#this piece was very impulsive and Not Planned in the slightest. i just wanted to make myself sad :)

[lycorim]

(TFW you go just a little too hard in your sexy villain era and have Some Regrets now.)

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲, luke hughes

betty, i'm here on your doorstep and i planned it out for weeks now but it's finally sinkin' in betty, right now is the last time ── yeah, i showed up at your party will you have me? will you love me? will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it? will it patch your broken wings? ── the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you so i showed up at your party

──

♡ ─ word count | 1.5k

♡ ─ summary | a small incident at luke's draft party causes a whole lot of drama you never expected to happen.

♡ ─ warnings | unedited lol, angst!!!!!!!!!!!! so much angst, slightly asshole!luke, let me know if i missed anything.

♡ ─ taglist | tbd

♡ ─ ev's notes | yayaya, my first piece of writing published on tumblr!!! please let me know your thoughts, i'm very open to (respectful) criticism.

ALSO desperately want some hockey (or literally any lol) moots so please send in an ask to become moots!

You had no idea know why you were here, sitting outside his house.

Well that was a lie ─ you knew why you were here. You didn't know what you would say, not in the slightest. You knew you had to make some kind of plan in your mind before you went in, led completely by adrenaline and impulse.

There were a few familiar cars outside the house. You knew the red Kia was his parents' and the Quinn's gray Ram. Your stomach was filled with slight dread as you thought about how this entire thing happened.

You shook your head to snap out of your thoughts ─ it didn't matter now. You were gonna fix it and get your best friend back, no matter what you had to do.

You knew tonight was Jack's birthday party. Before this whole thing happened, you were invited to the party ─ it wouldn't have been right to not have you all here with them. Well, until the fight.

You took a deep exhale before turning off your car, looking up at the familiar house. You got out of the car and shut the door, walking up to the house. Before you even had gotten on his front porch, the door swung open and you immediately paused, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

You were met with him and suddenly all the memories of the past month came flooding back.

──

THREE WEEKS AGO

──

The loud cheers from everyone around you would've been distressing if not for how happy you felt. You were screaming along with them, cheering.

You knew that Luke would've been drafted to the Devils for a fact but it didn't dissipate the happiness that filled the room. Luke turned to you and you couldn't help but hug him tightly, as the whole room shook with excitement.

For a moment, it just felt like time stopped and it was just you two in the whole world ─ despite the 20 people who were surrounding all of you, it didn't matter. As you let him go, it seemed like you weren't the only one who felt that way as you locked eyes with Luke. He had a true, authentic smile on this face.

Every time he smiled, your heart leapt out of your chest. This time was no different; the same smile you sported on your own lips, playing off each other's emotions, and the heat you could feel rising on your cheeks. Everyone patted and tugged him around in excitement but his eyes were locked on you, your arm perched on his shoulder.

Once the celebrations died down, you set off for a quick drink break in the kitchen. As you turned around from the fridge, drink in hand, you were met with Luke's gaze. Your cheeks glowed, the familiar rush of excitement tingling through your veins. His smile was just as contagious as yours you begun talking.

"You excited?" You spoke. You hadn't talked to Luke the whole night because he was the man of the night. You were happy for him, of course ─ you missed him, though.

"For what?" He was joking of course. He usually hated being the center of the attention but this time it felt different ─ he felt deserving of it.

You rolled your eyes playfully, laughing. "Moving to Jersey, being close to Jack again."

Luke nods, a smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I missed him. But I don't know, it would feel weird not playing with everyone else. And you not being at every home game." He whispered the last part out, almost sounding ashamed of it.

You felt the smile on your face get brighter and bigger. "Well I'm gonna miss watching you play live, Lukey."

He winced at the silly nickname, but couldn't help but smile as he looked down at you leaning against the kitchen island, comfortably close to him. "You could always come out to Jersey."

"Yeah, maybe."

A still silence hung in the air between the two of you, but it was not uncomfortable. There was a subtle switch in the air as Luke's eyes remained fixed on you. Neither of you spoke, content to soak in each other's company in the warmth of the moment, aware that there was something more to be said but not ready to be said quite yet.

You could almost see his thoughts racing, the wheels turning, trying to decide what to do next. "Y/N?" He asked softly, the smile slowly slipping from his face. He wanted to speak up, to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. He could only let out a whisper, his expression growing more uncertain with each passing moment.

A sense of anxiety crept in but even so, you knew exactly what was about to happen. He leaned in and let his lips brush softly against yours in a quick peck. It didn't feel wrong, not even a little bit — it actually felt perfect. You could tell he had been thinking about this for a while and you'd also contemplated it in the past. However, despite the fact that it felt right, it was wrong — not just wrong, but completely off limits.

"Y/N?" You heard another voice echo in the kitchen and you both whipped your heads.

──

PRESENT

──

Luke folded his arms and averted his gaze from you. You felt your heart crack a bit from his bitter expression. The sound of laughter coming from inside filled you with a sudden sense of clarity and the realization that you could be ruining his night crept in. It was sobering and the thought of how his family would be disappointed, upset with your presence there. It made the guilt and shame that you felt sting all the more.

But you had to. You had to get him back, no matter what.

You opened your mouth to speak but before the words could come out, he started speaking first.

"Why are you here, Y/N?" Your name felt like a curse when he said it, like knives piercing your heart. He always spoke to you with such kindness and care, but now it felt almost spiteful. He looked at you through narrowed eyes, and there was no warmth left in his voice, only cold accusation.

"I wanted to talk to you, Luke." You answered, your eyes moving to look down, shamefully. "Can we talk?"

Luke scoffed; typically a playful sound, but this time it cut like a knife. "Y/N, I just… not now, please." There was hurt in his voice, a sharp contrast from his usual sweet nature. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with unspoken words.

"Luke, I can't stand this! I miss you!" You finally snapped and he looked taken aback. "What did you expect me to do? You just kissed me and─and I had no time to process it when Morgan had walked in!"

"You're blaming me, now? You never told me that Morgan liked you─"

"Luke! You're not listening to me." You sighed loudly, moving closer. "It doesn't matter, I just want to talk to me again. It's not my fault. And─and it doesn't yours, either." You explained anxiously, playing subconsciously with your rings.

Luke licked his lips, his gaze flicking up to the the ceiling in thought before looking back at you.

“I know you don’t want to talk about this, Luke, but I really need to.” You paused, feeling your heart rate speed up.

"There's nothing to talk about, Y/N." He said, plainly. "I like─" He paused, his thoughts dying on his tongue. "─liked you."

Your heart broke. Liked? "Luke..."

"We're gonna be leaving for Jersey the day after tomorrow, Y/N." He sighed. "I'll be out of your hair then. You won't have to worry about me."

"Luke, you're my best friend!"

"No, you're not my damn best friend, Y/N!" Luke shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "You're more than just my best friend and I don't know how you could be so clueless! I never wanted you like a best friend, I liked you, and it's been right in front of your face this whole time but you've too oblivious to notice it." Luke yelled, his frustration and anger boiling over.

You taken aback and felt paralyzed, your mind scrambling to form a coherent response. Your mouth was dry, your heart racing a hundred miles per hour. You desperately wanted to say something, anything, but your words were stuck in your throat. The moment dragged on, as if time had paused just for this.

Luke had never blown up on anyone, especially you. His voice echoed and you could feel everyone from inside was now listening in. This suddenly felt a like a mistake, you shouldn't have come and ruined his night.

Finally, she managed a strangled out reply. "Luke-" she breathed, her voice shaking as she spoke. "I knew that, I-"

"No you didn't." His anger had dissipated, now he just seemed tired. "It doesn't matter now, okay? I'm done with this." He pointed between them.

Again, you opened your mouth to speak only to be met with the slam of the door. You stood there, in the cool March air as you finally let the tears fall.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

[lieblinqs]

retrouvaille. (n.) the joy of being reunited with someone again after a long time apart.

simon 'ghost' riley x civilian!reader

after getting heavily injured on a mission, simon gets a warm welcome from his beloved - but he needs them to promise him one thing.

//wounds, basic angst, very fluffy at the end! f!reader but only bcs “lass” is used once

word count: 2,134

You never really notice how small your apartment feels when there's no one but you - how comforting it is to finally feel his presence back after weeks and months of an empty house - you couldn't even call it a home until then. Because your home was standing tall in your doorframe, hunched just the slightest bit, dressed in gear and was reaching for your body. "I can't make it if you don't promise me to be okay."

"I don't want to be okay without you."

You've never been so on point with keeping track of time until you've had to wait for Simon to come back from deployment. When the final day arrives, you haven't slept for not a minute. You couldn't imagine not being there for him when he finally arrives — so when you hear the familiar heavy steps and keys rustling from behind your apartment door, your heart completely stops for a second. You've never been up this fast, making your way to your small entryway in a heartbeat - probably hitting your foot against a few tables of yours while running too, making sure everything that you've planned is intact for the moment. But that plan gets thrown off immediately by pure impulse and instinct.

He reached out for your body and you jumped in, like a natural body reaction; your bodies fitting together like a puzzle meant to be, the familiar musky scent of him that you swear you hate, (but, if we're being honest, you truly missed and love) all of it taking over your senses. He held you so tight to himself as if you'd disappear if he let go – like a man starved of human contact.

During all this time of knowing Simon, you've already figured that his actions speak more than words – even with you, he responds in short answers. He's more of a listener, anyways. So that hold told more than any of your words could ever explain, not even those you scripted and waited to tell him. Without words, you both exchanged everything you needed to say. "...Simon." you finally managed to murmur against his vest, yet all you could make out was his name; hands gripping onto whatever piece of cloth you could find on him.

"In the flesh." hearing his voice again is like a nostalgic hit in the stomach. Like listening to an old song you used to cry to before. "Missed me?" His exhausted smug face was wiped off by your lips crashing against each other; It was his voice that took you out of the shocked state and made you pull his Balaclava off completely – kissing him like it was truly the last time you could. Simon laid his one hand into your hair and pulled you closer to him, the other holding at your waist. Both your eyes were screwed shut, just enjoying the euphoric relief of tension

You didn't even know how long you two have been stuck like this, but you could stay like that forever. That is if you weren't mortals, who need air to breathe.

"How many weeks has it been..fuckin’ hell, months even. –"

"67 days."

"...You counted it?"

You decide burying your head deeper into his chest was enough of an answer. You did count it – and his heartstrings were pulled as guilt flows through them. He didn't deserve to come back to this. Ghost didn't deserve to be loved like this, he believes.

Leave wasn't always comforting like this for Simon.

Well, comforting, sure. Depends on who views it. He found comfort — but in the bottom of a bottle instead of your embrace. His apartment was empty; and not just empty in the physical sense. It was empty of life, just dim light coming from the halfway opened windows, unopened mail and boxes scattered around, only indicators that there even was someone living here.

But now he, out of all people, had the priceless privilege of coming back to you. To a warm home with someone who's waiting for him, who's waiting for Ghost to leave and Simon to come back.

"Every single day that you were gone." You never really noticed how small your apartment feels when there's no one but you - how comforting it is to finally feel his presence back after weeks and months of an empty house - you couldn't even call it a home until then.

Because your home was standing tall in your doorframe, hunched just the slightest bit, dressed in gear and was reaching for your body.

"Don't just stay at the door like some jehovah's witness, Please." You give an awkward snort and make your way to close the door behind him. "...How was it?"

"Harsh."

You knew better than to ask about details of his job. You knew where he was, what he was doing, and (about) when he comes back. It was enough for him, because if there's one thing he never wants to happen it's to bring you into the operations. You didn't need to know more.

You were curious, sure, and he would tell you about the Taskforce once or twice - both of you laughing at some dumb thing that happened to a rookie or that one time he absolutely obliterated Soap in training — for the record, he is very proud of that. (Please tell him you are too.) He'd tell you about the impressive shots he did, and some ego-boosting updates on his strength that you're sick of hearing, but that's about it. You were okay with that to some extent, too.

While helping out Simon get out of his uniform and lay off his gear aside, you had to glance back at it twice before realizing what you saw on the side of his stomach.

"Jesus fucking-... You told me you'd be more careful this time!" You hiss out at the sight of his wounds painted with dark, dried blood, practically left unattended except for the basic stitches and what looks like some worn-out bandages. "Not quite easy when you've got targets in yer back love." simply huffing at his remark, you shake your head with annoyance at his lack of care.

Without a word or further complaint, you drag him into your bedroom and sat down with him on the shared queen-sized bed.

Taking a closer look on what you were being left with, you began by cleaning off his scarred skin;

" Fuckin' hell—"

"...Might sting?" A quiet chuckle, that you just couldn't hold in, escapes your lips as well as a soft smile that creeps upon them.

"But whose fault is that now.." The look in those deep, brown eyes that you fell in love with a long time ago, now signal you that familiar sign to what this is going to lead into. Your own face scrunches at the thought of it; so, so close to breaking down at the already overwhelming situation. "Can't always come out without a scratch." "That is not a scratch." "I'm jus' saying. You know what I do and what comes with it. Right? Listen."

"Simon." The first time, it's a warning to him - to remind you avoid this conversation like the plague for a reason.

"You'll live a long time without me —"

"Don't." The second, it's a plea. A begging whine brought in a shaky voice and accompanied by eyes swollen with tears, interrupting what other painful daggers of truth he was about to give you - he always did this in the worst moments.

It's so easy to pretend that it couldn't happen.

"I need to know you'll be fine on your own without me." And there it was. His voice was grating and raised, — if you didn't know him you'd think he was mad. But he isn't. He's frustrated and this is the only way he can deal with it - He's frustrated because It's killing him to talk about it too, tearing at his heartstrings, knowing that he might not come back to you after one goodbye. That after one unlucky mission, one unlucky shot, one unlucky ‘scratch’... he won't come back to your embrace where war and blood find no home. His dark eyes that indicate death and a cold-hearted killer on the battlefield are now yearning for support and understatement in yours. You could've sworn you even saw them beginning to look glossy. His voice now begins to hitch and breaks itself - the grip he had on you now trembling and weakening, eyebrows furrowing; a vulnerable sight that Simon swore to never let anyone see again. Yet here he is, kneeling in front of his love on their shared bed, begging for a single promise. "I wanted that to be the first thing we do when i come back, in case.." He drifts off as he gives you a stern look into your eyes, his hands gripping your arms in a tight hold. "In case there won't be another chance."

"I can't make it if you don't promise me to be okay." "I don't want to be okay without you."

He doesn't know what to say; he wishes he never had to even hear that. But this is what comes with loving Simon.

"And you won't have to. But if something happens —" A quiet, cried-out whisper interrupts him once again. "Don't say that." In return, he can't bring himself to respond with anything else other than an exaggerated exhale and a head tilted to look down. "...If something happens, you promise to live out your life, alright? None of that 'mournin’ for me' crap, yeah?" Simon wasn't one to comfort others, even though he tried his best for you. But god, he does know how to make you cry.

"Tell me you'll stay strong for me." "I don't take orders" a weak smile creeps onto your face as you jokingly scoff, but still linked with that sad expression.

"..."

When silence falls between the both of you and no sign of that hazy and mean playfulness in the dark orbs of his that usually lingers, letting you know he means it when he tells you to confirm. Who are you to disobey the L.T.’s orders?

"I'll try." After a few moments run by, you manage to say something in return with a shaky voice – basically forcing yourself to accept that pill that's so hard to swallow.

"I'll try to Simon. But I don't know how long I can try for." Averting your gaze from his, you finish touching up his stitches and lay off the med kit into some random bedside table drawer.

"I want to know that you're always somewhere out there, that that smile of yours' still goes around." he took your jaw into his hands and his dreary eyes were taking you in, your head immediately melting into the familiar hold of his as the calloused thumbs begin to wipe your tears off your pretty face.

"Come on lass, traveled back to you n' all that, and ya won't even give me a smile? Get me a refund." Losing to fight back a smile, you hit your one hand against his chest lightly and hide your smiling face into the crook of his neck - a heavy weight lifted off your shoulders, and where there were sobs, there are now those warm giggles of yours that Simon dreams of when he's gone.

"I'm tired."

"What's stopping ya?"

"Your need to shower."

"Oi, piss off." He grunts a chuckle under his breath as he throws you over his shoulder and heads to the bathroom; placing a kiss onto the hips that he was carrying. "Barely home for an hour and ya already have an attitude. Gonna have to get rid of that."

"Bet you do."

The water droplets grazing both your nude bodies as he leans his head atop of yours, your hands working their way to his face and gently rubbing it's paint off. — An vulnerably intimate and loving scenario between you two. You have to admit, it took an ungodly amount of time to build that amount of trust between you. But you'd wait for him over, and over, and over again if it meant to be together like this. When you two finally get out, he insists of carrying you into your bed.

His embrace feels so comforting, his bicep curled around you, pulling you into his chest – his heartbeat and the dimmed lights lulling you to sleep. It's a perfect way to warm ones heart after one half of it was gone for so long.

"I've missed this Simon."

"It's what I fight for, love." It's so easy to pretend that it can be always like this.

tags: @lovsavangeline2

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list as well ^.^ pls like reblog or comment!! i love seeing ur interactions, ++ my requests are open for anything a/n : also should i keep the small font or write in a normal one??

[bylerbigbang]

On the Same Frequency

Fic by @oldfashionedmorphine | Art by @kaiminluu

Mature | 57k words

Ever since his best friend Will Byers was murdered back in 1985, Mike Wheeler wanted nothing more than to leave his hometown of Hawkins, Indiana and never look back—only each and every year he’s forced to make an exception when it comes to the holidays. And when Mike visits for Christmas in 1995, his mom asks him to help clear out some junk in his room and down in the basement before he returns home to Indianapolis. But when he comes across an old trunk containing his Supercom walkie-talkie and ham radio, he discovers something strange that has the potential to change everything.

(or an AU inspired by the movie “Frequency” from 2000)

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Alternate Universe, Not Canon Compliant, Supernatural Elements, Time Shenanigans, Butterfly Effect, Serial Killers, Thriller, Blood and Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Grief/Mourning, Substance Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending

Read on Ao3 | View Art | Playlist on Spotify

Read an excerpt below:

December 22, 1985

Will sets his backpack by his feet and starts layering on his winter garb—coat, scarf…

“So what’re you gonna do while I’m gone?—besides Christmas stuff, of course,” Mike asks, inching the slightest bit closer and making Will’s stomach flutter.

They’ve been doing this little dance of theirs a lot lately. It started back in the summer with their hands brushing against each other in dark movie theaters, and then there were all the times he would look up to find Mike staring (or vice versa), and of course all the times he’s caught Mike’s eyes darting down to his lips, because that’s happened so often he’s lost count. But they never say anything about it. It’s quite confusing really, like they were playing a strange game without a rule book. And sometimes Will isn’t entirely sure if it’s all just in his own head or if Mike was aware of it too. But one thing was certain, absolutely every time he’s alone like this with Mike, he wants to burst into a million pieces because he can’t get his heart to stop racing, or quell the butterflies living in his stomach, or simply ignore that crazy impulse he gets to lean in and kiss him.

Focus.

Will places his green beanie over his head. “Uh… remember I told you yesterday that I finally got the last piece I needed for my Cerebro?”

“Mhm…” Mike nods, eyes dropping down for only a second.

Will swallows hard—his face had gotten so hot from just standing in the doorway like this. “So, um… if the weather’s finally good tomorrow then Dustin’s gonna help me install the antenna tower… just uh… me and him since… y’know… you’re gonna be out of town and uh… Lucas—Lucas already has plans with his family and whatnot...” If he had more to say, it was completely lost on him on account of Mike and the intensity of his eyes.

“That’s awesome… ‘cause now I’ll finally be able to radio and talk to you whenever I want—no more fighting Nancy for the phone.”

“Yeah…” then Will slips a pair of brown gloves onto his hands, and as he stares down at them trying to think of what else to say, only one thing pops into his head—how he went along with Lucas’s lie about the roll and how much it was actually bothering him. It bothered him because Mike didn’t deserve that—he didn’t deserve to be lied to. And he’d probably be mad if he found out. He always works so hard on his campaigns and lying about the roll just made Will feel like he was a cheater and a bad friend—especially when Mike was standing right in front of him, all smiles and excited at the opportunity to talk to him endlessly on a ham radio—so of course the very next thing to come out of his mouth ends up being; “It was a seven, by the way…”

Read more on Ao3 >

[stitchthesewords]

👀

(give me ur best shot with this belle >:D)

HEHEHEHEHEHEHHE You geeeeet a Clethubs scene!

Taglist and story below the cut

Bdubs took a deep breath. The cool chainmail of his half veil was like holding a glacier to the dark hickey on his neck, partially concealed by his coat. His robe. His moss. He was, alarmingly, unable to tell if it was a fashion piece or a part of him anymore. The hallways echoed under his feet. The servants of the Crastle were all asleep, which was good for him. It wasn’t like his relationship with the king was some big secret – he wasn’t Martyn, but he didn’t want to deal with the looks he got when there was a clear and visible marking of it.

The door to his bedroom greeted him with a creak on its hinges and he sighed, gazing at them. It felt like the whole thing was starting to come apart already. As he brought his gaze back to the foreground, he was not surprised to find Etho lounging in the armchair by his fireplace. Bdubs had chosen that armchair specifically for him. The door creaked again on its way to shut behind him and he made his way over, throwing himself over top of where Etho was writing. Or drawing. Bdubs liked to call it doodling and Etho liked to call it schematics.

“The king done with you for the day?” Etho asked, leaning down to kiss Bdubs through his mask. Bdubs pouted, but he noticed Etho’s eyes were on a different part of the room. When he followed, he noticed Cleo laid out on his bed, waiting for him to turn his attention to them.

“Took you long enough to figure out I was here,” they said. Bdubs squawked and fumbled his way from Etho’s lap, straightening out his clothes as he came to a stop. No matter how long the three of them had been at this game, Bdubs would never get used to both their attentions being on him.

Bdubs was very certain of his relationships – Cleo, Etho, Ren, Impulse – very certain indeed. And he knew whatever Ren and Cleo had going on was not romantic in the slightest. It was more like watching a cat play with a meal before letting it go again. Impulse was, for obvious reasons, not connected with the people in the Crastle, and some part of Bdubs stomach always twisted a little when he thought of how Ren might react to that. Whatever Etho and Cleo had going on, however, was a mystery to him. He could never tell if they were rivals, opposite suitors, or maybe even just…bashful about one another. He never saw them so much as hold hands, but both of them assured him they were ‘more than just friends’. Whatever that meant to them, Bdubs had no clue.

“Warn a guy if you’re going to both camp out in his bedroom!” he shouted, stomping where he stood. The dual laughter made his cheeks heat up and his face crinkle a bit.

“’Your most private of areas’ as I think Ren’s taken to calling it?” Cleo said with a laugh.     They sat up on the bed and crossed their legs. “I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway. Got statues to build, raw meat to eat for dinner.”

Bdubs still sputtered regardless and crossed his arms, turning away from both of them. Cleo snorted and that was a lovely noise, frankly.

“Cleo and I were just talking about some defensive plans for the Crastle, actually,” Etho said, picking up his pen from his notebook and stashing both away.

“Since when do you care about the Crastle?” Bdubs asked.

“Since always,” came Etho’s smooth reply, though there was a look in his eyes. Impulse. Cleo didn’t know about Impulse either.

The two of them were quiet for long enough that Cleo scoffed to get their attention. “If the two of you are done making heart eyes and drooling over each other,” they said, finally rising from the bed. In a few steps, they made their way to Bdubs, Standing over him well enough to use him as an arm rest. They didn’t, this time, but they did lean down and, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, kiss his cheek. “I’ll be going now. Good night Bdubs, Etho,” they said, before limbering out of the room.

@atherix @braxiatel @greatbridge @ellalily @lesbianwilby @em-mermaid @loombarrow

[terrazaurio]

Some sketchies and heartfelt letters for friends that Lira knows are lost already, but still need to atone.✨😔

I know that little or nothing can fix this letter, but I can't stop thinking about how unfair it is that I have known such an intimate part of you and that you have nothing to hold over my head.

I want it to be clear that I do not need you to forgive me, I understand that what I did doubled a wound that has not healed for a long time, and that I will never be able to come close to closing it, not even the slightest bit.

But if you have some time, here I leave you a piece of me;

When I was little, I often felt alone. I've never been good at maintaining a friendship. But there was one person who managed to stand out above all the others, and who taught me what it was to love. Her name is Cecania, and she lived in the village, not far from my house.

I had always thought she was a very pretty girl, but I would never have approached her on my own. She intimidated me. Luckily, she was the one who did it.

She came up to me one afternoon and said; “I can jump higher than you.” And well, knowing me, you'll know that I can't say no to a challenge like that, so we spent the entire afternoon jumping, until we got sunstroke and we almost didn't tell it... From then on there was no one to separate us.

Somehow we grew up together, we fell in love, and she taught me how nice it can be to express what you feel without fear (even if it meant ending up in the police station more than once).

Cecania was not happy there, and neither was I. We always talked about escaping, traveling the world and getting married in every country we visited. To never look back. Additionally, she had always had anger issues, but over the years they became stronger.

One day, as she had done many times before, she told me that it was time, that she would pick me up that same night, that we would burn her house until there was nothing but ashes, and that we would run away together. I, obviously, said yes.

I guess I'll never really know why, but Cecania didn't show up. I assumed that she had collapsed again, like other times, but I still went out to meet her, it was late at night and I could hear alarms in the distance, this scared me.

When I got there, I saw nothing but fire consuming her house. Firefighters said there were no human remains among the pebbles and ash. I have never seen her again.

Her parents left town shortly after.

Yesterday I was planning to talk to you about her in person, but we already know how that ended.

I know there is no point of comparison between the two stories, or between what I have caused and what I can offer you, but this is all I have. I have not lived long, nor very intensely; This is the most important moment of my life. Cecania and I used to smoke together, and in the ashtray in my room there were two butts stained with her favorite lipstick. I'm a little embarrassed, but I kept them like a treasure. It was the only thing that didn't burn completely that night.

I'm leaving them to you because I don't know how else to even begin to apologize for how careless I've been. Do whatever you want with them, I won't be mad, I promise.

(If you're reading this after a while, I guess it's already late, and either I'm dead or I was able to deliver some information at the next meeting with Felix. I hope it's the second one, but just in case.

I'm going to meet Penny, the tattoo artist with the white and green hair. I know it's risky, but I really want to prove that I can do something! Nothing I do will ever be your fault, please believe me. I've always been this impulsive and idiotic. I am grateful to have been your friend, Rodrigo.)

Lira.

[cryingoverspilledmilks-blog]

Kismet

Fandom: The Glass Scientists

Current rating: T

Chapter: 1

Title: Fugue

A/N: This fic is sort of a canon-divergent, wish-fulfillment drabble piece that started as a lot of different fics i wrote that i discovered had scenes that would fit better together as a single fic, and so i took snippets from those and stuck them together and whittled the whole mess down into something more manageable. Lots of late night editing sessions for something I'm doing for free, but I was motivated to finish this by someone being so very enthusiastic in the tags on the WIP excerpts I posted, which was honestly such a delight to wake up to. Thank you so much btw @greedycanine I really appreciate that boost and I hope I meet your expectations in the full chapters :)

The comic has updated several times since I began writing this, and I did add some non-canon elements (for instance, that Lanyon Knows, which is a common enough trope in this fandom and one that I enjoy immensely.)

The flaws in this one might not be as glaring as my over-anxious mind anticipates, but if you notice them, I probably have too. It is likely best read as a self-contained hypothetical with hints of canon plot woven in. It's a bit messy, but I think it may be enjoyable nonetheless.

Here is the first part of this great beast. It consists mostly of a conversation, beginning with some emblematic Jekyll and Hyde mirror-bickering. I thought it would be interesting to explore one of those moments where Hyde has something insightful to say, even if it's something of a means to an end for him.

The font changes are something of a fanfic guilty pleasure for me, but they're also a tool I love to use to show who's speaking and how, without necessarily using a dialogue tag every other line, especially when we have two characters who have the ability to communicate both in ways only they can hear and in ways others can.

Hope all of that works for y'all. Happy reading :)

Chapter 1: Fugue

“Are you ready to let me back out yet? Believe it or not, hanging over your shoulder all day does get old.”

"Not now."

“Why not?”

"I don’t want you getting involved in this. We've just made it through into the thickest of this whole ordeal. There’s still too much at stake."

“Ugh. That’s how you see every situation you can’t directly micromanage. It’s like the whole of your world is always resting oh-so-precariously on the head of a pin, ready to be upset by the slightest deviation from your expectations. Lighten up just this once, won't you?"

Henry sighed heavily at that and slid his finished page to the far side of the desk, thinking better of his initial impulse to reply. Pulling a fresh sheet of paper into view and dipping his pen into the inkwell again, he continued to write, attempting to ignore the familiar but currently disembodied speaker.

“Don’t act like you can’t hear me all of a sudden," the voice grumbled impatiently.  "You know, I’ve noticed something lately, Henry. You always insist on framing our situation as though you’re the most responsible party between the two of us, but you never seem to have any really substantial backup plans on hand, in case those delicate matters you like fussing over so much go awry. You never give yourself a real margin of error, despite the fact you're always angsting over what could go wrong.”

Ink pooled slightly on the page under Henry’s pen as he paused, scoffing at the insinuation that he’d been anything but diligent. “And you do?” he prodded back sarcastically, speaking aloud this time, his voice firm but quiet. He was rather aware of precisely how audible he was behind his office door. It was more risky to communicate this way, but he seemed to have an easier time filtering himself when he wasn’t trying to speak internally, and that was important when he was dealing with his incorporeal counterpart.

The lengthy mirror standing off to one side drew his eye when he heard the reply.

“Oh, I always figure something out, one way or another. Surely you know that better than anyone.” 

Henry rolled his eyes at the hazy silhouette that suddenly could be glimpsed in the mirror’s reflection of the opposite wall. “Abandoning every situation that doesn’t go your way and playing hopscotch all over the city’s rooftops is not a backup plan,” he muttered bitterly, composing the end of a follow-up letter for a prospective sponsor before setting the page aside to let the ink dry.

“It can be, if you’re clever enough," the shadow replied. "Also, you're one to talk about giving up easy. Just a few weeks ago I watched you nearly forfeit your whole operation just because Lanyon told you he didn't think things looked sound after you passed out mid-speech. Face it, you’re all or nothing when it comes to solving problems. What is that about?”

Another exasperated sigh as Henry spared another glance at the shadow in the mirror. "Can we not do this right now? You only ask these questions because you already know what gets under my skin. You don't really care about the answers, do you?"

When the shadow spoke next, it was with a mockery of a hurt tone, the dark shape leaning back slightly. A silhouetted hand rested against an approximation of the chest, in a gesture best described as theatrically wounded.

"Why, you insult me, dear doctor. I'm only curious, for both of our sakes, being as close as we are," came the snidely-sweet reply.

Henry narrowed his eyes. “Do you honestly expect I could believe you truly care about what happens to me? After all you've put me through? You take such joy in my misfortune. Really, you can drop the saccharine nonsense, Hyde."

Letting the name slip from his mouth was a mistake, but wouldn’t be costly this time since they were alone- and he only uttered it the one time, Henry reasoned quickly. It was mostly to try to quell the dread in his stomach at the prospect of someone in the hall happening by as he said it out loud, in an otherwise perceptibly empty room.

Hyde vanished from the glass, only to reappear, more thoroughly illuminated, in the empty air near the desk, looking slightly more like a person than an apparition now, as well as irritated.

“I’m trying to tell you that you might actually benefit from trying things my way. Be a little more spontaneous. Roll over the bumps in the road, instead of just counting on things going the right way the first time, every time. It was funny to watch you flounder at first, I must admit, but honestly it's just getting old. I wonder what would happen if you switched things up and proved me right," he paused briefly, noting Henry's contemplative expression.

"And another thing!" Hyde exclaimed, pointing at the ceiling for emphasis. "You told me you'd let me out after the exhibition, then not at all, and now here you are again running yourself uselessly into the ground. The bourgeois types you find yourself groveling to yet again are notoriously hard to satisfy. Why should you have to rush if they already know what you and the others are capable of?"

Stretching a little as Hyde went on, Henry stopped a moment and glanced out the window with a pensive look in his eye.

“That's one of the few times you’ve been right about something, amongst all those snide remarks.”

“Hey!” Hyde sounded affronted at first, then did an almost comical double-take. "Wait, you agree with me?"

“I can certainly see what you mean, even if I can't abide by that advice in the same way you might,” Henry began. “We need everyone's projects to come together smoothly if we're to maintain what good standing we've managed to acquire with our sponsors. They have high hopes and even higher expectations after the splash everyone made at the exhibition. We would need to plan for every eventuality within reach of what we set out to do, but… I do miss things while trying to account for the unexpected, don’t I? Always, something unforeseen gets in my way.” Henry turned in his seat and reached into the cabinet above, pulling out a leather-bound notebook tucked behind a row of vials. Flipping to the first clean page, he dipped his pen into the inkwell once more. "Somehow the fact you managed to worm your way back to the front of our mind to pester me once again is not one such surprise.."

Hyde furrowed his brow in displeasure, rolling his eyes at Henry's little jab. “Of course it isn't. Did you really think I could be held down so easily? You made it harder for me to take over the body on my own, but I'm still here." he paused for a moment. "How long is this going to take?" 

“Not quite as long as you seem to be concerned about. I just have to jot down some…alternatives so I remember them while the subject is fresh,” Henry spoke mildly, but his expression was disgruntled and contemplative.

Hyde rolled his eyes, and did not look at Henry's page, whose looping, slanted script looked far too dull for him to devote attention to at this hour, restless and bitter as he was.

Henry went on, "I'm still upset about that stunt you pulled on the stage, but I'm certain you figured that out already. It was cruel even by your usual standards."

“Cruelty is the very thing I'm made for, but now that you mention it, I actually did you a favor by dragging you down into the dark and the quiet," Hyde spat."You're just addicted to working until you pass out. It's a real fuckin' problem."

As he grew more impatient, the East-London drawl that Hyde had picked up since his creation was seeping further into his inflections. Beneath that, there was a slight but distinct lilt which gestured toward shared memories of Glasgow, making an uncommon cocktail of tones that were unmistakably signature to him. Like so many things about Hyde, Henry noticed, it produced a quality both familiar and foreign. It was, fittingly enough, a faintly haunting thing to witness, a reminder of just how right Hyde always was about the extent of their connection.

Henry squinted his eyes shut as if to abandon that train of thought, trying to remain bearably numb to the reality of being forever stuck arguing with a living distillate of the most confusing parts of himself. “If I'm doomed to be addicted to anything at all, as you say I am, I'd much rather it be something useful,” Henry replied coldly after a moment, the page under his pen nearly full.

Hyde paused, nose wrinkled in defensive chagrin. "I don't concern myself with counting the ways I can be used by others. At least my addictions don't rely on people telling me what to do," he muttered. "Are you done yet?"

Henry shook his head in stiff silence, much to Hyde’s dismay. He gave a frustrated groan. “You can pick this up tomorrow! It’s getting close to evening by now, and you always take so much longer with these things than you say you will."

Once the page was dry and flipped over, there was no reply but the continued, now noticeably forceful scratching of Henry’s pen. His brow was creased with irritation, a deepening frown on his face. 

Hyde growled in frustration. “Jekyll!”

Henry grit his teeth, snapping a look over at Hyde that was a mixture of anger and anxiety. "Must you be so childish?! Don't think I don't know what you're doing by now, I am not as much of a fool as you seem to think. Why should I go out of my way to let you out again, when you have proven time and time again that you don't know how to keep your excursions from ruining everything I strive for?"

He could not stop the impatient edge from entering his voice, as much as he'd wanted to avoid raising it tonight. As he spoke, Hyde's features twisted into a mask of indignation and rage.

"You don't know the first thing about ruin! Try being in my position for a change- less than nothing, a ghost of a ghost! And for what? You have no idea how lucky you really are. My entire existence is eaten up by watching another man live a life I could do so much more with if I was given the chance!"

Jekyll shut the notebook with a forceful swipe of his hand down against the desk, eyes downcast. "I would love to see you try living my life for once," he replied flatly, "If perhaps you weren't so preoccupied with immediate gratification, maybe I'd even trust you with making an attempt."

"Perhaps if we had any more of that potion of ours made, I would be able to seriously debate if I wanted to take you up on that. But I am mostly stranded now, and it isn't my fault I wound up that way. You're the one who made that call." Hyde shot back, moving phantom-like toward the doorway that led to the other portion of the office, where many of their experiments had taken place. 

Jekyll tucked the notebook into a drawer under his desk, slamming it closed in irritation. "Not your fault? I had to destroy it. You would have found some way to get your hands on it when I was needed most, because that is what you always do! You didn't give me another choice!"

Hyde's image distorted slightly for a moment, like smeared paint on canvas, before resolving itself, as if reacting physically to emotion. "There is always another choice! This is what I'm talking about. All or nothing. We are two parts of a whole, you know that. Or, at least you ought to by now."

His voice, as well, seemed faintly doubled, the translation of a will to be heard. "You need me around, you know you do, even if you can't admit it. How many times have you watched me indulge in what you couldn't? How many times have you deliberately sent me into the world to voice the thoughts you must otherwise claim to revile? How much benefit have you reaped from our cooperation? You can't keep me locked away forever. You will always need the outlet I provide."

Jekyll's head began to ache a bit the longer he considered Hyde's point. It was true, he knew, that he found a secret kind of fulfillment in watching things he could never partake in play out vicariously from behind Hyde's eyes. This was a fault, really, or at least he thought so. However, a fault that he had not managed to shake off, for the better part of fifteen years. It would take a lot of willpower to break a habit like that after so long. That was partly why he had destroyed the potion to begin with. He knew Hyde was probably right, that he was not really strong enough to resist the temptation of such freedom.

Technically, the potion could be recreated if it was necessary, though it was always an arduous process. They had needed to do that many times over a decade and a half. But Jekyll had cut himself off from that last ready-made batch as a last desperate bid for control, and had thought never to make it again.

Thinking about how much work still needed to be done before the lodgers' new project deadlines was a miserable uphill battle. Even now, deep down, he wanted to be somewhere else tonight, doing anything besides wearing himself out, cooped up in the office for the umpteenth time. Acknowledging that, even privately, felt like a betrayal of a higher caliber than even Hyde's, but the thought persisted even still.

He sighed. "Well...be that as it may, you are still an enormous liability. And, besides which- what do you even want me to do? What remained of that batch of the potion is gone now."

Hyde paused, and his expression shifted, from anger to mild disbelief, and finally into a smug, cheshire smile. "Well, I have been thinking about that, and I realized- it's not all gone," he moved toward the tall, solid wooden cabinet against the far wall of the office. It was the one Jekyll kept things that were risky to have visible behind glass (copies of the will written in his name, for instance.) It was also, Jekyll realized with dawning horror, where Hyde kept his physical set of clothing tucked away when Jekyll was in control. 

Among them was a tattered overcoat, with two stolen vials of HJ-7 tucked into the inside pocket.

Enough for exactly one last night on the town before the potion would have to be remade entirely. A final obstacle in the way of true control. A pacifying bargaining chip to buy himself more time before the pair of them would argue like this again.

Hyde seemed to recognize the way Jekyll's eyes shifted in thinly-concealed conflict, bordering on panic, and if it was possible, his grin widened.

"You remember the night I went to Blackfog, don't you, Jekyll?"

[raggaraddy]

Discipline- Hyung Line

How and why would Yandere Bangtan punish you?

Trigger warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, descriptions of unhealthy relationships.

Alpha!Namjoon

You would find it hard to get Namjoon to react impulsively or rashly. There might be the odd look or feeling you get from him when you say or do something that he disapproves of, but he will never raise his voice or strike you. He is much too controlled for that.

However, that does not mean that your actions would not have repercussions. From the first day when he met you, he made sure to install a clear series of causes and effects. They came so gradually and his reasoning was so irrefutable that while the original you would have been disgusted at the idea of being treated like this, the you that Namjoon has crafted finds his rules and actions reasonable and necessary. They are set for your own well-being.

If you didn't eat well or drank too much, of course, Namjoon was going to scold you. He's just showing how much he cares.

You also need to be corrected when you're rude or disrespectful. Namjoon is an Alpha after all and he deserves your respect. A smart mouth, bad language, or disrespectful behaviour will earn you a time out to reflect on your choices.

And if you're bold enough to leave the house without him or without informing him, then he's made sure you know what consequences to expect. Sure, being bent over his lap like a petulant child is embarrassing, but Namjoon has shown you what kind of creatures exist in the world. It's your Mates' duty to remind you to be more mindful. Even If that means he covers you in bruises from time to time.

For every undesirable action, there exists a correction. All rules and guides are clear so you have no room to argue. If you happen to stumble into a grey area Namjoon will kindly explain your wrongdoing and inform you of the result should you re-offend. He always takes the time to make sure you fully see his reasoning as he would never want you to think he is unjust.

Although, there is one exception to this. Nobody touches you. No one makes any sort of advances towards you and you certainly do not reciprocate or tolerate those actions. That is absolute.

Like I said, he would never hit you out of rage. Another person however would not be so lucky. If you ever wanted to see the full extent of an Alpha's power, just blush or smile when that cute delivery boy asks for your number. Sure, he might lock you in a room and throw away the key, but seeing an Alpha shift in an open plan office is a once in a lifetime event.

King!Seokjin

This is a tricky one to answer because Seokjin isn't looking for a rhyme or reason to hurt you. He just will regardless of any behaviour.

If there are little failures or mistakes he will certainly utilize them for the chance to be extra cruel, however as mentioned, he doesn't need them as justification.

There is still plenty you could do to madden him. He is a King first and foremost and he will not tolerate any kind of disrespect or disobedience. Doing so would absolutely be an easy start to evoking his anger.

Jin is also not impetuous, everything he does, he does with purpose. So when he does hurt you in response to something you have done he can be truly poetic in the methods he chooses.

You dropped and smashed a cup? He'll use the pieces to cut you.

Did you interrupt him? He'll fill that mouth with one thing or another. Don't worry, he doesn't need you to speak anyway.

You did something as foolish as to refuse or fight him during one of your sessions? That's fine. The nearest servant will take your place. Let's see if you can endure their screams and cries, while he continually reminds them and you that their pain is your fault.

Assassin!Yoongi

How would he punish you? He has basically one method. Very simply, he would lock you away. He isn't looking to deal with any bullshit. So if you want to act up, fine. He'll just throw you in your room until he is ready to deal with you again. If you especially irritate him and he wants to make a point or really dissuade your behaviour from happening again he'll chain you in the basement. A two-meter chain, a toilet and a tap for water. With that and soundproof walls, he knows he'll have at least 2 weeks of quiet before you start to properly starve to death and he has to take you out.

Why would he punish you? That is less simple. His moods change too often for there to be any one answer.

You might have been too energetic, or maybe you weren't matching his excitement and it disappointed him. It could be that you were frustrating him by not participating and conversing when he wanted. Or maybe he was just feeling annoyed because he was hungry and tired.

Honestly, Yoongi doesn't know in the slightest what he wants, and while he doesn't truly expect you to be able to, he demands you anticipate his ever-shifting whims. He took you to be useful to him. So he sees it as your job to figure out what he wants, not his job to teach you.

Like when he told you he wanted you to be more proactive and initiate sex. That didn't mean that you could just choose any moment to come to him and offer to make the both of you feel good. No, it was important to wait until the exact moment Yoongi was also in the same temperament. And to make sure you approached him in the way he wanted. And to say the things he liked.

The only thing you can ever be sure of with Yoongi is that because you spend all your time trapped with only him, you will be locked away hating him while obsessing over ways to make him happy. Wishing you could be near him just to have some form of contact with another person.

On the rare occasions when you do see his true anger, it's good to keep in mind that he is a professional killer. He isn't phased with shooting you and leaving you to see if you survive.

Vampire!Hosoek

Like Jin, Hoseok is someone who revels in the pain and suffering of others. Hoseok however is less concerned with formality, obedience, or rules. Fight. Cry. Beg. Scream at him. Tell him how much you hate him, how much you wish he would die. He doesn't care. In fact, he enjoys it. It spurs him on.

There is nearly nothing you could do to truly anger him. Everything is a game for him, everything's fun. And you're his favourite toy. So when you fuck up, it's just another chance for him to play with you.

The only thing he is serious about, the only thing he is possessive of, is your blood. He has made it clear many, many times that that is his. His to drink and his to spill. Get so much as a papercut by yourself, or accidentally bite your tongue and he'll be utterly offended that you robbed him of something that should have been his. Not just the loss of blood either, but that he wasn't able to enjoy the sounds and faces you made as you injured yourself. And how dare you rob him of a moment that should have been his.

If any other person were to hurt you, purposefully or accidentally, or god forbid if any other Vampire tried to drink your blood.... well you would think Hoseok was downright gentle with you when you saw the things he did to them.

[imagineddworld]

FBI training (Part 1)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: The reader is the child of the two most skilled FBI agents of the States. At the FBI training she is paired up with a very determent young man who always finds a way to trouble her. 

Author’s note: I tried to make it as genderneutral as possible. But at some point there is a small implication that the reader could be female and their roommate could be male. But further than that, there is no specifications of gender. 

This is going to be a multiple part fic. The first part already took me way too long to write. So I apologize in advance if the next parts will take long to write too. I will try to finish them as quickly as I can.

Words: 3k (3084) 

On the most important day of your life, running late was not one of the things you had planned for. But seen how impulsive your roommate could be, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to mess up your schedule. They had stolen all your alarm clocks at night for some stupid experiment. Yes, you owned multiple. Normally you used your phone as an alarm. But after a couple mishaps caused by your roommate, you couldn’t put all your trust entirely on electronic devises. So you had bought an old-fashioned alarm clock that still ran on batteries, just in case something were to happen to your phone. But even that clock had been ruined many times. So from that moment on you always had some spare clocks hidden in your room, just in case. 

That they had found all your spare clocks wasn’t too surprising, seen that they weren’t hidden very well. What did shock you was that they hadn’t woken you up by their wild scavenger hunt. You were a light sleeper, even the smallest of noises could shake you out of your deep rest. That’s why you wore earbuds to bed, including that particular night. They often didn’t muffle the sounds enough, surely not during an experiment. Your roommate tend to forget about their surroundings as they start one, getting lost in their passion. You had awoken countless of times to the sound of falling objects, happy laughter, mumbles of rambling thoughts, excited jumping, soft sobbing and frequently a loud whine or groan. By now it was a normal occurrence. But of course, on that night the earbuds had done their job, cancelling out all the noise from the nightly events. 

The evening before, everything had gone smoothly. Too smoothly. You were supposed to suspect something, but your intuition had failed you due to the overwhelming amounts of emotions that threw you out of balance. There always had to be a bump in the road. Nothing ever went entirely good.  You had excitedly packed your backpack, leaving out a book to read before you went to bed. Next you picked out your outfit for the morning, neatly placing it on top of your wooden desk. Making that decision the day before took away a part of the unwanted stress to your already overflowing anxiety-filled body. Not that picking an outfit for the FBI Academy would be hard. They had a strict dress code. Everyone had to wear a white button up, tie being an optional choice. What you wore as bottoms also was a free choice, but they had to be formal and needed to show off professionalism.

Before you had changed into a big T-shirt and some sleeping shorts, you checked over your backpack and outfit; making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything. After double checking 3 times, you continued your night ‘routine’. (Your days never looked the same, so you couldn’t really call it a routine.) You washed your face and brushed your teeth, bidding your roommate goodnight as you passed by their room. Once in your room again, you placed your phone on the nightstand, making sure it’s charging for the night. Next you grabbed your earbuds, securing them in your ears before climbing into bed. While you sank into the pile of soft pillows, a mixture of emotions overwhelmed you. Excitement and anxiety had boiled up in your body throughout the whole week. But only now did they leave a tight, crushing feeling in your chest. None the less, sleep soon overtook your senses, greeting you with a peaceful night full of dreams.

As soon as your eyes closed, your luck decided to no longer be on your side. A default in your roommate’s experiment had caused a huge black-out in your building. The electricity had been out all night, resulting in your phone being dead as you awoke the next morning. Usually you could have trusted on your spare alarms, but those were also destroyed in the process of the experiment. That left you with no alarms to wake up to , therefore ending up being late.

What actually had woken you up was the harsh light shining through your thin drapes. It immediately triggered a huge wave of panic to drown, stealing all the air from your longes. Your eyes shot to the analogue clock that hung on your wall, cursing loudly as you read the time. You quickly jumped out of bed, stumbling through your room in a hurried state. At a rapid speed you pulled your clothes on, washed your face, brushed your teeth, tamed your wild bed-hair and desperately tried to make yourself look presentable in the little time you had. You ran back to your room to grab your backpack and the book you were supposed to read last night. Next you made your way over to the small kitchen, taking an apple from the fruit bowl. As you stuffed it into your backpack, you placed your book onto the table. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of your roommate sleeping with their head onto the cold surface. They were surrounded by your broken alarm clocks, pieces scattered everywhere. You couldn’t resist the urge to hit them against the head with your book. Not too hard of course, but hard enough to make any impact. They jumped awake, nearly falling off their chair. ‘Next time wake me up’, you said referring to their failed experiment, ‘Surely when you steal all my alarm clocks.’ You continued rushing to the front door, shoving your book in your backpack as well. They mumbled a small apology. ‘Usually you wake up way before your alarm’, their voice was groggy and quiet. While putting on your shoes you shouted your reply: ‘Not when I haven’t slept less than 6 hours in the past 5 days.’ Another apology followed, but you payed no mind to it. You shut the door behind you with a rather loud thud. You deeply breathed in and out before starting your run towards campus. The interaction hadn’t been in a mean manner or a sign of anyone being upset at the other. It was just your panicked, anxiety filled state being in need to rush, while they had their brain still filled with the morning fog. 

The reason why you barely had closed your eyes in the past 5 days, was because you were helping your parents who had stumbled upon a cruel twist in their rather difficult case. You couldn’t stand to just watch them suffer, so you pulled a few all-nighters with them until you solved most of the hard parts. The feeling of being able to solve such a thing, made it all worth it. None the less, it still had left you exhausted and drained. 

---

To your surprise you had made it in time. You had ran your way to campus, underestimating how far the distance actually was. You tried to catch your breath as you quickly checked your watch. You had 8 minutes till your class started. It was a little late for your liking, knowing how important punctuality is to them, but it would do. You lightly jogged through the halls as you looked at the map of the building that was supposed to guide you through the maze like structure. Even if you had been there plenty of times before in your life, it still was a confusing structure that didn’t want to stick in your head. 

Your mind was too occupied with other things, completely forgetting about your surroundings. So, it was only logical for you to run into a person. The impact of bumping into their harsh chest made you stumble back the slightest bit, but you were able to quickly steady yourself like nothing had happened. Before you could look at the damage you had done, a high pitched voice cracked out a long ‘noo’. In front of you stood a tall, raven-haired man with warm brown eyes. He was looking at the huge coffee stain on his white button while holding his empty coffee cup in his other hand. In the mean while you had gotten distracted by his beauty. You noticed small birthmarks littering his pale skin, resembling little constellations being spread out in the night sky. 

The string of curse words leaving his lips pulled you out of your fazed out state. You had accidentally been checking out this exceptionally beautiful man, who hopefully hadn’t noticed anything of it. It would be highly inappropriate and quite uncomfortable. Luckily for you his eyes were still on the huge coffee stain. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry’, you stammered out, immediately moving into action. You swung you backpack to the front, rumbling through your stuff in order to find the spare shirt you had stolen from your roommate. They didn’t mind. You were clumsy by nature and had to lend their clothes on plenty occasions. Neither was it your first time to ever ruin someone’s clothes, so you always tried to be prepared for moments like this. 

The man continued to angrily mumble to himself, clearly stressing out. He failed to notice the shirt you had offered to him, until you spoke up. ‘Here’, you offered him a polite smile as his head shot up at a fast pace. You were met with a confused look being plastered over his face. Assuming what his next statement would be, you answered before he could open his mouth. ‘It’s a men’s medium.’ As his facial expression didn’t change, you huffed out an annoyed sigh. He seemed to have trouble connecting the dots. He just had to accept the shirt, that’s all. You couldn’t lose any more time, surely not by a stupid encounter. ‘Take it or go in with a huge stain, it’s your choice’, you stated with annoyance clearly noticeable in your voice, while trying to continue your kind demeanor. You dropped the shirt into his hands. ‘If I were you I would change quickly’, you said over your shoulder before turning the corner that lead you to your final destination. 

You had made it just in time. The classroom already filled with students. You quickly sat down at one of the tables that still had an empty spot.  On your left sat a nice looking girl with her hair tied up in a tight ponytail. She offered you a kind smile that faded into a mean scowl only seconds later. Would she have recognized you? Did she knew who you were?

You were the child of two of the most skilled FBI agents of the States. They were top of their field and greatly respected by most people. Seen you family (who all worked in similar fields) were so well known, it was only logical that you also would gain the attention from outsiders. But that also caused them to make wrong assumptions about you. They were often too stubborn to see the truth or didn’t even want to take the chance to get to know you. They just thought you were an arrogant, ego-centric, selfish child who was spoiled to dead and never had to work a day in their life. They thought you were in dire need to constantly get all the attention. They expected you to think highly about yourself while looking down on others, therefore also expecting you to be condescending towards them.  Your parents had tried to prepare you for this. Not everyone is going to like you or take their time to get to know you before voicing their opinions about you. In this field, and similar fields, professional jealousy was very common. It made people act in vile ways. You feared this was going to happen in your training. 

 You sat in your chair with a scared heart while anxiously tapping your pencil against the desk. The supervisor was reading names of a list, but your mind drowned his voice out due to your excessive worrying. It all went smoothly, until he tumbled over a particular hard name. ‘Mie-Mic...’, the poor man looked questionably at his paper, desperate to pronounce the name correctly. As on cue the boy from earlier came to stand into the doorframe. His stained shirt was replaced by yours, fitting him just a tad bit too tightly. It showed off his muscular body even more. ‘Miecsyslaw Stilinski, sir... But most people call me Stiles.’ His voice was lower this time, but still clearly with with raging anxiety. Hearing his name roll of his tongue so smoothly made an alarm go off in your head. It sounded oddly familiar. Surely the nickname ‘Stiles’ had triggered a vague memory to resurface in your head. You just couldn’t figure out any of the details. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch. 

The supervisor looked sternly at the new boy with an unimpressed look on his face. His eyes examined him, clearly judging his appearance. ‘Ah, I see. Well, next time be on time .. and dress appropriately. You don’t need to try showing off your pretentious muscles, it doesn’t suit you.’ That comment made you feel even more guilty. It was your fault he was late and had to dress in a too tight shirt. He apologized with his eyes faintly focusing on something behind the supervisor, before they quickly went to you in order to shoot you a nasty glare. You returned an apologetic smile that didn’t help much with the current situation. He continued to hold eye contact with you until the man’s voice filled the room again. ‘Now take a seat will you’, the annoyance was clear as day. His eyes left yours for a split second as he came to action, stumbling his way towards the empty chair that just happened to be to your right. As he passed by, still holding intense eye contact with you, his faint but sweet cologne filled your nose. A scent that later on would distractingly infiltrate your nose, no matter how much you tried to focus on something else. 

You were pulled out of your trance again when an excited voice filled your ears. ‘(Y/N)(Y/L/N), what a surprise to see you here. What could we possibly teach you? You already know everything and are following your parents footsteps flawlessly.’ Your cheeks reddened at his praising comment. The other students immediately glared at you, envying how sweet he acted towards you. Towards the others he had been cold and distant, whereas now he was talking highly about you. A big difference that everyone easily noticed. The room immediately was filled with a strong uncomfortable tension that reeked of jealousy.

The main reason for his kind demeanor towards you was because you already knew each other. Your parents often visited the Academy, helping with the development of new tasks or other improvements. Other times he visited you at home. He had seen you grow into the person you are today. His bond with you could be considered as a familiar one, or at least close to. So that explained. his fondness of you. The other reason for his praising was the status of your parents. It would be a shame on him and the Academy to talk down on or disrespect your family or you in any way. Besides the great help they provided for the Academy, they also were one of their sponsors.  You just hoped that they wouldn’t use this to your advantage by treating you differently and more highly. You wanted to be given a fair chance. If they were going to train you without fairly criticizing you out of fear of disrespecting your family’s name, then this whole thing would be a waste of time. 

‘Well, everyone is equal to the law. It’s one of the requirements we all need to go through to become an FBI agent. No matter how experienced or inexperienced we are, we all deserve to be treated equally’, you said timidly, trying not to sound overly confident or condescending towards others. You gave the supervisor a timid but kind smile while trying to avoid the burning glares. You didn’t want to go any deeper into the subject. 

Seen that you were a child of the two top FBI agents of the states, meant that you had been trained to follow their footsteps from a very young age. As a baby you were given a lot of puzzles and stimulants to train your senses. At the age of 3 the tasks started to be more difficult and challenging. At your 5 the training started to become serious. When you were 12 you already were allowed to help with smaller cases. At 16 you were actively helping them with all types of cases. Both your parents had gone through the same training, seen that their fathers also had been top FBI agents. At this point the training had become some sort of tradition in your family. Most of the people in your family had underwent similar trainings, as they all worked in similar fields. They varied from FBI agents, cops, sherifs, detectives to medical helpers such as nurses, doctors, firemen,...

The supervisor laughed at your comment. ‘I’m sure you’ll graduate without any trouble. It’ll be an easy game for you. Even in your sleep you’ll still be top of the class.’ Again, you shoot him an awkward but polite smile, being uncomfortable by the amount of praising he has done. It was overwhelming and placing you in a hard position. ‘That depends on how hard you make the tasks’, your timid voice became even more quiet as the mean glares had intensified. ‘Always so humble. Just like your parents.’ With that statement he ended his long praising session.

As he continued his speech of the importance of this training, you let out a deep sigh. You had turned impossibly bright, your face burning from embarrassment. Without intending to, he had put you as a target for everyone to hate on. He made you seem like the enemy that everyone had to fear. He had thrown tons of gasoline on the burning fire of jealousy. Your future colleagues saw you as the one thing that would stand in their way of becoming a FBI agent, something that would withhold them from their dream. If there wasn’t going to be rough play already, there sure would be now. This was going to be a rougher year than you had anticipated. You were already dreading the next day to come. 

-To be continued-

[sooblvr]

dreaming of you

pairing choi soobin x gn!reader // genre fantasy au, fluff // warnings none // word count 1.6k

after yet another sleepless night, you turned off the alarm. tall, dark hair, a gentle expression and an awkward laugh. you knew his deepest secrets and comforted his sobs, yet he remained nameless.

the, literal, boy of your dreams visited you every once in a while since you were less than fifteen years old. he was no more than a couple years older than you and had somewhat grown together.

from imaginary friend to mystery man, it was hard to describe your relationship.

“i saw him again,” you began, “but it was different.”

yerin, who you had known for just over a year, listened attentively. enthusiastic and lively, she made a love story out of your odd situation. “did you get his name this time?” “he was crying. we were, i don’t even know where. it looked like a bedroom, could’ve been his.” “and what was he crying about? he does that quite often.”

you evaded talking about his personal problems. he confided in you, and even though you didn’t even know if he was even a real person, it didn’t feel right to spread his business. “his friends leave him out. he’s very sensitive, and they make him feel like the odd one out. plan things without him, constantly interrupt him, stuff like that that builds up over time.”

“if only you guys could meet,” she sighed dramatically, “you should ask him if he lives in seoul. for all you know he’s in the class next door. get his name too, full name, so we can look him up on social media or something.”

night after night you hoped to see him, but your meetings were sporadic and random. sometimes you were at an amusement park, others in a classroom. around your early teens you began keeping a journal. every dream you could remember from the first to the most recent was written. some dates as specific as ‘04/26/2012’ and others as vague as ‘spring of 2019.’

your most memorable one had a bookmark. he visited you the night before your birthday.

“your present is on my nightstand, but i’m afraid i wasn’t able to bring it with me.” “so you can control when you see me?” “well, no, but i had a feeling i would see you tonight. you’ll be eighteen by the time you wake up.”

both of you stood outside an elementary school. you sat on the swings and bet on who would go the highest. it was strange that no one had complained about your loud laughs and stubborn bickering. having known each other for so long, it always felt weird to ask anything remotely personal. it was like you were ashamed- if you were as close as you acted, shouldn’t you know this already?

“did you actually buy me a present?” “i was hoping i’d show up with it since, you know, our situation is weird enough to where i wouldn’t be surprised if i could bring stuff from my regular life.” “i guess that’s valid. what did you get me?” “remember the time we were at the museum? you liked one of the mood rings.” “go on.” “i found a similar one, and i got it for you.”

his birthdays tended to go by unnoticed. when you asked how he had spent his special day his voice got quiet, murmuring that he didn’t want to talk about it. as much as you wanted to know more about him, you were uncertain of his impression of you.

would he find it creepy if you asked where he lived? what he did in his regular life? did he have a job? was he studying? you figured he had to at least live in the same city as you. all your dreams took place at local places.

your questions were answered on none other than his birthday, which he spent in the tutoring center at your school. he sat by himself, and you saw him from afar. it would’ve been weird for you to just go up to him as if you were best friends. perhaps it was weirder to act as if you were total strangers. he returned his books to the front desk while you signed in.

he smiled at you with his characteristic softness, though you weren’t sure if he had recognized you. acting on an impulse, you caught up to him before he left, “happy birthday.”

there was the slightest blush adorning his cheeks. he laughed nervously, and you felt a sense of comfort from his familiarity. “thank you. i’ll tell you about my day later,” he was gone in less time than it had taken him to respond. and just like every other night, you hoped you would see him again.

“yerin, you don’t understand. he’s much cuter in person!” “i knew you liked him. i haven’t known you for long, but you’ve never talked about someone the way you talk about him.” “no, i couldn’t like him. we don’t even know each other-“ “yeah, yeah, that’s everyone’s excuse.” “we’ve only seen each other in our dreams, but there’s so much more to our lives than that. i act differently with you, and he probably does too. what if he’s a horrible person? what if he doesn’t want to meet me here? and if i never see him again?” “calm down with the mental cartwheels, i’m sure he’s just as great in person.”

you read through your journal, hoping that thinking about him before going to sleep would help you meet him. it didn’t. 

and even then, you wouldn’t see him through your dreams but through the campus counselors. sitting next to each other in silence felt excruciating, but you figured if he wasn’t talking it was because he didn’t want to. if only you could’ve noticed he was thinking the same thing.

as soon as you turned to each other, both hoping to make the first move, the receptionist called his name, “soobin, you’re up next.”

“soobin, no last name,” you told yerin during lunch.

“i don’t know anyone by that name, is he in our grade?” “probably not, he’s older than me.” “i could always ask around if-“ “don’t, i don’t want him to think i’m trying to stalk him or something.” “you’re never getting anywhere with this mister no last name soobin.”

it took months for you to coincide again. it was as if you had broken the biggest unspoken rule of all. though you were content with the newfound knowledge of his name, you regretted it as soon as you realized he had evaporated from your dreams too. 

“happy valentine’s day,” you were at a local park near the school’s campus. you were thankful this was a dream since the place was always incredibly full of people- mostly tourists. “it’s been so long since i’ve seen you.” he looked down, feeling guilty even though he had no control over your meetings.

before you could run out of time, you agreed to meet at the library you had met at. something about the plan felt familiar though. you looked for your dream journal when you woke up. you needed to settle your doubts.

sometime in 2012,

our first dream together was at a library, one much bigger than any of the public ones.

was that it? had your first dream shown where you would meet? you couldn’t remember exactly if the library from the dream had been the one at your university, but it was certainly odd that you remembered to make the distinction between the dream library and the public ones.

even if you were right, you didn’t know what to do with that information. did the other dreams mean anything? were they predicting the future? it didn’t make sense. you were so young in the dreams, how could they represent an adult relationship?

you brought your journal with you to school, ready to show him the coincidence.

“we’ve been to museums, gardens, cafés, even ballroom dances, and all while in our teens,” he went through every page. “do you think maybe they’re hinting at something?” “do you?”

you looked around while collecting your thoughts. both of you were clueless. until he recalled, “you know, i always found it odd that we never asked anything personal. we knew each other in our dreams. in every one except for the first.” “right. for some reason we also never questioned where we were. maybe we already knew.” “except for the library.” “because that’s where we were supposed to meet.”

the more you kept seeing each other, the more you kept finding similarities to your dreams. it was never intentional, but there’d be instances like sitting at the same table, the music playing being the same, or even the date being the same except for the year.

“do you remember this place?” “have we dreamed about it?” “the only dream where we didn’t really do much, we didn’t even talk.” “you kept saying there was something you wanted to say but you never did.” “i knew i wanted to say something, i just didn’t know what.”

he handed you a piece of paper. it was an ad for the place, “this was outside my door this morning.” “and do you know what you want to say now?” “i like you.”

[arts-and-drafts]

Soldier (Hermit Tommy AU)

TW: Graphic depictions of injury, Blood, PTSD

(AKA Tommy shouldn't be startled. Not real happy with this one but regardless, enjoy! I promise I'll post a happy fic one of these days lmao)

-

War means something very different in Hermitcraft.

War doesn't mean war, not really, and so Tommy is out of his element. War in Hermitcraft doesn't mean you are lead to your death like cattle by someone you trust. War in Hermitcraft doesn't mean charging into battle at the age of 10 in a uniform that doesn't fit, with a crossbow too long for your arms. War in Hermitcraft doesn't mean losing everything you love for the cause of independence, and at the end of it all being cast aside like rubbish.

War, real war, is all he's ever known. This mockery that the Mycelium Resistance and Mayor Scar are playing at is nothing even close.

He had a choice, something entirely foreign to him in the first place. Joe doesn't participate in these server skirmishes, and Tommy only finds out by the Hermiton Herald brandishing Scar's declaration of war. To Tommy, it's not even a decision when he starts grinding for materials, but the fact remains that he was never pulled in to the fight against his will.

He overprepares, obviously, and he thinks he breaks Grian's heart when he shoves enchanted netherite in the hermit's arms and reveals his walls of chests stocked with weapons. He's numb when Grian holds him, muttering apologies for a past he had no part in, and the gut wrenching realization that war does not mean what he thought it did chills him to the core.

The obsidian bunker is closed off, the surrounding land terraformed to complete normalcy, and Grian and Tommy leave it behind.

Impulse shows Tommy the new base, and the duplicate. Tommy is awestruck by the pure genius of it. He grins in sick satisfaction when HEP finds the fake base, a part of his past viciously satisfied at the disappointment of their enemies.

Tommy has to remind himself it's just a game, multiple times a day. It's not enough.

Tommy plans defenses, sets traps, grinds and grinds and grinds for materials to fortify the mycelium resistance base as much as he can without Grian noticing. Tommy doesn't want Grian to be upset like what happened at the bunker, but he just doesn't understand.

War is war. And as a child raised in such a thing all his life, Tommy cannot see the difference between a playful skirmish and a fight to the death.

In the end it's all the same.

Tommy cannot see the difference between friend and foe when the real base is discovered, cannot see the faces of the hermits that have given him a home twist in horror and shock as his sword cuts out their throats and they disappear into smoke. All he knows is the terror that seizes his chest and the violent rage that turns his vision red, thrown back to the very first war, thrown back to Dream and Sapnap and George firing TNT cannons over the walls, thrown back to Wilbur pushing forwards, thrown back to ecstatic shock as their advisories retreat, thrown back to a single piece of TNT tearing his home to pieces for the first of many times, thrown back to the obsidian room with a single button--

Tommy snaps out of it when the base is empty, the pristine white floor soaked in crimson and littered with the items left behind from HEP member and Resistance fighter alike. His hands are sticky with the hot blood of those who were so kind to him since the beginning, slaughtered mercilessly without a second thought.

He didn't even hesitate. Months of slow healing and recovery were abandoned without the slightest pause, every regard for those who saved Tommy's life gone immediately.

The child's axe clatters to the ground, and he runs.

He runs from the massacre, runs from the memories and the weapons and the paranoia until his feet fall through the hollow terraforming job onto his obsidian cube he'd made in desperation all those months ago. Tommy's blood slicked hands tremble violently, and iron fills his mouth as he fumbles with a chorus fruit and sinks his teeth into it, squeezing his eyes shut as nausea makes his head spin.

He opens his eyes to the inside of the bunker, and it feels like another arrow through the chest when he remembers the mustached man that taught him that trick, the same man who's scream was cut short by Tommy's blade as soon as he leapt through the hole ripped into the wall of the Resistance headquarters.

Tommy sinks to the floor, only coherent enough in movement to turn his coordinates off of his endlessly buzzing communicator. They're coming for him, he knows. He doesn't need to look at the messages to confirm it.

Tommy curls in on himself, too exhausted to even cry. He tried so hard to not let his past affect his future, but the blood soaked claws of the world he left behind stayed gouged in his back no matter how hard he wanted to forget it.

War is war, in the end, and it won't let Tommy go quietly.

END.

[thran-duils]

Nowhere to Run (P.1)

Title: Nowhere to Run (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Stony. Reader was caught unknowingly stealing from the capitol harvest and is drug to the capitol for punishment. She is offered an option to go to trial or accept work in the main government building. Upon her tour, she ends up in trouble and catches eyes of two of the Master Council that decide she needs to be broken in by their hands. Words: 1,847 Warnings: Non-con, servitude, forced orgasms, verbal and emotional abuse

Author’s Notes: I don’t intend for this to be a super long series. This chapter is setting up the non-con to come. Read at your own risk, 18+ as always. Also, the picture under the cut is the mood in the world that I am seeing; kind of steam punk? AND, song inspo.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You were being led through the long halls of the capitol building, a collar around your neck. The guards could give you a small shock whenever they so pleased if you tried to run or do anything unsavory.

They had found you stealing fruits off one of the carts in the market. Normally, you would have had your hands whipped and spent a night in jail. But this cart that you had so stupidly failed to see had the symbol of the capitol on it. It had been dark, early morning, and you had failed to see it as you snuck around. The envoy had apparently come to the market as the vendors were arriving to fetch the best of the crops for the council members. Stealing from the capitol meant trial there and you were drug from your mountainous outskirt town to the city with others to face the highest court for your crime.

You were brought to a room and shoved inside; the door closed behind you. A man was sitting behind a desk, waiting patiently.

“Sit,” he invited, gesturing at the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “My name is Tsu. I’ll be your counselor for the day if you decide to utilize my offer.”

Cautiously, you did what he asked, sinking into the chair. He picked up a device — you had only ever seen guards that patrolled through your town with them — and clicked it on. A picture came to life, and you watched with awe as he was able to control it with his movements of his hand in the air.

“I have your basic information that they collected upon your arrest. Name, date of birth, crime. But I need to know what it is you do...”

“‘Do’?”

“Your profession.”

“I don’t have a profession. I’m going to trial.”

“Everyone has a profession.”

You stayed silent, not wanting to give this capitol worker any more information than he already had on you. Your town did well enough staying out of their way and business, keeping to yourselves besides when they demanded crops. Giving away too much about yourself seemed unwise.

Tsu eyed you and asked suspiciously, “Was it a, let’s say, less prestigious profession that you are more inclined to not disclose?”

You saw he was eyeing your arms and then neck causing you to you ask, “What do you mean?”

“Do you know women here in the city — and many other places in the kingdom for that matter — are tattooed?”

“I’ve seen people passing through with them yes.”

“Tattoos are normal, expected even. Your body is a canvas. And having the freedom to do with your skin as you please is a status symbol.” You stared at him dumbly, not picking up what he was trying to get at. He sighed, lowering the technological device and leveled with you, “Ladies of the night do not have tattoos. They’re not free and their skin is kept clear to show that. And to me, you look like ink has never touched your skin. Am I correct?”

Heat came to your cheeks, and you sputtered offended, “I’m not a lady of the night! I worked for the local librarian if you need to know! It just didn’t pay well, and I was hungry!”

So much for not giving him information. But he had provoked you. You were always told you had a temper.

“So, you’re saying yes your skin is clear?”

“Yes it is but I’m not a trollop!”

“It matters not. It will invite unwanted attention from people here in the city. And trust me, the higher up they are in status, the bolder they will be about assuming you are... open.”

Exasperated, you asked, “What does this have to do with my trial?”

Tsu shrugged, “With my help, you may not have to go to trial. You’ll just be sentenced to work in the capitol building. Here. I’m just trying to explain to you briefly how some things work. And I was merely asking what you did so I could better place you. If you were working nights, then, there is a spot for you, despite your immediate disdain for the profession. But, if that’s not the case, then I can find you something else here.”

“For how long?” you asked upset.

Tsu shrugged and said, “The typical time for a crime in your bracket is a year.” Your stomach dropped. An entire year spent here? Wearing a collar? Away from your home. “If you are outstanding — and someone happens to notice, which is rare — you could have a couple months shaved off. The other way, if you are unsuitable or enrage someone, they could seek to extend your sentence.”

“So, I am to be at the mercy of these wealthy, spoiled assholes’ whims?” You demanded before you could stop yourself.

That drew the briefest of smirks out of hum before he cleared his throat and said, “As assuming as it is for me to hear you share that behind closed doors with me, because it is true, I would watch your tongue very closely. That’s something that would most certainly get your sentence extended.”

“Noted,” you muttered, sinking back into your seat.

Tsu turned the tablet towards you and said, “If you would prefer to do what I am offering instead of facing trial and time in a cell, sign here stating you understand the conditions.”

You stared at the tablet, weighing your options. This way, you knew exactly what you were getting into and having knowledge and a plan seemed a comfort than going in blind. Reaching forward, you held out your hand.

“Use your finger. There’s no pen.”

Tracing your name, you watched it appear in gold before solidifying in black in the document.

“Perfect. Let’s get you changed into a servant’s gown. And get that collar off.” The collar was going to come off? He must have seen the shock on your face. “You’ll be given an ankle bracelet. It will look delicate, beautiful even, but trust me, it won’t break. And they’ll get an alert if there’s a lot of pressure aka you trying to do so. And that can also get you added time.”

<><><>

It only took half a day for you to find yourself in more trouble. You had been following Tsu as he gave you a tour around the castle and you had stopped as the two of you crossed a bridge. You had been transfixed by the sight of the city, your hands coming to rest on the balcony as you took it in.

You felt a hand at your ass before it cupped, and breath was hot on your ear.

“My, my, I don’t think I’ve seen you before, lovely,” the man rasped.

“Don’t touch me, you piece of shit!” you exclaimed, whipping around and shoving him. He stumbled back away from you, barely catching his balance having been so caught off guard by your reaction. You doubted the people here ever received pushback from servants. He looked furious.

“What did she just say?” the man demanded, coming for you but someone stepped in his way.

This other man was blonde, short haired. “There’s no need to maim the girl here in public, is there?”

The first man looked ready to explode but he grated, “Did you hear what she said to me, Master Barton? She—"

“I have ears and they’re perfect, so yes I did hear what she said,” Barton replied coolly.

Tsu had come back to your side — how far had he gotten, talking to himself, before he realized you were not behind him? He pulled you a few paces away.

“What’s going on, sir?”

Before Barton could say anything, the man spat, “That little wench shoved me and swore at me!”

Tsu inhaled deeply before hissing in your ear, “Did you hear nothing of what I spoke?” You opened your mouth to protest but he continued on in a hushed whisper, “This whole thing can possibly be fixed if you just go apologize. And if you do this I’m going to have to grab the back of your neck without any resistance from you.”

“Gods,” you breathed.

“I’m serious.”

You gave the slightest of nods before Tsu’s hand was tight around the back of your neck and he walked you past Barton to the man. He was staring at you ferociously, like he wanted to tear you apart.

“She’s just arrived today but that doesn’t excuse her actions. She would like to beg your forgiveness,” Tsu told him, and his fingers flexed, signaling for you to start.

You had dealt with bullies before. You could do this.

Trying to keep the disdain out of your tone, you said, “I’m sorry for being enraged and acting impulsively. It was uncouth of me. I’m new and I am trying to learn how to act respectively with your customs. I beg your forgiveness.” You quickly added, “Sir.”

The man straightened out his shirt before sneering, “These little whores keep getting more brazen. Keep them in line!”

With that he turned on his heel and stormed off.

Tsu let go of your neck and he breathed easier that it had not escalated, and the man had begrudgingly accepted your apology. You caught Barton watching and he winked at you before turning on his heel and leaving as well.

<><><>

Tony was watching the screen of the security footage with arousal swimming in his eyes, his fingers at his lips at the woman. He was insatiable at times with his lust — the whorehouse a place he frequently relished in. He turned his attention to Steve.

Steve was cold at first, displeased by the mountain girl’s behavior towards one of the council members. But upon seeing her come back and apologize, a small smirk broke out.

“Thought you might find that interesting,” Clint commented, leaning against the wall. “Seems there’s a little hellion now in our midst.”

Tony paused the recording on a close up of her face and Steve leaned forward. He studied her for a few moments before telling the guards.

“Send her our way,” he ordered. “We’ve needed a new chambermaid. And I haven’t had to break a new one in in a while.”

“Cause she definitely didn’t mean a word of that apology. Look at that fire in her eyes,” Tony chuckled, strolling closer to the screen, looking at her face on the paused screen. Quietly to himself more than anything, his fingers tapping his lips, he said, “No... no you didn’t, did you, little vixen?” He was drinking the sight of her in, and he adjusted his pants, already titillating himself at the thoughts playing in his mind. Turning away from the screen on one foot, he went back for his goblet, taking a drink. He smacked his lips and vowed, “She’ll mean it when we ask for an apology. Of that I am certain.”

“Whatever she’s been assigned, reassign her to our villa community,” Steve added. “She’ll have plenty work there to learn her manners.”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21​ @undecidedsworld​ @holl2712​ @agustdowney​

[rebelhan]

linger

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 2k+

warnings: fluff

a/n: just frolicking in a field with a touch starved mandalorian...

masterlist

ao3 link | gif credit: @rexahsoka​

You press a kiss to his cheek, or where his cheek would be. At the curve of his helmet. The action is so quick that he barely registers it before he sees you bounding down the Crest’s ramp and into the grassy field beyond. It was so fast that he finds himself racking his brain to remember if you had done it before, if it was a normal habit and he had somehow forgotten it.

If he concentrates, he thinks he can feel your lips against his cheek. And if he concentrates a little harder, he can feel them at the stubble of his jaw, and ghosting down the side of his neck, lingering at the point where his heartbeat can be felt at the surface of his skin. Then you turn around and face him, surrounded by a halo as the setting sun lights your silhouette. The grass swallows your figure up to your hips. “You gonna stand there all day?” your voice calls to him. It’s enough to break him out of his trance.

He takes a second to compose himself and in a moment he’s back to the version of himself he usually offers to you. Silent and stoic as he follows your footsteps down the ramp. When you see that he’s moving towards you, you turn your back to him again and wander further away from the ship. With the child fast asleep inside the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian taps a button on his vambrace to seal the ramp of the ship before tracing your steps through the field.

He can’t pinpoint where exactly you intend to go, your path crisscrosses through the field aimlessly, and he dutifully follows, unable to do much else while he’s fixated on the way your hand trails over the taller stalks of grass. 

Four standard days ago, you had told him the Crest needed some repairs. “I’ll take us to the closest inhabited planet,” he had said.

“I have everything we need,” you shook your head. “We can go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere that isn’t populated. Where we can stay an extra day.” That last part was posed more like a question. He had turned his head towards you silently. In the dark cockpit, you could see the stars reflecting off the metal of his helmet.

You knew that he would prefer an uninhabited region. His armor made him a spectacle every time you stopped for food or refueling, and that made protecting the child from bounty hunters quite difficult. Word of a Mandalorian sighting always spread fast.

“An extra day?” he had asked.

You shrugged noncommittally. “I want to stretch out. We’ve been flying for so long.”

“There’s plenty of room in the cargo hold for stretching.” You would’ve thought the remark was an attempt at a joke if not for his perfectly serious tone and the nature of every conversation you had ever had with the man.

“That’s not what I mean.” You huffed out a breath in frustration.

“What do you mean then?” The question was cautious. Like every conversation was. It always felt like he was scared to learn too much about you. And he always offered even less about himself.

You mulled it over for a moment before settling on how to describe it to him.

“I want to see a sun. Not from the Razor Crest where the light is blinding and I have to hide out in the cargo hold until we pass it because I don’t have a helmet with polarizing filters. I want to see a moon peeking out from between clouds. I want to feel a breeze that isn’t just the Crest’s circulation system. Just for a day.”

You must have sounded really desperate because he turned back to the console and punched some buttons before responding to you.

“Okay.”

The smile on your face didn’t disappear from that moment until you stepped into the grass on a planet whose name you had already forgotten.

Your shadow grows longer and longer as you meander, the sky darkening with each passing moment. Before he’s realized it, you’ve led him back to where the Razor Crest stands. He’s far away enough that when you sit down, the tall grass obscures you completely from his vision. For a moment, he’s alone on this planet with nothing but his ship. The thought sends a bolt of panic through his heart, though he can’t understand why it sparks such terror. Long before either you or the child were with him, he traveled alone. The feeling should be familiar, not terrifying. But his heart is still eased when he comes to stand next to where you lay in the field, grass stalks flattened below your back and softening the ground.

You look giddy, he thinks, like the face you get when you finish a particularly complicated repair, but somehow more. You gesture to the grass beside you in invitation. “Join me?”

He doesn’t have to accept. He could say he needed to check on the child, or that he should eat inside the ship now while you spent time outside. You’re just the mechanic he hired. There’s no need for him to spend time with you outside what is necessary. But he knows that hasn’t been true since he started noticing the faces you make during repairs and it’s certainly not true after he’s imagined your lips on his neck.

The Mandalorian lays down beside you as gracefully as he can whilst covered in armor and you turn your head to face him. Your clothed shoulder rests against his pauldron. There is still enough light that he can make out your features but the details are disappearing as the sun falls lower and lower below the horizon. “I’ll get started on repairs at first light tomorrow. They shouldn’t take more than a day of work,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to,” he says before he can stop himself. “We can stay here a few days longer.”

Your smile disappears and reappears as something softer. It’s timid. Surprised, even. It’s an acknowledgement that he must be fighting his instincts to keep moving; after all, staying in one place for more than a day would be out of the norm for the pattern he had established while protecting the child. You turn your head back to the sky and he follows suit. Three moons form an arc across the sea of stars. Thin clouds float slowly across your vision.

You stargaze in silence. It’s peaceful. A different kind of silence from looking at the same objects from the cockpit of the Razor Crest. That silence was always anxious and frantic. Even hours of floating through space was not enough time to enjoy the stars when you were on the run, constantly thinking about the next seven steps, always planning for the worst. But for once, the Mandalorian finds that he’s losing track of time, and he’s not worried about it in the slightest.

Before he’s realized, so much time has passed that the largest moon is at its apex, bathing the field in a silver glow from directly above where you lay. There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, though he doesn’t know how to ask it. There’s a chance you’re asleep after hours of silence under the night sky, but he can’t bring himself to turn his head and check if you are awake. If your eyes meet his through the slit of his helmet, he knows the question will die in his mouth.

“Earlier today,” he begins, then stops. His voice rings clear in the empty field. He waits for a sign that you heard him.

“What about earlier today?” Your voice is quieter than usual and slow with lethargy. It has his heart beating harder beneath his armor and him even more unsure of the words he’s about to say.

The question is jumbled on his lips and he’s calculating the best approach, the most careful phrasing. He’s always cautious, but you could never figure out if it was because he was worried he’d scare you away like a skittish deer or if giving up too much of himself or learning too much of you might somehow trap him.

“Why did you kiss me?” He asks the question in a rush of words. Then he holds his breath. He thinks he’d die if he looks at you.

If he did look at you, he’d find you with a gentle smile on your face, eyes closed as you try to fight sleep. Maybe if you were a little more awake and a little less lighthearted from the afternoon of frolicking, you might find it in you to be embarrassed at the action, or at the very least acknowledge that it was unusual. Instead, you’re shamelessly honest as drowsiness strips away any inhibitions you might have had during the daylight hours.

“I was happy,” you tell him. It’s perhaps too simple an answer, but your mind is too far gone to formulate a better response.

You feel him shift beside you. His head is turned to you now, mapping the features of your face he can see in the moonlight. He notes that your eyes are closed.

“Are you still happy now?” he asks. You barely register the question as you linger at the edge of slumber. It’s a whisper at the corner of your mind. Words escape you in the moment so you do the only thing your muddled brain can think to do.

You turn your head until you can feel the metal of his pauldron cold on your cheek. Another small movement brings your lips to the piece of armor and you place a kiss there. It’s so quick and so gentle that he would have missed it had he not been staring at you.

You still completely and he would have thought you had fully fallen asleep, but your quiet, uneven breaths are picked up by the sensors in his helmet.

Then suddenly, your hand is feeling along his vambrace, searching for something. You seem to find it when you grip his fingers and pull his hand towards your face. Sleep has destroyed all command of your impulses and he feels you tracing the material of his glove near his wrist.

Your fingertips brush his bare skin and you stop your movements. His heart stutters. Your skin touches his at the gap between his glove and his vambrace. A tiny patch of skin he’d always been a little bit careless about. The sensation is wholly unfamiliar, but it lights a fire in him that screams for more contact. He doesn’t want you to move. His nerves are buzzing with the new feeling and he swears that when he checks next morning, your fingerprint will be burned into his wrist.

Then the feeling is gone and immediately replaced with something he’d only come to crave earlier that day. Your lips touch his wrist and Maker, he’s gone. He’s ascended. The moonlight feels impossibly brighter. His helmet is suddenly suffocating and his chestplate too tight. The breeze rustling the grass around your bodies is delightfully cool, but every inch of his skin prickles with heat.

You drop your hand, still clasping his, to your stomach. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.” And with that, you promptly fall asleep, seemingly unaware of the turmoil you had just caused in the man lying beside you. 

Long after your breathing has slowed, he continues to watch the rise and fall of your chest in silence. He sees only what the moonlight offers to him, refusing to activate his helmet’s night vision. He can barely make out the outline of your hand tangled with his, resting on your stomach. Though the skin at his wrist is covered now, his glove having shifted back over it, he can still feel the ghost of your lips brushing over it. When he closes his eyes, the sensation grows stronger. If he concentrates, he can imagine what your fingers interlocked with his would feel like without the leather that separates them. It feels like a secret, hidden from even the night sky by layers of leather and beskar. But it’s a secret he’ll share with you in the morning.

[everythingthemoontouches]

Hiii Jahn!🌙 I’m just a new follower. I discovered you while searching for D9 asks. I was amazed by your in-depth explanation on each placements. 🤍 I’d like to send in my D1 & D9 charts also for future spouse reading to understand more about it.Thank you so much!!🤍 Please take your time. I’ll patiently wait. 💕 Hoping you’ll have a lovely day/night! 🌹

Hello there

This, my love has been a longtime coming. First off I'm gonna introduce you to an intuitive read and then present it in a more formal, bulleted manner. You seem to ha e chosen quite a challenging path in this lifetime. Props to you for bravery. And a hug + some tea to help you brave it 💕 your life could be a beautiful movie on love, healing, growth, spirituality and personal power.

Future BAE seems to be stable, practical reliable with service being his love language. He is down to grow together, and help you walk in your power.

Taurus rising.

Scorpio 7th house. + Pluto + moon.

Wow. Lots of shadow work involved when it comes to close personal relationships. You need to turn that critical eye inwards.

Untill you work at managing or integrating your inner child issues, any partners you end up with will continue to trigger you. At its best, this is someone who helps you work through your feelings. Breakdown. Confront reality. Breakdown and rebuild yourself stringer than ever. A hades and persephone kind of love. Lots of sexual allure. Strength, protectiveness, passion, push and pull, makeup sex? Specially since the ruler of the 7th house (Mars) is in the 5th house. You're not the kinda person who'd be happy to marry just for stability. Passion and mutual attraction, love is a must.

Mars and rahu. Service. Over exerting for those you love. Days spent in bed. Service kink. Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets.

You're definitely attracted to people who help you better your place in the world. They have to have a little bit of ' I wanna do good / change the world in them'. A friendly leader kinda figure. Disciplined.

Your darakarka Mars is retrograde. Controlling. Dominant. Future BAE is definitely gonna overthink themselves into a worry when it comes to dating and wooing. Or they could think that only their way is the right / best way to do soemthing. Poor lil baby( I say baby, but as a Virgo Mars they're probably the person who takes charge, plans, overanalyzes things has a set way of doing things.) this could be someone who is an advocate for universal free education, teaches children for free or some such. Could second guess themselves when it comes to taking action.

Mars Rahu conjunction: sub kink. They'd want a lot of adulation. Could be from a different culture from you or have studied in a very different environment.

I think your fs gets better at dealing with overthinking after you guys tie the knot. They learn to be more at peace with themself, letting their intuition guide them instead of focusing too hard on trying to do the logical thing. Okay with being messy. May like to act and arrange things behind the scenes. Imagine coming home tired to find that they've already called the restaurant, arranged for your favorite food to be dropped off, warmed, alid out on the table. Gives me the vibes of a puppeteer(katputli - a rajasthani folk dance)pulling the strings. You can't see them, but the show goes on.

From being ficusssed on accumulating wealth your focus goes towards doing things that boost your sense of Self confidence. You could also grow more tactful as you learnt to seek out harmony. You probably become more direct and assertive as a result the peopep you attract are more easy going / Libra like.

I'm seeing a house for a wedding present? Or moving into your spouse's ancestral home. They could also come from a matrilineal lineage.

Your household could be supported by one or both of you working in tax, insurance, financial industries. There could also be soemthing related to life insurance.

Pluto and Saturn in the 7th is a tad concerning. There's a very heavy sense of some kind of karmic duty. Saturn is exalted in Libra.

Way too controlling. Narcissism. Moon Mars mother. Karmic ties. Moon 8th house.

U must learn to stand up for yourself.

If you're meant to have any babies in this lifetime, they'd probably visit you in a dream or a psychic trance before they come down to earth. Call it mothers intuition. This is just a gut feeling wrt your moon in 8th house in Scorpio in the D9. I say this because the moon rules the 4th house of home, and children are an important part of the house if you're a mom. The 4th house is also the home/ heartland what you'd protect.

You suppress your emotions. Emerges as a volcano. But a cold one. U turn to ice and grow aloof.

Out of body experiences

You need to learn to be more dominant and combative. I'd suggest watching the teal Swans video on creating a zero sum game in relationships. Strengthened by Aries ascendant in d 9. This life u gotta learn to fight for yourself, and not sit quietly because people attacked u or kept u under their thumb when u were younger by a strict dad.

OK, now let's look at the placements and aspects

D1 lagna (ascendant) VS D9 lagna

You go from comfort stability minded to taking more risks and initiative. Self Confidence increases. Assert your needs better.

Vargottama Moon

The moon is quite dominant as it does not change signs between d1 and D9. You're super cooperative and hate to disappoint people. I'd suggest reading up more on Anuradha Nakshatra.

Moon - Pluto - 7th house

Could indicate karmic ties or past life connections to FS. You work through a lot of your own inner insecurities, self doubt, lack mindset related issues in close romantic relationships. There could be some mother wound related issues. You can only love as deeply as you allow yourself to love yourself. In order to attract people who inspire positive growth in you, you must first sit with your shadow, examine why people trigger you, and make peace with yourself or, perhaps your mom?

Mars Rahu - sextile moon

Mars and Rahu are both impulsive action oriented Planets. Them sextile your Pluto and moon could lead you to feel quite triggered and attacked by the slightest hint of advice or suggestion from someone else. Sex with the wrong people can really mess with you. In a better manifestation good sex has you feeling liek you can change the world and also that you're super safe and secure.

Venus combust - 10th house

You need to feel appreciated for your uniqueness. Ego battles could arise and get in the way of finding, expressing love.

Saturn- Ketu Pisces

The ruler of your 7th Nakshatra this is someone who loses themself to community service, could do too much for the wrong cause. Money could come in from fish farming. Seduments or other aquatic culture.

Anuradha 7th house

This is a Nakshatra that focuses on achieving success by working with a group. Your fs is collaborative and good at managing people. Someone who shares success. And is hence likely to go far ahead in life. Major success may come later in life.

Mars 7th house

Expect healthy amount of frank, direct communication. Some arguments with FS. But there's also protectiveness, concern, and the will to do the best by someone. Mars and moon aspects indicate a healthy sex life. They're probably enamored by you. You in turn would find them super sexy.

7th Nakshatra lord and Ketu

Your fs and relation with FS is a highly spiritual one. You could both be looking for a soulful connection. There is love, there us duty there is a need to help each other value time, focus on the future. They could have been a strict disciplinarian figure Ina past life. You both probably have a knack to look down at your phone just in time tos ee an email / message alert from them? Perhaps you two run or help/volunteer at an institution for the mentally challenged.

7th house relation to pieces

OK, so this is where we have a lot going on. Mars opposes saturn. And is placed with Rahu. Mars here feels restrained. Your fs could feel blocked in their creative gifts. In the sense that all they want to do is focus on it, create, post, gain fame but saturn and Ketu try to restrict their creative time. They could be perfectionists. Having to redo things. Since Rahu is also in virgo there's a focus on creating things with the hands and fine tuning every single detail. Directed towards you, this is someone who is always encouraging you while trying to micromanage a lot of details because they think they're being helpful. This is sosmrhtinf you two could have in common so

Mars Darakarka: they teach u to fight for you. Opinionated. Honest. Perfectionist. Service before self. Hardworking. Have integrity. Very active mind.

Mars conjunct Rahu-venus D9 creativity

The 5th house rules creativity and with your venus in the 9th house in D9 your fs is someone who encourages u to be more creative and follow or take up a course to be better at your hobbies. It's like full creative freedom to be you and do you.

D9 Exalted Saturn

Justice. Duty. Not very affectionate but they make sure you have everything you need. Balanced approach. Someone thoughtful. They're fair in a fight.

Libra, venus ruled 7th house

Beauty, peace and harmony in thr relationship. You're not gonna feel like you're being taken for grated. They will treat you to nice things and probably have a schedule for dates and other such romantic leisure activities.

Jupiter rules 9th, in 2nd house

Philosophy. Art. Culture. Museums. Travel coudk be a key focus in your married life. This is something you two bond over. Could also strike God fortune when u do travel or go on pilgrimages. Luck and money via foreign sources.

Rahu in aquarius

Social media influence or you get better at making friends just make sure that they're not provoking you into taking uncalcukated risks or actions that are wya too bizarre. Could denote some kind of breakthrough with technology, a love for a high end gadget driven spaces. An interest in Photography. Any couples pictures posts would be well received. Like you're the couple that looks exotic in their photos. Radiant. Aloof, intellectual, stimulating and even more appealing together.

Jupiter Taurus in 2nd house of D9

Debilitated Jupiter 9th house- religious issues - venus 9th house - conversion?

You may have struggled with religious ideologies being forced on you, or the one you were born into didn't quite feel right. Your fs may follow a different religion or show you that being religious does not mean you feel bad about some of your lifestyle choices.

Pisces Mars d9: he is either tactful and charming or a bit manipulative. You may feel like you prefer to act behind the scenes. It may be a little hard to be recognized for the things you do untill you get really really angry.

D9 Cancer 4th house: the home is a serious source of pride. Beautiful interiors and you'd be quite guarded about who you invite over. The best meals. Soothing interiors.

Pilgrimage within the 1st year of becoming a mom ( Jupiter's aspect on the 9th house)

Venus in Sagittarius D9: future BAE is gonna love his freedom. He could be a workaholic.

Alrighty, that's all I've got today. I hope this helps. I wish you the best on your healing and integration journey

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 9 | " THE SPACE BETWEEN US "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

warnings: very mild swearing; brief arguments

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

START OF PARK SUNGHOON'S POV

I stood there at the side, leaning against the arched entrance. I never meant to eavesdrop in the conversation you were having with the firstborn of the Yang family. It piqued my interest upon hearing your troubles and impulsively decided to help you. To pass time, I guess… or to stall my father into giving me his magnificent title of a duke and have me marry some lady I don’t even desire to have.

Without any significant bargain in the offer, I suggested anyway with the thought that maybe this could help me look at myself the way everyone did before I made history with your brother. The physical bruises and scars we both afflicted on each other faded with time, but the torturous memory continues to haunt us. I may look fine around his presence, but he never had the slightest idea of how I curse myself every single night knowing I not only ruined him and his tender affections with Yena, but our budding and steadfast friendship as well.

I was heinous then. But I swear with my whole heart, I don’t ever intend to hurt you now the way I did with your brother. The moment I let myself drown in your alluring gaze under that brightly lit moonlight, I told myself I won’t take another girl for granted. Not just because I owe it to Niki, but because you were the first person who looked at me without judgment despite knowing your brothers detest me with the entirety of their souls.

I’ve been courting you for over a month now and I’m completely aware of the things we’ve agreed upon about the ruse; needless to say, one might catch feelings in the aftermath. I know this was all a show to give Jungwon a headstart for his own game, but why am I gravely pained every time his name slips out of your lips? Why do I keep myself up on most nights thinking about this lingering question of who do you love? Why do I want to hold you even closer to my side every time he looks at us in dismay?

I’ve come to know that I had myself caught in the middle of whatever this is between you and him; that I’m just the fuel to the fire that’s already been there, left neglected within time. But I can’t help but feel like I need to protect you from him; from whatever hurt he might cause you over time. Although I know my place in all of this and where I stand, it still stings thinking that it isn’t in your heart.

Why would it be, anyway? I’m only just a page you couldn’t keep; a filler in your romantic novel who had the part of the villain origin story but couldn’t fight your hopeless hero. Sadly, Jungwon’s five steps ahead of me. So much for telling the ton there was us in the making, but you weren’t even mine to begin with.

Your mother invited me and the Yang family for dinner a sennight ago. She said it was to properly introduce me as your husband-to-be to your family, that includes your lover’s sitting across the table discussing the recent blow from the Daily Tattle, which was, of course, us.

“Jungwon, dear, have you wished your friend, Y/n, luck on her future wedding with the duke-to-be? Need I remind you that she’s going to need some of it from her best friends.” Lady Yang gently nudged her son who was busy tapping his spoon and fork upon the table. “Jungwon here is finally courting someone, have you heard of that, dear? Lady Choi, daughter of the-”

“The ever famous cheese merchant of our city, Viscount Choi, whom without, we wouldn’t be eating this opulent cheese on the table right this very moment.” I finished, which made the two mothers impressively smile in my direction. Realizing how uncomfortable you become at the very slightest mention of Jungwon’s new lover, I figured butting in could end your agony; seeing that your man is stupid enough to not read the situation in front of him. He seemed more occupied with the utensils than your disheartened state.

As predicted, you excused yourself, and it went without saying that Jungwon followed after you as you rushed out the dining hall and out to your garden. Your brothers and his soon left the hall and went with their casual discourse on the parlor, leaving his and your mother exchanging wedding plans with the company of champagne bottles and cheese. I held my head up high as I walked into the library to reflect on matters that kept me wondering at night. Until Niki strode in, with a pocket watch in hand.

“Riki, I’m-”

“Save your breath, Your Grace. You’re going to need it in case you piss the hell out of Jungwon and he lands his knuckles on your pretty face again.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Can’t get your hands dirty for your sister yet you can for Yena?”

“Do not fucking tempt me, Sunghoon.”

“Too bad. I’d love to see you try, though.”

“And I’d love to see your little mouth shut, Your Grace. You’re impressive, but I’m sure you’ve always been told that. For a moment there you really had me thinking you were about to apologize to my brother. Turns out you’re still the coward that you’ve always been.” Jay walked in unannounced, slightly scaring me. He’s like a lion ready to hunt for prey, even though he’d just sit there looking unbothered. I’ve always deemed your eldest brother with veneration. All I did was drop my head low when he threw me those harsh words, though I completely agree as they embody me in so many ways possible. I hate it.

“A wedding, huh? Don’t you think you’re going too far, already? This ruse is nothing but a shame to both our families. Heed me while I’m asking you nicely to end this foolishness you’ve invoked on our sister.”

“Forgive me… but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Fortunately, Niki was quick enough to grab a hold of Jay when he was about to come at me. I must say this now before it’s too late, and better be in front of your brothers than your lover.

“I will take full responsibility for Y/n. I will be a man of worth to her and a word of honor, I will end any future causes of grievances upon us both. I will protect her from it, just as I’m doing now.”

“You’re doing nothing but stall her from her fate with Jungwon!”

“And how do you know she still cares for him? Haven’t you seen the look on your dear sister’s face whenever Jungwon’s name is brought up? Haven’t you seen that man strolling around the town with a fancy girl in hand a week after breaking your sister’s heart? I thought so. But you just want things to go your way. I’ll respect that. For now.”

I dashed out of the library after giving them a piece of my mind. Though I had planned to apologize to Niki, Jay’s words got the best of me. I headed towards the garden to look for you, but before I could have your attention, Jungwon already did.

END OF PARK SUNGHOON’S POV

 Jungwon rushed to the garden, following Y/n’s quick pace in an attempt to block out any possible thoughts about her lover. Basking under the bright moonlight, Jungwon grabbed her by the wrist, making her turn and crash against his jabot-clad chest.

“Y/n, please-”

“Really, Jung? God! You totally had me fooled that day when I thought we were having a moment!”

“We did! But-”

“But what? You can’t hold yourself accountable for the things you left me with so you squander your way with another lady? Tough blow, don’t you think?”

“Please, Y/n, I just need you to listen to me and-”

“I’m tired, Jung. All these years, you let me wait for you for five years just to have you run back and hurt me again. I’m tired of you making a fool out of me, and I’m dumb enough to always let you. Because I love you. I love you so much, it fucking hurts. I have so much love for you yet here you are, always welcoming me with fleeting bliss and leaving me with endless torment. But the damage has been done and I’m out. I love you, but I guess I’m going to have to leave it like this.”

“You still do?”

“God! I poured out my heart for you and all you could say was that? Jung, how can you be so dense?! I wouldn’t have let you hold me that day in the forest if I don’t love you! I asked you for a new start but you ran off and a week later you’re traipsing around Northumberland with Lady Choi! Right in front of me!”

“You were with that man that day too, in front of me! You look at him with so much admiration with your hand hanging on his arm. How do you think that made me feel?!”

“More than the damage you did to me? What a load of nonsense, Jung! And here I thought you already knew that Sunghoon and I were just fooling around to get to you.”

“Well, I’m here now, Y/n! I’m all yours now!”

“No, you’re not. You just can’t bear the truth that you lost me to him. At the end of the day, it will always be your pride. It always has been. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m apologizing but I still will. This ends here, Jung. I wish you well.”

The entire time that Y/n and the young lord were arguing out the garden, Jay and Niki were carefully listening from the library’s window; Niki figured it was finally time to spill the truth to his sister.

Niki followed Y/n to her room, taking note of the soft sobs and sniffles she emitted. She turned around when she felt her brother’s footsteps trailing after her.

“Riki…” Niki was suddenly enclosed by Y/n’s tight embrace, dampening his jabot shirt with her tears. He returned the warm hug as he gently rubs her corseted back, feeling the constant huffs from her crying.

“I’m sorry about Jungwon.”

“He doesn’t deserve me.” The lady muffled against her brother’s chest.

“Maybe you’re right. And neither does Sunghoon. Listen, Sister. There’s something I need to get off my chest. Come.” The two entered the lady’s room and Niki carefully shut the door tight, locking it in the process. He sat atop the neatly arranged bed while patting the space next to him, gesturing Y/n to sit closer to his side.

“Jay isn’t happy with the sudden announcement of your engagement, and neither am I. But always know that I will always have your back, just like how you always have mine. I’ve seen how Sunghoon made you smile and laugh like how you used to with Jungwon back in the day. This day feared me but we’re here now, and I must tell you the reason why we’re all against him courting you in the first place.”

“Remember Yena? The girl I told you about in the letters? Sunghoon… he deceived her. He made her cheat against me, fed her with lies, and tricked her into thinking our love was nothing but a hoax. I saw them one day in his father’s garden, I followed them, curious enough to see how he made her happier than when she was with me. Until he kissed her. He took her first kiss when I thought we’d be sharing it with each other. And she kissed him back... like I wasn’t even someone to reckon with. Needless to say, I attacked him. The boys went against him afterward. Jungwon was there too. With all the lies he wired into her brain, Yena never looked at me the same after that day. And the many days that followed. She and Sunghoon just suddenly stopped seeing after the fight that erupted between us.”

“The thing was, sister, Sunghoon never loved her. He was young and didn’t want to let the opportunity pass, that’s what he told us when I had his collar by my clutch. That was the only excuse he could ever give us. The asshole that he is.” Niki clicks his tongue while dropping his head low, gaze fixed on the carpeted area on the floor across them. “Fuck. I would still have Yena if he didn’t try to treat things like we were playing a game of who could get the girl first. Thinking about the time he wasted on nothing genuine, Yena could have spent it on me instead and I would have had her here, introduced to Mother and the ton.”

Y/n placed a hand on her brother’s closed, shaky fists. Niki let out soft sniffles, trying his best to keep himself from cracking. “I’m sorry, Riki, I didn’t know. He told me it was all in the past and that he desires to make amends now.” Niki jerks up, eyes fixed on his sister’s eyes. “You’ve only heard his point of view, you never heard mine. Sunghoon’s made a whole record in university, Y/n. He goes around the grounds breaking hearts like he owns them. Girls would swoon over him and he would gladly oblige. What an ambitious, cunning little prick. And now he has you wrapped around his fingers, the same way he did to Yena.”

“I’m sure he means no harm now, brother. He’s been nothing but kind and gentle to me. He makes me utterly happy; the part of my romantic story where I used to want Jungwon to be consistent of.”

“You know, I’ve always been considerate of your choices and aspirations, sister. But I will not lose you to Sunghoon like this. I’m afraid Jay and I will have to be very uptight with you seeing him from now on. I’m sure by now you’ve come to understand why Jungwon’s scared of surrendering you to him. He means well, sis, Jungwon…”

“I will not settle for someone whom I have to spend a lifetime second-guessing whether he wants me in his life or not.”

“But he’s been missing you a lot lately, hasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid him missing me is far too different from him wanting to marry me.”

Niki only sighs before planting a soft kiss on his sister’s temple and fixing his fit to present himself back to the lobby. Y/n was left in her room, fidgeting with her fingers while anxiously biting her bottom lip in deep contemplation.

Sunghoon may have stolen her attention from Jungwon, but she had to admit, she never regretted it. She has felt safe with Sunghoon the past months they’ve been together. Jungwon did nothing but torture her constantly with every chance he got. Although they hadn’t been sticking around their ruse’s ground rules lately, she feared the time between her and Sunghoon would be up soon and she wouldn’t feel his comforting presence around her anymore.

Sunghoon may have gotten her used to their dilly-dallying that time apart from each other could make her feel miserable. Not to mention the embarrassment that would come with it considering she is foretold to be Northumberland’s next duchess after all.

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ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

[oldnwise]

Sillyness broke out -- Vader & Obi-Wan: You only shove a lightsaber into the ones you love

The fight had been going surprisingly well for Obi-Wan, at least at first. But stumbling while fighting his ex-friend who appeared to want to demolish him, wasn't the best move.

The tiniest of missteps, the slightest misjudgement of forward momentum and downward angle of an opposing lightsaber and…

“Owwww…”      

He looked down at the red hissing ‘saber shoved through his right side, looked up at Vader’s frozen figure and the world started turning horizontal.  He was grabbed as he fell and his lightsaber dropped from his hand.

“Good…hit..”   Seemed appropriate to offer positive reinforcement to your once-padawan when he actually did something right for a change.

“You will not die.  I demand you survive.”

“Always…telling me what to do.  Excuse me…I might…pass..out…”  He apparently did because the next thing he knew he was sitting in another unfamiliar vessel with Vader’s breathing sounds very loud near him.  The Dark Lord-once-Anakin was sitting next to him in the pilot’s seat and a starship entry bay was visible through the front windows.  Talking took too much breath and way too much thinking so he just closed his eyes and tried communing with the Force, which appeared to be absent just then.

The thud of landing and the feel of being once again picked up brought him back, and Vader was carrying him down the ramp.  Various Imperial types were milling around and one of them who was striding forward through the pack caught his attention.  His eyes narrowed as the Grand Inquisitor stopped and did an obsequious bow.

“Can I..have my lightsaber…”

The traitous once-Jedi glanced at Obi-Wan in surprise as Vader brushed past him.  “Be quiet, you may not have your lightsaber.”

“My Lord, congratulations!” 

Obi-Wan glared, despite having to twist to see him.  “Frick you!”

They were past him before Obi-Wan could see more the first look of surprise on that ugly white face.

“I am shocked,” Vader said in a surprisingly amused tone.  “Such language!”

“Well,” Obi-Wan muttered, wriggling into a more comfortable position against the hard armored chest, “he is a piece of bantha poodoo, I’m…ouch…surprised you haven’t honed your rage on him by now.”

“I admit, it has been a close thing lately.”

“Just…give into the impulse and do the Universe a favour.”

“Master Kenobi, that is almost a Dark Side response you had there.”  He planted his burden onto a medical floater and walked beside it with one hand on Obi-Wan’s arm.  “Such dangerous emotions.”

“Hmph.  After being dragged through fire, insulted and used as a target dummy by you, a little dark feeling is hardly unexpected.”

“An excellent start.”

As the doctors took him away, he issued a final taunt.  “If you think you will turn me into a Sith or something similar, you can forget that.  I’d make a terrible Sith.  I’d be telling you to search your feelings and consider options and not to be so aggressive…”

He had the feeling Vader might be rethinking his plans….