure had green eyes and looked around 5'5? She looked very intense, but sweet at the same time. pretty sure she had on a navy blue top with black leather pants? She liked to wear white a lot lol. DON'T @ ME she looked to be 19-21.

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Jimin: in an earlier dream, I had seen him with his father going on a camping trip together, and jimin had brought his son (pretty sure he had a son out of wedlock), and jimin's dad had just said "oh wow jimin look at you with him. I guess you got all that practice with helping take care of your brother". His father actually said the child's name, but I had woken up. All I got was 'ji-' *I'm getting a feeling of ji-woo*.

(And in a different dream, he had told me his ex cheated on him back in 2018 in the LY era, and I saw how she looked. She was a model of some sort, but I will not reveal facial features because if she IS real, I don't need ya'll tormenting her with something that might not have even happened, k?)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Taehyung: I'm pretty sure he adopted two little twin girls, they're adorable lmao.

Spouse: i- don't actually remember. Maybe she just wasn't in any of them.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jungkook: I didn't see any kids.

Spouse: jet black hair, ear length? I'll try to put pics up to show what they most looked like. Cherry red plumpish lips (but thin ya know?). I think I saw her driving a motorcycle. Lmao ok- sshe looked to be around 23-25.

* Current Relationship/Energies? *

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Namjoon

CR: MAYBE I never really saw anyone but I'm thinking so-

energy: Vibin.

Seokjin

energy: Just chilling. wanting to make ARMYs proud so they're working really hard.

CR: Maybe? I saw a short red-brownish hair girl-

Yoongi

Energy: Vibin along side with namjoon. two bros bro-in' it out😎

CR: no. I didn't see anything but there's always a possiblity.

Hoseok

energy: OKAY Y'ALL HOBI AIN'T AS HAPPY ALL THE TIME AS WE THINK. he's pretty chill, and is just focusing on his work rn.

CR: no? this one is hard-

Jimin

energy: this man- he needs help istg. everytime I try to get a sense of what he's feeling it's like it just blocks me off. I did sit quietly for a while tho, and asked what he was going through. I saw a bed with red lights (apparently laying down facing the celing) a bottle of some sort (either soju or wine) and a skull. yeah. uhhh ANYWAYS-

CR: nope. (recently broken up maybe? that's the vibe i get)

Taehyung

energy: Tae is doing..okay? hes defiantly reverted back to being an introvert (he posted that his MBTI changed from ENFP-T to INFP)

CR: lol no I didn't see anything.

Jungkook

jungkook is going through his rebellious stage (we all kinda figured cause of his tattoos and pericings) but other than that he seems happy ig?

CR: a lot of them are focusing on themselves but no to this lil bunnie.

Ight have fun with this information, kids.Dm if you want a pt.2

Peace 😎✌

[enmy-writes]

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

_____________________________________________________________________

They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off;  barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body. 

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff. 

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest. 

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

[morifinwes]

Lauraa I finished all the fics, apart from decay (currently reading that now) and I love it sm! Especially the lip gloss one lmao the whole thing was so hilarious to me XD but also like the concept of lwj wearing lipgloss is >>> -yibobibo

@yibobibo then i'm going to rec you some more!! the lip gloss one was !!!!! ajsksks yes!! lwj wearing lipgloss is just so!! good!!

modern

this one is the painful one i talked about:

visitations by var_abelasan (12K, wip, divorced wangxian, post divorce, most of this is angst, uhm lowkey don't but also do want wangxian to end up together, it's messy, the jiangs & lans are shitty, wwx was in prison (brief mentions of that but it's kind of a major plot point), mxy & xy are the little brothers he never wanted but wwx picked them up anyways)

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry." 

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine. 

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

 

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

please don't let me be misunderstood by sysrae (3K, partly deaf!wwx, lwj notices, nobody else does though, idk wwx is like made out of fucking steel or some shit)

Lan Wangji has known Wei Ying for a fortnight, the first time he sees him get hit by a car.

light by redkosmos (10K, blind!lwj, which causes angst, but they manage it, best friends to lovers, fluff, lwj being insecure and feeling like a burden, college au kind of? but it doesn't matter too much)

The realization slowly dawns on him.

He can never again see the brightness of Wei Ying's eyes, the way they crescent when he smiles, never again see the rich black of his hair, the mess of it in the early mornings, never again see the beautiful tan of his skin, the beauty of the scars and marks adorned on it, how he wears his clothes, how it hugs his frame beautifully, how he looks like he's adorably swimming in cloth when he wears Lan Zhan's, and-

(Lan Zhan loses his vision in a car accident and learns to cope with it.)

don't leave me by trippinonskies (19K, brief very brief mention of lwj cheating, he doesn't but wwx is afraid lwj is cheating on him or just wants to break up with him, (he doesn't), marriage proposal, lwj acting distant = wwx's insecurities show up, fluff, angst and comfort)

Lan Zhan! Where are you lost today?” Wei Wuxian finally asks, at the end of his patience.

Lan Zhan looks a little guilty as he looks at Wei Wuxian, “Sorry, just a lot of work to deal with.”

Lie.

If there is one thing Lan Zhan can’t do, it’s lying. Especially to Wei Wuxian. But he doesn’t question Lan Zhan. He just accepts the reply, too scared to know that he is right. Too scared to know the truth.

// or where Lan Zhan is too hung up in planning the perfect proposal and ends up accidently ignoring Wei Wuxian making the other think that he wants to break up //

want you closer by xiaobucephalus ((3K, HORSES, only in the background tho, but wwx is an equestrian vet, which is so fucking valid bro, the lans own horses, a sick bunny, lwj the bunny parent!, super cute, dark bay throughoutbred chenqing is honestly so valid)

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Don’t thank me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughed again, his voice warming the chill of fear that had settled in his chest. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to get into your hutch for a while anyway.”

safe in your thoughts by anonymous (20K, it's a cherry magic au???? (i haven't watched it, but you have i think?), horny lwj but only for wwx (always for wwx))

Wei Wuxian learns three very important things on the night of his twenty-seventh birthday.

One, that Lan Wangji is ridiculously funny, which Wei Wuxian had known before but what Wei Wuxain hadn’t expected was Lan Wangji to be funny at his brother’s expense.

Two, that Wei Wuxian had finally gone mad, absolutely mental at the ripe age of twenty seven because nothing else would explain the third thing he had learnt.

Third, and the most unbelievable of the lot, that Lan Wangji wants to fuck him.

iura by yoo_im_finally_writing (1K, only added bcs op is right and wwx would've the cutest german accent, it's more fun if you understand german so hit me up if you want translations for the german sentences)

Wei Ying calls in the middle of the night to talk about German law, and Lan Zhan tries very hard not to fall asleep. Or at least, not to let Wei Ying notice he's falling asleep. (As best friends do.)

breathe in the air, the last of its kind by wereworm / @neverdoingmuch (27K, getting together, jealous!lwj, but also kind of supportive, brief mention of cheating bcs of miscommunication, no actual cheating tho, college au, lwj pov)

Following Wei Ying’s line of sight, Lan Wangji can barely prevent a smile from crossing his lips when he sees the short row of rabbit statuettes placed at the front of the display. Silver, with bright gems for eyes, they look elegant yet lively and animated.

“A-Yuan would love one of those,” Wei Ying murmurs, almost as if to himself.

Lan Wangji frowns; the rabbits, while cute, don’t seem like a suitable gift for Wei Ying’s A-Yuan.

...

It’s only when he glances back at the rabbits and notices what has been placed on display behind them, that the pieces fall into place. They’re engagement rings, there’s no doubt about it. Lan Wangji feels his heart sink – Wei Ying isn’t just dating A-Yuan, he wants to propose to him.

Or: the five times Lan Wangji thinks that A-Yuan is Wei Ying’s boyfriend and the one time he learns the truth.

paint smears on sunny days by snowshadowao3 / @angstsexual (53K, getting together, art teacher!wwx, single parent!lwj, they're rich if i remember right, wwx & lwj are both good with kids!!!, this is so good actually, fluff)

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

no bunny compares by gusucloudbunny (4K, god this is cute, fluff)

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cornered his friend one week before his birthday. “If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow at Wei Wuxian, not exactly sure how to answer that question in a truthful manner that didn’t involve confessing his undying love for his best friend.

Wei Wuxian is on a mission to get Lan Wangji the perfect gift for his birthday. What Wei Wuxian doesn't know is that the only thing Lan Wangji truly wants is him.

wei wuxian's week of realizing things by photojenny (12K, i have read this multiple times, i always forget what happens, idk why but my notes say it's good, the tags say drunkji makes an appearance and i'm always up for that)

"Lan Zhan, do you like Mianmian?" asked Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji blinked, and stared. It was not the first time Lan Wangji had questioned the perceptiveness of the boy he had a crush on. Wei Wuxian had been smart in the class they had taken together. Yet time and time again, Wei Wuxian had tested the old wisdom that there are no stupid questions.

---

Lan Wangji must figure out how to confess when Wei Wuxian is the most oblivious person he's ever met.

are you my wisdom tooth? because i'd like to take you out by yellowcarnations (1K, crack, fluff, lwj stop flirting with a stranger, even if he is your husband, drunkji but make it to max level)

Lan Zhan wakes up and he has no idea where he is.

There are bright lights and his jaw hurts, he doesn't who this man next to his bed is but oh he might be in love, maybe, probably, definitely.

–

based off that guy-forgets-who-his-wife-is-and-hits-on-her vid but its wangxian.

beep! goes his heart by wearing_tearing (3K, fluff, lwj is like "he, he likes me right? he likes me" and everyone is like "yes, yes he does")

“Wei Ying’s heart monitor,” Lan Wangji starts.

Wen Qing blinks at him. “Yes?”

“It beeps.”

“That’s… what they generally do, yes.”

“The beeps change,” Lan Wangji continues, “when others are around.”

*

Wei Ying’s heart only sings for Lan Wangji.

canon

obedient and bellicose by thunderwear (19K, lwj is cursed by the lan elders, they notice too late, fix-it fic kind of?, lqr being a good uncle and lxc is a good brother, wwx accidentally uses the curse but he doesn't know about it)

It took Lan Wangji a long time to realize he was cursed. Too long really, anyone else would have noticed so much sooner. The problem was, he liked following the rules.

Ella Enchanted AU that no one needed but I wanted.

hello my old heart, how have you been? by ravenditefairylights (10K, amnesia, fluff, wwx taking care of lwj, so much fluff and softness, angst too but not that much)

The issue is, Lan Wangji brings his thoughts back before they stray too far, that it is impossible for someone to be in his bed, unless Lan Wangji himself invited them. He has not. He would remember doing so, and besides, all his night clothes are still on and there is no headache to imply that he was inebriated last night. No, the situation is simple.

There is someone in Lan Wangji’s bed. It is impossible for anyone to be in Lan Wangji’s bed, and yet that doesn’t seem to have stopped the stranger.

or lan wangji wakes up, and wei ying is there. he doesn't understand how or why, and he can understand even less why his hallucination of wei ying is so insistent on bathing him, and braiding his hair, on holding him and fixing his clothes. why the hallucination of wei ying seems so happy to see him.

teach me the way by likeafox (58K, rogue cultivator!wwx, horny wangxian, lwj wants wwx to teach him how to be a good lover, ....wwx is a virgin, the porn is the plot, but there's less of it than i thought)

"I do not wish to leave my future spouse… dissatisfied with my intimate knowledge,” Lan Zhan says, very seriously. “I am hoping to find an instructor, to better prepare myself for such matters."

Wei Ying feels his mouth drop open. He's pretty sure the Second Jade of Lan just told him he's a virgin who wants to learn how to do sex good.

Rogue Cultivator Wei Wuxian is the stuff of local legends. Some of those legends are even true! The ones about his tremendous experience in bed, on the other hand, are not so true. Which becomes a problem when Lan Wangji, on the verge of an arranged marriage and worried he won’t know how to please his future spouse, enlists Wei Ying's help to teach him the art of love-making. Wei Ying's great at improvisation, though, and is pretty sure he's got this sex mentor thing under control. What could possibly go wrong

other aus

of god: my love unholy by tunnelodfawn (3K, tw blood / war, dark!lwj, god!wwx, kind of poetry)

Lan Zhan takes everything as a sign from his god. The blood staining his fingertips—a holy anointment. He sanctifies himself through blood. The strings of his guqin gleam red in the sun—a divine blessing. This is an instrument of destruction. A single note—a cry of power—and in this note the voice of his god unravels the earthly threads tethering man to earth.

The Yiling Patriarch blesses Lan Zhan with war. Wei Wuxian blesses Lan Zhan with agility. Wei Ying blesses Lan Zhan with love.

The base of the Yiling Patriarch’s shrine is the home of Lan Zhan’s knees. He worships. There is something of the blasphemous and the unholy in his prayers. He prays not for victory but for the sight of Wei Ying. Bless me with your presence, he begs.

Or, wherein, Lan Zhan bridges the gap between the mortal and the divine—the worshipper and the god—with blood.

the river and the sea by sasamelons / @sasamelons (7K, soulmate au, arranged marriage (wangxian with each other), they're both kind of dumb but i love it)

Lan Wangji gritted his teeth, wishing to just be left alone. "I am looking for my soulmate," he ground out.

"Oh."

It took Lan Wangji a few moments to realize that Wei Wuxian had stopped following him. When he looked back, the other boy seemed to be frozen to the spot, eyes wide and lips still parted. He quickly looked away when he saw Lan Wangji looking back. "I see. Well, have a good trip!"

--

At six years old, Lan Zhan met his soulmate on the streets of Yiling and promptly lost him again.

At sixteen years old, Lan Wangji met his betrothed and was determined not to like him.

[dracos-eternity]

Cookies and Kids-Sirius Black x Reader

Summary-Short, sweet, simple, Siri fluff

Warnings-Cursing?, FLUFFFFFF

Idk man its just a scenario in my head

@siriusblackasks​ you like this one? (:

(Also, this is farther into the future where a few rules have changed so the things they do in this story won’t get them in trouble for underage magic)

-------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N P.O.V.

“Sirius, Castor, Pollux where are you?” I yell, walking into my house.

“Kitchen!” They all respond simultaneously. 

“Kitchen, why are you three in the-” My words are cut short as I walk into the kitchen, Sirius giggling while Pollux cleans batter off his face, Castor pulling it out of his hair while Sirius has a toothy grin plastered to his face, watching the boys.

“We made you cookies.” Sirius speaks. I smile at them, hugging the twins and kissing Sirius. 

“They smell great, but the kitchen is a mess, guys.” I giggle, rolling my eyes when Pollux wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“Boys, why don’t you clean up and then show mom your new trick you learned today while I clean the kitchen.” The boys quickly run off, leaving Siri and me to clean.

“So, how was your day, other than the absolutely delicious smelling cookies you baked for me.” I question, looking at Sirius, giggling as I wipe the batter off the tip of his nose.

“Great, the boys and I had so much fun.” He waves his wand around, cleaning the kitchen up.

“I’m glad.” I hug him, walking into the living when we hear the boys running down the stairs.

“Mom, mom, look!” Pollux yells. I look over as he transforms into a pitbull, his tail wagging in constant patterns.

“Wow!” I smile down at the boy, Castor grabbing my attention with a bark, a small collie appearing where he stood moments ago.

“I taught them that, we’ve been working for a few months. I figured since I learned around the age of fifteen that they should to.” Sirius speaks, proudly smiling. The boys transform back, sitting on the couch. 

“Mom, what movie did you bring home today?” Pollux questions.

“I brought home a movie called ‘The Outsiders,’ one of my all time favorites.“ I respond.

“Ahh, I believe you made me watch that in the early years of us dating.” Sirius looks over the case of the movie.

“Indeed I did, made you listen to me read the book too.” He scoffs at the thought playfully, quickly smiling up at me as he passes the movie to Pollux. Pollux quickly puts the movie, climbing onto the couch with us.

The scene where Dallas is bothering Cherry and Marcia at the drive in appears and the Castor speaks, his words causing concerned looks to paint both Sirius and I’s faces.

“Mom, why’d you give us such weird names.” He looks up at us with hurt, his brother looking at us the same way.

“Honey, we gave you names with meaning.” I speak, looking over at Siri for help.

“Boys, your named after the twin stars in the constellation Gemini.” He speaks up, the boys faces falling into an understanding expression.

“Oh, makes sense.” They say. The boys sit one each side of us, quickly falling asleep. My head rests on Sirius’ shoulder as he smiles down as Castor, simply beaming with pride at the two boys.

“I’m so happy I met you.” I whisper kissing his cheek. 

“And I’m so happy I met you.” He replies, kissing my lips. I take a cookie off the plate in front of us, biting into it as I finish the movie with Sirius.

[hansoulo]

your heart wears night armor

part 9 of ain’t it a gentle sound (the rolling in the graves)

pairing: Horacio Carrillo/f!Reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: cursing, discussions canon-typical violence and blood, descriptions of religion, catholic imagery, and praying (it’s 2 paragraphs before the first break and you can just scroll past if you’re uncomfortable/don’t care to read it) uhh…, i think that’s it?? light angst but we kinda been knew at this point

gif credit: my soulmate @pascalplease​

A/N:  @1zashreena1 i owe u and that first day of school ask my life god bless 🙏🙏 set in like 1991 idk time isn’t real

masterlist carrd

Domesticity during war is a curious thing. You’d left your old apartment years ago and a man had moved in beside you, in your new, promoted house, with his young wife and her stomach swollen by pregnancy. You’d smiled and been neighborly. Teased about play-dates and dinner parties and tight-lipped husbands, the way you used to. Had actually gone to a dinner party and admired their blue-edged china, pouring out the woman’s sparkling water as Isabella grabbed at your wrists.

She’d moved out, alone save for her child and one gifted medal. He was very brave, apparently.

You weren’t surprised when a new couple came by a few months later.

So you lived your life, a good life, a happy one, shielded by shoulders and smiles and rough-hewn hands clasped in prayer. Receiving the good favor of a virgin mother, wearing a painted clay veil and balming men’s conscience. Good Catholic boys, who died in the name of a “something” and looked Saint Peter in the eyes when they met him again. Your good, Catholic man. Rosaries and holy water. Unholy blood. Stained cherry glass and crimson hands. Prayers and prayers and prayers, made by mothers and fathers and wives.

You had prayed, once. Had knelt at an altar and let the wood dig into your knees like a penance for a sin you didn’t remember committing but felt guilty for enjoying anyhow. You pleaded for one promise to keep him safe and thanked a nameless saint for your fortune, sated when you heard the slap of your sandals on marble and the echo of all your thoughts in the high, vaulted ceilings.

Guilt is strange. “Healing” in quotation marks is strange. You always hated the way people phrased it, as if one day you’d arrive someplace and get a lacquered button pinned to your shirt pocket reading a congratulations. Dr. Reyes hated it, too, and you’d smiled when she made some long-winded metaphor about journeys and life and cat posters. For now you were content with walking, one hand held and one hand holding, with white-knuckled palm promises and the warm, curled grasp of a child.

⫸ ——— ⫷

You gripped the car keys, feeling them dig into your palm as you tried to brush off the hand on the doorknob. “Horacio,” you let out, frazzled with all the rush of a January morning, anxious and tired from the previous day’s shift. You didn’t need to work today though, thank god . “I can take my own damn daughter to her first day of school.”

His hand left the door, only to snake loosely around your waist. When you only sighed, not pulling away, a rough thumb came to rub at the curve of your jaw and bid your gaze to meet his. She has your eyes, you’d once said. Dark and sloping, edged by black lashes. Bright. Gentle.

“No,” he said, apologetic but resolute.  “You can’t.”

“I can,” you repeated weakly to yourself, your own hand starting to loosen its hold around the cold rings of metal. “Horacio,” you whispered, shaking your head as his arms wrapped a bit tighter. “The guards, the- the guns. They scare her.”

His brows knitted together while you spoke, quiet as to not alarm Isabella - now a few months shy of six - sitting by the kitchen counter in a blue school skirt. She didn’t look up from her the contents of her backpack, so you continued. “I’m just- I’m tired, I guess,” you admitted with a small hitch in your voice, examining the angry red indents left in your palms. You let him shift you until you faced away from the door, tucked closer into his chest, and reached to fiddle with the silver buttons of his uniform while you spoke.“It’s bad enough that they’re always outside.”

You looked up to see Isabella clambering off of her chair with a scrape of its legs against your kitchen tiles. It’s first grade, she’d reminded you the night before in hurried Spanish while you brushed her hair, chiding her to sit still. She’d set out her uniform carefully, insisting on brightly colored hair clips and two tight braids. We can’t be late.

Your now-husband squeezed your shoulders and his lips were pursed - not in annoyance, but in concern. “Mi amor,” Horacio began, cupping the base of your neck and squeezing softly. Mi amor, he called you. A love. His love. Saccharine, maybe, to foreign ears but to him, to him it was doctrine.  You let out a shallow breath. “It’s too dangerous without them,” Horacio reminded you, the rough pad of his thumb tracing over your lips. “You know that.”

You closed your eyes, nodding into the lingering kiss left on your forehead. “Yeah, I know.” Smoothing away the pretend lint on his collar, you pressed your nose to his jaw before moving to step away, inhaling the soft scent of laundry and sandalwood soap. The arms around you loosened to let you go. “Doesn’t mean I like it though,” you mumbled, attempting petulance but failing when another kiss was placed on your cheek.

“We’ll be with her,” Horacio reminded you, his voice placating in your ear. “And it’s just Trujillo,” he assured. You perked up at the name and laughed when Isabella did likewise, her steps towards the both of you quick and echoing her new school shoes.

“Is he coming?” she asked, repeating the question in English and then Spanish again when neither of you answered quickly enough for her liking. Bouncing on the balls of her heels, Isabella tugged on the fabric of your pants with an urgency that seemed unfit for the slightness of her body. “Is he here? Is he going to drive us?”

You reached to smooth down the loose curls escaping from her braids and looked back behind you for confirmation, pleased to report in the affirmative when Horacio nodded.

She didn’t wait much longer for you to open the door, bounding down your front steps to meet the man now standing by a shelled vehicle, a tanned hand resting on the holster at his hip.

“The Jeep?” you asked, incredulous.

Horacio shrugged. “It’s bulletproof.”

“Right,” you answered slowly, watching Trujillo bend down to give the girl a hug. “And they couldn’t bulletproof, say, a minivan?” Horacio only chuckled, walking you down to the car, and you grew more serious.  “Thank you, though. For bringing him, and not the… cavalry, I guess.”

In sunlight, Horacio's eyes were lighter - edged by shadowed rings but pooling in deep, fractured amber. Apologetic. “It’s the least I could do,” he said.

Isabella glanced back towards the both of you and you caught the flash of a cellophane candy wrapper, accompanied by a no le digas a tu mamá when Trujillo slipped it in her pocket. Waving at you with an impish smile, the officer slid into the passenger seat.

“I heard that,” you called out. He raised his eyebrows, declaring his innocence, and said nothing more.

The weather was slow with its languid breezes, blanketing everything in the soft smell of baked clay and clear mountain air. In the distance, the first swells of morning traffic began their course.

Isabella climbed into the car (or tank, depending on who you asked) and helped you buckle her seatbelt. When you turned to meet the back of the man behind you,  you heard the girl plead, “Don’t kiss.”

When you asked why, she wrinkled her nose. “It’s gross.”

“You see us kiss all the time,” you replied, handing her her backpack. Horacio’s hand came to pass gently along your waist, a quiet reminder of the openness of the road you now stood on.

Isabella shook her head, the dark braids tumbling beside her rounded cheeks. “It’s still gross.”

“How ‘bout you close your eyes,” you offered, leaning out of the car and hearing your husband’s quiet laugh. Catching Trujillo’s face in the reflection of the side mirrors, you grinned. “I can count down if you want.”

“Promise?” Isabella asked, raising her hands to cover her face.

“Promise,” you answered. “Are they closed? Good, okay on three. Ready? One… two… thr-” but your count was muffled, turning into a soft mmph by a pressing mouth. Horacio’s hands curling around the Jeep doors as you reached to steady yourself on his shoulders. The kiss was chaste, quick and barely a peck, but you still smiled when he pulled away.

Running your tongue along your front teeth, you could taste the slow dilution of orange juice.  “You can open them now,” you assured Isabella. The girl peeked out between her fingers and sighed in dramatic relief, letting her arms fall to her sides. “You too,” you said to the officer in the passenger seat. Trujillo only rolled his eyes in mild amusement, his gaze fixed firmly on a point far, far off in the distance.

Horacio pressed his lips against your temple once more before you moved to sit down, waiting until you’d done your own seatbelt to close the car door behind you. His boots scuffed heavy against the stoned street and you spoke to Isabella as he walked to the driver’s side. “One day, y’know, you might actually like kissing.”

She shook her head emphatically, her expression one of exaggerated disgust. “Never. Never ever.”

“Suit yourself,” you responded, moving to face the front windows to see your husband now at the steering wheel, his expression fighting to keep itself stern. “Y’know,” you added in a stage whisper, “your dad’s a very good kisser.”

“Gross!”

⫸ ——— ⫷

“I didn’t cry,” you said, shaking your head as Horacio opened the car door for you a few minutes after the first school bell rang. When he only hummed and Trujillo (now on the driver’s side) let out a barking laugh, you protested. “I didn’t!”

Horacio hid his unconvinced sincerity with a slow nod. You leant against the edge of the door when it shut, its hollow metal hot from the sun underneath your temples. Orange starbursts swam across your vision when you swiped quickly at your face with your knuckles. “I didn’t cry,” you maintained, feeling the rising stuffiness of your throat. “It’s allergies. I’m very- I’m very... pollen-sensitive.”

That was technically true - he'd bought you enough pink antihistamine tablets and tissues enough times to prove it - but you knew it wasn’t the cause of anything now. The reason for your swollen eyes was sitting in a real, grownup chair after two years of preschool and one year of kindergarten, a pencil case filled to the brim with bright, sparkly markers. At school.  

The car floor shifted under your feet when your husband turned back towards you, offering the polaroids he’d taken just moments earlier. “Do you want-”

“-yesthankyou-” you exhaled, grabbing the stack of photos from his hands. Spreading them out across your lap, you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. There was one of her getting out of the car… then her walking up to the front entrance... then another of her backpack, then of her shoes and Jesus, how many were there?

You flipped through the rest, scatterbrained and trying to commit every single picture to memory until something prompted your pausing. It was a picture of you.

He must’ve taken it while you weren’t paying attention, oblivious to the camera and turned away, but you were smiling. A bright, blinding smile that seemed to seep pure sunlight through the waxy white paper, up through your fingertips and back towards the swelling of your quickening heartbeat.

“That one,” Horacio said, taking the photograph from you and tucking it into the front pocket of his uniform. “Is for me.”

⫸ ——— ⫷

The engine rolled as the men parked. “Are you sure he’s here?” Javier asked, taking off his aviators to examine the row of terracotta houses, with their red-tile roofs and stucco walls. It was quiet in the mid-morning, temperate and warm. Medellín, the city of eternal spring,  was living up to its name.

Steve stuffed his government I.D (the only way they’d gotten through the gate) back into his pocket and adjusted the belt on his hips. “S’worth a shot. Wasn’t at the office, was he?”

“No,” Javier hummed, scanning the street with his arms crossed, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirtsleeves. “No, he wasn’t.”

Neither of the men seemed to notice the officer parked beside the street, waiting for his colonel to retrieve some forgotten files before returning to the embassy.

They walked closer towards the house, stepping over a small tricycle that lay forgotten on the front lawn. Steve lowered his sunglasses. “You think it’s his?”

A low laugh escaped Javier’s chest and he shook his head, his steps meeting the front door. “Nah, he has a little girl. From his first wife.”

Somewhere in the house footsteps echoed with a soft voice, too muffled to make out anything beyond the fact that it was a woman. Steve looked back towards his partner, perplexed.

“Second wife,” Javier explained before ringing the doorbell. “Never met her, though.”

The steps grew louder until a pause, with the small peephole of the door waxing their reflections. Steve held up his badge again and stepped back when various locks unlatched until the door was opened, creaking quietly on its joints.  The first thing they saw was your arms, balancing a precarious stack of plastic toys while you nudged the door farther open with a struggling foot. Steve rushed forward to take some from your hands and you smiled back at him, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that,” you breathed, setting the brightly colored books and toys on the floor beside you. “Caught me in the middle of cleaning up.” The men shared a quick look at each other, schooling their expressions from the slight shock created at your appearance. You were pretty and barefoot, sporting marker-stained jeans and a loose t-shirt. If they were expecting anyone, this definitely wasn’t it. “You’re DEA, right?”

Javier cleared his throat, elbowing the man beside him. Steve spoke up after a moment. “Yes ma’am. My name’s Agent Murphy, this man right here is Agent-”

“Oh!” you interrupted with a soft slap of your palm against your forehead, chiding yourself and opening the door farther. “Murphy? And Peña, right?”

They both nodded, albeit slowly, but you seemed impervious to their surprise, asking them if they wanted to come inside. The men declined and remained on the stoop, Steve realizing he still held a small rubber ball in his hands while Javier tried to keep his eyes above the scooped neck of your top.

“Was there something you needed?” you continued, bending down to kick out a rise in your runner carpet. “Horacio’s talked about you sometimes, y’know. It’s nice to actually put a face to the name.”

“Horacio?” Steve mumbled to Javier, his lips curling back in an amused, Southern cadence. A man - Colonel to them, or maybe just Carrillo, but Horacio to you - loomed near the edges of the hallway and turned closer when you spoke, his face and his voice familiar as it called out your name. “Speak of the devil,” the blonde agent whispered.

When you leant back into the man’s chest, both men quickly cleared their throats. Javier’s hands rested at his hips in a cocked stance, watching curiously as the colonel turned to whisper in your ear. The words were too quiet for anyone else to hear but you cast your eyes down, smiling to yourself before he pulled away.

You looked back up, the open brightness of your face only magnified when it was placed beside your husband’s stern posture. “I think they need you,” you reminded him. Javier confirmed this with some big lead about a “La Quica” and you bit back a snort at the nickname, pressing your lips together to hide your laugh. It must’ve been kismet, Javier thought, that brought someone like you to someone like him. Someone, he suddenly remembered, who worked in a hospital, witness and mender to the very things Carrillo caused. The man’s eyes were marginally softer here, though, and his hand lingered light on your waist. So maybe it worked.

“You’ll call later?” you asked, catching a soft grip on the colonel’s wrist when he moved to cross through the door. Steve glanced upwards when lips pressed quickly against your forehead, a quiet “of course” spoken into your hair before he walked away down the front steps.

“Surprised someone like that puts up with you,” Javier ribbed, bemused when Carrillo rolled his eyes.

Steve chuckled as they walked in steady tandem towards the parked cars. “Jealous?”

Javier hummed a casual maybe, catching the faint edge of a smile on your husband’s face when you looked out the front window, your silhouette a shadow through gauzy yellow curtains.

⫸ ——— ⫷

You leaned down to whisper in Isabella’s ear, encouraging her to take the few steps forward through the threshold of the office as she held a tall, disposable coffee cup. The rest that you’d brought were quickly put down before being taken by grateful men, their thanks muffled by the sound of lips on crinkling styrofoam. A man, the man you’d come to see, looked up to see you standing beside his desk, your frame edged by the evening light fracturing through the windows.

“You didn’t walk here, did you?” Horacio asked, his voice and his brow drawn over with concern. You lay a hand on his arm, a quiet placation as you rested your hip on a rounded wooden edge.

“I didn’t,” you glanced at the cluster of men on the other side of the room. You heard Isabella laugh, her small legs swinging back and forth as she was placed in a newly-emptied seat. “Hugo drove me.”

Horacio’s thumb traced over the slope of your wrist. “Hugo?”

“Pimienta,” you finished with another look towards the mass of dark green shoulders. “The new recruit.” Horacio nodded with a quiet I see and you give another smile, too observed to do much more. “He’s very sweet,” you assured your husband, offering a small wave when the man (or boy, more like) looked back towards the both of you. Hugo’s returning  grin was awkward, endearingly so, and you bit back a laugh when you caught the embarrassed ducking of his head, his dark skin hiding any rising blush.

He was young, barely out of training and still learning to hide his fear. They all were. Stoic, maybe, when they opened your doors and carried your groceries, but young. So, so young.

You picked up a stray pen, twirling it in your hands as you surveyed his desk. It was annoying neat, and you huffed as you tried to find something more interesting than typed field reports and stacks of manila folders. “No pictures?” you teased. He only pointed to the top corner and your eyes followed, falling on a small frame holding a color photograph. It was mostly of you, but you could see Isabella’s face peeking out of its bottom edge, intruding on the shot with a goofy smile. Her hair was short, curling in dark loops around her ears, so it must’ve been from a few years ago. ‘89, maybe. Yeah, ‘89, when he took that week off in Panama City and spent the whole time trying to teach Isabella how to swim. “That one?” you asked, curious. “I thought you’d want something more… I don’t know… official? Looking?”

He raised an eyebrow, adjusting the frame to its proper place. “Would you like to pose for another one?”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, remembering the day you had to pin what seemed like fifty military badges to his uniform. “No,” you said, examining the photo and shaking your head. “No, that one’s good.”

Horacio pulled you into the slight alcove of the office, the one filled with high-backed chairs and radio equipment that lay partially hidden from view. “They’re looking,” you mumbled, suddenly more conscious of the officers standing a few feet away. “They think we’re up to something.”

 “Are we?” he asked, smiling. A laugh bubbled up in your throat and you shook your head.

“I...” you began, your voice trailing off. He looked tired, and you were reminded of before, when infants used to cry in hallways and walls were thin. “I probably shouldn’t have come but you said you wouldn’t be home and I just- I just wanted…”

He slid his hands up your arms until they rested at your shoulders, hushing you quietly before speaking. The soft skin of your lips fell from between your teeth and you swallowed, the words resting unfinished beneath your sternum.

I just wanted to see you.

While I knew you were here.

While I knew I still could.

 His fingers rested heavy on the juncture of your neck, their tapering familiarity smoothing back the ache of knotting muscle. His watch was heavy, a tactical thing with a million little numbers, and its ribbed black straps dragged against the necklace holding your wedding ring.  You heard Horacio’s men making conversation - questions in Spanish about Isabella’s school and her favorite colors, compliments on how nice her new shoes looked and that tu madre fue muy dulce al traernos este café - but they floated out of your head, momentary and paling in importance to the way his hands seemed to smooth out every wrinkle of your thoughts, until they lay flat and rubbed back softer with sandpaper fingerprints.

“You never told me why you needed to stay late,” you whispered. He frowned slightly when you noticed the copper blooms dotting the edges of his sleeves, rolled up to rest at his elbows. “Did something happen?”

Horacio’s expression turned softer. Maybe to tamp down your worry. Maybe to try and make you forget it completely. He was like that with you. More gentle. Earnest. One hand raised to cup your jaw. “Nothing bad,” he said, shaking his head at your widened eyes, their color glassy from the fluorescence of office lamps.

“Promise?” you asked, wavering an echo of a morning’s conversation.

He straightened out, an oak to wrapping, shaded ivy. “Promise.”

[psycho-slytherin]

Turtledove

Your love of nature pays off... in an unexpected way.

Request: Could you do fae prince!Jungkook who has stolen you away? 

Pairing: Fae Prince!Jungkook x Reader

WC: 1.5k

Genre: fluff, drabble, idk?

A/N I just like bees, ok? Thanks for the request, anonie!

|mlist|

“Let me be your ruler, ruler, you can call me queen bee…” You sing to yourself as you weed your backyard. You’ve got half a dozen lavender bushes waiting to be planted, but first you’ve got to prepare the soil. Just as you’ve finally yanked out a particularly stubborn nettle, you feel a soft tingle on your skin. A bee has apparently made itself comfortable on your wrist.

“Hey, little lady,” you say with a smile. Maybe this is your signal to take a break from the relentless sun. You’ve never been scared of bees. Even as a child, you always seemed to attract insects and animals. Your mom called it magic; you’re of the opinion that good souls can sense each other. “It’s hot today, huh?” You ask the bee, who buzzes contentedly on your hand as you move back into a shady patch beneath the cherry tree. “You’re gonna like the lavender once it’s all grown up, there’ll be plenty of pollen.” It must be your imagination, but it seems like the bee buzzes more happily at your words. “Well, go on,” you say, waving your hand lightly to encourage its flight. “Get back to your queen, honey- ow!”

Almost in slow motion, you watch the bee press its stinger into the flesh of your palm before looking right into your eyes. The world tilts sideways and everything goes black.

Something cold pokes your cheek and you suppress a groan. You feel dirt and leaves beneath your feet, and something softer, wet– moss?

“Mina, you weren’t supposed to kill it,” an airy, male voice says.

“I didn’t mean to,” a girl whines. “I panicked.”

Your head is killing you, and when you at last open your eyes, you blink weakly. “Where…?”

“Ah, good, it’s awake.” And in front of your eyes is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen– his hair is a soft forest green, his skin inhumanly perfect, his nose tilted up just slightly and his ears pointed, as though he’s wearing prosthetics. He’s draped in shimmering green-blue robes that seem to move despite the stillness of the air. “I’m sorry for Mina.”

“Who…?” Normally you’d be scared, but the ethereal man in front of you practically radiates calm; against your instincts, you feel yourself relaxing. “Who are you?”

The man opens his mouth but before he can respond, a blue-haired girl– this must be Mina– claps her hands excitedly. “This is his royal highness, heir to the forest fae kingdom, the Crown Prince Jungkook!”

“Thank you, Mina,” the… prince? Responds bemusedly. “This is Mina, my aide, and the one who brought you here.”

You stand up groggily. “Where’s here?” You’re in a forest, certainly: tall trees with broad leaves create a dappled pattern of sunlight on the soft floor. You don’t hear even the hint of civilization. No cars, no chatter, just the occasional bird call.

“Oh, this is my kingdom. And you, human, are my guest.” He snaps his fingers and it’s like reality melts away. Where there were nests or messy branches suddenly appear small treehouses. What you thought was an animal’s burrow transforms into a beautifully decorated hut built into the earth. The messy rocks and moss beneath your feet rearrange themselves into neat paths leading throughout the forest. And right behind the prince, an enormous redwood tree simply becomes a magnificent palace, complete with arching doorways and large windows, perfect except for its size.

“Wo-woah…” you take a step backwards in wonder, suddenly feeling dizzy. You’re hallucinating, right? An allergic reaction to the bee sting? Or you’ve been kidnapped by a very handsome and definitely psycho magician?

Although… You know it’s irrational, but you can’t help but sense goodness in him. And Mina too.

“Am I dreaming?” You whisper, suddenly realizing that those pointy-ear prosthetics look very real.

“You’re not dreaming.” Prince Jungkook draws closer. He smells like clover and rain and lavender. “Human, all your life you have been good to us. The butterflies and bees for whom you planted flowers, the hummingbirds and squirrels you kept well-fed, and the very earth beneath your feet, which was always left fertile and healthy. I have watched you save my subjects from ill-meaning humans, from injuries, from cold.” He reaches out a hand and lightly touches a finger to your chest, right above your heart. You can feel it beat faster in response. “And for that, I shall reward you with a glimpse into my world. Will you come?”

His eyes are a deep green, and staring into them, you feel like your every sense has been heightened. If you’re dreaming, it’s the most intensely sensory dream you can remember. And if not… “Yes.”

The prince’s eyes flash. “This may hurt a little.”

From his finger on your chest you feel warmth spreading throughout your body. “Ah!” What began as a pleasant warmth morphs into pain; You feel a sharp, searing ache shoot through you. Your ears, eyes, and back especially feel as though they’re burning. “Stop it!”

As soon as the words leave your lips, the pain stops and you collapse onto the moss, which seems bigger now. Your body feels inexplicably light, and when you look back at the prince and Mina, your jaw drops.

“Holy– you have wings!” Tossing your confusion to the side– it’s a dream anyways, it doesn’t have to make sense– you bound over to Mina, who indeed stands before you with beautiful blue and black wings fluttering lightly in the breeze. Prince Jungkook’s wings are silver, almost transparent, and yet so bright they practically glow. “Can I…” you reach forward cautiously. “Can I touch them?”

“Gently,” the prince replies.

“But, your highness–” Mina says, falling silent as you lightly stroke the prince’s wing. They seem to emerge from between his shoulder blades, and though you thought they’d be light and fragile, you can feel a strength in the material. You notice the prince tensing slightly at your touch.

“This is all so beautiful.” You finally take a step back and look beyond the fae in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

The burrows and treehouses have grown in size. The palace that seemed awkwardly small now looms over you, impossibly large. In fact, everything seems much bigger now. You stare at your hands and finally notice that they look tiny in comparison to the humble blade of grass beside you. Nothing’s grown– you and the faeries have shrunken.

“Do you remember some fifteen years ago? You were just a child when you found a turtledove with a broken wing.” Prince Jungkook says with a soft smile.

You do remember the incident– you’d come into the house crying, asking your parents to help you bring it inside.

“You spent days and sleepless nights nursing it back to health. And for years the turtledove would return, wouldn’t it, to say hello?”

“Y-Yes. It always slept in the fig tree outside my window.” The dove stopped visiting four or five years later; you figured it had died.

“That turtledove, lovely human, was me. And this is my kingdom.” He gestures, and the silent forest suddenly bursts into chatter, movement, noise. Hundreds of faeries appear as though they’d been there all along, walking or flying, dressed in all manner of tunics and robes. Most seem to be going about their business, running errands, or doing work. Some stop and stare at you, or greet the prince with a bow. The doors to the redwood palace swing open, and you hear an unfamiliar kind of music fill the air.

“Will you join me?” Prince Jungkook asks, a brilliant smile lighting up his features.

You grin mischievously. “That depends, do I get wings too?”

“Oh, Y/n. Look behind you.”

“What?” You crane your neck and yelp in surprise; In your peripheral vision you can see the edges of black-and-yellow wings, the pattern resembling a cross between a monarch butterfly’s and a bee’s. You focus intently on your back muscles and for a brief moment, you see the tips of your wings flutter.

“Er… your highness, can I keep them?” You ask the prince, hurrying to keep up with him and Mina as they enter the palace. The interior is beautiful, perfectly blending the decor in with the natural color of the wood. Patterns and symbols you don’t recognize are carved into the walls, and well-dressed faeries turn to eye you from around the foyer.

“Call me Jungkook. The wings are yours within the fae world– and you are welcome to stay as long as you’d like, princess.”

Your heart seems to glow. You’re a faery, a real faery! Even if it is just a dream… you never want to wake up.

“Jungkook!” You say his name like it’s a ray of sunshine, laughing at the pure delight flowing through you. The prince stands next to you, his wings catching the light of the lanterns. “Jungkook, thank you. Your world is so wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Jungkook takes your hand and draws it to him, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. “No, thank you. You’re all goodness, princess. Now, let me show you around.”

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: seungcheol x reader. ⚬ word count: 4865. ⚬ warnings: drinking / smoking. ⚬ genre: mostly angst, fluff, some suggestive/borderline nsfw scenes. a casual life!au? (meaning he isn’t an idol) 

✧✎ synopsis: seungcheol knows you’re no longer together, that he should’t be thinking about you as often as he does, and yet, you keep appearing. his heart doesn’t know how many times it can afford to split.  

✧✎ a/n: i really wanted to write smth as i work toward finishing that other massive fic. so HERE. bc i miss seungcheol ;-; and idk i just like angst lol. 

i.

Seungcheol doesn’t know if it’s right for him to be looking at you like this. It doesn’t necessarily feel wrong, but there’s a distinct craving in his gaze that spots him with doubt. You’re not together any more. The chapter where your lives were once romantically intertwined was coldly shut months ago, leaving little room for reconciliation or even the most surface-level of acquaintances. Yet, Seungcheol is struck with a sudden pining as his eyes inspect you from top to bottom across the room, finding it pure luck you were both at the same new year’s party.

There’s a doorway from the living room that leads into the kitchen. Seungcheol is sitting on the sofa with a jade-tinted bottle in his hand, though the amount of alcohol he’s consumed since first arriving has greatly subsided. He’s too distracted by you to even raise the bottle to his lips, nor does he adequately listen when Joshua attempts a conversation. You’re talking to some people he doesn’t recognize, your eyes rather milky and a shiny can in your hand. He stares at the side of your neck and thinks it would be nice if he were giving you a hickey right now.

“Hey.” Joshua bumps Seungcheol’s shoulder and the boy finally turns his head.

He sees Wonwoo and Hansol as well, who give Seungcheol a warm glance. He notes that Hansol is carrying his signature black lunchbox.

Joshua then leans toward Seungcheol’s ear in order to whisper over the music: “We’re going outside to smoke, you coming or not?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Pass,” he says, “I don’t really feel like it.”

He pays attention to the beer in his hand, titling his head back as he gulps down a significant amount of the tangy, bubbly flavour. It doesn’t taste that good, and the bottle’s not even cold at this point, but Seungcheol figures he should just finish it anyways. Joshua sees you in the kitchen, leaning generously against the sink while you attempt to smile at the strangers who converse with you. It was worth a try to get Seungcheol off the couch and away from lamenting at your lost relationship, but he’s unimaginably stubborn when he wants to be.

“Okay,” Joshua replies, patting his shoulder, “don’t get too hung up or anything.”

Seungcheol watches the small crowd weave their way through the congregation to reach the patio door, the last he glimpses of Joshua being his bright blue hat before he slips into the chilly night. Quickly, Seungcheol polishes off the remaining alcohol inside the jade bottle, heavily swallowing the deep burn that melts down his throat while deserting the glass on the arm of the couch. He senses a distant thrumming in his cranium, knows he’ll regret every sip by morning, but for now he cares so very little.

As he leans back in his seat, Seungcheol comes to focus on the body that’s suddenly standing right in front of him. It’s weird, who would do that? However, the breath instantly whisks from the boys’ lungs when he realizes that it’s not just some intoxicated, fucked up stranger who isn’t even cognisant of what room they’re in. It’s you. You’re standing in front of him, to which Seungcheol poorly hides the stupor that colours his face. Before he can stumble out a single word, you’re straddling his lap and settling your hands against his firm shoulders.

Evidently, Seungcheol doesn’t know what the hell is happening. Neither of you are in a sober headspace. Furthermore, he hasn’t touched you (let alone been this close to you) in almost three months. Out of habituality, he grabs the familiar warmth of your waist, the simple contact with your skin igniting an emotion that was once wholly repressed. Staring into your eyes, he sees how foggy they are. He knows his can’t look much different.

“W-What are you doing?” Seungcheol stutters, his cheeks hot and sunset pink.

At first, you don’t speak, only crack a small smile while wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing your faces in close proximity until you’re practically breathing the same air.

You blink at him heavily. “Kiss me.” You whisper against his mouth.

Seungcheol doesn’t believe he’s capable of ever denying you.

The next few hours seem to seamlessly blend together. Seungcheol remembers the intense make-out that ensued on the couch and the little regard he carried for the environment around him. Once he tastes the sharp liquor from your lips, he completely submits to that catastrophic buzz you give him. Feeling your weight push down against his lap, how your fingertips slip through his soft, onyx hair, the way it feels morally wrong to welcome your tongue into his mouth, but so physically right that Seungcheol can only pull your hips closer.

He remembers the warm, open-mouthed kisses he nipped to your sensitive neck, murmuring in a slurred, gritty tone: “let me take you upstairs, baby.”

Joshua might throw the remainder of Hansol’s stale bong water over his head if he discovered what you and Seungcheol did. Somehow, there’s an empty bedroom available at the end of the dim corridor. After falling onto the sheets, you hastily pull the white top over your head and fling it toward a dusky corner, reaching for Seungcheol as he climbs over top your body. While pressing more heated kisses against your throat, already bruising and marked with indents from his teeth, Seungcheol’s hand rubs a sweet friction between your thighs, right over your jeans.

He hears you release a small cry of his name, your nails dragging down his back.

Nothing has ever made his heart shake more.

ii.

Seungcheol is confused as to what time is it. There’s no alarm clock on the bedside table, and his phone is buried within the pocket of his navy green jacket slumped at the end of the bed. He can’t hear much from the level beneath him. Looking toward the blinds, he can only gauge slits of the night sky. All of a sudden, there’s a sickly coughing noise from behind the shut bathroom door, to which he views a small sliver of yellow light underneath. Seungcheol notes the empty space beside him. He hears another cough, followed by a pained and irritated groan.

Damn – you have to be hungover.

Stumbling drearily out from the bed, Seungcheol brushes away the black strands of hair that flop before his eyes. He almost topples over trying to get his boxers back on. The pounding in his head isn’t unbearable, and he figures he’ll be fine after getting some water in his system and dozing off to a few painkillers. Seungcheol taps his knuckles against the bathroom door.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice still thick with sleep, “how bad is it?”

There’s a moment of silence. Seungcheol assumes it must feel bizarre to have your ex consoling you through a hangover, especially considering the history of last night.

“I don’t know…” comes your weak response, “I think I’m dying.”

Seungcheol leans his head against the wood and laughs. “You’re not dying, honey. Can I come in?”

The door swings open, and Seungcheol sees you half-dressed in your white t-shirt and underwear, a watery film in your eyes and a look of pure exhaustion draining your countenance. Then, you’re immediately collapsing back to the cold tiling, leaning your head against the side of the bathtub while the toilet sits across from you. This doesn’t feel like an unfamiliar scene. Seungcheol used to always nurture you through your intoxication, and at least this time you possess enough strength to stand without your legs trembling.

“You want me to get you anything?” Seungcheol asks. “Water? A wet cloth? Some pills?”

He doesn’t know where he’ll get the pills. It’s probably three in the morning, but he figures the convenience store in town might still be open.

You swallow tightly and wrap your arms around your knees, the fluorescent lights gleaming against your balmy, flushed skin. It seems as though you won’t look him in the eyes. Seungcheol understands. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Neither of you should be in this bedroom.

A poignant sigh escapes your chest. “What’s wrong with me?” You ask, the water glimmering bright in your eyes. “Why did we do this?”

Seungcheol stiffens. When he catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror, he can read the hazy extent of your night together. The bruises are tinted like cherry and violets, smudged against his chest, his collarbone and neck. Even now, as he really concentrates, Seungcheol can feel the cool air sting dully against his back, which he can only hypothesize is decorated in long, deep scratches that will possibly burn like hell in the shower. His body hasn’t looked like this in months. There’s a clandestine part of him that wishes the marks will never lose their vibrancy.

He doesn’t know how to soothe your conflict.

Instead, Seungcheol takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub and stares down at you tenderly.

“I don’t know,” he replies, “we don’t always make the right decisions.”

You tilt your head back and meet his eyes. Seungcheol’s chest flutters.

For a moment, you look like you want to say something; however, an immediate grimace wrinkles your face and a tight hand is curling around your stomach. You scoot close to the toilet, holding onto its rim while a heavy cough burns acrid against your throat and suddenly, you’re upchucking the potent, venomous liquor from last night. Seungcheol collects your hair in his hand, pulling it back from your face. Once the surges calm for a few minutes, you’re too energy-depleted to do much apart from hang over the toilet, Seungcheol rubbing your back.

It’s three in the morning, but he feels like he would do anything for you.

iii.

Seungcheol opens his wallet and forks out the bills necessary to cover his lunch. He slides out from the booth first, accompanied by Seokmin and Jeonghan who suggested they go out to eat after their basketball game. Seungcheol trails behind them on his phone as they walk down a slim corridor toward the front of the restaurant. He’s texting Joshua about what their fridge looks like, and if it’s necessary to ask Jeonghan about making a stop at the supermarket. The afternoon light is dull as they enter the front house, and Seungcheol sees it’s raining outside.

“Wait—,” Jeonghan stops them before they can leave. “Let me try the gumball machine. Does anyone have ten cents?”

“The gumball machine?” Seokmin laughs. “Are you a child?”

“Shut up.” Jeonghan tuts in response. “I want a pink one. Now do you have ten cents or not?”

“Sheesh, give me a second, I’m checking.”

Seungcheol has developed the skill of tuning out their innocuous banter. He looks through the windows and into the downpour, which ripples unforgivingly against the glass and slicks the pavement. For their sake, he’s glad Jeonghan was able to find a parking spot across the street. As the boy gets down on his knee and crams the small coin into the slot, cranking the handle, something manages to catch in Seungcheol’s peripheral vision. His heart skips a beat. You’re looking out the window while nibbling worrisomely upon your bottom lip.

“Are you freaking kidding? Orange? That’s the worst.”

“Why does it matter?” Seokmin quips. “They all taste the same.”

Jeonghan huffs petulantly. “But I wanted pink! Do you have another ten cents?”

Seungcheol hasn’t seen you since your wicked hangover at the New Year’s party. Though it’s a moment of the past, he remembers the situation so vividly, even more so how restless he felt afterward. He was unable to remove you from his mind, and he thought about you so often that he felt the ache with his whole chest. You haven’t noticed him yet. Seungcheol wants to approach you, though he’s not sure how kindly you’ll react or if you’ll brush him off.

“Awe, yes! Pink!”

Jeonghan stands triumphantly from the gumball machine. He holds the pink candy between his fingers and gets ready to pop it straight in his mouth, and yet, the slippery thing flings from his grasp at the last second. The gumball hits the floor, rolling outside into the rain just as someone runs indoors with their umbrella. Seokmin starts cackling, and Jeonghan just looks like he wants to go home. But Seungcheol can’t leave right now. He decides he has to talk to you.

“Meet you guys in the car,” he says, “I have to do something first.”

Seungcheol taps you on the shoulder. You jump slightly, and he feels bad about scaring you, but he’s relieved to see that your expression is cordial rather than aggravated. It blatantly feels strange. You don’t resemble a stranger, yet you’re not extremely clear to him either.

“Seungcheol? Did you eat here?”

The boy nods. “Yeah, I came here after basketball with some friends”

“O-Oh,” you stutter, looking off to the side, “I’m just waiting.”

You then gesture out the window, toward the grey, heavy rain. Seungcheol spots Seokmin and Jeonghan walking across the street, sporting their jackets pulled over their heads, looking somewhat like imbeciles who he has a soft spot for. At one point you were close with both of them, but now Seungcheol doesn’t even know if you still keep in touch. When you broke up, your worlds started floating apart, and that included contact with each other’s friends.

“Right,” Seungcheol snaps his fingers, “you’re still doing the tutoring thing at the library, huh?”

A timid smile pulls on your lips. “I’m tutoring someone today, but it’s so rainy out. I don’t think it’s gonna pass very soon.”

Seungcheol finds that he doesn’t even process what comes out from his mouth. There’s a sudden rush of giddiness in his veins, and he feels like his nervous, sophomore-self that once crushed on you before your relationship even started. At the same time, it’s an offer he used to make without thought when you were dating, and it warps into a conflicting, emotional mess.

“Do you want my windbreaker?” He asks, plucking at the black and white fabric. “It’s waterproof and stuff.”

Your mouth hangs open for a little bit.

“Uhm… I just—I don’t know, you don’t have to—,”

“It doesn’t matter, seriously.” Seungcheol replies, staring into your wide eyes with a soft expression. “Just give it back whenever we see each other again, okay?”

You lick your lips, swallowing tautly before nodding your head. Seungcheol removes his jacket and helps you slip into the material. It’s a little bit big on you, and the hood droops down far over your face, but, god, seeing you in his clothes engenders Seungcheol’s heart to beat so unbelievably fast. He experiences a concoction of different emotions, different memories. He remembers how it felt seeing you wear his t-shirt after the first time you slept together, how he felt when you’d set up a long distance skype call and you’d be dressed in his old hoodie.

Everything comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to walk away from you, but he knows it’s wrong to linger. You don’t belong to each other anymore.

But at least he’ll get to see you again.

iv.

Seungcheol bounces the basketball a few times against the lacquered floor, feeling the leather texture brush beneath his palm. Then, he takes a deep shot, watching the ball suction perfectly into the hoop just before it echoes against the ground. He was the sole person occupying the gym after a late-night practice. Seokmin was with him about ten minutes ago, but he ended up packing his things and heading off to shower stalls, wishing Seungcheol a goodnight. Even though Seungcheol said he would be leaving shortly, he didn’t know why he was still here.

He picked the ball up and tossed it again, hearing the satisfying swish of the net.

The gym doors suddenly squeak, loud and metallic, to which Seungcheol takes out an earbud assuming that maybe Seokmin forgot something. However, the face that smiles at him doesn’t belong to Seokmin at all, and Seungcheol feels his heart soar. You’re holding the windbreaker that the boy let you borrow during the downpour last week, and he hears a relieved sigh.

“I figured I might catch you here.”

Seungcheol smiles and sets his earbud back in. It astonishes him that you can recall the days he has basketball practice, though Seungcheol supposes it makes great sense considering you used to attend all his warm-ups and games. He grows oddly fond seeing you from the court again.

“Just put in next to that black bag on the bench.”

“I never got to thank you for letting me use it,” you explain while returning the windbreaker to the rest of his belongings, “it was really pouring out, but I was definitely less wet than if I had nothing. I wasn’t too sure if you would still be here. Of course, I knew when I saw Seokmin.”

“It must’ve been weird for him to see you coming back here.” He replies. You would never come to the court unless Seungcheol was there.

“He said hi to me,” you admit, scratching your arm, “he looked kinda nervous though.”

Seungcheol can’t help but note that you seem a little saddened by the interaction. The break-up between you two was all but civilized and pretty. There was shouting, tears, bitter and cold words shanked through the thick air with infinitesimal regard for the other’s feelings. Seungcheol remembers you pushing a picture frame of you two together off the shelf, how the glass cracked, different shards scattering far across the floor. He remembers storming into his bedroom and throwing all your clothes into one heaping pile, demanding that you leave, swearing that he hopes to never see you again. Now, everything feels so pointless and stupid.

The falling out crumbled an entire web of ties between you. Seungcheol understands why Seokmin would be nervous to see you, but he hates to know how it’s upset you.

“Hey,” Seungcheol calls out, attempting to lift the depressive mood, “Wanna shoot?” He bounces the basketball.

You immediately tense. “Uh – no. I haven’t touched a basketball since we were dati—I mean, well – you know. I haven’t played at all.”

Seungcheol smiles, rolling his eyes. “Just come here.” He beckons. “I’ll remind you.”

“I-I don’t know, my friend is in the car. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“It’ll take two minutes.” He reasons. “I promise.”

The boy is delighted to see you comply, even if you are hesitant and approach him with bleeding apprehensiveness. While he shows you how to hold the ball as well as the correct motion to make with your wrist, there’s a smile blooming from one corner of your mouth to the other. Sometimes the past feels exactly like it should: the past. At this moment, a warmth ignites between you two, a spark that feels passionate and ever-lasting. Once he gives a few examples, the ball is suddenly in your hands, and he watches brightly as you sink a basket.

Seungcheol collects the ball, smirking. “You wanna play?” He then asks, checking the ball straight into your chest.

“No,” you respond, sending it back harder, “you know I just said I have someone waiting.”

“It hasn’t been two minutes yet.”

“There’s probably thirty seconds left. We have no time.”

“Fine,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “be a loser.” He doesn’t wait for you, and flicks the ball through the hoop.

It hits the glossy wood, bounces a couple times, and proceeds to roll slowly across the ground. You look at Seungcheol, and Seungcheol looks at you. There’s a small moment of silence.

Until you’re both racing across the floor with arms extended, practically throwing yourselves toward the basketball. It just ghosts under your fingertips, and somehow you manage to secure it against your chest, though you’re unable to even rise from the floor as Seungcheol straddles your waist and attempts to whack the ball out of your grip. The chime of your laughter echoes loudly through the entire gymnasium. You’re too slippery and end up weaseling away, scrambling haphazardly to your feet and using your last breath to sail the ball toward the net.

Seungcheol is too late. He reaches for you, but the ball has already gone through.

As the boy wraps his arms around your waist and hugs your back against his firm, hard chest, you cry out triumphantly, pumping your fists in the air. To anyone who observed from the outside, you wouldn’t exactly paint the image of a broken relationship. You were laughing, celebrating, making harmless mockery pertaining to the other with stupid grins on your faces.

“You’re such a cheater.” Seungcheol says.

Wriggling to face him in the comfort of his grasp, you slide your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and scrunch your nose.

“How did I cheat? That was fair!”

Seungcheol grabs your hips tight, pulling you in close against his body until he can almost count the individual sparkles in your eyes and smell the sweetness of your hair.

“Uh? You said you weren’t gonna play.”

“I wasn’t!” You giggle. “Until you called me a l—,”

The metal doors squeak again. At the speed of light, you and Seungcheol detach from each other, the playful mood disintegrating as the girl who’d been waiting in the car comes looking for you. Seungcheol sees the light drain from your eyes. He watches your shoulders slump, and the deep lump you forcefully swallow upon being interrupted. Seungcheol is utterly disappointed too. His heart doesn’t quite beat the same when you bid him the tiniest, quietest goodbye before running over to your friend, apologizing to her for the unexpected wait. The doors rattle once more, and then the gym is completely empty. It stings worse than anything.

Seungcheol doesn’t understand why he can’t just have you back.

v.

It’s sometime after ten-thirty when Seungcheol finally leaves Hansol and Wonwoo’s house. It’s not a long walk back to his miniscule apartment complex crammed in the middle of town, and he loves to soaks in the calm beauty belonging to the clear, star-speckled sky. He only went over to smoke after a tiresome day at his job, but he ended up staying much longer after Wonwoo revealed his game console. They took turns playing Portal and Grand Theft Auto. It was fun, a perfect way to unwind, and now Seungcheol is ready to wash up and go to bed.

He’s wearing his earphones while walking through town, listening to old songs that remind him of you, a playlist actually, one he started making before you were even together. No matter what happens – Seungcheol is always thinking about you these days. He misses you in a way that aches deeply, like his heart has been split in two by a sharp and jagged stone. In fact, while standing at an intersection, waiting for the light to glow in a walking man symbol, Seungcheol almost mistakes someone sitting at the bus bench across the street for you.

A moment passes, and he squints through the meagre lighting. Wait—that is you.

Your gaze keeps flitting nervously from the lurid phone in your hand to the dimly lit area that surrounds you. Your knee is quickly bouncing, and Seungcheol can sense at a distance how nervous you’re feeling. He doesn’t know why you’re sitting alone in the dark, but he can’t just leave you there. Instead of walking his usual route back to the apartment complex, Seungcheol approaches you, calls out your name softly as to not make you afraid. At first you respond to him with a moonfaced expression, but then you recognize his face and your heart quiets.

“Everything okay?” Seungcheol asks, taking out his earphones.

You gulp thickly and reflect a jittery smile. “Um, kinda. My boss made me stay late for closing. I tried texting my friend to pick me up, but she’s not responding.” A frozen breeze rifles through the air and you shiver. “I-I just, I don’t want to walk home alone.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to extend his hand.

“C’mon, I’ll take you.”

A grateful smile warms your face. Standing up from the cold bench, you grab Seungcheol’s hand and interlock fingers. Your address is still fresh in his mind, to which he easily navigates the streets with you beside him. At one point, a loud dog starts barking from a few blocks over and you nearly jump out from your own skin, though Seungcheol just slides his arm around your waist, gently pulling you further into his solace. He feels you instantly relax against him. An indescribable light fills his chest. To be able to make you feel safe, like he used to, it’s aweing.

“This is it, right?” Seungcheol asks upon approaching the house porch. He knows it’s right, but he waits for you to confirm it.

“You’re right.” You tell him in a tiny voice.

His hand grazes the small of your back as you walk up the steps together, stopping before the door and its weathered, white paint. A bitterness stings against Seungcheol’s throat, a truly horrible bitterness. He doesn’t want to say goodbye – he wants to stay. He wants to take you inside and wait on your bed as you get ready for the night. He wants to experience that beautiful fluttering in his stomach when you crawl into his arms and shut off the light, his hand stroking your spine as you fall asleep, your soft, slow breaths fanning against his neck.

Why does it have to hurt like this? Seungcheol hates that he’s so in love with you, but he’d never want it any other way. Even if he has to endure this pain, it’s better than never getting to know you, touch you or love you. He swallows the hot salt and gets ready to bid his goodbye.

“Sleep well, okay? Maybe I’ll see you agai—,”

Suddenly, you’re hugging Seungcheol. Your arms wrap securely around his waist and you bury your face in his neck. He takes a slight step backward, caught off guard by the blitz of affection. He hears you suck in a trembling breath, and then he feels wet, cold droplets slide against his skin. Instantly, he holds you, one hand dearly cradling the back of your head while the other passes up and down your back. You shake in his arms and he doesn’t know why. Seungcheol just hugs you tighter. If he has to, he’ll hold you for the entire night.

“S-Seungcheol,” you release his name in a sob, lifting your head from his neck. His heart beats wildly as he looks directly into your teary eyes. “I’m s-sorry.” You cry to him. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“What?” He cups your face, collecting a few thick tears with his thumb. “For what, honey?”

“E-Everything,” you hiccup, grabbing his waist tighter, “for the st-stupid fights, the p-picture, all those h-horrible things I yelled at you – I hate my-myself because of it.”

Seungcheol shakes his head and brings your face in closer to his, brown eyes glistering. “I don’t care about that. I don’t. I said horrible things too, sweetheart. I yelled at you, I told you to leave, I made you so upset, and I know exactly how you feel.” He rubs his thumb tenderly below your damp eye, and you ease into his touch. “But that was a different time. No matter what, I’m still in love with you. What happened months ago doesn’t change that. I promise.”

You sniffle back the new pearls that nearly stain your face.

“Really? Y-You still love me?”

Seungcheol leans in. He presses his forehead against yours, his fingers delicately framing your wet, warm cheek. And then he’s kissing you softly, pouring every ounce of his heart into the contact. Your hand curls around the back of his neck. You respond passionately, keeping him as near as possible, nipping gently at his bottom lip while stealing each other’s breath. Seungcheol peers directly into your gaze. It’s glassy from the tears, but also sincere and welcoming.

“I never stopped.” He says earnestly.

He feels your fingertips thread through the black silk of his hair. You kiss him again, and his grip finds the familiarity of your hips, leading you backward until you press against the door.

“I love you too.” You admit to him between every peck.

In the rising heat, you whisper against the boy’s pretty mouth, “I want you back,” to which the words engender Seungcheol’s heart to positively melt. Seungcheol knows you already have him. It doesn’t take long before you’re unlocking the door with the key beneath an ancient flowerpot. You hop into his arms, and Seungcheol catches you like it’s nothing, sitting you on top of the corridor dresser while his kisses wander further down your neck. Every whimper he hears turns him fonder. You admit again that you love him and he smiles against your skin.

Seungcheol will always need you. He hopes he always has you.

[angelwiththeblue-box]

all of them for the ask game

babe im so bored rn thank you

1 (fav tv otp) - i have way too many, but lokius off the top of my head

2 (fav color) - maroon

3 (fav quote) - we are made of star stuff

4 (zodiac sign) - leo

5 (middle name) - three people know my name and theyre all family members

6 (when is your birthday) - august 13

7 (what is your love language) - physical touch

8 (rom com or drama) - romcom as long as its good

9 (three places you want to go) - im saying fictional places, bc ive been to a lot of the places i want to go to, so stark tower, the dragon continent in wings of fire that i can't remember the name of, the tardis

10 (fav scent) - vanilla or new books

11 (last song you listened too) - little miss perfect

12 (im giving you a plane ticket, where are you going) - los angeles

13 (chocolate or vanilla) - vanilla

14 (cake or donuts) - donuts

15 (what color would you wear for the rest of your life) - black

16 (favorite quote from a book) - i dont have any right now, but when i was in middle school i had a whole journal full of books quotes i like

17 (you are in a fight, which tumblr acc do you want to help you) - i can box so i dont know if i need help, but i feel like plank would be like cheering me on from the sidelines, so zir

18 (cotton candy or ice cream) - i havent had cotton candy in forever, so ice cream

19 (dream career) - director

20 (biggest pet peeve) - loud noises and getting squished in between people (are these pet peeves? idc i hate them)

21 (describe your style/aesthetic) - k my style is oversized cropped t shirts, jean shorts and sweaters. my aesthetic is late night writing, ice cream dripping down cones and fairy lights

22 (favorite thing about yourself) - every saturday i do my nails, since if they're bare i bite them, and so ive gotten really good at painting both my own nails and other peoples and sometimes ill get fun acrylic nails and my nails just always look so nice!!!

23 (favorite day of the week) - saturday. there's no expectations, i can just do whatever

24 (morning or night person) - night. obviously

25 (tea or coffee) - neither

26 (if you could only read one book for the rest of your life, what would it be) - k i suck at making decision so either carry on or once and future

27 (you're stuck in a lift with your favorite tumblr account who is it) - @thedragonemperess!!!!!!!!!!

28 (do you have any siblings) - yes a younger brother he's a pain

29 (biggest fear) - dying alone

30 (favorite word and why) - eleftheria, it's greek it means freedom and death, and i like it because it kind of shows that like freedom and death are super similar AND OH LOKIUS FANFIC IDEA!!!

31 (you're in a bookstore and you can get three books, which ones) - once and future (hardback) this one doctor who book in fancy leather that i saw like five years ago that i havent forgotten about but is now out of print that i still want (hardback) the improbable adventures of sherlock holmes (hard back)

32 (comfort movie/tv show) - i have a couple. schitts creek, marvels runaways, jatp, the librarians.

33 (describe your tumblr in five words) - chaotic, fandom, queer, random, idk

34 (what celebrity/person do you look up to the most) - i dont look up to people im too tall

35 (worst tv show/movie you ever watched) - loki (/j) actually the red shoes it was this french movie i think, it was so terrible

36 (fav/lucky number) - 13

37 (favorite flower) - roses or tiger lilies

38 (favorite gemstone) - ruby, opal, peridot

39 (what color would you dye your hair) - light blue or dark red

40 (back or forward in time and where?) - no preference, actually. either sounds fun

41 (what are you eating for your last meal) - garlic bread

42 (favorite flavor of ice cream) - cherry and birthday cake specifically from my work

43 (you can have dinner with one person dead or alive who would it be) - the tenth doctor

44 (you can only use one product for the rest of your life, what is it) - i have no idea what this means

45 (favorite time of day) - 1am

46 (do you get complimented often) - kind of. my nails and eyes get complimented a bit, but other that that not really

47 (what languages do you know/want to learn) - i know english. and i would really like to know how to speak spanish, latin, and american sign language, but i dont have the patience or memory to learn languages ive tried like four times

48 (favorite fruit) - mango

49 (characters from the last tv show you watched are planning your wedding) - k im never getting married, but if i ever get platonic married, it would be planned by the librarians and i am 100 % fine with that

AND BABE ILY TOOOOOOOO <33333333333

[the-awkward-outlaw]

hi, i never asked for a fic before but could you do one about female reader getting kidnapped by micah and she gets tourtured, arthur and the gang go save her. idk it sounds silly im not good at giving fic ideas lol

Well, Anon, I’m glad to pop your request cherry! This was a good request, don’t sell yourself short! 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You stand at Pearson’s wagon, preparing tonight’s stew yet again. The cook is too drunk to do it himself yet again, poor man. Not that you blame him. You spend half the time here in Beaver Hollow wishing you were too drunk to be coherent. You’ve never been in a more foul place and the entire gang seems to sense it. What used to be a strong-knit family only a few weeks ago is now more feral than a pack of starving wolves, eager to rip each other’s throats out. 

As you cut up some venison, you look up and see Micah walking through camp, taunting Karen, Mary-Beth and Uncle as he passes them. Out of everyone here, Micah seems to be the one settling in the best, and he’s the only one who seems happy about the predicament of the gang. His behavior has begun to make you suspicious. 

Just as he reaches the horses and mounts up on his black and white steed, Arthur and John pull in. They must have finished with the Bacchus bridge then. You hear Arthur ask Micah what he’s doing, but Micah waves him off. 

“Nothing you need to worry about, cowpoke. Just going to go scouting to see what might be the next best move now that you two finally got a move on that bridge.” 

Micah twitches his reins and begins walking down the path, whistling as he goes. You don’t like his answer, too vague. Tilly walks past, so you ask her to finish supper so you can go and talk to Arthur since you haven’t seen him in a few days. She agrees, though grudgingly. You know the only reason she did so was because Arthur is your husband. 

You walk up to him and quickly say you’re off to do a ride and do some hunting of your own. 

“What? No hello?” he says seriously. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur, it’s just this place. It sets my teeth on edge.” You lean in and whisper, “I want to know what Micah is up to. Don’t tell anyone.” 

He nods understandingly and quickly gives you a kiss. “Okay, sweetheart, but be safe out there. Murphrees are still about. And always keep both eyes on Micah.” 

He continues walking into the gang with John and you mount your horse and quickly trot down the trail, trying to make up for lost time. Once you get to the end of the trail, you have to take a minute to figure out which direction Micah went. It rained a few hours ago, so the mud is still drying, allowing you to see which tracks are the freshest. You identify  the tracks leaving the trail you’re on, seeing their headed east towards Annesburg. 

After cantering down a ways, you find Micah up ahead on the trail, going at a leisurely trot. You slow your horse down and stay a good ways back from him so he won’t hear you. You hope you’re just being paranoid and that he really is just on a reconnaissance journey, but something in your gut tells you otherwise. 

Nearly half an hour passes and Micah finally turns off the main trail and goes up into the trees. Up ahead, you see a small house peaking through the trunks. You leave your horse near the main trail and run through the foliage, always keeping Micah in sight. As the house gets closer, you can see it looks like it’s been empty for years. Half the roof is caved in and most of the windows are smashed. What is Micah doing here?

Your answer comes as soon as you ask it. The door to the cabin opens and you take shelter behind a large oak. As you peak through a willow bush to see Micah dismounting, a man steps out from the house. You recognize him immediately: Agent Milton, the Pinkerton. What the fuck is Micah doing with this piece of shit?

“Ah, Mr. Bell, we were growing worried,” Milton says as Micah walks up to the porch. You don’t like this, not at all. Micah hasn’t even drawn his gun yet.

“No need to worry about me, Pinkerton. I been busy.” 

“Yes I realize that. Stealing the dynamite as it was passing through Van Horn and I just received word that the Bacchus Bridge has been destroyed. I can’t imagine you had anything to do with that.” 

Micah gives him a nasty smile. “That was one of Dutch’s fine ideas. He figures, we blow up the only railroad that connects to Fort Wallace and soon the army will be making their way up to fix it, bringing tons of money as payroll with them.” 

“That’s what he thinks, does he?” Milton says in an almost bored fashion. 

“That’s exactly what he thinks. I helped him reach that conclusion myself. He figures by making enough noise, you folks won’t think it was us. He’s using the Indians up here to take his blame.” 

“Well, I don’t know about the wisdom behind these actions, Mr. Bell, but rest assured it will be delt with. Now, I have another plan for you. We want Van der Linde captured quickly with as little casualties as possible, so I have something-” 

Suddenly you’re grabbed from behind and your arms are wrenched behind you in a full nelson grip. You try to fight the person off without alerting Milton and Micah to your presence, but the person is too strong for you and he shuffles you out from behind the tree and into full view. 

“Mr. Milton! Think you have an uninvited guest to your meeting.” 

Milton and Micah look at you. Micah bares his teeth and glares while Milton looks mildly surprised. 

“A friend of yours, Mr. Bell? Forgive my saying, but she looks like one of your lot.” 

“That’s Morgan’s whore of a wife. What you doin’ here, Y/N?” 

Rage pounds through your body and you’d like nothing more than to go and beat Micah to a pulp, but the agent behind you still holds you too tight. 

“I had a feeling you were up to no good, Micah. Now here’s my proof.” 

“You ain’t got no proof, little girl.” 

“Oh yeah? Who’s Dutch gonna believe? Me, married to his right hand man and been with the gang ten years, or the rat he’s known six months?”

To your surprise, Micah begins laughing. “Come on, Y/N, he’s already filled Hosea’s spot with me. Think I can convince him easily enough.” 

“And when I tell Dutch you helped get Hosea and Lenny killed? What then, Micah?! You never liked Hosea, I bet you were looking for a way to get him out of your way for a long time! Dutch might be a fool, but he ain’t stupid.” 

Micah laughs again but then Milton calls his attention. “Mrs. Morgan has us in a difficult position, Mr. Bell. You were instructed to never be followed to our secret meetings. She needs to be delt with.” 

Milton pulls out his gun and aims it at you, but Micah stops him. You think he’s doing it out of mercy until he speaks. “You kill Morgan’s girl, Milton, we’re gonna have a bigger problem on our hands. Morgan might be dumb, but he’s a good fighter. One of the best I ever known. If he finds out his girl’s been shot, he’ll slaughter everyone he comes across.” 

Your memory flicks back to one time when an O’Driscoll had shot you in the leg during an ambush. Micah had been there too, so had Bill. Arthur was downright terrifying though when you’d been shot. There’d been two to one with the O’Driscolls having the upper hand, but Arthur killed them all and it had been so quick, Bill and Micah barely had time to help. 

“Then what do you recommend we do with her then, Mr. Bell?” Milton says. “We cannot let her return to your little gang.” 

Micah ponders for a moment, then he looks around. “We can’t kill her, but we can’t let her go either. But Morgan will come looking for her the moment he suspects she’s in trouble. This is Murphree country, ain’t it? I suggest you let me take care of her, I’ll make it seem like they got hold of her. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she can’t talk.” 

Micah walks down the steps and towards you. Panic courses through you and you try to fight your captor off again, but with no more luck than your previous attempts. When Micah’s close, he pulls out his pistol and hits you hard in the head, knocking you unconscious. 

*****************************************

Some time later, you begin to stir awake. Your head pounds from where Micah hit you, but you somehow manage to push the pain aside in order to assess your situation. When your vision grows accustomed to the darkness, you see you’re in a cave. Not the one at Beaver Hollow. It’s a rather short cave, in fact you can easily see the opening. A river gurgles happily just outside and across the way are thick trees. In front of you sits the shredded form of what must have been a small shelter, though it looks like it’s been here years. Around the cool cave, bones of animals are scattered around and you smell the fresh stink of wild dogs. 

You try to move but find you’re incapable of doing so. You’re forced down on your knees, your arms tied behind your head to a post so that your elbows are even with the top of your head. It’s hard to say how long you’ve been here, though the sunlight outside suggests a couple of hours. Your arms hurt from being tied up, but you can’t work the binds loose. 

You grunt as you try to escape from your bonds and out of the shelter walks Micah, who slides his big knife back into its sheath. 

“Bout time you woke up,” he says with a slight snarl. 

“You piece of shit, Micah. You sold us out.” 

“I told you a long time ago, Y/N, I’m a survivor. Anyone who’s spent an inkling of time with Dutch can see he’s circling the drain. Now I hate the Pinkertons as much as the rest of you, but I ain’t so stupid as to go down with the ship.” 

“You coulda just left!” you roar. “Dutch ain’t runnin’ a prison camp!” 

“And be left with nothing but the fond memories I hold?” Micah sneers. “Nah, that ain’t good enough. I want money just as much as Dutch does, but there’s no way to get it with him no more. Hosea’s death broke him, I just managed to get into his head enough and then once the Pinkertons have what they want, I get what I want.” 

“You fucking rat, Micah. We shoulda shot you months ago!” 

Micah responds by punching you hard in the face and you feel your lip split. It doesn’t stop you from glaring up at him. 

“Why couldn’t you have just minded your own business, hmm? It didn’t have to come down to this, you know. You coulda just stayed there, cuddled with Morgan like a good girl and lay in his bed while I take care of what needs to be done. But you just had to interfere. It’s a shame really.” Micah’s begun to pace around you and he kneels behind you so he can whisper in your ear. “Y’know, I always kinda liked you. Ya got fire in you that I have to admire. Mm, the things I wouldn’t have minded doing with you, but Morgan has you tied around his finger.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Micah. Even if I weren’t married, I’d slit your throat long before I let you put a finger on me.” 

He chuckles and stands up, walking up in front of you again. “See? That’s what I like about you. You don’t take shit, you fight back. I can see why Morgan married ya. It doesn’t make it any easier for me to do what I have to though. Just remember this,” he bends down to look you in the eye again, “your curiosity is what got you here. If it weren’t for your own actions, you wouldn’t be about to suffer like this.” 

Before you can say anything, Micah takes a bandana and ties it around your head, stuffing a good portion of it into your mouth. Then, he takes out his knife again and he begins carving into your body, making you scream into the bandana. You try to resolve yourself to not give him the satisfaction of your pain, but you don’t last very long. Tears leak from your eyes as he moves from your arms down to your abdomen. Soon it all becomes too much and you black out again. 

*********************************

Night falls and you’re brought sharply back to reality by cold water splashing your face. You gasp and blink, getting a sense of what’s going on. You’re still tied up to the post in the cave. You look down at your body and see that Micah must have stopped slicing you up when you passed out. He’s standing in front of you again, an empty bucket in hand. 

“Had a good rest, hmm? Well, I figure you’ve had long enough. Now, I want to remind you that I hate doin’ this to ya, hate doin’ this to your pretty body,” he runs a finger down your from your neck to your navel, making you shiver. “But I know you too well. There’s nothin’ I can do to prevent you from tellin’ Dutch what you saw.” 

He straightens up again. “Maybe we can come to an agreement. I’m gonna ask you a question and if I don’t like your answer, you get punished, deal?” 

As if you can answer, you’re still gagged. You tell him the answer with your eyes, hoping he can hear you saying to go fuck himself. He smacks his lips a bit and pulls out his gun, counting the bullets. Then, he grabs your gag and pulls it out, letting it hang beneath your chin. You take in a deep breath, finally able to breathe properly. 

Before you can do anything else, Micah points the gun at you. “Do you promise not to tell anyone what you saw me doin’ with the Pinkertons?” His voice is soft, threatening. 

Despite your fear and knowledge that he will shoot you, you shake your head. “I’m gonna tell every man, woman and child I see,” you spit. 

Micah sighs and pulls the trigger. The bullet slams into your thigh, making you cry out in pain. You grip the ropes binding your hands, wishing they would break. Micah pulls back the hammer again and points it at your other leg. 

“Do you promise not to tell anyone what you saw me doin’ with the Pinkertons?” 

“You can shoot me a thousand times, Micah,” you hiss with a small whimper, “and you can rip out my guts. My answer ain’t ever gonna be different.” 

Micah pulls the trigger again, shooting your other thigh and making you scream out again, sobs wrenching out from between your teeth. He sighs and puts the gun away, knowing he can only shoot you so many times before you die. It’s the last thing he wants because, despite things he’s said in the past, Micah is truly scared of what Arthur would do if he killed you. 

He stands for a few seconds in front of you, seeming to ponder something as you gasp from the pain. Your lip trembles as you try to swallow it and glare up at him. He stomps away suddenly, muttering something beneath his breath. This leaves you alone with nothing but your pain as company. There isn’t a place on your body that doesn’t hurt anymore. You can only hope that Arthur will soon grow suspicious and go looking for you, but even if he does, how will he find you? You don’t even know where you are.

Your thoughts begin to spiral from here, growing darker. Tears of both pain and fear leak from your eyes. Dread fills you at the thought that you’ll be left in Micah’s clutches until you finally die, whenever he lets you. 

***************************

Luckily for you, Micah has left to return to camp. He has to make an appearance in order to not arouse suspicions. Unfortunately for him, this immediately sets Arthur on edge as he knew you were following Micah, yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

 “Micah,” Arthur says, walking up to him. 

“What is it, cowpoke?” 

“You seen Y/N anywhere? She left about the same time you did, but she ain’t come back.” 

“You know how she is. Out for days on end, always coming back covered in mud and hauling in a mountain of skins. She's fine, Morgan.” 

Arthur didn’t like the way Micah’s eyes darted around when he’d spoken of you, and he also noticed small specks of blood on Micah’s knuckles. Of course, Micah’s known for getting into fistfights even in the middle of nowhere, but Arthur doesn’t like how things are stacking up. He’s worried, but he decides to play it cool for a bit. Maybe you will be back shortly dripping in animal furs. 

By the next afternoon though, Arthur is thoroughly worried. He’d gone out in the morning to look for you with no success. He found your horse by a cabin, but not you. All your weapons were on your horse as well, so where were you? By the cabin, he found your gunbelt. It wasn’t cut off, so for some reason, either you or someone else removed it. He packed it back up on your horse and went back to camp. Something about the whole thing felt off. 

Micah’s been lingering around camp all day, trying to play things cool. He’d snuck out while Arthur was out looking for you in order to give you some food and water, not wanting you to die on him. He needed to keep you alive long enough until he figured out what to do about Arthur. You’d refused the food of course, telling Micah a plethora of things to do to himself. 

The sun’s beginning to set and Arthur is growing desperate. He’s sitting in his tent when he hears Micah talking to Javier and Bill. 

“If we’re not more careful, we’re gonna lose more folks like poor Hosea, Lenny and Sean. I have a nagging suspicion that things are only going to get worse, and that someone else is gonna disappear. After all, someone’s been doing things behind Dutch’s back. Look at Morgan, goin’ to the Indians while Du-” 

He’s cut off suddenly by Arthur grabbing him by his collar and shaking him a little. “Where is she, you little shit?” 

“Let go of me!” 

“WHERE IS SHE?!” 

Micah claws at Arthur’s hands. “Why the hell would I know? I ain’t seen your damn wife since yesterday!” 

“Oh really? Because she followed you out of camp. Next thing I know, she’s nowhere to be found but her horse was abandoned by a cabin along with her gunbelt. Where the hell is she?!” 

Dutch marches over and he and Bill grab Arthur and force him off of Micah. 

“Arthur! What is going on here?” Dutch demands. 

“My wife, Dutch! My wife is missing and this maggot knows where she is!” 

“That’s a damn lie! I have no more idea where she is more than anyone else here! For all we know, she’s the one feeding information to the Pinkertons.” 

“Really?” Sadie says, holding a repeater in her hands. “Because she told me that if anyone’s a rat, it’s you.” 

“That’s exactly what someone who is double crossing us would say!” Micah says, smiling to everyone else. “The fingers are pointing at me because I’ve been here the shortest amount of time.”

“I’ve been here less time,” Charles says defiantly, “and I’m not being accused, nor is anyone else. Of course, I haven’t been the one sneaking off at odd times every few days.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Micah hisses. “For all we know, she’s talking to the law right now, telling them right where we are!” 

Arthur bares his teeth, still being held back by Bill, but before he can say anything, Uncle steps forward. “That girl’s been here ten years, and she’s married to Arthur. Why would she sell out her own family?”

“Don’t ask me to try and make sense of the traitor’s mind, old man, there ain’t no logic in there. Dutch,” Micah turns to him, almost begging for him to side with him. “I reckon she’ll saunter in here later tonight. The moment she does, we should question her.” 

Dutch is narrowing his eyes, thinking. Arthur grabs his attention. 

“Dutch, why would she betray us? What does she have to gain from doin’ that?” 

“Maybe a sackload of money, cowpoke. I reckon for the right price, she’d leave your bed,” Micah growls. 

That does it and Arthur yanks himself free, launching himself onto Micah. “You son of a bitch! You slimy snake!” He starts punching and hitting Micah, but Charles, Bill and John have to work together to pull him off again. Micah spits out a gob of blood. 

“He’s crazy, Dutch. See? I bet he’s in league with her!” 

“Shut up, Micah!” John snarls. “If anyone’s got a price to betray us, it’s you! You were the one who put us onto the Blackwater heist, and them Pinkertons have been onto us since you got back from Guarma.” 

“Why would I sell you out?” Micah snaps. 

“Because you have the most to gain from us all dyin’,” Sadie snarls, pointing her repeater at Micah. 

“Enough!” Dutch says. “Micah, do you or do you not know where Y/N is?” 

“Of course not, Dutch. Last time I saw her was here in camp yesterday.” 

“I saw you leaving camp early this morning,” Charles says. “Where’d you go?”

“I was scouting.” 

“Again? But you did that yesterday,” John points out. 

Dutch furrows his brow. “Micah, why would you be scouting? We’re not looking to leave here yet until we have more money. There’s still been no word on the army’s train to fix the bridge, so why are you scouting?” 

“Because we will need to be leaving eventually, Dutch, why not learn the best route now?” 

“Because there’s no point to it until we have a way out of here,” Dutch says. Micah can tell Dutch is starting to see through his lie. 

“Look, I can prove to you I’m not the rat. I’ll go hunt Y/N now, once I find her I’ll bring her right back and you can all question her yourselves.” 

Dutch sighs but nods once. “You have six hours, Micah. Find her, bring her straight back here.” 

Arthur throws Bill, Charles and John off him. “I’m goin’ too.” 

“I ain’t takin’ you, cowpoke.” 

“I don’t wanna go with you, Micah!” Arthur roars. “But she’s my wife, I’m gonna go look for her!” 

Before anyone else can say anything, Arthur mounts up. To his surprise, Charles and John mount up as well. 

“We’re coming with you, Morgan,” John says. “We don’t know what kind of trouble she might be in.” 

Arthur nods and they all set out. Micah heads in the other direction, opposite of where your cave lies in case someone tries to follow him again. 

************************************

You stare at the tin mug of water Micah left behind. You’re desperately thirsty, but you’ve no way to get it and take a drink as you’re still tied up. The binds around your wrists are beginning to rub you raw and your legs are still bleeding, along with the many cuts across your body. You’ve never experienced this much pain in your life. 

Outside, you can see the sun is setting again. You haven’t seen Micah since this morning, but you haven’t seen anyone else either. You tried screaming in order to get the attention of a potential passerby, but you screamed yourself hoarse before anyone heard you. What little hope you have left has long since left your body. 

Micah marches into the cave, looking furious, his face purpling with bruises. 

“Who beat you up, Micah? I wanna send them a thank-you note,” you spit, though your voice is raw. 

“Was your good ol’ husband, but I got a little gift for him myself.” Micah slips his knife out. “Change of plans, girl. I was intending to keep you here a long time, but your damn husband is starting to suspect me. Man’s smarter than I give him credit for.” 

Micah suddenly grabs your jaw and starts trying to reach in your mouth for your tongue. You thrash around and end up sinking your teeth into his finger, making him cry out. When he pulls out his finger, you see blood. 

“Damn it!” he grunts. He wants to make sure you can’t talk, but you’re still putting up quite a fight. He can tell he has to wear you down even more. Putting his knife away, he gives you a disgusted look and then he begins pounding his fist into your face, arms and ribs. After a few moments, he tries wrestling your tongue out again, but you spit blood into his face. 

“You little bitch!” he snarls and he pulls his knife out again. He plunges it into the very edge of your abdomen in a place he knows he won’t kill you, but it hurts like hell. You scream out in pain and he yanks the knife out, causing you to sob again. 

“Do I have to skin you, bitch?” he growls, trying to wrestle you so he can take your tongue yet again. Still though, you try with all your might to fight him off, biting whatever part of his hand you can reach. 

“You think I’m not willing to do the worst to you?” he says. He takes his knife and suddenly grips your face harder than he’s done before. He tilts your head back and holds the point of his knife above your left eye. 

You’re just about to beg Micah not to when he suddenly shoots back and up. He flips over and lands with a loud thud, revealing Arthur. 

“Get your hands off my wife, you sack of shit,” he growls. He takes one look at you and his face immediately goes from his terrifying scowl to a worried expression. He gestures for John to take his place on pinning Micah down and he comes over to you, slipping his knife out and cutting your bonds off. 

“Arthur,” you groan. 

“Shh, shh. I got ya, darlin’.” 

The moment your arms are free, your body slinks down and he catches you. Once you’re in his arms, he shrugs his coat off and drapes it around you. “I got ya, I got ya.” He looks back at Charles and John. “Get that sack of shit tied up and out of here. I’ll take care of her.” 

They nod and do just that. Arthur picks you up gently as he can and brings you outside of the cave and then lays you down on your back beside the river. You try to cry, feeling relieved and finally safe, but you can’t seem to produce any tears. 

“Easy, sweetheart. That bastard did a number on you. Gonna get you cleaned up.” 

“Arthur,” you whine again, just wanting him to hold you. 

“Shh, shh, I know, darlin’, I know. I’ll be gentle as I can.” He unbuttons the bottom of your shirt so he can bandage the big cut, stating Grimshaw can stitch it up. He then inspects your legs. “Shit, bullets are still in there. Darlin’, I’m real sorry about this. But we gotta get you home like this, I can’t get ‘em out.” 

You nod stiffly and he lifts you up easily, though painfully. He apologizes profusely, but somehow he manages to get you onto his horse. Although he tries to make the ride gentle, it’s incredibly painful. Each step the horse takes jerks your body. You bury the back of your head into Arthur’s chest, who is still apologizing. 

After what feels like an eternity, you see Beaver Hollow come into view. Arthur pats your shoulder gently. “Told you I’d get ya home, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on, okay? We’re gonna skin that bastard.” 

The moment Arthur stops his horse, you slump almost lifeless against him. Dutch, Javier and the girls come running over. 

“Y/N!” Dutch calls out. “Y/N, what happened?” 

“I fucking told you, Dutch! We caught Micah doin’ his best to carve her up! Where is that little shit?” 

“He’s tied up near the cave,” Grimshaw says, coming over to the horse. “Come on, let’s get her to bed.” 

Javier and Dutch help lift you down, but it’s even more painful than the entire ride back to Beaver Hollow. You let out a cry of pain and they both apologize. Dutch tries picking you up bridal style, but Arthur pushes him out of the way and picks you up, which you prefer. You’ve been mistrustful of Dutch for some time now. 

As Arthur carries you, you hear John talking to Micah. “We’re gonna kill you for what you done to her.” 

You have a horrible suspicion that none of them know that Micah’s the traitor. “Arthur… Arthur stop. We can’t kill him.” 

“What you talking about, darlin’? If anyone’s earned a bullet in their head, he has.” 

“I’m not saying we won’t, but not yet,” you say between gritted teeth. “Just not yet.” 

Arthur sighs and stops. “Let’s get you to bed first, then you can tell Dutch what you know.” 

You don’t have the energy to tell him otherwise, so you let him take you to your tent and lay you down into the cot. Grimshaw comes over, barking orders at the other girls to get supplies to start patching you up. She tries pushing Arthur out, but he refuses to leave so she lets him. Just as she starts trying to get down to work, you stop her with what strength you have left. 

“Dutch. Get Dutch,” you say. 

Grimshaw rolls her eyes, but complies. Dutch comes over, looking worried. 

“Micah…” you say. “Micah’s the rat, Dutch. I saw him talking to Milton. He told them about your plan for the bridge.” 

“You say you saw this?” Dutch says. He looks at you hard for a moment. “I want to believe you, Y/N, but I have a problem: Micah says he saw you talking to Pinkertons.” 

“Then why’d he torture her?” Arthur demands. “If he’s the innocent one, then why didn’t he bring her here for us to deal with her? Y/N told me last time she was in camp that she was gonna follow him. Next thing we know, she’s tied up in some cave with Micah trying to pull her eyes out.”

“Micah says he did that as payback for her betraying us.” 

“The Pinkertons busted me,” you say. “They wanted me dead, but Micah knew… knew if I died, you’d kill him right away, Arthur. Knew his cover would be blown the moment my death was discovered. But he knew he needed to silence me. That’s why he shot my legs, Dutch. Was tryin’ to get me to promise to not say a word.” 

“Dutch,” Arthur says, “if she’s the traitor, it wouldn’t make sense for her bein’ the one all tore up like this.”

“I say we do to him what he’s done to her,” Grimshaw snarls. You feel a surge of warmth towards her. Sure, she might have her flaws, but she’s always been protective of you and the other girls. “We’ll get him to talk if he’s the one lying.” 

Dutch sighs, but then he nods. “Take him into the cave, get him tied up. Let Charles have at him for a while, then I’ll talk to him.” 

With that settled, Grimshaw and the other girls get down to work. They start rooting around in your legs for the bullets, which is so painful that you pass out again, which Arthur is grateful for as he holds your hand. It breaks his heart to see you like this, but at least now you don’t have to be present for the pain.

****************************

Two days have passed and you still haven’t woken. Arthur’s more worried about you than he’s ever been, and he’s more angry. He wanted to be the one to beat Micah senseless, but Dutch pleaded him not to. Dutch wasn’t entirely convinced you were the one telling the truth as Micah had spun his web very well. He figured the others should be the one to question Micah as Arthur was too involved. 

Arthur has stayed by your side the entire time you were being worked on, and then long after the girls were done patching you up. Nothing has shaken his anger, but as he sits by your cot holding your hand, Sadie walks up to him. 

“Bastard’s dead,” she growled. “He didn’t even get half the shit he did to her before spilling the beans. He’s been talkin’ to them Pinkertons sometime now, he was the one who told them about Saint Dennis.” 

Arthur feels a further tightening in his gut. “So Hosea…” 

“He’s the one who got Hosea killed, not Molly,” Sadie says, sitting down at the foot of your bed. “Dutch heard the whole thing. He’s the one who shot Micah.” 

Arthur sighs, feeling conflicted. While he’s grateful that Micah’s dead, he’s livid that he was the one responsible for Hosea, Lenny and so much trouble. 

“Stay strong, Arthur,” Sadie says. “Y/N needs you to be for her. There ain’t nothin’ you can do anyways. It’s over.” 

“It ain’t over, Sadie. Dutch might know the truth now, but he’s still crazy. I doubt this will clear his head.” 

“Maybe not. I guess all we can do is wait.” 

A few more hours pass and the sun sets before you begin to stir. Pain comes slamming back into your body, making you whimper, but Arthur hasn’t moved. He clutches your hand the second he hears you and he begins comforting you. 

When you’ve woken up a little more, he tells you everything that’s happened since your return. You feel a surge of relief, and maybe even a little pride that you took a far worse beating than Micah and didn’t break. However, due to the pain and even shock of what could have happened, you’re shaken. 

Arthur must be able to see you trembling. Gently as he can, he shifts you so that he can sit right beside you and hold you against his chest. The warmth of his body is a welcome relief as you’re chilled, but it’s the sound of his heart that brings the best form of comfort. As he brushes your hair, you look up at him. 

“Thank you for finding me, Arthur. You saved my life.” 

He smiles and kisses your head. “Well, you’ve saved me plenty. I still owe you more.” 

[destinyc1020]

people aren’t just fans or antis.. there’s black and white thinking assuming someone is an anti because they are skeptical to jump to conclusions over things that speak to renewed friendship, tom exaggerates a lot, he’s been revealing & more candid in cherry interviews but still contradicts himself that combo is chaotic 😭 And makes it harder to tell why he bluntly denied dating z a few days ago when the interviewer didn’t even ask

Sissss, I was referring to those (fans or antis or WHOEVER) who obviously SAW some of the Tomdaya receipts and STILL refused to believe that they WERE dating. I’m talking about Tomdaya 1.0.  I wasn’t talking about Tomdaya 2.0.  

Let’s not play dumb here. Most people who adamantly swear/swore that Tom and Z weren’t dating are NOT just “casual” observers from the general public. 🙄   MOST of them are fans of either party, OR are ANTIS.  Because most people in the gp wouldn’t even care who they’re dating. In fact, MOST people in gp would probably actually assume that they were dating just given a few FACTS.  It was literally the worst-kept open secret ever lol. 😏  

With that said... Idk how anyone can read ALL of these mountains of receipts from the Tomdaya Timeline and STILL believe that Tom and Z were “just friends” for all those years... 🙄 That is just delusion at its finest lol. I knew they were dating on the DL way back in 2017 when we didn’t even have a ton of receipts. It only took me a weekend of light “digging” too. 😏    

C’mon on now lol....“Just friends” who put off dating OTHER people for 3 YEARS in order to spend time and be “besties” with each other...??  Give me a freakin’ break lol...  😂

[yakocchi]

Spring Love with the Prince (Royal Garden) // Voiced Mini Stories

Well, this event is nice because its contents (the avatars, the voice lines, etc.) appear to be new – as in it’s not all lazy reprinted crud from the ancient BMP1 platform. It seems like for 2020 they’ve managed to get a hold of all the seiyuu and recorded new voice lines haha yes

Translations and Event Fluff Behind the Cut!

Characters are organized by story order (the order you receive them)

Glenn (CV. Ishikawa Kaito)

[G]: “Ah, a hairy caterpillar-! … Just joking with you.” [G]: “…Could it be that you’re upset with me? Sorry.” [G]: “…Huh? You were just pretending to be mad? Haah… Thank goodness.” [G]: “I was thinking that you were upset because I made fun of you, so I got a bit flustered there.” [G]: “Really, I’m too weak when it comes to you. Even knowing that, I can’t change a thing about it and it’s frustrating.”

Zain (CV. Hirakawa Daisuke)

[Z]: “I’m completely mesmerized – not by… the cherry blossoms, but by My Lady mesmerized by the blossoms.” [Z]: “Stay still for a moment. A petal got in your hair...” (kiss) [Z]: “I lied. You standing still among the dancing flurry of the blossoms… was so beautiful, so naturally I simply… was swayed to want to do such a thing.” [Z]: “Would it be all right if I do it… some more?”

hirarin as zain is just……..

also there really was a kiss sfx but I cut it out by accident when editing lol whoopsies

Joshua (CV. Namikawa Daisuke)

[J]: “It is my first time partaking in this supposed ‘cherry blossom viewing’, but I could not possibly think that it would be this much fun.” [J]: “Somehow or another, I tend to naturally smile when it appears that you’re enjoying yourself.” [J]: “You, truly… I’m just no match for you.”

Edward (CV. Okitsu Kazuyuki)

[E]: “The descending, transient cherry blossoms truly are beautiful.” [E]: “Though it is only that way because I get to see something that is, indeed, always more gorgeous than these flowers.” [E]: “I may have never felt such an impression before.” [E]: “’What could that something be,’ you ask?” [E]: “…It is you – my beautiful partner who need not scatter away.”

Keith (CV. Kondo Takashi)

[K]: “Spring at Oriens is also pretty nice, huh.” [K]: “…Just a moment ago, you standing there in the midst of the storm of blossoms was so freakin’ stunning, I was honestly a bit enchanted by it.” [K]: “…Man, I’m all drunk on that blossom-viewing sake.” [K]: “I said something that was pretty out-of-character of me.”

Roberto (CV. Kimura Ryohei)

[R]: “It’s the perfect weather for cherry blossom viewing!” [R]: “Now, the bento you woke up early to make for me is also the best, but–“ [R]: “I missed the taste of your family’s dango!”

…………sir this is not as heartfelt as the others im gonna need u to return home-

Wilfred (CV. Sakurai Takahiro)

[W]: “Apparently in your country there’s a saying that goes along the lines of ‘the dango over the flowers.’” [W]: “From my angle, it’s you over the flowers and over the dango.” [W]: “The cherry blossoms are indeed very beautiful; but when I get to see things with you, simply anything and everything ends up looking beautiful.”

The saying he’s talking about 「花より団子」has a meaning that’s kind of like “choosing substance over style”, or preferring practicality over aesthetics and/or style. Mind, it’s not used as a positive thing to describe someone haha. It’s kind of like criticizing someone for not appreciating or understanding the beauty of something

Yakov (CV. Yasumoto Hiroki)

[Y]: “These ‘cherry blossoms’ come and fall rather fleetingly.” [Y]: “However, simply the scattering of all these petals at once is a magnificent sight.” [Y]: “I like it. I want to see these blossoms with you for next year as well. It’s a promise.”

Brief Event Fluff

This event is in their relatively-new “Royal Garden” format. It’s just a revamp of collection events, but it’s cute bc you can take their pets out to war to bring back some extra points every three hours. This is probably the most official “rendition” of the BMP1 character’s “pets”. They’re not like the BMP2 charas (where most everyone has an actual pet) so lol with some of them:

wil’s is a terrifying prince rabbit doll bc… carrots or something. somebody retcon in a bootleg lassie for him please i hate looking at this thing

keith is his dumb lion fursona like kevin’s. it even stands upright and everything

roberto has a legit rabbit, which i think has been his motif for a long time and was then further solidified with the rabbit doll in his time travel bday story.

joshua’s is Kyuu. idr if kyuu made any named appearances in his English content, but kyuu is that same grey cat ↓

(there’s more but u get the message) sieg’s cat is “Kyuu the Third” where Sieg’s cat is related to this Kyuu lol

glenn has a hamster(?). kuon has a squirrel (and i think shion the chipmunk?) so it might be a bootleg mascot of that

ed has a pegasus-type-looking horse. I think Arionne exists only in the non-social continuity, and the one BMP fansite master I look to claims that the horse is named Raphael. idk I never really bothered to play much ed content so hmmm

yakov obv has Daifuku which still cracks me up bc it is among the smallest and least threatening of the animals. charas like ivan and ryuo have wolves and tigers which are still cool but cute but the guy with hunting and shooting as his listed hobbies has a very small owl that doesn’t do anything cool except be a klepto and bother him at work

zain has a panther-like cat, identical to jin. but if I really want to go wehhh zain master race zain had the black cat motif in his avatar items before they even bothered to make jin a major character iirc. the fansite master seems to think it’s supposed to be a call to Suzu (the cat in Zain’s time travel bday route) but hmmm idk

[goldenroutledge]

get to know me :)

thanks for tagging me @rafeyybabyy and @rosylinn 🥺 ily

1. what is the color of your hairbrush? black

2. name a food you never eat? mayonaise

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? eating lunch

5. what’s you’re favorite candy bar? 3 musketeers or reese’s peanut butter cups

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? yes! stl cardinals games and stl blues games

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? hahah same

8. what is your favorite ice cream? mint chocolate chip

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? water

10. do you like your wallet? ehh kinda i want a new one

11. what is the last thing you ate? raspberries

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? unfortunately no 😔 i love to shop tho

13. what was the last sporting event you watched? chiefs vs chargers game like a couple sundays ago

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? i love the cheddar & caramel popcorn mix

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? my dad

16. ever go camping? nope but i would go to like a cabin or something that would be cool

17. do you take vitamins? yes

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? no

19. do you have a tan? my skin is naturally tan so yea ig lol

20. do you prefer chinese or pizza? pizza

21. do you drink soda through a straw? i dont drink soda

22. what color socks do you usually wear? black

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? yes sometimes

24. what terrifies you? rejection🥰

25. look to your left, what do you see? my dresser

26. what chore do you hate the most? vacuuming the stairs

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? kangaroos and hugging a koala

28. what’s your favorite flavor of soda? havent had it in years but as a kid it was sprite ESPECIALLY mcdonalds sprite i drank that shit religiously when i was 11&12

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? drive thru

30. what’s your favorite number? dont have one lol

31. last person you talked to? my friend

32. favorite cut of meat? dont really eat it that often so idk

33. last song you listend to? belong to you by sabrina claudio & 6lack

34. last book you read? a rafe cameron book on wattpad LMAO

35. favorite day of the week? friday

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? yes

37. how do you like your coffee? def more sweet than bitter, i like the iced white mocha at starbucks. especially w sweet cream & caramel drizzle basic ik

38. favorite pair of shoes? slip on vans

39. time you normally get up? between 6:30 and noon its all over the place

40. what do you prefer sunrise or sunset? both r so pretty i cant pick

41. how many blankets on your bed? 5

42. describe your kitchen plates. white, round and glass nothing fancy

43. describe your kitchen at the moment? a little too cluttered for my liking

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? no because i am not legally of age and i definitely do not drink black cherry white claws. (for legal purposes this is a joke)

45. do you play cards? no

46. what color is your car? black

47. can you change a tire? nope haha maybe should learn tho

48. your favorite state? new york or cali

49. favorite job you’ve had? i used to babysit this adorable little girl she was so fun to babysit, it didnt even feel like a job we were actually bffs

50. no pressure tags: @tempestuousjj @nxsmss @peachydrews @ilovejjmaybank @mxltifandoms06 @drewswannabegirl @obx-slut

[sessenaa]

Question game

f@katarrinskey tagged me so I just answered everything because I was bored.

Name: Felix

Gender: ftm male

Height: 1m80 or 5‘9 for you heathens

Sexuality: demisexual bi

Favorite Animal: cats

Cats or Dogs: I‘m allergic to dogs but I love and grew up with them, that said… Cats all the way

Current Time: 6 pm

Dream Job: Idk… Something to do with my sociology major I guess lol

When I Made This Blog: uuuhhh 2015 I think??? I‘m not sure. Didn‘t really use it until a few years later.

Why I Made This Blog: I don‘t remember lol

Reason For URL: Apparently sessena was my imaginary friend when I was a toddler. It‘s also what my dad used to go by online.

Followers: 449 as of me last checking

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? Got a comb… It‘s black

2. Name a food you never eat: Meat. I‘m a vegetarian lol

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? Cold. Cheers mum thanks for the bad circulation

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Finishing up a drawing

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? I‘m not really a chocolate person tbh

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yes. Football (soccer) but I was too young to really remember anything.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? Told one of my cats to move over

8. What is your favorite ice cream? Funnily enough chocolate but I like most things except for vanilla

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Tea

10. Do you like your wallet? Yes! It‘s got the Hyrule emblem and I got it from a very good friend!

11. What is the last thing you ate? Mushrooms and mashed potato with a salad uwu

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Nah

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? Good question… The last olympic winter games I think???

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Sweet

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? My boyfriend

16. Ever been camping? Yeh. A few times with our fire departments youth group and just with friends

17. Do you take vitamins? No

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? No

19. Do you have a tan? Hard to avoid in the summer when you help with the garden and walk the dog. I‘m a pretty pale person though

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Chinese though I never say no to some good za

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? When I have the drive to grab one yes

22. What color socks do you usually wear? Socks? I dont know them. I go barefoot or in birkenstocks when I can because I am a carricature of the area I live in lmao

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? I can‘t drive :( But I wouldn‘t.

24. What terrifies you? Oh a lot of things. Space, heights, dissapointing people… yknow

25. Look to your left, what do you see? My TV only used for video games

26. What chore do you hate most? Laundry

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? The girl on tiktok who sings Iconic australian media moments

28. What’s your favorite soda? Cherry Cola

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I go in but I hate to do that now because of the pandemic

30. What’s your favorite number? 9 because that was one of the few I didn‘t have trouble multiplying in elementary school (and now haha)

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My brother

32. Favorite meat? I really liked beef when I still ate meat

33. Last song you listened to? Deviltown by cavetown because I am a certified transmasc lol

34. Last book you read? I don‘t read much anymore, I think it was the shepherd‘s crown by Terry Pratchett tho

35. Favorite day of the week? Saturday. It‘s dnd day!

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? What do I look like? A wizard?

37. How do you like your coffee? I stopped drinking coffee a while ago but sweet with cream

38. Favorite pair of shoes? My birkenstocks which almost have holes in them lol

39. Time you usually get up? 8-9 am

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset? Sunset

41. How many blankets on your bed? 2 and a million pillows

42. Describe your kitchen plates: A colorful mix of plates because we were too poor for matched sets and now we have enough to not buy new ones

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment: Clean thanks to my mum

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? I barely ever drink but pina colada if I‘m out and about

45. Do you play cards? Not really. I can play mau mau and that‘s it. (Idk what it‘s called in english. Its basically uno but with normal playing cards)

46. What color is your car? Don’t have one, my mum‘s is a black convertible that is older than me tho

47. Can you change a tire? Probably. I can do most things with a good tutorial

48. Favorite state or province? ??? I liked Portugal when I was little… Weird question

49. Favorite job you’ve had? I had one job as a kitchen helper/ cleaner and it fucking sucked. Also had to do service there which killed something deep inside of me.

Ah I tag @bubbakenzie and @foryourownbosom