#are they horrible ideas? perhaps but i like them and i hope u do too

[pastsaoi]

i'd love to know about all of the wips because of the sheer potential of all of them, really.

bet okay here we go ty for asking!! all of these r drafts so excuse anything that is clunky or weird sounding

part 2 in the 'is marius von hagen an idiot or just bisexual' series

this revolves around marius being allergic to silver. all his jewellery is platinum and he gets touched by luke Who Is Wearing A Silver Ring At The Time. queue a nasty rash all over and he never notices the ring bc he is more focused on luke, which leads to mar believing he is allergic to Luke Pearce and asking the rest of the team about it. he is genuinely distressed at the thought of potentially being allergic to luke

Whenever it was just Vyn, Robin and Artem in the NXX Headquarters, it was quite peaceful. They got on with their work with quiet conversations and no terrible, very bad ideas. With Robin present, it stopped Artem and Vyn from their bickering and, thus, it was calm. Serene one could say. The perfect environment to work and not fuck it up. Though it could also be said that this was simply calm before the storm.

So when the quick pounding of footsteps echoed around the hall near the door, Vyn took a deep breath, Artem rubbed at his temples and Robin clasped her hands together, hoping for something normal for the team like a murder or missing persons case.

"CAN YOU BE ALLERGIC TO PEOPLE?"

Her hopes had not been answered and Robin simply stared at where Marius stood at the doorway, looking… well, like shit.

once upon a fucking december

Okay so. Anastasia is my favourite film of All Time so ofc i had to make a tot au for it!! i have many different variations for this idea such as: rosa as anya and luke as dimitri, vyn as anya and rosa as dimitri, marius as anya luke as dimitri You Get The Idea. i don't actually have a snippet for this one bc its mostly just plots and plans in a gdoc But i will write it one day when i decide who to write as who

nxx unsolved : supernatural

The team go ghosthunting basically. marius signs them up to go explore a supposedly haunted building in stellis after someone asks and he does it under the guise of Teamwork and Team Bonding. its mostly a disaster

"This is a terrible idea," Vyn had stood up to fix himself a cup of tea almost immediately as Marius started speaking, though the whole team knew if he could get something stronger he would.

Marius pointedly ignored him. "We could be like the guys from Scooby Doo! I will be Fred and Miss can be Velma since she's the smartest out of all of us."

"Luke has eaten dog food before so he can be Scooby," Robin pitched in from where she was sitting, sending a bright grin over in Luke's direction.

"Fuck you! I swore you to secrecy!" The dog food eater threw the pillow he was holding at Robin and it was quickly tossed back.

Robin kept her smile, "all's fair in love and war. And I want Artem to be Daphne!"

"Why should Artem be Daphne? They're nothing alike?"

"He's the prettiest out of us all and don't argue, 'cause you know I'm right, Luke!"

backstreets back ALRIGHT DUN DUN DUNDUN

band/idol au thing. i was listening to nysnc and then i sat up and was like Wait A Second and thats how this idea was born. poor rosa is going through it as she deals with their bullshit. havent written much for this one atm but

Robin got the email yesterday that she was getting transferred into group management.

She was being assigned to a newly established boy band named NXX and was now the group manager. Robin couldn't believe her eyes, she was a goddamned PR manager????? Who in their right mind got her to do this??

Sure, she'd done something similar in her first year with TE. Her first job with the company was working with their most successful girl group, JAEI, but she wasn't the group manager???? She was the one who managed their social media and scheduled interviews! That's nothing compared to actually managing a group?? How would she be able to manage this?

Robin needed coffee, and Celestine, and more coffee.

Dead in 3 years?? OR NOT

Right. this one Luke is Dead and is now a ghost who goes around haunting fancy places for fun. he ends up haunting marius' new home which is very fancy and he ends up befriending a ghost luke. again i have no snippet for this one bc. I have not written anything yet but it is an idea that i will eventually write!!!

hey god can you take this guy away

yk the river styx? charon the ferryman who takes over the dead people? Yeah that is luke pearce and marius, a very not dead person arrives asking to go to the underworld

Long boat rides offer a lot of time for thinking, but Luke was really all thinking out. He had been here for who knows how many years and no longer had much to think about, lest he wanted to question his very existence for the 8th time that week.

He has to admit though. This shit is so, so lonely. The lost dead people don't really talk to him and are too nervous about their journey to the Underworld to actually speak so they aren't any fun. You get sick of morbidly enjoying people's stress after a short while, he might be a courier of souls but he isn't a monster!

Which is why, on his next journey over the river, as he was letting people onto his boat and accepting their kinda gross coins from their mouth, Luke was pleasantly surprised to see a definitely not dead guy.

Vyn Richter Loses It

story is in the title tbh. vyn is tired he has had A Bad Week and just wants to get this nxx meeting over with and go home but then the blender blows up and there is a strange mixture everywhere (help Him)

He has zero patience for the members of the NXX team today (excluding Robin, of course). His lacking patience rears it head once again when he walks into headquarter and finds-

Well, it looks like a fucking bomb went off.

Keep in mind, Vyn owns the building that houses their headquarters. He paid for it and while he isn't lacking in money, it was still expensive, it's in the Victorian District for God's sake stuff there isn't exactly cheap.

So, pardon his reaction to finding the entire room covered in something white that quite frankly makes Vyn very nervous. Oh, and really annoyed. Not to mention the blasting of a K-Pop song he recognises since it was both Neil and Giann's favourite song for a while. (For about 5 months straight it was the only song allowed to be played in headquarters and in their modes of transport (it drove Vyn absolutely mad)). The song isn't helping with anything.

There is a distinct odour of vanilla and egg which is quite possibly the worst combination of things he's ever smelt. He covers his nose and closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his growing temper in check and prepare himself for whatever he'll find in there.

RED ALERT VYN RICHTER IS HOT

this is just rosa thinking abt how hot all her team is and also realising that Vyn may be the hottest out them all and needing to go sit and think. this is mildly fanservice-y but its okay

Robin knew she worked with insanely attractive men. She knew it, she relished in it, she embraced it.

However since she is around attractive men so much, she tends to forget just how hot they are sometimes. At random points it hits her, like when Artem stretched his arms above his head and she just stared. And he had a tight shirt on. And she could see everything. (She excused herself and sat on the bathroom floor in headquarters for about 15 minutes, rethinking everything.)

She frequently had these random experiences and she usually handled them quite well. It came with a lot of self reflection and crying at just how lucky she was to be with such works of art regularly.

those r my drafts. my wips. can u tell i like marluke just a Bit

will i ever finish these? Who knows bc i certainly do not i am a busy person but i love them all so maybe one day u will see them on my ao3

#my silly little drafts #wip tag game #tears of themis #are they horrible ideas? perhaps but i like them and i hope u do too #:]!!!!!!!

[delcakoo]

i wish i was a baller ₊✩˚⊹ c.yj

ty @yenqa bae for the idea <3

SUMMARY ! being his longtime crush, when yeonjun and his pesky friends’ catch you walking past the court, he’s quick to try an impress you with one (un)lucky shot on hoop in exchange for your number.

PAIRING ! yeonjun x f!reader

WC ! 1.3k

GENRE ! cavity inducing fluff

a/n: c’mon now u have to listen to i wish after readin that title c:

“shit, look who it is yeonjun!”

the male in question was much too busy shouldering soobin to the ground, dribbling past his now groaning friend before slam-dunking his favorite orange ball through the hoop to listen to lame, old, beomgyu.

“let’s go!” yeonjun punches the air, running by his teammates to offer them high fives that they halfheartedly return. “another point for the yeonjunniez!”

“horrible fuckin’ team name,” taehyun murmurs, while kai only nods in tired agreement.

before yeonjun could force the group into another scrimmage, a strong hand grips his shoulder, redirecting him to face a barely visible figure that’s only steps away from reaching the basketball court’s end. beomgyu squeezes tighter, shaking him back and forth slightly. “don’t ignore me! you recognise who that is, right man?” squinting his eyes, yeonjun gasps as he takes in the familiar sight of your signature hairstyle and white headphones.

oh, he knew it was you alright. even if it was pitch black out — only street lamps illuminating the shady pathways — and you were clearly wearing all dark shades to blend in more, he knew.

“‘course, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t know my girl when i see her?”

soobin, who’s still brushing off pebbles after his dramatic fall, rolls his eyes at the straight fibs coming out of his friend’s lips. “she barely knows you exist.”

“not for long.” before anyone could stop him or make him think at the very least, yeonjun has himself pressed against the chained wall of the court, fingers noisily locking through the metal in an attempt to grasp your attention. “y/n, is that you?”

when you swiftly turn at the sound of your name, looking adorably like a deer caught in headlights, yeonjun is reminded of just how head over heels he is.

“yeonjun..?” he’s never been so thankful to mr. sim assigning partners for projects, or else you still wouldn’t know your future boyfriend’s name! you look past him to take in the other boys who send you awkward waves, and yeonjun glares in annoyance at each and every one of them. what shitty wingmen.

“uh, yeah.. so, what’re you doing out here alone?”

with one more glance around the empty park, yeonjun nearly squeals as you begin walking closer, shoving your phone into your hoodie pocket smoothly. “j-just clearing my head i guess. what about you guys?” your stuttering gives him hope that perhaps you’re just as nervous as he is right now — leading a small smirk to etch across the boy’s lips.

“practising extra late since tryouts open soon,” he replies, gesturing to his friend group in the background. “they all kinda suck though.”

“thanks!” beomgyu spits back, but yeonjun could care less about his sarcastic comeback when it resulted in you letting out a soft chuckle. that was him by the way — he made you laugh!

in an attempt to give yeonjun more one on one time with you, the others had attempted to go back to playing (while still eavesdropping of course), but it was clear that their friend needed a little shove in the right direction.

taehyun moves closer, adjusting his black muscle top while offering you a mischievous grin. “say, y/n. if yeonjun here gets a three pointer, would you consider giving him your number?”

besides kai’s howling laughter in the distance, the court is frozen in tension, more specifically yeonjun — who’s jaw has practically dropped to his ass. this was not part of the plan, taehyun! attempting to bandage the wound, the raven haired boy smacks his friend, hoping the expression on your poor, confused face would falter at least a bit.

his ears burn bright red, and he can only pray the hood of his grey coat is deep enough to hide it. “i uh- sorry about that, you don’t— you don’t have to do anything—“

too busy manifesting some way to travel back in time and tape taehyun’s mouth shut, yeonjun fails to notice the amused smile creeping its way to your lips. “no, it’s okay. you can try if you want.”

soobin and beomgyu share a horrified glance, just how is this working?

yeonjun blinks, holding a bewildered yet determined look in his pupils. “i— you mean like, to shoot?” he blabbers in disbelief.

you shrug. “why not?” and before he knows it, the ball is forced into his grip by a snickering soobin, who attempts to relieve his friend’s shoulders that are tenser than he’s ever seen them with a swift massage.

little did he know that you found it almost as endearing as the way yeonjun’s teeth nibble onto his bottom lip as he gets into position, crouching with precision before jumping, releasing the basketball with a flick of his wrists.

the orange ball flies for a bit before landing right on the hoop’s ring, bouncing across it loudly, spinning around for a bit before—

“shit..” beomgyu murmurs in horror, watching how the ball flops pathetically off the side of the ring along with the other five pairs of eyes.

yeonjun refuses to believe this.

sinking down to his knees, nails frustratingly glide through his bangs while a pained groan leaves his lips. “i didn’t miss a single fucking shot earlier,” he winces, “but of course when it actually matters i fuck up.”

god, he was so cute — it was all you could think to yourself as you paced closer, squatting next to the boy’s destressed form all while lightly patting his shoulder. when yeonjun lifts his head, his eyes widen at the closeness of your face being mere centimetres from his. for a second, he thinks he might just pass out on the spot, up until you pull out a pen from your pocket, grinning cutely as usual.

when you open up your palm, it takes him a minute to realize you were asking for his hand.

ever so carefully, yeonjun places his hand in your grasp, breath stuttering at the feeling of his crush’s fingers wrapping comfortingly around his wrist. “what- what are you..” he gulps when you bend a bit closer to begin scribbling something right across the softness of his pale skin, glancing up at his friend’s with a face of utter disbelief who only give him an equally gobsmacked look in return.

suddenly, you’re releasing him and standing back to full height, pen being shoved casually into the embrace of your black hoodie as if you hadn’t just narrowly avoided giving the poor boy a heart attack moments prior. “yeonjun, i was gonna give it to you either way,” you snort.

wait, what? did he just go through the five stages of grief for nothing?

all he can do is watch with eyes gaped as you slowly march back towards the entrance, only snapping out of it when beomgyu pulls his arm up to investigate the nine numbers inked across his hand. “bro.. you did it.” he states it as if yeonjun had just solved world hunger, shaking his friend frantically.

“i.. i did it?” he repeats dumbly.

it seems as though he can’t get a break; now soobin’s the one pushing him towards the entrance. “go on, dipshit!” he exclaims, “it’s pitch black out there, walk her home!”

this has yeonjun’s expression changing from dumbstruck to full on panic, nearly tripping on his own shoelaces as he sprints out to catch up to your now-far-away form, grey hood falling off and finally revealing his bright red ears in the process.

there was no doubt that he looked insane — lighting or not. “she has him wrapped around her finger, huh?” kai can’t help but cackle once more.

soobin takes a shot, easily making a dunk with the help of his height before sighing in agreement. “oh, absolutely.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs and feedback’s always appreciated <3

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

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#delcakoo #delcakoo requests #yeonjun imagines #txt soft hours #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt #yeonjun #choi yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x you #yeonjun fluff #txt reactions #txt scenarios #txt fics #txt soft thoughts #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fic #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun scenarios #choi yeonjun fic #yeonjun soft hours #yeonjun fanfic #soobin imagines #beomgyu imagines #taehyun imagines #hueningkai imagines #kpop fluff #kpop imagines

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch13

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise

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

The only thing that you swore you could hear was the sound of your own pounding heart beat. Your body was still slump against the beg, legs too weak to move. Tears were still rolling down your cheeks as your mother's voice echoed inside your head.

"I-I need...I n-need to..." The words kept getting caught in your throat.

Reaching for your phone again, you quickly texted Miguel. You needed to inform him about your parent's plan. It was unfair. How could they decide something for you? You had specifically told them that you needed to get away from Eddie.

Perhaps you should have told them the reason, but would that have made a difference? Recalling the many times your parents ignored the bruises you had or the many hospital visits, you knew that this was nothing new.

Upon hearing your phone buzz, you quickly picked it up.

'Sorry, baby, I'm in a very important meeting. Can't talk right now, but Lyla will be there soon.'

It was just a text message. You replied with a simple, 'okay', and sunk back into the bed. Miguel was a busy man. You didn't want to distract or interrupt his important work. You would just have to wait until he got back to tell him the horrible news.

----------

It took about an hour, but you were finally ready to hang out with Lyla for the day. Mentally, you were not ready, but you had to be. It would be best to distract yourself. You couldn't let your parents or Eddie ruin your life anymore.

"Helloooooooooooooo~" Lyla cheered as she twirled inside the penthouse. You jumped, pinching your sleeves,

"H-Hello. L-Lyla?" You questioned. Lyla gasped at the sight of you,

"Oh! You must be (Y/N)! You are cuter in person! No wonder Miguel is head over heels for you!" She chirped, wrapping her arm around yours, "Today is going to be so much fun! I hope you're ready to have a girl's day! Jessica!"

"I'm here, I'm here." Jessica said with a heavy sigh.

You felt a little overwhelmed the moment you heard another voice, but immediately recognized the other woman. You glanced at Lyla, then towards Jessica in awe. Miguel really was watching over you while you were working.

You ended up smiling to yourself as you easily followed the two women downstairs. They were happily enjoying their conversation with each other. You wanted to chip in, but were too shy to say anything. They were still strangers to you.

"Alright, so (Y/N), where do you want to start?" Lyla asked as they approached a car similar to Miguel's.

"U-Uh, I...W-What does...What does Miguel...l-like?" You whispered as you gripped your sleeves. Jessica raised her head, her jaw agape,

"I wasn't told we were shopping for Miguel."

"Ohhhh, neither was I! This is going to be even better!" Lyla laughed and pulled out her phone, "You are so cute, (Y/N), I know just where to go~"

-----------

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine. He glanced up towards the lab's air conditioning, wondering if it was blasting higher than normal. Wanting to shake the feeling off, Miguel continued his walk around the lab, listening to one of his scientists give an explanation of their yearly findings.

"Sir, with your permission, there is a project that some of the men would like to conduct downstairs in lab number four." The scientist spoke up. Miguel lazily glanced in his direction,

"What project?"

"It appears that there is a new drug on the streets that is causing a-"

"No." Miguel yelled loudly, "Do you have any idea what could happen if anyone finds that drug here? Whom ever is the source of importing that cursed drug will not use Alchemax as a scrape goat."

"I understand that, sir, which is why we created a safe way for no one to find out. We want to break down the drug and see what is causing such an effect in humans." The scientist begged. Miguel gave one more glare towards his scientist,

"That drug will not enter this building. The only way you can get that accursed item in these labs is if the CDC contacts us personally. Understood?" Miguel hissed, his glare more menacing than ever.

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Miguel scoffed before making his way out of the lab. Normally, he'd behave himself a little better in front of anyone outside his mafia, but not for this. That drug was going to be the death of him. Not only was it threatening his family, but now his job.

As Miguel walked around Alchemax, he kept an eye on his watch. Awaiting any news about either Eddie or this drug. Spotting a photo message, Miguel clicked on it and immediately grew flustered. He rushed into the closest private room and called Lyla.

"Yes~" Lyla cooed over the phone. Miguel nearly grinded his teeth,

"¡Me estás matando! (You're killing me!) You're supposed to be helping (Y/N) with shopping, not sex toy hunting!" Miguel spat. Lyla just laughed over the phone,

"I told you he'd love it~"

"A-Are y-you sure? I-I um..."

"Dios mio (My god), put (Y/N) on the line."

"H-Hello, Miguel," You hummed happily. Miguel smiled towards the sound of your voice before noticing his erection,

"Baby, you know you don't have to listen to all of their suggestions. Just pick whatever you like out and I will love it. Honest," Miguel said sweetly before locking himself in the room.

"A-Are you s-sure?"

"Yes."

"O-Okay...Um, M-Miguel...L-Later...I...I h-have s-something important t-to tell you."

Miguel furrowed his brows by the sound of your voice. You were trying your best to not stutter as much, but Miguel knew that something was wrong.

"(Y/N), what's wrong? It doesn't have to wait until later if it's hurting you now."

"..."

"(Y/N)?"

"M-My...My parents...called me....and..." You were whispering with a shaky breathe, "T-They engaged me...w-with...w-with my...my...ex!"

Miguel nearly crushed his phone as you sobbed over the phone. His blood began to boil as he stood from his seat. Approaching the window in the private room, Miguel glared down at the city below his feet.

"Don't worry, (Y/N), everything will be okay. I'll take care of you."

"M-Miggy," You sobbed quietly as Lyla and Jessica comforted you, "C-Can I...Can I move in?"

"Of course." Miguel whispered, "Baby, I have something I need to do now. Have Lyla and Jessica take you by your apartment to start moving your stuff. Okay?"

"O-Okay."

Once you hung up, Miguel let out an angry yell. He proceeded to slam his fists into the nearest table, destroying it with ease. Once he was calm enough, Miguel reached for his phone again and decided to make a few calls.

----------

You felt horrible. You were having such a good time with Lyla and Jessica and you ended up a crying mess. Luckily, you were able to squeeze out that you were not crying because of them. God, that would make you feel worse.

"Is this where you live?" Jessica questioned as they arrived in a shitty neighborhood, "This is Kraven's territory."

"Was," Lyla whispered. You rubbed your eyes as you looked for your building,

"What...do y-you mean by that?" You asked. Jessica sighed softly since Miguel had not told you anything yet,

"This area belonged to a former mafia family, but...They were taken over so now it's safe here." She explained. Lyla pitched in,

"Taking a while to get repairs done though. The permits from the city sure do take a minute,"

"Ah,"

You just agreed, slowly processing what they said. Once you were at your building, the two women followed you in. You offered your couch to Jessica, not wanting the pregnant women to move around too much.

Looking for your suitcase, both you and Lyla started to pack some of your stuff. Lyla reassured you that she could get a moving truck by tomorrow for some of your bigger things if you truly wanted to keep them.

"T-Thank you both...s-so much for t-today and...everything," You whispered and glanced over at Jessica, "A-And t-thank you...for...for watching me...at...at work."

"Heh, no problem girl. When Miguel cares for someone, he will make sure that you are always cared for."

You smiled brightly as you thanked the two once more. Right as you were going to bring down your bags, Lyla had the driver come and help. You offered everyone a quick drink before grabbing some of your stuffed animals and returning to the car.

"Can I just say, I was so surprised Miguel's place was covered in these little guys. You sure work wonders." Lyla chuckled. You covered your face, feeling embarassed,

"M-Miguel j-just kept buying them...H-He said he doesn't mind."

"Amazing. Anyway, why don't we take this Christmas shopping more seriously. Let's go find a gift for Miguel." Jessica said with a grin.

---------

Eddie inhaled deeply as he watched you leave with the other two women. He threw his cigarettes' on the floor and exhaled. A large puff of smoke floating into the air as he snarled. At least now he finally found where you lived, but-

"That had to be her the other day." Eddie spat.

Frustrated that his former toy had found a new man to fuck, Eddie cussed and yelled. He kept his glare towards your building, knowing that eventually you had to come back. You were going to be his again. Eddie was a forgiving guy.

He could forgive you.

After a little lesson, of course.

Walking down the street, Eddie saw some homeless people cozying up by a trash fire. Approaching the small crowd, Eddie grinned from ear to ear as he took out a decent size bag of his new drug.

"Hey, fellas. Got a job for ya." Eddie offered.

Once a deal was struck, Eddie decided to head back to his base of operations. He needed to get things moving with his drug if he wanted to take over the city. As he walked down the snow covered streets, Eddie felt his phone go off.

"What's new?" Eddie answered before slowly coming to a stop, "Whoa, what do you mean you were bought out?! You're the owner! You can say no-"

Feeling as if he was being watched, Eddie hurried down the street. He cussed as he kept his conversation with the person on the other line. After a while, Eddie found a quiet and remote spot where those eyes disappeared.

"We had a deal. How are we supposed to distribute our drug across the city now?" Eddie hissed.

'We can still use the girl'

"Fuck it. We can still use (Y/N). Little slut can wiggle her way onto the other mafia leader laps to spread the drug. Tsk, and we wanted this to be easy," Eddie whispered to himself since he had hung up a while ago.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Eddie reached for a different looking cigarette. He lit it up and inhaled deeply before continuing to walk around the city.

"We can still use, (Y/N). We...can still use her."

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next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

[defectivehero]

Please write about a nb hero who is big on "not owing anyone money" and "its my problem and weight, let me carry it" and "please let me pay u back" and "its your money even if you spend it on me"

And a nb snarky millionaire (by evil methods) villain who is obsessed with their hero and is like "let me spoil u bbg" and *casually throws money around for hero* and very big on "I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR U" but hero is too fucking dense to actually believe rhe villain.

this snippet completely spiraled out of my control (as most things do).

It all started with that damned news article. In hindsight, perhaps the hero shouldn't have been as forthcoming as they were. But, they wanted the world to know that the life of a hero wasn't always glamorous. They just... didn't expect for the journalist to capitalize on the single remark they made, the single huff of laughter they let out when asked about the wages. Days later, when the article released, the hero was stunned.

Heroism: A Thankless Job

The hero remembers the dread coiling in their chest as they opened the newspaper to find the article, apprehension increasing as they digested the information. That picture of their apartment complex... they don't remember consenting to release that information. Granted, the journalist kept them as a nameless, anonymous hero. But, it wouldn't take a huge leap in logic to connect the dots—to find the building's tenants and cross-reference those names with the hero agencies nearby. The hero just hoped an average reader wouldn't take the incentive to do something like that. They spent the rest of that day struggling to keep their paranoia at bay. It took them a while to fall asleep that night.

Fortunately, they slept well and their anxieties seemed to fade. The hero stumbled through their morning routine and opened their front door an hour later, ready to greet the day, only to nearly trip on a package. They had frowned and taken the package inside, unable to shake the recognition that they hadn't ordered anything to be delivered. Upon opening the package, they found a single unmarked envelope. Their jaw had dropped to the floor once they found the bills inside—an amount more than their typical paychecks.

Little did the hero know, this would be far from the last time they received an unmarked package with a far too generous, entirely unexplained gift inside. At first, the gifts were just small things: a collection of medical grade bandages and antiseptic, a new sweater after they spilled coffee on theirs at work, a care package with things like cough medicine and tissues that appeared the day they got sick. The hero was still profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of some mysterious benefactor providing them with these things, but at least the packages were small. The magnitude of the first gift hadn't been matched since, and the hero couldn't help but feel grateful.

Amidst their hero work and their daily life, the hero found their mind quickly returning to the question of their gift-giver's identity. It had to be someone they interacted with fairly often, considering the far too accurate timing of several of the gifts. One time could be dismissed as a mere coincidence; a box of cough medicine a mere hour after they found themself bedridden, however... That is an entirely different story.

The gifts continue, but, thankfully, they are small in scale. The hero still feels horribly guilty about being entirely unable to pay this person back, but there's almost nothing they can do. Their benefactor clearly doesn't want to make themself known, and that's fine. Really, it is.

Until there is another envelope. This time, their mystery patron doesn't bother concealing their gift within a package. Instead, the hero opens their mailbox to find an unmarked burgundy envelope. Dread coiling in their chest, they look around—foolishly hoping that their gift giver would somehow have a change of heart and decide to show themself—before heading back inside. The hero sits on their sofa and takes a deep breath, before opening the envelope with care.

What they see is enough to make their hands tremble and their grip falter, allowing the envelope to slip down to the floor. They hold their present in disbelief.

It's a check—for more money than they could possibly fathom having. This sum is so large that the hero wouldn't have to work another day in their life. They would be able to live comfortably without earning so much as a single penny on their own.

The thought sickens them. "I can't accept this," the hero breathes aloud. They look down at their apartment's hardwood flooring as if it will give them the answers they're looking for.

"I don't recall asking you to." The hero jumps, looking up to find the villain standing before them. How they got there, the hero doesn't have the faintest idea. They blink at them for a moment, wondering how they didn't connect the mysterious gifts to the villain sooner. Their enemy has always had access to extremely high-tech weaponry and state of the art medicine (judging from their utter lack of scars despite their numerous fights); not to mention, they've had an inexplicable disregard for finances for as long as the hero can remember. It's all beginning to make sense now.

The villain takes a step closer and the hero remembers their remark. "I'm serious," they say with a frown. "Why are you doing this? Do you want me to owe you? ...Is that what this is? Want to, I don't know, kick me while I'm down? You're such a good person, helping the needy." The latter statement is spoken with venom.

"No, of course not," The villain argues.

"Then why?" The hero repeats, the volume of their voice rising as they get more frustrated. They take a deep breath and clench their fist at their side. They're still holding the check in their other hand, and despite the fact that it's nearly weightless, they can feel a pressure pushing their hand down. "And, more importantly, how in the hell did you get this much money?" The hero hears themself ask.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to," the villain says lightly. There's a darkness to their eyes that suggests the hero should cease this line of questioning. They take another deep breath.

"You're assuming I'll just... accept this," the hero realizes aloud. That familiar itching feeling is rising to meet their skin, and they're becoming less convinced that they should stop it.

"Perhaps."

The hero blinks at them once, twice. The villain refuses to break eye contact; their gaze almost urging them to do it—to use their powers to turn the check to ash. The hero gives into the flames prickling along their skin and summons their fire in the palm of their hand. It will only take a moment, maybe two, for the bottom of the paper to char. From there, it will only be a matter of time. The hero watches in anticipation.

...But nothing happens.

"Did you really think I'd be foolish enough to give you a check you could just burst into flame?"

The hero stares ahead blankly, their ears ringing. The villain's expression blurs into a twisted smile. A figment of their imagination or reality? The hero hears their breaths, ragged and half-panicked in their ears.

"I don't understand," the hero repeats hollowly. They don't understand anything that's happening—anything that happened that led them to this very moment, standing before the villain and holding a check that their enemy gave them.

"You don't have to understand," the villain says, crossing their arms over their chest. "I'm not asking you to understand. Hell, I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm ordering you to cash this check."

The hero's tongue is ironed to the roof of their mouth. Even if they desired to speak, they don't think they'd be able to.

The villain notices their speechlessness and sighs. "I didn't want things to come to this, but..." They break off. "As I predicted, you're stubborn as hell, and self-sacrificing to a fault." The hero doesn't have the energy to be offended or outraged.

"So," the villain drawls, their arm falling to their side quickly. The hero blinks and they're suddenly being held at gunpoint. "Go to your bank. Now." The hero suspects the weapon is more than a gun—and they don't care to find out just what it can do. It appears they really have no choice. The villain is forcing their hand.

An hour later, the hero is walking out of the bank with sunken shoulders. "There," the villain says, clapping a hand on their shoulder and leading them out of the building. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" Upon closer examination, the villain's weapon is nowhere in sight—as if it simply vanished in thin air. The unlikely pair walks down the street and heads back to the hero's car. The hero ignores the domesticity of it all, securing their seatbelt over themself. The villain doesn't seem keen to wear their seatbelt, so the hero reaches across and buckles their rival's seatbelt for them before they can object.

"I'll transfer the money back to you tomorrow," the hero announces as they're driving down the street, back towards their apartment. Their eyes are locked on the road, yet they somehow know that the villain's gaze is fixated on them with frightening focus.

"We both know you won't," the villain hums with certainty. The hero hates that they're right, hates that their rival can read them so damn easily. Their hands tighten around the steering wheel and the rest of the ride is suffocated with a horrible silence.

When the hero arrives back home, they can't shake the realization that the villain seems deeply pleased. They say as much to their enemy, who hums.

"Of course I'm pleased," the villain says, "If I knew this was all it would take to get you to accept a much-needed gift, I would've done it eons ago."

The hero takes a deep breath, struggling not to cry. It's been a long day, and they're reaching their limit. "I think you've humiliated me enough today," they announce. "Can you leave?" Please, the hero thinks to themself.

"I suppose," the villain sighs dramatically. They take one step to the door, then another. Just before their hand can clasp the doorknob, the hero feels one last objection fall from their lips.

"That money could go to far more deserving people and causes," the hero chokes out. They're choking on their own pride, choking on the simultaneous acknowledgment that they need money and the horrible knowledge that almost no one in their situation has an out like the one they were just presented with.

The villain turns around to face them, clearly moments away from rolling their eyes. "Do I look like a philanthropist to you?" The hero shakes their head, their throat burning. Their enemy nods in confirmation and turns back around. They twist the doorknob and tug the door open.

"You deserve nice things, you know." The villain's parting remark is murmured so quietly that the hero convinces themself they imagine it. The hero watches their front door close and waits a few moments before locking it. They turn around, their back to the door, and slide down to the ground with their head in their hands.

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[shyanddreamy]

A beautiful soul

Juice Ortiz x Reader

Summary: By the way his sad eyes looked at you, you knew he was lying. Something big was happening. Something awful. And even though he wasn't asking for your help, you couldn't help but feel that you had to do something.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, attempted suicide, drug use.

Author´s note: I can't deny it. I love this man too much. And the one shot is a bit long, so it's going to be in two parts, but I hope u all enjoy it <3

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Since everything was clean and tidy, you had nothing else to do for the moment. You thought it could be a good time to put some music and take a beer, but a loud noise coming from the bathroom startled you. Probably that bath had seen horrible things, but it wasn’t one of that kind of noises. And you knew who was inside. He had caught your attention by passing so fast some minutes ago he didn’t even bother to say hello. You thought he could be in a hurry to use the toilet, but perhaps it was something worse. As you walked towards the bathroom door, you heard another thump.

“Juice? Are you good?”, you asked after knocking softly.

It took him a few seconds, but he ended up answering.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”

But he didn’t sound credible at all. You waited out there trying to identify what was going on inside, and even though you were aware that it might be a bad idea, you brought you hand to the handle, realising he hadn’t locked the door. So, slowly, you opened it. Once you made sure that the boy hadn’t his trousers down his knees, you raised your voice again.

“Hey. Are you feeling well, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I do”, he quickly answered. Juice instantly rubbed his face, but it wasn’t enough to hide his watery eyes. And he knew you had noticed it. “I’m okay. I promise. I just need…”

His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, so he shook his head and sat down on the toilet avoiding your gaze.

“I just need to be alone. Just close the door, please”, he added, but you didn’t do exactly what he was asking.

You did close the door, but with you inside the bath. And then, you took a sit on the floor, next to his feet, and put your hand up to his knee.

“Hey. Look at me, Juicy, please”, you asked him tenderly. It took him some seconds to calm himself down, but when he did it, you could see how sad he looked. “It isn’t good to be alone when you feel like shit. And even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m a good company.”

“Okay. Thanks”, he muttered with a slight smile on his face that made him look even sadder. “I’m good. I just needed to breath.”

“So, do it with me. Breath.”

Juice closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly let it out moments later.

“Good. Again”, you told him.

You spent some minutes like that. Juice was breathing while you were caressing his leg tenderly. And by the time he opened his eyes again, he actually seemed calmer.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Why don’t you wash your face and come outside?”, you suggested him. “There isn’t much work on the garage, so we could have a beer.”

“I’d like that.”

You spent a few hours talking calmly in the counter bar. It was obvious that something was still troubling Juice, but he got better as time went on. You tried to carry on a light and funny conversation, feeling a warm sensation every time you got a smile from him. And when his brothers arrived at the clubhouse, they joined you.

You loved those guys more than anything. They were your family, all that you had. And the moments when you were in the clubhouse drinking and smoking all together were mostly the best part of the day. That meant they were still alive for another day, and it was all that mattered to you. Nevertheless, they had been busier than usual lately. Obviously, it was due to club business you weren’t allow to know, but after so many years with them, you were more than used to their laws. It was fine, anyway. You listened to whatever they wanted to tell you willingly and didn’t ask questions when they preferred to remain silent. You tried not to get overly involved, but there were occasions when you knew they needed you to intervene, even if they didn’t ask for your help. And, right now, Juice was one of those occasions.

“Do you want to go for a ride?”, you asked Juice while picking up the empty beer bottles. His brothers had already left except for Chibs and Bobby, who were finishing a cigarette before heading home too.

“There’s somewhere you need to go?”

“Not really”, you answered. “I just felt like a night ride.”

“Yeah. Okay”, he nodded. “I’m a bit tired, but it could be nice.”

“Great.”

“That’s how young people say they want to bang nowadays?”, you heard Bobby saying. Nor had he made any effort to lower his voice.

Chibs laughed, as well as Juice, while you two were already walking towards the door.

“You’d be dying to know, wouldn’t you, Bobby?”, you added before winking at him. “Drive home safe, old men.”

“We’ll do”, Chibs responded. “Hope you do too, darling.”

You got on Juice’s bike behind him and once he started, you gave him directions on which way to go. You get out Charming and drove for a little more before you told Juice to stop on a side of the road.

“Why have you brought me here?”, Juice asked as nothing remarkable was around you.

“It’s quiet. And the sky is beautiful without the city lights”, you told him. Juice just leaned on the bike next to you and looked up at the sky realizing that the shining stars were actually a great view. “When I’m not in the mood, I like to come here. Gives me peace”.

He understood what you were referring to, so he decided to just stare at the stars.

“Thanks”, he suddenly muttered. “Not for this. I mean, not only for this. This is really nice too, I promise, but I meant to what happened this afternoon. In the bathroom. And for not telling the boys.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want them to know.”

“You were right”, he nodded. “But you don’t have to worry about anything, Y/N. I’m good. Like, really good. I swear.”

Juice tried to sound credible, but you didn’t believe him at all.

“I still remember when you were a prospect. It was few after I started hanging up with the club”, you told him. “The boys were hard on you, as they always do with prospects, but you always had a wide smile on your face no matter what.”

As you said so, Juice couldn’t help but smile.

“That is. That smile”, you added. “You were so fucking adorable. You still are.”

“C’mon, shut up”, he said while tapping your shoulder with his gently. “You’re gonna make me blush.”

“But it’s the truth. You were so cute, but also a bit foolish. That one still after being patched”, you continued. “Do you remember the accident with Tig and the Doberman?”

“How could I forget? I could never forget it, as well as Tig”, he joked.

“It was a big mistake. Hilarious, but dangerous”, you assured him. “But still, the club loved you since day one. And they still love you so much. Even if they’re a bit mean sometimes, they’d do anything for you. You are one of them. You’re their brother. And if you ever need to talk to them, for whatever the reason is, they will listen to you.”

When you stopped looking at the sky to look at Juice, you noticed a few tears down his cheeks. He had started crying in silence at some point. And you felt your heart breaking at the sight of it.

“Come here, baby.”

When you hugged him, Juice returned the embrace needily. You felt his arms around your body tightly, and since he had his head hidden in your neck, his tears were wetting your skin. His cry was almost frantic, so you did your best caressing his nape and his back.

“It’s okay, Juicy. Let it all out. Everything’s going to be alright.”

*

“Do you want some coffee?”, you asked Chibs the moment he crossed the workshop’s door.

“Please”, he answered, so you served him a cup of warm coffee. “Thanks, love.”

“How’s your day going?”

“Good. Quiet”, he said. “Yours?”

“Quiet, too.”

“That’s good”.

Chibs took a cigarette and offered one to you. It might seem a bit boring to have a day like that, but it was on the contrary. Those days were great because you didn’t have to worry at all about if the boys would come back home safe and sound. And those days weren’t too usual.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“About what?”, Chibs answered, frowned.

“Juice.”

“I don’t want to talk about the kid’s sex life.”

“It’s not like that, asshole”, you told him while trying to hold back a smile. “What I was going to ask was if you had noticed something strange with Juice.”

“Strange?”

“Yeah. Like, I dunno, weird.”

“I’m not following you, lass.”

You took a drag on your cigarette and slowly released the smoke. You knew you shouldn’t be having this conversation, but you needed to. You just had to try to be subtle.

“I saw him a bit blue yesterday. That’s all.”

Chibs kept his frown for a few seconds more before shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his coffee.

“It may be just club’s business. You know how the kiddo is. Sometimes he’s too sensitive for his own good. But he’ll get over it”, the Scottish briefly explained to you. It was a pity that you were sure that what was happening to Juice was more serious than that. “Anyway, I saw him well last night. You should be near him more often. You really do good to him.”

“Are you talking about me, brother?”, Tig’s voice interrupted your conversation. “Because Y/N really does so much good to me. Mainly if she’s naked on my bed. That’s so fucking good.”

“That only happens in your dreams, Tiggy.”

“I know. And those are my best dreams.”

Unlike most croweaters, you hadn’t slept with each and every one of the Sons. You had hooked up with some members from other charters as Happy, and also a few times with Chibs, but it was years ago, and you just did it because you really felt like it. But you had already seen them too many times passed out, throwing up or even bleeding to death, so it was different now. And you cared too much about them to be thinking about meaningless sex.

“We were talking about Juice”, Chibs told him.

“Yeah? And you know where that fucker is?”, Tig asked. “He has not turned up at his workplace. I mean, business’ workplace. And he should be here to do his shift at the garage, but it looks like he’s going to skip that too.”

Chibs’ eyes were on you, and consequently Tig’s too.

“I don’t know where he is”, you answered without even needing to be asked. “Last time I saw him was when he drove me home yesterday.”

“Maybe he’s sick”, Chibs suggested. But by the way he looked at you, you knew he was thinking about your previous conversation. It was strange that he didn’t show up all day without a single explanation. “You should go and check on him.”

“I have to do some shopping for the clubhouse, but I can drop by his house in the evening.”

“Good. Need some help?”

“Nah. I’ve got it.”

“When are you gonna come to my place and check on me?”, Tig asked, as whenever he had the opportunity to suggest anything sexual.

“Keep dreaming, Tiggy.”

*

It was already dark when you were knocking on Juice’s door. He didn’t answer, but you knew he was in there because there was light. You knocked harder and still nothing, so you started to worry. Maybe Chibs was right and he was sick, like very sick. Or maybe it was his other problems for which he had been crying on your shoulder for at least twenty minutes last night. Luckily, the door was unlocked when you tried to open it. Unfortunately, what you found inside gave you the chills.

In the living room, on the coffee table, there was an empty pill bag. There were only two left. And Juice was lying on the sofa apparently unconscious.

“Fuck”, you barely mumbled before running to the sofa.

You tapped his face repeatedly while calling out his name. Having no result, you shook his chest insistently.

“For fuck’s shake, c’mon Juice. You can’t do this to me!”

When a kind of sound, which formed no words and made no sense, escaped from his mouth, you felt hardly relieved. He was still there, but the situation looked pretty bad. Without any other option, you turned him on his side and stuck two fingers on his throat. Moments later, he threw up.

“That’s it, babe. That’s good”, you encouraged him while keeping your fingers on his mouth. You continued like that until you thought all the pills were out of his stomach. Only then, you allowed him to lay on the sofa again. “C’mon Juice. You have to talk to me.”

He was barely opening his eyes and trying to mutter something, but you couldn’t understand a single world. As a few more seconds passed, he slightly started recovering his conscious.

“Good. I’m good”, he finally said.

“Of course you are, baby. You’ll be good”, you answered him. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay? C’mon, we have to get you up.”

You put one of his arms around your shoulders and made an effort to pull you both to your feet. He wasn’t helping at all, but you couldn’t let the two of you fall. So, slowly and making sure of every step before you took it, you made your way towards the bathroom.

“How are you so damn heavy?”, you asked more to yourself than to him. At least, his legs worked well enough that you didn’t have to drag him all the way down.

Once you reached the bathroom, you sat him down on the toilet making sure he didn’t fall forward. The best thing to do would be to put him directly in the shower, but it could be dangerous as you couldn’t handle him easily, so he could slip and fall. Instead, you opened the tap to wet his face, his head, and his nape with your own hands. His t-shirt was stained with vomit, so you took it off too. The cool water seemed to work to wake him up a little more.

“I’m good”, he repeated. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. Just stay with me, okay?”, you asked him while cradling his face in an attempt to get him to look at you. “Have you taken anything else? Other drugs? Booze?”

“Don’t know. Beers. Pills.”

Although he was much better than a few minutes before, he slurred the words, and you weren’t sure if he really knew it was you with him. Tomorrow morning, he would probably remember little or nothing at all.

“Why did you do that? You wanted to overdose? Was it an accident?”

“Was sad. And scared”, he muttered. “They won’t forgive me. He’s black. And he won’t stop pushing me.”

As you noticed he was starting to cry, you rushed to end the conversation.

“It’s alright, baby, don’t talk more”, you asked him softly. “You need to sleep, okay? And tomorrow you’ll be better. I promise you.”

With his arm around your shoulders again, you left the bathroom to go to what you thought was his bedroom and carefully laid him down on the bed. Then you took off his boots and, after a few more seconds of thought, his trousers too. It was just for his own comfort, and he didn’t complain at all.

“I thought the first time I saw you like that would be under different circumstances”, you muttered before covering him with the sheets. By then, he was almost asleep. However, you still had things to do.

Juice had scared you to death, but you were glad he was better now. You washed your face and put your hair in a bun before going back to the living room. There was vomit on the floor and on the sofa, which had to be cleaned up. It was awful and the smell was disgusting, but it was what you had to do.

Almost half an hour later, when all was done, you went back to Juice’s dorm once again to make sure he was well. Seeing him sleeping peacefully made you smile. You didn’t want to leave the house in case he needed anything else, but it felt wrong to lay on the bed next to him without being invited to. You finally decided to sit down on the floor next to the bed. After making yourself as comfortable as possible in that position, you took your eyes to him and caressed his arm tenderly. If you were lucky enough, you could fall asleep for a few hours.

*

When Juice appeared in the kitchen the next morning, you were already there making breakfast.

“Good morning”, he said, shyly.

“Good morning”, you answered. “How are you feeling?”

“My head aches.”

“You have an aspirin on the table. Next to the coffee”, you told him. He took a sit on the chair and seconds later you put a plate of scramble eggs in front of him. “You should eat something.”

He did as you said after taking the pill with a sip of coffee. And with another cup of coffee, you sat down next to him.

“Do you remember something about last night?”

“Something”, he muttered. “I just knew you were here because I saw your shirt on my bedroom.”

“I had puke on mine, so I took one of yours from your closet. Sorry for opening it without permission.”

“It’s fine.”

“We should talk.”

“Can you first tell me what happened?”

“You OD’d”, you answered. “I found you unconscious on the sofa. Made you throw up, cleaned you, and took you to bed.”

“Did I… Did I say anything?”

“Something. That’s why we should talk”, you nodded, but Juice didn’t seem very convinced. “You OD’d on purpose, Juice. You fucking scared me to death. I need to know what’s happening.”

“I don’t…”

“You can trust in me”, you interrupted him, putting your hand over his kindly. “Please, Juice. Trust in me.”

“But you can’t tell the club. Under no circumstances.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

It took him a couple of minutes and a few sighs, but he finally got up the courage to speak.

“The sheriff has found something in my profile. He’s threatening me with it”, he confessed.

“What it is?”

“My dad. He’s black”, he said, making a great effort not to burst into tears. “If the club find out about this, I’m out. Blacks are not allowed in the Sons. And I can’t lose them. They are everything I have. The kutt is all I have.”

Now, the three sentences he had said last night before almost start crying had sense.

“But you didn’t know he was black.”

“They won’t care. The truth is what it is, and I can’t let them know it.”

“Have you told anything to him?”

“Whom?”

“The sheriff.”

“No. Not yet”, Juice answered.

“Have you done anything for him?”, you asked him.

“No”, he denied. “He arrested me yesterday. He’s been pushing me so fucking hard. When he finally let me go, I came here, and I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do. Just wanted everything to stop.”

You pressed the bridge of your nose for a few moments as you tried to ignore the pain in your heart. It was a fucked-up situation, but you couldn’t let the emotions out. It wasn’t the right moment.

“I’m gonna think about it, okay?”, you assured him while taking his hands with yours tightly. “But you can’t tell the sheriff shit, you hear me? Don’t tell him anything. No matter how hard he pushes you, you keep your mouth shut. You have to hold on a little longer.”

Juice pursed his lips but ended up nodding anyway.

“Okay. I’ll do it. I can do it.”

“Of course you can. I know you can.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you are doing for me, Y/N”, he sadly said. “I’m full of shit and you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Just don’t OD again. That’ll be enough”, you told him with a slight smile.

“I can do it too. For you.”

Juice finished his breakfast before going to take a shower. And barely forty minutes later, you both went to the TM. As soon as Juice parked the bike, all eyes were on you. You had agreed that, if they asked, Juice would tell them that he was very sick to his stomach. You would tell that you had gone to his house to check on him and spent the night there due to his illness. And after that conversation with his brothers, not without first scolding Juice for not telling them yesterday what was wrong with him, everything went back to normal.

You were all day around the clubhouse and the workshop as always, but your head was somewhere else. Juice could break down at any moment, so you have to find a solution as soon as possible. Things could get very ugly if Juice talked to the sheriff.

In the afternoon, some boys were in the garage while others had gone to do some club’s shit, including Juice. When you approached Chibs and asked him to talk in private, he frowned, but followed you anyway to one of the dorms.

“You know that I love you all so fucking much, right?”, you asked him.

“Of course I know, darling.”

“And you know that I only want what’s best for the club, right?”

“What’s going on?”

You had sworn hours before that you wouldn’t do exactly what you were going to do right now, but you couldn’t do anything else. You hadn’t more time to think and it was the only thing that could work. With each passing day, the danger of Juice doing something he shouldn't was growing.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but it’s all I can do.”, you told him. “Just, please, listen to me.”

“Whatever it is, speak up”, he said. Chibs hated to beat around the bush.

“Okay. Here we go”, you sighed.

*

When Juice arrived at the clubhouse, he had hardly stopped his bike when Chibs told him to accompany him to the garage. Juice had a small, carefree smile on his face, but as soon as he saw you waiting in the garage too, it faded slowly. Chibs went in after Juice and pulled the shutter. The door that connected the workshop with the clubhouse was already closed.

Juice gave you an accusatory, hurt look, as he already knew that you had betrayed him. You heart ached, but you remained impassive.

“So, you have been talking to the sheriff. Talking about your black daddy”, Chibs remarked deadly serious after standing in front of Juice, who immediately looked at you again. “No, don’t look at her. I’m the one who’s talking to you.”

“I didn’t…”, Juice tried to speak, but Chibs didn’t give him the opportunity.

“Shut the fuck up”, he ordered, and Juice obeyed. “You overdosed yourself last night as a coward because the sheriff was threatening you. Probably with ratting us out.”

You noticed Juice’s eyes watery, and you felt the urge to intervene, but you couldn’t. Chibs had allowed you to stay on the condition that you did not interrupt him while he was speaking.

“I’m sorry”, Juice mumbled. “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“What does your paperwork say?”, Chibs asked him, but Juice just shook his head without understanding the question. “Your birth certificate. Under race. What box is checked.”

Juice frowned and cleaned the tear that had escaped down his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Hispanic.”

“So, that’s what you are”, Chibs said. “Half of us don’t know who the hell our fathers are. The paperwork is the only thing that counts.”

As Juice opened his eyes in realization, more tears fell from his eyes. He was smiling but also crying. He looked so happy and so sad at the same time.

“You really tried to OD yourself for this”, Chibs muttered as if still finding it hard to believe.

“I haven’t told him anything. I swear.”

“I know, brother. I know”, Chibs nodded. “And next time you see the sheriff, you tell him he can go and suck your daddy’s big black cock.”

Listening to Juice laughing was almost healing for you after everything had happened. Chibs wanted to scare the kid a bit because he couldn’t be trying to kill himself every time a pig threatened him, but he wanted as much as you to help Juice and make sure he was well.

“He can’t do a goddamn thing against you with that, yeah?”

“Yeah”, Juice answered after sniffling.

The moment Chibs pulled him in for a hug, Juice reciprocated without hesitation. He wasn’t crying anymore, but it was obvious that he needed such a gesture of affection from his brother. And you knew you could rely on Chibs for this. Your intuition had been right in believing that talking to the Scottish would be the right thing to do, but nothing would change the fact that you had betrayed Juice. He had trusted on you to tell you his deepest secret and you had failed to him. And knowing that you couldn’t bear it if Juice threw it in your face after finishing his conversation with Chibs, you decided to cross the door and leave in silence.

Part 2→

#juice ortiz #juice soa #juice ortiz soa #sons of anarchy #soa #chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #soa chibs #tig soa #tig trager #soa fanfic

[actualbird]

oooh ooooh ooooooooh!!! irt the nsb-luke post... the idea of nsb being not so great is just... OMG THE TENSION??? lile how would that go down? in my head, i'm just imagining what would happen if luke found out or the possibility of traitor!luke perhaps? 🤔

irt why i think the nsb let luke go back to stellis

yesYESSSSS THEN TENSION WOULD BE INSANE RIGHT??? and i forgot to mention in that last response that among the reasons why i think the nsb could possible be a bad guy is cuz.....of luke's AU cards

his SOTT card, SSR Overflowing Thoughts. and his gufeng card, SSR Dreamlike Drama. if u havent played/watched those cards, i HIGHLY recommend u do because i rlly loved the stories in both and also because of what those two stories have in common

[spoilers for those cards ahead] in both cards, the luke's AU life lead to him breaking against the state/the law and becoming a vigilante or an outlaw. the reason he broke off from the state/the law was because he had witnessed or experienced a Great Evil either from them (for SOTT card, luke seeing the injustice of the system causing suffering to mc and then later on him being ordered to kill innocent people and Pointedly, Not Doing That, thus becoming a wanted man) or just in general (in gufeng card, luke witnessing his parents being killed and going rogue to get revenge) like.....

this cannot be a coincidence. it feels like foreshadowing. luke is a very noble person at heart with a great GREAT sense of devotion for the people and the causes he believes in. but if that trust is broken, if he sees bad happening, he breaks off. two cards show us his propensity of doing this in AUs, so whos to say it cant happen in the canon setting? and if it does, then the mysterious govt agency that hes currently aligned to seems like the best bet for who That Evil will be, right?

im sounding like a madman again JHAVKJFAHSVF but i do hope this happens because it'd be SO INTERESTING

additionally, i do wanna say that in broad strokes, that i dont necessarily think itll be traitor!luke (thought that ALSO INTERESTS ME GREATLY YEYYEYYEEAAA) but more following the premises of the AU cards where like......ok in the beginning he actually was aligned with the state/the law, but then Something crossed the line, Something happened that was too horrible for him to accept, and he breaks off

the AU cards show that luke has hard lines and limits for what he is willing to accept from governing powers or from the status quo. when those lines are crossed, hes gone, hes out

so in canon i wonder if like.....luke Is a traitor in the nxx but he doesnt know it yet. hes more being used as a pawn, moved into the right spots where he'll be most useful and unknowing of what his purpose actually is. and then when he realizes that his master isnt as good as he first thought them to be, he goes rogue

wouldnt that be a hella fun route for the story to go? HAHA

btw, if ur interested in traitor!luke, i HIGHLY HIGHLY reccommend that u start reading and following sam @samsspambox's fic series "the world turned upside down (down, down, down)" which is delving into that concept along with other extremely fantastic concepts and also it's SO GOOD, GO READ IT!!!!

BUT YEAH......nsb being revealed to be not-so-good would be so so delicious to me narratively

.....it'd be agonizing for luke "guilt complex big enough to be seen from space" pearce to have more things to be insanely guilty about, but honestly that just adds to the appeal for me HKJASHFVAKSF

#welcome to the blog where sometimes i answer questions with more non-answers and a lot of tangents JVSKDJF #asks #anon

[bulkhummus]

Current Thoughts:

Read several "meet the family" fics with Cecil leaving Night Vale and having to deal with the terrors of mundanity. They're generally great fun and I enjoy them, but the bulk of them involve Cecil trying to chill out/conform/be less weird, usually at Carlos's request.

I have a craving for a story where it's Cecil attempting to act "normal" and failing horribly, while Carlos is encouraging him to just be himself. Bonus points if Weird Shit just kinda follows Cecil around, Night Vale or no. Thoughts?

(Or just your thoughts on Cecil meeting Carlos's family in general)

i actually have a long one-shot that ive been writing that tackles this but — i write cecil differently than i draw him! im gonna put this under a cut because it’s probably gonna be a long explanation—

i write cecil as someone you can’t look at too closely or else you begin to realize things don’t add up (his tattoos change but never enough to be too noticeable, his third eye is really just a scar on his forehead that sometimes looks more like an eye, his carpet bag is too small for the amount of clothes he brought, sometimes his height changes, his eye color my shift with his mood, sometimes he looks softer or sometimes more angular and sharp but you can’t tell if its the lighting or him) — like theres always some loose but logical explanation for the changes in his appearance and behavior but if u think to hard he doesnt make sense.

i have a fic where cecil comes home with carlos for a long weekend— and he meets the whole family. And instead of him conforming to the outside world, its based around what Cecil, And what the idea of Night Vale means, changes the people in Carlos’ family for the better, making them think differently than they did, etc.

I really like the thin line between a stranger and just plain strange. Everyones a little weird before you know them, everyones very complex once you really start to look at them, and I think Cecil knows that better than anyone— and I write him as someone who is very good at getting personal info out of people by asking the right questions (which could be bc hes omniscient or perhaps hes just a good journalist etc). i think horror stories that explore that little overlap are fascinating so i try to write them! i also personally love reclaiming a ‘monster’ narrative and give it a queer lens ( lgbtq+ people who relate to cryptids/monsters/ villains etc which is a fascinating sociological thing And for another post) cecil would think carlos’ family and the outside world is just as strange and fascinating as Carlos does Night Vale!

i hope that sort of gives you a feel— i think cecil would adore carlos’ family and he also wouldn’t realize AT ALL that they’re making faces at eachother when he says something bonkers or dresses crazy because hes cecil and they LOVE AND ADORE carlos and see how over the moon Carlos is for him and therefore they love cecil endlessly. i dont think its in character for Carlos to ask cecil to conform in any kind of way, because i think his love and fascination for cecil is the endless journey of trying to understand him!

(my fic is also about overcoming internalized homophobia/transphobia, though carlos’ family has never been anything but accepting so its not that kind of narrative— like night vale is just a cool accepting place for him to explore and going back to his childhood home means everyones gonna see all the exploring hes done and his very GNC boyfriend kind of way— like the dichotomy of carlos maybe casually worrying “they’re probably staring at cecil because hes wearing a skirt or whatever’ when NO its actually because cecil is three inches taller than yesterday and his family is super chill abt queer stuff is both funny and understandably stressful misinterpretations of the same situation. Like THATS the area i like to explore in a fic/trope like this for wtnv.

one day soon ill post it— its honestly done I just gotta do some editing when i have time and i‘ll throw it up on ao3

#I hope that was a satisfying answer! #sorry this was longer than i meant to i got lost in the sauce thinking about queerness and horror and love #i love this trope more than anything because i love exploring cecil’s vague powers and LOVE #its very sappy and sweet and its cute #maybe ill edit it tn if my employer doesnt want edits on work i just sent him #wtnv #cecilos #ask tag #anon

[red-doll-face]

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

#slasher x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #rz halloween movie #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #thomas brown hewitt x reader #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt #bubba sawyer x reader #bubba sawyer #leatherface x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers

[seokahwrites]

NUISANCE | chapter 2 (or, i hate him so much my heart skipped a beat)

5.6k

back to nuisance masterlist

pairing.

| lawyer! jeon jungkook x lawyer! reader

summary.

| all you wished for was a relaxing two weeks in a big ass boat eating some big ass shrimps, away from the real world. but instead you’re stuck with your arch rival with no means of escape — and goddamit why does the bastard smell so good.

tags.

| 2 BROOKLYN 99 REFERENCES TELL ME IF U CATCH THEM; paragraphs dedicated to jungkooks back muscles; im so sorry like a few parts were really thirsty; but there’s a very sweet paragraph dedicated to jungkook’s smile; reader and jungkook bonding???; jealous reader; smug jungkook; love sounds like hate; a lot of plot convenience if you haven’t noticed

a/n.

| hello everyone! first off THANK U FOR THE MASSIVE SUPPORT ILY. i feel like this could’ve been better but i’m not sure how. but no they’re not moving too fast bc… well 😃😃 also i’m planning on writing more serious pieces after this series even though i’ve barely started :P anyways, i hope u all have an amazing day lots of love

“What kind of neanderthal doesn’t go outside for two days?

Jungkook asks through the open bathroom door as he’s sitting on his couch, your mouth still too foamy and minty to give him a quick-witted answer.

You spit into the sink and glare at him through the mirror, “I was being productive and I cooked horrible food all day,” you splash water on your face and pause at the door frame on your way out, “Unlike some people that spend their hours hunting for their next prey.”

You don’t stick around to watch the way he rolls his eyes, walking over to your bed to grab the orange wrap skirt and white top for today’s outfit. But you couldn’t really put it on since someone was still in the room.

There isn’t an inkling of a thought in Jungkook’s doe eyes, the time it was taking for him to get a hint was more than enough for you to pass your eyes over his black tank top, stinky green shorts and dark sandals. How did he look better than you in a tank top? Fuck him. Wait, no he doesn’t. Still, fuck Jungkook.

Once your eyes are back on him, the fiend has a shit-eating grin on his face as if he’d just caught you red-handed in the middle of a dirty sin — you were just judging him.

You raise your eyebrows in an attempt to maintain your composure, “Well?” And wave the clothes in your hands to help him understand the situation.

No sound comes from the ‘Oh’ of his lips, his small brain finally coming to terms with reality. But just before he heads out the door, “We’re having lunch at the deck,” and he doesn’t wait for an answer, slamming the door behind him.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Now, you didn't have to go along with Jungkook’s plan — hell, it was probably the last thing you wanted. However, does going to the rooftop deck to have a nice lunch and a-little-too-early drinks really sound like a bad idea?

And the answer to that question is what led you to pulling your clothes over your head and reassuring nobody but yourself that, “I’m only going because of the fucking food,” cursing Jungkook here and there too, of course.

Just before heading off, you grab the cruise’s complementary sun hat, a long string of pastel beads for your neck and your favorite pair of sunglasses — not that you were going to use them for more than keeping your hair away from your face anyways.

Breathe in, Y/N.

You’re out the door, “I’m ready.”

Your exposed skin stings as you feel Jungkook’s eyes go from your leg exposed from the slit of your skirt, to your fluttering stomach and slowly — as if he didn’t want to miss a single detail — up, up, up, until his gaze meets yours. And that look is back, the one he’s only ever used whenever he couldn’t hide what he truly felt for you: aversion.

Yet, instead of the slander you were expecting, Jungkook does nothing but shake away whatever was on his mind and lock the door. Beep, And he goes the entire way to the elevator without uttering a single word.

Still, even if the silence was deafening you don't make much of a fuss, only observing Jungkook’s silent figure as he stared ahead and around anywhere he wouldn't have to meet your eyes.

He was a pain in the ass even when he wasn't speaking.

Ding.

You’re the first to exit, part because you were excited to get a breath of fresh ocean air and part because you couldn’t stand whatever the hell was happening in the elevator.

There were half naked people everywhere, kids running around and chasing after each other through the zig zag of chairs and tables. From the wooden floor to the samples of blue and yellow on the umbrellas, cups and slides, the view was the very core of vacation.

Jungkook suddenly stands before your wide eyes and takes you by the wrist, taking the lead as he shoves his way to the stairs that lead to the highly-expected rooftop restaurant, the place safely guarded on the opposite side of all the commotion.

As your sandals flip-flopped against the wooden stairs, you start to see a flood of blue and beige chaise lounges, white coffee tables centered in the space of each one and the alabaster bar surrounded by people in all sorts of summer attire. Maybe Jungkook was onto something.

Speaking of, he grabs your shoulders — ruining the view as always — and pushes you down the first empty couch he finds. “Stay here, I’ll get us some food.”

You don't fight him on it, deciding to just let the sea breeze caress your face, closing your eyes and taking it all in. Things were nice.

That is until you look at the entrance and see Jungkook talking to the same raven-haired girl from yesterday. The sight bothers you and you can’t quite put your finger on as to why, perhaps it was because he could’ve at least had the fucking decency to not hit on people while he was ordering your food. God. Only he could put a stain to an otherwise perfect morning.

And you could’ve looked away, but just as a bee is attracted to pollen or a driver is allured with the sight of a car crash, you simply couldn’t — not that you were attracted or allured to Jungkook in any way, though.

The woman’s cotton cover up flowed with her hand as she playfully hit Jungkook on the arm. You envy her, you’d never touched an implant before. Jungkook crosses his arms at this movement, probably thinking his biceps were going to pop out even more. Your body threatens to convulse in second hand embarrassment.

But the lovebirds are interrupted when the cashier calls out for Jungkook, his order ready and trayed up. You look away and could only hope it was just in time for none of them to notice that you were ogling, but Jungkook’s mystery girl catches your stare and her angelic smile dissipates in front of your eyes. Chills, literal chills.

You feign surprise when Jungkook sits beside you, placing the tray of colorful drinks and drool-worthy pasta on the table with a clang.

“I hope the mimosas are a good enough treat for your highness,” he bows his head.

You can’t repress your squeal nor your smile as the glass meets your lips and you have a real summer drink for the first time in forever, the girl’s glare fading with every sip you take. Jungkook simply watches, amused when you down half of the drink in one go.

You’re content, only with a simple worry in your mind. “What time is it?”

Luckily Jungkook had brought a watch on his wrist, your phones long forgotten on the nightstand, “One something,” he grabbed both plates, handing over yours, “Why? Gotta run away from me again?”

You try to scoop as much chicken, sauce and pasta as you can twirl on your fork, practically salivating once you're munching down the food. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

Jungkook crosses a leg over the other as he eats the chicken from his own plate, “What are you up to today?”

Huh. You asked yourself the same thing. “I actually have no idea,” you admit, “I just saw the words massage and wine and thought ‘I have to go’.”

“Of course,” and he doesn’t sound the least bit surprised — or judgemental, at that. “You did the same exact thing at the last firm getaway.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, “Oh, God. Why would you remind me,” Jungkook is slapping his knee at a miserable attempt of stifling his laughter, “Nothing will ever compare to the misery of being surrounded by a bunch of sobbing tipsy widows.”

His laugh only booms alive and you try to convince yourself that it scratches your ears, but it doesn’t and you find yourself giggling as well. What the hell was in that mimosa?

“God, youre such a fucking idiot.”

“Lower your voice, boozer,” you slap his thigh — hurting you much more than him — and catch a few glares in your direction.

Jungkook drinks his entire glass, “Eh, screw them,” not sparing a second thought to the strangers, “Are you heading to the fifth floor again?”

The alfredo pasta in your plate has been reduced to nothing, “Yeah, why?”

“I’m heading that way too.”

You snort — you know, like a wild boar. “Gonna meet up with yesterday’s catch?”

He has a conceited smile on his face and you fear the next words to come out his mouth, “Maybe,” he places his plate on his lap and leans closer to you, his breath tickling your ear, “Jealous much?”

Scoff.

You push him away, drinking the rest of your orange juice. Scoff (again). You’ve never met someone so egotistical. How dare he?

“Don’t act like being seduced by an incubus like you is such a big deal,” you hope to poison him with your words but he only bites down a sweet smile, “And it’s not like she’s seen anything that I haven’t in the past two nights.”

Goddammit, Y/N. Where the fuck did that come from?

Jungkook drapes an arm over the couch, “Someone’s been enjoying the view.”

You try your best to scowl at the demon, but when your eyes accidentally tarry on Jungkook’s collarbones and arms — why is it always the fucking arms? — for a few moments too long, red paints your cheeks instead and you simply fiddle with your empty glass.

Jungkook’s victory weighs heavy on the lifted corners of his lips as you wait for him to finish the rest of his food — he ate like a five year old.

“This is where I leave you, I guess.”

The walk to the fifth floor was a quick one, you and Jungkook standing in front of the familiar entrance, that same chalkboard from yesterday scribbled with roses this time.

A woman is the one welcoming you at the door today, the same list and my-boss-forced-me-to smile on her face, just like yesterday’s guy.

“Ms. L/N,” she calls out as you and Jungkook come closer, “You must be the last couple to join us today!”

She manages to sneak her way behind you, pushing both of you into the dim room before her words could even reach your eardrums. Did she say couple?

Jungkook attempts to correct her, “I’m just here to drop her off—,” to no avail.

The woman has a menacing smile and look to her eyes that shuts the both of you right up, “The first activity was just about to start,” she rushes to the exit and shuts the door, but not before a friendly, “Have fun!”

Was this cruise actually full of psychos?

You and Jungkook are frozen in place, only noticing the handful of couples sitting on the floor, the petals spread across the room and romantic candles sticking out the walls, a moment too late.

“Welcome! Welcome!” An elderly woman approaches you, her short hair wrapped in a pink bandana, the boho print matching the rest of her clothes and chunky jewelry, “I’m Hattie, your instructor. Why don’t you two sit down so we can start?”

Though you're both in shock, none of you attempt to make an escape, taking quick but hesitant steps to the last empty space in the back. A flustered Jungkook is the first to talk once you’re sat down, “What the fuck, Y/N?”

Hattie seemed to have been saying something when Jungkook whispered a tad too loud, both of you putting on a smile when she looked. “I have no idea what’s happening either,” you grit through your teeth,

Once she looks away, you and Jungkook take a breather.

“I legit didn't see anything about onboard couple’s therapy, I was really tired,” you rub between your brows, “You can go, Jungkook,” your head gestures to the sealed exit, “I can take the embarrassment. Plus, that’s kind of the whole point.

“But that guard lady locked us in here,” his fading hope is visible in the way he buries his head in his hands, seemingly forgetting who he was with when he asks, “Am I really stuck here with Y/N?”

Are you fucking kidding me. You can’t believe you were empathetic with the monster for even a second. “Don’t be over dramatic, it’s only until six.”

His shock takes over his hands and the volume of his voice when he hits his legs, “WE’RE GOING TO BE HERE FOR FOUR HOURS?”

The murmurs and whatever that instructor was saying, are quickly silenced.

“We’re sorry,” you apologise on his behalf as he struggles with reality, “Please, continue.”

She coughs and puts back that old lady smile of hers, clasping her hands together, “As I was saying, we have three tasks ahead of us,” she puts up a finger for each one she lists, “A loving touch, a loving conversation and a loving drink.”

Her voice is drowned out by your dread, your eyes glancing at the couples holding hands and touching, whispering what were surely forbidden secrets into each other’s ears, the candle wax melting and falling in a picturesque way and how the music was crispy to the ears. It was all so… romantic.

And then there were you two idiots that stuck out amidst the crowd, both awkward yet number one is redder than the roses and number two was sweating like a hog. I’ll let you decide which is which.

Hattie’s words are what bring you back to the present, “For us to loosen up, we will begin with the loving touch session,” please say massage, “Each couple should head up to their respective massage rooms.”

At last, the sun is found in the storm.

You follow with an excited sway when Hattie finally comes to bring you to your room. She closes the door behind her with an, “Enjoy!”

A masseur is waiting on the opposite side of the massage bed with welcome arms, “Good afternoon, Mr. and Ms. L/N.”

Jungkook raises his hand, “I’m actually Jeon, she’s the only—.”

“My mistake, Mr. and Ms. Jeon,” Goddamit, Jungkook can’t you say anything helpful for once? “Which one of you will be massaged first?”

You practically leap to grab the robe in his hand before Jungkook could steal the chance, pointing to the jade door, “Is this the changing room?.”

The man nods, a little taken aback from your excitement.

You're out of your clothes and in the backwards robe in the blink of an eye, laid down on the bed in less than a minute, your head now resting on the top of your crossed arms.

“So, Mr. Jeon,” you feel a cold oil drizzle over your back, experienced hands spreading it across your back, “You’ll be placing your hands—,” wait, where did they go, “— right here.”

And just like that Jeon Jungkook’s hands were on your bare back, the concept of a loving touch finally flickering in your mind. His hands were a little more rough and shakier than you would’ve imagined.

Why was that going through your mind?

You should’ve been wishing death on him, yourself and everybody else in the boat, shouldn’t you?

“A loving touch is all about, not only a physical connection but really feeling your partner’s body, go ahead.”

Jungkook, being the pet he was, followed his orders and he did it a little too well, he slowly moved his hands from the knots on your shoulders to the very low of your back and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it felt horrible.

“It’s connecting on a whole new physical level with the other,” Jungkook’s hands travel to the dimples of your spine and linger for a moment too long, but they quickly come back up and focus on the crevices of your neck instead, each movement seemingly aiming for all of your stiff muscles.

Not too bad at all.

The masseur’s philosophical rant about touch and love is completely ignored, your mind hyper focused on every inch of skin Jungkook set his fingers on, his hands sailing further down the sides of your body, the extra attention he pays to your waist not unnoticed.

“Fuck.”

Indeed.

Oh, God. What did you just say?

No, no, no.

Perhaps it was just low enough for nobody to hear it—

“I guess that means you should switch now,” the masseur chuckles with a cringed tone.

It was not.

You prop yourself up and look at Jungkook who you could only hope wasn’t laughing at you, your eyes glassy and pleading for something unclear.

And the bastard was snickering, looking in no direction in particular with a blush to his cheeks and a mocking, lip-biting chuckle on his face.

Once you’re up and standing, it quickly dawns on you that it’s Jungkook's turn. Meaning you had to touch Jungkook and massage Jungkook and touch Jungkook.

The world did hate you.

Jungkook realises he was taking too long and mutters a quick, “Uh,” before pulling his top over his head and you shut your eyes — weren’t you Ms. Jeon, though?

The masseur has to call out your name for you to open them back up again, Jungkook laid on the bed with his head on top of his arms.

“I suppose you know what to do, Miss,” the man smiles.

“Yeah, Y/N,” he exhaled and you can hear his smug, “You know what to do.”

The square footage of Jungkook’s back intimidated you the tiniest bit now that it was splayed out before you, you must admit. Still, you place gentle hands on his back and you’ve confirmed once and for all that those bumps were indeed not from a disease but muscles. Rock hard muscles.

You don’t even remember you had to repay him the favor of embarrassing you — because yes, it was his fault — as you get lost in every dip and fold of his skin, your fingers moving on pure intuition.

The curve of his back, the ridges of his shoulders and the little jolts on the surface of his skin, you could feel all of it.

A hand to your wrist jolts you awake, Jungkook stirring with a glaze to his eyes as you both look up at the masseur, “It’s time for your next activity, Miss.”

Oh, God. What just happened?

You cough and don’t bother to excuse yourself as you leave the room, Jungkook grabbing your forgotten clothes and putting on his robe as he follows behind you.

You try to shake away the burning that creeps it’s way to your fingertips and cheeks as you sit back down on the floor. But it doesn’t work, your sweaty palms joining the party instead. Great. Just great.

Hattie’s voice saves the day, “I hope we’re all relaxed and ready to converse with our partners,” not at all, “If you could all just face each other, cross your legs and hold hands. This intimacy is important when facing important feelings and questions with your partner.”

As if Jungkook slathering oil on you like you were a nice roast chicken wasn't enough, now you had to hold hands with him. Is death still an option?

You’re facing each other, Jungkook’s palms up, “Shall we?”

Uneasiness settles in your stomach, a feeling you’ve never felt with Jungkook before. Sure, you’ve felt judged or uncomfortable but never truly uneasy. Maybe it was just your body reacting to the physical trauma you had to endure.

You nod.

“You know,” Jungkook seems to still be waking up, “You’re not too bad with your hands,” and he laughs.

But it’s a welcome sound that unbundles your nerves in the most peculiar way, your own smile coming back. “You’re not shabby either.”

“I could tell—.”

“I suppose you honeymooners didn’t hear my explanation,” None of you bother to correct her anymore as she places a deck of cards between you, “But all you need to do is pick a card in turn and answer the question. Don’t forget to look into each other’s eyes,” she winks and stands up, making her way to the front of the crowd.

“I guess this is when we start asking each other the questions,” the cringe in your tone is all that rasps your ears as you hold hands… with Jungkook.

“Go ahead,” his head points to the pile of cards in front of you but his eyes only look at Hattie and the way she seemed to ignore every other couple in the room except the both of you.

You breathe in as deep as you can, your hand grabbing the first question, your uncontrollable blush heating up tenfold when you realise this was probably even more intimate than the event-that-shall-not-be-named that occurred in the massage room.

Your mouth stumbles before properly saying, “How long have you been together?”

But Jungkook doesn’t seem as embarrassed as you, the same tint painted on his cheeks but he manages to laugh all the same, your chuckles joining his.

“I’d say about two years?”

Sly bastard. “I’d say two years too.”

He’s the next to grab a card, placing both of your hands on his left one before reaching.

“This is a great one,” he snorts, putting on a serious face when he replaces the card with your hand, “Are there any issues you’d like to bring up?”

You throw your head back just like the exorcist girl, and cackle— were you okay?. “Well, where should I start?”

This was actually kind of fun.

“Okay, but let’s be real for a moment,” he lightly squeezes your hands, “What is your issue with me?”

Or, maybe not.

“Well,” you curse at the old woman for putting you this close, your eyes left with close to no space to avoid Jungkook’s, “There’s just this way you look at me.”

Your gaze is back on the confused boy, the furrow between his brows strong enough to be considered a wifi connection. “What are you talking about?”

“Like—,” you try to come up with some way to explain, “—The first time we met, right? It’s like, you just go silent for a few seconds and literally look through my soul. It makes me feel like I murdered your entire family.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew wide with every word you spouted, the flush on his cheeks practically steaming from his skin.

Did he seriously not know? Oh, well.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and grab the next one,” you say to the top of Jungkook’s head since his face was pointed to his lap.

“Oh, God,” you squeeze Jungkook’s hands with a little more force than necessary, but at least it makes him look up, “You ready?”

Nod.

“What do you love most about your partner?”

Now that was a real couples’ therapy question. Great job, Hattie.

“I think you should answer this one,” you seem to state the obvious, “Since I was the only person to answer the last question.”

Jungkook’s shoulders fall from their perfect posture, “Fine.”

His eyes have that same glint you mentioned before as he scans you up and down. Was that the fifth time today? New record, guys.

“I guess,” he purses his lips with a slight smile, “She always knows how to make a moment memorable. Oh?

Your palms were sweating once again and you wouldn’t have taken note of it if you weren’t holding Jungkook’s goddamn hands at the moment. Why you of all people?

“Coming of a little strong, partner,” the nervousness in your giggly tone ever the obvious thing.

A small smile, “What about you?”

Oh, right. You needed to answer.

It wasn’t like you were an actual couple, “Uh—,” but why is the air between you so thick?

You struggle to find an answer and decide to go with the first thing that pops in your mind,“Well,” Shut up, Y/N, “He always manages to sneak his way in my thoughts.”

Why didn’t you shut up?

However, at this Jungkook smiles, but it isn’t the taut one you’ve seen hundreds of times before, no. Jungkook’s entire face scrunches up and the moons under his eyes seem to have constellations that creased outwards; the way his nose rumpled, his cheeks puffed up and his front teeth steamed the spotlight. Jungkook wasn’t smiling, the boy in front of you was beaming.

And he was beaming at you.

“Next one?” He asks, his face still shining.

You can’t even move at the sight.

Shuffle. “What is your favorite memory with your partner?” He puts it down, “I have like three answers for this one.”

The lightness is back in an instant and you keep that picture of Jungkook on the back of your mind, “You do?”

“Yup,” he pops the P, “First, at the last Christmas party, I go to take a piss at the men’s bathroom, as one does.”

“Please, don’t say it,” you groan and you can’t even hide your face because Hattie would probably slap your hands into Jungkook‘s.

“But, wait,” he feigns shock, “I hear someone gagging in a stall, more specifically a woman. And who else could it have been but the Y/N L/N.”

The almost forgotten memory of you retching your heart out in a smelly toilet and a suited Jungkook carrying you back to Seokjin comes back, and though it’s fuzzy and the mere thought of it is dreadful, Jungkook’s laugh is contagious, even to you now.

“Ah, I never thanked you for that.”

“You don’t need to—.”

“I didn’t finish,” you look at him disillusioned, “And I shouldn’t, because Mother Jin rubbed it in my face the rest of the night about how I was the boss and he was the lousy, underpaid assistant.”

“Classic Jin,” he chuckled. “Okay, second of all, when you threw a coke at my face two seconds after meeting me.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Jungkook,” your voice is dry, “But to my defense—.”

“I looked at you weird, totally a justifiable course of action,” he raises his brow, “What about you?”

“What about me?,” Your confusion is cleared up when you’re reminded that you were simply playing a silly card game, “I would have to say… Watching your boss throw a drink at your face after you asked her to make you a partner in the firm.”

Jungkook seems to have buried the memory, “What is it with you people throwing liquids at me?”

You put a thoughtful hand to your chin, “You just have a very drink throwable face.”

He’s quick to snatch your hand back into his and it doesn’t even ring in your mind, “Another one.”

Groan. “Fine, uhm—,” you purse your lips, “Honestly? Maybe, right after that when you were on the sidewalk crying and piss-drunk and you just kind of talked to me.”

Jungkook’s surprised expression has a genuinity to it, “Oh, no. What did I say?”

You shake your head as if to say ‘Nothing’, “You were just going on about how hard you’ve been working and you couldn’t even go out with your friends and you didn’t look at me in the eye even once,” you’re staring into the empty space, “You just said ‘this was a nice dream but I have to wake up now’ and blacked out.”

Your giggle is akin to a little schoolgirl’s and you look backat Jungkook, the night sky in his smile back once again. Hm. Cu—

Hattie claps and the noise bounces you back from your trance. You whip your hands out of Jungkook's hold, afraid they were going to end up drenched from your heart palpitations — Seriously, why was it so hot in the middle of the ocean?

You avoid Jungkook’s searching eyes to the best of your abilities. This could only be a fever.

“We seem to have reached the end of our loving session,” the biggest smile on her face, she can’t wait to get rid of us, “Each couple’s loving drink is awaiting at the exit. The robes are complementary, please do not forget your possessions and stay in love!” Thank God.

You’re on your feet in no time, practically jogging to the exit when Hattie suddenly grabs hold of you, making Jungkook stop in his tracks.

“You two kept on interrupting my class,” she narrowed her eyes but there’s a nicety to her, “But I let it slide, it’s not like I haven’t dealt with worse. Plus, you two have something special that most of the other couples in this room didn’t have.”

A woman scoffs at Hattie’s words when she passes by with her own wife.

Your lack of response is filled with Jungkook’s curious words, “And what is that?”

She leans in a little closer, “Shine,” she whispers this time, “A shine to your eyes and a shine to the way you dance around each other, it’s envying.”

The shine she was referring to was surely the dislike you had for each other. Surely.

You were so sure that you wouldn't stick around for another crazy word of hers and you go back to your almost-running pace to the elevator, not looking back to check if Jungkook had followed behind you.

Why were you so embarassed?

You reach your room in no time and hide yourself beneath the sheets. For a few moments you don’t move, as if you were waiting for something, or someone, to come knocking at the door; and when no one does, your chest weighs a little heavier as if you were disappointed.

“Are you telling me that Jungkook made you moan?” Jin’s voice shrill through the speakerphone, your knees to your chest as you sat at the balcony.

“That’s besides the point, Jin,” you groan, “But, yes.”

He hisses through his teeth, just like the snake he is, “Yeah, there’s no coming back from that.”

“Please,” you’re begging at this point, “Help me.”

“I don’t know what to say Y/N. The symptoms you described don’t sound like the flu, it sounds like raging thirsty hormones.”

Beep, you hear through the glass doors, making you turn, “You’re the worst,” the handle was rotating, “I gotta go, Jin. Love you, bye,” you whisper into the microphone as you grab the phone and make your way into the room for who knows what reason.

And there you were, like a fucking idiot, standing in the middle of the room when Jungkook walks in, scratching the back of his neck when you lock eyes.

“Hey.”

You bite your lip, “Hey.”

The air weighs down with words that wanted to be said and the uncertainty of what they meant, and nobody says anything as you fidget with your skirt Jungkook makes his way to his pile of clothes.

You watch as he digs his way and he seems to be looking for something.

Does he need help—

“Fucking hell, Y/N?”

Excuse me?

You come closer to his little circus act with your hands behind your back, “What?”

Jungkook stands up and you can feel his breath on the tip of your nose, “Where’s my shirt?”

Now, you were truly baffled.

“What shirt?”

He goes to the bathroom and continues his search for said shirt, “My hawaiian shirt,” his voice echoes, “It’s pink, it looks exactly like yours.”

Wow. And he picked on you for that on your very first night together. Wow.

“Why would I steal it?” You start searching through the pile of clothes on the chair, sure to find something.

“I didn’t say you stole it,” Jungkook is striding towards you, “You could’ve just gotten them mixed—.”

His sentence never finds an end when you stand up and turn at the very same moment he comes behind you, your bodies clashing and falling to the floor with a bang. Jungkook is on top of you, the only thing stopping your faces from touching being his upend arm, you don’t even notice your hand was holding onto it until you feel something flex beneath your fingertips.

Could this day get any better?

It takes a few moments for any of you to move, but when you do it’s up and rushing, both of you dusting off your clothes as if there was anything to dust off and staring intently at the ground.

“Uhm—,” Jungkook is the first to break the silence as he grabs something from behind you, “Found it.”

And you both wait for someone to say something else, still no one does and Jungkook puts the shirt back in the pile, walking towards the door.

But just before he could take those final steps, you grab him by the wrist and breathe out. You hated this.

“Look, Jungkook,” he does, “I’m really sorry for running off, I just felt really weird, you know?”

He early waits for you to continue.

“It’s just—,” you let go of him, your fingertips burning from the touch, “—today was a lot. I think we’ve never had real, sober time together that lasted for more than an hour and there was so much touching and talking,” you find yourself rambling, “It was just, really overwhelming because we’re not that close, “So, let’s just go back to insulting each other every two seconds and have a good dinner?”

He seemed to be expecting more, but if he was he doesn’t say a word about it and puts on a happy façade, “Only if you promise to not moan in the middle of our meal.”

Your expression falls flat. “You know what, forget it—.”

“Fine, fine,” he puts his hands up in defeat and unlocks the door, “They’re serving sushi tonight,” he doesn’t wait for you as he heads to the elevator, “So hurry up, dumbass.”

You smile, tucking your hair behind your ears.

Dumbass.

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| @fangirl125reader / @vantxx95 / @jinpanman / @ggukkieland / @miniiimee / @giadalin / @mrcleanheichou / @btsmylife21 / @primadonnasdream / @paizthemaiz

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[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Subaru Dark [Prologue]

ー The scene starts in front of the gate to the Demon World

Yui: ( I can get to the Demon World...By passing through this door. I’m sure I’d be able to meet up with Subaru-kun there, right? )

( I’m sure the Demon World has its own risks but...As long as I can reunite with Subaru-kun, I’m sure I’ll be fiーー )

*Creaaaak*

Yui: !

Subaru: You...!

Yui: Subaru-kun!?

Subaru: Knowing you, I had a hunch you’d come after me...Guess I hit the nail on the head, huh...?

Yui: Subaru-kun...Did you come and get me, perhaps?

Subaru: ...Don’t be gettin’ the wrong idea now! You see...I’m only here ‘cause I was worried ‘bout the house.

Yui: ...Fufu~

Subaru: Whatcha laughin’ for!?

Yui: Sorry. I felt so relieved as soon as I saw your face, I couldn’t help myself.

It was quite scary by myself after all...

So I’m glad you’re here.

Subaru: Hmph. Look at you grinning. ...Let’s get goin’ already.

Yui: Yeah.

( Subaru-kun...He really did come for me, didn’t he? )

( My anxiety is fading, almost as if I was never worried at all. )

( To think I can feel this way just from being together...I must really love him after all. )

Subaru: Oi, don’t be takin’ your sweet time ...Geez, when are you gonna wipe that grin off your face?

Yui: ...Coming! (1)

ー The scene shifts to the forest in the Demon World

Yui: ...It’s pitch black, huh?

Subaru: That’s ‘cause the lunar eclipse is ongoing. It’s gonna be like this for quite some time.

Yui: ( Which means it’ll be dark the whole time? Seems rather depressing. It’s a little scary as well... )

Subaru: ...

*Rustle*

Yui: Subaru-kun...?

( He grabbed my hand... )

Subaru: ...I’ll hold your hand like this.

Don’t look so worried. There’s honestly nothin’ for you to be scared ‘bout.

...I’m here with you, remember?

Yui: Subaru-kun...

Subaru: So make sure to stick by my side as well, ‘kay?

Yui: Yeah, gotcha. I’ll be right besides you the whole time. 

Subaru: ...I didn’t say ‘the whole time!’. It’d just be annoyin’ if you were to be glued to my side 24/7.

Yui: ...Would that be a nuisance? 

Subaru: When did I say that!? ...Fuck!

You should just stop rackin’ your brain over lil’ things and be with me, that’s all!

Yui: Yes!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall of the Sakamaki castle

Yui: What a lovely place...This is you guys’ house, right?

( Or castle, I should say... )

Subaru: Oi, don’t wander off. Father’s power is protectin’ the place from any outside threats, but even inside there’sーー

ー Approaching footsteps can be heard

Yui: ( Somebody’s here...? )

???: ...

Yui: ( A woman...? )

( She’s beautiful...Although she seems oddly familiarーー )

Subaru: ーー Mom.

Yui: Eh...?

( She’s Subaru-kun’s mother!? )

Christa: ...Oh my?

Yui: ( Ah, our eyes met... )

Christa: How unusual. A guest...?

Subaru: ...

Christa: !!

Yui: ( Eh...? Her expression changed...? )

Christa: No...Stop!! Stay away!!

Yui: Eh...? U-Um...

Christa: Stay away from me!!

Subaru: Che...Oi! Is nobody ‘round!?

Familiar A: Yes!

Christa: Stop! Don’t touch me!! Let me go!!

Familiar A: Ma’am! Please, follow me this way...!

ー Christa is escorted away

Yui: ...

Subaru: ...Haah...

Yui: Subaru-kun...That woman just now...

Subaru: ...She’s my mother...

She hadn’t been actin’ that way as of late...So what happened?

Yui: Perhaps the lunar eclipse is affecting her...?

Subaru: ...You might be right.

Yui: ( The eclipse makes Vampires emotionally unstable, doesn’t it? Is his mother experiencing something similar...? )

Subaru: Haah...

Yui: ( Subaru-kun seems exhausted. Although I can’t blame him after his mother spoke to him in such a way... )

( It must hurt, regardless if she’s being affected by the eclipse or not... )

Subaru: Oi. Let’s just get you to your room for now.

Yui: Sure.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the balcony

Subaru: ...

ー Yui walks up to him

Yui: Subaru-kun?

Subaru: ...All settled in?

Yui: Yeah. Thanks. I can’t believe you had a room prepared even though I came uninvited.

Subaru: If you need anythin’ else, just ask one of the Familiars. They should be able to arrange most stuff.

Yui: Gotcha.

...Are you okay, Subaru-kun?

Subaru: ...How so?

Yui: I’m worried you might be taking what your mother said to heart.

Subaru: ...

Yui: ( She went through a lot...to the point of no longer being able to live by herself, didn’t she? )

( Worried about her well-being, Subaru-kun would go check up on her every now and then. )

( However, with the lunar eclipse ongoing...I wonder if she’s even more unstable than usual? )

...I’m sure it’ll get better once the eclipse has passed.

( This is pretty much all I can say... )

Subaru: ...Yui. Come here for a sec.

Yui: Sure.

Subaru: Take a seat.

Yui: ...? Okay.

Subaru: Lend me your shoulder. ...Even just for a lil’ bit.

Yui: Eh...?

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“Your hand’s so tiny and slender...Yet it’s strangely comfortin’...”

“When I imagine something might happen to you...I nearly lose my mind. Stay by my side, okay?”

Yui: Subaru-kun...?

Subaru: ...I’m glad you’re here. Just by doin’ this, I feel like some weight has been taken off my mind. 

Yui: ...

*Rustle*

Subaru: ...What’s your deal?

Yui: ( ...He seemed down, so my hand subconsciously moved to pat his head... )

You didn’t like it?

Subaru: ...I never said that.

Yui: ( ...It must be hard. To have your own family push you away in such a way. )

( She seemed normal when our eyes met though... )

Subaru: Haah...

Yui: Hey, Subaru-kun? You don’t have to push yourself in front of me.

If you’re worried about your mother, I’ll do everything I can to help as well. 

Think about it, a stranger might have a better shot at getting through to her...

Subaru: Don’t think ‘bout it. I can’t let you do that.

She can get extremely violent when she snaps. You might get hurt if you’re near her.

Yui: But...The Lunar Eclipse makes her unstable, doesn’t it? In which case it might be better to have someone there by her side.

Subaru: Even if that were the case, there’s no reason you should carry that burden.

Yui: Burden, you say...

I just want you to cheer up, that’s all.

Subaru: ...

...Don’t come cryin’ to me afterwards.

Yui: Don’t worry. She’s your mother after all.

Subaru: ...You fool.

Yui: I hope the Eclipse will come to an end soon.

Subaru: They last long here. It won’t be over any time soon.

Yui: I see. You said that before, didn’t you?

Subaru: Yeah. That’s why they’re even more annoyin’.

Yui: I wonder if you’re letting me dote on you because of the Lunar Eclipse as well.

Subaru: Haah!? Dote on who!? 

Yui: I mean, usually you’d get upset if I were to pat your head like this, no?

Subaru: ...Then, should I get upset now?

Yui: Eh?

Subaru: ‘Cause you keep spoutin’ bullshit...I’ve become thirsty for your blood.

I’ll suck you harshly like usual.

Yui: ...But you’re always gentle, you know?

Subaru: I’m not. ...I won’t be kind with you.

ー Subaru bites her

Subaru: Hah, nn...Nn...

Yui: Uu...

Subaru: Nn...Phew...

Hah...Oi, Yui. Tell me as soon as somethin’ happens, ‘kay?

Yui: ...Of course.

( See? He really is gentle after all... )

*TIMESKIP*

Christa: ーー Nii-sama!! Where my dearest cousin!? (2)

Yui: !?

ー Yui wakes up in her room

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: That voice just now...!? 

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah...You woke up as well, Subaru-kun? The person shouting earlier...

Subaru: ...It was mom’s voice.

Yui: I wonder if something happened...? I’m worried so I’ll go take a look.

Subaru: You’re actually gonna look after her?

Yui: I mean...I can’t just turn a blind eye either.

ー Yui walks towards the door

Subaru: Ah, oi!

ー She leaves the room

Subaru: ...Will she be okay...?

ー The scene shifts to the library

Christa: Aah, why!? Why won’t anyone come!?

...Nii-sama...

*Knock knock*

ー Yui enters the library

Yui: Um, pardon the intrusion.

Christa: ...! You...

Yui: I could hear your voice so...Um, are you okaーー

Christa: Cordelia!?

Yui: Eh?

Christa: Cordelia...! Why are you here...?

Yui: ( Cordelia...? The name of the triplets’ mother...? Is she mistaking me for her, perhaps? )

Christa: Aah, Cordelia...I pity you as well.

I find it surprising you have stuck around this castle for so long. Do you still believe he loves you?

Yui: U-Um...

Christa: But I know. That is...a horrible misunderstanding. 

There is no love to speak of. Both you and me...We’re only being used by that man.

Yui: ( Used...? )

ー Subaru approaches them

Yui: Ah, Subaru-kuーー

Christa: ...!! No way! You’re here again!?

*Woosh*

Subaru: Ugh...Oi, cut it out!

Christa: No, don’t take one step closer!!

*Woosh*

Christa: Don’t show me your face!! Keep those filthy hands off me...!!

*Woosh*

Yui: ( ...! She threw a lamp at him...! )

Subaru-kun!

Subaru: Wha...Idiot! Don’t step in!

*THUD*

*Shatter*

Yui: Ow...!

Subaru: Yui!!

You fool...! You’re bleeding!

Yui: I’m fine...More importantly, your mother...

Subaru: ‘Fine’, my ass! Let’s get outta here!

*Rustle*

ー Subaru drags her away back to their room

Subaru: ...Has it stopped bleedin’?

Yui: Yeah. I’m fine now.

Subaru: Doesn’t it hurt?

Yui: It was just a scratch.

Subaru: Really? You’re a chick...and a human one at that. Shouldn’t you like disinfect it or somethin’?

Yui: You’re way too much of a worrywart, Subaru-kun. This kind of small injury will heal quickly, even when you’re human.

( Thank god one of the shards just lightly scraped my skin. Subaru-kun didn’t get hurt either. )

Subaru: ...

...You shouldn’t be here after all.

Yui: Eh?

Subaru: If you stay here, you’ll definitely get hurt again. I’m gonna get you back to the human world before that happens.

We’re leavin’ at once. Before mom becomes even more crazyーー

Yui: W-Wait, Subaru-kun! You’re blowing this way out of proportion!

The skin’s just a little scraped, so I promise you I’m fine. Don’t worry, okay?

Subaru: ...

Christa: Hurry up and bring Nii-sama to me! I am waiting!!

Subaru: ...Let’s step outside. You’re comin’ with me.

Monologue

Along the way after we left the manor,

I told Subaru-kun about what happened earlier.

That Christa-san,

had called me ‘Cordelia’. 

Yui: She seems to have the wrong idea.

Subaru: ーー About you?

Yui: Yeah. Seems like she thinks that I’m Cordelia. ...I wonder why?

Subaru: ...It just proves she’s not in her right mind, no? Did she say anythin’ else?

Yui: Um...Ah, right...

Subaru: What?

Yui: She said that...She’s being used by someone. 

Subaru: Used...? The fuck?

Yui: I don’t know myself but...According to her, so was Cordelia.

Subaru: I don’t get it...Oi, Yui. You should stop botherin’ with her as well.

Yui: But...She seemed calm when I was with her.

( Or rather, that might have been Cordelia’s influence... )

Subaru: ...I know she loses it as soon as she spots me.

Looking at it that way...It might be better if I wasn’t ‘round her.

Yui: Subaru-kun. Don’t put it like that. 

Subaru: ...It bothers me. It seems very likely you’ll get hurt if we stay here any longer. 

She may be my mom...But I’m not lettin’ her harm you.

Yui: ...Thank you, Subaru-kun.

But because she is your mother, I want to get on well with her.

Subaru: ...Che...Why are you so persistent...?

Yui: Because I loーー

Subaru: ...Nevermind, don’t say it! You’re just gonna spout weird shit again, aren’t you!?

...Fine. Do as you please. However, there’s one condition!

Whenever you’re with her, make sure I can jump in to save you at all times, ‘kay?

Don’t let yourself be alone with her in a private room. That’s the condition.

I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

Yui: ( I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need to be that worried... )

( This just proves how concerned he is about me...as well as Christa-san, right? )

Yeah, sure. Thank you, Subaru-kun.

( ...I hope that one day, the three of us will all be able to sit down together for a nice chat... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Yui simply responds with うん! which would be ‘yeah!’ or ‘sure!’ in English. However, that didn’t quite make sense as a response to his question in the translation, so I adapted it a little. 

(2) 兄様 or ‘nii-sama’ is literally an affectionate or highly formal way to refer to one’s older brother. However, it is not uncommon in Japan for the word ‘nii-san’ or ‘nii-sama’ to be extended and used for elder, male people (whether other family members or even random strangers) by those who are younger than them. I did a quick Google search on the ‘calling your cousin onii-san’ topic in specific and found multiple responses of native speakers who admitted to doing this. 

To avoid confusion and since ‘my dearest cousin’ is a bit long for my liking to use repeatedly, I will simply use ‘Nii-sama’ in my translation.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Sakamaki Prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #subaru sakamaki #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfsubarudarkprolog

[delicrieux]

Prompt 56 and/or 66 for Corpse perhaps? 💕

･:* ☆ author’s note: dont let the title fool u this fic is actually just angst </3 also it takes place before quarantine i dont condone partying during the pandemic lmao. from the prompt list: 56. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing.”

masterlist.｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

He’s worried. Hardly a surprise - he’s always worried about something. Anxiety makes him rigid. It’s hard to breathe, and for a second he thinks he has forgotten how to do that in the first place. It’s the swirling crowd, the bright lights, loud music and perfumed, hot air. Makes his head spin. It’s hard to focus. Maybe that’s why he didn’t stay for long. He never meshed well with people - they rejected him somehow, or perhaps it’s his anxiety that told him that they did. He had wandered around that fucking house for two hours, trying to find a quiet corner to just relax, yet to no avail.

One minute here, maybe two, was all it took for him to become inexplicably overwhelmed.

He came because you asked. Friends do things for other friends and he knew you were looking forward to it - it was the only thing you were talking about the past week. Picking out an outfit, fixing your hair, indulging in something stronger than lemonade or sparkling water. You had taken the time to coordinate your clothes with his. Matching color scheme, the two of you had shown up dressed to the nines. People flocked you instantly. You got swept away in the current too quickly for him to realize he was left to fend on his own. 

You found him a few times after that, dragged him to the dance floor. Your hands were pleasant to the touch, gentle and warm. Your smile was a bit sloppy, eyes twinkling, cheeks flustered from the heat and the drinks and the laughter. It made him smile, too. You had asked him where he disappeared to. Repeated the question seven times because he couldn’t hear you over the music. You leaned in in a last ditch effort to find an answer; your breath tickled the shell of his ear. He had no concrete reply to give you. Just here and there.

More searching. The minute handle seemed stuck in place for him. He couldn’t phantom how you could relish in all this noise. He heard remnants of a conversation and your bell-like laughter and found you in the kitchen. People clustered around you. You seemed engaged in a story about some ski-trip gone bad. He felt a pang in his chest, something stuck between desperation and longing, and wanted to join your side instantly and stay there and maybe wrap his arm around your shoulders or-

His mind insisted that he wasn’t pleasant company. What could he offer to a conversation involving five people?

He left to haunt the halls instead. Ten more minutes of torment, perhaps even less than that, and he went home.

His head is still pounding with a headache, even when he lays in bed, staring at his shadowed ceiling. His heart is racing in his chest, oddly reminiscent of the erratic drum of music he had heard at the party. His phone keeps buzzing with an influx of messages. He wills himself to check it.

(NAME) ♡

↪yo the fuck?? ↪ where are u?? ↪ did u go home??? i cant find u anywhere i checked the bathroom twice ↪ sum1 said they saw u leaving wtf??? ↪ you didn’t think to call?? ↪  or text??? ↪ nothing??? ↪ corpse the hell call me NOW

He doesn’t get a chance to text you back, or do anything else for that matter, because his screen flashes with a call and his finger hoovers over the Decline button. He doesn’t go through with it. A moment later your shrill voice fills his ear.

“You alive?!”

Alive? He’s not sure, so he settles with, “Not dead.”

You audibly sigh; he can’t see it, but your hand is resting on your chest, “Thank God. You seriously scared me.” You chuckle nervously, “You’re home, yeah?”

“...Yes. Sorry for freaking you out, I just...wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

“...What? Didn’t want to ruin-- you ruin shit by leaving with me with some assholes. You have any idea how many stories I had to listen to today? Horrible, every single on of them. The party was a bust anyway. I’m gonna be at yours in, like, ten minutes.”

“Wait--” He sits up, “You’re...coming over?”

“That’s what I said, yeah. Unless you don’t want me to, but, uhm, I’m already in my Uber, so--”

“No, no, I don’t mind, I just--uhh--I thought you wanted...to...stay and party?”

“I wanted to party with you.” You stress, “I know you don’t exactly like crowds but when you said yes I got really excited and--and well...Yeah that’s it. I just got excited. Next time we can stay in or go to the movies or something.”

“Shit,” He mutters, “I need to clean my room.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it, but next time? Do me a favor and just let me know when you decide to arrivederci. Send a pigeon. Leave graffiti on the walls. Do something, you seriously scared me.”

His smile is back, and he feels as if he hadn’t smiled in years, “Promise. Thanks, (Name).”

“The hell you’re thanking me for? I’m the one that should be thanking you, since I’m inviting myself over.”

“You’re always invited.” He says, a bit breathless, but now for an entirely different reason, “You’re a...” His tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. Clearing his throat, he continues, steadily this time, “You’re a great friend.”

Right, friend, friends do things for other friends. You’re just being a good friend, nothing more.

“...Oh. Yeah, you’re a great friend, too.”

So why do you sound so disappointed? It’s a feeling he definitely shares.

“See you in a few.” You mutter before hanging up. 

Fuck, maybe he’s still a bit out of it, because he can’t focus again, his mind persistently trailing back to the word friend. It echoes. For the first time in his life it sounds unpleasant.

No time. He’ll figure it out when you get here. You’ll both figure it out. Or maybe you won’t. That idea halts his movements, makes him reluctant to get out of bed. No time. He doesn’t move. Only when the buzzer indicates your arrival behind his front door does he finally get up.

He feels like he’s still at that stupid party. Confused and anxious and for some reason afraid.

All of that melts promptly when he opens the door and finds you there, smiling at him in the lovely way you do. “...Hi.” You say sweetly, quietly.

His heart thuds in his chest. He dips his head in a wordless greeting and steps aside to let you in.

“I forgot to clean.” He confesses as you take off your shoes.

“Literally don’t care.” You utter, “I was thinking we could watch something on Netflix. Something funny. Or bad. Or funny bad. How does that sound?”

That sounds like not talking. Maybe that’s for the best.

“Yeah, sure.”

.

hope you liked it! xx

.

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader #request #angst #sorry lol

[multimilfs]

Farah Dowling x Fem!Reader: Getting You Home

Summary: Anon requested “Hey ummmm, Can u do a farah x reader I haven’t found any and I really really wanna reade one, so if I can thanks”

A/N: Honestly, I was writing this WAY before that was requested, but it fulfills the request sooo... This is obnoxiously long, I’m so sorry skdjhfks, let me go hide. Also, it was so hard to find a gif of Farah, I need some talented giffers to make more :(

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul​ @multifandomfix​

Warning(s): None 

“This isn’t a subject we need to discuss.”

Through the small sound-enhancer, Aisha heard Ms. Dowling’s voice grow tense. Strained with emotion. She didn’t understand what was causing the reaction; she’d only just begun to listen. Usually it felt invasive to listen in, but this felt too interesting to stop.

“Yes, we do. You can’t ignore this forever, Farah.” Silva sighed.

“I’m not ignoring anything. She’s never been relevant to the conversation.”

“She has. We let it slide because you didn’t want to talk about it.” Professor Harvey interjected.

A silence filled the room. The tension was so palpable that Aisha could feel it from her place outside of the office. It nearly made her stop listening, but to her luck, someone broke it just in time.

“I know it’s hard, but she was closer to Rosalind than any of us. She must have said something to you,” Silva prodded gently, “Maybe she left something behind in her files…”

“You don’t think I thought of that years ago?” Ms. Dowling snapped.

“We’re just trying to understand.”

“If you want to understand, perhaps you should visit her grave. Maybe she’ll talk back this time.”

Another uncomfortable silence followed Ms. Dowling’s statement. It left Aisha confused, but she didn’t have time to think about it. She could hear the scraping of chairs as Professor Harvey and Headmaster Silva sighed. They weren’t going to get anywhere with the conversation, so they decided to take their leave before the situation got more tense.

Frantically, the young fairy shoved the sound-enhancer under a cabinet, grabbing a random stack of papers. It wasn’t necessary. The two men barely spared her a glance as they left and Ms. Dowling didn’t leave her office. It left her completely confused and invested; this was something to share with her suite-mates.

----

“Did they drop a name anywhere?”

“No, they just kept referring to ‘her.’ Apparently she was someone close to Rosalind. Very close.” Aisha explained.

“Rosalind was Ms. Dowling’s mentor, who could be closer than that?” Bloom asked, looking around at her friends for ideas.

“Someone who was like a daughter,” Stella said softly, “One of the only things stronger than a mentor bond is a familial one.”

“So… we’re looking for someone who was like a daughter to Rosalind. That’ll be easy.” Bloom said sarcastically.

“It’s better than nothing.” Musa pointed out.

“It’s basically a crumb.”

“Well, then we need to play mouse and follow it. Come on.” Stella had enough of sitting around and waiting. She grabbed a jacket and her phone, before walking out of the room. The rest of the girls saw no other option than to follow.

They snuck through the halls and back to the East wing of Alfea. It felt like they’d gone through all of the information there, but they made an effort to scan it all with new eyes.

Bloom was having an especially difficult time, as she still hadn’t learned enough about Rosalind herself. Now, she was on a mission to find someone who’d known her. She hoped that whoever she was, she could offer her information.

Things grew quiet besides the shuffling of papers and Terra’s occasional humming, when the shuffling grew a bit quieter all of a sudden. Bloom turned to see Stella looking down at a framed picture.

“Stel?” Musa said softly, coming to stand next to her friend.

There in the picture was Silva, Harvey, Dowling, Rosalind, and another face Musa couldn’t recognize. But it looked kinder than all of the others. More gentle.

“That’s… That’s my Aunt.” Stella whispered.

“What?”

“I don’t understand. She can’t be…” Stella’s voice cracked, a rogue tear rolling down her cheek.

“I’m afraid she might be, Stel.” Aisha said, pulling the girl into a side-hug.

“What’s her name?” Bloom asked suddenly.

They were all more focused on comforting Stella, but Bloom had that wild look in her eyes. The one that made them realize she wasn’t going to give this up, not now.

“Y/N Y/L/N, but only after she gave up her title.” Stella said.

Bloom seemed to tear through the files around her, but they yielded barely anything. No information about Rosalind, or what her goals had been. Even less of Y/N, second Princess to the Solarian throne. It was like the memories of them had been wiped.

Letting out a frustrated noise, Bloom felt the papers in her hand burn. The files were no use. She turned, following the hallways out of the East wing.

“Bloom, where are you going?!” Aisha called out behind her.

“To get answers!”

----

Overcome by her anger, Bloom didn’t hesitate before she barged into the headmistresses office. Ms. Dowling looked up at her sharply, her lips pursing.

“Bloom, I don’t have time-”

“Who is Y/N Y/L/N?” Bloom demanded.

Any color that had been there drained from Farah’s face. She looked almost like a ghost, compared to the strong woman Bloom knew. A pang of regret hit her. But then the headmistress seemed to recover from her emotion.

“Nobody you need to concern yourself with.” Farah said harshly.

“She is if she knew Rosalind. Maybe she knew why-”

“Y/N was dead before Rosalind would’ve left you in the Other realm.”

Bloom felt like the air had left her lungs. She’d been poking carelessly around the memory of a dead woman. Specifically one who’d been gone before her situation. She felt horrible about it, but she also felt at a complete loss for words.

“If she had known about you… about what Rosalind was doing, she wouldn’t have let her abandon you. She probably would have insisted on caring for you herself, stubborn woman,” Farah laughed, though it was full of sadness, “But Rosalind killed her, Bloom. Do you see why that is a woman you should be glad to not know?”

“I guess.” Bloom whispered.

“You and I will learn of your background together, but I need you to have patience. I can’t find answers if I’m having to manage you.”

“Right… I’m really sorry, Ms. Dowling.”

“I know.”

As the fire fairy left her office, Farah put her head in her hands. It had been so long since anyone had spoken of you. Though she thought about you everyday. The sudden change was almost enough to make her head spin.

Farah wasn’t herself for years after losing you. Too often was she reminded of you and her resolve would crumble. Harvey had acted as interim headmaster for a year while she grieved. The moment of weakness wasn’t something she was proud of. She’d taken up a strong mantle as headmistress, projecting anything less was an abandonment of her post.

It was still difficult to think about you, but she could never push your memory away completely. Things you would say, how you’d handle a situation, they all ran through her mind. Sometimes she swore that she could hear your voice in her ear, steering her right. Calm and level-headed even in the worst moments.

Opening her desk drawer, she pulled out a small photo. The edges well-worn from the dozens of times she’d held it.

There, looking up at her, was your smiling face. She was there as well, focused on you with a subtle smile. You were holding up your hand and pointing to the new ring there. She couldn’t remember a time where you’d been more happy than that day. It made her heart ache.

She knew that it was important to find answers without Rosalind. For Bloom. For you.

----

“Well? Did you get anything?” Stella demanded, seeing Bloom enter the suite.

But Bloom didn’t respond. She sat down on the couch, as if in a trance. Sad and angry tears in her eyes, waiting to be spilled down her cheeks. The rest of the fairies gathered around worriedly.

“Bloom… Did Stella’s aunt know anything about why you were left in the other realm?” Aisha asked quietly, sitting down next to the fire fairy.

“No, um, Rosalind… Rosalind killed her before she left me there,” Bloom said, voice shaking as she wiped falling tears off of her cheeks. She couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, “Ms. Dowling said that if she’d known she probably would have, um, taken me in.”

Silence followed as Bloom cried bitterly into her hands, Aisha pulling her into a strong hug. Musa winced at the pain radiating off of her friend.

“I could have been raised here and maybe found my birth parents, but now I’ll never know.” Bloom whispered.

While all of the other girls gathered around Bloom, Stella stayed against the frame to her room. Something was bothering her. She was just having trouble figuring out what it was.

“Bloom, when were you left in the other realm?” Stella asked.

“Um, sometime in December. Of 2004.”

The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed frustratedly, before it came to her. Then her eyes widened.

“Something doesn’t make sense.” Stella said out loud.

“What are you talking about, Stel?”

“My Aunt was there on my third birthday. It’s the only real memory I have of her.”

They looked at one another, shock on their faces. Bloom’s eyes sparkled with hope. Maybe finding answers wasn’t completely a loss, maybe you’d known something all along.

“Then maybe she’s…” Terra started.

“Alive.” Stella and Bloom said in unison.

Their eyes met, both of them knowing exactly what to do. But first, they had to convince Ms. Dowling.

----

“I thought we settled this matter, Bloom, I really don’t have the time or patience for this.” Farah sighed without looking up from her work, only one fairy was bold enough to barge into her office.

“Is there a chance she could be alive?” Bloom asked, ignoring the headmistress’ words.

Farah could feel her interest being piqued, but didn’t give it much thought. She’d been there. There was no way that you were alive, not now. Certainly not without her knowing.

“I would know if she was alive. So no, there is no chance.”

“Think about it, Ms. Dowling,” Stella jumped in, “Did you ever bury her?”

She tried to dampen the way her heart lurched. The news of losing you had left her frail emotionally. Harvey and Silva had agreed to make arrangements and she’d never asked for the details, she’d never felt strong enough to hear them.

Taking in a deep breath, she focused her eyes on all of the girls. She couldn’t handle this situation alone. Not if it was heading in the direction she thought.  

“Sit down, girls.”

----

It had taken several hours and many arguments, but they had finally agreed on a plan; Farah would lower the barrier to her underground tunnels, allowing Bloom to speak with Rosalind. Nobody was completely confident in the plan, but they agreed it was likely the best possible scenario. If Farah or someone else went, Rosalind wouldn’t open up. She wanted to speak with Bloom.

That is exactly who they’d give her.

The group trudged quietly through the tunnels, Stella conveniently lighting the way. Bloom was practically vibrating with anticipation. The only thing keeping her with the group was Aisha’s grip on her hand.

Arriving at the small alcove to Rosalind’s area, they all stopped. Farah came to stand directly in front of the young fire fairy.

“You know what to do?” Farah asked.

“Get in, poke around about who I am, ask the questions, get out.” Bloom repeated back with an eye roll.

On a normal day, Farah would have been quick to reprimand Bloom for her actions. She didn’t have it in her today. Right now it was about getting answers, not respect.

“We’ll be ready at a moment's notice, should you need us for anything.” Silva spoke up.

He was standing quietly behind the group of fairies, watching the interaction happen. It wasn’t difficult to read the unease in Bloom’s face; the way her eyes darted around, how she kept rocking from one foot to the other. He’d trained dozens of anxious soldiers to know.

“And we mean anything.” Farah added, giving Silva an appreciative look.

“I get it, but I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

Farah wanted to argue that no, you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, but refrained. They didn’t have the time. It was important that they accomplish this before dinner, so nobody wondered as to where they’d been.

Bloom turned and walked up the small set of stairs, out of sight, but finally laying her eyes on Rosalind and the barrier trapping her. The woman’s eyes opened and she wanted to step back, but didn’t.

“Bloom…” Rosalind’s voice echoed in her mind.

“Rosalind?”

“I knew you’d find your way here.”

“I didn’t think I would. You couldn’t have left some instructions on where to find you?”

“Your mind is not as safe as you’d believe. But it will be, in time.” Rosalind said, eyes almost unblinking.

“It could already be, if you’d kept me here. Why… Why did you send me away?”

For a moment, Bloom nearly felt her resolve slip. She knew the plan, but she also had her own. There were answers she needed.

“It wasn’t safe here.”

“You couldn’t have left me with, I don’t know, my parents? My biological ones? Or my mother, at least. She could have kept me safe in the castle. I could have learned and been protected the whole time.” Bloom said. Calling on all of the pain and anguish she felt, she brought tears to her own eyes.

“Bloom, what are you saying?” Rosalind’s face scrunched up ever-so-slightly inside the barrier. For the first time in a long time, she felt she was truly missing something.

“My mother. She was in Solaria the whole time and you took me from her! I could have grown up with her and learned magic with Stella, under my aunt Luna. It all could’ve been perfect.”

The fire fairy’s voice broke on the end of the sentence, closing her eyes against the emotions she was feeling. She was trying not to say too much or over-do anything.

“You think that your mother was the princess of Solaria?”

Rosalind’s laugh echoed in her ears, grating on her nerves. It may have been an act, but her anger at the other fairy wasn’t. She’d been abandoned and lied to for too long.

“I know she is. She told me herself, which is something you couldn’t have bothered with!” She snapped.

“That’s impossible, you silly girl. The only way Y/N could do anything is if Luna-“

Bloom couldn’t help the triumphant grin that spread across her face. Rosalind’s eyes widened just enough for Bloom to feel satisfied. She’d tricked a mind fairy, arguably the best to come from Alfea. And it felt good.

“So she’s been in the Solarian castle this whole time,” Bloom states, crossing her arms over her chest, “Thank you so much for that bit of information.”

“You little-“

“Little what? Whatever you call me, you still have to admit that I beat you. Anyway, thanks for your help. I won’t be needing anything more from you.”

Bloom turned to leave, ignoring the protests in her mind from Rosalind. The cruel comments and unhinged promises. It all faded out as she walked away, coming face-to-face with her friends.

“Well?” Farah asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s somewhere in the Solarian castle. Queen Luna apparently has her there. That’s all I could get before she realized what was happening.” Bloom said with a shrug, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

Farah took a step back, looking with wide eyes to Silva. He looked just as surprised as she did. It wasn’t everyday that you found out someone you cared for had never died at all.

“How do we get to her?” Professor Harvey asked, looking between his two friends.

The unfortunate thing was she had no idea.

“I can do it.”

They all looked to Stella, who was attempting to look confident in her decision. It wasn’t working very well.

“I won’t ask that of you.” Farah said.

“You’re not. I’m offering. She means something to me too, and I’m the only one who could get around the castle without suspicion.”

Despite their desires, they knew Stella was right. She’d be the only one who could get to you. It didn’t matter what they all wanted, they had to focus on logic first.

“Alright, then. What’s the plan?”

——

It was relatively simple. Spring holiday had only been a few days away. Instead of the girls going home, Queen Luna allowed them to visit the castle with Stella. Just this once.

They agreed not to go searching on the first night. It’d seem too eager and they’d probably cue someone in on accident. The second night was better.

So once Queen Luna had seemingly gone to bed, the fairies left Stella’s room to ‘explore’ the castle. Through the winding hallways and up the ornate staircases, they managed to avoid contact with anyone else. Until they reached the door separating the West wing from the rest of the castle.

Two guards stood inside of the door, in front of a bedroom. Stella couldn’t see inside, but she knew without a doubt you were there. Nobody was allowed in the West wing.

“Alright, I’ll go in and talk to the guards. You hide until I give the signal, alright?” Stella whispered.

“Stel, what if you can’t hold the illusion for long enough?” Terra asked, looking worriedly to her friend.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been practicing. Now go, hide.”

Smoothing down her skirts and straightening her shoulders, Stella walked through the door. The guards on the other side froze upon seeing her.

“Your highness, you’re not meant to be in this part of the castle.”

“It’s quite alright, Damian. My mother knows I’m here to see her.” Stella said confidently.

After putting on an act in school for so long, it was a breeze when it came to the guards. Though for a moment she worried they would try to confirm with her mother. Then their shoulders relaxed, sending her worry away.

“Of course, your highness. Go in.” Damian bowed and opened the door.

Letting out a slow breath, Stella stepped into the room. It was large, but it felt almost clinical. Everything was perfectly neat and tidy, except for the desk space. On it were spreads of books and notebooks with words written in scraggly cursive.

Just in front of the window was a chair. The large back and arms nearly hid you completely, but she could make out the top of your head.  

Stella suddenly felt lost for words. She’d heard countless stories of you, had brief memories from when she was a child. This was completely different. How did she introduce herself? Or even explain why she was here?

“You know, it’s quite rude to stare.”

She froze as you turned around, a teasing grin on your face. But then you looked confused. You didn’t recognize her.

“I’m sorry, I meant to say something…. I just lost my words.” Stella said quietly.

“And who might you be? You’re certainly not my usual guard.” You asked.

You stood up slowly, a wince on your face for the briefest moments. Then you gave Stella a kind smile.

She couldn’t help but notice your arms; bare from the elbow down, with painful cork-screw shaped pieces of metal digging into your skin. From them your veins were dark against your skin, black and unnatural.

“You’re injured.” Stella said, looking around for something to help you.

“Shackled, but the injuries come with it.” You sighed.

“Those are meant to do that?”

“They’re meant to be a short-term option. So not really, no, but Luna didn’t have another option.”

“She did this to you?”

“Dear, who else do you think had the power to?” You asked, looking confused, “You never told me who you were.”

Overcome with an unusual shyness, she attempted a smile. It probably looked more painful than it should have, but it was the least of her worries.

“I’m Stella, auntie.” She admitted.

Your eyebrows almost raised to your hairline as you looked Stella over. The last time you’d seen one another, Stella was a three year old with long, blonde pigtails. It felt like there was no way it was really her. But you could see it was, in the way she smiled timidly and wrung her hands together.

“My Stella? Well… you sure have changed.” You breathed out.

“It’s crazy what 14 years will do.” She joked.

You couldn’t help but laugh. She was absolutely right. 14 years did a lot to people, especially you. Now that you knew who she was, you attempted to pull your sleeves over the tools binding your magic.

“Why are you here?” You asked.

“Oh! I’m here to break you out, actually.”

“Break me out?”

“That’s what I said. I brought some friends to help, too, they’re just waiting for me to signal them.”

“Stella…. I don’t think that is such a good idea. Your mother would be furious.” You said, gently lowering yourself onto the stool by your desk.

“Don’t you want to leave? To get out of here?” She asked.

“Of course I do! More than anything… but not if it risks you getting hurt. I’ve lived a nice life. You won’t get the same thing if you anger your mother.”

A feeling of guilt rested in your heart as you remembered the life you had; how Rosalind, and subsequently Luna, had cut it all short. You ached for everything you once had. A sprawling life at Alfea, your fianceé, classes full of students to teach. All of it was lost in an instant. Taken away by the woman you’d seen as a mother to you.

You wanted to return to that life more than you’d ever wanted something. But you knew your disappearance would lead to a harsh punishment for Stella. The hurt Luna could inflict was something you’d never wish on her.

“She’s already ruined my life, Aunt Y/N. Please just let me do this one thing for you.”

The vulnerable, open anguish on Stella’s face put the severity of everything into context. In a castle full of people, it was likely that you were the only one willing to stand up to Luna. And she’d subsequently stifled your magic and thrown you into a room. Nobody had been there to protect Stella.

“Alright, but I need to get out of these cuffs,” You said, referring to your arms, “It’s going to take a lot of concentrated magic.”

“Let me get my friends.” Stella said.

You nodded, watching as she rushed to the door, before slipping through it. Absentmindedly, you wondered how she was going to sneak her friends into the room. Then she came back, seemingly alone, until she let the magic drop. Four other fairies stood with her; examining you and the room closely, with open interest.

“How much magic do you need?” Stella asked, stepping forward.

“A lot, but don’t strain yourselves. If you can’t get them off, we’ll find another way.” You said with a reassuring smile.

The girls all looked determined, but you didn’t want to create an issue. Draining your magic could be deadly. And for first-years who had little practice with large magical events, it would be all too easy for such a thing to happen.

“All you have to do is focus your magic on them.”

Looking to one another, then to you, they nodded. Then they each placed a hand on the shackles and closed their eyes. Usually it was a witches’ eyes that signalled the use of their magic, but now it was their hands; glowing various colors as they focused.

The inky blackness that had flooded your veins was receding slowly, until the shackles popped; falling to the floor with a hollow clang. For the first time in 14 years, your senses were overwhelmed. You could finally feel that faint hum of magic in your blood again. Color returned to your cheeks as you smiled.

“Thank you, girls. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve come,” You said honestly, “Now, what’s the plan?”

“We’re supposed to plant an illusion box near the door, so the guards won’t know you're missing yet. Then we can get you off of the castle grounds. Someone is waiting there to take you back to Alfea.” Bloom explained.

“I can hold my manipulation long enough to get us all out by the gates. So we don’t have to worry about being seen.” Stella added.

“That’s a lot of magic, Stel.”

“I can manage it, I’ve been practicing.”

Though you worried, you weren’t going to waste time arguing. The more time you spent standing around, the more time you were losing to get away. It was now or never.

----

“Will you be okay?” You asked Stella.

Of course you were excited to cross the barrier, to be free again. The vehicle waiting to take you to Alfea made your heart leap. You’d dreamt for years of leaving, now it was finally real. But you didn’t want anyone to take the fall for your escape.

“She likely won’t realize until we go back to Alfea.” Stella said with a shrug.

Overcome with a burst of emotion, you pulled Stella into a tight hug. You pulled the other girls into it as well. Staying there for a long moment, you wished that it was easier to express how grateful you were to these girls.

You pulled away, giving them all a watery smile. Then you turned, walking through the barrier slowly. And you didn’t look back; too focused on the vehicles sitting right in front of you. The dark color so obtrusive and bold, like a stain against the bright foliage. Out of place, and yet, comforting.

One of the dark doors opened, the hollow noise sending a jolt up your spine. A familiar face stepped out and sent another wave of emotion through you. Longing, completely and wholly shooting through your heart. An emotion you’d hidden from even yourself.

“Farah?” You called out, voice full of disbelief.

“Y/N… Oh, Y/N…”

Farah moved towards you, enveloping you in her arms. It almost didn’t feel real; like she was a mirage in the drought that’d become your life. But she was.

She was skin and bone and warmth. Her strong arms made you feel safe, grounded to the earth like you’d only been wandering before. You could feel the hum of her magic too. Strong tears threatened to fall as you buried your face in her neck.

“Farah...” You whispered, like the same way you’d whisper a prayer or blessing; the reverence dripping from your lips.

You dug your nails into her clothing, holding her as close as she could get. For just a moment, the reality of the last 14 years vanished, leaving only the two of you. Only you and your fianceé locked in a powerful embrace.

She pulled away reluctantly to cup your face in her palms. The warmth there soothed you. Closing your eyes, you leaned into her touch.

“Darling, you’re shaking.” Farah whispered, worry evident in her tone, “Come. Let’s get you back to Alfea.”

Absentmindedly, you noticed your friends were in the front seat, but you didn’t give them much beyond a wave. Exhaustion was creeping in slowly. The brightness behind your eyes was turning into something else; an alluring nothingness. And leaning your head onto Farah’s shoulder, you let yourself succumb to it.

----

“How are you feeling?”

Squinting through your eyelashes, you could see the subtle frown on her features. The worry lines on her forehead. It made you smile and release a huff of amusement. For so long, you’d been the one to worry about her. Oh how the tables had turned.

“I’d feel better if you’d lay here with me.” You said softly.

Farah sat on the edge of the bed with a small eye roll. You noticed that she was wearing her nice clothing, which meant it wasn’t as early as you’d thought.

“I’ll lay with you for five minutes, then I have a meeting.” She conceded.

The worry lines on her face eased as you gave her a blinding smile. While you’d been asleep, a million scenarios had run through her head. It’d overridden her rational thought. The concerns plagued her until now, when she saw that you were doing better than expected.

She stretched out beside you, smoothing a piece of hair behind your ear. You leaned into the gesture without thinking. The comfort she brought you, simply by being near, was enough to sustain you for ages.

Lulled by her soft breathing and the gentle kisses she pressed to your skin, your eyes slipped closed. Sending you back into a deep sleep.

----

As it does, Alfea moved forward without issue. You fell back into your old duties with a renewed sense of purpose. It was almost like before; the lunches with Farah, Saul, and Harvey, the challenges a school full of students presented. Except for one distinct difference; Farah handled you like you were made of glass.

What made it even worse, was that she refused to discuss what’d happened. She didn’t want to think about all the time you’d been separated. Or the horrible way you’d been kept there. She thought ignoring it would make all the pain leave.

But you knew things would never heal unless you faced them with her. Farah was strong, but she could never hurt someone she cared for.

“Farah, can I have a moment?” You said softly one evening, as the headmistress was writing something in warm lighting.

“I don’t know if I can, darling. These need to be filed tomorrow morning and I’m behind.” She answered without looking up.

Crossing the room, you gently pried the pen from her hand. When she only grabbed another one, you used your magic to hide the papers. Then she finally looked up at you with a scowl.

“It’s important.” You said.

“So important it can’t wait?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It already has - since we returned from Solaria.”

Uncertainty bloomed on her face as she looked away from you, anxiously spinning the engagement ring on her finger. You drew in a deep breath. In the face of her uncertainty, you needed to be strong.

“We can’t ignore what happened, Farah. Nor do I want to. I suffered, yes, but I’m still me. You can’t keep looking at me like a victim first, person second.” You said, placing your hand on top of hers.

“It isn’t my intention to… see you like that. But I’m reminded of how much time passed, how I failed to-”

“None of that. You thought I was dead. If you had known I was alive, you would have come for me. Which you did. You have never failed me, Farah Dowling, so don’t act like you have.”

There was a beat of silence. Long and repressive, nearly causing you to falter in your words. But you summoned the confidence Farah had taught you long ago. This was not something you would yield on.

“How can I make this right?” She asked, looking curiously into your eyes.

“Treating me like a normal person would be a nice start,” You smiled, “I’m not suddenly breakable, though there will be moments when I need extra support. We can just… take it one moment at a time.”

“One moment at a time.” She agreed.

You leant forward and stole a kiss, making her smirk. Then, with a wave of your hand, her papers reappeared. She let out a soft laugh.

As you disappeared into your shared bedroom, things felt a little easier. You felt almost like you had before the events. All thanks to a few cunning fairies and their gorgeous headmistress.

#farah dowling #fate: the winx saga #farah dowling x reader #headmistress dowling #farah dowling imagine #fate: the winx saga imagine #fate winx #wlw #wlw imagine #feb2021 #multimilfswritings

[cherrykenobi]

even if for a moment

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader

warnings: i realized i characterize obi like a gentle himbo the other day so there's that ig

note: heeyy. i’m back lol how have u all been <3

There is something indisputably attractive in the way he holds himself.

He is the model citizen, you think. Words drip from his tongue like the most lascivious wines - he is firm and unwavering in his work, loyal to a fault. He is exquisite. Perhaps the Galactic Republic’s most valued general and yet, when it comes to love, you find Obi-Wan Kenobi is horribly sophomoric.

Not that you mind, of course. He remains charming in every sense of the word, and is all gentle smiles despite his fumbles. Imperfection, perhaps, is one of the greatest points of your patchwork relationship. You realize this in the long corridor of the Jedi temple, fingers barely brushing your robe as you walk. Your hurried pace seems to attract no attention except for the dust motes that clutter the windows and pirouette with your movements. 

You haven’t seen him for months and months, neither of your schedules having allowed for a moment of peace since the war’s beginning. There’s a thrumming, youthful anticipation humming just under your skin, the kind that warms you to your toes and reverbs in every step farther, because you’ll see him today - really, truly see him.

Days’ worth of scenarios flitter through your head, daydreams of weeks past finally coming to light as the familiar, buoyant feeling buckles itself into the base of your throat. It’s a welcome sight after so long. You’re not even sure how much time will be granted for the two of you in private company but you’ll be seeing him, at the very least, and you suppose that’s enough for you. It’s enough for now. 

The hallways have never seemed longer or maybe your legs have never seemed shorter but you’re gearing up to complain about it when you speed walk into a solid, sturdy presence. The apology barely leaves your lips before a deep, familiar laugh finds itself at your ears.

You should have known the whole ordeal wouldn’t have gone like any daydream.

“Going somewhere, General?” Obi-Wan asks, and the smile that slants his lips is more vivid than any other dream. 

“Don’t call me that,” you say, but your mouth is already tilted into a smile of your own. The remark is quiet and kind and you hope he can hear it over the roaring in your ears.

“You seemed very dutiful rushing off like that,” he insists, “one might think you have more important places to be.”

A beat of silence. A tender, pulsing thing that bursts all in an instant. His smile softens and curves into something like affection, something that slumps his entire demeanor and turns it into dogged relief at the sight of you. “Hello, darling.”

It seems more intimate, somehow, and your nerves pick up all over again. A spark of challenge finds itself to your eyes and to the tone in your voice instead, and you tug at his sleeve in playful complaint. “Four systems in three weeks and you, on none of them? Stars, Kenobi, where have you been?”

“I’ve been around,” he muses, and then chases the opportunity to take your hand in his, calluses much more gentle than they ought to be. “Perhaps the issue is that you are just unable to catch up with me.”

It’s a comfort that you’ve missed sorely, nerves flickering in your chest and drying up like rain at the ease of it. “Not a chance, only I think that you’ve just made yourself scarce on purpose.”

“Do you really think that I would ever hide myself from you?” 

“No,” you reply, perhaps much faster than the question warrants. The moment is far too tender for a Jedi’s corridor and something in you calls to let go of his hand but you can’t quite, not just yet.

Seeing him standing here after so long is still… surreal. His hand is in yours and it’s grounding, centering, sane. Only the fact that Obi-Wan lives and breathes is a miracle - here, amongst a war so unrelenting you can count on both your hands the number of times you’ve tasted death on your lips this past month; tangible. You wonder what he’d say if you told him this, told him that the gentle heave of his chest makes you more grateful than you’ve ever known, that the shine of his eyes looks like a sky your soldiers have not lived to see. 

You wonder if he thinks the same.

Your thoughts seem to reach him - they always do, there’s always something about him that knows - and Obi-Wan’s grip seems to tighten for a moment. His smile shies into a soft sort of grimace.

He brings your joined hands to his lips, presses a kiss. Everything in you calls to find privacy because the sun has seen so little of your love that it seems out of place to indulge in such a place. Not out here, not where someone could turn a corner and meet with blatant disrespect of all the Jedi Order has worked to represent. You look at him.

“—How long are you—”

“—Are you staying until—”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“—no, only that I—”

The resulting laughter is private, soft and mingled and good. It makes you feel lighter, somehow.

War hangs so much heavier on your shoulders since the last time you’ve met that the very idea of missing him has wrapped itself into an afterthought, set in feather downs and laid to rest against the jagged edges of battle. Here, though, as you share clumsy laughter, it seems worlds removed from the hostility and bloodshed you have come to know. 

“Walk with me?” he asks. Obi-Wan’s head ducks down for a moment, his gaze meeting yours with the same unpolished sort of affection that you’ve become so fond of. Some unsaid restlessness sits beneath your interactions, some fear of leaving and an inability to ever spend a moment’s peace together. 

The undoubted terror of departing and never seeing him again aches at your throat, bunches into a lump, and you want nothing more than to ignore it, even if for a moment. 

You swallow it whole, and steel yourself. “Of course.”

tags:) @obirain

#when u and ur bf are big important generals but u barely see each other and whenever u do the looming threat of war keeps u from enjoying #each others presence like u really want to and u just gotta deal with it #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan fic #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x y/n #sw prequels #star wars imagine #sw imagine #obi wan kenobi imagine #my writing #emu writes

[blossom-hwa]

hello~ this is random but i personally associate minho with the colour white. So could u write a minho + white drabble? happy 4 year anniversary to u btw ^^

of course I can! thank you for the request <3 I hope you enjoy this!

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

Reminder: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

~

Title: Under the Snow, I'll Say Goodbye

Pairing: Minho x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 615

Triggers: implied death

~

Snow falls soft, gentle on the ground as Minho trudges across the dirt, head bowed under the cold sun. It sparkles like a gem in the sky, but the rays offer no heat to soothe the chill.

It seems that with you gone, all of the warmth in the world has faded away, too.

The procession follows quietly behind him, only the soft sound of footfalls on the snow and the occasional sniffle filling the silence. Minho leads them all, the widower of the body held in the coffin that he supports, along with three servants with whom you were close.

It's easy, almost too easy to lift the wooden box that holds the shell of who you used to be. The box itself must weigh more than your body does - Minho remembers those last few horrible weeks when you couldn't eat, couldn't drink for fear of it coming back up, when your body was wasting away and there was nothing he could do about it.

When you married, your vows spoke of love, of support, of protection. Minho swore to them.

Yet in your time of need, he was powerless in the face of your pain. A failure of a husband. A failure.

Only when the servant in front of him stops does Minho realize it's time to halt his steps. Snow swirls in the air, drifting into the hole already dug in the ground. He helped dig it, thrust the shovel into the cold dirt over and over until blisters burst all over his fingers, but even that pain couldn't compare to the tears in his eyes as he watched the grave grow deeper, deeper, under the pounding of his shovel.

At the time, digging your grave, Minho didn't think he could've felt worse. But now, staring at the hole with his blistered hands covered in bandages, he realizes he was naive.

Letting you go hurts more than anything he's ever done.

His white robes flutter in the air, bleak, colorless, fading into the falling snow. In the coffin, you're dressed in white, too - but for purity, for innocence, for devotion. Minho wears white for mourning. You wear white for passage.

With all his heart, Minho prays that wherever the white of your robes takes you, you will find more happiness than you did on this plane.

Slowly, slowly, Minho lowers the coffin into the ground. He mechanically takes the shovel and spreads dirt back over the box. Someone appears with a makeshift tombstone - the true one will replace it in two weeks, when the official mourning period is over - and Minho allows them to place it at the head of your grave, to mark the death of someone who should never have passed so early or so young.

Snow swirls from the sky. Minho looks up at it, barely flinching as flakes fall on his face, and once again asks the heavens, the pure white heavens, why did you have to be the one to go?

And once again, the pure white heavens do not answer for him. Perhaps because they realize the injustice of their crime.

Minho doesn't care that the mourners watch as he steps forward and kneels on the cold dirt of your grave. He doesn't care that they watch his fingers reach out to touch the white tombstone. He doesn't care that they watch, that the trees watch, that the heavens watch as he closes his eyes and bows his head forward to mourn you once more, a life taken too early by the white winter and the ivory heavens.

"Goodbye," he whispers.

His farewell fades into the snow, wisping away on the wind.

#districtninewriters #destinyversenet #kpopscape #stray kids #skz #lee minho #lee know #stray kids minho #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho scenarios #stray kids lee know scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids oneshots #stray kids imagines #drabble #angst #tw death #historical!au #under the snow I'll say goodbye #4 year anniversary drabble game #lina answers #anon #scriptura delirus

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Milkshake.”

You guys seem to be enjoying it, so here is some more fluff with Eris .

Hope you enjoy!

Eris sat on the couch in the living room; the TV was on, but she wasn’t really paying attention as her eyes kept drifting towards the front window which looked out on the front lawn and the street beyond that. Jim was sitting across the room for her and Martha was working on another clothing pattern for Eris. She had really latched onto the idea of making clothing that was comfortable for her, which Eris appreciated immensely though she wasn’t sure if she'd be confident in wearing them.

People would think she was weird.

She glanced out the window again, hoping to see a car pull up.

He said he would be here today sometime in the afternoon. She knew it was only 11, but she desperately wanted to see him again despite her nerves and her continual feeling of isolation. Why did she care about this man so much? Yes he had saved her life, yes he had provided half of her DNA, but no, he hadn’t chosen to have her, no she hadn’t grow up the normal way with him as a father figure, and no he still wasn’t really in her life.

He was a busy man.

He was important.

And what was she to get in the way of that? 

Nothing, that was the answer. He was big, important and successful, and she was a violation of his privacy.

These thoughts rolled around in her head as she sat on that couch. She knew the vast majority of them were irrational, made by her own mind to make herself feel inadequate, but she just couldn’t push the thoughts away. She wondered when she had turned into this person, someone who wondered about their adequacy and worried about their appearance. Once upon a time she remembered being powerful and terrifying to the people who had wronged her and her little family.

She remembered being confident in what she was doing.

Perhaps it was the loss of her goals and purpose that had driven her to this.

Once the others started getting adopted and brought into new families her work had grown less and less, and she became obsolete and lost in a universe that was vast and unknowable. The others were being taken care of, but no one had returned for her.

No one had seemed to consider that she was just like the others.

She had been created against her will and had never been given time to grow up.

With all the responsibility of other people’s thoughts in her head.

What was she doing?

It was only then that a sudden thought from Jim jogged her from her spiraling self doubt. With his human hearing, he could make out a car pulling into the driveway. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at the window as the car stopped and the door opened.

Her heart jumped in her chest as Adam stepped out into the early morning sun. He was a little different than she remembered. He stood straighter and held his head higher. He still wore the eye patch she remembered and still had the same messy hair, but there was something about him that changed in the months since she had last seen him.

Behind him, a large blue shape exited the vehicle as well and stepped onto the pavement.

It was him, Sunny, the little doctor named krill, and Adam’s dog.

The dog’s mind was very very strange, driven by impulses and instincts as she snuffled around in the grass, but when she turned back to look at Adam, there was such an intense feeling of love and admiration, Eris had to pull away.

Adam rubbed the dog’s ears and walked up towards the house as the other two followed behind.

Martha got up to grab the door and Jim turned in his seat.

The door opened, and the group of them stepped inside, waffles, the dog, running in to greet Jim, who she had an unusual affinity for.

Martha hugged Adam tight, “So good to see you.” She pulled back hands to his arms, patting them with a frown on her face, “You’ve been working out.”

He smiled slightly, “Thank the Neo-Spartans for that.”

He reached over and shook his father’s hand, as his arms were busy with the pile of dog that had scooted her way halfway onto his lap, “Looking good.”

He nodded to Sunny who stood behind Adam, “I heard about your Sainthood. Congratulations. That’s a big accomplishment.”

Eris felt the pride radiating from Sunny as she lifted her head into the air, “Thank you Jim.”

Martha nodded, “You’ve come along way since we first met.” She gave sunny a hug too 

Martha’s thoughts, once cold towards Sunny had warmed up over the past year. A small part of her even began to see Sunny as another daughter, thought that was the fact about Martha Eris had come to notice. She tended to adopt any little lonely thing she happened to meet; even the little doctor who walked in last.

She smiled, “Dr. Krill I see you haven’t died of complications relating to stress yet.”

The Vrul’s antenna twitched a little and he hummed his amusement, “Not for all of your son’s trying.” Despite how calm the little creature seemed, Eris could see in his head as a myriad of emotions flew through him. He thought that this place was a complete death trap, and had to constantly remind himself that humans were more durable than they looked.

In a way she thought it was kind of cute that he would worry about his companions so much.

Then Adam’s eyes turned to her.

She tried not to listen in on his thoughts, really tried. She didn’t like to pry into people’s minds. A lot of people didn’t like that when they knew what she could do, but she couldn’t help as the flood of strange emotions came pouring from the man’s head. He was a little different than other humans, he had a lot going on in there, and his thoughts and Emotions hit him hard and fast.

What did she expect.

Anger

Bitterness 

Betrayal 

annoyance 

She was invading his privacy, injecting herself into a family she had never been invited into. WOuld he resent her for that? 

But instead she felt.

Excitement.

and...

Nervousness?

What did he have to be nervous about.

The man walked over, and to her surprise picked her up into a crushing hug lifting her feet completely off the floor. She marveled for a moment at how strong he was, forgetting that humans tended to be on the strong side, second only to drev. He set her down smiling, and she felt a jenuine well of happiness wash over her tinted slightly with guilt, though he did a good job at keeping that to the back of his mind.

“You know what, I think you’ve gotten taller.”

She smiled, “Or you’ve gotten shorter.”

He laughed, “That is a complete possibility.” She continued to smile as he patted his chest, “I am getting old after all.” He looked over towards Jim, “Aging like my old man.”

“Shut up.” Jim harumphed, “I can still kick your ass.”

Martha frowned, “Are you implying that I am old Adam.”

He turned to smile at her, “Not a day past 21 mother.”

Martha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “Someone is looking for brownie points.”

“That depends, did you make brownies?”

She rolled her eyes, “No, I did not make brownies.”

He frowned.

“But I did muffins.”

“Score.” He said flopping down on the couch next to Eris as Krill floated to sit in the chair next to Jim.

The two of them watched the game, Jim seeming to enjoy Krill grimacing at every play and screaming at the TV for letting the humans knock each other out. He especially seemed to enjoy the medical descriptions of all the horrible issues they were probably having from all of that running into each other.

“So, how are you liking earth.” Adam asked, draping one of his large arms over her shoulders. Eris was struck with how nice the gesture felt and looked up at him, his head tilted to the side.

She smiled slightly, “I like it, it’s so warm and bright, and you have good food.”

“You can eat human food huh?”

She smiled and nodded, “We haven’t tried everything yet, but I really like strawberry ice cream.”

He snorted, “Lord she developed David’s poor taste in cold flavored delectables.” 

For a moment she worried she had really upset him but was soon proven wrong when she could tell he was just teasing her, “So how are you a herbivore or a carnivore.”

Eris felt herself blanch a little bit. If her blood had been more visible through her marble Starborn skin, she might have gone pale.

“I uh…. I haven’t tried eating….. An animal yet.” She shivered at the thought. How could she? How could she eat something that used to be alive?

He smiled seeing the look on her face3, “Don’t worry, no one is going to force you too, though I dare say meat is good, your probably won’t regret trying it at least once.”

From across the room she could hear dr. Krill’s thoughts. He was more similar to a plant than he was to an animal, and the thought of consuming something that was living also baffled him, Though a part of him admired how “metal” It sounded. Eris frowned as she looked at the little doctor.

She had red the mind of Vrul before.

They had been strange to her, very alien in their processes, but Krill.

Well she might have thought he was just a very strange human had she not been able to see him.

The humanizing phenomenon perhaps>?

She couldn't be sure.

“So Eris, how about my offer from earlier, how would you like to go see where I grew up.”

She turned to look at Adam, who was staring at her expectantly. 

She shuffled her feet awkwardly, “I would like that.”

“I will show you all the great and wonderful places I got beaten up. It will be a grand time.” She looked inside to see that he was just joking again. He did have some bad memories associated with the town, though the vast majority of them were good. She could see and feel the vibrant joy of fireworks and colorful parades as they passed through his memory. She could see cold calm lakes and feel wind blowing through the forest.

She nodded.

Martha turned to look at Sunny, “I’d like to keep you and Krill behind tomorrow if you don’t mind.”

Sunny looked up from here she was staring intently at the TV yelling over Jim’s shoulder at the reff who, to her, had made a very poor call.

“Of course, what do you need us for?”

“Alternative clothing designs for aliens. I think there is a large untapped market, and I want to see what I can do with it.”’

Adam grinned across the room at sunny, “Ah, she has finally roped you into being one of her guinea pigs. Enjoy.”

“Adam was such a good little guinea pig, and looked so good in a dress.”

Adam snorted and waved a hand, “I rocked the regency period as I have said before and so I shall say again.”

Eris leaned her head against Adam’s side as she listened to the ongoing banter between the group of people.

She tried not to pry but couldn’t help soak up the memories that popped to the surface of his head. Warm sunlight through an open window, the sound of a sprinkler, and the yell of children’s voices in the distance.

For a moment she became jealous of it before hiding that away in the back of her head.

THere was no use resenting others for something that wouldn’t change.

She would make the best of what she had.

That night, Eris slept in the same room as Sunny, whose memories were remarkably less pleasant than Adam’s, while Adam got his old room back. He would have shared with Krill, though Krill didn’t sleep, and spent most of the night watching late night television, which he found both strange and haunting in ways he wasn’t so sure was good.

She drifted in and out.

She wasn’[t entirely sure if her sleeping patterns were normal. She needed to recharge like the humans did, but seemed to go into a trance rather than into real sleeping. She dreamed, but hose dreams were more hallucinations which appeared about the room around her. Occasionally, she learned that she was able to share the dreams of others, and so took a ride along with Adam as he was joyfully able to fly without the need for a jet or a jetpack.

The feeling was so vivid she jolted awake when it was all over, sure she was going to find herself hurtling through the air.

That morning they had muffins, which melted in her mouth and made her insides growl. They weren’t as vocal as human innards, but apparently the smell of the muffins woke something deep within her.

Sunny was presented with a bowl of dandelions Jim had picked from the backyard that morning.

He was a little nervous that it might seem rude or degrading, but Sunny definitely seemed to appreciate the gesture. Krill didn’t need anything other than a glass of water, though Martha opened the curtain on the back sliding door to let in the early morning sun.

It fell across both her and krill, and her body hummed with its energy.

Adam stood and turned to look at his father when breakfast was over, “Can I borrow the car keys.”

Jim looked over at him skeptically, “You… drive… I don’t know about that.”

Adam frowned, “Oh come on, I fly spaceships for a living.”

Jim snorted, “yet, somehow every time you get in a vehicle that has wheels on it, you turn into my granny with a led foot.”

“Promise I will be safe.”

Eris smiled,  his memories reminding him of all the jokes about being a bad driver .

Jim just rested his hand on his forehead and looked at Eris, “Lord knows I have never known a man with such poor command of motor vehicles. Ans you see if have seen this boy fly a jet in formation with seven other jets four feet apart and his hands are rock steady, but put him in a car, and he overcorrects into the ditch.”

Adam frowned, “That was my FIRST time driving.”

Jim finally relinquished the keys to him, “take the car, it’s an automatic. Everyone knows you shake her brains out if you tried to take the truck.”

Adam grumbled and took the keys, “Its the 41st century dad why do you even still need a stick shift.”

He crossed his arms, “If we are ever attacked by an EMP burst, that car is the only thing that is still going to be running, now get out of here.”

Eris followed Adam out the door, her little black cloak swishing behind her.. She hadn’t wanted to wear anything to obvious yet, so martha had grudgingly decided to at least make her something that looked better than her old ratty sweatshirt. It was a short cloak thing with a hood, and she thought it looked kind of nice,   though she kept the hood low over her face. Adam slid into the driver’s seat of the car and Eris got into the other seat clipping on her seatbelt as he turned and began backing out of the driveway.

They jolted a bit as he moved into first and he glanced over at her, “Don’t tell my dad.”

She smiled somewhat as he inched forward and then began to pick up speed. The look of concentration on his face, and the white knuckles of his hands almost made her laugh. She could see him flying in his memories.

But for a man who loved to fly, he sure hated to drive.

“I’ll show you around the two first, than we can get lunch and after that we will find places to get out of the car and take a look around. Does that sound good?”

She nodded, though she wouldn’t have argued with him if he wanted to ride in circles all day. It was nice being here with him. Since they had last met his thoughts had calmed down significantly.

In the back of the car, his dog waffles sneezed and then rested her chin on the console.

Eris looked sideways at her sensing that the animal was looking for attention. She reached out a nervous hand and stroked the dog’s ears. In the back seat her tail thumped against the upholstery, and she grumbled happily.

“And out your right side of the window is the local high school  or what I like to call the department of corrections against happiness. Eris winced, there was a lot of thought coming out of that building, and none of it very pleasant.

“Thank goodness I only went there for like a year.” he grinned, “I was flying planes after that.” He tapped his chin, “I can never decide if it counts as me dropping out of high school or graduating early, or transferring schools.” he shrugged and kept going, “That’s the middle school on the left, arguably just as bad as the high school but with younger people, and right next to that is the elementary school.”

“So many?”

He shrugged, “Yeah I have no idea why they do it this way, but that’s the way it has been done for a very long time.”

Eris had obviously never gone to school. She didn’t really need to.

She could know anything she wanted to know as long as someone else around her knew it. She could read and write and do math well enough. It was a little harder with muscle memory as that wasn’t something she could read. So, while she knew how to make most of the clothes that Martha could make, she might not be so good with a sewing machine.

“That’s the park. I used to like climbing up to the top of that tree in the middle, and down over there is the drive in movie theater. It’s one of the only ones left in this country, kind of more for nostalgia than anything..” he was able to lift his hand rom the steering wheel and point over at something else, “You have the grocery store over there and then that parking lot is where all the redneck kids used to go to get drunk.”

Eris leaned forward feeding off the memories those strange places gave him. He showed her little hidden spots down by the rivers where his brothers and him used to go swim. He showed her places of significance for the town, and even those locations where he had been sure he had seen an alien. The thought made her smile considering he had one in his car now.

Eventually he turned away and pulled into a small diner on the edge of the town.

He looked over at her, “Best place to eat in town, I know it doesn’t look like much, but trust me get yourself a milkshake at the very least.”

She nodded and nervously got out of the car with him, walking by his side as he made his way across the parking lot and to the little building. A bell dinged as they walked in,  and she found only a few people sitting inside this time of day. The two of them seated themselves at a booth and Eris looked around,

It wasn’t like the many other buildings Eris had seen. It was old with a checkered floor pattern, and red upholstered bar stools. All of it looked new enough and clean enough, though something about it just felt old.

There was a jukebox playing music in the corner, something that had been obsolete for almost two thousand years. No wonder Adam and Martha liked this place. Martha with her doctorate degree in the information age, and Adam with his obsession over turn of the century rock music.

They were greeted just then by a pleasant faced portly little woman with grey hair.

Hermemory was a vibrant one.

She had worked here for a very long time, a sweet southern bell moved up from the south and married to a man in town. She had worked at this diner for over three decades and seen everything that passed through. Adam remembered her as someone who had been a fixture of the town, and his memories were pleasant.

When he had been alone and hurting, he had come here just to be in a safe environment, and this woman had had pity on him and made him a milkshake for free before sitting and talking with him when her shift would allow.

He smiled up at her and she lit up in surprise.

“Why if it isn’t sweet little Adam!” She looked him up and down, “Not so little anymore, lord it was only yesterday you and your brothers were in here causing trouble.”

He smiled, “And you angela, looking as beautiful as the day I met you.:

She snorted and waved a hand, “Oh stop, I’m old and wrinkly.”

“Old, you don’t look a day over twenty five.”

She laughed again, “Your flattery won’t work here dear. I know you have a penthouse on the moon.”

He snapped his fingers, “Pity.”

She turned her head to look at Eris, “And who is your friend.”

He looked across the table, “I uh, this is Eris.” Eris hunkered down in her hood a bit, “She’s my…. Daughter?”

Angela looked skeptical, “Boy i’ve never seen you look at a woman sideways, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Adam smiled a bit ruefully, “Well it’s complicated.

Eris slowly raised her eyes towards the woman’s curiosity and as soon as Angela saw her face she put a hand over her heart and held up a hand, “Lord have mercy!” Eris braced herself for the disparaging thoughts, but instead the woman sat down next to her, “Why dear, why don’t you take off that hood and show us your pretty face.” There we go, and look at that long gorgeous black hair. You know them fancy modeling places in the city might just eat you up.”

She turned to look at Adam, “Aliens? Really?”

“She was grown from my DNA, but…..” He paused mulling something over before deciding to speak.

“But I WAS dating a different alien for a while.”

Angela did not seem surprised.

“For a while? Something went wrong?”

“I screwed it up.” he sighed, “Still trying to see if I can get back in her good graces, but who knows.”

Angela just smiled and shook her head, “You were never going to be normal, Adam, but not that that’s a bad thin.: She stood and looked down at Eris, “What can I get for you.”

Eris cleared her throat and in a small voice, “A milkshake””

Adam nodded up at her, “Strawberry, that’s her favorite.”

She nodded, “And your usual?” 

“Yes please.”

She smiled at them and walked off with a pleasant wave. When she came back Eris learned he was right about their milkshakes. It was so good and filled her mouth with just enough flavor. He polished off a milkshake and a Hamburger, and Eris really had no idea where iit all went. He was a black hole when it came to food.

Angela gave him a hug on his way out, and even spared one for Eris before commenting on her hair again, which Eris would have blushed at if she could blush.

Afterwards he took her just a little out of town to the top of a tall hill. On this hill there was a tree and a tire swing with a picnic table. Clouds rolled lazily over the sun as he sat down in the grass and she sat next to him. She could hear dogs barking in the distance, and somewhere the elementary school was out for recess.

Adam closed his eyes and leaned back in the grass.

“Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my love for space that I forget just how much I love Earth.” He sighed and the two of them could smell freshly mowed grass and pine trees.

She lay back with him.

“I was thinking about maybe staying here with your parents for a while.”

“Your grandparents.” he corrected eyes still closed.

She felt her heart beat faster, “Yeah, if they’re ok with that.”

“I don’t see why not. Mom always liked having someone around to help her with her projects. She uses dad when she can and he suffers silently for her, but I think she'd enjoy your company.”

“You do?” Eris wondered 

“Well I don’t see how she couldn't. I enjoy your company.”

She felt a thrill through her insides.

He turned to look at her, “I AM sorry I can’t be…. more. “ his words didn’t say as much as his thoughts could, and it were those  that helped her understand what he really meant. He would offer to take her in any day of the week, but that would mean her being alone more often than not while he was away, and he didn’ want to do that to her. 

He thought she deserved better.

She wouldn’t argue with him about that, for she understood his reasoning and sentiment and tended to agree.

Both of them knew that his parents were a pretty great idea.

She could be happy here

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

what about....... 💻 for thomastair, with the plot "there's only one bed"? thank u 🥺

i know we're all going off about ariadne & alastair right now but I wanted to get this posted!! thomastair fluff with a little angst. i hope you like this, it was a lot of fun to write! pls check the end for disclaimers, i also cross-posted to AO3. only content warnings are discussion of grief and brief mention of racism.

prompt: “there’s only one bed”

“You’re in luck!” the innkeeper declared. “There are four rooms left.” 

“Thank you, sir,” James responded without question. Four rooms, eight people. “We’ll take them.” James paid the gentlemen and turned to his friends. 

Lucie pouted. “I suppose that means Daisy and I can’t share a room.” 

It was a trying journey, dragging a group of eight along into rural England, but they needed to find the portal that continued to allow Belial a connection to this realm, and their only leads were here. It was the sole way to stop Belial for good. It began as just the Merry Thieves, of course, but then Lucie and Cordelia caught wind of it, and they couldn’t refuse. From there, it was Alastair, who refused to allow his sister to go without him, despite the animosity that still sat between him and the other boys, and Jesse, who insisted that this was the only way to save Grace and free her from Belial’s - and their mother’s - control. As such, the eight of them departed. It might not be ideal to travel with so many people, but it did allow them to split into smaller groups relatively easily - unless, of course, those groups were sharing a room with each other. 

Without Alastair and Jesse, it would be simple: Lucie with Cordelia, James with Matthew, and Thomas with Christopher. However, no one really knew Jesse all that well apart from Lucie, and they certainly didn’t trust Alastair enough to leave Jesse with him for a night. Most logically, the girls would stay with their brothers, but Lucie had been excited about the idea of a ‘sleepover’ with Cordelia all day. The weather was beginning to become treacherous, as it sometimes did during English winters, and they knew they would need to retreat to an inn that evening. 

“Nonsense, Lucie,” Thomas said a little more quickly than seemed logical. “I can stay with Alastair, and I’m sure one of you doesn't mind staying with Jesse.” He eyed his friends. “You two should enjoy yourselves; it’s been a difficult couple of days.” 

Lucie’s eyes lit up eagerly. “Oh, Thomas, are you sure?” 

Matthew’s eyes had darkened and he repeated, “Yeah, Tom, are you sure?” 

Alastair rolled his eyes and ignored the fact that they were solely debating who would have the displeasure of spending the night in the same room as him. 

“I said so, didn’t I?” was Thomas’ reply. 

“I’ll stay with Jesse,” James offered before the discussion could continue into more hurtful territory. 

The innkeeper led them to their rooms, and they settled for the night. 

Alastair gritted his teeth when he saw that instead of two single beds, there was one double. He sighed. “I can go ask for extra blankets; I’ve slept in worse places.”

Thomas paused for a second in confusion. “Don’t be daft, Carstairs, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us.” He turned his head sideways. “Though it might be a bit short…” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I said, don’t be silly. We’re here to rest, that’s all.” 

Alastair grunted but didn’t push it further. They continued in relative silence as they took turns changing behind the folding screen and freshening up at the wash bin. Finally comfortable, Alastair settled into the armchair beside the bed with the book he’d brought along and tried to consume himself enough in the reading that he could ignore that just a few feet away from him was the very tall, very muscular, very attractive man who hated him.

It wasn’t working. 

“What are you reading?” 

Alastair bit his lip. He hated when people interrupted him while he was reading, but he supposed he wasn’t really reading at all, just pretending to. The cover of the book was plain, a deep red leather with no writing. Whenever he was around folks who were not his family, he was careful to position himself in a way that no one would be able to see the writing inside - writing that did not use the Roman alphabet. He always felt more comfortable with Thomas, though, for some odd reason. He sighed. “Divan-e Shams.” He tilted the book towards Thomas so he could see a bit of the Farsi poetry written inside. 

“Would you read some to me? I’ve forgotten my reading material.” 

Alastair flashed him an incredulous look. “What an important thing to forget.” 

“Yes,” Thomas sighed. “I have realized. So…?” 

Alastair rolled his eyes and did his best to translate. “My desert is without end, my soul, my heart must tear. The world here-” 

“No, no,” Thomas interrupted. “In Persian.” 

Alastair pushed away some of his shock. After all, Cordelia had said that Thomas had been studying the language with Lucie. “Right,” he amended before beginning again. Around the same spot, though, he cut himself off. 

“What’s the matter?” 

“It’s just… it’s meant to be sung. It feels strange saying it.” 

“Sing it, then.” 

Alastair stared at him for a moment. Was this some sort of trick? Was he going to run off to his schoolboy friends the moment he was finished to laugh about what he had done? Was he doing it to get revenge? He pondered all of the possibilities, but his mind rested on just one thought: that perhaps it would be worth it, to play into some cruel trick, if it meant he could say that he’d sung to Thomas Lightwood, even just once. 

“I mean… You don’t have to, but you can. If you wanted,” Thomas said quickly, realizing that he might have made Alastair uncomfortable. 

Alastair cleared his throat and began to sing. He made sure to keep his voice soft and low as he made his way through the ghazal, careful to not allow anyone to hear through the walls. Cordelia would never let him live it down if she heard. He finally looked up at Thomas, who was staring at him intensely. 

“That was beautiful.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you understand any of it?” 

Thomas grinned. “Not a word.” 

Alastair chuckled. “That’s alright. Mevlevi - I believe you folks call him Rumi - was a genius. He crafted phrases in a way… Well, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything else quite like it. He gives new meanings to old words and uses quite a bit of wordplay, speaking of love and loss and longing… I used to think it was a tragedy, truly, that English speakers could not understand, but now… it’s nice. Like a secret only I, and, well, Persia, have access too.” He bit back a smile as he rambled. While the books he had were from his mother, she never had much of an interest in it all, nor Cordelia, so he’d never had anyone to muse about the poet with before.

“I can see why you enjoy it so much. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard something so beautiful before. I didn’t even know you could sing.” 

Alastair felt his brain sputter a bit. He’d become so entranced with the language before him that he’d forgotten that he had just sung it to Thomas. He felt his face flush, and he was grateful that it is difficult to see against his dark complexion. “Oh… It was nothing. I mean, I don’t, really. It’s just something my mum taught me.” 

“It’s incredible,” Thomas said in awe, his face glowing a faint pink. “I, uh, I write songs, you know. I mean, I’ve never told anyone, least of all you, so, you wouldn’t know, but now you do. Just in my head, I mean. Well, sometimes I write them down. I’m not very musically inclined.” His face was growing redder by the second. 

Alastair was careful not to grin too widely. “Sing one, then.” 

“What?” Thomas squeaked. 

“Well, you don’t have to, but you can, if you want to.” 

Thomas threw him a quick glare for repeating his words and then took a deep breath. He was silent for a bit, but then he began to sing, careful not to look towards Alastair. “I woke up thinking you were still here, my hands shaking with regret. I've held this dream for such a long, long time, and now I want to wake up to the rhythm of a wild heart that beats, that beats like a drum. 

“Your light, it follows me in darkness. I'm trying hard, but I can't win, and I've played the victim for a long, long time, and I wanna grow up from the rhythm of a younger heart, it leads, just like a river runs.” 

Alastair stood from the armchair and moved to where Thomas was sitting on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “That’s beautiful, Thomas,” he said softly. “I didn’t… I know I didn’t know her, but I’m sure she’d love it.” 

Thomas turned away from him sharply, his lip trembling and tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. 

Alastair took the other boy’s hand, cupping it firmly between his own, as if just to say, I’m here with you. “It’s alright.” 

“No, it’s not,” Thomas said, trying futilely to wipe away his tears. “We were having a moment, and then I ruined it.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he replied gently. “You’re allowed to have feelings, Thomas. You shouldn’t just push them away.”

Thomas scoffed. “What do you suggest I do then? Mask my pain with cruel, horrible lies about those who have done nothing to deserve them like you do?” 

Alastair dropped his hand and stood up, backing away from Thomas. He was silent for a moment. “You’re right. You are. But I’m trying, Thomas, I really am. I don’t want to…” I don’t want to be my father, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. “I don’t want to be the kind of person who takes my hurt out on others anymore, and I’m trying. I swear it.” 

“I know,” Thomas said softly. He was silent for a moment. “I understand why you did it.” 

Alastair’s jaw tightened reflexively. 

“Matthew said some awful things about… about the way you look, and your father, and… the incident. You were in a bad way already.” 

Alastair was speechless. He’d forgotten that Thomas was present for that. He hadn’t shared any of it with Thomas, not his insecurities about his heritage, nor his father, and certainly not the horrible, world-altering guilt over Clive’s death that still sat in the depths of his soul years later. 

“That doesn’t make what you said okay.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

“You weren’t trying to hurt me.” 

“I was not.” 

“You were trying to hurt Matthew.” 

He sighed. “I was.” 

“And you did.” 

“I did.” 

“And perhaps he deserved some of it.” 

“Not what I did, though.” 

“No, not what you did.” 

“I took it too far.” 

“You did.” 

“I know. I’ve known since the moment I said it. I’ve regretted it since the moment I said it.” 

“I know.”

“I don’t think that it’s something that can be fixed, though.” 

“With Matthew? Maybe not.” 

“What about with you?” 

“There’s nothing to fix, Alastair.”

“I thought you hated me.” 

“I wanted to hate you because you hurt Matthew. But… I think the world is just a little more complicated than I’d like it to be.” 

Alastair sat back down on the bed, though farther from Thomas this time.

“Is that… Is that why you dyed your hair? Because of the things he said?”

Alastair attempted to hide the way he physically flinched. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” 

“Do you think he’s the only one?” he interrupted. “Do you think I haven’t been laughed at or ridiculed or worse, suspected to be dangerous or a thief, my entire life just because of how dark my hair and eyes and skin are?”  

“I’m sorry,” was all Thomas could find to say. “Matthew still shouldn’t’ve said those things. I’m sorry I never stopped him.” 

He’d left Alastair speechless yet again. The thought had never crossed his mind before, or perhaps it had, that Thomas could have ever spoken to Matthew about the kinds of comments he made on Alastair’s appearance. Though, the longer he pondered the idea, the more he wondered if he had held some sort of small resentment because of it, and never realized. “That wasn’t your responsibility.” 

“Perhaps not, but I could have tried.” 

He stared at him for a moment. Never in his life had felt so seen, so understood. In fact, he had many carefully built walls to protect against just that. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“How do you… just know everything?” 

Thomas half-rolled his eyes. “I don’t know everything. I just watch, and I observe, and I try, somehow, to understand. You’re not as complicated as you wish you were, you know.” 

He had a startling thought as he wondered whether anyone had ever watched him as closely as Thomas had. “Cordelia would disagree with you.” 

“Hm, I just might have to share with her the secret to you, then.” 

Alastair glared at him, but he was grinning now. “Don’t you dare.” 

“For the record, you know… I prefer dark features. Personally, I mean.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, I’m sure there were many striking dark-haired women back in Madrid.” 

“Hm,” Thomas pondered in an exaggerated way. “I don’t know… Though, there was certainly an attractive dark-haired someone that I met when I visited Paris.” 

“Well, I would hope so,” Alastair deadpanned. “Because according to you, we just shared a moment.”

Thomas cringed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten I’d said that.” 

“Me? Never.” 

“Does this… Does this mean we’re okay now?” Thomas was slow and cautious as he spoke. 

“Yes, I think it does.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I could help you, you know, with your songs, if you wanted, once we return to London. With that one, or others. I can play the piano.” 

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “You can play the piano?” 

Alastair shrugged. “Well, I used to, but I haven’t in a while.” 

“Why did you stop?” 

He bit his cheek as he thought. This was where he should say he grew bored of it, that it simply no longer interested him, or perhaps suggest that they should go to sleep, as they were both dreadfully tired, or even whip out a line cutting and cruel. He had meant what he’d said to Thomas, though, that he no longer wanted to be so heartless and closed off. “I don’t know… I used to play a lot with my mother when I was young. Then, life got too busy… I’d still play, but usually when my parents were fighting or when something was happening that I didn’t want Cordelia to overhear. I could just… start playing and everything else would just melt away. After a while, though, it was just hard to play without thinking about all of the bad memories.” 

There was more he wished to say, about how when he returned from the Academy he believed himself to be too corrupted and too broken to deserve to create anything beautiful, but this was a start. 

“I wouldn’t wish to remind you of any bad memories.” 

“Perhaps we could create some good memories, then.” 

“I… I’d like that.” 

“We should… we should probably sleep. It’s gotten late, and we’re sure to be running around all day tomorrow.” 

Thomas nodded, and they both climbed into opposite sides of a bed that once seemed far too small, but now, too wide. 

The exhaustion of the day finally creeping up on him, Alastair fell asleep almost instantly. 

When he woke, he found himself face first into Thomas’ night shirt. 

His head rested against Thomas’ chest, Thomas’ arm around his torso, their legs intertwined. He stared for a moment into the white of Thomas’ shirt, not daring to move. Should he? They’d flirted a bit the night before, but they were hardly even friends at this point. Was this too much, too far? The other boy seemed to be sleeping soundly, though, and from the sound of Thomas’ song and the circles he’d noticed under his eyes the past few months, he suspected that sound sleep might not be coming so easily to him nowadays. Therefore, the best thing would be not to move and risk startling Thomas from his rest. Besides, the room was quite chilly, and they could use each other’s warmth. 

Content with his decision to not move away from Thomas’ embrace, he allowed himself to fall back into a light, peaceful slumber, however long it would last. 

It lasted, he would learn, until his little sister began banging on their door. 

“Booooys,” she called. “Are you decent?” 

Alastair shot out of Thomas’ arms and fell onto the floor. He quickly straightened himself and hurried over to open it. “What do you want, Cordelia?” 

She grinned. “I just came to tell you that Lucie and I are eating breakfast downstairs. You should get ready.” 

“You could have said that through the door.” 

“I know,” she smirked. 

She started down the hall, and he closed the door, silently groaning. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked. 

“She’s up to something,” he answered. “We never should have left her and Lucie alone together. They probably spent all night scheming.” 

“Perhaps so,” he laughed. “Only one way to find out, though.” 

Alastair sighed. “You’re right. Okay, I’ll get ready quickly and go down, and then in five, maybe ten minutes, you can follow.” 

Thomas gave him an odd look, but didn’t fight it. “Alright.” 

A few minutes later, he joined Lucie and Cordelia downstairs. Unsurprisingly, Lucie had her notebook and was scribbling away while Cordelia nursed a cup of tea. A cup of black coffee sat in front of the seat he was meant to sit in. He loathed English tea, compared to Persian tea it was nothing more than hot water. None of the other boys had come down yet. 

“Alastair!” Lucie exclaimed when she noticed him. “Did you enjoy your night with Thomas?” 

Cordelia giggled. 

“I… We slept, if that’s what you are asking. That is what we were meant to do here, at an inn, wasn’t it?” 

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Well, it was most peculiar, when I went to request an extra blanket last night, well, it certainly was not sleeping I heard from the hallway…” 

“Cordelia, you didn’t-” 

“I did.” 

“You heard Alastair singing-” 

“He was. In Persian.” 

“In Persian,” Lucie said the words succinctly with no expression on her face, as if she was laying out a fact during a murder trial. 

Once again, Alastair was grateful that no one could see him blush. “Did you two actually get any rest last night or did you just spend it gossiping about me?” 

“Not just you,” Lucie replied. “You and Thomas.” 

“Why do you keep saying his name like that?” 

“You’re welcome, you know,” Cordelia declared smugly. 

Alastair let out an exasperated sigh. “What?” 

“It was all part of the plan, Alastair,” Lucie answered. 

“It was quite brilliant, actually,” Cordelia supplied. “It was all Lucie’s idea. She knew that if we were to stay at an inn, Thomas would jump at the chance to spend a night with you.” 

“And he did, as expected, without hesitation,” Lucie confirmed. 

“The only issue, of course, being me, because we’d be far too obvious a pair for him to try to argue against.” Lucie nodded along to Cordelia’s explanation. “So, Lucie spent all day musing about how much she’d love to spend the night with me, just in case the opportunity arose.” 

“And it did!” Lucie squealed. 

“She’s been planning this since the engagement party,” Cordelia finished. 

“The engagement party?” he responded incredulously. “That was ages ago!” 

“And it has finally come to fruition, has it not?” Lucie babbled excitedly. 

He didn’t give her the dignity of replying. “I only have one question, though - how did you know there would only be one bed?” 

Lucie’s eyes widened. “There was only one bed!” she squealed as she began furiously scribbling into her notebook once again.

DISCLAIMERS: I don’t speak Farsi and the translation that Alastair makes is actually from this document. It’s the poem on page 9 and 10 if you want to check it out! Also, the song that Thomas sings isn’t mine, it’s adapted from “Like A River Runs” by the Bleachers. I tried to write something, but I’ve never experienced what Thomas has, and it’s a very beautiful song written about the loss of Jack Antonoff’s sister. You should listen to it! Though, I imagine Thomas’ version to be a bit less upbeat.

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