#why be gifted such a valuable thing for no reason?

[in-the-multiverse]

You only knew a world of caution, mistrust, betrayal

Never the soul bound, to care and look out for someone…anyone

Never the tightly woven teams, to trust a chosen few and cherish each hour with them

No wonder you look around and ask

“When did everyone go soft?”

[nnight-dances]

BEAUTIFUL MONSTER

PAIRING: yoon jeonghan x afab!reader

GENRE: angst, smut, fluff in that order of significance

TROPES: workplace romance, boss!jeonghan x associate!you, casual fwb situation but they're not friends they're coworkers, intense banter, nakamoto yuta makes a cameo, toxic relationship at some point but it gets better trust me.

"beautiful monster" because in private, jeonghan is nothing short of an angel to you – charming and devious, teasing but all in good faith, in faith that he was interested in you. but in public, he's monstrous with his cold shoulder, his indifference to you like you weren't in his bed every night, humming him to sleep.

PS: what are you doing with your life if you haven't listened to beautiful monster yet???? go listen to the gift from god called this man from jeonghan x wonwoo okay bye ily

"what makes you think you can prance into my office all prettied up and not even say a hi to me?" 

you look up from the stack of paper you're holding, and innocently tilt your head. "sorry, boss," you accentuate the last syllable with a smile, "just trying to be as resourceful as i can be." 

"oh, come on," jeonghan swivels dangerously in his hefty desk chair, all just to show you the little ridiculous hint of a smirk on his lips. "you're not really mad about that?"

"about what, sir? i'm just doing justice to my position in my short time here, after all."

"you know, quoting things i said back at me isn't as effective of an attack as you think it is, y/n," he tells you, but you can tell he's a little worked up because he shifts a little in his seat. "cut the fucking attitude, princess, what's wrong?" 

you narrow your eyes at him, more so at his audacity to pull out the private nickname in your shared place of work in broad daylight. and on a wednesday no less. "nothing's wrong, mr. yoon. i'm just reflecting on your incredibly insightful speech at the meeting earlier. seems like i don't know you all that well."

"well, you do know me all that well, which is why deep down, you know that whatever i said it wasn't addressed to you." jeonghan stands up and you have to swallow the smug look that threatens to spill out. 

yoon jeonghan, the star employee at his company, didn't get out of his chair, not even to greet the most valuable client. yet here he was, walking to you, hand on your elbow, dangerously unprofessional. 

"must be really deep down because i don't think the man i know would be that cruel to our newest hire," you bite back, shaking his hold over you, "and perhaps it would've helped me interpret you better if you didn't address your grand speech to every low-level associate in the room."

"low-level–? y/n, you know that–"

you don't let him finish, sure he'd find a way to spin his words and get out of being held accountable for the shit he spewed two hours ago. well, you weren't gonna let him get his way, not this time. you bow politely, "good day, mr. yoon. let me know if i can assist you with any work-related matters." 

god, you could be vexing when you wanted to, jeonghan thought to himself watching you stride off in your unbelievably well-fitting pants. he does wonder how you manage to never show up to work covered in creases, what with all the running around you do, from his place to yours every morning. okay maybe every other morning, but it was impressive, the way your white shirts were always crisper than the morning coffee you handed him on your way to your desk, and the way he'd never managed to see your lipstick a smudge out of place in all the time he'd worked with you.

"where'd jenna go again?" you question out loud when you return to find the new hire out of her desk yet again. she'd been the reason jeonghan had burst into his impormptu but condescending talk and though he had some fair reason to speak the way he did, you didn't appreciate the hierarchical intimidation it encouraged. 

"um, i think she just took her fifth bathroom break of the day," muttered seulgi with a grimace. "every time she does that the number of files on my desk goes up."

"send 'em over, seulgi."

"what? no, you have more than enough on your plate–"

"my research and writing skills are what got me hired, so i might as well revisit my roots once in a while. plus, it's gonna take a while to replace jenna, if we're trying to find someone this late."

"all right then, i guess i'll bring these over to you then," seulgi says in an apologegtic tone as she plops a fresh set of files on your desk, which has managed to stay clear of any such physical copies of documents since last year when you convinced joshua to make the firm go paper-free.

well, mostly. except for monkey jobs like this one which usually went to inexperienced hires. but given the unfortunate situation you find yourself in, you have no choice but to ignore your strcitly digital policy to pull out your wooden pencil for the first time in a while.

it takes you long enough to get through half of the stack that jeonghan's done for the day and you haven't moved an inch. he pauses in front of your desk, taken aback at the sight of you reading through a physical file. and then he notices the empty desk down the line, one that should've held the redhead called jenna. 

"and since when did you start doing unpaid labor?"

you look up with a start and sigh when it's jeonghan. "good night, mr. yoon." 

"wow, that's cold. can't a superior worry about his precious protege's wellbeing? y/n, you're overqualified for this work so why don't you put it down and go home?"

your mouth twitches with a bitter comment you barely hold in. "i'm the best person for this job till we find someone else to do it. i'm also the only one with the balls to sit down and finish it on top of my own workload. so i'm sorry but i won't be putting this down just yet. did you want me to call driver choi for you?"

jeonghan blinks silently at you, realizing you weren't gonna listen to a word he said, not even if he was the only voice of reason in your vicinity right now. he shrugs, "i can see myself out. just be here on time tomorrow, we have an important case to discuss."

"as you wish," you nod cordially and return to your work. 

– 

jeonghan's up till four that night, which is when he hears you shuffle into his condo. he silently thanks his past self who decided to drop a spare key to his place when your visits had become a regular thing. 

you're pulling your hair out of the tight ponytail you'd kept it in all day and throw the tie on the nightstand, almost screaming out of your skin when you see jeonghan looking at you, propped up on his shoulder. 

"what the fuck– why are you still awake?"

"why are you mad at me?"

you ignore his question and start untuck your shirt from your pants, unbuttoning them. 

"oh my god, is this the day you finally have mad sex with me–?"

you give jeonghan an unimpressed smile as you let the pants drop and throw yourself into the empty space beside him, closing your eyes with a weary sigh. "wake me up at 6."

jeonghan being the devious idiot he is, only worsens with every second you don't address his words directly. he rolls closer to you, hand finding his place under your shirt, on your hot stomach. "babydoll, i'm sorry you had to work so late," he whispers as he presses a kiss to your skin. "but if you don't talk to me, i can't make things right."

"you can't make things right, period, jeonghan," you tell him, eyes still closed. the man wouldn't get any more of your energy than you could help. "i'll be back to normal if you just let me sleep."

"you're being mean, baby, just let me make it up to you, okay?"

"jeonghan, unless you can change who you are as a very human being, i don't think there's anything you can do," you strain, shoving him away, "i'm not about to throw a tantrum so don't worry. let me sleep if you want to have your best associate working for you tomorrow."

that seems to get the message across because he doesn't say another word. or maybe he does but you're too busy slipping into the sleep you desperately need after a crazy work day. jeonghan wakes you up with a solemn look on his face and you sit up in a panic, thinking something's gone wrong at work.

but then he says, "sorry, i overslept. it's 7. you'll have to wear the spare pair of clothes you keep here to work."

"i hate you," you shriek as you jump out of bed, rushing to freshen up in his bathroom as he nods and starts getting ready himself. he does seem like he's keeping to himself because usually, jeonghan would've made a few too many comments about how cozy and domestic it is for the two of you to be using the same mirror to get ready as if his place didn't have any other mirrors to use. he even lets you fix his tie without a snarky comment, just a little kiss on your cheek that you barely tolerate without a shake of your head. 

he watches you put on the makeup you keep in your purse for emergencies like this, but can't help muse over how much he must hate to the idea of losing you at work to be acting this obedient. you smile a little to yourself, pleased at least at his respect for you, if not his love. 

truth be told, you often regretted being in this strange more than coworkers but less than lovers situation you had with yoon jeonghan, your direct superior at work. but you were too deep in it to back out, too down bad for the man's charms to turn your back to him. 

it had started almost as soon as jeonghan had laid eyes on you, his private conversations with you always consisted of one too many suggestive comments and he somehow always managed to flirt with you without you truly registering it. by the time you recognized the unprofessional nature of your relationship with him, you were five kisses too late. late nights at the office turned into late nights at his place, because it was conveniently much closer to the office than yours. 

somewhere along the way, though, you had to face the harsh reality that no matter how sweet jeonghan could be when he was flirting with you, he was always going to be something of a beautiful monster. because in private, jeonghan is nothing short of an angel to you – charming and devious, teasing but all in good faith, in faith that he was helplessly into you. but in public, he's monstrous with his cold shoulder, his indifference to you like you weren't in his bed every night, humming him to sleep.  

the harsh reality you face that very morning when he calls you into his office. 

"morning how can i–," you start and then make eye-contact with the man seated on the sofa across from jeonghan. "oh, morning, mr. nakamoto! i didn't realize you were in town!"

nakamoto yuta laughs loudly at your hurried greeting, crossing his legs as he shamelessly checks you out. "oh, come now, call me yuta like the good old days, y/n! and where were you this morning when i was all over the place trying to find the famous yoon jeonghan's office."

"ah, i'm sorry i was a little late this morning–" you spare a glance at jeonghan smiling in his chair, "my cheap excuse of an alarm didn't go off on time. i really should get a new one."

"if you'd come to work for me like i asked, you wouldn't have to work at the ass crack of dawn y'know?" yuta raises a brow at you with a small grin and you tuck some hair behind your ear bashfully, not forgetting to observe how jeonghan is stiff in his seat. as stiff as a slick bastard like him could get anyway because you could've missed the glare he shot you when he stands up and crosses the room to yuta. 

he pauses next to you, cold hand coming to rest on your arm, a possessive gesture explicit enough for yuta to muse over. "i didn't realize you came in here to declare war over my best associate, yuta, or i would've prepared harder."

the japanese businessman laughs wholeheartedly, "sorry, han, you know i can't help myself these days. it's getting harder to find familar faces in the industry these days, what with all the incompetence that's cropping up." he sighs then with a glance in your direction, "still mad you came to work for this asshole over me."

you chuckle, letting down your guard a little at the man's sincere comment. "what would've been the point of working at your company when you'd always be across the globe, vacationing in some fancy hotel every other week?" you question with a smile, "anyway, don't lose hope, maybe i'll change career paths mid-life, so don't delete my resume from your system just yet."

"all right, i'll take that as a promise," yuta winks at you as you take your leave from the office. 

an hour or so later, you're summoned to jeonghan's office again, with a brief, "y/n, please." you suppress the urge to roll your eyes, knowing there wasn't any real need for you to be in the room with them except for yoon jeonghan's egoistic need to fuck with your head. 

"how can i help you?" you ask with your sweetest business smile and jeonghan stands up from the sofa next to yuta. he gestures to the other man with a glint in his eye, "y/n, mr. nakamoto says he has the rest of the day to himself before he heads out. i thought it'd be a waste to just let him roam on his own, why don't you accompany him?"

you blink blankly at jeonghan, taken aback at his thoughtless request. treating you like just another associate who worked under him was one thing, but treating you like his personal assistant who'd entertain his friends' whims was entirely another. 

and you know he realizes this because of how closely he's watching you, lips set in a lilt because he loves seeing his stupid little scenarios play out. yuta stands up when he senses the tension, "ah, don't bother y/n, han. i'm sure she has a lot of work to do. i'll just–"

"no, no, i insist," jeonghan pushes, only glancing at the man he was so earnestly trying to please. "you don't mind, do you, y/n?"

you inhale, sensing the challenge behind his words. the way he said it, it was almost inappropriate for work, the smirk and the way his eyes were all over you. but honestly, you hated his guts for trying to get you down like this. so if a challenge was what he wanted, then that'd be exactly what he was going to get. 

"not at all!" you start, a cheerful beam on your face that catches both men off their guards and you continue, "please, i was hoping for some time to catch up with mr. nakamoto– sorry, with yuta, anyway, so honestly, thank you, mr. yoon. i'll just go grab my stuff and meet you in the lobby?"

"oh– okay, sure thing," yuta mutters, glancing between you and jeonghan uneasily. you don't spare your boss another look as you leave his office and furiously pack your things into your purse, slinging it over your arm. "i won't be back today, seulgi, so don't text me unless everyone starts dropping dead while i'm gone."

–

"so you don't show up at work all day and then you ignore all my calls? i am your boss, y/n, you can't just blow me off whenever you please," jeonghan's voice is muffled on the other side, and you're guessing he's in his car, on the way back to his place. 

you, on the other hand, had been home for nearly three hours now after your little date with yuta, the man who'd walked around the city with your for a few hours before taking you out to a late lunch slash early dinner at the nicest place you'd been to in a while. so yes, you were in a good mood and honestly, hearing how mad jeonghan is on the line only makes you smile more. 

"oh, sorry, i didn't realize you were bipolar like that," you say in a pleased voice, "because last i remember you basically begged me to babysit your client for you."

"client?" jeonghan scoffs,  "you make it sound like you weren't sleeping with that guy for almost five years before i came along."

"well, i'm sleeping with you now and you don't hear me calling you anything but my boss to anyone."

"you're a real piece of work sometimes, aren't you?" the man snaps and then after a solemn pause, "what did you do with him all day, anyway?"

you chuckle softly, "can't disclose private matters like that i'm afraid. besides, i'm having real trouble understanding why you sound pissed at me when all i was doing was following your instructions."

"huh, that's funny, you want to get rewarded for running around with another man while i was banging my head at the wall all day today? don't ever try to pull shit like this again or–"

"or what, jeonghan? you're gonna fire me?" you ask, "how about you stop treating me like i'm the dirt on your shoe as soon as you're done using me for sex? i'm not your personal assistant that you can just order around to wet your friends' cocks whenever you fucking want, okay? or i'll be the one considering yuta's offer seriously." 

before jeonghan can have a chance to respond, you hang up on him, breathing deeply to calm yourself down. you take in your apartment, somewhat of an abandoned mess with all the nights you'd spend at jeonghan's. you felt guilty for own behavior, ignoring your own needs for so long that you'd forgotten what being respected really felt like. maybe what you needed was a real relationship.

–

"that's always been your problem, y/n," rina groans, "you always forget that there's men other than the ones you work with."

"ouch! you make it sound like i've only ever fucked my coworkers–"

"worse, your bosses–"

"okay, so it happened like twice! you're forgetting all the wholesome moments i had in high school," you warn her across the table with a fork. 

"you mean how you rejected any decent guy with genuine feelings for you in favor of chasing older men who didn't know your name?"

"i'll have you know i chased those old men because they were the ones who could get me the job i have today, so i won't apologize for doing what i had to do to have the career i wanted."

rina sighs, "that's not the problem. you could've networked with the people working in the industry and had a healthy relationship with someone your age. but you always got so emotionally attached to anyone who offered you advice that you didn't have time for anything else."

you stare at your coffee dejectedly, swallowing the hard truths your oldest friend was hurling at you. cruel as she was, you knew she wasn't going to sugarcoat things for you, not when you dragged her all the way across town on a saturday to have lunch with you when she had a million other things lined up with her upcoming wedding.

"i don't know how you do it, rina," you mumble, "you've a stable job, a beautiful home, and a doting fiance. god, that's like three worlds apart from the dump of a reality i live in."

"okay, now that's just untrue, y/n," rina scolds you softly, shaking her head, "plus, you have the first two things on that list."

"i have a job, but my place is far from home. i don't even sleep in it most days, plus, i think the last factor on the list kinda trumps everything else by a lot."

"well, who is that on anyway? it's not like you're undesirable or fucked up, you know?"

you groan, "what should i do, rina?"

"find someone who doesn't work the same 100 hour work week as you might be a start? maybe then you can stop treating your boss like a god."

"rina, you don't understand," you complain, "i know i make it sound too good to believe, but he's the smoothest talker you'll ever see and god, don't even get me started on how good he is in bed–"

"y/n, it's not the man's dick that matters, it's his heart," rina interrupts and when she doesn't burst out laughing like you do, you stop with a questioning look. "i'm serious, dude, you're not gonna be in it for the sex like 10 years down the line when everything hurts, inside and out. trust me, the minute you meet even a remotely normal man with reasonable expectations from life, you'll know what i mean–"

"that's the problem–" you start to explain your own beliefs when a head in your periphery catches your eye. "fuck me," you groan immediately when you realize who's sitting about two tables away from you.

"come on, y/n, i just talked to you about this, you can't be thinking about–"

"no, no, listen, don't look right now, but…" you trail off in disbelief and then force yourself to finish, "but my fucking boss is sitting to our left."

"you mean the fucking boss… you're… fucking?"

"yeah, that one…"

a few beats pass as rina slowly takes a look at the man across from you, hair down from the low ponytail it usually found itself in. at the perfect timing, jeonghan laughs at something the lady across from him says, hair bouncing to reveal his flawless features. 

"wow, he looks like nothing like you've described him as–"

"what, i've been going on for hours about–"

"about his charm, not how drop-dead gorgeous he is! i've been imagining some greasy old douche, not this tall glass of water…"

"first of all, your lack of trust in my taste in men is truly offensive… and–"

rina interrupts you, for the nth time in every conversation that you've ever had with her. "–it's worth mentioning that your taste in men is walking toward us as we speak–" 

"what…" you look up all too suddenly to find the man a few steps away, sly smirk in place as he approached you. 

"hello there, ladies," he starts in a low amused smile and god, if you could strangle him or yourself into silence just there you would've but instead you match his smile. 

"oh– hi, mr. yoon, i didn't expect to run into you here," you laugh it off with a pointed look at him, hoping he'd have the common decency to fuck off when you were clearly with a friend on one of your only days off. 

but you should know better because jeonghan will never give up a chance to open his mouth, especially in front of a stranger he hasn't had the chance to charm yet. 

"and neither did i! but here i am, with my lovely coworker and her…" his eyes dance over to rina who flushes under his gaze by the slightest, "gorgeous friend?"

you roll your eyes at the question and don't think it worth mentioning, especially when you're too busy choking yourself over his description of you as a 'coworker'. yeah, right. 

"right, we were just–"

"talking about the guy who's interested in y/n!" rina chimes in, her grin saying she thinks she's helping you but you kick her under the table, warning her to cut it off. 

"what–"

"huh, what's that again?" jeonghan asks, smile momentarily faltering at rina's comment. 

"ah, you know, y/n's just been so popular with guys since i've known her but she's never had time to settle down. but this guy's just been dying to meet her and when she called me to lunch today, i thought she'd finally be ready to meet the man of her dreams."

"the man of my dreams?" you choke yet again over a strangled laugh, "rina, you're really funny. you know i have nothing of that sort–"

"oh, come on," rina brushes you off with a scrunch of her nose and turning to jeonghan who seemed immersed in the bullshit your best friend was spewing. "she's just too shy to talk about it but– she told me, too drunk off her ass to remember, she'd only want to marry a man who was desperately head over heels for her, gives up everything to be with her, just to see her smile–"

"rina, i think–"

"and oh, what was it that you said? he needs to be able to think what i think before i've thought it? i'm not even looking at him if he doesn't worship the ground i walk on?? wow, y/n, you were full of it back then, weren't you?"

you redden, out of words at this point, half-mad she was yapping and half-mad at yourself for actually having said all the shit she was yapping. yes, god knows you did say everything she was saying, and there was a blurry video on your phone proving it somewhere. rina'd known you wouldn't believe a word without proof, so she'd recorded it without you realizing.

jeonghan's looking at you when you look up from your lap and rina cuts in again, "but you can't be to blame, now, can you? your parents always treated you like a princess, and your brother basically acted like your bodyguard until you moved out… i'd be full of myself too if i grew up like that."

you inhale deeply as you glare at rina, slowly standing up, "um, i think we should go soon or we'll miss the movie. right, rina?" you force your words out so rina can recognize you're not kidding. 

"y/n, can i talk–"

"sorry," you cut jeonghan off, too, head reeling too hard to respond to anything that man's got to say to you, "i really have to rush but if it's something urgent, why don't you just leave a voicemail? i'll get to it on monday."

"ooooh, that was hot," rina whispers into your shoulder as the two of you pay the bill and head out. "god, did i love torturing the two of you in there. and honestly, serves him good–"

"what the fuck was that?"

"what the fuck was what? i was just showing that bastard what you actually deserve," rina snaps, eyes wide, "you might not remember what you're made of, y/n, but i do and i'm not gonna watch as you let that asshole use you. he can realize what your standards are or he can find someone else to fuck with. not my best friend."

"...rina," you stop in your tracks, rina's words finally starting to make sense in retrospect, "you're—"

"okay, please don't get emotional on me, i have a movie to catch and you know i can't focus if i'm tired."

– 

that very night, you come out of the shower to your phone blowing up, stifling a smile when you see jeonghan's name plastered over your notifications. after a thought to it, you pick up.

"what?" you take on your most indifferent tone.

"wow, that's cold," jeonghan's voice is clear this time. he's at home. "you can really be a stranger sometimes, baby."

"it's not hard, i just pretend i'm you at work," you tell him with a petty smile he can't see but most definitely hears because he immediately scoffs.

"listen, i didn't call to fight you, okay? i just want to talk. i–" he stops abruptly as if out of breath and then, softly, "i'm sorry."

that's a first. 

"i didn't quite catch that, mind repeating what exactly you're sorry for?"

you hear his sigh loud and clear, "y/n, let me make it up to you. i'm sorry i've been an asshole to you, especially at work. won't you come over?"

"no, i won't. i have some beauty sleep to catch up on."

"then, i'll come over. but please, let me in. and i don't mean into your place, i mean into your mind. i know you want a grandiose dream man but i can't read your mind just yet, so just let me… let me understand you better." after a beat of silence, he punctuates his words with a "please?"

"...you know where i live?"

"wasn't born yesterday, princess. give me 10 and i'll be there. make sure you're wearing clothes."

he hangs up on you and you barely have a moment to yourself to calm your intense hearbeat and equally chaotic thoughts after what jeonghan just said. i can't read your mind just yet. just yet? did he intend to??? intend to what, become to man of your dreams???? 

as much as you internally cringe at the thought, your cheeks are flushed when you let jeonghan that night, watching carefully as he took his shoes off, wearing a strangely casual grey hoodie and sweatpants. somehow you'd only ever seen him in his suit. or without it. 

he looks at you for a moment too long, and then his hand comes to carress your hair gently, "hmm, never seen you with your wet hair down."

"what do you want, jeonghan?" you cross your arms.

"you know sometimes i think i prefer you call me mr. yoon over jeonghan. you sound like you're going to kill me in my sleep when you say jeonghan."

"or i could just kick you out of my apartment. my landlord takes break-ins very seriously."

"alright, alright," jeonghan backs off, keeping his hands to himself, "can i at least have some water first? nervous to be all alone in your place with you."

you narrow your eyes at him and when he just shrugs, you gestures to the kitchen. "you can figure out how to pour yourself, can't you?"

"y/n, i–" he takes a gulp of the water, and then sighs, "i want to take you out. like a proper boyfriend."

"that's crazy because unfortunately, i don't have any time to be going out with anyone right now."

"if you're going to lie about your work committments, maybe don't do it to my face? our schedules are basically married so i know exactly when you're free."

"oh, i see what's happening," you throw yourself on your couch with a mirthless laugh, "you're blackmailing me into dating you, aren't you? don't worry i won't go around spilling the tea about your kinks in bed if you just leave me alone, mr. yoon."

"okay i lied, it's infinitely worse when you call me that. how about just calling your sweet angel, han, huh? no, okay? listen, y/n, i'm serious. i want to be more than your toxic boss who you have mindblowing sex with."

"you are–"

"i'm not saying this for any of the ulterior motives you're trying so hard to think of. believe it or not, i'm into you, y/n, and when you left me hanging for like three days straight, i couldn't stop thinking of you. and well, i did miss the sex, but what i missed more than anything was hanging out with you. spending time with you." 

"...what if i'm not into you like that?" you ask with a quirked brow, not quite satisfied with the case he was presenting. he stood still across from you at your kitchen counter, breathing shallow though you weren't certain why.

"that would be fair but i'm asking you to give us a chance because i know i've never had a connection with someone like i do with you. our stupid banter, your witty ways to save my life at work and outside before i can anticipate them, and of course, our amazing chemistry in bed– y/n, i never will find something like this again. and you can say i'm full of myself, but neither will you."

if you were slowly starting to doubt that it really was yoon jeonghan in front of you confessing his love to you, you don't anymore when he adds that last arrogant part in. "you're awfully confident for someone who was blowing my phone up an hour ago," you tell him, looking away, "but honestly, jeonghan, i'm getting old, okay? i don't think i have time to play your games anymore. i'm gonna find myself a decent man and settle—"

"you hearing yourself? you're gonna settle?" jeonghan's crosses over to you, sitting on your coffee table and before you can tell him off, he takes both of your hands in his with the tenderness of a man that you've never seen him capable of being. "i know i'm not the most promising prospect of a boyfriend, let alone a husband, but i'm willing to change. not even change, i'm just going to stop pretending to be a little bitch to you at work because honestly it was killing but i was doing it to protect myself from getting too attached to you. but it's too late. i'm down bad for you, y/n."

"and i may not be the decent man you're looking for, but i can assure i love you more than anyone on the market. because i know you like nobody else can, and i'm going to stick by you no matter what."

you take a breath and hold it just to test if you're dreaming but then jeonghan drops his head into your hand, letting your fingers into his soft hair. "just give me a chance, y/n. i'm… nothing without you." his voice is small now, his charming self who showed up to rooms full of busy people to give them a pitch of their life long gone. he was just a man right now, pleading you to let him in so you could both have a real shot at loving each other. 

you pull your hands out of jeonghan's clutch, watching his expression turn into one of panic but you silence him by bringing them to his face, gingerly guiding his eyes to yours. he blinks back, pure and solemn. "where was this guy when i was begging to be held for the past week?" you wonder, half to yourself, "and before you apologize, it's okay. i… haven't been a saint myself. it was unfair to not give you the short end of the stick when i'd given you the impression it was all good and fine until now."

"but you have to know how little i feel when you treat me without respect at work– not just because you're my boss, but because i care about what you think of me… as a person. i want to be with you, to love you. so if you can be real with me like this, i think we can make it work."

jeonghan kisses your hand softly, "i'm sorry. i– i will do better. and just to be sure, that was a yes?"

"yes."

"yes, you'll be my girlfriend, my one and only lover, the apple of my eye, the prettiest sight since the moon was revealed?"

"...yes. and flattery is not one the list of real qualties," you tell him despite the blush that colors you. 

"really? it's a good thing that i meant every single thing i just said then, isn't it?" he leans closer, breath hot against your already hot face. "can i kiss you then, love?"

the new nickname only makes you more dazed and you nod with a mewl, meeting jeonghan's lips halfway. he kisses you like he's never before — without a hint of urgency, like he could kiss you for the rest of his life and not regret a moment. he's slow and intentful, eyes fluttering and breath heavy, almost like his heart was wreaking as much of a havoc as yours was in your chest. 

you press a hand to his chest, reassured by the heat of beat that meets you, and he pulls away in surprise at your motion. jeonghan's flushed and speechless like he's never been, just watching you through his lashes, out of breath. 

you look down at his body, taking in his tall figure cramped in the little space between the two of you. his legs cage yours on either side, knees meeting your thighs, and his arms resting gently on your waist. it's like his body's swallowing you whole, and thought heats you up in a way that has you tearing up. 

when you hide your face in your hands out of the blue, jeonghan's large hands find yours, cooing them away. "what's wrong?"

"overwhelmed…" you tell him in a tiny voice, "i've– you never… you've never been so gentle with me. i feel like i'm going to break."

"that's ironic, isn't it," he asks softly but not mockingly. "you're so precious, i can't believe i haven't done this sooner. i guess i was always in such a hurry to feel your skin before time ran out… before it was too late… or something? either way, i'm here to stay now so let's take it slow."

"so you'll kiss me like that again?" you ask, looking at your intertwined hands. he squeezes back. 

"you liked that? let me see your lips again, i'm never not doing that again."

you giggle at his enthusiastic reaction, his lips already a breath away from yours, feeling your sounds in his whole being like he'd been starved. he kisses you again, not letting go till you pull away with a gasp. "god, i need air, han, you'll kill me at this rate."

jeonghan's too busy peppering your skin with more kisses, "good, you're back to calling me han. and as for needing air, we'll just have to do that a lot so you can build up a stamina."

—

"love it when you do that, god–" jeonghan's all over his own words, trying to get them out as soon fast as possible, "can you say it again? i'm gonna record it–" 

"han," you warn him in a stiff voice, "tell me you didn't just walk out of a meeting to come ask me to say– i'm not saying it, okay? so let go of my hand before seulgi comes back and you'll still have a reputation around here."

"no, you can't do this to me, babe," he's whining now and it'd be great for your ego if you couldn't see the room full of people waiting for him to get back so he could continue the meeting. "just tell me what you told rina about the dates i take you on and then i'll be out of your hair."

"first of all, you were never supposed to hear any of that," you push jeonghan away when he protests dangerously close to your face, "and second, if you want to have a girlfriend at the end of the day, you're gonna walk away from my desk and go back to your doing your job. okay, han? i can't do this now, let's talk at night."

"...fine. if you agree to sleep over at mine."

"done. now go."

"and you'll hold hands when we walk–"

"go."

he turns around obediently not before throwing a flying kiss in your direction and you truly have to wonder how he ever managed to act so uptight with you at work when he can be hopeless like this. 

"i'll have you know," he whines that night when you're coddling him in his bed, "that i'm that hopeless only because i'm head over heels for you. i love you, love, and i can't stop loving you, even if a bunch of suited assholes want to find ways to keep me apart from you."

"a bunch of suited assholes is your job description, angel," you laugh into his chest, "and god, you need to stop doing that at work. at least find a room if you want to be all up in my personal space, okay?"

"reserve a room just so we can make out? hmm, not a bad idea—"

"that is the exact opposite of what i was suggesting–"

"and yet here i am, with the great idea in my brain. noted, princess likes risky sex at work. thrill of getting caught? or is–"

"when did making out turn into risky sex?"

"you know i can never stop at just that once i've started," he says, kissing your forehead and you hit his face softly. "liar. big words from someone who refused to do anything but kiss me all night last night, and the night before that, and what about the time we went to dinner that time? oh, right, you didn't even kiss me."

"are you mad i'm being mindful of my pace?" jeonghan asks with a half smile, seriously concerned when you bring it up.

"no, i'm just shocked at the change up from when all you could think about was where and how we were gonna fuck."

"well, be assured that i still think about fucking you anywhere and everywhere at all times, but i'm more than that man now. i've got boyfriend worries now, 'kay? i want to savor every single thing we do, every date i take you on, and every small adorable thing you do. i'm not doing it the casual way. it's either all or nothing."

"you're scary when you're in love," you marvel with a sweet smile, "but full disclosure on my part, han, but i kind of need you to fuck my mind out because i'm literally dying here."

jeonghan goes still, pulling away to look at your face, amazed at the filth you could spawn with the purest smile on your lips. when he catches the glint of desperation in your eye though, he's switching control immediately, over to the jeonghan he'd managed to suppress so expertly to focus on treating you right. 

"damn it, you're gonna be the death of me, looking at me like that–" he's on top of you in a split second, his hair brushing the nape of your neck where he dives into your skin. "wasn't gonna ruin you again till i really had to, but fucking hell, woman, you know how to work a guy up."

"i can tell," you murmur, hands roaming all over his body, finding the hard bulge in his boxers all to familiar. "had to provoke you, y'know my fingers aren't enough."

jeonghan lets out an ungodly sound at your words, and you revel in the way he's coming undone, the way you've managed to push all the wrong buttons. to be fair, was it really wrong if it drove jeonghan to give you the best head he'd ever given you? 

when he rises from between your legs, you kiss him hard, tasting yourself on his tongue, and stealing his breath when you push him over so you could straddle him. "let me return the favor?" you lick your lips to really seal the deal.

"you–" he groans when you don't wait to pull his boner out of its restraints, smiling ever so demurely like he'd presented you with new clothes or a ticket to your favorite show. when you take a lick at his tip, he twitches, hands in your hair forcing you away from his dick. 

"--can't–" he's hardly comprehensible but he manages to get his request out, "can't take it for much longer. need to be inside you."

"thought you'd never ask, hannie," you gasp innocently and jeonghan swears he's already seeing stars from the nickname you only pull out on the verge of your orgasms. he's spewing all sorts of obscenities when you sheath him in your warm pussy, and you make sure you take in the sight before you. 

jeonghan's glittering with sweat, lips wonderfully swollen and eyes rolled back in his head with the height of pleasure he was feeling. he looked like an angel, even when he was so fucked out, chest deliciously hard against your touch and his voice contrastingly in its sweet chorus of your name. he was doing much of the work even though you were riding him, long fingers trailing from your boobs to clasp your waist so he could have perfect control of your body.

when he's close, he swallows a whine and you clench around him just to rip the sound out of his throat, the moan halfway between a scream and a song to your ears. that alone brings you close with jeonghan's thumb at your clit really bringing you to the edge. 

"come for me, hannie," you elicit another heavenly sound from him, "please, let me feel you inside me." 

"i'm coming, y/n, fuck!" he bites his own tongue and then gives up when you keep going, "fuck, fuck, fuck, i'm going to– fuckk–"

you both fall over with the wave of pleasure that hits your bodies, elevated ever more when each of you feels the others heat. it takes a minute of panting for you to feel your heartbeat in your chest and see jeonghan's limp body under yours. you roll over so your back can hit the cold sheets. 

you genuinely black out a little from the exhaustion because when you come to, jeonghan's between your legs with a warm towel cleaning you up. he looks up when you sit up with an unspeakable look in his eyes. he crawls over, voice hoarse as his lips meets yours. "i think you just changed my life, y/n, that was amazing."

"it was, i think i was on another planet for a hot minute there…" you say, oddly nervous with jeonghan's body touching yours as if you hadn't been all over each other a second ago. 

"you were… unbelievable. i've never been that gone before, y'know? you might've broken me… all that after i promised to be nothing but a gentleman to you." jeonghan sighs a little with a shake of his head.

"sorry, angel," you run a hand through his hair, feeling him relax under your touch, "i was pent up, what from fighting with you and then suddenly becoming all lovey dovey. for what it's worth, i think we just upped fucking game. and it's probably because we aren't lying to each other anymore."

"probably because you're all mine now," he says victoriosly, kissing your hand like he did the night he'd come to your place to beg you to take a shot at a life with him. you're so glad you did because you couldn't imagine another place where you'd feel this way, completely like yourself and nothing like yourself. 

"always have been," you assure him as you press a kiss to the back of his neck, throwing your hands around his shoulders. you liked to hug him to sleep, like you'd always yearned to every time you unwittingly fell asleep next to him. he shifts closer so your legs touch and you feel his lips graze your wrist lovingly, pressing kisses to the warm skin till you'd drifted into a deep sleep.

NOTE:

still not sane about that instagram update from jeonghan because those images of him have me feeling like this: 🤭🧍‍♀️😧🌀🥵😇🖐️🫦🙁 if you know what i mean. i will be crying about it for the next few days till i can think straight so that's that!

honest to god, somebody restrain me from writing and thinking about this man because i’m genuinely unwell about him. genuinely this is a cry for help. i told myself i wasn't going to write another jeonghan fic (see: the 50 wips i have waiting that involve not jeonghan) but here i am. speedwrote this in less than 2 days and took 2 hours to select the header icons and they still suck. self-indulgent content as always but anyway, i think i will die thinking about yoon jeonghan so here's my small contribution to anyone else who feels anything similar to me. i hope you enjoy and please i love hearing your thoughts so any reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[thethronezone]

Hello!

I enjoy your Primarchs and their children so much. However, an idea pops up and I wonder what do you think of them with pet? What kind of pet each will have and how they raise them?

Thanks!

Mortarion gets his kid a turtle. Quiet, relatively small, won't run away. They live long, which means Mortarion won't have to worry about his kid breaking out in tears because their pet died from old age any time this century. Actually does quite intensive research on different turtle species to make sure his kid gets a good pet. Gets them a tank for it and everything. (I don't know how but that turtle will somehow survive the Heresy).

Fulgrim spends a long time thinking about the perfect pet for his child before eventually he decides to settle for a classic; a cat. A very rare, ridiculously expensive breed. It's a good thing he gave it to his kid because had that cat belonged to Fulgrim then he would have treated it like an accessory, I'm sorry but that's the truth. His kid don't give a shit about what breed it is, they name is something silly like Stinkus ("Because they stinky!") and Fulgrim has to live with that.

Have you seen that artwork with gladiator Angron sitting next to a dog? Yeah, I love the idea that Angron likes dogs so, with that in mind, I think he would give his kid a dog. A wardog, of course, bred for combat. Still just a pup though. Practically shoves the puppy in the kid's arms. "This is your responsibility now". He acts like this is only a lesson on responsibility but he just wants his kid to be happy, ok? Has to look away whenever he sees his kid play with the dog because if he doesn't then everyone will see the soft expression on his face.

Magnus gifts his kid a Gyrinx, a cat-like xeno animal that forms strong bonds with their owner and enhances their psyker powers. Like this, the pet is not just a trusted companion but also helps them focus their growing psychic abilities. Does urge his child to be kind and gentle with the animal, they may not be sentient but they are still a living being with feelings. Also advices his kid to read up on Gyrinx and learn more about the species, so they can better take care of them.

If his kid is going to have a pet, then Perturabo demands it to be something useful. That's why he ends up giving his kid a falcon. Or, well, the 30k equivalent of a falcon. It's a bird of prey that they will train to hunt and fetch things. Perturabo honestly sees it less as a pet and more of a tool. Probably names the bird for them because he does not trust that they will chose a proper name. The bird is named Aegis or Talon or something basic like that.

After some careful thinking, Alpharius and Omegon gives their kid some kind of... chinchilla? Squirrel? It's a xeno animal, small enough that a child can hold in their hands, covered in fine fur and it has ridiculously big ears. It also has razor sharp teeth and its saliva is poisonous. Their kid is fine though, they have the antidote in case they get bit. See it as practice! Be nice and get the animal to like you and you have a cute pet! Be crueal and neglectful and you'll get mauled by small teeth. A very valuable lesson.

Lorgar gives his child a bird, something similar to a dove. Small, only the size of a baseline's palm, and with soft coos that sound like bells. He thinks it's a good pet that will teach them to be gentle and careful with those smaller than them. Then, as his child grow older and more responsible, he gifts them more birds until eventually, they have a whole flock. What? His kid deserves all the birds in the world.

Of course Horus gets his kid a dog. Then another one. And one more. His reasoning? What kid does not like dogs? Kid ends up with 5 dogs that follows them EVERYWHERE. They sleep in the kid's bed, follow them to their lessons, eat by the table etc.. They are truly inseparable and the kid honestly spends more time with their dogs than they do with people. Horus then has the gall to act surprised when his kid tells him they like dogs more than humans. Like, geez Horus, how do you think this happened?

At first, Konrad didn't even consider giving his kid a pet but then he heard them say they felt lonely (they don't have any friends) and so he decided to get them an animal. So he gives them a rat. Just a random rat he found. It's small and easy to replace if something happens to it. Didn't really expect his kid to grow so attached to it. It can do tricks now? It responds to the name 'Haunter'? What?

Contrary to what some of you might think, Sanguinius does NOT get his kid a bird. No, Sanguinius gets them a cat. A real fluffy one that needs to be brushed daily. Unlike Fulgrim, he does not really care about what breed it is, as long as it is healthy and will live a long life. Instills in his kid the importance of being gentle with animals (and people) and to treat them with respect. Is he teaching his kid empathy using a cat? Yes, yes he is.

Ok, so look, Corvus decision to get his kid a pet happens spontaneously. He's away somewhere (mission, meeting, whatever) when suddenly he finds this tiny, jet-black kitten. When he gets close, it hisses and bats its paws at him and he just KNOWNS that his kid will love this thing. Awkwardly gives it to them, telling them to take good care of it. Secretly checks up on the cat, just to make sure his kid is taking care of it. Sneaks it treats and pets it when no one it watching.

Ferrus gets his kid an aquarium full of fish. But like, really, really weird fish, adapted to the extreme circumstances of other planets. I'm talking fish that make deep sea marine life look like guppies in comparison. There's also a couple of crustaceans in there. Mostly sees this as a way to teach is child how living beings adapt to different hardships and get stronger because of them.

Rogal thought long and hard about this. At first he thought the perfect pet would be an ant colony but then one of his brothers said that was a stupid idea so he scratched that idea. So he ends up giving them a bear cub instead. What? It can be tamed. And look, his kid already likes it. Though he still thinks his initial idea with the ant colony was the superior one.

Vulkan choses a lizard native to Nocturne. A dog-sized, sturdy thing, long living and quite pretty, with obsidian scales speckled with the occasional red. A very popular pet for children on Nocturne and he had several himself when he was young. Probably caught it himself and brought it back for his kid on their birthday. Take good care of it, child, these things lives up to a hundred-and-fifty!

Listen, Lion does not want to get his kid an animal. The only animals he know are the beasts that he fought in the forests of Caliban so he does not exactly like animals overall. But if he has to? If he really, REALLY has to get his child a pet? A bunny. Small, quiet and when they grow tired of it, then they can just cook and eat it. Perfect. Gets confused when he mentions eating the rabbit to his kid and they burst out crying. Like, he didn't say it was going to happen NOW. Lion, buddy, they are five years old and you just told them you were planning on eating their adorable little buddy, what did you THINK would happen?

Come on. We all know what animal Leman gives to his kid as a pet. That's right, a fenrisian wolf, still just a pup. Chose this one pup because it reminded him of his kid and he thought they would be the perfect match. Pretty much gives his kid free reign on how they train and nurture the pup though he does urge them to make it clear that they are the leader or else that wolf is gonna walk all over them once it grows up.

Jaghatai is a horse-guy, of course he gives his kid a horse. A young colt that recently lost its mother and needs someone to care for it. Perfect for his kid! When it gets older, they can ride it, and when they grow too large, they can run beside it, just like Jaghatai did when he was their age. Expects them to take good care of the horse but otherwise leaves them to it.

Roboute of course goes with the obvious choice, a dog. On his kid's birthday he hands them a puppy and tells them that this is a big responsibility and that they need to take care of and train this animal with the same dedication that he looks after the Ultramarines. He was being a bit overdramatic but when he sees his kid command the puppy to show off a new trick it learned with the same tone as a general commanding troops, he can't help but feel like he did a great thing.

[opiopal]

imagine mephisto with a really sweet mc, because I find it really really easy to write fluff about him for some reason

I mean like, he tries to keep up his act of hating humans-since he’s above them and all- but it’s just so hard to look at that lovely smiling face and say anything rude whatsoever, so he can’t help himself but force away a smile any and every time they interact with him, he’s better at hiding it then mams is, but not that good. in reality something in his chest flutters the first time Mc excitedly offers to help with the news paper club, mentioning that they have some experience with publishing, and of course Diavolo thinks it’s a wonderful idea! and again he tries to act annoyed as he shows them around and tells them how to use the printer and such, they work for maybe about an hour and a half together organizing and coming up with the head line, what to focus on, ect. and before mc leaves to go home they dig around in their bag and pull out a little box and offers it to them, he gives them a suspicious look before they giggle and smile(making his heart rattle in his chest) “don’t give me that look, it’s just a muffin,”

“ah, I see- and why are you holding it out to me?”

“because it’s for you! I was getting a few snacks this morning because I woke up early- and I figured I’d get something for you to! Just a little gift since you have to show me how to do stuff, I know it can be annoying,”

as they talk he hesitantly grabs it from them, their hands grazing for a moment. He takes a pause before he speaks up again,

“well, I wouldn’t necessarily say I find you annoy-“

a rabid knocking on the newspaper clubs door interrupts him and spooks Mc, since they had their back turned towards it. They turn their head and see Mams waving a little passive aggressively as he opens the door, a few of the brothers had stayed after to walk mc back home to the HOL.(and also bc luci was a little anxious abt mc being completely alone alone with mephisto, as if he would hurt them in the first place)

“yo mc! Let’s go we’re waitin!”

“ah, sorry, I’ll see you tomorrow,”

they give him a quick wave and speed walk out while quietly talking to Mammon about how he didn’t need to knock like a mad man, and of course mams is heard brushing them off casually. Mephisto stands there for a moment, holding the little white box in his hand as he carefully opens the lid. it’s nothing fancy, simply just a chocolate muffin with large chocolate chunks, since mc bought it with their own money he can only assume it was the best one they could afford, and the idea of it made his cheeks run hot.

and that’s not the first time mc had gifted him items, they give him small items often or treats, little packs of cookies or things like a keychain, or a little clay animal, and maybe even a bracelet that looks to have been made by them. and strangely to him, despite the fact that he’s surrounded by wealth and items that were worth more then continents, an ugly little glass cat that only could’ve costed a few cents feels a lot more valuable to him, just because they gave it to him.

[just-a-ghost00]

Bone yard confessions : what their d*ad *ss wanna tell you

Images from Pinterest. Deck used : Arcana Iris Sacra. For each group the spread consists of a total of 6 cards. This reading can be used for any type of connection. Think of a person and find out their message.

Group 1

5 of swords, 3 of swords, knight of wands, 8 of pentacles, knight of pentacles, page of pentacles

They wish to confess the reason they act silly is because they’re scared. Scared of being intimate, of being hurt again. Of being used for what they have instead of being loved for who they are. They want to confess they acted like a fool. They’re aware they’ve lost an important connection by being cold to you and they regret it deeply. They want to confess they entertained other people while you were away. And that’s the reason why you broke up for some of you. If not, I get the message of a person being sorry for not letting you in and pushing you away. They’re saying they want to take their time getting to know you and building this connection one step at a time. For some I’m getting the message of a person trying to study to be able to make the connection progress. They want to confess they regret hurting you and taking you for granted. Now you’re gone they realize they had something valuable that they failed to see. They’re sorry they didn’t take you seriously. They wish to apologize for their immature behavior. They wish that you would wait for them.

Group 2

Ace of cups, The Fool, 6 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, the Empress, 8 of pentacles

This person has recently realized their feelings for you. They may have considered you a friend before but you did or said something that really touched their heart and tipped the scales in your favor. Now they can only think about you. I feel for a lot of you this person is at a distance from you. They miss you a lot. It is painful to them. They want to confess that they want to give your connection a try. That they wish to shower you with love and gifts. They want to tell you that they find you incredibly attractive and that they are willing to work hard in order for your connection to be fruitful. This person has no hesitation as to how they feel about you. They know that they want you and that they care about you deeply. They wish to be fair to you and take things slow. To find a comfortable rythm where you can get to know each other while remaining free to change your mind if you wished. This person doesn’t want to scare you by urging you to pick them. They want to give you the time and space you need to figure them out. They want to confess that they wish they’ll be able to meet you again if they were to travel to where you are.

Group 3

Ace of wands, Chariot, 8 of swords, 2 of wands, The Fool, Death

This person’s energy feels more urging. This person doesn’t want to wait anymore than they already have. They want you whole. They want to rush to your place and conquer you asap because they fear someone else will do so. This person feels like you turned your back on them and are trying to move on. They don’t want you to put an end to the connection without giving them a chance to prove you wrong. They feel very passionately towards you. Yes, they are emotionally closed off most of the time but that doesn’t mean they don’t feel anything is what they want to tell you. They feel like they’re stuck because their access to you is blocked. Either there are many people dissuading them from reaching out to you or you blocked them. This person feels like they have to compete for your attention and they are triggered by that. They think that you don’t care about them as much as they do. They hope for a second chance with you, an opportunity to kill every negative thought you might have of them.

[peace-hunter]

ok so i'm still a bit shaky on it but i would loooooove for orion's character arc in the baby prime orion au to be actually about learning that he's not. inherently special. which i know it sounds backwards because this au makes him primus' specialest little guy but hear me out.

in this au when optimus is born he is his siblings' miracle child, their little blessing, the most precious gift they could've gotten.

they love him so much that even when they die and orion grows up and forgets them, he still knows what being treasured and loved beyond measure feels like.

and part of the reason he believes that the system is wrong to treat cogless bots as lesser is that he cannot accept that he is as worthless as the world wants him to believe when someone once loved him like that.

it's a very... self-centered point of view even if it does come from a place of genuine love. he was loved, he was worth something to someone once, so if the world tells him he's worthless then the world must simply be wrong.

and don't get me wrong he still genuinely does believe others also deserve the choice to decide for themselves what they want to be, that they also deserve to be treated with the same respect and dignity that cogged bots do, he still wants to make things better for everyone.

but a good part of it is because he thinks he deserves better. because he knows he was once loved enough for someone to want to give him the moon and stars if he'd asked for them. and he's still chasing that feeling, even though he has long forgotten where he got it from in the first place.

so when he finds out he's the lost little prime, as much of a shock as it is, it is also sort of vindicating. it's a little bit like "oh. so that's why i always felt especial different".

he thinks that him being a prime is the reason for why he always aspired to be more, for why he always believed he deserved better. he thinks being a prime is what makes him worth loving more than he'd been told.

except that... well, he's obviously wrong. him believing he deserved better, that he was worth more than the system wanted him to believe, had very little to do with him being a prime and everything to do with his siblings loving him so very much he could never forget it even as he forgot them.

the reason he always felt there was something utterly wrong with the way they were treated and had the courage to constantly speak up against it when everyone else around him didn't was not because he had some divinely given wisdom or that he was inherently better than them and could feel it.

it was simply that he, unlike the rest of the miners, had someone to instill in him how loved and valuable he truly was. he had someone to let him know he deserved to be treated with kindness and dignity. he had that privilege even if it was taken away from him.

so. the second half of his arc would be him realizing all of this and taking upon himself to be that someone to everyone else. to be to others what his siblings were to him. that gentle voice that says "you deserve to be cared for, you deserve kindness, you deserve better".

i don't know i'm still working on it akjshdjka

[kairiscorner]

MILES MORALES 42 (girlfriend day headcanons !)

he wouldn't have acted like anything big was coming up whenever you'd remind him from time to time that girlfriend day was coming up, but internally, he was freaking out because he wanted to make that day memorable and worthwhile for you.

he'd act dismissive about it, but to be honest, he just wants to hear what you want to happen on that day coming from you.

the only one who knows how miles is really acting is ganke, who keeps trying to remind him to chill out, you'd like anything he gives you, but miles can't even listen to ganke right now because he's contemplating on what kind of date, gift, and message to give you would make you remember and want to keep remembering this day for the rest of your life.

his mom was able to provide better insight and suggested to miles that he get you something that reminded him of you, and honestly... everything reminds miles of you. he wanted to get you something new, but his mother told him gifting you something really valuable to him already would mean so much more.

so, when he met you for dinner, he gifted you something that not only reminded him of you, but was something he truly cherished. it was a small figurine of a character he really liked, and yes–go ahead, laugh at him a little about how cute he actually is–and, why did it remind him of you? well, because you both bring him comfort; he used to look up to that character a lot as a young boy, and now, he looks up to you for inspiration.

though the night didn't end there, because when you guys were heading home, miles took you to a detour through an alley you guys had never visited before. turns out, the reason he never took you to that alley was because he had planned this surprise for you for a long while now, a whole year, actually.

he made a whole wall full of graffiti, with all the faces, smiles, colors and words reminding him and looking a lot like you. this wall was your wall, you were his muse.

"um..." he struggled to find the right words as he scratched at the side of his head and fidgeted with the end of his right braid as he looked at you with a nervous face. his face was completely bashful and flustered, and he cleared his throat as he finally decided to just say what comes to mind. "...i wanna dedicate this whole wall to you." he said as he directed your eyes with his hand that pointed to the wall filled to the brim with caricatures and drawings that appeared like you and was reminiscent of your aesthetic.

he felt so embarrassed that he couldn't fully articulate just how important you were to him, how happy and whole you made him feel, so he instead placed his arms around your waist and put his chin on your shoulder as he whispered a, "gracias, mi cielo... for being mine. i swear, you won't regret letting me love you, and this whole thing, this whole wall... it's only a taste of just how much i want to color my whole world with you and all of you."

tags !! @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @pixqlsin @zalayni @q2ie @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @maxoloqy @luvstarrstruck @fiannee @anikaluv @solecitoszn

[winterfleursblog]

𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

☆ Pairing: Nanami x Fem!reader

☆ Genre: Fluff

☆ Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, very slight swearing. Reader was a student of Jujutsu High.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒐 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆, 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒅

Nanami as your Schoolmate

You two met in the 2nd year of Jujutsu high, and it was literally at a vending machine. That day, he was in a really bad mood, and so he was kicking the machine 'cause it won't drop his drink.

"Goddamn it! This shit isn't working" he exclaimed, and you witnessed all of these quietly. It might be weird, but you actually found him cute while sulking. Even though he looked like that one weird emo classmate you'd definitely avoid, you tapped his shoulder to give him a drink.

He was shocked when he felt your hand tap his shoulder, and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks out of embarrassment. All he could say was "thanks" before you left the scene.

Ever since that moment, you two met in the library, at the convenience store, and almost everywhere you go. It seemed weird how he is offline whenever your online game buddy is offline. You also caught him one time in the library playing your favorite game, but were too shy to approach him 'cause it seemed like he was hiding from the librarian.

One day, you saw each other in the library, and mustered up the courage to ask him, "Hey...are you user SilentAnhilator?"

This was probably the riskiest and most embarrassing thing you've ever done in your life—asking someone you're not close with and at the same time, outing yourself as a gamer.

You expected him to give you a sour look, however, you were met with a blushing teenage Nanami which you still find cute whenever you remember it.

"I....Yes"

You became friends after that incident.

The trio formed (you, Nanami, and Haibara) always went on missions together, where Nanami would remain silent. Of course, he isn't safe from your teasing and Haibara's jokes no matter where you go.

Nanami as your boyfriend

He confessed to you after a year of being colleagues. He realized that the reason he gets awkward around you is not because you were former classmates, but because he liked you.

He decided to confess his feelings after seeing you in the infirmary, heavily injured from a mission.

"Are you okay? Do you need meds? Can you stand? Please, answer me."

That was the first time you ever saw Nanami cry. You asked him why he was so worked up to the point of shedding tears, it's just a stab and a few broken bones—nothing that Shoko can't fix.

"I'll tell you why when...the time is right." He brushed that question off, but your heart was beating fast, hoping that it was more than a friend's concern.

A week later when you were fully recovered, he asked you out for dinner. There, he formally confessed his feelings like a mature man would.

"Y/n, I hope you don't feel uncomfortable, it's just that I have something to confess."

That moment, you could hear your heart beating fast.

"I like you, romantically, as a lover. At first, I didn't know why I felt nervous around you and why... my knees get weak when I see you. I thought I just saw you as a dear friend and a valuable colleague but as time passed, I started seeing you in my dreams and I could tell that it already was beyond platonic..."

You remained silent, still taken aback by his words, face flushed in red.

"...I'm sorry if this is so sudden, but can I date you? I promise to properly court you, and I definitely take relationships seriously."

Seeing you flustered and speechless, he thought he was making you uncomfortable. But in fact, you were just taking time to process your 10-year crush's confession.

"I-I'm sorry, I made my dear friend uncomfortable. I understand if you don't feel the sam—"

"I like you too" was all you could say before hugging him tightly. Immediately, he reciprocated the action by hugging back.

Since that night, he started courting you by giving gifts, talking sweetly, and doing affectionate acts of service. Of course, he remained very respectful. In fact, your first kiss happened only after 3 months of dating.

He is very good in handling his alcohol, and so he always goes with you to office parties (which is always with Jujutsu High teachers).

* f/n=your first name

(He knew that you still had a hangover from the way you typed. Right after getting on the car, he continued to tease you about drunk-flirting with him on your way to Jujutsu High.)

Nanami as your husband

Please read my previous fics to see how he proposed to you 🙏🏻

He is definitely a caring husband who wants nothing but to live a peaceful life with you.

When you two married, you immediately moved to your house in Kuantan, Malaysia. That house was planned for and built for 2 years (through mutual efforts)

Now both retired from being sorcerers, he works a simple job at a bakery down the street while you pursue your dream of being a lawyer.

Since you both decided to live a simple life, he used his savings for the past 10 years in funding your daily expenses (he still earns a constant sum from his humble job at the bakery).

One day, you got sick and he had just finished his shift at the bakery.

Notes: I love him so much I'm so delusional but I don't think I could ever find a man like him.

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (10)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 5.6k

—  Warnings: Violence, drugs, murder, mafia shit, hurt/comfort, controlling relationships, implied spousal abuse,

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(105 days before, Yoongi)

Yoongi slides the new phone out of the case gently, undoing the packaging with a loud crinkle.

He’s set up on the kitchen table in the cottage. It’s morning and the coffee is half gone in the pot and fresh rings on the wood, chipped at the side. The tv left on just to keep the silence from grating. The first thing he does with the new phone is take off the back, fussing with the screws before he pops off the metal membrane. It takes a bit of force. Clatters to the floor in the process.

Yoongi leans over, taking in the dust bunnies under the table. Fingers skimming the gouges on the floor. Gouges he hadn’t noticed before. Who knows what they’re from. There are filled bullet holes in the bathroom, tiles that are shattered at one edge. If there has been violence here. It’s been plugged over with wood filler and spackle.

Yoongi picks it up and returns to the task at hand.  

It’s not just a new model, it’s the newest model. If it’s bugged, there’s nothing immediately concerning about it in the wiring behind the backing. It doesn’t heat up too fast or have any suspicious battery discharge. He lets it charge and go to empty before he pops the sim card home.

You can never be too sure.

He’d found it conveniently dropped off at his front door with a thank you not from the Ahn family after yesterday’s evening round of text messages had gone unanswered. The pathway and driveway shoveled from snow too. The first snow of the season makes the city fall to almost a standstill. But he’s glad to spend the morning uncalled on at the cottage, even if the silence makes Yoongi uncomfortable, so use to the thrum and puppy pell mell of the pack tumbling all over each other in the morning. Unused to being able to hear the slight prick of snow falling outside and the damp dullness of winter without a hand to hold.

He busies himself with cleaning up and making little changes around the house. Happy to have something for his hands to do and ease his mind. Like fixing a squeaky door and righting one of the cabinets that have sagged, making it flush with all the others.

How the family figured out his phone was sabotaged; Yoongi has no idea.

The phone is just another bribe in a long list of them, his house is littered with other similar gifts. Most lay unattended in the doorway. A thick breasted coat from Burberry, a pair of Testoni shoes, a shotgun sitting by the door, the barrel already full of bullets tied with a bow. He’d also gotten a kilo of cocaine, bricked up already, but that he’d barely paused before flushing that down the toilet.

This phone came with a gentle invitation for dinner. Another one that cannot be skipped. He’s booked and busy for the next few weeks. Yoongi opens the phone unsurprised to find it littered with no fewer than 400 contacts, meticulously labeled, Every single eligible alpha for succession, the heads of house and their wives and husbands.

The Ahns oldest and head of house is favorited, already added as Yoongi’s emergency contact. Yoongi scoffs. At least he knows who to put on do not disturb.

But there is one contact, down there near the very bottom. Yoongi clicks it.

Yoongi thinks there’s a lot of reasons why he’s still thinking about you now, even days later, maybe it’s because there’s finally someone here like him, someone who doesn’t revel in the bloodshed or find satisfaction in the law breaking and mayhem that the family causes behind closed doors. Maybe it’s the draw of survival, of having someone nearby who’s as fucked over as he is.

It’s just because she’s pretty, and you can’t resist a project. A voice that sounds like Seokjin’s teasing whispers in his ear. As if, Yoongi replies, because daydreams are as close to the pack that he gets these days. It will take more than a pretty girl to tempt me. He says, mentally, conveying his response to Seokjin. Precisely 216.1 miles away.

He’s going a little bit crazy; can you get withdrawal symptoms from people? How has it already been two weeks since he held them? Since he touched them? The pack. Yoongi feels their absence like a dull ache, the touch-starved-ness turning his skin sensitive and the thoughts in his mind loud without another person to talk too. Is Yoongi losing his voice? Or is he just losing his mind cooped up here?

Maybe it’s because you’ve left your scarf here. The one you used to tie up your hair. Right now, it hangs on the other chair.

Yoongi does not know what to do with it. He leaves it in the kitchen, put it in the pocket of his coat to give you then next time he sees you- but then he might lose it. He puts it on his bedside table, hangs it from the doorknob. He spends a lot of time, more time than he realizes, looking at it while he eats, while he drinks, while he contemplates reaching out to the pack to let them know that he’s alright, that he’s alive. To at least let them know that he’s not coming back- at least not any time soon.

Yoongi wonders if they’ll even want him back after all of this, or if leaving without saying anything will be too much of a betrayal to stomach.

It’s a good thing that the cities snowed in today, otherwise Yoongi might be tempted to accept the Ahns invitation just to quiet his thoughts. He can use the weather as an excuse, more suitable than his disinterest. He spends his morning dodging requests for meetings formal and informal. Turning down casual invites unwanted however polite they might be. Yoongi takes this as a moment of reprieve, a free day and evening.

The snow keeps falling. Covering his driveway in one inch, two, then three.  

In the meantime, Yoongi explores the cottage, taking note of everything that needs to be fixed. It’s better than wallowing.

It’s a bit of a surprise that the last beta and the late Don turned the safe house into something of a love nest. There’s still an ‘I love you’ sticky note stuck to the yellow fridge and more notes left in the junk drawer. And it makes a discomfort rise in his chest so thick. He takes the note off the fridge and puts it in a small side drawer full of rubber bands so that he doesn’t have to look at it.

It’s one of the things that makes him pick up his phone and text- not anyone from his pack (that’s too risky). But you.

Maybe you’re doomed, but that doesn’t mean that Yoongi can’t try and make it a little bit better. He types out his message after staring at your contact for a few minutes. Hitting send before he can consider if self-preservation is a virtue or a fault. 

--- (11:12am): Let me know if you want to go out again somewhere you probably know the city better than me at this point and I’d love to see it again.

It’s pitiful. Absolutely pitiful. A flimsy excuse at best. But maybe removing you from your husband’s presence for just a few hours will make a difference. Yoongi’s fucked but maybe you aren’t quite yet. You remind Yoongi of himself just before he left. So uncomfortable and alone. Obviously so ill-suited for this life.

His text remains unanswered, but that's okay. He didn’t expect you to get back to him right away.

He fixes the burner on the stove that hasn’t lit in years and locates a screw gun and some screws for more of the cabinets. Witling away the hours with hard work and his hands.

Yoongi decides he does actually like the cottage. Likes it- because its honestly been years and years since he’s lived in anything close to a house and not an apartment. Sure, the doorways are drafty and it’s not pretty on the outside but there is a certain peace in shuffling to and fro at the little coffee station, in sitting in the old chair in the corner or sitting at the small two-person table to eat his shitty take out.

Without anyone to cook for, Yoongi finds he’s lost his taste for it.

It’s hard to want to cook, when Seokjin’s not there with a bit of witty banter to cut the loneliness, and the pups aren’t there to beg for slices of carrot or nibbles of chicken. When Hoseok’s not there to fuck with the playlist and Namjoon’s not sitting nearby reading. Keeping a close eye on the movements of the pack. Always watching from the corner of his eye. A presence both protective and watchful.

It’s hard not to daydream about the pack, and harder still not to give into the temptation to think about them. Yoongi fingers the rotten edge of a window picking out old spray foam insultation and daydreams about maybe getting a house for them one day, big enough for all of them.

Fucking Christ, it’s only been two weeks.

He thinks that the rest of the pack would like it. They wouldn’t even have to get a new house because Yoongi would love to learn how to fix it up himself. He’s always been the handyman of their pack, how hard can it really be? Yoongi is already used to replacing faucets and fixing strips of floor that Jungkook accidently breaks when he drops his dumbbells. He’s extended the legs of every one of Tae's bookshelves (and Tae has a lot of bookshelves). Everything else can’t be that hard, right? 

Yoongi would never say it, but he likes being helpful. Feeling useful. He likes the affectionate looks he gets from Seokjin and Namjoon when he fixes the leaky faucet for the third time that month. The short pets to his hair or the pecks to his cheek in reward are reminiscent of early happy times when their shitty apartment’s maintenance men couldn’t be trusted not to say anything around Seokjin. When everything felt too dangerous, and their little box felt like the only safe corner of the world. Their own corner of the universe, an ecosystem too delicate to alter.

If he owned this house and wanted to stay in this city- he’d add on a second story and change out the striped wallpaper. He’d fix the cabinets in the kitchen and take off the shutters outside and refinish them. Maybe he’d add on a small addition out front too. They wouldn’t have to be big rooms maybe just a small writing room and library for Tae. He’d cut out the old rotten windows and add more to look out onto the garden because Hoseok’s always complaining about the lack of natural light in their apartment. He could add sunrooms and skylights and re-do the squeaky floorboards. He thinks the wood is pine, Namjoon would know.

He contemplates calling his alpha, his heart giving a pang of grief before he thinks better of it and leaves his phone on the small table. Before he panics and realizes, his number, and all the packs, disappeared when his phone got destroyed. They don’t have his number anymore, and he doesn’t have theirs. Yoongi checks the contacts but- there not there. His knuckles go white, gripping the phone so hard.

He doesn’t even have a fucking picture. The whole pack has social media but-

Maybe it’s safer this way. The temptation is removed. And Yoongi has no one.

Grief consumes him for a moment as he flops on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. When he closes his eyes, he can almost smell the scent of the pack on the air. Can almost imagine it in vivid detail. Maybe if Yoongi closes his eyes and wishes hard enough, he’ll open them back up and they’ll all be there, he’ll be at the apartment again. And all of this, his whole life and most of his adolescences, will just disappear.

His hands tighten in the sheets, and it’s like they’re here with him. Curled up close in this queen bed, too small for the seven of them. They’d have to press close to fit. Two people would have to lie on top.

Most of this visit has been too stressful for him to even think of them. But now he aches and aches and aches, like grief is a plant that’s taken home in his chest, prying open his ribs with its greedy roots. Searching for enough motivation to damn the consequences to hell and just reach out- 

No. Yoongi cannot. No. Even if it hurts him- he cannot put them in harm’s way.

How many days had he taken their easy affection for granted? How many kisses had he let slip by uncounted? He’d die just to hear Jin’s laugh again. Yoongi’s body burns with the need for his packmates. Burns a little as he blinks back a stinging in his eyes that has nothing to do with the dusty interior of the cottage.

He sighs out a heavy breath, thinking of a future. An impossible one. The 7 of Them, pups maybe, in a house somewhere that Yoongi could build with his own two hands. He imagines a life without any of this. Without any hidden documents or covert meetings. Without any fancy clothes or blood money, without any body bags or secrets.

His dreams smell of innocence and soft cotton, sugar on the air and ice-cream before dinner.

But it’s a useless pursuit; the wishing. Yoongi cannot change where he is right now. He laughs at the ceiling, pipe dream smoking and sputtering out. It echoes in the empty house, dark with no one to flicker the light on as night descends. Shooting stars die out in the vastness of space, wishes make no difference.  

Getting his pack back again, owning his own house, and having the money to re-do it is something that’s completely out of reach. Yoongi has no money without the family, Yoongi has no real career either. Surviving this unscathed, is a dream so very far away.

Yoongi puts his odds at being able to leave this at 50%, maybe 60% if he’s lucky. Maybe he’ll get a cool scar out of it. Maybe he’ll get one like Geumjae. But that only brings up bad ideas in his head, because there is one person whose odds of getting out of this unharmed are next to nothing at best. In the single digits if he looks on the bright side of things.

His eyes stray, looking at that damn silk scarf.

It moves, from kitchen to the doorknob, from the bathroom hung out, pressed clean. Heaped and red. He’d taken extra care to press it. He can’t remember the last time he actually tried to use an iron, but he’d removed most of the wrinkles without letting the silk burn.

What a funny thing doom is; it’s as close to a string of fate as people like you can get. Your destruction, your fates are mutually assured. Yoongi is doomed to a life at the next Don’s side, and you are doomed to a life next to your husband.

If Geumjae has his way, both of you will be inexorably tied together for eternity. You’re both fucked.

He wonders what you’re doing right now. The only person in the gang who’s as trapped as he is. The only person who’s like him. Maybe you’re looking up at the ceiling of your bedroom like he is and hoping for a different world and better odds. He wonders if you’re wishing too. What you do like best for your wishes? First stars, eyelashes, or dandelions?

Your bedroom has to be nicer than his, he knows the family brownstone is something out of a museum.

Geumjae inherited their families’ wealth when their parents died as well as their childhood home (if you could even call it that.) Geumjae got it all, its fine crown molding, copper ceilings from the gilded age and similarly golden. The house is large even if it is a brownstone technically, it practically takes up half a city block. Yoongi wonders if you’ve discovered the servants quarters upstairs, what their parents had turned into a playroom and a saferoom- one staircase in and one staircase out. All the hidden passageways.

He wonders what Geumjae has done to the house in his absence. If he’s renovated it into some mockery of modernity with galvanized steel and dark peined windows. The house that you’re no doubt trapped in just like Yoongi was growing up. 

Sometimes Yoongi’s daydreams get so vivid it’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t.

The idea of a beta wanting a house and a place to stay is a ridiculous dream, and yet- Yoongi dreams it anyway. He dreams of navy-blue rooms with delicate floral wallpaper and floor-to-ceiling windows and skylights so big that he could watch the snowfall through the world.

He dreams that that he’s lying there, beneath the skylight. Dozing in his bed, half asleep. He dreams he’s somewhere else. Stretched out on some large fur white as the snow and shaggy soft against his fingertips. There’s someone next to him reclining nude just like he is. Bare beneath a stolen stretch of powder blue sky. Blue and white and flesh tone. The fur beneath them is warm, shields them both from the cold.

It's a very very good dream.

He blinks and the person curled up next to him changes with every flicker of his eyelids. One moment it’s Jimin, his blonde hair splayed out all pretty. The next Hoseok is pulling him in for sweet kisses, and then Jungkook lying belly down, eyes dark and glassy, looking at him like he does when the youngest gets all scent drunk and hazy. His smile boyish and lazy.

But then he keeps his eyes closed longer, aware of what he’s going to see when he opens them, that he won’t like it.

You are there stretched out on that carpet with him. Your eyes staring unblinking at him, so still. The white fur is wet, and when Yoongi looks, it’s no longer white but red. It’s not a fur at all, it’s just a pool of blood still warm.

Someone’s shot you between the eyes, and Yoongi feels the gun in his hands and tastes the powder on his teeth before he wakes from the nightmare with a start. 

He blinks back the wetness in his eyes and rubs furiously at them. The low winter sun has set outside already. Yoongi can see his breath in the air and when he walks to the windows, he finds the snow still falling. Hazy through the streetlights. He turns the heat on as high as he can make it. But it does nothing to thaw the icy feeling in his fingers.

When he looks down at his phone, he finds the notification there. It’s not a text at first, just a photo.

 They’re tarts? Or are they cakes? It’s hard to tell- they look sugary but sweet, dewy from some glaze and maybe crumbly. They look good, mouthwatering actually.

He remembers asking you the other night, just before you left. “What do you like to do anyway, plan parties? Shop? or is fancy jewelry and polite scheming your only hobby?”

Now he has his answer.

Mrs. Min (5:54 pm): Hope you’re staying warm. I’ve just made these, if you want to come over you can have some. You know where I’ll be.

Mrs. Min (5:54 pm): Geumjae’s not here. Won’t be back until late.

Yoongi forgets his gloves on the way out. Grabbing his jacket and leaving the cottage so quickly he forgets to lock up.

But he does not forget to put your scarf in his pocket this time.

~-~

Your and Geumjae’s house is just as Yoongi’s pictured it, a conflagration of old-time class and decadent furniture, touches here and there of on the nose modernity. Brocade and Kaws statues that must cost half a mil, expensive dark wood floors and fake plants in the corner.

If he looks too closely, he can still see hints of his parents. The downstairs powder room is still the same, styled in the same way that his mother decorated it when he was eight. The fancy sink is still the same one she imported from Italy. Apparently, cut from the same stone as statues of goddesses and gods. The marble imperfect- stained in places from lifetimes of use. The same coat rack that Yoongi’s father used sitting in the corner that holds only Geumjae’s collection of sharp Chanel coats.

The staff in the front room takes Yoongi’s jacket from him with a gentle, “Welcome back Mr.Min, it’s good to see you home.” Yoongi spends a few extra moments looking around as he changes into the house slippers provided for him. He doesn’t realize what he’s looking for until he doesn’t find it.

There is no evidence of you on the ground floor of the house, not a soft touch in the room that could hint that Geumjae even has a wife. Not even a hair tie on the marble floor. Not even a pair of shoes or coat by the door.

Yoongi’s jaw tenses. Teeth clenching behind his lips.

The staff here know better to be seen and not heard. They’re just finishing up their Wednesday cleaning. The whole house smells like ammonia and in places- bleach. The kitchen is a similar monster of modern touches and decadent tackiness. It’s fashioned in the Tuscan style, too much crown molding juxtaposed with clean edges and stainless steel. There is an industrial chefs kitchen in the back of the house for hosting family dinners. This one shows no sign of wear or use.

You are there at least, dressed more casually that Yoongi’s ever seen you and still- all your clothing is tight. A workout fit high at the neck and long at the wrists. The front of your dark shirt spotted with flour. The bruises on your face are healing, the makeup you wear is lighter. You don’t even need to use color corrector anymore. 

Someone must have taken out your stitches in the days since he’s seen you.

Yoongi takes one step into the kitchen, surely you must have heard him come in. But stops once the scent hits him.

Honey, delicate and sweet on the air assaults him, just like Jungkook’s scent.

Yoongi’s breath goes tight in his throat. You are wearing black oven mits to take the tray out of the oven. You raise your eyebrows at him in the doorway. Where Yoongi stands frozen like a statue.

“Are you alright?”

Yoongi steps closer, stumbling over the even floor. Hands hitting the counter. Eyes downturned at the pastries. “What are those?” he asks, the emotion makes his voice hushed. Rough. Maybe Yoongi really is losing his voice.

“Honey cakes.”

Yoongi blinks quick. Watching as you pop them out of the tray with a fork. Practiced. Like you’ve done it thousands of times. “They need to cool for a moment and then they get a honey drizzle, I’ve got the third batch in but-” Yoongi hears you speak through white noise, watching them, the steam rising on them from the baking tray. You don’t remark upon his silence. Everything is fine.

“After they cool, I’ve had tea set up in the drawing room.”

There are other things he should be saying, more conversation he should offer but instead, he’s looking at the honey cakes. They’re perfect little hexagons with delicately imprinted and honeycomb on top. They look so pretty, and they smell so good, but not better than they taste.

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t expect him to as he starts eating them, a cup of black coffee in a teacup for him too after he’d declined the tea.

Fuck- he misses them so bad. Coffee like Namjoon, honey like Jungkook, the cream in the tea set Seokjin and the sugar on the table Hoseok.

Your rain scent sparks, distressed.

“Yoongi-” you clink your glass on the saucer, and it makes you both flinch. “Are you okay?” Yoongi does not meditate his scent back into his salty chocolate. He knows he smells like a typhoon, but he just can’t help it. He lets it hurt because there is no avoiding his guilt and pain at this. He eats one, then another, horking it down like a man starved.

He is a man starved.

“I’ll be alright.”

He eats, and you let him go without asking again. 

You’ve never known a beta before, but you get the feeling that no matter your prior expectations. Yoongi will exceed them.

The food fills the place in him where love should be. Outside the window in the stately garden sits with not a leaf or branch out of place. You’re similarly perfect, except for a single strand of hair that escapes its careful confines. In another world, Yoongi might tug all of your hair free from its pins. let it hang around your face pretty and wild. In another world, you would sit on the same side of the table and not a coffee table apart.

Your socked feet lay folded to the side, crossed at the ankles, pressing into the red carpet.

“These are-” he swallows, breathing. “-Very very good. Where did you learn to bake?”

You shrug, “no one taught me, I sort of just picked it up. I like sweets so-”

“Sweet tooth then? Do you know how to make any real food?” You scowl, puffing up, nibbling on just one of your honey cakes, Yoongi has eaten three in the time it’s taken you to eat just half of one. It bothers him, for some reason. It bothers him a lot.

 You narrow your eyes at him. “I bet you don’t even know how to fold egg whites correctly.”

“I bet you let bacon burn.”

It feels good to tease each other, and Yoongi’s scent goes chocolatey, just a little bit. It cuts the melancholy. Yoongi reaches for another honey cake.

“Do you know how to bake then?”

“No, but me and my pack omega, we usually cook for everyone.” Your finger skims the edge of your China teacup. Yoongi can see the darkness of the tea through the side. Herbal, dark and pink.

“What’s it like- having pack? Having more than one-” You break off, looking in the direction of the doorway, as if you’re worried Geumjae will enter. If speaking his name will summon him. “Packmate.”

Yoongi swallows his cup of coffee, thinking. For many houses in the family, multi person packs are considered too dangerous. You can only bite one person with a mating mark, you can only bond your soul to one other person- not two or three or six in Yoongi’s case. Your world relies on the mating marks to limit liability. Everywhere else multi person packs are sort of the norm these days, with alpha’s outnumbering omega’s and all and Beta’s being so scarce. Housing prices are expensive and so is childcare. Resources go farther when shared.

The only houses that have a ruling head of house with more than one packmate is the Moon family and the Lucchese’s, and they keep both of their packs under wraps or abroad were distance promises safety.

It’s just another rule that Yoongi is exempt from.

“It’s very loud, but-” Yoongi hesitates, thinking about what Geumjae had said barely a few days ago, about ulterior motives and pretty women. Thinks about how wrong he is. Your questions are so innocent. Your eyes so hopeful and earnest.

“It’s very nice, having many people to love and love you. Makes it easier.”

“Makes it easier for you to move around and go from pack to pack, like you need too- you mean?”

Yoongi doesn’t fault you for your assumptions, he knows he’s probably the only beta in the country that has only one pack, so Yoongi does not scold you just shakes his head. “No, I only have one pack,” Yoongi swallows, “besides this one, and between you and me fuck the family. It’s just this and them for me. I don’t need anything else.”

You sip your tea. “They’re all male, aren’t they?” Yoongi sighs but nods. Homogenous packs are much more common than mixed primary gender packs, most of the time when a male alpha meets a female omega, or when a female alpha meets a male omega- they tend to stay just a pair like you and Geumjae.

There is a collection of purple roses on the tea tray, from Moonbyul’s house the other night (although they look suspiciously fresh for that).

“You’re a good cook you know, even if you don’t know how to cook bacon.” Yoongi teases you to distract from the discomfort of your questions. You flush, substantially plied. No one has complimented your cooking in a long time, and something that feels a bit too much like pleasure lodges it’s self in your throat. So instead you nudge the plate of honey cakes.

“Really Geumjae probably won’t have any of them, you should eat as many as you want, take some home if you like them so much.” You both watch golden hour fade to blue. It feels nice to sit like this, maybe it’s not interesting. But it’s the companionship that you’ve both been craving.

“I will.” Yoongi eats another. Crumbs on his cheeks.  

“You got a new phone.” You say idlily, looking up at him from under your lashes, thick and dark.

“I did.” He folds his hands Infront of him, looking at you, sort of grinning, sort of rueful. “Lost my other one.”

Yoongi collects things about you like a child might collect small pretty stones, you like to bake, you know how to make maybe fifty different pastries. Most of which you promise to show Yoongi.

“If beauty is currency, I wonder how you view cookies?” Yoongi parrots the words you said the other day. Hopefully you won’t know how they’ve stuck in his head (like the rest of you and the little moments you’ve shared. The crisscross of the back of your corset, the red scarf in his pocket in the entry way. Still not returned to you. Yoongi collects them like keepsakes, shoved into the back of his mind, where they can’t cause any damage)

You snort into your tea, parrying his words. “If baking is less important than cooking, I wonder why you’ve eaten six of my honey cakes.” Yoongi puts his cup down, empty.

“I’d like to do this again, if you have the time for it.”

Your expression goes serious and your teacup clings in its saucer. Your hands are shaking. “Geumjae won’t like it.”

Yoongi’s hand goes across the table. Squeezing your knuckles in his. You go quiet and he stares you in the eyes, his gaze soft. This time you don’t glance away.

“Maybe we just won’t tell him.”

~-~

Yoongi stands in the doorway, and he knows it’s time to leave. Geumjae will be home in an hour and you have to make yourself presentable for dinner. This time Yoongi does not comment on that- your need to do your makeup.

Yoongi might like you- sticky cheeked from the honey cakes, a little better. You’re less unsteady. At least your cheeks seem more round now. Maybe he shouldn’t be suspicions of your thinness. Maybe he shouldn’t think things like that about practically strangers.

But you are not strangers, technically- you’re his family now. Through marriage and not by blood, not the same pack (so really it hardly matters) but family all the same.

Yoongi hesitates. “I’m sorry, for the other night, I should have been more careful to tie your corset back the same way that he tied it.”

You fail to meet Yoongi’s eyes. It’s the first time someone’s apologized to you in years, it feels so strange to hear it now, let alone from someone who looks so much like your husband.

“It’s okay, he-” Your eyes flash up to his. “He didn’t make it any worse than usual.”

“Make what worse?” he asks, but you dodge his question, helping him step into his jacket. Yoongi hovers in the doorway, waiting, prolonging his departure. Plunging his hands in his pocket. Feeling something silky smooth and cold to the touch. His eyes light up and he pulls your scarf out.

“You forgot this the other day.” Your hands hover on his, looking down it then up at him through your lashes. An indescribable expression on your face. “I would have brought it to dinner the other night, but I was worried about losing it.”

You pause, hesitating before you take it from him. Your fingers press against the pulse point at the inside of his wrist, beating steady and speeding up.

You smile. It’s the first time he’s seen you really smile, the kind that’s not fake and for the family, and his chest feels tight.

He can’t look away, won’t look away.

You tie it around his wrist like a bow. The same way he tied your corset shut. Your fingers are warm when they brush against the small but sensitive scent gland on the inside of his wrist. Chocolate blooms in the air, at odds with the honey. Yoongi breathes deep and doesn’t smell anything coming from you at all. No scent neither happy nor sad.

“There” you say, when the bow is pulled tight, letting his wrist go. Yoongi gently lowers it to his side. “Now you won’t lose it.”

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

-It’s absurd the amount that I think about these characters, like tell me why this whole time I think stuff like “yeah Yoongi is totally not the type of person to use punctuation in his text messages.”

- While editing the story this time around, I realized that having every one of the houses be Korean would not make much sense, especially with what I know about the American mob scene (more than you realize) I couldn’t just leave it alone. I have a list of all the families and their various business written out if anyone’s ever curious.

- Tbh I think Yoongi’s heart stopped a little when she tied the bow around his wrist. I think I’m doing a better job of making her a more sympathetic character.

[yuesya]

Aventurine drums his fingers restlessly upon the table.

It’s not the thrill or rush of getting ready to make another gamble, to take on another of the IPC’s deals. No, this is a very different sort of restlessness that he’s feeling right now –one that’s mixed with a distinct unease, almost. Aventurine wouldn’t say that he’s nervous, because he isn’t, but…

… But Aventurine is a realist who’s always acutely self-aware of his own worth. A worth that can only be measured in terms of what value he is able to provide to those around him.

Any relationships are weighed and calculated, always. Everyone makes use of others in some manner, but at the same time that you’re using others, you have to be prepared for being used in return. Because that’s the way things work in this world, isn’t it?

Assess one’s value, establish your own worth, then extend a hand in friendship. That’s the way to cultivate a healthy, cordial relationship.

Look at me. I can be useful to you.

“Aventurine?”

A smile curls over his lips at the sound of her voice, before her figure has even crossed into view. “Hello, Lyra. How have you been doing these days?”

“I was in your apartment last week,” the obtuse Halovian girl responds, once again failing to recognize and partake in the common ritual of social niceties that most people observe.

A faint hint of something more genuine enters Aventurine’s smile, even though he can’t help but be exasperated by her response. “… Do you realize how misleading that sounds?”

Lyra blinks, blue eyes wide and clueless. “But it’s the truth?”

Someone save this oblivious girl. And Aventurine too, preferably.

He lets out a light cough, “Well. At any rate –I’m here with a gift!”

With Lyra, it’s always better to be direct.

Aventurine reaches to his side and brings out the newly-acquired gift he’d brought for his friend. It’s something that had taken quite a bit of effort to get his hands on –a finely-crafted blade, rumored to have been forged using ores mined from Izumo, prior to the world being subsumed in IX’s shadow. Izumo had once been known for the quality of the blades born from their forges. It was impossible to get your hands on an authentic Izumo blade nowadays, though, so Aventurine had to compromise–

The restless sensation in his chest finally eases, when Lyra curiously draws the sword, and her eyes widen. Only slightly, but Aventurine is familiar enough with the girl to clearly see the hint of wonder and delight that she makes no effort to hide in front of him.

“This is an excellent blade.”

It had better be, considering the minor fortune that Aventurine spent on it. “I’m glad you’re happy with it! I thought it might be something that you’d like when I came across it.”

Lyra’s gaze flickers towards him, arching an eyebrow. “You ‘came across it?’”

Aventurine shrugs, doing his best to seem casual about things. So maybe he’d specifically searched for a weapon that would be worthy of her and spent no small amount of effort on the endeavor… but for some reason, with Lyra looking at him like this, he–

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the words blurt out from his mouth automatically, and Aventurine pauses at the strange feeling that her simple ‘thank you’ elicits in him.

… It’s normal to offer valuable presents to friends. Because that’s how you maintain friendships, right? Reaffirm and prove to them your own value?

So why does he–

“Thank you for the sword,” Lyra says, “And thank you for thinking of me. When you ‘came across it.’”

“Of course,” Aventurine murmurs. “We’re… friends, aren’t we?”

He glances up towards her. There’s no particular reason for it –it’s just a casual look in her direction– but in this moment, Aventurine suddenly sees it. The way her wings flutter slightly, the way the light overhead catches her eyes like jewels beneath the firelight–

The way that her lips curve faintly and he gets the impression that she smiles, just a little bit.

[marymary-diva17]

You will be amazing on day

zuko and mom reader

life had changed for you when you had married Prince ozai, for the sake and wellbeing of your family and village. As the duty of daughter and wife had been something you are balancing, that was until motherhood had came into the equation. Now your had become a lady of the nation and a soon to be mother, in the royal family. You had made a promise to love your children and care off them, along with teaching them well in hopes they didn’t become like their father.

zuko “ mom” you are feeding some turtle duck by yourself in one of the palaces, many gardens when you had heard someone calling you. As you soon looked up to see it zuko, he soon reached you.

y/n “ hello my son why has made you run away the way here”

zuko “ I wanted to show you the gift uncle iroh sent me” zuko soon showed you a earth king blade as he sat down next to you.

y/n “ wow this is amazing craftsmanship and the words are wonderful as well”

zuko “ It say never give up"

y/n " yes it those your uncle might have a good reason for you giving you that my boy"

zuko " yes mom ... umm mom what is your family like" you had gotten very quiet when you had heard zuko asking about your family, you never told zuko or azula about your family. As your husband and azulon hadn't allowed you to speak about them, or even allowed you to go see them as well.

y/n " ......."

zuko " mom are you okay"

y/n " I'm good hey hey don't you come feed the trutepl ducks with me"

zuko " okay mom" you ahd given zuko some of the bread and he was feeding the ducks.

zuko " mom do you ever think I will be gifted in fire bending like everyone else in the family.even you are gifted as well"

y/n " well yes one day you will be an amazing fire bender but it take many years to master, fire bending my boy you and you are good already I love the moves you do"

zuko " even if I fall on my but"

y/n " yes even if you fall on your butt" you soon brought zuko close to you making him laugh, and bring him into a warm embrace. Him and azula are you most valuable treasures.

y/n " you know you coming from a very long line of proud fire benders"

zuko " I do"

y/n " yes and one day you will be added to that list of amazing fire bender"

zuko " thank mom"

y/n " you are welcome"

zuko " mom when I get older and I will be the best prince you can be proud of"

y/n " oh zuko I'm already proud of you and all you have done now, and I know you will do many greta things when you are older"

zuko " will you be there when it happens"

y/n " yes I will but if I'm not there I will be there with you in spirt and heart, no matter where you go I will always love you"

zuko " yes mom"

y/n " if you want to run along and play with your sister and her friends you can, you don't have to stay here with me"

zuko " I rather stay here with you a bit longer mom"

y/n " okay you can and hey I will tell you some great stories of spirts, so you can learn about them as I know your uncle has been telling you enough"

zuko " yes mom I will love to hear more stories"

y/n " well that good to hear" you had sat with zuko feeding and watching the turtle ducks in the pond, as you had been telling zuko tales about spirts from all the nations. You knew zuko will be amazing one day but he will have to go through a long journey, in life and experience many things as well but one day he will be amazing. Deep down you are hoping the ozai doesn't try to control him, as you couldn't bare the thought of your kids becoming like their father when they could become their own person in the end. There was also the hope that you will be there to see the grown up, and see their future selves.

[strawberriemarswrites]

Hear me out headcanons for yandere doflamingo vs yandere sir crocodile with reader who managed to get both their attention

I may have just thought of a whole ass scenario surrounding this idea so bear with me.

Yan!Doflamingo vs Yan!Crocodile

Rating: M (gets a little spicy but no outright smut) Word count: 805

You work for Sir Crocodile as his secretary. You hadn’t expected to get the job but he clearly saw something in you that made him pick you among the other applicants.

It’s hard work but you do it well. He finds himself compelled to get you small gifts, claiming they’re just to show his appreciation for your hard work.

For some reason every time you meet someone you like and try to go on a date with them, there’s a last minute excuse as to why they suddenly can’t be there. You don’t talk about your personal life during work hours, so it never occurs to you that Sir Crocodile’s... intimidating all of your dates away.

Sir Crocodile finds himself in a unique position where he’s getting jealous very easily. He never considered himself the type, but something about you going out with anyone makes his blood boil. He chalks it up to you being a valuable asset that he doesn’t want getting distracted.

He starts keeping you a little closer at hand more and more frequently.

The only person who usually is consistently this close to his side is Miss All Sunday and even then he’s not usually putting his hand on her shoulder and keeping her at his side like he does to you.

Crocodile’s always been a little protective of you as one of his employees, though you never noticed it as a particular brand of protectiveness that only applies to you.

(He keeps insisting to himself it’s to protect a treasured employee, nothing more. He’s in a bit of denial, really.)

One day Crocodile brings you to a warlord meeting as like his stenographer, wanting you to take notes and write up the meeting minutes for him to review again later.

Crocodile sits to your left, keeping your chair as close to him as he could while maintaining a professional appearance.

You’re all business, pushing your reading glasses further up the bridge of your nose as you quietly notate. The first few minutes of the meeting go by smoothly.

Enter Doflamingo, strutting in late like he owns the place.

He was already planning on teasing Crocodile about how his little coup was going. But he didn’t expect Croccy to bring along a cute toy to play with! How fun.

He sits down on your right, and even you can’t ignore the sudden rise of tension in the room as he does so.

Especially since he decides that his chair needs to be even closer to you than Crocodile’s.

As the meeting goes on, you slowly relax, focusing on the task at hand.

That is until you feel a hand on your right thigh. It takes every ounce of energy you have not to let your breath hitch. 

Doffy’s always smirking, so no one else reacts when it gets just a hair wider as he continues carrying on the conversation at hand.

Except Crocodile. You can feel the rage rolling off of him so intensely your legs flinch, squeezing them together and pointing them toward your boss in the hopes that the other warlord will take the hint.

Doflamingo takes it as a challenge.

Your legs get pulled apart by invisible strings and he puts his hand right back where he had it, feeling you up under the table. All the while still participating in the meeting like nothing is going on.

Surprisingly, despite the growing fury on your left, Crocodile maintains his composure, all while silently planning Doflamingo’s demise.

Meanwhile Doflamingo’s thinking about how useful a toy like you would be. You’re behaving awfully well for someone who currently has a hand fondling ever closer to their crotch. Maybe he could convince you to leave the old man and join his family instead.

After the meeting finally ends you quickly excuse yourself to return to Crocodile’s ship before things get any worse.

Crocodile is close behind, his hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the halls of the military base. 

But not before he takes Doflamingo by the collar of his garish shirt and threatens if he ever thinks of touching what’s his ever again, he can expect to lose Dressrosa next.

Doffy’s not even fazed by the threat, smirking as always. Be it beyond him to let someone tell him he can’t have something, but he decides it’s better to let it go this time.

After all, when Crocodile’s plan inevitably fails and it puts you out of work, he can conveniently offer you a new job.

And then I had a couple just one-off thoughts that happen after this:

Reader just ever-so conveniently is kidnapped to work for Doflamingo as Croc is sent to Impel Down

and then is kidnapped back by Crocodile when Doffy ends up in Impel Down and Cross Guild starts lmao

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 105.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

karina was in her room, shifting her attention from the small succulent resting on her desk to the screen of her phone in a back-and-forth, confused, pensive manner.

she was surprised that the plant hadn't died yet and attributed much of it to the time it was in ningning's hands, because she didn't have the faintest idea how to take care of it beyond pouring water on it every now and then.

she knew that serim had given her a particularly easy-to-care-for type, but she still had to make sure what franky's needs were and she couldn't check them because she couldn't remember specifically which type of succulent she had in her possession.

she kept looking at pictures on the internet and comparing them to her plant to see which one looked more similar, but there were two types that could be the same thing and she wouldn't be able to tell because of her zero knowledge of gardening.

stress was growing in her body at not being able to identify the species in that pot, so in an impulse, frustrated, she grabbed it with one of her hands to lift it in the air, as if bringing it closer to the light something would change, as if it would be seen more clearly, the shape would take another silhouette.

she never noticed when her puppy, hiro, who was lying on the ground following her movements with his eyes, interpreted that swift gesture while holding something small as an invitation to play with her. the dog got up, standing on all fours and taking a hunting position, excitedly waiting for her to throw the object to run and catch it, but nothing happened.

jimin gave up, understanding that no matter how high she positioned the pot she would not get any sudden lucidity, that it would still look exactly the same. that's why she dropped her arm, surrendered, as if she had suddenly lost her strength, then put franky back on the table.

but the moment, almost with a thud due to the roughness with which she rested it, the plant touched the wood, it was keyed by hiro who flung it towards the floor, starting to hop around, focused on the now destroyed franky as if waiting for it to move to attack her.

"hiro!" karina exclaimed, in desperation, lunging towards the animal to gently nudge it with her forearm and push it away from the mess he had just made. "why did you do that? that's not a toy!" she couldn't suppress the exasperation she felt at that moment and found herself raising her voice angrily at her pet. "why do you always...!?" she began, still screaming, distraught, lifting the pot and trying to get the soil, and with it the plant, back inside, but she stopped her attempts almost instantly, dropping to the ground and covering her face with her palms, her words drowning in the crying that overtook her and prevented her from continuing to speak. "why do you always push namu away from me?"

sitting on the floor of her room she burst into complete tears, unable to hold it back any longer. hiro watched her with his head cocked to the side not understanding what had just happened. the gift serim had given her was scattered across the room without her having learned any valuable lesson from taking care of it, which was the reason she had received it for. maybe she could still save it, but she had no idea how to do it, and at that moment she didn't have the strength to look for solutions to the situation, she would probably do it in a few minutes, after her breakdown, now she could only lose herself in her bawling, still against her hands, feeling how hiro, who was unable to realize what he had done, put his head on his owner's leg trying to calm her down.

[starry-bi-sky]

Names, Marbles, and Fae-vors - More Lore on my Changeling Danny Au

In my last post I talked about the Infinite Realms and the three different planes existing inside it - the Long Far, Home to the Ancients and Celestial Beings. The Fey Wilds, Home of the Fey and other such Mythological Constructs. And the Ghost Zone, Home to the Mortal Spirits. - as well as three of the different ways beings inside the Infinite Realms can travel between planes; the Lake Portals, the Cave Tunnels, and the Starflare Currents. The Lake Portals and the Cave Tunnels don't have an official term for them yet, but I'll come up with something :).

In this post we'll be talking about some of the abilities of the fey! Specifically the things they're most popularly known for: their name stealing and etiquette thing.

For those who are not as well-versed in Fey Lore, or need a refresher, (and because I just want to yap infodump), one of the first rules you learn when interacting with the Fey is that you never, ever, say "thank you" or "I'm sorry" to them! Which is crazy, because they're really big on etiquette and being polite to each other, which is why one of their epithets is "the Good Neighbor/s". So why should you not say two phrases most commonly used when being polite to someone?

There are two big reasons for this, and the reason I'll be focusing on for this au is because, to the Fey, saying "Thank You" is acknowledgement of a debt that's owed to them. It turns the action or gift into something transactional, and results in a verbal contract that the receiver must then repay later down the line -- and whatever point in time, and with whatever the Fey they are indebted to sees fit. Whether that be food, valuables, or your firstborn child.

The other big reason is because some Fey just think it's rude, and view "thank you" as something that dilutes their act of kindness, and/or implies that they are there to serve you. One of the best summarizations I've seen for fey is that they're bros; they're doing this because they think you're friends -- or something similar to the sort. It's deeply insulting to do all these nice things for a friend, only for that friend to reveal that they don't view you the same way at all.

It's for similar reasons that you also shouldn't say, "I'm sorry" either, except instead of repaying a gift, you are now making reparations for a wrong you have done. A misdeed must be repaid in full, now how are you going to make it up to them? And also because well, I imagine that if saying "thank you" is seen as rude, "I'm sorry" is the exact same way because it dilutes the act.

If you're in a situation where you must say "thank you" or "i'm sorry" there are ways to get around it. "I'm grateful", "you're too kind", "I apologize", or "I feel regret" are just some examples I saw used.

NOW! How is this used in my Changeling AU? The Fey work by these same rules, the only difference is that I've added a physical aspect to it! If Fey are capable of stealing the abstract and turning the incorporeal corporeal, then lets run with it!

"Thank Yous" and "I'm Sorrys" are debts, and Fey can magically bound you into a verbal contract with that alone. However, it's not uncommon -- and actually pretty standard -- for Fey to weave the excess magic of that debt into something physical. They create these delicate-looking, iridescent threads that they then weave into their hair for decoration. And in some areas of the Fey Wilds, use it as a way to show off wealth and/or their own wit.

Ever heard of Fairy Hair? Yeah, same concept.

Debt Threads, as I am temporarily calling them, are thin and airy, and not that much thicker than gossamer. Since it's a debt that is intended to eventually be paid back, it's not practical -- nor is it seen as such -- to use the threads for anything more than temporary cosmetics. As a result, they're usually used for decorating the hair, but some crafty fey use their threads to decorate other appendages, or as form of makeup. Despite their dainty appearance, the threads are actually very sturdy and can only be unweaved by the Fey that created it.

You can, technically, take back your debt thread. However, the threads are made using excess magic of the debt, and not made of the magic of the debt itself, which is why it's so thin and airy. So if you do manage to get it, congrats! All you've got is some pretty string and a pissed off feyrie whose hair you probably just yanked out.

Danny's managed to accrue a few "debts" before he realizes he's a fey, mostly from his friends and sister -- although there are a few from his parents, and some from the other student body from when he was unknowingly and instinctually doing Fey Bullshit. As a result, he starts forcing Sam and Tucker and Jazz to stop thanking him for things, and typically makes them repay him through petty, menial stuff. Like getting him food, or buying him a small but relatively inexpensive trinket he's been eyeing for a while. Never usually anything super important - it's his own way of apologizing for indebting them to him in the first place.

As for his parents... well, he'll hold onto those debts for now. Having a way to magically get them off his back with no questions asked is a boon he's pretty willing to keep close to his chest, and no amount of persuasion will convince him otherwise. Sorry Jazz, Fey side wins out on this one. As for some of the students he's got, Danny manages to psych himself up and release some of them from their contracts without repayment -- even if it makes his bones itch.

AND NOW THE NAMES! You never give a Fey your name because they say everything literally. "Can I have your name?" is a literal question -- they are asking for your name, and thus ownership over you. The other thing is that Names have power, if a fey knows your Full Name they can make you do things for them -- however it goes both ways so you could do the same thing if you learn a Fey's name.

Knowing a Name and owning a Name are two different things, with owning a Name being, naturally, more dangerous as you are basically submitting yourself to permanent indentured servitude, among other things. Knowing a Name can be risky because it results in being more susceptible to fey charms, enchantments, and requests.

But! I digress! Just like how Thank Yous and I'm Sorrys can be turned into a physical object, so can Names! This is not obligatory, nor is it recommended to do often because unlike debt threads, these can be taken back, but it happens!

Names can be trapped in these little, colorful glass-like orbs -- marbles, they're marbles/pearls. They can be trapped in what are basically magic marbles, and just like debt threads, be used for decoration. They're more versatile though, and are used for different things since unlike debt threads, the pearls are meant to be permanent! They make beautiful jewelry, since the pearls come in various different colors depending on the person it once belonged to, and the intent behind its creation.

The marbles have a hard outer shell, with the cores having a fluid, shimmery appearance. Look up liquid core dice, and Name Marbles have a similar appearance, just more... ethereal, with different shades of the same color swirling inside. Not two pearls look the same, and even ones that have similar colors or appearances have subtle differences in them that are imperceptible to the mortal eye. Some pearls look like the deepest trenches of the ocean, blacks and dark blues swirling around each other as flecks of bioluminescence float inside. While others look like a lilac winter sunset, with hand-held purples bleeding into pink and gold.

Convincing Danny to return the Names he's gotten is harder than convincing him to absolve the debts. It takes a lot more psyching up on his part to actually do it, and more verbal coaxing and negotiating on his friends' part. Because on an instinctual fey level, those names are rightfully his. For all intents and purposes, he was given those names freely and without reservation, and so to be told that he has to return what were essentially gifts to him is... deeply distressing.

Lots of cognitive dissonance there. His human-raised brain and morals know why he needs to give them back, and he feels bad for owning them. But his new changeling-baby fey-brain is deeply upset at the prospect, and is a liittle bit stronger than the once-human part of him. He rapidly becomes overwhelmed when trying to convince himself to return the Names. He does, eventually, end up doing it, but he's unwillingly upset the whole time.

[protagaster]

Hello, all! My hyper-fixation and maladaptive daydreaming scenarios are currently centering around the fantastic EPIC! the Musical, created by the amazing Jorge Rivera-Herrans!

However, because I have a female main character bias, I tend to imagine the songs as if they were sung by my current best girl: Penelope.

Thankfully, two artists went ahead and drew this into reality: @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium. Inspired by their works of perfection, I have gone and wrote the first of many vignettes based around this Warrior Penelope AU!

There is also a version on Ao3, if you prefer that platform over Tumblr!

EDIT (10/7):

Hello all! I'm in the process of heavily editing this AU in order to have it:

A) Make more sense

B) Fit the timeline better

You'll notice some changes here and there in the story! Some of the content was cut, but don't worry! I'm gonna add it into a fic of its own in the future, so look out for that! ;)

(Credit to @w3ndytheraccoon for an excellent idea of theirs I included in this AU! You'll see it towards the end!)

A King with no Queen (EPIC! Swap AU)

Odysseus is trying to cope with many things. 

His failure forced his beloved Penelope to fight the Trojan war in his stead, leaving behind all she ever knew and what she thought herself to be. In turn, the King was left to run his kingdom and raise their daughter all by himself. 

This is how things have been for the past 12 years. And now, to make things even harder, the first of his suitors have made themselves at home in his palace…

~

Odysseus is a rare kind of man. 

In fact, it was not uncommon for the King of Ithaca to be compared to a single drachma coin. There seemed to be two completely opposing sides driving him:

On one end, Odysseus was the alluring, cunning, quick-witted man that achieved many impressive feats throughout his life. 

He was deemed ready and crowned King of Ithaca at the young age of 13, despite his father being very much alive. He passed her challenge and was gifted the guidance of the Goddess of Wisdom herself, something he very much boasted to all who would listen.

He even fell in love with a Princess of Sparta!

And, despite the warnings of those closest to him, she too fell in love and accepted his hand, regardless of how small and lacking his humble Ithaca was compared to the grandiose and luxurious Spartan kingdom. 

Yes, despite being relatively smaller and having considerably less strength when compared to his fellow Greek man, Odysseus was a warrior with an arguably more valuable and sought after prowess: a warrior of the mind. 

So why, even with these innate talents and gifts of intellect, was it not enough to keep him from harm during that first year of war? 

Why was it not enough to keep her, the only person whose life he desired more than his own, to have to pay for his hubris? 

That was where the other side of Odysseus’ drachma came into view, a side of despair. A side of longing. A side that waited… 

~

“Your Majesty…”

Eurylochus waited for a moment, staring at the king from the double-doors of his bedchamber balcony. 

… 

Nothing. 

“Odysseus…” Eurylochus tried again, if not for a response then hoping for at least some form of acknowledgment.

… 

Still nothing. 

Eurylochus was unsure of what to do. 

It was far too early for his liking; the sun was still in the oceans’ embrace, the sky a dark indigo with only a few streams of orange light penetrating its serenity. 

The day was only just beginning. Any other morning Eurylochus would most likely still be asleep, albeit prepared to wake once the early light illuminated his dark and lonely bedroom. 

However, this day was not like any other. 

And so, with great reluctance for more than one reason, Eurylochus woke early to fetch his king. One of his best friends. His brother. 

And this made him nervous. 

Not to wake the other, mind, as Odysseus always woke within the first instances of Helios’ light. 

No, Eurylochus was nervous because of what the day represented. 

And so, in an act that could have been either futile avoidance, petty rebellion, or a sad mix of both, Eurylochus allowed his brother to have this one moment of disassociation. 

Meanwhile, on the other end of the balcony, Odysseus continued to sit peacefully in his kline. He had chosen not to respond to the call of his name, despite knowing the urgency behind Eurylochus’ visit. 

Instead, Odysseus chose to stay true to his personal morning ritual: sitting in silence with morning’s first light.

He had honored this custom for more than a decade; he did not want today to be the one time he disturbed his routine, nor did he want to leave the comfort the balcony’s kline brought him. 

Every morning he sat in silence, waiting. Every morning he sat in his designated seat, the left side of the kline, soothed by what it represented. 

After all, it was Penelope’s very first contribution when brought to her new home. 

Odysseus remembered when the young couple had picked out the kline upon their first week of engagement, with Penelope first to declare that the right side belonged to her. Odysseus remembered laughing, saying that it made sense "considering she is always right". 

The kline was placed on the left side, on the farthest corner of their bedroom balcony. In this place the loveseat had a perfect view, with Ithaca’s beaches on one side and the villages of the common folk on the other. Penelope always loved this spot, for if she wanted she could see the sky kiss the ocean and embrace the beaches from above, or the hustle and bustle of her people, satisfied and content with their lives, down below. 

At first Odysseus did not understand why Penelope would subject herself to wake so early in the morning simply to gaze upon the rising sun. Now, only after she had been forcefully sent away, did he understand how something as simple as the day’s first light could bring an instance of happiness to an otherwise age of despair. 

And thus led to his daily ritual, one he has promised never interrupted no matter what.  

Every sunrise for the past 12 years, starting from the moment he woke, the King of Ithaca would spend a few minutes staring at the various views outside his bedroom balcony; it was never too long, but the minutes always lingered with a heavy sense of despair and longing.

...

How long has it been, Odysseus couldn’t help but wonder, since he last saw his wife lounging in their kline. When was the last time she beckoned him to join her with a wave of her delicate hand, appreciating the open air whilst the kingdom was in a state of silent calm and peace. 

Too long, Odysseus concluded to himself. 

“Ody…” 

Odysseus flinched, knowing the other only called him by that name when all other options failed. 

Finally turning to acknowledge his visitor, Odysseus saw Eurylochus leaning against the door frame. His best friend, his brother, was watching him with a sad look in his eyes. 

“It’s been 3 years,” Eurylochus' voice was sad, betraying the attempt of stoicism in his eyes. “They aren’t coming back-”

“You don’t know that.” Odysseus yelled out sternly. Unfortunately, he immediately regretted it when he saw Eurylochus let out a heavy sigh with his shoulders slumping in unison.  

“Eury… I-I’m sorry-” 

“It’s okay, Ody,” Eurylochus said with a smile that was not at all genuine. “I know.” 

Odysseus wanted to kick himself. After all, he and Eurylochus were stuck in the same horrible situation. 

Both men waited, longing for someone that was no longer by their side. Both men woke alone inside their isolated, dark, empty bedchambers, at one point naively unaware of how large a bed could be until that fateful day 12 years ago. 

Both men waited, longing for the return of their wives: Queen Penelope of Ithaca and her best friend and second in command, Princess Ctimene.  

It had been 13 years since the Trojan war officially began, a petty debate between the Gods leading to Helen’s abduction. Menelaus and Agamemnon drafted Helen’s suitors to help in her rescue, using Odysseus’ proposed oath to defend her husband against those who would dare to challenge him. 

Odysseus had tried to avoid this draft through various means, but each attempt ended unsuccessfully. He was required to fight in this war, forced to take with him only the best of his Ithacan warriors. He remembered his tearful goodbyes to Penelope and Telemachas, filled to the brim with sorrow at having to leave his beautiful wife and newly-born daughter. 

From then on, since he first set foot on Trojan soil and every subsequent battle thereafter, Odysseus would pray to the Gods to find a way to end his term in the war. Anything to return back to Ithaca as quickly as possible. 

The Gods were quick to grant his wish. 

That first year of war no one could have expected things to turn out as they did. 

The men had secretly infiltrated the Palace of Troy using various spies, successfully sneaking Helen out and tucking her aboard the first ship back to Greece. Unfortunately, the Trojans were quick to discover her disappearance. 

The Trojans took their revenge the next night. The Greek army, beyond ecstatic that their primary goal had been achieved, went to sleep that night with their bellies filled with meat and cups poured with more wine than water. 

None of them noticed the dead quiet of the nature surrounding them. 

The Trojans, with their own spies implanted in the Greek army, had found their hidden camps. Before the men of Greece realized it, they were too late. They were struck without mercy, the etiquettes of war no longer a priority.  

The Greeks, despite their night of festivities, put up one hell of a fight. The battle took hours, lasting from the darkness of night up until the early crack of dawn. 

The Trojans quickly retreated once early light hit. However, the damage was done.

In the struggle Menelaus and his closest brothers-in-arms were taken prisoner, held as a form of ransom. Odysseus was the only one in Menelaus' circle to avoid this capture, for Eurylochus and the rest of his Ithacan crew refused to allow the Trojans the glory of kidnapping their king whilst under their watch.

Though there were few deaths, the Greek men were maimed and damaged beyond repair. 

The lucky ones had escaped the confrontation with more scars and wounds littering their bodies, though they were the ones likely to return to combat after a short time of recovery. The unlucky ones, the majority of the men, had been struck deep in the flesh. Their injuries sustained left no meager scars or wounds, but permanent physical hindrances to their limbs and muscles. 

Odysseus was speared in his left shoulder. Though the gash had closed and relatively faded 12 years later, he could no longer maneuver his arm as easily as before. Without his weekly massages and leather brace, which he wore only when surrounded by those he trusted, he couldn’t even wield his bow as effortlessly as he once did. 

Eurylochus was sliced in his left eye, leaving him permanently blind from that view. He had also been struck in his leg, though it was not as severe as his previous injury and had already come to a full recovery.

Regardless, the state of the current Greek army was too grave to ignore. 

A few handfuls of the men, those deemed fit and well enough to continue combat, were left behind to hold down the front lines. The rest, consisting of practically their entire army, were sent back home to recover and sustain what little dignity they still had. 

Though he had been permanently damaged, Odysseus couldn’t help but see a small silver lining. Even if it wasn’t how he expected, the Gods had granted his wish. Now, he was able to stay by Penelope’s side and raise their daughter together. 

If only he had known then what he knew now. 

Even though the men could no longer partake in battle, Greece still needed an army. And of course, for the sake of their own petty interests, this is when the Gods intervened. 

Almost immediately after he had returned home, the God of War himself stood before them with his signature spear in hand. However, he was not there to speak with the King. 

He was there to make a demand of the Queen. 

Ares ordered his student, Penelope, and her unofficial sisters-in-arms, women trained in combat with the blessings of the God of War and Goddess of the Hunt, to fight in the war against Troy on his behalf. All of this was to “make up” with Hera, after first siding with the Trojans on Aphrodite’s request. 

Odysseus remembered how he pleaded, begging to return to the battlefield in his wife’s place. Pride and flesh be damned! 

Odysseus knew what Penelope’s life would look like in Troy, having experienced it himself for the past year. Even if she had sufficient knowledge in the art of combat, trained by her life as a Spartan and student of Ares, she was still a traditional woman who enjoyed traditional womanly activities. Fighting and killing in the name of the Gods as a woman had never been heard of before that point! 

And then there was Telemachas, their beautiful baby girl who was only a single year old. What would her life look like, growing up without her mother to guide her through the trials of womanhood? 

Unfortunately no amount of begging and pleading, nor the King’s friendship with Athena, could spare his wife of her mentor’s decree; neither could it spare the many other women trained in the art of defense. 

Within the next two month a portion of Ithaca’s women, those of age and combat experience, boarded the ships to war. 

The next 12 years consisted of a mixed flurry of emotions. 

Of those 12 years it took 9 before the war came to an end. Helen, once nothing more than a damsel in distress, proved her strength to everyone with her contribution to the war. After rescuing Menelaus and the other captive men, the royalty of Troy were killed off to the last drop of blood. Rumors circulated within the Greek world that Penelope had a great hand to play in their victory, but the specificities were never clarified. 

Eurylochus, along with the people of Ithaca, recalled the look of pure joy in their King’s eyes when the messenger gave them the news. Many thought their King’s happiness was due to his wife’s battle prowess being praised by all who could speak, but those closest to Odysseus knew the truth.

Odysseus was ecstatic that his wife was finally coming home. 

Penelope would once again be inside his arms! Her warmth, her voice, her scent, they all would no longer be reduced to a distant memory. The people of Ithaca would once again have their Queen, and Telemachas could finally meet and learn from the mother she had heard so many wonderful stories about. 

That’s how things should have been by now. And yet, 3 years after the war’s end, the wives and daughters of Ithaca had still not returned. 

Many held out hope in the beginning, thinking that the womens’ delay was only a momentary setback. They believed it would not be much longer, that the women would return any day now. 

However, days turned into months. And those months quickly became years. 

With their hope dying alongside their wives and now presumed to now be widowers, the husbands and fathers of Ithaca reacted in very different ways. Many remarried, desperate to once again have their homes filled with the comfort of a wife and care of a mother. The rest could not bear the thought of remarriage, taking up vows of celibacy in honor of their fallen wives and praying to the Gods that their love alone would be good enough for their children. 

The one thing they all had in common: they had lost hope of their wives ever returning to Ithaca. 

This was where Odysseus differed from them all. 

His people, Eurylochus, and now even Polites had tried telling him how likely it was that Penelope perished at sea. They reminded him that as the King of Ithaca it was his duty to find a new Queen. The kingdom needed a female role model alongside the male, to help him rule and lead their kingdom to prosperity. This was the standard procedure for royalty in Greece.

But Odysseus was never one to follow the standard procedure. 

“Some of our… visitors… are making themselves at home in the throne room.” Eurylochus finally broke the silence once again, reminding Odysseus of the very thing he was trying to disassociate from. “They’re asking when you’ll go to see them.” 

Odysseus couldn’t mask his frustration. 

3 years. That’s all those selfish dogs had given him to “mourn” for the love of his life, for the mother Telemachas never had the chance to know. 

And now that the 3 years were up, they expected him to move on just like that. 

“Already?” Odysseus commented as he rose from his left seat, almost feeling impressed with the desperation of his so-called guests. “Helios hasn’t even finished placing the sun in its morning spot.”

“C’mon, you and I know human nature better than anyone.” Eurylochus scoffed, having to turn his head to get a proper view of the palace yards beginning to pack with various women and their guards. “Who would ever resist the chance to obtain more power?” 

Odysseus let out a scoff of his own as he walked back inside his bedchamber, practically identical to Eurylochus’. Though his expression was quick to change into one of concern. 

“What of Telemachas!? Is she-” 

“She’s still sleeping. I went to check on her before coming to get you.” Eurylochus answered calmly to Odysseus’ growing anxiety. “I knew you’d ask, so I figured I’d get it out of the way.”

Odysseus let out a sigh of relief. Eurylochus was one of the very few people he trusted with the keys to his palace, which meant he was one of the only few with the ability to open the doors of the royal bedchambers. 

If Telemachas was still asleep, then that meant she would be spared of the wrath and judgments of the “guests” below. For now. 

He would have to check in on her later, for both their sakes. 

Meanwhile, for the sake of maintaining peace, Odysseus had a duty to greet his guests and show them hospitality. Even if he didn't want to. 

And he really, really didn't want to. 

~

Odysseus, now wearing his royal chiton and elegant gold crown, walked down the halls of his palace with his head held high. Eurylochus walked by his side, hand strategically placed near the handle of his broadsword, ready to protect his King from strangers with ill intent. 

It did not take long to make their way to the palace throne room. Given how small Ithaca was as a kingdom, it made sense for the royal palace to look smaller in comparison to neighboring palaces. 

However, even with the relatively small structure, both men shouldn’t have been able to hear commotion within the throne room from 4 halls ahead. This was an immediate indication to Odysseus of how many women were already vying for his kingdom. 

Once the two men stood close enough to the throne room’s closed doors they were able to hear the muffled voices from before much more clearly. 

“What’s the hold up!?”

“We’ve been waiting for hours!” 

“Why can’t we find the King ourselves?!” 

They all sounded feminine. And very annoyed. 

“Ladies, please!” A man's voice, Polites’, called out from the other side of the doors. “The King will arrive in just a moment! So, in the meantime, why don’t we all conduct ourselves in a polite, orderly fashion?” 

A chorus of exasperated groans; if there were any words spoken then they were undecipherable due to the sheer loudness of the crowd. 

Odysseus saw Eurylochus toss him a look, one that had “I told you so” written all over it. 

Nevertheless Odysseus let out a deep breath, praying to the Gods above that he looked much more confident than he felt. With a nod to the other, Eurylochus made his way to the double doors of the throne room. 

He threw the doors open, attracting the attention of every guest within the throne room. Welcome or otherwise.

Eurylochus’ booming voice could be heard from every corner of the large room:

“Presenting His Majesty, Odysseus, King of Ithaca!” 

Everyone within the throne room, friend, suitor, or guard, either kneeled or bowed at the sight of the luminous King of Ithaca. 

Odysseus paid them no mind. He opted to stare straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular. He sat on the left throne, despite royal customs declaring he sit on the right. The right seat belonged to Penelope and Penelope only. 

He would make sure every suitor in his palace remembered this. 

Meanwhile on the opposite side of the room, while Odysseus prepared to address the crowd, Polites was slowly inching his way to Eurylochus’ side. Eurylochus did not notice the younger approaching him, only realizing when Polites had placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Polites gestured to the third member of their friend group, mouthing a silent “Is he okay?”. 

Eurylochus blanked, unsure of how he should answer, before opting to shrug his shoulders; Not necessarily disagreeing but not entirely agreeing either. 

Polites understood. Odysseus was somehow both managing and not. 

Polites couldn’t help but grow somber. He could sympathize, but never fully understand. He will never fully understand the pain his best friends shared when it came to the misfortune caused to them by the Trojan war. 

Polites was one of the lucky few spared of permanent injury on that fateful battle 13 years ago. Any wounds and scars he attained had long since faded, their only proof of existence reduced to mere memory. Meanwhile, Odysseus and Eurylochus had sustained injuries that would affect them for the rest of their lives. 

Odysseus and Eurylochus were also victims to the whims of the Gods, for the divine ordered their wives to war in their stead. How must it feel, to know the love of your life was forced to act as your replacement simply because you allowed yourself to be moved by premature pride? 

Even though it was painful to Eurylochus, Polities knew it was pure agony to Odysseus. He had lost both his younger sister and wife due to a rash victory party… 

Odysseus suddenly shot his best friends a look, silently indicating to them that he was ready for his speech. 

Polites and Euylochus stood straight and gave him their undivided attention. They were ready to lend him their support, regardless of the difficult decision he made. 

“Greetings, my friends.”  

Odysseus took mental note of the amount of women littering his throne room. 32 in total, so far.

“I am delighted to see so many new, cordial faces in our humble kingdom on this day,” 

The suitors weren’t stupid. They all knew Odysseus did not mean a word of what he was saying. He was just spouting flowery nonsense for the sake of appearances. 

However, it mattered not what he felt. All that mattered was his submission to the expectations of Greek royalty.  

That included his remarriage. 

“Now, let’s not beat around the bush.” Odysseus gave everyone an easy, nonchalant smile. “You all want to know who I will take as my new Queen.” 

That threw everyone for a loop. 

Those who knew Odysseus, his guards, servants, and slaves, were surprised at how readily he addressed the issue he tried so desperately to avoid. 

The suitors, along with their guards, were also shocked that he was willing to address the issue without hesitation. Were the rumors about him and his loyalty to his wife all false? 

Polites and Eurylochus, who had known Odysseus for practically their entire lives, couldn’t help but feel a semblance of worry with his words. Odysseus was not one to just give up so easily, especially in matters concerning his heart. 

Just what was he planning? 

Odysseus, for his part, did not betray a single one of his thoughts with that easy smile of his. He stood still, waiting for the commotion to cease, before once again speaking to the crowd. 

Polites and Eurylochus, along with one mysterious suitor, were the only ones to notice the mischievous glint in the King’s eyes. 

“However, in respect of honoring the deceased, I regret to inform you all that I can no longer discuss the matter anytime soon.” 

“WHAT!?” 

A chorus of angry voices were quick to make themselves known at the end of his declaration. Two or four voices quickly became 31, each one demanding to know why he couldn’t choose a new wife right then and there. 

Again only one of them was silent, leaning against the side of the wall with her arms crossed. She watched the King with an intense stare. 

Odysseus raised a single hand, prompting the angry voices to silence themselves. 

“As I was saying…” The King’s smile dropped, replaced with an expression of stoicism. “I plan to honor and respect my wife in death as I did in life. And so, in her memory, I will carve a wooden statue in the form of the late Queen. This will be done carefully and with precision, achieved by my hands and my hands only.” 

Another chorus of annoyed and angered groans sounded from the women. They all knew it was bound to take a long time before the statue was even close to completed. 

Eurylochus and Polities were a mixed bag of reactions, one impressed with the cunning of his friend and the other filled to the brim with worry. They both knew Odysseus was talented in the art of carving; As a symbol of his long-standing love to Penelope, he had made her a bridal bed from the inside of a long-lasting tree. However, that was before his injury to his arm. How long would it take, to carve out a wooden statue that could rightfully honor the beauty and grace of Penelope of Ithaca, all with a bad shoulder, a kingdom to run, and a child to raise? 

It was the perfect plan. 

Odysseus had been scheming ever since he heard talk of his “inevitable” remarriage. The king knew he had to delay choosing a new wife, if not for his fidelity and loyalty to Penelope then for the sake of his daughter. 

Who knows what would happen to her if he remarries, for what Queen would allow the daughter of her predecessor to take the throne? 

No, he needed to be smart and tactical about this. He needed to use the gifts of quick-thinking and feeling calm under pressure bestowed to him by Athena. Telemachas was already 13, well on her way to 14. All he had to do was keep his suitors at bay for a few more years, until the Princess was deemed ready to be Queen. Then Telemachas would be allowed to ascend to the throne without any complaints from his adversaries. 

This statue was the perfect excuse. He will spend as much time as he needed carving it, forever if he had to. 

He could do this. He will find a way. For himself. For Telemachas. For Penelope. 

~

Odysseus was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t notice how one of his suitors was looking at him. She stared at him quietly, intensely, glaring at him from the moment he walked into the throne room. 

She couldn’t look away from his body. His tanned, toned, delicious body. She noticed the way Odysseus’ chiton stuck to his waist, showing off his firm, fit figure. 

When he lifted his hand to silence the crowd, the fabric of his clothing was forced to rise up; his naked body, only briefly displayed, was shown to anyone standing at a certain angle. She was the one lucky enough to stand at this angle. 

She could see his torso from where she stood. She saw his v-line fade into his abdomen, some single stray beads of sweat drip down in that path. She saw a set of prominent abs, mild but still very much there, that shuddered with each breath he took. And finally, before he lowered his arm and his torso was covered once more, she was able to see his pectorals in full view. They were flat, but still round; oh, what must it feel like to take a bite of that flesh, to watch as the man underneath was fully marked and claimed?

There was no doubt about it. He was beautiful. He was perfect. 

He was hers. 

Based on what he just declared, accompanied by rumors circulating the palace, it appeared that he planned to make his remarriage a difficult process for his suitors. 

That was fine.

She can be patient. 

No matter how long it took she’d find a way to force him to accept her, even if she had to hold him down and take him by force.

After all, she was blessed by Zeus himself. Though not his child, and by definition having no divine blood, one would be forgiven for assuming differently based on her ability to look forever young despite her age. The King of Gods gave her this gift, saying he knew her to be a kindred spirit. 

The point was anything and everything she ever wanted would belong to her.  

Ithaca. 

The Right Throne. 

Odysseus.

No matter what it took, no matter what she had to do, one day all of it will bear her name. 

Calypso.

[losticaruss]

not sure if people have already posted about this but i think it's important to share. i know they've posted follow-ups on tiktok (and maybe ig), including the statement that it is OFFICIALLY happening CHRISTMAS EVE AND CHRISTMAS DAY. DECEMBER 24 AND 25. there's also an official list that includes, but isn't limited to, spotify, tiktok, ig, ANY meta products, hulu, netflix, and the like. genuinely this is SOSOSO important

[ID: a tiktok from @/skyfisherforskyfish.

audio begins:

"i've moved on from feeling spiteful. im officially feeling... diabolical. the next big thing we can do to harm big business- after you've cancelled your amazon subscription, after you've cancelled your audible, after you've moved your money out of big banks and into local credit union, after you've figured out a way to buy local- the next big thing, ladies and gentlemen, is the data strike of Christmas 2024. why would a data strike be effective? because data is the most valuable asset on earth, right after human suffering from denying people who need healthcare, healthcare. that is actually the reason behind the tiktok ban. it's not about national security, it's about the data war that's happening between the united states and china. Christmas is a very pivotal moment, because all of the gifts are purchased, and now companies get to observe what you do with the money and gifts you've been given. your data is critically important right now for training their models and training their campaigns going forward on how consumer behavior is influenced by the holidays. that's not the only thing. following the shooting of the united healthcare ceo, the surveillance state has absolutely exploded in popularity- as you can see, many cities particularly los angeles (where i live) expanding their budgets for next year to use video surveillance on its populations. it's horrifying! it's dystopian! it's entirely preventable. the data strike is one to two days where we simply get off social media. you do not give them a second of your time for advertising dollars, for data mining, for any of it. this would not only kneecap the marketing budgets of big businesses, which have already been spent, they've already been expended, you will only ruin their r.o.i.. you will also prevent them from furthering the expansion of the surveillance state. you could directly say fuck you to zuckerberg and musk easily, with no pain. further, it's a great opportunity because during the holidays, we're pretty busy anyways, and you're there with family. and i know you're like 'oh, i don't want to hang out with my family, i just want to tap out!' challenge yourself. even if you're not having a good time, just have a time, rather than being completely numbed out by your screen, don't you think? one day won't kill you. two days would be a superhuman feat and i would be so impressed, i'd be so proud of you. you could also save on carbon emissions, because it requires a lot of energy to run this app (tiktok) and all of its servers, and every other social media. i have already seen such an enormous amount of collective action taken- people cancelling their amazon subscriptions, people taking their money out of big banks, going to local credit unions, decentralizing their purchases, starting small, local community gardens, going back to their libraries- people are taking action, and just because you don't see it online does not mean it's not happening. in fact, i want you to be absolutely aware that the reason you're not seeing it online is because it is happening. together, we can do the data strike of Christmas 2024. please share this video, please encourage your friends and family to take this shit seriously because the effect and the impact we could have on the market, on the surveillance state, and on the environment is legitimately enormous, and i believe in us. thank you for watching, i know this video is long, i know you've got shit to do. have fun scrolling. talk to later, bye."

/end ID]