#will be updating my header in the morning i don’t want to have to do my fuckass song and dance to get screenshots from ps4 to computer

[syncopation53]

So-called “moved on from destiny” people when the final shape campaign

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Epilogue

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: Blue sets up her future in Joel's life, step by step by step

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

TAGS HAVE BEEN SHITTY make sure you're caught up!!

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

9 years later.

Life was good. Really fucking good.

You had two teenagers which was… fucking insane, honestly. Sarah and Ellie were close as two almost-twins could get, and often fought like it too. Nothing nasty or mean spirited, just so clearly sister stuff like Ellie using Sarah’s deodorant or Sarah taking Ellie’s coat. They’d fight and yell and Joel would tell them to knock it off before they stormed off. An hour later Ellie would say hey, the bachelor is on, wanna watch? Or Sarah would throw hot cheettos at Ellie and they’d be back to normal.

Tommy had been mostly sober for 5 years, his longest stretch yet. It was looking up, even after a few close calls. There had been a night or two Tommy had called Joel, close to relapse, but being the good brother he was Joel was always there. After a few years at his own apartment, Tommy had suffered a pretty bad near-relapse on hard drugs. He broke his 3 years sobriety on alcohol and called Joel one night crying while he was watching The Late Late Show, Sarah and Ellie up past their bedtimes one summer. 

“Tommy? What’s going on, man?” Joel stands up from the couch, already moving to get his shows as Ellie mutes Craig Furegson. Everyone is quiet as Joel listens. “I’ll be right there, man, don’t worry. Nah, it ain’t a problem at all, Tommy, Blue’s here with the girls.”

Joel stayed with a drunk Tommy all night, holding him, putting on shows, ordering pizza, playing card games, anything it took to keep Tommy from calling up his old dealer.

In the morning, Joel brought him home to sleep. It was the summer, so you were off and could watch Tommy while Joel went to work, Tommy using a sick day at the farm and Joel and Tess hustling extra hard to make up for it. It didn’t matter, because it was Tommy, and they’d do anything for him.

When he put Tommy asleep on the couch, Ellie and Sarah asked to talk to you and Blue, pulling you into Ellie’s room.

Ellie steepled her hands, looking like an evil villain in a made-for-tv-movie. “We have a proposition for you.”

“You’re not getting your nose pierced-”

“Joel.” You chastise.

“Sorry El, what is it.”

Ellie looks to Sarah, urging her on.

“We think uncle Tommy should move in with us again. We love him, and it worries us that he’s had to call you so much recently.”

You can see Joel close his eyes, the wrinkles around his face compounding. He was getting older, as were you, and you loved every single wrinkles and gray and pop of his knees. You speak before he does, knowing your husband is tired.

“I’m sorry, girls. We never wanted Tommy’s issues to effect you.”

Sarah: “We knew there were problems, even when we were young. It’s hard not to notice, you couldn’t have hid that unless he was never around, and we wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“Besides, mom.” Ellie adds. “We’re teenagers now. 13 and 14 are practically adults!”

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t right to be worry’n about that at your age.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about every single thing all the time, and yet you do anyway, so it’s even!”

You crack a smile, Ellie, despite no blood relation at all, had taken after you, while Sarah reminded you a lot like her godmother, Talia, mixed with some of her dad. Ellie was agreat kid, even as she entered her teens, she remained steadfast. There was a… slight issue with her getting in fights in school, but when they talked to the principal, there was always a reason you thought made sense, even if the school was displeased. Once, some girl called Sarah a slur. Another time, a boy was bullying a disabled kid. They found out Ellie was gay after the incident where she punched a kid for pushing a boys head in a toilet for being gay.

By this point, coming out wasn’t a nerve wracking thing in your family for Ellie. You and Joel had made it very clear that they had nothing to worry about, and that much was obvious by the people in the girls' lives; Bill and Frank still employed Tommy Tess and Joel and had an active part in the girls' lives even though they could stay home during harvest now. Talia and Tess were their beloved aunts. Sarah was very close to Talia, bonding over hours of doing hair. Ellie and Tess clicked right now, both tomboys, but both girls loved both aunts. 

And of course there was Tommy. When Tommy came out, it began a long struggle of keeping him out of the closet. He switched from gay, bisexual, then insisting he was straight over and over again whenever he went through some identity crisis, or when he reconnected with military friends, or he heard of some hate crime. No girlfriend, no boyfriend, just a cycle of hook ups to keep him distracted.

The girls loved their uncle, Sarah in particular was attached at the hip to him, and it hurt her when he was hurting. You and Joel had tried to protect her, but she was an intuitive girl.

And then, there was you. You had wanted to wait until the girls were a little older to explain things to them, but they went to school in the same district you had taught in. a friend of Sarah’s suddenly wasn’t allowed to play at your home anymore, and soon a rumor went around school that you were born a man. Sarah came home crying one day when she was 12, and you didn’t want to lie to her. You and Joel sat Ellie and her down and explained it to them as best you could for their age. There weren't any handbooks for this sort of thing. 

There was a moment, a brief moment of worry in your head. The echo of Kayla’s voice telling you Sarah wouldn’t love you when she found out. But Kayla didn’t know Sarah. She’d probably seen Sarah three time since the day you confronted her for hurting Joel, and then disappeared. The only time you heard from her after that was when she sent back the papers, signed, relinquishing her parental rights so you could adopt Sarah. She enclosed a $50 check, and although Joel had told her that she could still see Sarah as long as Sarah agreed, you haven't heard from her since. 

At ages 11 for Ellie and 10 for Sarah, you held your daughters in the courthouse as they were legally adopted.

Now, you stood in the upstairs of the home you shared with your daughters and your husband as they showed you just the kind of young ladies they’d grown into.

Joel shook his head. “Thank you, girls, but we ain’t got room here. He’ll stay on the couch for a few days, but I don’t think he’d wanna stay there for more than that.”

After a bad night, Tommy stayed for a little bit. Joel said couch, but sometimes you took the couch so Tommy could sleep in the bed with Joel if he really was in a bad way. You loved Tommy like a brother, you and him getting close in the nearly year you both lived with Tess and Talia. 

Sarah and Ellie looked at each other, and Sarah spoke. “We decided we’d combine our rooms. Ellie will come sleep with me, and Uncle Tommy could have his old room back.”

You immediately felt your eyes watering, realizing how good your children had become, how much like their father they’d grown into. This is Joel’s call. “Girls, no, I don’t want y’all making these sacrifices-”

“Uncle Tommy raised me. And, no offense, but he’s my favorite person.” She said with a smile. “We want to.” And Ellie agreed.

Joel was still declining, but wavering. “I- thats very nice but if he were to move it, we’d have to commit to a year, maybe two, I don’t know…”

Ellie spoke now. “We think it would be best if he stayed for a while. We’re prepared to commit to this through high school. We wanna do this dad.” Her sincerity struck you, a young woman grown up right before your eyes. 

You turn to Joel.  “Baby… I think it might be a good idea…” When you turn to look at your husband, he has a tear rolling down his face and his chest breathing heavily. 

“Babygirls.” Joel’s voice warbled. “I love you, so much.”

When Tommy was sober and the worst of his hangove was done, you spoke to him.

2 months later he was moved into Ellie’s old room where he’s been the last year.

*

It’d been a year since that morning, and things were better than ever.

Tommy was sober, the girls were happy, you and Joel were happy, and everyone had driven out to Austin to celebrate Ellie’s first pride.

“Whatya think, kiddo?” Frank asked, clapping her back softly with his hand.

Ellie smiled widely, taking in everything around her.  “Pretty fucking cool!”

“Language.” Her dad chastised, earning a nudge from you. He continued. “Don’t be wonder’n off girls, it ain’t safe-”

You decide to tease him, being the only none LGBT person here, other than Sarah, although at 13 there was no reason she needed to commit either way. 

“Oh, so because almost everyone here is gay, it’s inherently more dangerous? Okay Joel.”

But Joel was not to be fooled when you’ve been playing this game for ten years. “Nice try baby…” He paused for a moment before adding, “You know it’s because the city makes me nervous, right? Not because-”

“I know, Joely” You pinch his butt, making Tess behind you gag, as if she hadn’t gotten a grab of a few Miller buttcheeks back before getting married. Well, legally recognized in the State of Massachutis, and not in the other 49.

“What about him?” Ellie asks loudly, pointing to a guy and nudging her uncle. “He looks like he could teach you better spanish.”

Tommy flicked her. “Don’t fuck’n point, shit head.” He ignored Joel’s tired reminder for language. Tommy is where she picked up the habit. “And just because he’s got brown skin doesn’t mean he speaks spanish.”

Ellie looked to Sarah. Sarah’s eyes said no. Ellie’s impulse control said yes. “Hey! You!” Ellie shouts to the man while everyone around her tries to stop her. Poor guy was just trying to get a hot dog.

“Hey?” He looked confused but not unkind as she walked fearlessly too him. He was a little taller than her dad, not by much, dark curls sticking to his head with sweat. It wasn’t even noon yet, but June in Austen could kill. 

Joel is calling Ellie’s name, pulling on her arm but she turns to him, looking up. “Let me do this or I will start screaming stranger danger.” Joel let go, but facepalmed, staying right next to her none the less. “You speak spanish?” She asked the man, thumbing towards Tommy. “My unce here is looking to brush up.” Double Miller facepalm.

“Uhhhhh, no, but I can get by in Hindi.” He looked to Tommy with a grin. “I can impress some desi MILFs, if that’s your goal.”

Tommy swooped in slinging Ellie over his shoulder as she shouted ‘hey!’ and began backing away. “Don’t listen to her, she’s- I swear we’re not racist- I told her not to assume- listen, she knows like, no white people- I’m Mexican!” He nervous rambled, Ellie over his shoulder telling him he’s floundering.

The man just laughed. “Hey, it’s alright, man. Don’t worry about it.”

Tommy mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and turned around. Now facing the stranger, Ellie frantically motioned toward Tommy to him, pointing and drawing hearts in the air.

*

After running into him and embarrassing Tommy a few more times, Ellie and Sarah got his business card. Jake and Tommy have talked every day since.

That night, the girls sound asleep in their room, Tommy on the phone with Jake, you keep your hand wrapped tight around your husband's cock. You were tired, not wanting to get up to any antics but you definitely wanted to make your husband cum. He deserved an orgasm for dealing with crowds of strange people in a big city, constantly alert for his daughters, Tommy, Tess, Talia, you, and even Frank. Him and Bill were the same in that aspect, always keeping an eye on theirs, protecting the good people in this world. You suspected Bill was getting the same treatment on the farm right now. Well, almost. Bill didn’t strike you as the type to put up with edging.

“There you go baby, there you go… so close, so close… ah! Not yet!” You squeeze at the base of Joel’s cock, staving off his orgasm a third time. Oh, you were a tease.

“Blue, come ooooon!” He whines, fingers gripping the sheets so hard one corner was already pulled off the bed. “This ain’t fair.”

You begin to stroke him again, his hard and thick cock not allowing for you fingers to close around it, thick and juicy and oh-so mouth watering. 

“Ooooh poor baby boy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” You lied

“You always- ooohhh shit” Joel moans out for you, you love seeing your big tough man reduced to a whimpering puddle just from a little bit of edging. “You always say that, Blue”

Still, you laugh, your hand moving up and down on his cock as Joel begin to buck his hips into your fist. Silly boy, he thinks if he can reach his high faster, you’ll let him have it. “I know, I’m a meany meany.” You pinch his orgasm off again, giggling when he whispers a harsh-

“Fuck!” 

“Aht, aht, aht!” You continue to tease, spitting on his already over stimulated cock before playing with him more. “Language!” You reference his police of Ellie and Tommy.

Joel flops his head on the pillow. Your little pillow princess. “Oh I see. Y-your-” His words are cut off hummed whimper, his cute little feet wiggling. “You're punishing me for being annoying today?” He chuckles a little, knowing it’s all in fun.

You kiss his forehead. “Not one bit, baby. You’re my perfect man, and I want you to come. Go ahead Joel, come for me.” You pump him as the love of your life groans, covering your hand and his stomach in cum.

Once cleaned and in PJ’s, ready to sleep the fuck in on sunday, you assume your position behind him, wrapping your arms around his wide middle, getting a little wider every year, and kiss his scruffy neck. “Thank you for all you do for our family, baby.”

“Ain’t no thing.”

“But it is.” You coax him to look at you, his eyes wide and brown and beautiful. “I can’t imagine what my life would have been like if I had parents as supportive as you, loved me so unconditionally.” Things with your parents were pretty good now, they were. As well as you supposed it could get. They loved Sarah and Ellie and visited a few times a year, as you did them. Reconciling was more about giving grandparents to those girls they wouldn’t have otherwise. The day you met Joel, he said he hates his birthday, and that never changed. Years later, he’ll have a cake and accepts gifts, but it’s mostly for his girls. You found out his dad died on his birthday, leaving him without any parents. “Things would be so different. I wouldn’t have gone through addiction, I could have started hormones earlier and maybe I’d look-”

“Blue.” Joel turned over to cup your face. “There ain’t nothing wrong with the way you look. You’re my beautiful wife, and thats that.”

You smile at him. “Thank you, baby. But I mean it. I love that we can provide a different environment for Ellie to come out in.”

“I am too, mi amor.” He smiles back, and you lay your head on his chest. 

You wore his old flannel that night. It felt like home.

Wow, its been a ride!!

I know this series was small but im so thankful for everyone who read it and supported me!!!!

I hope somewhere out there, a transwoman reads this and feels seen <3 you are valued, you are important, you are loved

I love blue and I love the little word here, the found family Joel has gained over the years!!!! Now Jake enters the picture!

If you have any questions about this world, loose ends you didnt think i tied up or you have any additional q's of any kind, comment, reblog, or send an ask! Im happy to answer!

I love you all so much!

Please consider making a small donation to The Trevor Project <3

[its--fandom--darling]

little bean - em x fem!reader

This is my submission to @oneforthemunny​‘s summertime writing game. I chose to do a wildcard 🃏 submission for cowboy eddie and sweet girl. I hope I did them justice and that everyone enjoys this sweet little story about dad!cowboy!eddie as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Pairing: Dad!Cowboy!Eddie Munson x Sweet Girl!Reader

@oneforthemunny​ @munsonology

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, reader being called little mama, afab reader, brief mention of car accident. please let me know if I’ve missed anything and I’ll update my list. (This isn’t edited. hopefully it’s all good. Enjoy!)

A/N: this is heavily inspired by personal experience with one of those ride and spring ponies that my sister and i had growing up. all header pictures are from pinterest, credit to the og owners of the photos. graphics by @firefly-graphics​

“Can you please uncover my eyes now?” you plead with your fiance as he guides you outside to see his latest surprise. You and Eddie had never really talked about having kids, always considering the many farm animals that you’d convinced him to adopt over the years as your pseudo-children. So when you’d found out that you were pregnant after a fender-bender, you and Eddie had the realization that you both wanted this little bean to be a part of your life. 

This brings you to now, 6 months into your pregnancy. The morning sickness had wrecked you for a while and your cravings had been intense and random. Pickles and peanut butter, sardines and fiddleheads, copious amounts of cheese doodles. But Eddie had taken everything in stride, making the 20 plus minute drive into town to hit the only 24 hour mini mart in the area whenever the urge for a midnight milkshake struck you. He’d truly been a saint, he’d always been good to you, treated you like a princess, but seeing you round with his child had unleashed another side of him, one that was incredibly tender. Without hesitation the two of you had decided to be surprised when the baby came, knowing that no matter what you had, it wouldn’t change the fact that you two were going to spoil, cherish and raise your little bean to be a kind person.  

“Just be patient for a second more, little mama. I don’t wanna spoil the surprise just yet,” he murmured, a grin evident in his voice. 

You huffed in fake annoyance, crossing your arms after the screen door, thwapped shut behind the two of you. 

“Alright, ready?” 

“Yes, Eds! The suspense is killing me!” you squeak, bringing your hands up to grab at your man’s calloused hands where they rested over your eyes. 

He chuckles as he lets his hands be pulled from your eyes. You blink a few times to adjust your vision before taking in his latest surprise. In your silence, your feel him lace his fingers with yours as you feel the familiar burn of tears in your eyes. 

“I know little bean won’t be able to use it for a while after they’ve made their grand entrance, but it was the last one in the store and sweet girl, I just couldn’t resist.”

You turn and kiss him softly. “It’s perfect, I love it.”

Sitting on the front porch is a ride and spring horse, almost identical to the one that you’d described to Eddie. You’d been telling him how, despite being a city girl, had spent many of your earliest summers of childhood at your grandparents. They lived in the countryside in a big white farmhouse style house.  Your grandfather was always a fan of black and white westerns, so you’d watched more than your fair share while your granny took her afternoon nap. You’d expressed to Eddie that those were some of your favorite childhood memories, especially when you’d arrived one day to find a beautiful chestnut colored ride and spring pony on your grandparents front lawn. The image of his sweet girl as child with little pigtails and her grandfather’s cowboy hat slipping down over her eyes as she bounced away the afternoon on that horse had made his heart clench. 

“Really? It isn’t too much? I know that I’ve been spoiling little bean and they ain’t even arrived yet but…”

You cut him off with a sweet kiss, cupping the back of his neck with your free hand and pouring your love and appreciation into the kiss. “It’s perfect,” you repeat as your lips part and he breaks into a grin as you bump your nose against his affectionately. “Thank you, for the horse and for taking care of me and bean. Thank you for listening to me and remembering those little details I shared with you.”

He grins wider, eyes crinkling with it. “It’s my pleasure, sweet girl. You two are my whole world.”

You grin at him, “You forgot about Medusa, can’t have her feeling left out now.” 

He chuckles and rolls his eyes at you, “Well, you’re right about that, sweet girl.”

You kiss him again. “Always am, aren’t I?”

He rolls his eyes, “I’ll give you most of the time, little mama.”

You smirk up at him, “I’ll take it. Now come on and show me what else you got.”

He furrows his brow at you, “What are you talking about?”

“I just know you didn’t leave the store with just that toy, lay it on me, what else did you get?” 

He sighs, “You know me far too well, sweet girl.”

“It’s because I love ya handsome, now show me the goods.”

He chuckles as you settle on the porch swing he’d installed for you when you’d first moved in with him. “I’ll get the bag.”

You giggle and kick your feet up resting your hands on your bump, stroking your thumb over it tenderly as Eddie ran to the pick up to grab the rest of his haul. As you watched him go through everything that he picked up for your future child, you knew that there was no way that you would wanna do this with anyone but your Eddie. 

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(Read more sacrifice)

[hazbim-hostel]

Greetings and salutations!

I am Enne, somewhat new to Hazbin Hotel, and this is the intro post/masterlist to my sideblog for all of my writings, arts, and other ideas regarding the aforementioned show. This blog is mostly an archive of me talking to myself, but I'm not against finding a friend or two in this fandom.

This will likely get more updates as my projects increase.

Writing Masterlist (under the cut)

⛤In progress⛤

To save a fallen angel is to free a demon (maybe placeholder?)

This one deserves its own post (I'll get to that eventually), but it's my main project where Charlie is an angel and Things Sure Do Happen. Like Alastor except he's stuck inside of a bottle. Here's the premise:

Charlie Morningstar, an angel, loves her father and her girlfriend. Her life in Heaven is just as picture perfect as it is supposed to be, but all goes downhill when she overhears about something called the extermination from a conversation between two exorcists. They decide to throw her into Hell, knowing they broke the most important rule they'd ever been given. Now a fallen angel, Charlie must survive in Hell with all of its hazards and sinners, trying to find someone nice enough to help her contact her family. Unfortunately for her, she ends up entangled in an afterlife-wide strife featuring The Queen of Hell, The First Man, The High Seraphim, and a certain sinner who once went by the title “The Radio Demon”.

Shapeshifting (placeholder title)

One-shot inspired by Alastor's many shapes and forms he takes on. I wanted to write a sick-fic, but not a traditional one, so this came to be! Essentially, Alastor wakes up one morning only to notice that he is changing his form (to a full or partial demon, glitchy weird one, shadowy one, and others) about every minute or so with no control over it, not even knowing why. Charlie insists on helping him once she finds out, and Vaggie tags along. He just wants to ask Rosie's opinion. Alone. (He also has some other side effects, like nausea and headaches and stuff.)

Sleeping Beauty AU

Too much in progress for me to be able to say anything.

⛤Finished⛤

Entertainment

Vox’s attempts to stalk monitor Alastor don’t work when the Radio Demon himself shows up in his surveillance room, saying something about how he’s grown bored with Vox’s antics. He does not understand, and a proper explanation joined by a threat is required.

Bear trap

A day or two ago, his throat had started to hurt, but he’d dismissed it easily. He’d thought it was because he’d been rambling about this and that to Rosie too much, as that was the usual cause. It had been surprising when it lasted until the next day, sure, but who could have guessed there was another reason for it? Not him, he couldn’t even recall the last time he was actually sick. (Alastor finds himself with a fever, a sore throat, and a lot more symptoms. He walks around the hotel in the middle of the night and thinks, trying to ignore the pain and discomfort.)

Farewell for now!

I'm happy just putting these ideas somewhere in text.

Dividers from here and here! My blog icon is drawn by me (with a couple filters to make it pop), and header image is a screenshot from the end of episode two (also with some filters).

[kissalopa]

Check In Tag ✔️

I was tagged by @sweetpyxels Thank you so much for the tag 🥰 💜

Why did you choose your url?

“Kissa” means cat in Finnish, and Lopa was the name of my cat 🐱

Lopa was my true love, he’s been with me for half of my life. I created this nick when Lopa was alive. He passed away two years ago, so I won’t ever change my nick to anything else, that way he will always be with me

Any side blogs? If you have them name them and why you have them.

I have a CC finds side-blog, but I haven’t used it for a year now. I use it to test blog themes now

How long have you been on tumblr?

I’m here since June 2019. That makes it two years (well almost three already)

Do you have a queue tag?

I don’t. I wanted to have one back when I was trying to figure out how everything works, but it didn’t work out.

All my gameplay posts are qeued, everything else I post manually

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

To follow modders and CC creator that I liked. I started using mods and CC for my game, and searching for updates was tedious, so I decided to make a blog to folllow and see all updates first hand. And with time I decided to start posting my gameplay.

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I choosed it when it was Simbrleen last year, and was too lazy to change it to somehthing new since 🙃

Why did you choose your header?

I think this question is about mobile header, or blog header on dashboard, or whatever it is called.

I wanted something dark, and found this screenshot from my Asylum challenge

What’s your post with the most notes?

https://kissalopa.tumblr.com/post/674466879376588800/ravensims-hairs-updated-to-24-ea-swatches-50

This one with updated Ravensim hairs. It has 176 notes

I used this site to find out https://jetblackcode.com/tumblrnotecounter

How many mutuals do you have?

Mutuals are blogs with whom you follow each other, right?

I don’t know how to check this number 🤷‍♀️

How many followers do you have?

463, but some of the blogs are empty or inactive

How many people do you follow?

540, and I try to lower that number from time to time, because I spend too much time scrolling through my dash

Have you ever made a shitpost?

I don’t think so. I’m not sure what a shitpost is. I do post my thoughts from time to time, but I don’t think I ever posted something that would count as a shitpost.

How often do you use tumblr each day?

Too often 😬

About three times a day. In the morning while I’m having breakfast, during daytime while my baby naps, and in the evening when my baby goes to sleep

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

I didn’t

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

I don’t like that. This blog is a place for me to post my screenshots from a video game. I don’t want to reblog politics or anything unrelated. I do reblog non sims stuff from time to time, but I don’t want people to scream at me to reblog something.

Same goes for sims reblogs. Even if a post is sims related I don’t have to reblog anything if I don’t want to.

Do you like tag games?

Yes, I do. I don’t always do them, but I like to be tagged

Do you like ask games?

Also yes. And same goes here, I don’t always do them, but I still like to be tagged

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I don’t want to tag anyone. Because I’m afraid I will forget to tag someone, and I don’t want to make anyone sad

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I don’t think so 🤔

I tag: @daisydezem, @aleksa-sims, @oswanily, @hellodahliah, @chelseasanidiot, @kimbr3 and anyone who wants to do this, but wasn’t tagged yet

[sweetestlamb]

Call My Name

Summary: “I don’t know what to do I think I’m falling for you.” 

Author's Note: Back with my longest update for this story, almost 10k!! I have only written that much for a chapter for IOTNBO, I’m so proud and excited. It’s thanks to many of you who have been messaging me to let me know how much you appreciate my story and those of you who are making artwork in any capacity based on my story, I am honored thank you!! I battled a lot with the ending but finally I just went with my gut, the characters wanted to act this way and who am I to fight it? I hope you enjoy and I will see you again in the next chapter! Amazing header by @ewolfwitchwisegirl every time I see it I can’t help but smile. Thank you endlessly. 

She checks the time on her phone again, for no particular reason just curious about how much time has passed since she last checked. Five minutes. Interesting, she'll make sure to check again to see if her hypothesis is correct, that time seems to move slower in Ju-Kyung's house it feels as if they have been sitting here for hours yet her phone is displaying something completely different and there has to be a scientific explanation for that.

"You acted like you didn't want him to have your phone number but now you won't stop checking your phone." Su-ah teases across the room, hanging upside with her feet on the wall as her fingers move across her own endlessly buzzing phone. She's not jealous about that, not at all.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was just checking the time." She replies coolly pushing the phone away from her with complete disinterest. 

She states blankly back at twin penetrating stares of disbelief, rolling her eyes she lowers her head onto the table picking at the skin on her index finger.

"I told you to stop doing that!" Ju-Kyung admonishes grabbing her hands and halting her abuse, they are hideous to look at the skin peeling all over no amount of lotion can rectify the damage she's done. They are one of the reasons she loves winter, she has a bounty of gloves to hide them from view. Self-consciously she tries to twist them away, they look even worst next to the soft plush skin of Ju-Kyung, who consistently moisturizes the appendages.

"Just leave them. They're ugly anyway."

The other girl ignores her bringing out the hand cream she's seen so many times, she simply sighs when the thick lotion is rubbed into her brittle skin. They both know that this is pointless because she'll soon wash away any benefits but Ju-Kyung is always persistent and she's given up on fighting with her. With a light pat and triumphant hum, Ju-Kyung releases her.

"There. Don't they look beautiful?"

They don't. Out of all the things she hates about herself and that lists grows more abundant everyday, her hands are high on the list. They make her feel hideous and as if anything she touches will also lose its beauty. A twisted nightmare inducing Midas touch.

She doesn't reply beyond shoving them into the pocket of her blazer.

"Su-jin?" Su-ah calls from behind her, sounding more serious than she's used to. She tightens in anticipation, barely turning her head.

"Are you okay? I've been giving you space but I want to know what's wrong. What happened at school?"

Her chest constricts painfully, she's not ready for this conversation possibly will never be but if she refuses will they shut her out? Will she be abandoned? Fear rushes through her veins at the very idea of being without them.

She forces herself to speak, "I...its-- what....I"

The words are lodged in her throat choking her until it's hard to breathe, she starts wheezing and then she's wrapped up in a tight hug, her last bit of oxygen squeezed from her body.

"Shhhh. It's okay. We love you, don't cry." Su-ah coos at her, stroking her head and mumbling soothing words into her ear. Ju-Kyung wipes away ardent tears she hadn't realized had fallen, her smooth hands soft on Su-jin’s wet skin.

"I can't. I'm sorry, not yet. Please don't go." For once she says exactly what's in her heart, people leave that's her reality but not them, she can't lose them death would be easier. So she begs tightening her once limp arms around Su-ah's small waist, clinging to the other girl like a weeping child. Her father has stolen everything she's ever loved from her, they couldn’t be another casualty.

"We're not going anywhere. We love you, no matter what. Nothing could change that."

She allows Su-ah to rock her back and forth, deep in her heart she knows those words aren't true, feelings change and once they figure out her secret, this love will fade and they'll grow apart; pity is the kiss of death. Once they know how truly pathetic she is they won't be able to look at her, she'll just be a broken doll that needs to be fixed.

"We love you."

Sure, but for how long?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Becoming Sujin's friend wasn't easy she can remember the day she first saw the abnormally beautiful girl, she looked like a character out of a Korean drama with her perfect round face and effortless style. She'd simply stared in awe, too dazed to approach the other girl. When they crossed paths in the hallway she watched the other girl intently, she decided in that moment they had to be friends.

It was like destiny, they ended up in the same class and she started to follow the other girl around smiling warmly every time those cool eyes would look at her in question. She sat near her in the cafeteria and greeted her every morning, yet she was no closer to becoming her friend still skirting the edge of acquaintance.

Then one day out of the blue for the first time the other girl approached her, her face expressionless but the air around her was frigid. She gulped watching her draw nearer until they were face to face.

"What do you want from me?" She blinked at the unexpected question, rolling it over in her mind and still not coming up with an answer.

"What?" Was her eloquent reply, she was finally having a conversation with her dream friend and she couldn't get her thoughts together.

"You're always following me. Do you want something from me?"

She thought it was blatantly obvious what she desired from the other girl but she smiled before replying, "Friendship. I want to be your friend."

She'd never seen the other girl look confused before, her eyes got wider and her lips almost disappeared from how tightly she was twisting her mouth.

"Why?"

Her first reaction was to laugh because it sounded like a joke, who wouldn't want to be Sujin's friend she was one of the smartest and prettiest girls in the school but something about the look on her face told Su-ah those answers wouldn't suffice. The other girl was peering at her with deep searching eyes, waiting for her response.

Shrugging she didn't overthink her reply, choosing not to list the many reasons and going with the most basic, "I like you."

It was her first platonic confession, she almost blushed at the words and the potential misunderstandings but Sujin simply looked at her before walking away without another word. She sighed thinking she'd scared the other girl away, walking home crestfallen.

But the next day, Sujin said good morning to her first for the first time ever and they walked to class and as they say the rest was history, they became each other's confidant and best friend. Sujin, the first person to know about her crush on Tae-hoon, always there to wipe her tears after their countless break ups.

Su-jin is like a sister and that is why her breakdown feels even worst, she doesn't know what's going on, has never seen her best friend cry before. Su-jin isn't one to be open about her emotions, her smiles are as elusive as her tears. So her heart aches as Sujin shakes in her arms, wishing she knew what was hurting the girl this deeply so she could rescue her.

"I'll go wash my face." She's reluctant to let the other girl go but she knows the intricacies of her brilliant mind, knows that she's embarrassed and mentally ripping herself apart. Unwrapping her arms she lets her go, tears pooling in her eyes watching her friend suffer. 

Quickly brushing the moisture away she turns to Ju-Kyung who isn't faring much better, dark mascara lines dripping down her cheeks. She laughs sadly wiping at the marks with her thumbs before pulling her fingers back and wiping them on her jacket.

"I'm sorry I'm crying, I know we need to be strong for her." Ju-Kyung apologizes but more stubborn tears rolls down her face and she hugs her tightly, needing the comfort herself.

"You're allowed to cry. We'll be there for her until she's ready to tell us what's wrong."

They nod and hug each other weeping for their friend who so solemnly weeps for herself.

It shocks them both when a loud vibration penetrates the silence of the room, the noisy disturbance makes them jump apart before they both glance at the phone on the table before looking at each other.

"Do you think it's...."

"What if it's.."

They speak at the same time and that's the exact moment that the door creaks open and Sujin arrives with red-rimmed eyes her hair now pulled back in a low ponytail.

Su-ah looks at the phone with wide eyes before looking at Sujin, then back to the phone before smiling innocently, "You should check the time."

Sujin doesn't react at first, standing completely still before she takes a hesitant step forward as if the phone has transformed into a bomb. Gingerly lifting it up she wipes go unlock the screen, trying to look unbothered her movements exaggeratedly slow. Su-ah sees right through her, sees the way her fingers twitch and how she takes a deep breath before opening the message.

She watches Sujin's face for a reaction, a smile or frown but there's no reaction until she huffs and throws the phone away with a sharp whisper, "That idiot. What the hell is that?"

Without asking for permission, they know each other's passwords there isn't much privacy between the three of them, she picks up the discarded phone, eyes bulging at the message before she starts to giggle. It was exactly who they thought and his first message to her is an image and the words, saw this and thought of you.

She grins at the message, wondering if Seojun knows how flirty the message reads. He'd openly let Sujin know that she was on his mind. She'd spontaneously decided to save Sujin under that name in his phone Ju-Kyung had told her about their interesting conversation and the pet name, then he used it again at the gate and she couldn't resist. What girl didn't like being called a princess?

"If he calls me that one more time I'm going to break his motorcycle." She winces at the threat, shifting her eyes. Okay, it seemed there was one girl.  She needs to tell Seojun to never mention to Sujin that she was the one to save her under "princess" she had helped him get her number after all, they were practically friends now. He couldn’t throw her under the bus. 

"Are you going to answer?" He wants to know if you want him to buy it for you." She giggles at the new message gasping when Sujin snatches the phone from her hands, she looks over at Ju-Kyung with a raised eyebrow at the show. They both watch with conspiring smiles as the commonly emotionless girl angrily throws herself into the bed and starts animatedly tapping on her screen.

She's never looked more alive.

It's the universe righting itself when she hears Ju-Kyung's mother yell up the stairs.

"Ju-Kyung, tell your friend Su-jin her father is here to pick her up."

Ju-Kyung's mother says the words upbeat, mumbling about doting fathers and harshly hitting her husband on the back of his head as she wonders to the kitchen. She schools her face into a plastic smile, despite the fear gripping at her and making it hard to focus. But she can't show any cracks in her display today, too much has happened and she can't allow anyone to be suspicious. They have to believe that her father is a loving man who picks up his daughter out of the goodness of his heart.

He almost looks normal smiling serenely in the doorway, even lifting a hand to wave at her. Cold ice chills run down her spine at the terrifying action.

"Why didn't you tell your mother and I you were going to a friend's house? We were worried sick about you."

She can hear the threat coded in those words, how dare you go anywhere without my permission, she rushes to his side knowing every minute she wastes he will punish her for. She'd inconvenienced him by making him pick her up. He would make her regret that decision.

Bowing to Ju-Kyung and her family, avoiding Su-ah's watchful eyes she rapidly puts on her shoes watching as her father bows as well thanking Ju-Kyung's parents for allowing her to stay so late and when they turn he grips her tightly all but dragging her out the door. His coat blocks the treatment from view and she grunts when he swings the car door open and tosses her roughly inside.

Slamming his door shut he glares over at her, "Do you know how hard it was finding this dirty shit hole of a house? Are you befriending anyone now? This is the kind of person you've deemed worthy of being seen with, you're a Kang for God's sake!"

She swallows her angry, desperately wanting to defend Ju-Kyung but his hands curled tightly in fists make her stifle her argument. Instead she bows her head quietly, letting him spew acid dripping words at her.

"You're not allowed to come here again. My daughter can't be seen with the help."

She anxiously claws at her hands in her lap, jumping when he yells in the confined space of the car.

"Answer me now! Do you understand!"

Staring out the window she replies, voice empty.

"Yes."

He doesn't wait for her to tug on her seat belt before driving off, done talking to her since she listened to his order.

When they finally walk through the front door she flinches when he grabs her arm suddenly, he rolls his eyes as if she's being dramatic. Seeming to get gratification from pressing his fingers deeper into her skin, she grits her teeth through it all.

"Don't flinch like that around others or I'll make you regret it. Tomorrow you are going on a date with a son of a very powerful man, make sure you hide all your bruises."

This time she can't stay silent, rage bursting to the surface.

"I don't want to go on a date with anyo--"

The smack of his open palm across her forehead drives her entire head to the side, her neck snapping so hard she imagines this is what it feels like to have whiplash.

"You shut your fucking mouth! Did it look like I was asking you a question? You will go on this date." His voice is hard and impenetrable, when her mother limps out with a black eye she gasps in shock unprepared for the gruesome sight.

Mom.

"Look what you made me do to your mother. You better start obeying me again or things will get worst."

She's been selfish, she is knew what would happen to her mother when she didn't come home, knew that her father's fury would need an outlet but she couldn't bring herself to come here. Knowing what her fate would be didn't make her any else scared.

"You need to listen to your father."

She can't bear to look her mother in the eyes, she's been thrown to the wolves too many times to feel true sympathy for the woman who gave birth to her. They are both victims, that much she knows but she can't help the anger that has been present since she was young begging her mother to save her.

She knows now, nobody can save anyone else. If you can't save yourself you're as good as dead.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He knows he can't be upset with Ju-Kyung or Su-ah, they are unaware of what their friend is going through but dread fills his stomach when Ju-Kyung tells him that Sujin was no longer there, her father had picked her up.

He slams a fist into his pillow, wanting nothing more to smash the man's face in he's never seen the bastard before but he knows that he would hate him on sight. He was a coward and a bully and he could not stand those who picked on others, they were the scum of the earth.

He sends her another unanswered text message reading her last message to him.

Delete my number, I don't want to talk to you.

She hadn't been amused by the sparkly purple tiara, he'd seen it on display in a children's store and immediately her regal scowl popped up in his mind. He hadn't thought about it before snapping a photo and sending it to her. That had been hours ago and still nothing from her after a heated debate about whether or not she was a princess. 

Sighing in exasperation he sends another message.

Let me know if you're okay.

He's sent five other unread messages, all variations of this message worry making him break all his rules about texting the opposite gender.

He glares at the phone as if it's to blame, tossing himself onto this bed and dragging a pillow across his face to groan into.

Almost choking on the cloth of his pillow he shoves it away when his phone finally vibrates on his stomach, eagerly opening it he smiles at the message on the screen.

I'm okay.

She's lying, he's certain of that he's seen the bruises first-hand without makeup lessening the effect. But she's cognizant enough to send him a message and despite the hell she must be going through she cared enough about him worrying to reply, something unfamiliar flutters in his belly. He writes it off as indigestion and flops into his pillow before sending his final message to her.

I’ll see you tomorrow, princess. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He's wondering the halls aimlessly sneering at everyone who looks his way, he doesn't mean to be this moody really didn't mean to snap at Chorong but he can't help it, Sujin is absent her empty seat mocking him in class so he had to escape. He's lost count at the amount of messages he's sent at this point, none of them have been read. He growls at the radio silence, he hates being ignored and when she's the one doing the ignoring his frustration only builds. He doesn't bother analyzing why.

"You look ready to kill the next person who stares at you the wrong way."

He glances at the near monotonous tone behind him, turning to face Suho. He doesn't know how the other boy was allowed to leave the classroom when he currently has the hall pass but rules are usually broken for the star student, he scoffs at the privilege. Nobody ever calls him a troublemaker though. 

"Being a brainiac sure comes with perks." He drawls leaning against the wall.

Suho guiltlessly shrugs, crossing his forearms before grabbing his arm. He doesn't fight the grip allowing himself to be pulled, maybe this will distract him from his thoughts.

"Where are we going?"

Suho doesn't answer but he drags him up the stairs leading to the rooftop, he's instantly reminded of the last time he was here. Her tears warming his chest as she shook apart in his arms. He mentally groans, he’s supposed to be forgetting her why can’t he get her out of his mind?

"You know don't you?" Suho gently states, letting his arm fall between them and staring at him with sure eyes. He peers back squinting in response, uncertain if the other boy is truly alluding to what he thinks. He doesn't say a word, Sujin would never forgive him if he uttered her secret to anyone, he'd never betray her trust regardless of if she's fully given that to him.

"Know what?" He states slowly , watching his friend’s every move.

"About her father."

A deer caught in headlights, if you looked up that saying his face would be the accompanying image.

Forcing his jaw close, he shakes his head staring at Suho suspiciously.

"You knew."

Suho must feel his judgement because his face hardens before he looks away, "I did."

"Why didn't you do anything?" It's not his place but he can't help his vexation, how long had the other boy known and done nothing?

"We were......young. I slept over, I fell asleep on the couch and I heard him. The next morning she had a split lip and her father told me she accidentally fell down the stairs."

Disgusts winds through his chest at the story, this had been her life since she was a child. While he'd been mourning the loss of his own father, Sujin was being beaten and abused by her own. They were both fatherless.

"I felt guilty every day. I didn't know who to tell, her father was close friends with my dad and I didn't think he would believe me and...... I hated him. After my mom died I hated him so much. I didn't want to ask him for help."

He wants to scream, "What about Sujin? Couldn't you see her pain? Wasn't that enough to put your pride aside?"

But he doesn't because it won't do Sujin any good and Suho has been through his own trauma, he learned that his words have power and despite his anger he doesn't want to hurt his friend, never again.

"It's not your fault." He means it, they were both children. But he just wishes that Sujin had someone back them, that she knew that what was happening wasn't her fault. He just wishes he'd been there.

But he can't turn back time, no matter how desperately he wants to. All he can do is treasure the time he has now.

Her knows what he needs to do.

"I need a favor."

Suho stares at him before slowly nodding.

But not before asking his own question, "Why do you care so much?"

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. The question spins around in circles in his head, no answer offering itself.

"Do you..... like her?" Suho cautiously inquires searching his face to see if he gives anything away. He doesn't try to hide his emotions.

"That's not important. She needs someone, I've decided to be that person."

The other boy looks at him like he's a puzzle he can't figure out but he nods as if that answer is enough. He'll store that question away for further inspection on his own.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

There's no guarantee that this will work but he stands awkwardly on the sidewalk peering up at the intimidating mansion, it makes his own apartment look like a child's toy. Inadequacy pricks at his ego before he shoves it to the crevice of his mind, this isn't about him.

The driveway is empty that was a good sign. He hadn't thought ahead to what he would do if her father had been home, he wouldn't be able to control his rage. It's a blessing that he won't have to make that decision today.

Pulling out his phone he stares at her number before pressing the call button. It rings and rings and he's sure she's going to ignore him as she's been doing all day, he moves to hang up and call her back when he hears silence and then a quiet, "Why do you keep calling?"

He lets out a sigh of triumph, punching a fist into the air.

Collecting himself he states breezily into the phones, "When people call someone they usually have something to say princess."

Her reaction is immediate, "I told you not to call me that."

"I remember when you told me." He replies cheekily, unable to fight the smile that grows hearing her annoyance permeating through the line, just happy to hear her voice at all. 

"Then why do you keep calling me that?" She tightly replies, sounding like she could turn a coal into a diamond in her mouth.

"It suits you."

"Why? Because I'm rich and spoiled?"

"No. Because you're pretty." He hears himself say, wondering if he's been possessed because he's thought that before looking at the girl he was still a man and he had eyes but he's never planned on saying his inner thoughts out loud.

It takes a moment to realize she hasn't responded, scared she finally hung up he cries out, "Hey! Are you still there?"

Another long pause drags out and he becomes really worried that she's gone after taking so long to get her to answer, maybe everyone's right and he's an idiot.

"Don't say stupid things like that." There's something about her voice, it sounds higher than he's used to and he wonders if maybe she's embarrassed. Maybe even blushing. He'd pay real money to see that sight.

Not wanting to push his luck any further he powers on, resisting the urge to ask if she's blushing. She wouldn't be honest with him anyway.

"Come outside I have something for you."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She contemplates what she should do as she peers down at her phone. His name and number flash on her phone as the phone locks itself. She'd begrudgingly saved his number when it became clear that he had no intention of leaving her alone. Nobody besides Su-ah had ever texted her this frequently, she was earning scarily that she didn't hate it. Although she hardly replied, not knowing how to maintain a text conversation. 

Su-ah had teasingly said she should save the boy as prince, so that they could match. She rolled her eyes at the suggestion, Su-ah was so cheesy sometimes they weren't a couple why would they need matching names? Instead she'd saved him as "do not answer" but she'd already broken that rule, she realized appalled at her lack of control.

Losing more control she sighs before crawling out of bed, not bothering to put on makeup to hide the mark on her forehead, he had seen worst. Her father left after taking her to the doctor, regaling another story of her clumsiness and they walked out with cream, powerful enough to ensure that no scar would be left behind. Nobody wanted scarred goods he explained.

The closer she gets to the door the faster her heart beats, how did he know where she lived? They had never discussed that and why did he come all the way here? Didn't he have anything better to do than stalk her? Taking a calming breath she reaches the front door, she can hear her frantic heart beats thumping in her ears.

She turns the door knob, pausing at the sight of his back. The sun is shining brightly outside, the direct opposite of her gloomy dark home. It was a sin for the day to be this beautiful when her life is so damn ugly. With the sun streaking his hair hues of dark brown he turns to face her.

She feels uncomfortable at the rush on emotions that bleeds across his face.

"Don't."

He looks at her quizzically, perplexed by her strange seemingly unprovoked request.

"Just don't.. emote so much."

Of course he doesn't listen, a smile stretching across his face as he steps closer to her. Reaching out with gentle fingers he brushes against the bandage on her forehead.

"Are you okay?"

He’s always asking her that. 

She doesn't feel like lying at the moment, not with his gentle hands and soft eyes beaming at her.

She mutely shakes her head in decline. She doesn't miss how he freezes as if shocked by her honesty. He's not the only one.

"Is that why you didn't come to school?" His voice is barely a whisper now, as if they're sharing a secret only for their ears.

It's a question that doesn't need an answer so she chooses not to respond.

"What did you want to give me?" She breaks the moment, taking a step back until his fingers fall from her skin.

He stares at her for a moment before leaning forward, dangerously close and she tries to retreat but her feet are stuck to the floor as she watches his face get closer to her own. His hands reach over her shoulder and she tilts her head up to follow him, as he lowers his head and her heart skips as realization washes over her, he's going to kiss her. His lips are right there, supple and pink looming closer as her own drop open in surprise and....anticipation? She registers that he's going to kiss her and she might want him to. No. She does, she never knew she wanted this so ardently until it was just a breath away. And now she can't think of anything else but his lips on hers.

She's never been kissed before, never wanted to be either. In second grade and unlucky boy had tried to force a kiss on her, chasing her around the playground puckering his lips and tugging at her skirt. He'd only been able to kiss the sole of her shoe has she launched into a perfectly executed round house kick, shocking him more than hurting him but she'd been placed in time out for a week with no playtime or recess, she had felt no remorse. All the other boys who used to eye her with interest now looked terrified after that incident, no one ever tried to steal a kiss from her again.

She waits for her body's natural defense to kick in and for that itch under her skin to buzz, but it never comes because she doesn't feel unsafe. Knows that he won't hurt her despite her constant dismissal here he is, once again demanding a space in her sham of life. Instead of fear, nerves ravages her body as she  pants loudly staring at his mouth only inches away. Is she allowed to want? She's never had the luxury before to desire such trivial things, it overwhelms her. Shocked by her own thinking and the dawning of feelings she didn't ask to have, she scurries backwards covering her mouth with her hands. Now that she knows that she desires this, she can't have it. She can't taint him with her darkness.

"What are you doing?"

He's smirking with a bag now in his hand intensely watching her and she feels transparent, he's looking straight through her and urge to hide is overbearing.

Turning around she sees his motorcycle and she almost laughs at her unnecessary mental break down.

He hadn't been trying to kiss her. That was merely a fantasy she created in her mind, whatever this was it wasn't romantic. Who could want something as broken and worthless as her, but more importantly her life was not her own to do what she desired. She was an object in her father's plan, a pawn that he could move as he saw fit. It was a mistake to yearn or even ponder, her fate had been decided long before she was born. 

She shouldn't be here, should have never read his message or saved his number she's playing a dangerous game and in the end she'll be the one most damaged. She turns away, rushing to the door no longer curious about his gift. Curiosity is a privilege she isn't allowed.

"Hey! Where are you going?" He grabs her wrist, not scared to touch today. Her body is burning from all the spots he's already set aflame since he arrived.

"Let go!" She tugs her arm away and he sets her free at her barest resistance, but he leaves no space between towering over her and refusing to let her break eye contact. His cologne is distracting. Everything about him is.

"What were you expecting?" She fights the urge to blush as he glances down at her lips before focusing on her eyes.

"Nothing. I wasn’t expecting anything.” She will ensure that she doesn’t in the future, it’s not a lie but rather an oath to herself. 

He stares at her unblinking, its unnerving and she squirms under the hard appraisal. 

“Don’t you want to see your gift?” She shakes her head no, but it seems the question was rhetoric because he doesn’t wait for her answer or acknowledge when she refuses.  

“I told you this reminded me of you.” He purrs softly, she’s never heard his voice like this. It’s so soft that it can barely be considered a whisper, he always acts like she is something fragile. She doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

There's a rustle of a bag opening and then a weight on her head, reaching up she feels hard plastic and ridges and bumps. She knows what it is and she doesn't know how to respond, nothing has ever prepared her for this moment. She’d hidden it well while sitting in Ju-Kyung’s room looking at the child’s tiara, pretended to be annoyed to cover up the way her skin was sticky hot and sweaty. 

When she was younger she had wanted a princess birthday party, with all the trimmings and decorations her eyes sparkled as she told her parents still full of hope and innocence then, believing that she could have anything she wanted if she asked. Her father’s guffaw had shattered that fantasy. 

“We will not have a childish gathering, very important people will be there. You are not going to embarrass me.” 

In the end there was no theme to her birthday and she didn’t get to wear the sparkling tiara she’d seen so many other little girls don on their birthday, she had no friends to invite and she sat alone and abandoned in her room. 

And now, years later there is almost an identical replica sitting on her head. She sniffles looking hard at the ground, blinking rapidly but knowing it’s already too late. 

“I told you to stop. Why won’t you listen? Just stop.” She’s crying now, there’s no way to hide the tears barreling down her cheeks. He looks taken back, hands reaching out for her and then dropping before reaching again. 

“Sujin.”

Hearing him say her name instead of the persistent nickname only makes her sob harder, crying for the younger version of herself that just wanted to be loved and was beaten everyday instead. Wishing that Sujin had this, had someone who was willing to stay, who wanted to be there. She wouldn’t have dealt with such crippling loneliness. 

“I have to go back inside.” She turns to unlock her door, scared of him and everything building between them. 

He doesn’t stop her this time, she can feel his eyes heavy on her back and she halts when he calls out. 

“Just.....don’t ignore my messages okay?”

She inhales, wiping at the wet sheet of tears on her face. She should ignore him, he is “do not answer” for a reason. 

She nods slowly, “I won’t.” The scariest part is that she means it. 

“Good. Come to school tomorrow, it’s boring without you.” 

She doesn’t reply and closes the door without turning back, using it has support when her legs finally give out inside. All of her strength suddenly depleted. 

She walks straight to her room, sitting at her large vanity looking back at a reflection of a girl she can't recognize.

The purple tiara sits ridiculously on top of her head, all flashy plastic rhinestones and glitter, something out of a child's dream. Her dream.  She brings one trembling finger to touch it and without her permission her face breaks into a smile, it's small and fleeting but accompanied with the rosy blush on her cheeks she stares in shock at the face that looks so much like her but can't be.

"Who are you?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Seojun slips on his helmet roughly, he plans on texting her and making sure she keeps her promise. His heart is still recovering from her reaction to retrieving the gift, it was apparent she assumed something else was occurring. It almost looked like she thought he was going to kiss her but she hadn’t moved away, not right away. Did that mean..... 

The engine of a sounds behind him shocks him out of his dangerous inklings and he twists his head to see sleek SUV pulling into the hidden garage, the metallic door lifting up to house the vehicle. He doesn’t move, eyes locked on the car. Hands tightening on the armbars he waits impatiently but determined. When the door finally opens and an older man steps out, shorter than him with salt and pepper hair and glasses on his weathered face his blood boils all at once. 

“Can I help you? Do you have business here?” 

Taking a deep grounding breath, he slides a leg over his motorcycle and revs it to life the rumbling engine calming his homicidal thoughts. 

He will never forget this face, he looks like a normal middle-aged man nothing revealing the evil that lurks inside. Menacingly he slowly raises his hand, extending his pointer and lifting his thumb, darkly satisfied when a look of surprise flashes on the older man's face.

"Bang." He pulls back his finger sharply, and now the man is walking angrily towards him but he's ready for this and he twists the throttle and speeds off.

You're not going to hurt her anymore, I'll make sure if it.

The bike thundering beneath him echoes the powerful intent in his mind.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Her father’s pounding on her door shocked her so much the tiara fell off her head as she jolted, she'd carefully picked it up and hid it in a draw fiercely protective of the object already. She knew she shouldn’t keep it but she can’t imagine throwing it away. 

Just for a little bit. 

"You're meeting someone tomorrow, you'll go right after school. Stop at a store and buy an outfit, something fitting for a date. His father is someone I need on my side, don't mess this up."

She'd sat numb at her father's callous words, he clearly had no issue using his only child to gain favors from others.

"Oh and one more thing, I saw some delinquent outside he even threatened me. You better not know who that punk is. If I ever see him around here again I'll call the police."

That comment has been replaying in her mind all day, he shouldn't have come over yesterday and she shouldn't have humored him by going outside. She kept forgetting rationality around him and it would get them both in danger, her father had all but promised that.

After some careful consideration, she decides to seek him out because school is the safest place they can interact without her father knowing.

He's not in the classroom and she tries to think about where else the boy might be, he's usually never too far from her and she realizes that she hasn't seen him today besides their morning classes. He'd seemed distant then, barely looking at her before drooping off to sleep.

After searching the entire school she's no closer to finding the boy and she sighs in exasperation, why is he so elusive today when she commonly can't get him to leave her alone?

Pulling out her phone, she hesitates for a second before mustering the courage.

Where are you?

Staring at the message she clicks the heel of her shoe, watching the message change from delivered and to read. Her stomach clenches as she waits to see his response, maybe he's already tired of her and finally decided to listen to her advice?

Hating the way her heart thumps in anticipation she moves to pocket her phone but before she can complete the movement, it vibrates to life in her hand.

She freezes.

It's foolish because she sent the first message and she's looking for him but now she's too nervous to check her phone.

Thinking of the soothing beating of his heart on that day, she feels her own heart calming.

Feeling fortified, she lifts the phone and with a sigh opens the message.

In the gym. Why? You miss me?

Is this what this emotion is? This gnawing feeling in her chest when she couldn't find him, it can't be right? They are nothing to each other, correction she's nothing to him.

So no, she can’t miss him. 

She clears her thoughts as she walks to the gym, wondering why she never considered looking there.

Sweat and musk clings in the air when she presses the double doors open and all eyes shift to her instantly, slipping on her mask she suppresses the nerves lurking behind her placid stare.

Meeting his eyes across the room, she can't help but notice how sweaty he looks his fringe sticking to his forehead and a droplet rolls down his forearm. Swallowing deeply she closes the gap between them, peering up at him. Discomforted at the way she feels when he slowly smiles at her.

"We need to talk." She doesn't wait for his answer, grabbing his wrist and tugging him from the room. Pretending she doesn't feel all the eyes watching their every movement, everyone needs to just mind their own business.

When they're outside, away from the audience she releases his arm. His heat warming her own cool palm. Suddenly he grabs her hand, twisting them and stroking at the raw shredded skin.

She snatches her hand away harshly, glaring at him. But his angry stare douses her own, a thick vein protrudes from his forehead.

"Did he do this to you? He growls, his fists tightening into balls again.

She stares at him in confusion, unprepared for the level of frustration he's exuding.

Feeling like honestly will be the best thing she shakes her head in decline, "No. I did this to myself."

Disgust. Malice. Contempt. She waits for any of those emotions to cover his face but he's never logical.

"Why?"

Concern. Always genuine concern.

She's never thought of the reason behind her strange compulsion, the desire to wash her hands overwhelming at times.

She's not ready to ponder the psychosis of her actions, not with him and not with herself.

"Did you see my father yesterday?" She changes the topic, regaining control over the conversation before he derails it too far off track.

His lips twists illustrating his displeasure at her obvious attempt to dodge his question but he looks away before replying.

"Yes. After you left, I saw him."

"Did he see your face?"

His eyes dart over her face, as he's searching for an answer to a question only he knows. 

Slowly he drawls, "No. I had my helmet on. He didn't see me."

The same moment she releases a sigh of relief he cheekily asks, "Were you worried about me?"

Staring at his smirking face she feels her anger flare back to life passionately.

“Do you think this is a joke? He can destroy you! Stop acting without thinking about the consequences!” She whispers harshly at him, very aware of their precarious situation in the hallway and how easily rumors can spread in this god forsaken school. 

“You are worried about me.” He looks even more pleased as he nods smugly. 

“Are you insane? Did you listen to a word I said. Seojun, this isn’t a joke!” 

He steps closer, eyes harden sharply like someone flipped a switch. “You don’t need to worry about me. He can’t do anything to me, I’m going to protect you.”

Protect her. No one has ever uttered those words to her, and she lets them wash over her before rejecting them, sneering at him with contempt at his brazen claim she says, “Stop saying nonsense. You need to worry about yourself.” 

She walks away with her heart firmly lodged in her throat. 

I’m going to protect you. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ju-Kyung and Su-ah are disappointed when she tells them that she can’t go with them for tteokbokki but they don’t ask her too many questions, easily believing her lie about going to night classes. She hates lying to them but there’s no way to explain what she’s doing without exposing too much about her father. 

She rushes out of the school thankfully running into no one, not even a certain nosy shadow. He’s shrouded by his friends and girls who swoon at the sight of him looking in disdain she leaves the school, reminding herself this is how it’s supposed to be. 

The boutique is expensive, a store associate greeting her at the door and showing her around immediately as if she can smell the money on her. She couldn’t care less about what she wears and she informs the clerk to choose whatever she thinks is appropriate for a date, the word poisonous on her tongue. It’s her first date and it’s with someone she has no amorous feelings for, someone she has never even met before. She walks out of the store with her uniform folded neatly in a bag as she decided to walk out in the new outfit. The clerk had chosen a soft lilac dress with chiffon ruffles lining the hem and shoulders, paired with a white heels and a matching bag. She allowed it because it felt nothing like her, she would have never chosen this for a date and that made her feel like she got to keep a little bit of herself, he wouldn’t be getting the real her. 

She checks the address on her phone once more, walking to the street corner to hail a cab feeling like she’s off to an execution. 

But that’s when she hears a feminine cry, looking around frantically she sees a young girl across the street surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves, high school boys. They are all laughing and rowdy, seemingly unbothered by the terrified wide gaze of their supposed prey. The cab driver beeps his horn at her impatiently and she ignores it, instinctively making her decision. Running across the street with no thought of her own safety, she smacks away a dirty paw that is reaching out for the trembling girl, her eyes made larger by the huge glasses resting on the bridge of her pert nose. She seems oddly familiar. 

“What are you scum bags doing?” She steps in front of the girl shielding her from their unwanted attention. 

They all cheer and holler, turning to jostle each other as if they have been given a gift. 

With a smarmy smile, one of the boys steps forward pursuing her body with hungry eyes, “Well look here boys, we caught an ever better catch. Look at this sexy little thing.” 

He grabs his palms together as they all shout in agreement and when she feels a hand on her wrist, she twists away pulling herself out her reach and swiftly kicks him in the knee he falls to the ground with a grunt of pain. 

“What the fuck! You bitch!” He curses at her and another boy lunges forward to grab her but she easily ducks out of his reach and punches in in the chest. The other boys watch in clear astonishment, slowly retreating from her with their hands outreached trying to placate her. 

“Hey, hey we’re sorry we were just messing with her. We’re going okay, calm down.” 

But then she feels a hand on her ankle and she turns to dig her sharp heel into the offending hand, his scream of pain ringing pleasantly in her ears. 

“Get out of my sight before I break your face.” 

They all rush to follow her order, picking up their fallen friends on the ground hurling more curses in her direction but leaving with their tails between their legs, pathethic little vermin. 

“Are you okay?” She turns to the younger girl with gentle eyes, looking over her body for any injuries and relaxing when she sees nothing out of place. 

“Ye-s-s.” She stutters out looking at her with something akin to wonder and awe in her eyes, she shifts uncomfortably under the stare. She isn’t anyone’s hero, she just did what anyone would do. 

“Okay. Get home safely. “ She starts to walk away but then a small hand grips her forearm, turning back with curious eyes she looks at the other girl waiting for her to explain. 

“Thank you. This is the second time you’ve saved me.” 

She looks at the other girl in confusion, taking in her face and those glasses and suddenly the memory resurfaces in her mind. The girl’s bathroom and all those jealous girls ganging up on her, breaking her down because she was better than them she hated those people the worst. Bullies that were so insecure that they lashed out and tried to hurt others, she had grown up seeing one her whole life. 

“That was you.”

“You’re always saving me. Thank you so much.’ 

Shaking her head she replies, “I wasn’t the one who saved you that day. It as Ju-Kyung, I only came at the end. You don’t need to thank me.” 

But the other girl ignores her and begins to bow deeply repeating her words of gratitude, she reaches out to bring her back up. 

“Stop. You don’t need to do this.” 

“Do you want to get some coffee?” She blinks at the sudden question, blinking and then staring some more. 

“I just feel so grateful to you, I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t come. You’ve helped me so much, it’s the least I can do. Please.” 

She checks her watch discretely, there is still some time before her “date” and looking at the round pleading eyes of the girl she feels her resolve weaken, sighing she goes against her good sense and nods. 

“Okay, we can get some coffee. But I have another.....engagement.” She struggles to find the correct word for the sham of a date and settles on that. She would much rather call it a business transaction but that would yield too many questions. 

The young girl beams at her, animatedly dragging her off her excited voice sweet and high as she praises a nearby coffee shop. 

“My Oppa works there, he can give us free coffee!” She states with youthful entitlement evident in her tone, she has no doubt that she will be given what she wants. It must be nice. 

The coffee shop is a quaint spot, she’s never noticed it before despite being in this area before. A bell rings announcing their arrival and they both walk up to the register. 

“Oppa! I’m here!” The girl calls out, leaning easily across the counter with no sense of decency, there are no other customers in the store though so there’s no one to judge her and Sujin finds her behavior oddly cute, she’s quite the ball of energy. 

“Oh, you’re here?” 

A chill runs down her spine. She knows that voice. But it can’t be? 

But life isn’t done making a mockery of her yet because Seojun turns around, coffee pot in his hand looking...interesting in his uniform she takes the image in greedily before forcing her eyes away. 

“Can we have free coffee? This is my unnie Kang Sujin.” 

“Unnie?” They both cry at the same time and the younger girl immediately grabs onto her arm, huge puppy eyes penetrating her face. “Can I call you unnie? You already saved me two times. I feel like you’re my guardian angel.” 

She stands shocked by the girl’s admission but before the words are finished processing in her foggy mind, Seojun shouts out looking murderous “Saved you? Did someone try to bully you again? Who is it? I’ll kill them.” 

Unsure of who she should reply to she just stares at them both like a fish on land. floundering around. They are both such forces of nature. 

“I’m fine Oppa.” She watches the girl roll her eyes as if his behavior is common and something to be peeved about, “These boys were trying to bother me but unnie came and beat them up! It was like something out of a movie, they all ran away crying.” The girl tries to demonstrate the moves waving her arms and legs around wildly, almost knocking the coffee cup from her brother’s hand. 

“Hey!” He yells in warning, moving the hot pot away. “Be careful before you hurt yourself.” 

The younger girl looks chastised for merely a second before she’s announcing she needs to use the bathroom and running off, leaving them alone to stare after her. 

Awkward silence remains in the wake of her departure. 

She’s tempted to run away, he is the last person she wants to see right now. 

“You really did that? For Go-woon ah?” His voice is soft, almost shy. For once he isn’t the same self-assured Seojun she’s used to see, he looks younger and the resemblance between the siblings is uncanny now with him looking at her with the same look of awe, his little sister had just minutes ago. 

“I.....yes I helped her. They were idiots, I did for myself. They were an eye sore.” 

But despite her dismissal, he smiles-toothy and ridiculously charming. It’s almost painful to look at, he shouldn’t be allowed to smile like that. 

She stares at him lost in his smile and when he reaches out to grasp her hand, she doesn’t fight it helplessly leaning closer to meet him over the counter, their eyes are locked as the space between them shortens, their bodies moving as if they’re opposite ends of a magnet. 

“Thank you for helping my sister.” He breathes out, his deep voice smooth and airy suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room. He rubs a thumb across the expanse of her hand, and she forgets to be self-conscious and simply enjoys the tender caress. 

“Oppa! Can we get free coffee or not? Why aren’t you making it?” Go-woon’s loud voice shatters the intimate moment as they both fly apart, she moves halfway across the room in her shock. 

Go-woon looks between them both suspiciously, “Did I interrupt something? You both look guilty.” 

“No!” They shout in sync again, Sujin groans realizes that this probably only serves at making them look even more guilty. Go-woon’s mischievous eyes confirm her thoughts. 

“I’ll make your coffee. You can both have a seat.” 

Go-woon starts to walk away to find a table, but she checks her watch again realizing she doesn’t have much time left if she’s going to be on time, she has to leave now. 

“Can I have mine to go? I have to be somewhere and I’m almost late.” 

Then Go-woon chirps in, “Me too oppa! I just realized I have to start a project, I should go home.” 

He stares at them both blankly before shifting his gaze to Sujin, “Where are you going?” He asks finally taking in her outfit, his gaze starting on her face and boldly sliding down her figure. His stare is hot enough to burn. 

Go-woon giggles answering for her, “Oppa look at her, come on. it’s clear she’s going on a date. Boys really don’t know anything.” 

She blanches as how easily the young girl is able to correctly assess the situation, she hadn’t thought it would be that easy to see. 

Seojun’s eyes harden as he turns away, staring at the coffee brewer as it works. He grabs two cups and pours the dark hot liquid in, before adding milk and a syrup and a layer of whipped cream on top. Go-woon hums happily clearly this is her preference as he hadn’t asked her how she wanted her coffee. 

He silently hands the cups to them both. His face is blank and unreadable vast difference from the beatific smile he had blessed her with earlier. She feels as if she has done something wrong, but she has no clue what that is. 

“Go straight home and don’t talk to anyone. Call me when you get home alright?”  

Go-woon is barely listening to him instead she’s happily licking at the thick layer of cream on her cup cooing at the sweetness. 

“Unnie, thank you again. I hope you enjoy your date, I’ll see you at school!” She suddenly has an armful of Go-woon before the girl is bounding out the door with only a “Bye oppa” to her brother thrown over her shoulder. 

“You haven’t said it’s not true yet?” 

She turns back to look at him, tilting her head lightly before sipping from her cup. She’s never had coffee this sweet, but it’s delicious so she takes another sip humming at the flavor. 

He looks away for a moment, his chest expanding deeply before he turns back to her. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Your date. That you have a date, is that true?”

She raises an eyebrow at this straightforwardness, gone in the shy boy she only saw for a minute and this is the Seojun she is familiar with. 

“I didn’t.”  She agrees. 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s true. I am going on a date.” 

During the conversation he started wiping down the already pristine counter but at her words his hand freezes and she watches his fist tighten in the wash cloth he ultimately throws it to the side to direct all his focus on her now, no longer nonchalant and unbothered.  

“With who? Do you like him?” 

She laughs meanly at his question, “You’re so naïve to my world. A date is just another business transaction, he is the son of someone my father needs on his side. I’m his peace offering.” 

“What?” He barks loudly, looking like he wants to hurt someone. She can imagine who that person might be. 

“Don’t get attached to me. My life isn’t mine to live.” She says tired of this discussion and all the feelings he has brought to the surface. Lifting her coffee cup she bids him farewell, “Thank you for the coffee.” 

She doesn’t give him a chance to reply, already knows what he’s going to say but he doesn’t understand everything isn’t as black and white as he keeps assuming they are he needed a reality check, so she provided one. 

Once on the sidewalk she checks her phone, she only has twenty minutes to spare. She can’t afford to wait for a cab so she opens the cab service app, entering the address and sighing in relief when the ETA says that she will arrive in fifteen minutes. Accepting the charge and confirming her location she sighs before lowering her phone, waiting. 

But then she feels arms curl around her shoulder, bringing her back into a solid surface she almost fights the sudden embrace until he whispers in the side of her head, “Don’t go.” 

She tries to pull away but he only holds her tighter, his arms are strong as he holds her firmly against his body. His warmth soaks into her skin and the urge to fight melts away as she relaxes into his embrace, he smells like the deep roast he had poured for them and something inexplicably Seojun that can’t be described with mere words. 

“Stop,” She pleads with him, she has to go even if the idea of going on a date with someone else makes her sick to her stomach. 

Someone else. Where did that come from? Did that mean that she wanted to go on a date with Seojun? 

She can’t answer that question, doesn’t want to deal with the reality. 

“No. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Sujin, don’t go.” 

She shivers as his words curl around her just as warm and tempting as his arms around her shoulders. 

“Why are you doing this?” She demands, her eyes already filling up with tears of frustration she’d convinced herself she had to do this, let herself be used. It was easier this way to listen to her father. But he’s making everything hard and she needs to know why he cares. 

“Why do you care who I go on a date with? Why are you doing this?” She screams into the air, deflating into his arms after her tantrum. Letting him brunt the entirety of her weight, he doesn’t even budge easily holding her up. He shifts his body, bringing his chin onto her head and holding her tighter, leaving no space between them. 

“Isn’t it obvious by now princess?” 

She opens her mouth to berate him, not that damn nickname again. He seriously needed to stop that before she got accustomed to it even now instead of annoyance a foreign emotion rose up inside of her. 

“I told you to stop calling me tha--” 

“I like you.” 

The breath is punched from her lungs and her head swims with his words and she has no retort, no quick rebuttal, nothing. He has left her utterly and devastatedly speechless. 

[drabbles-mc]

Protective Detail (2/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of bruising

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Y’all I’ve gotten really into writing this fic. I know for chapter one I said semi-slow burn but upon further consideration I’m upgrading this to just straight-up slow burn. I’m not sorry. Enjoy some Nestor banter xo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sillygoose6969​ @mydaiilyescape​ @lovebennycolon​ (As always if you wanna be updated on future chapters of this, or notified about any of my other writing, let me know!)

(Threw together my own little fic header because why not?)

You woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee. You smiled to yourself as you sat up and stretched in your bed, taking a few moments to collect yourself before you left your room to see what Nestor had gotten into. You padded down the hall and peeked into the kitchen to see a full pot of coffee sitting on the counter. You smiled as you walked over and poured yourself a cup before scooping an unhealthy amount of sugar and pouring creamer into it.

You heard Nestor from the living room, “You gonna have any coffee with all that cream and sugar?”

You looked over to him with a small smile, “I only drink it for the caffeine. Let me guess, you don’t put anything in yours.”

“That’s right,” he lifted his mug slightly.

You rolled your eyes, “You one of those guys who tries to protect the integrity of the coffee?”

He smirked, shaking his head, “No, I just hate creamer,” there was a pause before he asked, “So what’re you doing today?”

“Nothing until this afternoon. I work at the bar today,” you saw surprise cross his face for a brief moment and you laughed, “Some of us have to have regular day jobs, Nestor.”

He shook his head, “I know your father, I believe there is very little you have to do.”

“I have to have a personal security detail,” you shot back before taking another sip of your coffee.

He chuckled, “Well. That’s an upgrade from calling me your babysitter.”

“Well, I guess I should have asked first, am I still allowed to go to work?” you asked, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He sighed, “I told you, I don’t make the rules. Your father didn’t say that you can’t. So, yes, until further notice.”

“How kind of him,” you shook your head slightly. You looked over at Nestor, wondering how he had the energy so early in the morning to put himself together so nicely, “You might as well sleep in your dress clothes.”

He shook his head, fighting back a smile, “No, they’d get wrinkled.”

For most of the morning, Nestor stayed quietly out of your way. He was on his laptop for a little while, and you were trying not to stare as you milled about your house cleaning and getting ready for work. Every now and then you could catch him glancing at you as you strolled around and you tried to ignore it.

Once it was time to leave, you snatched your keys off of the table and looked over at Nestor, who was pulling on his jacket. He looked at you, saw the keys dangling from your fingers, and let out a small sigh. He didn’t say anything as he headed towards the front door, holding it open for you.

“If you’re really that petrified after this drive, I won’t make you suffer through it anymore,” you laughed as you walked out the front door.

When the two of you pulled into the parking lot of the bar, Nestor wordlessly held out his hand for you to give him the keys. You laughed, shaking your head, “I was not that bad. Don’t be such a baby,” you opened your door, keeping the keys to yourself, “How am I supposed to trust you to protect me if you can’t even handle a little speeding?”

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head as he also got out of the car. You locked it and started walking towards the entrance, Nestor close behind you. Before you got to the door, though, you stopped and turned to him, “So, are you just going to lurk around for my entire shift?”

“I have to stay with you.”

You huffed, “That’s going to look so creepy though.”

He simply shrugged and gestured for you to walk inside. With a heavy sigh you complied. You walked to the back to get ready for your shift, leaving Nestor to his own devices. He took a seat at the bar and looked around, trying to get a decent grasp on his surroundings. He wasn’t quite sure what kind of bar you worked at, but he wasn’t expecting what he had walked into. It wasn’t a rough bar by any means, but it also wasn’t as upscale as he was probably used to after working with the Galindo family for so long. You were interested to see how he handled everything.

You came back out and set a glass of beer in front of him. He looked at you, confused, and you rolled your eyes with a small smile, “It’ll look less creepy if you’re sitting there and at least pretending that you’re here to drink.”

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a slight nod as he slid the glass closer to himself and taking a small sip out of it. You chuckled to yourself and shook your head as you walked away. The afternoon was starting off slow, as it usually did. That was fine by you, but it definitely made Nestor’s permanent presence a little more noticeable.

A couple hours into your shift, the owner of the bar pulled you into the back to talk to you, slight concern showing on her face, “You know that guy at the bar?”

You nodded, not sure how you were going to navigate the conversation, “Yea, he’s with me.”

“Do I get to know why he’s camping out in my bar?”

You sighed—the only upside being that your boss knew your father. She didn’t know a whole lot, but she knew enough to know that he was a powerful ally to have. “Family stuff,” you finally said, “My dad wants him around to keep me outta trouble.”

“Should I be worried?” she looked at the bruise on your cheek.

You shook your head, “No, I’m good. He’s overreacting. And to be fair, I told Nestor people were going to think he’s a creep if he just sits there all night,” you chuckled.

You saw some of the tension disappear from your boss’s face as she let out a laugh, “Least you tried to warn him,” she nudged your shoulder, “He’s cute. There are worse faces to get stuck looking at all the time, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, “He was hired to protect me, I’m not going to spend all of my time gawking at him.”

“Sure, he’s there to protect you, but who will protect you from falling in love with him?” she batted her eyelashes dramatically with a laugh, “You’re basically the star in a really niche romance movie.”

“Alright, I’m done with this conversation,” you laughed, but you could feel your face started to heat up, “Can I go back to doing my job?”

She smiled, “Sure. But if he starts scaring away customers, you’ll have to tell him to go and sit in the car or something.”

You raised one eyebrow, “You can be the one to have that conversation with him.”

“You think I won’t?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “I know you will, and I need to be there to see it when it happens.”

She gave you a gentle nudge back out onto the main floor of the bar and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the mental image that you were conjuring up in your head of how it would look to see her get in Nestor’s face. Jade wasn’t a large woman, in fact she was a little shorter than you, but she carried herself with the confidence of a woman who had spent most of her adult life making sure drunk and belligerent men didn’t too out of hand. There weren’t many situations that scared her. She was older than you, but no one would’ve been able to tell at first glance—not letting little shit stress her out had definitely slowed her aging process. Between that and her long, wavy hair that cascaded down her back, she was the picture of youth. You had always admired the way that she carried herself, and you were almost hoping that she was going to have the opportunity to tell Nestor to hit the bricks.

As the night got busier, it was easier for Nestor to blend in. He mixed in well with the after-work crowd—it was a lot of men and women in their business attire. The later the night got, the more you could see him start to get antsy. A couple times you had walked over to him to tell him that he could wait outside if he was sick of being there, but he would just shake his head and wave you off. A couple times you reminded him that a little bit of a smile would go a long way in toning down the scary and creepy vibes he was giving off. He’d force one for you for a few moments before he went back to his usual passive expression, and you’d laugh every time the fake grin would fall from his face.

Jade had also gotten less annoyed with his presence as the night went on. You were fairly convinced it was only because she thought that he was attractive, not that you could blame her. You were still holding onto the hope that one of these nights she would tell him to get out. The amusement of that mental image made you smile every time it crossed your mind.

Once everyone had left except for Nestor, Jade told you both to head home. You reassured her that you could stay and help clean up, not wanting to leave her to close all by herself. She waved you off, reassuring you that her husband was already on his way to pick her up and she was definitely going to rope him into helping.

“I’ll help at least until he gets here,” you told her, not feeling comfortable leaving her alone.

“I’m letting you go early for your friend, not so much for you,” she laughed.

You smiled, shaking your head, “Listen, the man is being paid to spend time with me. He’s got it made—he can keep his spot at the bar for a little while longer.”

It only took her husband about twenty minutes to get there, and once he walked in, she all but pushed both you and Nestor out the door, “Bring a book, or sudoku or something next time,” she called after him. He didn’t say anything but he did smile and wave goodnight to her.

The two of you reached the car and Nestor looked at you, trying to figure out if you were going to let him drive home. You shook your head slightly before unlocking the doors and sliding into the driver’s seat. You could see it on his face that he wanted to argue with you, but he kept his thoughts to himself as he dropped into the passenger seat beside you.

“We can take turns,” you said as you reversed out of your parking spot.

“Hm?”

You smiled as you pulled out onto the road, “Driving. I’ll drive my car and you can drive yours. We can take turns.”

He didn’t say anything as he rested his head back against the seat, keeping his eyes on the road. You had to assume, though, that the fact that he didn’t argue with you meant that he was fine with the new plan. At least it meant that he’d be able to drive some of the time.

“So,” you started as you unlocked the front door of your house, “How long do I have to go without an attempt on my life before you can be released back into Galindo Land?”

He chuckled as he walked in before you, wanting to check the house first, “It’s only been two days. My company really that bad?”

You hung by the door, allowing him to do his search, “Let’s be real, Nestor, this isn’t what either of us would really call company.”

He returned to the doorway and gestured for you to walk inside, satisfied with the safety level of your home. You walked over to the kitchen and opened the freezer, contemplating which pint of ice cream you were going to dig into. You grabbed a spoon and popped the top off your container of rocky road.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you pointed your spoon at him, “you don’t need to be doing chores around here, you know,” you gestured to the clean dishes.

He shrugged, “I was up…no point in not doing them.”

“I appreciate it, but still. You don’t have to,” you tilted the ice cream towards him, “Want a bite?”

He laughed and shook his head as he sat down on the couch, “I’m alright, thank you.”

You shrugged as you plopped down next to him, “Suit yourself.”

You could feel him staring at you, wondering why you felt the need to sit right next to him. You purposely ignored him as you scrolled, trying to find a TV show you felt like watching. He sighed, leaning away from you slightly and onto the arm rest of the couch. You smiled to yourself, spoon sticking out of your mouth. 

It was starting to get late when he looked over at you and asked, “Mind if I use your shower?”

For a moment you thought about making a smart remark about forcing him to live with you and not granting him access to the shower, but instead you settled on, “Had you pegged as more of a bubble bath guy,” you made yourself laugh, “But yea sure, go for it. Just don’t use the shampoo in the blue bottle, that’s just mine.”

He stood up and made his way down the hall, “I’ll be sure to avoid that.”

You peaked over the top of the couch and watched him disappear into the guest room, only to walk back out a few moments later with a change of clothes and a towel draped over his arm. He saw you looking at him and gave you a look that asked why you were staring.

“Water gets super hot super fast, so be careful,” you said without bothering to look away.

“Got it,” he slowly walked into the bathroom, waiting for you to look away but it didn’t happen. Once the door shut behind him you let out a laugh and returned your attention to the television.

When he came back out into the living room, he was back in the same set of clothes that you had seen him in the previous night. Maybe it was because you were so used to seeing him in dress shirts and slacks, but you definitely preferred the more comfortable aesthetic on Nestor. You bit back a laugh as he made a point to sit in the recliner instead of on the couch where he could get smothered by you again. He took his laptop out of his bag and began working on something, not that you would ever be able to figure out what.

“Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t look up from his laptop, “You can ask. Won’t promise I’ll answer.”

You smiled to yourself, “So do you, like, live with Miguel and Emily when you’re not being loaned out to me?”

He looked over at you, shaking his head slightly, “No. I only stay there if things are getting tense and he thinks he needs to have the extra support around the clock.”

You nod, “So you have your own place?”

He paused, searching your face for a moment before giving a simple, “Yes,” and going back to whatever he had been typing.

“Like a house? Or an apartment?”

He didn’t meet your gaze, instead keeping his eyes trained on his computer screen, “Why does that matter?”

You shrug despite the fact that he’s not looking at you, “I’m just nosey. Indulge me!” you laugh.

He shook his head but you can see it in his eyes that he’s trying not to smile, “That’s not information you need to know.”

“Oh come on,” you flopped onto the other end of the couch so you were closer to the chair that he was sitting in, “You get to know everything about my life. I can’t even know if you live in a house?”

He finally looked up at you, “I know everything about you because I have to. What need could you have for knowing that about me?”

“I’ll add it to my pile of Nestor Notes. It’ll go right on top of won’t listen to music in the car and doesn’t like not being the driver.”

He shook his head and went back to his work without another word. You sat there looking at him for a few moments before finally giving in and refocusing on your show. Every now and then you swore you could feel his eyes on you but you weren’t going to risk looking to see if you were right.

[fantasylandfanfiction]

Untitled - Chapter 1

Hi. I'm a writer trying to get back into the habit of writing every day so I decided to start a fan fiction for Joel Miller and an original character. I don't really know where it's going yet, but then again, that's half the fun. It's Untitled for now, but when I come up with a title I will update the tags and headers.

___________________________________________________________

When Tommy’s brother came into Jackson for the first time, I didn’t know they were related.

I had my guard up because it felt weird to me that Tommy and Maria would risk letting some unknown into the closed community and destroying what we’d worked so hard to build over the past year.

Don’t get me wrong. Jackson was growing. New people, new families, were coming in every single day. But I felt that our precautions for vetting newcomers had become a little lax over the past month or so, and I had been meaning to express my concerns to Tommy about it, but I hadn’t had the chance.

Then I see him walking in with some kid and this rough looking guy who I wouldn’t have trusted as far as I could throw.

Next thing I know Tommy’s loaning him horses, giving him free will to leave the community whenever he pleased.

He could’ve been running off and feeding information to a mob of hunters for all I goddamn knew.

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the way Tommy just included him by default into all matters of the town so quickly and I didn’t like how quiet and reserved he was. It made me crazy how nobody else seemed to find him shady at all. I needed to tell Tommy what a mistake I thought he’d made.

One day, around mid-morning, Mister newcomer decided he would be taking one of the horses out, all saddled up with a shotgun and precious ammunition, to go “hunting”.

I happened to be scouting on the wall that day, so I let him out.

“Be back before sundown,” he informed me like I gave a fuck about whether or not he returned.

I nodded to the boys down by the gate, signalling to them to open up the wooden barricades to let him through.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful which was fine by me. It meant I was able to be present when Tommy’s brother returned dragging a deer carcass behind him.

I nudged my chin at him, as though asking what he wanted.

“Open the gate please?”

I made a show of checking the log for a minute or two.

“I don’t have any record of anyone checking out,” I stated prosaically, “you sure you got the right settlement?”

I saw him huff a humorless laugh and shake his head as he averted his eyes.

“You know damn well who I am.”

“Not really,” I replied with a cool shrug, “if I knew who you were, then you’d be on the outgoing log. That horse would be signed out, as well as that gun you’re carrying.”

“Can you just find Tommy or Maria? They’ll tell you who I am.”

“They’re busy,” I returned obstinately, “making sure everyone else is following the rules.”

Out of nowhere, a runner emerged from the trees beyond the gate and upon spotting Tommy’s brother, it began a powerful, flailing run right towards him.

Joel efficiently cocked his gun at the runner but made no attempt to shoot it yet.

“Goddammit let me in,” he growled as his horse, who I recognised as Marigold started prancing nervously at the chaotic, random movements of the approaching runner and it’s fitful, high-pitched screaming.

Marigold steered her rump to face the approaching threat head on, as any defensive creature would do, but in doing so she slammed her flank into the side of the gate trapping Joel’s leg.

He cried out in pain and lost his shot on the runner.

Behind me a gunshot rang out, and the runner fell to the ground gurgling and hissing.

I turned around to find Tommy, lowering his gun and shooting me a hard glare.

“Open the damn gate, Evelyn,” he ordered, his tone harsh and authoritative.

I had a lot to say, but I knew he was too pissed at me in that moment to listen.

I motioned to the boys below to pull open the gate.

Joel navigated Marigold back into the settlement and when the gates were closed behind him he dismounted.

“You okay, Joel?”

Joel. That’s his name.

“It’s nothin’,” he insisted tossing me a fiery glance and shaking out the pain in his leg

Tommy turned to me and flicked his head towards the general direction of the stables.

“Evelyn, finish up here. We need some extra hands in the turbine room.”

I hated turbine duty. It was loud and dirty, and all the men in there were lecherous assholes.

“I’m supposed to be here until—”

“Well, I’m telling you that you’re done here! Go on out and help clean the turbines!” Tommy snapped at me which he almost never did. Most people felt awful when Tommy got angry. But I righteously held onto my belief that I was angrier than he was for being so lackadaisical about his brother flouting the towns prescribed rules.

I climbed down from my post and stalked by both men, tossing my rifle vertically towards Tommy.

He caught it and expelled a hot stream of air from his nostrils, giving me another warning look, which I ignored as I walked by them on my way to the turbines.

I spent the next few days avoiding both Tommy and Joel, feeling an incongruous mix of both embarrassment and righteous indignation.

I despised the sympathetic amusement on Joel’s face when he would see me around town.

His expression would change from his usual skulking frown to one that practically screamed, “aw you are so protective of your cute little town and I appreciate the effort you put into trying to be intimidating,” and I fucking hated it.

It was Friday night and I’d just finished a long day of particularly eventful patrols with my partner Max. He’d run off home to complete more work but my shoulder and back was killing me from riding and engaging my shooting arm all day.

It was only my second fall season at Jackson, but I figured the transition from fall into winter would always be busy.

Our little town which was now powered by hydro electricity was a beacon of light in the perpetual darkness of the colder months, which was surely something to be grateful for, but it also attracted infected (and other unwelcome visitors) from miles around.

We’d gotten good at patrolling and securing our community but, it was work. Hard work, and my shoulders were feeling it.

With my head down, I waded through the patrons of the Tipsy Bison and found a seat at the bar.

Seth was a dick, but he served alcohol and he was scared enough of Maria that he tried not to cause too much trouble even though his misogynistic, bigoted nature made it hard for him to do so. The only value he really added was knowledge enough on how to brew beer and (passable) whiskey.

“Beer or whiskey?” he asked from behind the bar without looking at me.

“Whiskey” I responded scratching the thin layer of varnish at the lip of the bar.

Normally I took my time and started with beer, but tonight I was going for efficiency. I had a day off tomorrow, so I could afford to sleep off some indulgence.

I probably should have eaten something first, but I needed something to take the edge off my shoulder pain and Eugene’s weed supply was on backorder for a while on account of diminishing sunlight. I’d asked him for some seeds so I could grow my own, but he said he had to think about it because of Maria not being crazy about the idea of weed being grown in town. Despite most folks not seeing the problem, Maria, in particular, was risk adverse and certain things were a hard no for her.

“I understand it can be useful so I am not preventing growth or distribution, but it can’t be grown in town,” she insisted. “We gotta keep anything that impairs our judgement to a minimum and there’s more than enough alcohol to go around, so for now let’s just keep the distractions to a minimum. When we’re able to secure the town gates more robustly, we’ll revisit the conversation, but for now, weed supply is kept to Eugene and out of the city where he can control and secure it,” she mandated with enviable authority at the town meeting where it was brought up. And nobody questioned her because she was right.

It had been some time since then and our defenses had filled out a little. Still, weed hadn’t come up again at any subsequent town meetings so people either forgot about it or had implemented their own secret workarounds.

As I was busy waiting for my first few sips of whiskey to kick in, I felt someone sidle up into my space.

I knew who it was without looking.

He cleared his throat to draw attention to himself, but quickly followed up with actual words, albeit awkwardly and uncomfortably.

“Tommy says that if I want to fit in here, I need to get in good with the likes of you. He says you’re well respected amongst the folks here and…well, I think we got off on the wrong foot so I was wondering if we could start over.”

His tone implied that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but then neither was I. And on some level, we both understood that if Tommy was instructing him to make an effort, then those orders extended to me also.

Maybe I was still stinging from the embarrassment of my earlier misstep, but I was finding it hard to smooth over the chip I had on my shoulder for this guy. Still, it would have been in my best interest to not piss off Tommy or Maria, so I swiveled my ass on the barstool just enough to acknowledge his presence.

“Don’t take it personally, I don’t much like most of the people who come through here.”

“Understandable,” he muttered into his whiskey glass before taking a sip. “Nonetheless,” he continued, his voice mildly strained from the harshness of the amber liquid burning down his throat, “if I’m going to stick around for a while, I best keep the air clean as I can between myself and established folks like yourself.”

He was trying, I could see that, but I had more to say.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to make friends around here. But… maybe it might happen on its own once you learn how things work around here. I know you’re Tommy’s brother but there are rules that need to be followed around here and my beef boils down to the fact that he’s been letting you off the hook.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded pushing his empty glass to the edge of the bar and indicating to Seth that he wanted a refill.

“You don’t just take horses out and go hunting when you feel like it. There are designated hunting times, and horses need to be signed out by me or whoever is on entry duty. Same with guns and ammo. You report what pieces your taking and how many rounds of ammo. When you get back you return the piece and report the number of ammo rounds left so we can keep track of our inventory.”

“Fine. Anything else?” He asked fixing me with a stare that left me feeling a little…exposed.

I lowered my gaze to my glass.

“Lots. But I don’t have time to sit here and list out all the measures we’ve put in place to make sure things run smoothly around here. Make the effort to learn it. If you’re not sure, ask someone.”

“Yes ma’am,” he returned with just enough of an edge in his response to cause me to wonder if he was being smart with me, but not enough to confront him about it.

I fixed my eyes back on him with an equal amount of ambiguity.

Now that he was right up close to me, I could see the resemblance. Tommy’s features were fairer, but their eyes, nose and bone structure were undoubtedly of the same ilk.

Before either of us had a chance to continue or end the conversation, I saw movement in my periphery and heard a solid clap coming from behind Joel’s shoulder.

Joel turned to find Tommy behind him, smiling at the two us as though we were the best of friends.

“Looks like you two have cleared the air. I’m happy to see it.”

Tommy’s tone was light, but I was fluent enough in subtext to hear what he really meant which was “you two aren’t going cause any more trouble, are you?”

Joel looked to me as though the responsibility of providing confirmation to Tommy’s comment was up to me.

“We’ll be fine as long as he follows all the same rules everyone else around here does, Tommy. No free passes just because he’s your brother.”

“He’s a fast learner you don’t need to worry about that,” Tommy assured me, maybe with a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Then you don’t have to worry about whether or not we’re getting along,” I returned with an equal amount of impatience.

“Good,” Tommy smiled, “after your little gate stunt, I decided that Joel will be accompanying you on the patrol Sunday.”

Goddammit.

I tried not to look phased by his thinly veiled order, but there was certainly a split-second moment where we all felt the air between us hang heavy with anticipation.

“Fine,” I muttered, downing my whisky and silently requesting another through gestures towards Seth and he was quick to oblige me.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. I’m sure y’all will work together just fine once you get to know each other.”

I wanted to warn him not to count on it, but I know Tommy was laying down the law and his orders weren’t to be questioned, so I took my glass, downed my whiskey in one harsh, burning gulp and wordlessly made my way out of the bar.

[iflostreturntosteverogers]

Runnin’  Home To You

Characters: John x Gender Neutral Reader, Abigail (OFC), Nurse Astrid (OFC), Dr. Veil (OMC)

Warnings: ABO, Angst, Cheating, Nightmare, Sexual assault (No Details), Brief mention of vomit, Mentions of a seizure, Hospital

Word Count: 2601

A/N: This is my entry for @mariekoukie6661‘s Happy or Sad Challenge. My song was Runnin’ Home To You by Grant Gustin.

Beta: @fictionalabyss

Header: @sorenmarie87

Masterlist

       You turn over, reaching across to an empty bed. John’s cedarwood and lavender scent was stale on the pillows and sheets. It’d been weeks since the last time he’d been home, stumbling drunk, and smelling like another omega. You’d shoved him into the shower, roughly scrubbing away the lingering scent of whoever they were before crashing on the couch for the night. You’d flinched when he reached for you that morning trying to make amends. He’d dropped his hands and left again a mere hour later. You’d barely heard from him since. Maybe a text here and there, updating you on his location or asking you to research something for him. Sighing, you convince yourself to get out of bed and go about your day. 

You’re standing at the window drinking coffee when your phone rings. You glance down at it and frown. John. “Hello?” You try your best not to let the anger you feel seep into your voice. 

“Hey, babe!” He sounds like he’s smiling, but his voice is off. He’s hiding something. “I wanted to call and check on you. I should be coming home soon. What do you say we take a vaca-“ 

“Daddy,” he’s cut off by a whiny voice. “Come take a shower with me.” 

“Go to hell, John.” 

“Sweetheart, wait. Please, let me-“ You hang up before he can finish, throwing your phone across the kitchen with a broken scream. How dare he? How fucking dare he?! You drop the cup on the counter, coffee splashing everywhere, and sink to the floor. Tears stream down your face as you bring your knees up to your chest and watch your phone light up again and again from where it landed. Eventually, it stops. You continue to sit there even as the kitchen glows orange with the evening sun and your legs cramp. 

You shakily pull yourself up from the floor when there’s an incessant knocking on your front door. “I’m coming.” You call out. When you open the door, your business partner, and friend, stands there looking worried. Her eyes rake over you, taking in what must be a mess. 

“I tried to call, but it went to voicemail. Hun, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look like a wreck.” You silently invite her in, closing the door behind her. She flicks on the lamp by the couch and sits down, patting the seat beside her. You sit and lean your head on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“He called this morning acting like everything was fine and talking about us taking a vacation. He was interrupted by some whiny bitch in the background asking Daddy to come take a shower with her. I told him to go to hell and hung up on him.” She looks at you shocked. 

“You mean John? Your John? What the fuck?!”

“Not the first time. The last time he came home, he came home smelling like another omega. I wouldn’t let him touch me and he left the next morning.” You look at your hands in your lap. Fresh tears well up in your eyes. 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” She pulls you into a hug. You let her hold onto you for a moment before you pull back and wipe at your face. “Why don’t I stay here tonight? We can order dinner and watch a movie?” You shake your head. 

“I just want to be alone right now. I’m sorry.” 

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. I understand, but if you need anything you call me. Okay?” 

“Okay.” With that, she leaves and you’re all alone again. You force yourself to go upstairs and take a shower before crawling into bed. 

       You walk along the beach with John, his hand in yours. He smiles down at you. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, John.” You walk a little further, watching the sand for pretty shells to collect. Here and there little white crabs scuttle along. It’s perfect. He leads you to a blanket laid out on the sand with a basket full of food and wine to share. “What is all of this?” 

“I wanted to surprise you. To make up for all the times I’ve been hunting and gone.” His eyes crinkle with his bright smile.

When you’ve both eaten and drank your fill, you lay your head in his lap. He combs his fingers through your hair and hums. “Can't say how the days will unfold, can't change what the future may hold, but, I want you in it. Every hour, every minute. This world can race by far too fast. Hard to see while it's all flying past. But, it's clear now, when you're standing here now I am meant to be wherever you are next to me. All I want to do is come running home to you.” Your wedding song. He was so adamant that it was perfect for the two of you. And it was. He’d sung it to you at the ceremony too, much to his boys’ surprise. You open your mouth to tell him how much you appreciate all of this, but all that comes out is a cry of pain. “Oh, god.” He raises the hand that had been resting on your abdomen. It’s coated in blood. 

“John,” you groan, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Help me.” 

“I will. I swear I will. You’re not gonna die. I need you. I love you!” Tears track down his face and you don’t believe him. 

“John!” You scream as more pain rips through your body. 

You jolt up in bed with a scream, covered in sweat and heart racing. Then the pain hits. It’s too early for your heat, but this pain is all too familiar. You wrap your arms around your midsection and groan. What are you supposed to do without John? The pain only worsens at the thought of your missing alpha. Shit, shit, shit. Was this because of him? Because of his absence? Fuck him. Fuck your poor choice in an alpha. You never should’ve let his good looks and charm draw you in. 

You shakily get out of bed and stumble towards the medicine cabinet, finding and taking a couple of painkillers. You lean against the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. The dark circles under your eyes and sweat coating your forehead do nothing to boost the hope that you’ll be okay. You weren’t stupid. Omega abandonment was pretty much fatal, but you’d be damned if you called him for help. You’d rather die, but that wasn’t happening either. You were going to get through this bullshit and come out stronger. You splash some water on your face and hastily brush your teeth. 

Determined to keep going on with your life like you weren’t possibly dying, you take the stairs slowly and make your way to the kitchen. Your phone lights up from where you’d left it on the floor the previous night. You bend down to retrieve and roll your eyes. Among the missed calls and texts a new message pops up: I’m runnin’ home to you. Like hell he was. You’d have to change the locks before then. 

You make an easy breakfast of toast with jam and slam back several cups of coffee while you try your best to fight the pain and exhaustion making up every fiber of your being. Resting your head on the table, you decide a short nap won’t hurt anything. Right? 

Warm arms snake around you, lifting you from your place at the table. You fight the heaviness in your eyelids to crack them open. Your vision is blurry and you can just barely make out the large man holding you in his arms. Alpha, you’re home, you think hopefully. It’s as if you're being dragged back under by the exhaustion you register the scent and whimper. Not John.

       Bright lights and disinfectant are the first things you notice as wake. The pain and fever are next. You groan and shake your head back and forth against the pillow beneath you. It takes a few tries, but you finally get your eyes open, squinting at the harshness of the light. “Oh, good! You’re awake,” a voice from your left says cheerily. You turn your head to see a nurse checking an IV line. When did you get here? How? “I’m going to go get the doctor and we’re going to have a talk.” She sounds so disappointed. What did you do? You can’t remember. She hurries out of the room before you get the chance to ask. You take stock of everything while she’s gone. Your whole body hurts, right down to your pinky toe. You’re hot, extremely so, and sticky with sweat as a result. Your phone is on a nearby table, but none of your other belongings are anywhere to be seen. What the fuck happened?

“Hello! I’m Dr. Veil,” a short, beta man in a lab coat says, walking in the room. “You were brought to the hospital without any identification. Can you tell me your information?” 

“I don’t understand,” you croak. “What happened? Why am I here?” He eyes you sympathetically and sits on the edge of your bed. 

“Let’s start with your name and then I’ll fill you in as much as I can. Okay?” You nod. 

“Y/N Winchester.”

“Good. As for what happened and how you got here, you were brought here by an ambulance after a 911 call. An alpha broke into your house after smelling the intense pheromones you were giving off. He said he took you upstairs and had sex with you while you were unconscious.” He pauses to watch your reaction as chills run up your spine. The scent that wasn’t right, the arms carrying you. Your stomach rolls and you gag. The doctor is quick to get something under you and narrowly avoids being covered in vomit. The nurse from before appears and holds your hair back. 

“Poor dear,” she whispers as she rubs your back. “All done?” You nod and wipe your mouth. 

“Ready to continue?” The doctor asks solemnly. You nod and brace yourself for more information. “During the assault, you began to seize and the alpha panicked. He called 911 and told the operator everything, but he was gone by the time emergency services arrived. We were able to stop the seizures and bring your fever down a bit, but you are far from out of the woods. I’m assuming this is either an alpha death or abandonment.”

“Abandonment,” you whisper. “My husband. He- he’s always gone for work and I caught him cheating. He hasn’t been home in a while.” He pats your leg. 

“I’ll let Astrid finish getting your personal information and we’ll see if we can hunt down this husband of yours.” 

“No.”

“What?” 

“Do not contact my husband.”

“You’re sure?” You nod, mouth set in a grim line and eyes threatening to spill tears. “Okay, we won’t try to contact him.”

       John drives like a maniac trying to get home as fast as he possibly can. He knows he royally fucked up, and he just wants to fix things between the two of you. He’s pulling off the exit to your tiny town when his phone rings. He doesn’t bother checking the I.D. as he gruffly answers. “Hello?”

“YOU ARE ONE STUPID MOTHERFUCKER, JOHN WINCHESTER!” He holds the phone away from his ear and cringes. He should’ve known this call was coming. Your best friend was protective, to say the least. 

“I know, Abigail, I know. But I’m on my way home and I’m gonna fix this shit.” 

“Better detour to the hospital, you fucking dipshit.” His heart speeds up and he grips the steering wheel tighter. 

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Oh, now you fucking care?!” 

“Can it, Abigail. Why the fuck do I need to go to the hospital?” 

“Because your omega, and my best friend, is dying. I got the call half an hour ago. Alpha abandonment: uncontrollable fever, extreme pain, and exhaustion. Not only that but they were raped by a strange alpha and sent to the hospital because they were seizing. You better hope they fucking live, because I will kill you, John Winchester. This is all your fault.” She hangs up before he can say anything. He drops his phone and races to the only hospital in town. Pulling up to the nearest curb, he jumps from the truck and runs inside. The woman at the front desk takes in his frantic state with a bored look. 

“Can I help you?” 

“My omega. I was told they were brought here. Y/N Winchester.” A glare crosses her face. 

“Room 309. Dr. Veil will want to speak to you.” He rushes to the elevator and slams the button, impatiently tapping his foot as he waits. When the doors open, he pushes past the people exiting and hits the button for the third floor. People frantically move away from him as he sprints through the hospital halls, searching for your room. He skids to a stop in front of 309. There’s a sticker on the door that states ‘Omega in Distress’. His heart skips a beat. Abigail was right. He was a stupid motherfucker. He starts to push the door open when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“You can’t go in there, dearie.” He turns and near pleads with the stern-looking nurse. 

“I’m their husband. Their alpha. I have to see them.” 

“You don’t deserve those titles.” She shakes her head and sighs. “Dr. Veil will want to speak to you first.” 

“I’m here, Astrid. You can go.” The man waits until she leaves before he addresses John. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. Your omega is dying. I couldn’t honestly tell you how much time they’ve got. Typically once the abandonment sickness sets in? A week, maybe two if they’re a real fighter. But I’m afraid the sexual assault on top of this is speeding things along. My staff was told not to contact you, so I can only assume it was the best friend who called?” John mutely nods his head. “Good. I’m glad she did. You need to be very careful about what you say and do when you enter that room.” 

“Okay,” John whispers. The doctor steps aside and lets John push the door open, entering your room. It’s alarming how weak your scent is. The sight of you so pale and attached to numerous machines is John’s nightmare. “Stupid,” he mutters at himself. Your eyes flutter open and you turn to look at him. “Hey, sweetheart. I-”

“Go.” 

“What?”

“Leave!” You yell, tears falling down your face. He starts to reach for you, but you push his hands away. “Get out! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”

“Baby, please,” he pleads, eyes shining and body shaking.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” He flinches. You’re screaming hysterically at this point. Nurses and the doctor rush in to calm you. “GET HIM OUT!”

“You will die without him, dear,” the doctor tries to reason. 

“I don’t care,” you sob. “This is all his fault! I want him gone!” The doctor solemnly nods to one of the nurses. She comes over to him and gestures to the door. 

“Sir, you need to go.”

“But-” He tries to argue, but she shakes her head and gently leads him towards the door. 

“No.” He reluctantly leaves the room; your screams and sobs the only thing he can hear as he slides to the floor outside your room.

Tags: @leave-me-2-rot-among-the-flowers, @hobby27​, @samfreakingwinchester​

[palatial-monstrosity]

I was tagged by my dear @catboybataille!!

1. why did you choose your url?

it’s a reference to a review of Hannibal (a fever dream of palatial monstrosity) and it’s such a great expression

2. any side blogs?

Yes actually! The only one I update every now and then is my aesthetic side blog!

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

Oh idk 10-12 years? I remade at least once

4. do you have a queue tag?

no I don’t really use a queue on this blog

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

uuuh many many years ago it was to keep in conctact with some deviantart friends

6. why did you choose your icon?

Great atmosphere and it comes from a favourite painting of mine! I wanted something vaguely creepy and related to history of medicine and it fits!

7. why did you choose your header?

it’s a picture I took at the pharmacy museum of krakow!

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

The one abt italian not having a specific vampire tradition because we see undecaying bodies as saints, unfortunately the tumblr search is broken?

9. how many mutuals do you have?

don’t know! Dozens I think....

10. how many followers do you have?

531 lmao it’s a small little village here

11. how many people are you following?

230

12. have you ever made a shit post?

oh absolutely? I’ve been here a while...

13. how many times do you use tumblr a day?

quite often, at least in the morning and in the evening but very often actually, just a little scroll of the dashboard to say hi to all the lgbt people in my phone

14. have you ever had a fight with another blog?

no not really

15. how do you feel about need to reblog posts?

Not a fan, especially when they’re only focused on hyperspecific US issues

16. do you like tag games?

yes ofc!! or I wouldn’t be here

17. do you like ask games?

everyone does, after all

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

hel horrorlesbians and caro maybe?

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

I am in a polycule with all my mutuals ofc

20. tags

I tag everyone who wants to do it! If you see it and want to do it, feel tagged (and let me know)

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

Life Unlived - yoongi x reader

Summary: On your death bed, your king visits you. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / Seokjin x reader

Warnings: Major character death. Infidelity. Royalty AU!  Rating: Mature (NC17, for infidelity and implied smut) Word Count: 2,462 Genre: Romance, angst, royalty au 

Notes: This was supposed to be part of the 30-minute challenge I have going on - just basically, write anything within 30 minutes. But it got away - a whole extra hour! (Updated with new header + new format)

yoongi looks up as the heavy doors of his wife’s chamber open. for a moment, a sliver of candlelight escapes the room, some warmth passes his feet before disappearing into the cold. 

out steps one of his oldest advisors, lord seokjin. even after decades of life and two wars marred by many deaths, the lord of the north remains handsome even in the dark. his hair has gone grey, just like yoongi’s and though his shoulders remain broad as the sky, his back has stooped bringing him closer to the earth. 

“my king,” seokjin greets with a bow, and if he’s surprised with his royal crown’s appearance, he does not show it. 

there are no servants around, yoongi made sure of that. and decades ago, that would’ve been enough for his oldest friend to call him by his name. perhaps even crack a joke or two, but it’s been decades since he heard seokjin address him with anything but detached respect.

in the darkness of the halls, a cough echoes and both men sharply turn to the door, their bodies stiff, waiting just until the cough subsides. 

“how is she?” yoongi asks

for a moment, seokjin’s old bones fill with rage. rage at the audacity of yoongi to ask. rage at the unfairness of it all. and yet -- one look at his king’s trembling hands, seokjin knows that this is not the time for bitter words. 

“not well, my king. the physician says that... she will be lucky if she sees the morning.” 

yoongi closes his eyes and feels the cold hands of dread grip his heart and slide against his back, the ermine fur of his coat failing to keep it away. “i see.”

when yoongi enters the room, he looks at your figure bathed in candlelight. if he’s more of a romantic, he’ll have the courage to tell you that you look ethereal like the sun goddess you and your country believe in. (or used to believe in, before, before his father outlawed such heretic practices) 

with your faded hair stark against the rich red of your pillows, your skin glowing, he could almost taste a time way back.

but then, a cough rattles your chest and without opening your eyes, you reach for a cloth by your side. you strain for the few inches of distance and yoongi steps to close the distance between the two of you. 

he hands you the bloodied cloth quietly and watches you cough, your eyes blearily looking at him. 

“seokjin? my lord, did i not tell you to go home?” 

yoongi’s heart stutters at the fondness in your voice, even when it’s not directed at him. he aches to be spoken to like that so much that he wants to lie -- 

“it’s me.”

and instantly, your languid - weakened- state vanishes and he sees you transform from an ailing old (beautiful, still-- you were always so so beautiful) woman on her deathbed to the warrior queen he married so long ago. 

you blink away the sleep and fatigue before turning to see your king standing by your arm. “my king, what are you doing here?” 

without speaking, yoongi sits by your side, taking the cloth and dabbing it on your mouth gently, his own withered hands shaking. gone are the days that he bested all the land in archery and tennis, and all the things princes do. 

“my queen is sick, do i not have the right to see her too?” 

the last word hangs between the two of you. it hangs like the decades long affair unacknowledged yet known to both of you. 

you handle it like you always handle yoongi. unyielding in the face of the storm. 

“of course you do, my king. but i know for a fact that the physician has barred you from entering my chambers.” 

yoongi inhales, his own breathe stuttering. oh, to be young again and to argue with you endlessly. he’ll take your sharp words everyday if it meant you’d look at him. 

“the physician says you may not last the night.”

“and you’re here to make sure i do not?”

the bite in your words is familiar but your accusation is not. do you truly think... no... you couldn’t possibly...

yoongi looks at you, stunned, his eyes wide and you pretend that it’s glassy too. perhaps he has tears for you too. 

“i do not wish for your death, my queen.” 

you eye him warily, the softness of his voice lost against the hardness of the walls surrounding your heart. those you’ve built the moment you knew that you and he could never be. 

“so you say. when i die, they will pressure you to marry again. and you may marry anyone just give me the courtesy befitting of my station - thirty days, my king.” 

it is familiar. you’ve said the same thing before and though it was decades ago, yoongi never forgot. 

it had not been the first nor the last affair you discovered. and as the years went by after the incident, yoongi realized that perhaps it’s not even really just about his affairs. 

but, it had been a fine morning and you were twenty-two and he was twenty-three. you’ve been married for a year and he’s been pursuing someone for longer. 

it had been an old acquaintance of his, a daughter of one of their esteemed lords. they had gone to school together. she was beautiful, kind and regal. he was supposed to marry her instead of you and he had fancied that perhaps he’d be one of the rare monarchs with a happy marriage. 

but instead, for the sake of the alliance, he married you. 

he had been bitter and angry, and he did not hide it from you, therefore turning the whole court hostile against their new queen. whispers of your past as a warrior littered the halls adorned with vile words and curses as if you made the choice to sit on their throne yourself. 

you had known that monarchs of their country were not expected to be monogamous. you knew that. but you were at least hoping it won’t be slapped against your face.

“I didn’t come here with the belief that you would love me, yoongi,” you began, poised and regal, your royalty shining through. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I’d just hope perhaps you’d allow me the courtesy my station requires.”

none too subtly, you flicked your hard eyes to the window where the woman in question walked with the other ladies.

yoongi was enraged at your courage and in anger he said, “you’re welcome to your own affairs, my lady. leave me with mine. and don’t call me ‘yoongi’, i am your king.” 

nights after, he laid with her for the first time and continued to do so for a long time. 

“my lord, what’s on your mind?” his lover murmured against his chest, catching yoongi looking at the empty vase by his desk. 

“why do you not send wildflowers anymore, my lady?” he asked, quietly. 

“hmm?” she hummed, kissing the back of his ear, “i’ve never sent any, my lord, you deserve far more than just flowers from the road.” 

soon, he found that the little things were from you. the command to re-shoe his favorite horse every time he hunts, the extra bags of tea from the neighboring kingdom, the quiet of the court of commons -- the wildflowers by his bed.

he didn’t think you’d actually have an affair until he slowly saw you less and less around his circle and more and more with somebody else.

he half-expected it to be a quick affair, seokjin was notorious with his strings of lovers, but a month passed, then another... and another. 

and he never left. 

even when you could not lay with him, when you and yoongi were trying for an heir. even when you were swollen with yoongi’s children. even when you marched on to fight in the first war - the first queen to ever do so. even when you grew old, and your skin began to droop - seokjin never left. 

it grated yoongi’s pride for years and it took even longer for him to realize that it’s not his pride that was hurting. because he realized, not once, not even after you lost one of your children to stillbirth, not even after your other children’s births, not once, did you call him by his name ever again. 

yoongi sits vigil with you through the night. his own back hunching as he sit by your bed, offering you water and more blankets as the night grew colder. you slip and out of consciousness and as time went on, you grow less and less lucid. 

confessions spill from your lips. of how you’re worried of your children; your son who’s next in line to be king, your younger son who’s learning up north and your daughter, who’s almost at the age to be married. you worry and worry.

and then you turn to him, your hand seeking his. “you will guide them, won’t you, my king?”

“of course, my queen.” yoongi reassures, his lips touching your knuckles. here, at the end, he will take what he can get. 

your eyes shine at the gesture, soft and almost loving. “you know, i loved you the first time i saw you.” for a heartbeat, yoongi aches at the thought that perhaps you are seeing seokjin here, in your last moments, but he holds fast, even as his eyes water. “but you hurt me so much and so often, yoongi.” 

a heart-wrenching sob tears through you and a tear drops on his withered hand. at the tip of his tongue are apologies and confessions of his own, remembering all his sharp words and bitter affairs. but he remains quiet. 

“i first saw you in the battlefield, do you remember? of course you don’t. silly me.” you muse, eyes softer than he’s ever seen. “i was bloody and dirty, and you looked at me like...”

your voice grow softer, sadder, “you looked at me like i was dirt beneath your shoe.”

yoongi shakes his head, vehemently, “no, no, i thought you were beautiful.” he confesses.

he remembers, how beautiful you were, how terrifyingly beautiful you were - goddess of war, fighting for the kingdom you would one day rule together. he feared you then, as he continues today. what will come in your absence?

in your last moments, you let your walls drop and you smile, reaching over to caress his face, “a liar does not make a good ruler, my king.” 

yoongi captures your hand, and holds it close, his breath hitching at the teasing lilt of your voice. oh all the wasted time, all his pride. “i am not lying.” 

softly, you brush your thumb against the tear streak under his eye. “are you crying for me, my king? will you miss me?”

a lump forms in yoongi’s throat and he nods, vulnerable and aching. he climbs into your bed quietly, shuffling until you’re face to face. 

“truly?” you ask, eyes round in wonder. 

“truly.” 

the old monarchs will laugh at yoongi, old and curled up with his dying wife. his father always said that there’s no softness and romance in a marriage between two royals and yoongi used to believe it, seeing it play out in his parent’s marriage and in yours. 

but, he had also seen the quiet looks his father gave his mother when he thought she wasn’t looking. he had seen the almost-routine way his mother cuts meats for his father on their table and thinks that perhaps, it wasn’t always that love wasn’t found. 

it’s just that it was never spoken, acted on, and fostered. 

bitterly, he realizes that he and his father turn out to have more in common than he thought. 

silence befalls the two of you and yoongi holds both of your hands, scared of the coldness of them. death has entered the room and he aches for his youth, for a miracle - anything to fight for you. there’s still so much he wants to say. too much. 

“even if you didn’t love me, i had hope you would’ve found a friend in me, my king.” you whisper, voice raspy and your eyes fluttering. 

yoongi’s lips wobble, “yoongi. please, my--- y/n, please say my name again.”

“yoongi,” you repeat, the name almost unfamiliar to you, “yoongi, did you find a friend in me?”

i found so much more, i’m sorry -- i’m sorry. “yes. i did.” 

a brilliant one, a kind one with whom he raised his children with and ruled his kingdom with. someone who raced to the battlefield with him, every bit deserving of your people’s love. a great friend, just albeit distant, there was an ocean neither of you ever attempted to cross again, not after more and more cruel words from yoongi’s pride and more and more distance from you. 

“i’m glad.” you sigh, feeling death nudging at you, “i’m sorry you had to marry me.” you confess, “i’ve robbed you of your happiness.”

strength returns briefly into the old king’s hands and he grips your hands desperately, only loosening it at the sight of your wince. “no. no. i--”

will he really do this? confess on your death bed and let you die weighed by his own regrets? will he? will he say, "i’ve loved you too for the longest time"? But isn't it cruelty? Something more for him and less for you so instead--

“you brought me happiness.” yoongi has always been selfish. he will not deny himself this and you will not die thinking you are unloved by your husband. 

in the dancing lights, you are young again and you smile almost delighted and yet so heartbroken at the same time. “i’m sorry i brought you pain as well. perhaps next time...”

yoongi doesn’t believe in the next life, but for you, for this, he will. “next time.”

the queen passes in her sleep and witnesses say that the king was found cradling her body close, his sobs echoing in the chamber. they say it took hours before he allowed the physicians to take her body and prepare her for her final place. 

their kingdom mourn for the loss of a great queen that ruled with compassion and wisdom, she who listened to the masses because her roots remained strong. their children mourn for the loss of a gentle mother, with eyes like crescent moons and presence wrought with history and magic. 

seokjin leaves his estates to his brother, rides a horse in the middle of the night and never comes back.

and their king, yoongi - yoongi never marries again. 

notes: comments and feedback are much appreciated! :) 

[hualianff]

T.F.T.A (I.H) III 《II》

Irodori – Hiroaki Tsutsumi “I can touch up some patches of the walls that look washed out?”

“Uh, no you don’t have to-“

“-oh! And I can vacuum the carpets in the morning before work, during the day, and at night once everyone leaves so the floor will always be spotless-“

“No, really, that’s a bit much-“

“Does anything in your office happen to need dusting?“

HX sighs. This human never stops.

First, it is the food and drinks he delivers to the employees on each floor–without being asked to. His employees are filthy slobs when it comes to dealing with their customers as it is; the extra vacuuming would admittedly be appreciated. Though, HX has no complaints when XL personally brings him fresh coffee and pastries from the bakery on the corner.

Then, it is the excessive cleaning that has somehow become one of his biggest priorities, courtesy of XL. HX supposes this is what he needed a custodian for in the first place. But he can’t help but wonder how YY found a human who is so damn eager to be worked like a slave.

“Mr. Xuan, what cleaning fluid brand do you prefer the bathroom floors to be mopped with?” Xie Lian asked, still sitting in the lone chair in front of HX’s desk, one hour after he first entered. Here he was, going through a laundry list of sterilization questions while HX was still trying to process just how ugly the human’s work uniform was.

He’ll have to do something about that.

HX was, by no means, generous or fashionable. Hell, he currently had on all black–the inner and outer robes being different shades–and cheap sandals that exposed just how pale his skin was. He sported the same skull earrings since first getting his ears pierced, and he kept his hair back in a simple, low ponytail that felt like a rope of lead at times.

They surely must make quite a pair, like the dark and mysterious goth teen meets the wrongly-dressed happy-go-lucky old man. There is no doubt HX beat XL in age by a couple of hundred years, yet, XL somehow still gave off wise-beyond-his-years energy. A man who has seen and been through plenty of life’s obstacles.

Such fragile beings, humans were.

“Um, Mr. Xuan?” XL spoke up again when HX didn’t answer his twentieth question right away. “Is it alright if I call you that? Or should I call you Black Water?”

HX’s frown deepened, sincerely considering how XL should address him. It was not like XL knew the truth behind the title Black Water, and for that reason, it felt improper for the human to speak a name he was not aware held so much power.

“Mr. Xuan is fine,” HX says curtly.

“Oh, okay. Mr. Xuan it is.”

HX exhaled with thinning patience. He placed his elbows on the desk, preparing to shoo his new employee away so he could work in peace.

“You can just call me Xie Lian. I hope to be of the best assistance to you, Mr. Xuan,” XL adds quicker than HX can respond. “By the way, about those cobwebs surrounding the hallways lights-”

Seriously, was this guy out of his mind?

From XL’s perspective, he believes he hit the jackpot with this job. Not only is it incredibly low-stress compared to his previous hustles, but XL often finds himself to be most useful in keeping Black Water company. Yes, XL is aware HX strives to be as antisocial and non-confrontational as possible. And yes, a boss-employee relationship probably shouldn’t cross a certain line into the best friend zone.

But whenever HX happens to be nearby, and XL bounds over with a dozen updates on his work and random stories that he can’t help sharing, HX begrudgingly stays and listens.

“See? Doesn’t dusting make everything nicer to look at?“ XL questions with a sunny smile, gesturing to the bookshelves on one side of HX’s office. He was a quarter of the way through with this task when his boss walked in.

HX merely grunts, then plops down in a chair different from the one guests typically sit in. It appears to be a new addition to the room. In XL’s eyes, more furniture means more growth in self-care for one’s personal space. In this case, HX’s working environment.

Naturally, XL approves with a satisfied nod. He also can’t stop the next words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“By the way, I noticed your tastes in literature differ across many subjects: Folklore, politics, ocean science…”

HX raises an eyebrow at this comment.

“What about it?” he asks, a little blunt, a little curious.

XL continues dusting in between the shelves. He faces away from HX and is glad his boss can’t discern his nervous expression. XL knows he has his nosy moments, knows that he often unintentionally crosses others’ boundaries in order to connect, which irks people all the time.

Maybe this is one of those moments.

Still, XL wants to try.

“Do you want to tell me about them? I’m quite the avid reader myself, and some of these titles look positively compelling,” XL says, skimming a hand down the exquisite spine of one of the books. He turns his head just enough to sneakily eye HX’s reaction, who hasn’t changed his seating positions the last forty minutes.

HX’s arms remain crossed over his chest, staring straight ahead at the wall of bookshelves XL insisted on dusting and tidying. His obsidian eyes noticeably sharpen, jaw slightly relaxing.

HX doesn’t say anything for a long minute. One minute bleeds into two, and then three.

XL sighs, a bit disappointed. He doesn’t want to push HX’s limits, nor initiate conversation he is in no place to discuss. Quietly, XL turns his attention back to work.

But as XL squats down to straighten out some books on the lower shelf, the image of black robes gliding along the floor catches his eye.

HX walks to one of the middle bookcases, caressing his fingers along his vast collection until he pauses on a book with an emerald green cover and characters glimmering in gold. He plucks the novel out of its homely crevice, opening the cover to flick through the worn pages.

XL takes this as his cue to approach, waving around the feather duster in anticipation. HX shifts to show the human the open book, finger pointing to the section header.

“This one is a myth about a parasitic ghost who latches onto its host and feeds off of sadness, sorrow, despair,” HX explains slowly, deliberate with his words. XL’s mouth opens in an “oh” shape, expressing interest in his features.

HX brings the book closer for XL to see.

“It’s one of my favorite reads,” HX murmurs, focusing on the text. XL blinks in astonishment, feeling especially honored that HX shared this with him.

It has only been one month since XL started working at Paradise Deals, and despite HX’s “I don’t care” attitude when it comes to basically anyone ever, XL definitely considers them to be friends.

And that is honestly the most he could ever ask for.

“Then I’ll be sure to put it on the top of my list,” XL chirps, tapping the book with the duster.

The corner of HX’s mouth tugs upwards.

*** Flor y Sangre – Sophism, Isabella LeVan, A Million in Vermillion One day, as XL rides the elevator up to the eleventh floor, it stops at the third floor first. The doors open to reveal a man with a green dress shirt tucked into black-and-white checkered pants. The same checkered-patterned suit jacket hangs loosely over his shoulders.

The man’s dark hair is long enough to cover his ears, making him appear quite young. Side bangs obstruct his eyes, but upon seeing XL’s face, the strands fly out of the way as he shakes his head in surprise.

“YOU!” The man seethes out, stomping into the elevator with clenched fists.

“M-me?” XL looks around, then points to himself questioningly.

“What are you doing here!? And what the hell are you wearing!? Am I supposed to fall for a dumb disguise like this?” The stranger fires back, voice getting more high-pitched as he jabs an offending finger at XL’s nose.

XL is beyond confused. He glances down at his custodian attire, the nameplate thankfully still in place. It’s in navy this time, courtesy of Black Water’s kindness is providing XL with more than one work outfit that doesn’t automatically suck the soul out of whoever sees it.

There is an awkward beat of silence.

The elevator doors close, XL now pressed with his back against the wall, nervously fiddling with the mop in his hands.

“Do I know you?” XL asks, forgetting his manners in a panicked state while searching his memories, trying to recognize the man in front of him.

“Fucking rude, as always,” the man sneers, giving XL a nasty stink-eye before backing off. “If you won’t reveal your true self now, I’ll just follow you until you do.”

“Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” XL rushes out, sneaking in a few bows here and there. “Perhaps you’ve mistaken me for the wrong person?

The man crosses his arms as if seriously contemplating XL’s words. His eyes shift from XL’s face, to his attire, to the mop, and then finally, up towards above XL’s head.

He decidedly shakes his head, unconvinced.

“No, I’m not that gullible. How convenient would it be that the first time I see you in who-the-fuck-knows-how-long, you’re stuck like this,” he hisses lowly. “Weak. Useless. Ignorant.”

Now that makes XL’s eyebrows rise into his hairline. He’s been harshly insulted before–regarded as pitiful and lacking potential in many areas–and likes to think his skin is thicker because of it. But to be directly attacked by a man whom he has no memory of meeting before? XL can’t help but feel like this is entirely uncalled for.

How does this man even know him?

The elevator doors slide open, having reached the eleventh floor. On the other side stands Black Water, wearing an expensive-looking suit with navy lining and silver cuffs. His foot stops its tapping on the ground where it had been denting the carpet.

“Xie Lian, I’ve been looking for you,” Black Water says, completely ignoring the other man in the elevator. “I’m meeting with a few clients on the east side of the city, and I need you to handle the documentation.”

He holds out a huge briefcase with the same fish symbol as the ones on the doors in the hallway. As XL steps out of the elevator to accept the briefcase, an interested “Xie Lian, huh?” sounds from behind.

“Pardon me, sir, if I can’t recall our first acquaintance. But did you need something from me?” XL asks while turning around, attempting to hold out an olive branch once more. Next to him, Black Water pulls out his phone and mindlessly scrolls down the screen.

“I can’t believe you actually did it. Got yourself a name and everything,” the man says, disbelief coloring his features. Then his eyebrows pinch together in a sudden display of anger. He locks eyes with XL, those amber eyes looking eerily similar to his own. “You disgust me.”

Before XL can react, the elevator doors slam shut instantly with a loud boom, masking the sound of fingers snapping right next to him. XL jerks at the sound, hands white-knuckling the briefcase.

“Do you know who that is?” XL asks his boss, tilting his head. This encounter has left him awfully confused and a little worried about his job. Would this affect what his boss thinks about his impact in the workplace?

It seems this trouble is needless when HX eyes simply narrows his eyes at the closed doors, a stormy expression on his face.

“No one to concern yourself with.”

Bonus:

XL finds out QR is the lower-levels’ boss, who holds an apparent grudge against him…? Once QR had come across XL in the elevator, he sticks around like an unwanted pest, somehow having the time to harass XL many hours a day.

XL: “Why does this guy keep following me around and insulting me?”

XL eventually cleans QR’s floors too because he has time and it seems QR won’t leave him alone.

HX: “Give me back my custodian!”

QR: “Fuck off! Why are you so defensive about mortal scum?”

XL, wiping down the doors, whistling: (´∀｀*)

[romioneficfest]

Romione FicFest 2021 - Kickoff Post

Good evening/afternoon/morning to everyone. Welcome to the FicFest 2021.

This year has a few additional upgrades including....

Gmail address for submitting all fics

Our own collection for Ao3

and currently working on headers and other décor as well as an updated FAQ. (This one is the one from Last year so working on a new update for it.)

If anyone needs audio in addition to alt-text for any graphics, please let me know so I can figure a way out to add it as well. But if no one does, then I’m not putting in the additional time which can be spent on other things.

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

Prompts

This isn’t a sign-up kind of fest but a prompt one. Since so many lovely people submitted prompts - across 4 entry points! - there will be plenty to choose from for writers. There’s various tropes & genres, settings and situations, and prompt words/ideas/items.

Day 1 prompting starts tomorrow @ 6pm GMT.  Link to World Clock.

Pick 1 from the daily list. If you wish to incorporate more, more power to you. If there is something not on the list you want to write, there is a Free Day prompt going up sometime. Use it if there isn’t anything else you like.

Write it how you will - from the trope busting genre to using an object in an unusual way - heck, even take a prompt and crack it like Mary Wollstonecraft’s headstone - that’s fine for me. I love seeing the creativity in action.

For those who don’t speak English as a first language:

By all means, submit your work in English - but it doesn’t have to be perfect. No one (gives side-eyes to all entrants!) will hold it against you for not speaking perfect English (and if they do, they have to deal with me.)

Entries:

Want to write 50 entries? Send them all in. The more the merrier. Only have time for one? That’s great too. I take any and all entries - if they are under 1500 words. (Though if it was like last year and an entry is over such, it will still be posted but not entered into the voting for the prize(s).) 

Only 2 things are exempt:

No Infidelity for the main couple. ‘Tis my squick - and my fest - so that’s my rule. It doesn’t mean anyone else isn’t open for such - but not Ron & Hermione. This is a fest for them, after all.

No bashing. Criticism is OK but not bashing. 

Also, like last year, I will submit at least one. It will be labeled and ineligible for voting consideration. I win because I get to read the entries first.

Betas:

While they aren’t required, it does make for a more pleasant reading experience. If anyone needs a beta and doesn’t have one (or their normal one is busy) email/IM/DM me and I will post a need - and if no one reaches out, I will pinch-hit as a beta for you - and make note of it in the author’s notes for transparency.

Ratings:

Any rating is fine - from G to NC-35. I am the final arbiter on ratings & if I think that it’s rated too low, I will bump it up - or add tag warnings for it. Not everyone wants to read lemon citrus works or not safe for work items so active and ongoing consent is mandatory.

Also, if someone has a trigger warning they need me to keep in mind for any entries - no matter how embarrassing or strange you think they are - please let me know. Really. No judgment on my part on what is a trigger. No, I won’t ask why, either. That’s not my business. Your comfort for this fest is my business. That’s why Anonymous stays open.

Submission forms:

This year I have the email address up and running

romioneficfest@gmail.com as well as the collection point on Ao3 up and going. But submitting it on the Tumblr form - and me doing the legwork - is there as well. If you email it in, it doesn’t have to be in Ao3 html markup. I have a script on Google Docs I use for that - and check it before entry. But if you do, it saves me much time on validation of the coding.

The less time I work on coding means more time for other stuff.

Back-stage administration:

All behind the scenes items are open for inspection so anyone saying I have my scaly talons on the voting/nudging anything will see that isn’t my objective. I win because A) I get to read these works first! and B) I get to watch healthy drama unfolding.

If there are any criticisms, I gladly accept them. I won’t bite if you put your name to your criticism and will take it in consideration. I have some amazing Romione writers who have already reached out to help the behind the scenes administration for this fest whom will help if there are any ethical or moral concerns. Come in blasting on anonymous and.... well, that never goes well. There’s ample rusted chainmail in my caverns from those who tried and failed. I have zero qualms blocking via IP address. So, please, be civil & cordial.

Voting

Yes, there will be voting again this year. I will, once again, put up a grand prize. While @hillnerd​ is too busy being amazing for art, I will find another suitable prize for the winner - and some prizes for the top 4. What they will be.... remains to be seen. Yes, this goes for everyone - including those internationally (I have my ways!)

I’m finishing up the links, updating headers, and other goodies. Stay tuned for further updates.

And if you want to turn on notifications, that’s brilliant too.

Sincerely from the bottom of my stone primed scaly talons,

[jaemtens]

check in tag

okay okay i’ll do it! i haven’t done a tag game in ages... i was tagged by @soonhoonsol, @njaems, and @sanshine

1. why did you choose your URL?

because jaemin and ten are two of my favorite nct boys and they had just posted this selfie together :(

2. any side blogs?

i don’t have any active sideblogs, but i have a few URLs saved and i did run @daily-shua for a while

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

my first account is from like 2014, but i’ve had this blog since 2017.

4. do you have a queue tag?

nah, but i’m not here that much so it’s probably my queue. i usually schedule my self reblogs for 1 am / 7 am / 1 pm / 7 pm EDT so they’re not too annoying

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

i was really into bts at the time and i wanted to have a separate kpop blog/account because i ran a few meme blogs on my “main” account. i don’t think i’ve logged into that account for two years now lol

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

out of all of the resonance teasers, it was the least painful as;dfkja;fdsk. plus i love blonde jaem + the outfit they had him in for departure version. i’ve thought about changing it lately, the newest candylab promo images are definitely my vibe.

7. why did you choose your header?

i suck at making headers and i was revamping my blog so i made the gif of markie as a placeholder. now it’s been there for like 8 months a;slfdkja;fdskdf; (i also should update that to the candylab shoot? or choose a black bg jaemin gif)

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

omg i thought it was this ateez gifset from their answer comeback, but renjun with the tiny kitties is actually beating it now!

9. how many mutuals do you have?

i think i’m mutuals with most blogs i follow, so probably 150+

10. how many followers do you have?

~12000

11. how many people do you follow?

225, but that’s probably inflated with a bunch of inactive blogs

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

oh i used to make a bunch of memes lol. a lot of them are embarrassing tho so i’m not going to share them here. i’ll just link this reblog from yesterday instead

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

probably a few hours in the morning and then i’m done for the day~

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

lol i usually try not to get involved with shit, but i definitely did not get along with certain seventeen blogs back in like late 2019. the tumblr fandom felt really cliquey back then. i think it’s much happier and cohesive now, especially since most of those people left for twitter.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

i don’t reblog them.

16. do you like tag games?

tbh i usually don’t do them unless i’m tagged by like 3+ people, and then i’ll consider it a;slfdkja;fdk

17. do you like ask games?

yeah! i try to do one every few weeks~ i should probably do one soon when i have some more time

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

in seventeen: @jonghan and @soonhoonsol / in ateez: @holy-yeosang @sanshine and @songmingki / idk yet in nct / in tbz: @hwqll and @leesangyeon

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

nah, unless jaem is one of my mutuals lol

20. tags?

i have no idea who’s done this but @jonghan @holy-yeosang @songmingki @leesangyeon @hwiyoungies @ohoshi and @taeminnomuyeppeo

[adrenaline-whump]

Thanks for the tag @thatsgonnaleaveamark !  

1. Why did you choose your url?

It’s a play on “adrenaline dump” - basically when you're startled by something scary/bad happening and your body gives you all the adrenaline at once.

2. Any side-blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them. 

Yep, I’ve got a few, though they’re not very active. [Edit: updated URLs] I’ve got @drensfavorites which I use to reblog/save long posts, there’s @drens-writing-reference for writing reference posts, @vertical-shift is an aesthetic blog, and then one called @exhaleandsettle where I save things to look at when stressed out.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

Started this blog on December 30, 2017, though I was lurking for a while before that.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Just “q”.  

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I was SO excited to find the whump community!  I did a little lurking but I knew pretty fast that I wanted to participate.  

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Joel Kinnaman’s character in Altered Carbon is pretty much my ideal whumpee. He’s strong and capable, but he’s up against equally tough opponents. He always seems to be simmering with resentment or anger, but that’s partly to cover up the emotional pain he’s struggling with. Also he looks great with bruises!

7. Why did you choose your header?

Tbh I just wanted a good whumpy picture, and I always like the aesthetic of a whumper tilting a whumpee’s chin up.

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

Technically this one about the fighter & the rescued kid, although I never know if I should count it since the addition is so good, it really increased the visibility & reach.  Other than that one, this post about whumpee types is probably the one with the most notes.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Hmm, I wish there was an easier way to figure that out.  A fast scroll through the followers list says about 25.

10. How many followers do you have?

1360.

11. How many people do you follow?

89, and nearly all whump blogs. I really should follow more people, but since this is my main, I worry about people thinking “ew, why is a whump blog following me?” Social anxiety strikes again, lol.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

You know, I don’t think so. 

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

It’s the first thing I open in the morning, haha. Right now, work is super busy so I’m just checking a couple of times during the day and in the evening after dinner.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?  Who won?

Nah, I prefer to avoid drama. More than once I’ve written out a whole response to something that annoyed me, then deleted it and moved on.  

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

Even if I agree with the sentiment being expressed, that type of post strikes me as manipulative and a little rude. 

16. Do you like tag games?

Yes, but I have a spotty track record, lol. I promise, if you tag me in something and I don’t do it, the most likely scenario is that I went “Yay, I got tagged! I should do this thing!” and promptly got distracted and forgot about it.

17. Do you like ask games?

In theory, yes, although I’ve never reblogged one for myself.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I think all of my mutuals are whump blogs, and I don’t think any of us are really tumblr famous. We have our own happy little bubble over here.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

If we’re defining crush as someone that makes you go all heart-eyes-and-blushing, nah, but platonic/affectionate feelings, sure.  :)

20. Tags?

I’ve already seen others tag everyone I would tag, haha.  If you are reading this and want to do it, I tag YOU.

[junktrait]

Check In Tag ✔️

thank you @wirefiish for tagging me!

Why did you choose your URL? -- wanted a [word]trait url and my favorite sim is named trash but trashtrait was taken at the time (mine now in case i ever decide to switch and be just like TT) so i went w/ a synonym

Any side blogs? If you have them name them and why you have them? -- technically no active sideblogs but rn i have simending (old url), trashtrait (url in reserve), and endfound (old cc finds i don’t update)

How long have you been on tumblr? -- since jan/feb 2019 i believe. edit: lmao i forgot this wasn’t a simblr-specific tag. i’ve been on tumblr since like 2012, SIMBLR since 2019 my apologies

Do you have a queue tag? -- nope. i employ deception and confuse you as to whether my posts are real time or not because i enjoy petty villainy

Why did you start your blog in the first place? -- i followed a simblr on my video game blog and then started following others from there and wanted to participate, i didn’t actually play the sims much before i realized you could tell stories in it and then i was gung ho

Why did you choose your icon/pfp? -- i wanted a pink icon so i just made a new sim and did a photoshoot. might change it again bc the vibes are diff now imo

Why did you choose your header? -- my icon/header have to match so

What’s your post with the most notes? --  LMAOOOO it’s this one calling out the terf. my most popular sims post is this one.

How many mutuals do you have? -- 61!

How many followers do you have? -- [redacted]

How many people do you follow? -- 88!

Have you ever made a shitpost? -- lmao when i was checking my top 10 posts for the above question, this was in there

How often do you use tumblr each day? -- a lot atm, i do one big scroll through in the morning and then check it whenever i get bored during the day or when i need to post

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won? -- i have indirectly fought the terf several times but. win the battle lose the war i think bc she keeps coming back so. who knows. as for fighting someone i like/used to like, no i haven’t! if i dislike someone i just softblock them or hard block if i really do not want to see them

How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts? -- it fully depends on whether i agree with it lol

Do you like tag games? -- yeah

Do you like ask games? -- yeah but i think people need to be better about actually asking questions lmao

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? -- idk why this question phrased like this so tagged people please edit this to just “Do you have any mutuals you think are tumblr famous?”

Do you have a crush on a mutual? -- yeah and good fucking luck finding out who

Tags? -- @des-dabbles @goldenhour-s @emotrait @notinmyhousehold @goldenwaves @xldkx @usermoon @voidcreek @poetic-falls @queenofvraquin @plunni feel free to skip and i’m also very sorry if you’ve been tagged already i have no brain