#hopefully this idea kinda like makes sense. ive had it in my head since i watched the season

[marsbotz]

just like your father

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago crystalized #lloyd ninjago #ninjago s15 #AARARGHH!!!!!!! this took so long for no reason LOL #hope u all like it. i do LAWL #hopefully this idea kinda like makes sense. ive had it in my head since i watched the season #i was gonna do this full colours so i drew a wholee ref and everything. and then i fucked around w a gradient and it looked cool #so here we are #anywayyy i have a lot of feelings abt oni lloyd. im miserable always #this gi was ... not the Hardest to draw . but certainly not enjoyable haha #i wish the designs were more straightforward sometimes. but tats what happens when Lego #artsbotz

[nonranghaes]

your sweet svt drabbles are such an inspiration to me. I've been getting into writing fics slowly by writing just short ones off a single scenario, and i have too many prompts and ideas coming from my head (which is great !) that i already had laid out but i just couldn't find thee tempo to start. Soo I'm trying to get more inspo by reading around tumblr and to my luck i landed here! i found your writing style an exemplar to how i wanted to write (bonus if you'd like to give some writing tips? 🥹). Your drabbles looked effortlessly written, they're simple yet so expressive and visually evocative. Reading them makes me feel like it's easy to just get the idea off my head and picture it in words OK I'LL STOP HASJB it's literally midnight o clock (when the strong urge to give one of my prompts a shot kicks in)

aaaaaAAA AND IF I START CRYIN????

honestly i dont rly know if i have any solid writing tips haha i like reading a lot since it can teach me a lot abt what i like in writing and what i dislike!! + reading helps u pick up on how other ppl describe things and how their writing flow. idk if that makes sense though. like... book i just finished (a death in tokyo) is very to the point and practical with its writing. it was written in a way that i could clearly envision a lot of things and my mind would fill in the holes since its set in a real world setting. other stuff i read might take care in describing things in more detail, but reading higashino's work kinda made me understand further how just plainly stating things can have its own power and paint a picture just as well--just depends on what you're writing and what kind of vibe it should have, yknow?

like. i wouldn't expect a thriller to have the same writing flow as a romance novel, but the gritty details can still have importance depending on what the topic is. little things like that. genuinely, imo, the best writers are those who read a lot and my advice is rly just to kinda read everything u feel safe w reading!!!

also i think ive said this a lot on wooahaes but ive also been writing since i was like. 11. if not younger lol so ive had a looooootta time to practice and refine and get to where i am now and i'll still be improving into the future hopefully!!!

other than that... hmm...

i'll admit this one isn't something everyone can do (and obvs no shame to ppl who can't!) but i always try to envision the space i'm writing and the people within it.

i think for me personally, i care a lot about the physicality of whoever i'm writing? if they're nervous, are they acting shifty? are they wringing their hands? is this a situation they want to get out of, or are they nervous because they're kinda excited for what's to come? how are they vocally, too? are they the kind of person who rambles when they're nervous, or do they get really quiet? is it obvious, or will it seem normal if they're quiet/chatty?

like... with the mark lee drabble where he's nervously dragging out the question of "what if we kissed?" it was kinda important to me to just kinda have him dragging it out because once he says it, there's no way to take it back, and once he says it, the nerves take over in a "and now i must ramble, lets talk about anything but what i just said, so the aquarium-" where even though we don't SEE mark, we still can tell he's a nervous wreck over it all. its little things like that that just kinda stick out to me?

mmm but for my drabbles specifically... i think i kinda function off the fact that i'm not writing an actual fic here? if i wanted to write something longer, i'd put it on wooahaes (and sometimes i do! i've had a couple fics now i was gonna just post as a drabble but then they kinda ran away from me). i've deleted parts of drabbles before because i felt like they were getting too irrelevant. the point of a drabble, to me personally, is to just kinda give somewhat a quick snapshot of a moment. i think my stuff usually takes place in a single place as far i can remember, because changing scenes makes it feel like a bigger thing (barring stuff where there was a short flashback).

i think it can help to have an idea of what you want to capture if you're writing a short drabble. reader/seungkwan caring for one another, minho teasing reader over the cats, reader trying to get one over on joshua (ft seungkwan). occasionally the more fantasy-ish stuff is like "merfolk reader in love w jisung" and "merfolk reader saving minho" or "android!shua being saved from the facility by reader" comes to me, too. i just kinda write purely by vibes and what i wanna write. idk if this helps but i usually do try to have some idea of what exactly i wanna do!! the times i have opened a post and closed it again bc i had nothing..................................... yeah

(obvs no shame in those moments ksdhfds i just always end up sitting there like. what was i doing again.)

ummm idk what else to say!! i can always try to give advice on other stuff if u ever have specific questions but this is all ive got rn <3 good luck!!!!! i believe in u!!!!!!!!

#nonranghaes.asks #asks.anon

[wetwaluigi]

lost hex hc sludge, anyone

so ive had this.. sudo-headcanon about sonics world for a while- meaning its something that crosses my mind on occasion and makes sense on a technical level but realistically they were never going for but there keeps being little coincidences that make me WANT to, so. anyway reminder that the zones in LW are inspired by existing classic sonic zones- some are more blatant than others, windy and green hill for example obviously this was for nostalgia bait but eventually i kinda wondered how from a LORE standpoint they would be similar? what i settled on was that over eons, tiles of the lost hex fell down onto the surface periodically, and as thousands of years passed those fallen tiles began to somewhat... spread/infect the world below, making it weird and sonicy this also is an extension of me believing the lost hex follows a minor flightpath which also means its reach would extend over multiple islands, such as south island, or what i specifically want to mention, the northstar islands so superstars came out recently, and me being zeti-pilled made me keep an eye out on similarities between the northstar islands and the lost hex since they're both classic inspired and theres surprisingly a lot more than i thought? for example (sorry for the picture quality, took these on switch handheld)

why is this the second time we're doing 'beach level with jet streams everywhere and unexplainable gigantic fruit littered all over the place'

why is this the second time we're doing a frozen base with a red machinery color palate another frozen base example in a more modern setting is white acropolis, but not taking place on an island, it looks nothing like these too i feel like this one couldve easily come from idea drought because its very weird how similar the themes and aesthetics are

its hard to explain the similarities of these two past 'ooga booga jungle' without being in motion but i cant be the only one even act 2s focus on darkness when theres a darkness level with no lights in silent forest too is just kind of. weird (considering im pretty sure those are the only two darkness levels in the series?)- didnt get a pic of it but you know what i mean if youve played both

floating brown platforms in the clouds is not like. an obscenely unique idea but id be remissed to not mention it although superstars' reminds me more of sonic adventure than SLW

this 100% means nothing since its a generic pattern, just consider it a silly bonus because it was the first thing i thought of when i played golden capital

(unrelated side note but the aesthetic of this level obliterates pinball carnival and golden capital- anyway) hopefully these are enough examples for now- one of them is a bit too spoilery to show this soon this is a weird hc territory where it absolutely was not what they were going for, but theres a lot of little coincidences here and there that make it work for me personally? most of the coincidences absolutely stem from the fact that both of these games have overall very generic level themes so theres bound to be some overlap, but oh well, its a thought

anyway just figured id rant about this, theres not enough rants on this page despite the amount i have bouncing around in my head

#deadly six #zeti #cheap marble dining tables #sonic the hedgehog #sonic lost world #be real with me should i shut up because i could say a lot more #sonic hcs #oh and by the way i tag non art posts with cheap marble dining tables so if you want future rant stuff look for that tag

[spicy-tomato]

dream taking reader from the back while Friends by Chase Atlantic is playing in the background 👀

-also may I be 🪐 anon? if not that's absolutely fine! ly stay safe!

yooo ive been working on so many things i forgot i finished this one! hopefully its how you wanted it to be cause im v proud of it. heavy angst in the beginning but it ends with rough smut and fluff

Just tell me what youre doin with that other guy

Your friends had invited you to a party, you didnt want to be here but your most recent boy toy, quackity, had insisted that you both go because he wanted to show you off. As soon as you both got there however, he ran off with some of his friends, leaving you to stand around with your absolutely plastered group of girl friends. They all kept talking about this one guy on the other side of the room who they said was “bad news”. You had no idea who they were talking about until your eyes met.

“I bet i could get in his pants first, i dont care how bad of an idea it is.” says one of your friends.

All of your girlfriends are wasted, they want it, they chase it

You couldnt just let her say that about him, as much as you were mad at him you couldnt stand her degrading him like that. “Actually him and i used to mess around, i kinda miss him to be honest….he was always so sweet and perfect to me.” you retaliate to your friends humiliating comment about the guy you regret losing.

“Youre joking. You do know hes literally the biggest fuckboy ever. Theres no way in hell im even letting you go near him tonight, besides you have quackity now.” gemma said, she may be wasted but she was always the mom of the group. You sigh and go back to your solo cup full of whatever clear alcohol you poured into it earlier.

All of your friends have been here for to long, they must be waiting for you to move on

Gemma continued to watch you for the next several hours until your eyes caught his again. Dream was a fitting name for him, he was like a dream come true for you with his dirty blonde hair and soft, freckled covered face. He always towered over you but it made you feel safe.

Girl, im not with it, im way to far gone

As your eyes met you could tell he was gone, his eyes devouring your skin as if he could still see what you looked like beneath your small skirt and crop top. You shudder at his predatory gaze before he gestures up the stairs and walks away, leaving you shuddering and trying to figure out what he was up to.

“Hey, im gonna run to the kitchen for a drink, ill be back in a sec.” you said and gemma nodded as you quickly make your way through the crowded space and up the stairs.

Heart on your sleeve like youve never been loved

You couldnt lie, you really didnt like quackity but after everything went downhill with dream you just needed someone to be there for you and he happened to walk in at the wrong time. As you get to the top of the stairs, dream pulls you quickly into a bathroom and locks the door before pressing you against it.

Runnin in circles now look what youve done

He looked a mess, eyes puffy and red, obviously not all there after drinking so much.

“Look what youve done to me, really look at it. I havent been the same since i let you go, i made a mistake. Please...please come back.” youve never seen him like this, begging for a second chance.

Give you my word as you take it and run

“How can i trust you wont hurt me again. You said that you would never hurt me then you went and did what you did. How do i know you arent lying?” he looks down, one hand reaching out to take yours.

“Let me prove it to you”

Wish youd let me stay, im ready now

“You cant just walk back into my life and expect me to just take you at your word or let you ‘make it up to me’. What you did tore me apart dream” your eyes go dark as you look at him with anger and sadness.

Just give me some time and space to realize

“After not being with you for so long, it made me realize how much i need you in my life” he looks at you with desperation

And what the hell were we? Tell me we werent just friends, this doesnt make much sense

“You told me that all we would ever be is friends when i told you how much i loved you, how much i still love you. After all of that, after all the tears ive spilled for you, you just expect to walk back in here and regain my love and trust?” you take his hand softly, “thats not how it works as bad as i want it to work that way.”

But im not hurt im tense, cause ill be fine without you, babe

“I lied, i told you i would be fine and that i didnt need your or love you like you love me but i lied. I was so scared of you leaving that i pushed you away. Please, just give me one more chance…” he looked so sad as he said that. Opening up was never one of his strong points so you took what he said to heart.

Wish youd let me stay, im ready now

“Then make it up to me.” you smirk at him as he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Make me forget everything you did to hurt me and maybe i'll give you another chance.” he smirks and his eyes go dark with lust before he pulls you from against the door and bends you over the sink. Your phone rings an you check to see who it is

Incoming call from: quackity

You toss your phone to the side quickly as dream starts to tug at your skirt, tugging it down quickly to see you had nothing on under it.

“Its like you came here ready for me to fuck you princess. Being so naughty with nothing on under this skimpy little skirt.” he slaps your ass hard and you lurch forward with a moan. He pulls your hands behind your back, pinning them there with one hand as the other starts to play with you, putting one finger in and pulling a moan from your throat. “Such pretty noises, god why did i ever let a perfect little thing like you go.” he adds a second finger and starts to thrust them relentlessly as you moan and beg from under him, the familiar tune of a song you played for him drifting up the stairs as you slowly come undone below him. He chuckles darkly before pulling his fingers out, dragging a whine from you before he quickly replaces it, thrusting into you all at once and setting a rough pace. He uses his free hand to tug you back by your hair and make you look in the mirror.

“Look at how much of a mess you are for me, no one else can make you feel like this princess, youre all mine.” he finishes his sentence with a particularly rough thrust that makes you scream out, coaxing an orgasm you didnt even know you were so close to out of you as he keeps going. You watch your form in the mirror, seeing how ruined you looked with tears running down your cheeks and ruined makeup. He laughs behind you before pulling you up to his chest and moving the hand that was pinning your behind your back to your throat, applying light pressure. You let out a silent moan and throw your head back before he leans down and bites it.

“Such a dirty girl, getting off on my hand around your neck” he puts more pressure on your neck before biting above his hand. Your eyes roll back as you cum around him again with a muffled scream. He pulls his hand from your neck and starts to bite and suck on it, his hips stuttering as he comes closer to his end. “S-so fucking good for me princess, never gonna let you go again” as he say that he fills you up with a gutteral moan and you throw your hands back to grip his hair. You both take a second to come down before he pulls out, causing you to whine before he helps you put your skirt back on and turns you to face him.

“Give me another chance?” he smiles softly at you.

“Only if you take me home.” he nods quickly and takes your hand, leading you down the stairs an past your friends and your “boyfriend”

“Hey babe, where are you going with that asshole?” quackity asks before trying to pull you away from dream.

“Actually quackity, we’re over...sorry!” with that, both you and dream rush out of the house and to his car before getting in. he takes you back to his apartment and you both curl up on the couch, you laying on his chest with a content smile as he pulls a blanket over the both of you. You fall asleep in his arms, knowing that it was just right.

#dreamwastaken #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken x reader smut #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader smut #dreamwastaken x reader #tomato smut #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp smut #dream smp x reader smut

[anotherhellchild]

📁❤️ I really like your head canons and wanted to see if you had any about Bakugou’s home life

oh boy okay well, tbh im in camp 'mitsuki and masaru bakugou are assholes' so disclaimer right away: This is not a mitsuki/masaru friendly post.

also, i got most my inspiration/ideas from Sif, her hc's and fics are amazing.

This is gonna be very general probably and also pretty messy/ all over the place but if anyone wants me to elaborate or clarify then just lmk. 

ALRIGHT SO, first and foremost, i think the bakugou’s r really neglectful. Theyve always worked very busy jobs together in the fashion industry and they go on lots of work trips and stuff. i think that from the moment they deemed it possible, mitsuki and masaru have been letting katsuki stay home alone for long periods of time. as katsuki kept getting older and more independent (which he had to be) I imagine theyd gradually start leaving for longer and longer. 

also, i think that the communication in the house is TERRIBLE. like, often times mitsuki and masaru would just not inform katsuki of their whereabouts and katsuki wouldnt inform them of his either cause,, nobody ever asked/cared. So most of the time katsuki’d just find out his parents are gone whenever theyre literally not there and then its just like, ‘shit, nobody made dinner’. or smth. 

and, obviously, the bad communication does not stop there. I feel like especially when he was younger, mitsuki would contradict herself on lots of things (as lots of parents do) like ”you are the child and i am the adult, therefore you must listen to me” but then she’s also like “You are not a child, stop acting like one and get your shit together”. Little katsuki would get so frustrated at this and so confused. I imagine that eventually he’d realize he can never be in the right with her, and thats when he starts resenting her a lot which builds up.

oh btw, I should mention; i dont think katsuki was planned at all. I dont think that mitsuku or masaru wanted to have a kid but then they did and it kinda threw their life around (obviously). mostly for mitsuki i think this effected her career quite heavily for a time and she’s blamed that on katsuki ever since. so she’s always resented him on a level.

But yeah, as i was saying, i think mitsuki and masaru r those types of people that were just never fit to be parents. they dont have the patience or care that u need for a child and it shows. I think masaru is the type to ignore and mitsuki is the type to get frustated too easily and lose her cool. So whenever katsuki was being ‘annoying’ or ‘bad’ he’d immediately be shut up or ignored. No time for explanations or reasoning.

Now, if we go back a step,, katsuki is a super independent kid. a consequence to this is that he’s had to teach himself a lot of things and sometimes those things just arent right. He doesnt know that though because he’s had to collect his knowledge from all over the place, which he thinks is normal. so then for example: maybe he’s fought with a kid at school and the bakugou’s are called. They’re both extremely mad at him but he doesnt understand why. If he gets hit, why would he not be allowed to hit too? Is that not how it works? WOuldn’t that be unfair?

but yeah, because he’s basically had to figure the world out himself, with mostly bad influences to look up to. he’s got a pretty messed up worldview. 

Now, i ALSO think that despite mitsuki and masaru not really caring about katuski in general, they DO want to have that ‘we have a good kid’ status, yknow? like, they cant have katsuki embarrassing them or something. I think he’d be dragged along to a lot of places he never wanted to go (dinners, fashion shows, whatever) and forced to wear all fancy clothes and act all neat with no reward. consequences for ‘being a little bitch’ as his mom puts it, are not pretty.

he’s a smart and talented kid too though, and it seems, even to masaru and mitsuki, like he doesnt have to do much for it. which makes them think he’s lazy and stuff and thats not good. so they expect him to work for everything he does at 100% . again, consequences are not pretty.

generally as well, i think there are so many fights in the house. katuski speaks up whenever he disagrees with bullshit and even though he’s never won an argument, he’s always wanted to. so he’s not going to stop. 

so yeah, basically theyre strict, neglectful and abusive. There are extreme’s they go to, and because katsuki is just the type to disobey shit he doesnt agree with, those are often used.

It’s been said by Sif before, but i really like the idea that todoroki and bakugou both had bad childhoods but in opposite directions. Thats probably the best way to describe it.

Actually, Ive had a fic in my head for a long time that would partly focus on katsuki’s entire childhood and kinda explain my thoughts on it

But anyway, this is getting ridiculously long and i probably have more i could say plus i can definitely go into more detail. as you can see though, my thoughts are a fucking mess. hopefully this made some sense. again, let me know if u wanna know more! :)

#tw: abuse #tw: neglect #this is a very fanon idea btw #pls dont take anything too srsly #bakugu katsuki #ALSO THANK YOU ANON :)) #bakugou mitsuki #bakugu masaru #i coulda probably yeeted the 'katsuki gets kidnapped a lot' hc in there #honestly everybody should just check sifs stuff #her brain is too big #bakugou katsuki headcanons #bnha headcanons #im legitimately not sure if this even makes any sense #im sleepy so

[mmikmmik2]

If you were to sort the Infinity Train cast(s) into the Major Arcana a la the Persona games, which Arcana would you give everyone?

anon I had SOOOOO much fun thinking about this, thank you so much for sending me this. I sorted all the major characters, plus a few other entries, based on a mix of Arcana symbolism, Persona series character archetypes, and general vibes. I came up with answers I feel pretty good about for all but four of the Arcana. (Was really tempted to say Strength is every human character who doesn't board the train because they can handle their problems on their own lol.) This is going to be a long-winded post, so I thought I’d post just the list as an image (which hopefully won’t be too blurry!) rather than wrestle with Tumblr formatting trying to make a short list, and put a big text wall under the readmore talking more about my picks.

If this list does end up illegible, the same info is under the readmore as text! Plus some characters for Magician, Strength, Justice, and Death that I didn’t want to add to the “official” list because they’re more based on headcanon. (Although my reasoning for some of the “official” picks is pretty weak lol.)

One-One as 0. The Fool

Oh my gosh, what am I?

IT is great at fleshing out character backstories and families, so One-One at the beginning of S1 is one of the few characters who really feels like a blank slate. He's got a lot of his baggage back by the end of the season, and I think One and One-One are more similar than they seem at first glance, but S1 does seem to have been very formative for One-One and how he thinks about what he's supposed to be doing and how he relates to other people. So it does kind of feel like his fool's journey.

Alrick Timmens as I. The Magician

The magician begins the journey... by beefing it on a dirt bike, dying, and sending his wife flying off the deep end. Rip.

Alrick was an engineer like Amelia, so I could see him suiting some of the themes of the Magician, like conscious thought and manifesting ideas. His apparent playfulness and insecurity are similar to the Magician characters in Persona.

Kez as II. The High Priestess

“We can’t make this decision for you, Kez.” “You know what to do.”

I thought really hard about making Kez the Magician because just like every Magician since Persona 3, she's dumb, horny, and insecure dlkjasfdkl

(and also her showing up at the start of the story arc and being helpful but also super needy is very Magician)

But the idea of "intuition" really does suit Kez. Sometimes her intuition is as bad as her conscious reasoning, but I think that's a lot because she's so confused about what happened with Jeremy, and Morgan making Kez feel like she did a bad thing by helping him.

Tuba as III. The Empress

She made me feel like I was warm all the time.

Tuba's a mom. Sorry, this one's not that deep, haha.

Simon Laurent as IV. The Emperor

Highest number! I'm the leader now.

Simon has a lot of issues, but the one that felt the most prominent to me was his unhealthy relationship with power, authority, dominance, and rules. Another quote I considered using here was what he said in Grace's memory of meeting Amelia: "I never thought I'd get to see the Conductor with my own eyes. He's perfect! Everything finally makes sense again." In his emotional crisis, he thought everything could be fixed just by the existence of a huge, scary, powerful, male authority figure, even if they weren't doing anything helpful or informative.

Atticus as V. The Hierophant

I like to think that our stones are sturdy and handsome, like the Corgis that crafted them.

Atticus is a figure of traditional authority who deeply loves the history, society, and culture of his people. He often provides spiritual wisdom and encourages Tulip to get out of her own head and engage with the world around her. Also in Persona, Hiero is the Dad Arcana so it's very funny to me (a) to make the little dog be Hiero and (b) that the little dog really does have the strongest Wholesome Dad Energy of the whole cast.

Jesse Cosay as VI. The Lovers

Don't tell me what to do. I'm not going to be a part of anything like this, on or off the train.

This was my first and easiest pick lol, Jesse is sooooo Lovers. Like, the focus on choice and personal values and relationships? Yep, that's Jesse. It works on an "actual meaning of the Arcana" level and a "vibes with the Persona characters" level lol... popular, upbeat, and having such an identity crisis.

Lake as VII. The Chariot

I'm my own person, who is getting off this train!

I don't know if Chariot captures all the ways Lake grew over the course of S2, but I feel like they had the most externally focused conflict of all the IT characters, which suits Chariot. They've been fighting to stake out their personhood from start to finish, and they took action and used their willpower to achieve that goal. Also they have at least a little jock energy which is a prereq for Chariot tbh.

Frank as VIII. Strength

I dunno, I kinda imagine him as a simple man and easily underestimated, but with a lot of heart. The Cat may say they're keeping things casual but I don't think she'd take him with her on her private vacation unless he had some kind of inner toughness that would let him stand toe-to-toe with her.

Morgan as IX. The Hermit

I need to be alone right now. Kez... maybe... we can talk later.

I like that Morgan embodies toxic self-isolation and stonewalling and rejection, but that she seems to be moving towards the positive aspects of Hermit and taking some time to calm down and process and think. I like it when characters can embody the best and worst of their Arcana.

Tulip Olsen as X. The Wheel of Fortune

We have to adapt to the changes in our lives. It's the only way things can get better.

Tulip has a lot of themes and conflicts, but this one is a clear standout as the most important. I also like it for Tulip because, while she has to handle a lot of difficult and even traumatic situations, some of the change that challenges her isn't as unambiguously bad as e.g. the death of a loved one. It really is just change itself she's struggling with, and that's Fortune babey. Also, from the perspective of the train itself and lots of other characters, by reversing Amelia and One-One's positions again and changing how One-One administrates the train, Tulip is the one giving the wheel a spin. That's fun.

Lucy as XI. Justice

One of my friends once described the Justice characters in Persona as "the ones the player character is ultimately accountable towards", and I like to think of Lucy as kind of being that for Grace (...since Hazel has excused herself). Lucy is the Apex kid we see Grace interact with the most, the first Apex kid Grace admitted to herself that she had harmed (see Grace very briefly showing distress and then regret when Jesse points the harpoons at his face and she stops him), and the first person to confront Grace when she came home in The New Apex.

Min-Gi Park as XII. The Hanged Man

I don't know if we'll sell a single album, but we'll figure that out as we go.

Min-Gi sacrifices his "realistic", "sensible" goals for a more personally (spiritually, even?) enriching life that's beyond his control and outside of the expected norm. Like the Hanged Man, who dangles foolishly upside-down, but as a deliberate choice and in a state of serenity and enlightenment. I also think this arcana suits a reading of Min-Gi's character development as starting off going slower as a way to stall and live in denial, but then going slower with deliberation. Compare his arrogant insistence on refusing to act in The Astro Queue Car to his patience and care in The Castle Car and The Train to Nowhere.

Jeremy as XIII. Death

This isn't about the death of his family - I'm thinking of his reluctance to admit his number was going down. He cared about Morgan and Kez, and it's possible both that he may have really wanted to stay with them despite his exit and that that might even have been a healthy choice - they're real ass people with feelings and everything, not holodeck characters. But I also think Jeremy was using his life with them to avoid moving on out of that fog (because it was hard and it hurt and he didn't want to think about what that would mean for him and Morgan) and Morgan was enabling him.

Ryan Akagi as XIV. Temperance

Maybe the experience is the point. I wasn't just rushing you. I was rushing myself.

I think this one speaks for itself. Also, the other quote I considered putting here, from The Art Gallery Car: "You told me I can't appreciate the song without taking in the rest of the album. I need the whole package."

The Cat as XV. The Devil

I always do the right thing.

Honestly, this is one I really wasn't sure about. The Cat isn't a great pick for a lot of the meanings of Devil. She is definitely consumed by material comforts, and the short-term rewards of ignoring her issues at a long-term cost, though. This is more of a "vibes with Persona characters with this arcana" pick... Devil characters tend to start off being somewhat exploitative or even antagonistic towards the player character, and gradually showing a more conflicted and genuine side.

Amelia Hughes as XVI. The Tower

There's a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be.

Amelia's life is defined by catastrophe and upheaval - both those she's suffered and those she's inflicted on others.

Hazel as XVII. The Star

I'm going to keep loving you like you're still here.

When I think of "The Star" as a small but inextinguishable light in the darkness, Hazel seems like the obvious choice. Although we left her deeply wounded, I think she still has a flicker of her hope, faith, and purpose.

Grace Monroe as XVIII. The Moon

But it's unfair for me to tell you how to understand yourself. I mean, I don't even fully understand me.

Grace is probably the most complex and dynamic character on the show and hence one of the most difficult to place. I considered Empress, Strength, Devil, and Judgement for her... I think ultimately, lies and illusions are the most unifying theme of her character arc. Also, from a Persona angle, her pursuit of status out of a lack of true self-worth reminds me of Ai and Mishima.

Alan Dracula as XIX. The Sun

Brought together by the majesty of a superpowered deer!

I'm sorry dkjasfklads this is largely because I thought it was funny to have this completely inexpressive dead-eyed deer as Sun akfk but also... like... it kind of works okay!!! Think about the genuine joy and comfort and positivity he brings to Lake and Jesse (and me)!

The New Apex as XX. Judgement

"Then what are we gonna be?" "Guess we'll have to figure it out?"

This is kind of a Persona mythology gag again because of Judgement being a group social link near the end of the narratives of P3 and P4, when the protagonists have pierced through the lies and actually figured out who the villain of their game is and are ready to really start making progress.

0 as XI. The World

Ah, train does it again!

It's an ending and the completion of a journey, but also the beginning of a new one. And the world is literally what the passengers receive at the end of their train journey. Welcome home.

#infinity train #infinity train spoilers #protagonists of IT #Anonymous

[grantyort]

Prelude IV: Relight

Post-Surgery: DAY ONE

[Sean sits in the hospital bed, legs crossed, staring into space when he hears a familiar voice.]

Joey: Sean, Sean Diaz? Well damn. I never thought I’d see your sorry ass again!

Sean: Geez Joey. Is that how you talk to all your patients?

Joey: Just the ones I like.

[Sean chuckles]

Joey: C’mere big man.

[Joey gives Sean a big bear hug]

Sean: How’ve you been Joey?

Joey: Can’t complain. These days, they got me up in hospice care. You’re probably the first person I’ve seen today that didn’t need their bedpans changed.

Sean: Sounds terrible.

Joey: It’s all not all bad. Lot of these folks have stories that you wouldn’t believe. One of my patients has lived through five wars and two depressions, tells me I’m a credit to my race.

Sean: Yeesh.

Joey: (shrugs) She means well. It’s almost flattering compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard. Been on this job almost ten years now, some people still treat me like I have no idea what I’m doing.  

Sean: That sucks Joey.

Joey: Yeah... Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. From what I heard, this procedure cost a small fortune. You must have friends in high places.

Sean: Yeah, something like that.

Joey: And no guard at the door this time. I assume everything got cleared up with the police? Not planning to make a break for it again are ya?

Sean: Nah, no daring escapes this time.

Joey: Good. I don’t think I’d survive another blow to the head.

Sean: Listen Joey I’m really sorry-

Joey: (laughs) Relax Sean! I’m just messing with you! It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. Say, did you ever end up finding that brother of yours?

Sean: Yeah. He’s actually coming to visit me tomorrow.

Joey: Can’t wait to meet him!

Sean: Famous last words.

Joey: So… what you been up to these days?

Sean: Mostly just cramming for the SATs, drawing, listening to music. Normal teenage shit.

Joey: That’s good to hear. I was worried about you man. You went AWOL after the hospital. I got police and Feds breathing down my neck for weeks. Then a month later, I hear about a couple of kids trying the border to Mexico on the news.

Sean: Sorry I never reached out. I just didn’t want to get you more involved than you already were-

Joey: You made the right call. They questioned me for hours. My apartment was filled with G-men, my girlfriend was freaked. I honestly thought she was going to dump my ass.

Sean: I’m really sorry Joey.

Joey: Don’t sweat it Sean, it was for a good cause. Besides, everything worked out in the end.

Sean: Yeah I noticed, how long have you been-

Joey: Almost a year now. We’re expecting our first baby in the summer.

Sean: Congratulations dude!

Joey: Thanks, but honestly, I’m kinda nervous, don’t think I’m ready to be a father.

Sean: You’ll be a great dad, Joey. You’re awesome at taking care of people.

Joey: You’re damn right. Speaking of which, we should probably take a look at that eye of yours.

[Joey takes off the bandage and gives Sean’s eye a thorough examination]

Joey: Well it looks a helluva lot better than the last time I saw it.

Sean: That’s good to hear. I wasn’t sure it would work.

Joey: Well it’s too early to say if your vision will fully recover. But at the very least you won’t have to walk around with a patch anymore.

Sean: Good. It’s hard enough finding a prom date let alone one that’s willing to go with a pirate.

Joey: Still with the pirate jokes huh? Hopefully, you’ll have to write some new material after this.

[Joey applies a new bandage on Sean’s eye]

Joey: And you’re all set. Now as much as I love our talks, I gotta make my rounds. Buzz me if you need me.

Sean: Later Joey.

Joey: See ya tomorrow Sean.

 [Joey leaves the room. Sean turns to look out the window. The door shoots open, and a small figure comes bursting in.]

Daniel: Sean! 

[He jumps onto the bed and into Sean’s arms]

Stephen: (out-of-breath) Sorry, I tried to stop him, but he outran me.

Sean: You okay Stephen?

Stephen: I am… just need a minute to catch my breath. The old ticker ain’t what it used to be- I need to sit down.

Daniel: Take it easy grandpa.

Sean: What are you doing here, enano? I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.

Daniel: I made grandpa book an earlier flight. I just couldn’t wait! 

[he hugs Sean again]

Sean: Haha easy. I just had surgery, remember?

Daniel: Oh right, s-sorry.

[There’s a brief flash, followed by a shutter click]

Sean: What’re you doing, gramps?

Stephen: Oh nothing, just commemorating the moment. Thanks to your brother, I finally got the hang of this newfangled smartphone camera.

Daniel (whispering): He had it stuck on selfie mode for days. Anyway, did it go? Is your eye…

Sean: I mean… it’s not 100% yet but I can sort of see again.

Daniel: T-that’s awesome! Can I see it?

Sean: Dude last time I showed you my eye, you almost cried. Besides, the doctors say I still need to keep the bandage on for a bit, while it heals.

Daniel: Right. That makes sense. Oooh this room looks cool. Do they have Netflix or a Playbox?

Sean: It’s a hospital, dude.

Daniel: Lame.

Sean: So catch me up. Did I miss anything interesting at home?

Daniel: Nah… Chris is still on that fishing trip with his dad so there’s no one to hang out with. Oh I almost forgot. He made you this card. Isn’t it awesome?

[Daniel gives Sean a hand-drawn “get-well-soon” card from Chris]

Sean: Yeah. It’s pretty cool. We can have Claire put it up when we get back.

Daniel: Grandma’s still in that feud with the lady from church.

Sean: Which one was that again?

Daniel: Agnes, the one who gives off major Lisbeth-vibes. She says grandma stole her casserole recipe for the church bake-sale. Lying bitch.

Stephen: Language!

Sean: Maybe one of us should try to smooth things over before it gets nasty.

Stephen: Hell hath no fury… lemme tell ya. I’ve been married to your grandmother long enough to know once that woman sets her mind on something… there’s no stopping her. Best to just let things run their course.

Sean: Claire can get a little… passionate sometimes. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper for real.

Stephen: There’s a fire in that woman. It’s part of the reason I married her. Just pray she never turns it on you. I hope I’ll never live to see that day, god willing.

[Sean notices Daniel circling the hospital bed, pressing his hand on various parts of the mattress]

Sean: (laughs) What are you doing, enano?

Daniel: Just trying to figure which side of the bed I want to sleep on tonight.

Sean: Dude. There’s no way this bed’s gonna fit both of us.

Daniel: The one in Mom’s trailer was way smaller!

Sean: Yeah well… you were a lot smaller back then.

Stephen: They have a nice area for visitors down the hall.

Daniel: But I want to stay with Sean!

Sean: I guess I could ask Joey to bring in a couch or something.

Daniel: Who’s Joey?

Sean: The nurse who took care of me after the accident. I told you about him, remember?

Daniel: Oh right! I can’t wait to meet him!

 DAY TWO

Joey: How are we doing today? Any headaches, dizziness, socket pain?

Sean: Nah it’s all good. Still getting used to having depth perception again. It’s kinda weird.

Joey: You’ll get used to it. Anything else to report?

Sean: Nothing major. I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.

Joey: We have a psychiatrist on-site if you need a professional to talk to.

Sean: Nah it’s alright, probably just the drugs messing with my brain.

Joey: Well your vitals look good. We’ll go over some basic tests. You know the drill.

(Sean covers his right eye and tries to read the chart. Joey then shines a light and asks him to follow along. Finally, he asks Sean to put the cap back on the pen.)

Joey: You passed with flying colors. The doctor will be in for a final exam tomorrow and then we can discharge you.

Sean: (sarcastically) Too bad, I was ready to become the first Mexican pirate to attend college. So much for being a trailblazer.

Joey: Good to see you haven’t lost that snarky-ass sense of humor.

Joey: Anyway, I’m taking my lunch now. Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? Wait… don’t tell me. Chocolate pecan?

Sean: You know it.

Joey: I met your brother in the hall. Cute kid.

Sean: (deadpans) Give it a few days. Then see if you get a “second opinion.”

Joey: He does seem a little… “energetic”. But that’s normal for kids his age.

Sean: Yeah one minute I’m his favorite person in the world. The next, he’s off doing God knows what, and doesn’t want me “bossing him around”. You know how it is.

Joey: Can’t say I do. Grew up in a house with three older sisters. Guess I must have been the annoying one. Daniel’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Must be tough sometimes.

Sean: Oh you have no idea.

[Joey claps Sean’s shoulder, he feels a jolt shooting up his spine, everything goes white] 

(Sean sees a door marked: “Miranda A. Connolly, Hospital Director”)

Connolly: You’ve been a valuable asset to this hospital. Stellar feedback from all of your patients and attendings.

Joey: I sense a “but” coming.

Connolly: But, given the dubious circumstances surrounding your transfer and your past involvement with the law. The Board thinks it might be better for one of the other nurses to take this spot.

Joey: Please. I’ve got a kid on the way. We just bought our first house. Can you at least consider bumping up my pay? I haven’t gotten a real raise since I started here. There are kids coming out of nursing school that make what I make!

Connolly: The hospital has limited resources as it is, and the State just slashed our funding again. I just can’t justify raising anyone’s salary right now.

Joey: I break my back for this hospital, work extra shifts, get to know the patients. You promised me at the annual review that I’d-

Connolly: That was before this new information came to light. I’m sorry Joseph, maybe next year.

[Sean snaps out of his trance]

Joey: Sean? Sean are you okay?

Sean: Sorry, Guess I spaced out. Must just be the medication.

Joey: I can have the doctor come by and adjust your dosage.

Sean: I’m fine Joey. I swear. Weren’t you about to take lunch?

Joey: Oh right. We’ll pick this up later.

[Joey leaves the room, looking slightly puzzled.]

Sean: (thinking) W-what what was that? A dream? But It felt so… real.

[Sean takes out his phone and enters the name of the hospital, He finds their website. Under the ‘About’ section he scrolls to the Executive team bio. There is a photo of the woman he saw in the vision followed by a small blurb]

“Miranda A. Connolly is the President and Chief Director of Mt. Cedar General Hospital. She was appointed back in 2016 as Associate Director and has since made ground-breaking changes to the field of medicine and medical care. Under her leadership, this hospital was able to expand greatly, hiring new diverse staff members and vastly improving quality of care for all its patients.”

Sean: (thinking) Holy shit… it’s real. Does that mean I…?

Daniel: Hey Sean! What you looking at?

Sean: Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Daniel: I wasn’t sneaking. I was practicing my stealth!

Sean: Yeah sure.

Daniel: Are you looking at the new Playbox Pro? My birthday is right around the corner you know.

Sean: Birthday? It’s still January!

Daniel: Never too early to start preparing.

Sean: (rolling eyes) Yeah cuz everything’s always about you.

Daniel: Oooh I bet you were watching those dirty videos again. I’m tellin’ grandpa!

Sean: Hey hands off my phone you little-

[Daniel tries to grab Sean’s phone. Sean wrests his hand away. There is another a jolt]

[Daniel stands in front of the vending machine, staring at the jumbo chock-o-crisp. He looks around to check that the coast is clear. Then he waves his hand causing the chock-o-crisp to fall off the rack and into the dispenser slot.He gleefully retrieves it and devours the candy bar in a matter of seconds]

Sean: Dude, I told you not to eat any more chock-o-crisps! Do you want another trip to the dentist?

Daniel: What are you talking about? I haven’t had one in weeks!

Sean: Yeah sure. So you didn’t pig out at the vending machine before coming in here?

Daniel: How did you-

Sean: Maybe I have magic powers or maybe… you’ve still got crumbs on your collar.

Daniel: Aw, damn it. Promise you won’t tell grandpa.

Sean: Oh so you can tell on me but I can’t tell on you?

Daniel: (smugly) Exactly.

Sean: C’mere ya little shit!

Daniel: Sean stop! Ha that tickles. Quit it!

(After their little bout, Daniel curls up next to Sean, resting his head on Sean’s lap. Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair absentmindedly)

Sean: You ever wish you were… you know “normal” again?

Daniel: You mean not have my powers? Nah. They’re a part of me now. Besides, being normal is overrated.

Sean: (chuckles) I guess it is. But do you ever get that feeling like you thought you wanted something for a really long time but when you finally get it, it nothing like you thought it’d be?

Daniel: Uhhh… you mean like how I begged grandma to get me a PlayBox Live Subscription, but then the exclusives turned out to be shit? And now I have to act like I love it?

Sean: Yeah something like that.

Daniel: (yawns) Meh I’ll just ask for a gaming PC for my birthday.

Sean: Dude you’re like the greediest ten year-old I know.

Daniel: How many ten year-olds do you know?

Sean: Uh… just you and Chris.

Daniel: So, you want me to be more like Chris?

Sean: Wouldn’t hurt.

Daniel: (imitating Chris) “Only the purest of hearts may wield the power of Captain Spirit!”

Sean: Guess that rules you out.

Daniel: (playfully) Shut up.

DAY THREE

Doctor: Okay Mr.Diaz. I want you to follow the light. Look to your right, up and to the right. Good, good, excellent pupil response.  Now look at the chart, cover your right eye and read this line.

Sean: Uh… A, O, E, P… T? Sorry I can’t really make out the last one.

Doctor: That’s okay, it takes time.

Doctor: Now this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I recommend that you wear a patch over your right eye. It’ll be temporary of course, just until you learn to see with your left eye again.

Sean: (laughs dryly) And here I thought my seafaring days were behind me.

Doctor: You know… pirate actually wore patches so their eyes could easily adjust to the darkness and see below deck- Sorry my son’s going through a pirate phase.

Sean: I know the feeling. My little brother’s been through every phase imaginable.

Doctor: Kids, you gotta treasure every moment. Because before you know it, they’ll be all grown up, ready to go off on their own. Look at me, rambling on. Anyway, I signed your discharged papers. They’ll schedule you for some outpatient care in the coming months.You’re almost ready to go. 

Sean: Sounds good.

Doctor: And you’re sure you don’t want to get do something about that nasty scar? A good-looking kid like you, it would be a shame to-

Sean: That’s okay, I think I’ll keep it… as a reminder.

Doctor: Alright but if you ever change your mind, I could refer you to a great plastic surgeon.

Sean: Thanks Doc, for everything.

Doctor: The pleasure’s all mine, Mr.Diaz. The groundwork we laid here could help hundreds of other patients in the future. We are making history. Your nurse should be along in a moment to help you get discharged.

[Sean sits in quiet contemplation. Reflecting on his dreams and new “vision”]

Sean (thinking): Be careful what you wish for... 

Joey: Looks like everything’s good to go. Remember to use your eye-drops-

Sean: Twice a day. Yeah Joey, I know.

Joey: Guess it’s goodbye again. Don’t be a stranger this time okay?

Sean: I won’t.

Joey: Here’s my number. Call me if ever need professional advice or just want to shoot the shit.

Sean: Thanks Joey. Let me know how everything goes with the baby.

Joey: Oh don’t you worry about that. Soon I’ll be blowing up your phone with pictures.

Sean: Haha can’t wait.

Joey: Now hospital policy says I gotta wheel your ass outta here. For liability reasons.

Sean: At least it’ll be a smoother exit than last time.

Joey: (laughs) Get in the chair smart-ass.

Beaver Creek, One Week Later

Sean: Okay, you ready?

Daniel: (takes deep breath) Alright. Show it to me.

Sean: So… how does it look?

Daniel: Looks… normal.

Sean: You almost sound disappointed. Were you expecting a bionic eye or something?

Daniel: No. I just… it looks good. I like the scar; makes you look extra tough.

Sean: You think so?

Daniel: Yeah… totally badass!

Sean: Thanks, enano.

Daniel: You need a new codename, like Scarred Wolf or Deadshot Diaz!

Sean: Let’s leave the nicknames up to Chris.

Daniel: Hey! I make up awesome names too!

Sean: Whatever you say,“Superwolf”

#life is strange 2 #life is strange #sean diaz #daniel diaz #captain spirit #chris eriksen #stephen reynolds #lis2 #captain spirit ww #joey peterson

[calm-and-wine]

(I’ll give you) the best years

part IV (masterlist, taglist)

Hello and happy monday! I hope everyone is having a lovely day, as you all deserve. I’d like to take this moment to say one more thank you to everyone who voted for my little story for the awards. We got runner up for best sequel (like whaaaaat), that is crazy and I love every single one of you. Here is part IV, hopefully it’ll bring you a little escape. (it’s 9.5k which I think is the longest thing I’ve ever written, but apparently I couldn’t help myself with this one)

PART IV

March 2025

Lucy was familiar with Niall in his recording mode. When he was in the studio day and night, having one idea after the other. But Niall working on music for One Direction was a different story. She has never seen him so excited, he was bouncing off the walls, gushing about studio sessions and laughs he shared with the boys, constantly playing her bits and snippets of what they had been working on. But working as a team with three other guys made it much harder to make the couple’s schedules line up. However, they still made it work, as much as possible. Niall made sure to keep his schedule free for all the Grand Slams and he even managed to be with her for some other tournaments on her last tour as well.

She was more than impressed that the band managed to keep their reunion a secret, mostly working in Louis’ little home studio. Even though they definitely weren’t as watched by the public as a few years before, knowing how big of a deal the band was, Lucy was pretty sure that as soon as people would get a whiff of them possibly coming back, they would go crazy for those guys once again. It was just the magic of them, something no one could explain, least of all the men involved.

Her and Niall managed to meet up in Los Angeles for a little over a week. Harry was there doing promo for his upcoming movie, which he filmed early last year, so he could still work on some songs with Niall, while Lucy was supposed to do two magazine photoshoots and interviews, as well as a talk show appearance, before going to play in Indian Wells. She had done a few things like that before, been a guest on a few tv shows back in England after winning her first Grand Slam, then in America after the US Open triumph, there were some magazine things as well. But since January, after she announced this would be her last season as a professional player, quite a few offers came in. Apparently she was the new sports star in demand. She wasn’t the biggest fan of those kinds of things, they always made her nervous, the only place she liked being the center of attention was on court. But her manager and the rest of her team convinced her to do a few of those, assuring her that publicity like that would be good for whatever she wants to do in the future.

When Lucy finally crossed the threshold of Niall’s LA house (which he insisted was theirs, since they were married and all), all she wanted to do was slide her back down the door and curl into a ball on the floor. She was exhausted. The photoshoot ran longer than she expected, and after that she was interviewed whilst having dinner. The reporter was a middle aged man, not necessarily rude, but a lot of his questions were more like assumptions that rubbed her the wrong way.

She just took off her shoes, when her husband appeared in the hallway, looking all soft in athletic shorts and a long-sleeve shirt, his hair growing longer than usual lately, which Lucy kinda loved. He wasted no time in stepping closer to her and enveloping her in his famous hug, even though she often thought he reserved special tight ones just for her.

“Long day?” he asked, still holding her, her arms wrapped around his waist just as tightly.

She nodded, before admitting, “I actually kinda hated it.” Her words muffled, as she nuzzled her face into Niall’s neck.

He hummed, rubbing her back in order to relax her. “Are you hungry?” He asked, but she shook her head, still making no move to let him go. “How about a bath?”

At last, Lucy pulled away slightly to look at him, her eyes big and appreciative. “Yes, please.”

He planted a sweet kiss on her forehead, squeezed her one last time before letting her go, but not completely, intertwining their fingers and leading her upstairs.

He didn’t ask questions, sensing her mood, mostly her tiredness, and simply falling into step with her actions. She went to the sink to remove her makeup, hating not being able to do that right after the last photo was taken, finding the professional make up to be way too much for her. Niall started filling up the tub, adding her favourite salt and scented oil. He truly knew the way to her heart.

“Do you want some tea? Wine?” he asked, turning towards her, their eyes meeting in the mirror, the bathroom filled with the sound of the running water.

“That apple and cinnamon tea?”

Niall nodded at her request. “Coming right up.”

He made a move to leave, but she grabbed his forearm, keeping him in place.

“Stay for a minute, please? It’ll get cold before I’m done with this mess,” she said motioning to her face and hair, which was pinned up, mentally cringing at just the thought of the amount of hairspray that went into it.

To be honest, the main reason behind her plea was just the need for his company, which she thought he must have sensed, because he linked his arms around her waist from behind and planted a kiss on her neck, before stepping back and perching on the edge of the tub.

“Was today awful, then?” he asked, giving her his full attention and concern.

“Well..” Lucy hesitated for a second. “No, not really awful, just…” she sighed, trying to explain it the best she could without complaining too much or sounding ungrateful at the opportunities she had. “The photoshoot was fine, I don’t love those stuff, but the clothes were amazing and everyone was super nice, just quite tiring though. But the interview…” She trailed off, rubbing particularly hard at her eye to remove the fake lashes.

“What happened?” Niall asked, biting his lip nervously. Lucy got her bad days, everyone did sometimes, but she was usually cool and collected, burying herself under a blanket and putting on a feel-good movie or a tv show, preferably cuddling into Niall’s body as well. She didn’t like getting her frustration out, she did that only while working out or playing.

“I’m just so irritated, baby,” she let out an exasperated sigh, giving up on washing her face for a minute and turning towards Niall. “I knew there has always been a lot of unfairness in treatment of men and women in sports, you know, and I’m not even talking about money, just all those headlines, with us it’s always the most unflattering picture on the front page, we’re always criticised about our looks and outfits first, don’t even get me started on the Serena’s catsuit debacle, banning that was just so wrong. Men don’t get that. When a tournament starts people wonder how they’ll perform, not what they’ll wear.” She shook her head, trying to not raise her voice, even though she felt like annoyance and anger were seeping out of her body. “Do you know what’s the question I’ve been asked the most since January?” Lucy asked, but didn’t really wait for Niall’s response, even though he gave her a small shrug. “Whether I’m pregnant. Because apparently that is the only plausible explanation for retiring. Like… How would that even work?” she asked, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “I’m playing my last tournament in September, do they expect me to play heavily pregnant then? Or with a baby on my hand and a racket in the other? What the fuck even is this bullshit?” She was talking fast, all her questions rhetorical, although Niall wouldn’t even dare to interrupt her when she was on a roll like that. “Men don’t have to endure any of it, everyone just automatically assumes it’s a health thing or whatever. With us it’s just constant speculation about our love and family life. And just… Fuck that, I’m honestly so done with this.” She turned towards the sink once more, going back to washing her face, like she was truly done with the topic. She didn’t even expect any reassuring words or anything from Niall, just needed to let her feelings out and vent to someone.

Niall was quiet for a moment, all he could do while she was speaking was look at her with wide eyes and a pull in his heart. She was agitated, angry and annoyed, but there was also so much passion in her words. So much care, not even for her, but for the number of women that had to endure it all as well. He always knew she was superhuman, but in that moment he was even more aware of that. He truly felt for her, just as much as he was in awe of her brain, her compassion and her strength.

He kept his head down for a second, thinking about her words, contemplating how he could possibly help, whether it was even possible. It was usually Niall who got riled up and went on a rant, not Lucy, so it was a new situation, one he wasn’t completely sure how to navigate, but he couldn't say he liked it. Seeing her this annoyed and agitated made his heart give a painful squeeze inside his chest, having this instant need to protect her and make it all better. It wasn’t a very familiar feeling for him, knowing how strong and independent his wife was, sometimes pointing those kinds of injustice, like when she saw a picture of a fellow female player to go with the article, but it was purposely chosen to be a photo with her skirt flying up, or when she saw comments online how “disgusting” it is when women scream on court after a good (or bad) point, but when the men do that they’re just “passionate”. She shared her thoughts about that with Niall, but never let it truly bother her. But this time, it seemed like she had had enough. And he couldn’t really blame her.

He stood up and pulled her into a hug once again, knowing he was in no position to fix the world, but hoping to at least make his wife feel better.

“I’m sorry. Men are dicks,” he said, which made Lucy laugh. It was a real laugh, the sound coming straight from her belly and making Niall smile instantly, just getting that reaction out of her, which was exactly what he was hoping to achieve.

“They really are sometimes,” she agreed, her face all lit up now, finally free of any make up, her eyes regaining their usual spark.

This was his wife, Niall thought, the most beautiful woman in the world, just like that, with her face slightly red after the wash, her hair still in a perfect up-do and her eyes telling him all of her secrets. In moments like that, he could not believe just how lucky he was.

Lucy pulled him in for a kiss, before patting his shoulder and letting him know he can go get her that tea now. There was no need for more words, she knew she had his support, he wasn’t merely a listener, if she asked him, he would do whatever she wanted. But it wasn’t that kind of situation. The patriarchy could not be changed by him, nor her, so she just tried to let it go, already feeling lighter by sharing those burdening thoughts. Tea and a bath in the company of her husband ended up being her safe haven, and that was all she needed.

July 2025

As Lucy fell down, her back hitting the grass, she could not believe what had just happened. There was no way it was real. Apparently, she just won Wimbledon. Fucking Wimbledon. The most prestigious tennis tournament that ever existed. The one in her home country. The one she always wanted to win, but didn’t think she’d actually manage to. It was a dream she let go already. And now it was a reality.

The whole stadium was so loud, she could barely hear her own thoughts. She sat up and saw her opponent coming towards her with a smile. Naomi was the closest person she had to a friend out of other players and she was very appreciative that they could compete at such monumental occasions, there was something special about sharing those moments with someone you not only had respect for, but also genuinely liked.

“That was fantastic, congratulations,” Naomi said earnestly as they hugged.

“It was a great game, you gave me hell,” Lucy said, at which they both laughed.

She spent a minute taking a bow and thanking the crowd, before she went closer to the stand to get to her people. She started up the stairs until she got to her player’s box, where there was a small door on the side, it was installed a few years back, after multiple players went jumping up and climbing the box, now it was much easier. It was only a moment before she was engulfed in a hug by her dad who sat the closest, her mum putting her arms around them a second later, turning it into a three way hug. Lucy could not keep the tears at bay any longer, she could hear her parents saying kind and loving words into her ears, but she was so emotional, still in a state of absolut shock, she wasn’t able to really process them. They let her go after a minute and all she had to do was take one step to be wrapped in her husband’s arms and crying on his shoulder.

“You mad, mad woman,” Niall whispered with a laugh, followed by a few kisses on her cheek, right by her ear, rubbing a calming hand over her back.

She stayed in his arms for probably way too long, seeing as there were thousands of people watching them and even more in front of the telly, the whole thing being broadcasted all around the world. But she didn’t care, she needed Niall, his presence always calming, his amazing hug and the smell of his cologne mixed with a bit of sweat from sitting in the sun feeling like home.

When she pulled away slightly, his eyes were shining. It always amazed her with how much love and pride he could look at her. Even though she usually looked at him the exact same way. She planted a simple peck on his lips before squeezing his arms with a smile and moving along to hug her coach, Mia and Natalia, Niall’s mum who, for three years now, has been coming to London for the two weeks during which the tournament took place to watch her play, then Lucy high fived the rest of the people in her box, including her manager, Niall’s cousin and best mate and their friends, Laura and Iain.

She could stay up there forever, sharing smiles and hugs with the people she cared about, but she had a trophy to pick up, after all. She actually probably took a bit too long already, because as soon as she was back down on court, she was hurried to the side to give a little speech before they presented her with a trophy. But they could wait for her, after all, she was the champion.

~~

“Shit, Niall!” Lucy called out, which prompted her husband to come out of the bathroom running a towel through his wet hair, while the other was wrapped around his waist. “I just won Wimbledon. Do you know what that means?”

He looked at her with an arched brow, like she was mental. “Um.. A lot, I guess? I don’t know what you’re on about, love,” he chuckled.

She threw her head in laughter, looking absolutely beautiful lying on the bed, in a shirt of his, her skin slightly tanned against the white sheets, her body tired, but her eyes bright with glee.

“Well, yeah, but first of all, that means I’m going to be a member of The All England Club, which is super cool and basically I’ll be able to go there to train or just play or hang out and I’ll probably be invited to matches at Wimby in the future.” Her eyes, despite tiredness, were shining.

“You’ll get a plus one ticket, right?” he asked, draping his hair towel over the chair and stepping closer to where she was. “Does being your husband make me like an honorary member or something?”

“Mmm I don’t think so, babe. You might have to win the tournament for that,” she giggled, when he grabbed her calf and made a move to tickle her, but didn’t actually go through with it. “But I will probably get two tickets, so you’re lucky I like you. But the second super fun part is that there’s the Champions’ Dinner going on tomorrow night. And seeing as I’m a fricking champion,” she said with a huge grin, the words still sounding unreal, “we’re invited.” Her face momentarily changed into one of horror. “Oh fuck, Niall!” she exclaimed, completely horrified. “I don’t have anything to wear! What the hell, how am I supposed to get a dress in less than a day?”

Niall’s shoulders shook with silent laughter at how terrified she looked. “Well, you’ve got quite a few dresses you could wear.”

“Niall!” Lucy reached for the pillow to hit him with, but he was too quick, grabbing it before it made contact and throwing it on the other side of the bed, still laughing. “It’s The Champions’ Dinner! It’s a big thing. I can’t just wear any old dress,” she explained, her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he leaned towards her to peck her lips, before going back into the bathroom. He came back a minute later wearing a fresh pair of pants and shutting off the light after himself. “Oh wait,” he stopped in his tracks, looking at her with furrowed brows, “what about the dress you got for The Brits?”

“Ohhh that’s a good idea!” she exclaimed, grinning automatically. She did more smiling today than any other time, her cheeks actually started to ache earlier. “Do you think it’ll be alright?”

“It’s a gown, right?” he asked, shrugging. “And from what I remember it’s really pretty.”

“Yeah, you’re a bit of a genius,” she admitted, looking at him appreciatively. “I knew there was a reason why I married you.”

“Yeah, cheers,” he sniggered with fake offence, sitting at his side of the bed, with his back to his wife and reaching for his phone.

Lucy watched him fumble with it for a bit, probably responding to some messages, before she got up to her knees and crawled over to him, putting her arms around his torso from behind.

“You okay? Seemed pretty quiet during dinner,” she said quietly, putting her chin on his shoulder and looking at the side of his face. After she was done with a press conference and one or two more interviews after her win, they went for a celebratory dinner with their families, friends and her team, where surprisingly, Niall wasn’t his usual charming self, talking only when asked, even spacing out a few times.

Niall furrowed his brows slightly and reached to put his phone back on the bedside table. He hummed before speaking. “Yeah, just tired. I also have a bit of a headache, from sitting in the sun, I think.” He looked at her and when she didn’t seem entirely convinced, he planted a sweet kiss on her lips. “Aren’t you tired? Or are you still buzzing with adrenaline? Will you be able to sleep?”

She rested her forehead on his shoulder, not wanting to put distance between them yet. “Still buzzing a bit, but I think once my head hits the pillow, I’ll be out, cause I am genuinely wiped out. I think I’m getting old.”

Niall snickered at that, maneuvering their bodies so they faced each other. “You are most definitely not getting old,” he said, putting both his hands on her cheeks. “Don’t forget that I’m older than you and I am definitely not anywhere near being old.” He gave her another kiss and for a second Lucy felt like he wanted to convey something with it, something he didn’t want to say out loud, but she had no idea what and she didn’t want to push him with questions. So she just kissed him back, trying to somehow transfer all the love she had for him.

~~

The last two days, since Lucy’s Saturday triumph, were crazy. The Champions’ Dinner was the best party she had ever been to, even though she was stressing about the tradition that was Champions’ dance, during which the male and female winners were supposed to dance together, but seeing that the men’s champion was Alexander, her worry almost disappeared, as he was someone she’s known for years, him being a year younger than her, they’ve seen each other around since playing as juniors, he had always been a laugh. It was actually incredibly nice to share that night with him, as they were both first time Wimbledon champions. Other than that, she had quite a few interviews and tv appearances as the champion.

So in the evening, they were sitting on the sofa, eating takeaway, because when they finally got home, none of them felt like cooking.

“Niall, since when do we not talk to each other?” Lucy said putting her plate down, done with the silence, but it was about more than just this moment.

“Hm?” he finally snapped his head up and looked at his wife. He barely said a word since they left the filming studio. He wanted to tag along today, it was his idea, but truth be told, he had been kind of distant since they came back after Wimbledon final. It was like he had been swallowed by his thoughts, engrossed in his own mind.

“You’ve been by my side for the past two days, but it’s like you’re lost inside your own head. And you keep giving me this weird look, last night at dinner and all through today…” Lucy noticed those things right away, having learned his body language and all the different cues after years together. But now, she was tired of waiting for him to speak up and say what is going on in his mind. “And I don’t know what it is, but you’ve never looked at me like that before. And I don’t like it,” she admitted, although she never thought she wouldn’t like the way Niall looked at her, but it was very far from his usual soft gaze. “It’s like you’re thinking something over or having regrets or.. I don’t know,” she shrugged, feeling a bit hopeless. “I don’t want to push you, but I’m worried and I’d just want to know what’s going on. We’re supposed to be open and honest, always. So please, just tell me what’s worrying you, baby.”

Niall hung down his head once again. He knew she’d pick up on his behaviour, the same way he could always tell when her head was spinning with thoughts. And it wasn’t like he had been trying to keep something from her, he just didn’t know what to say, how to breach the topic. However, he wasn’t aware she had been worrying about him like that.

“It’s just…” he started, but paused right away, licking his lips, putting his plate down on the table, eyes focused on his lap, where he started fidgeting with his fingers. “I think that maybe you should reconsider your retirement,” he said after a beat, lifting his head but still not exactly looking at her.

“What? Why?” she said truly confused and shocked. He had her full attention even before, but now she was looking at him with furrowed brows, trying to inspect everything about him, looking for any clues he might give.

“Well, do you not want to play longer?” he asked, eventually meeting her gaze, rubbing his palms over his jeans, because they began to feel clammy. “You know you could, the past two weeks just proved that.”

She was silent for a minute, trying to collect her thoughts, think of a reason why he would want her to keep competing. His eyes were darting around, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to watch her or avoid her gaze.

“Are you having doubts about us?” she asked eventually, starting to mindlessly twist the wedding band on her finger.

“What?” Now he was the one completely thrown off, his brows creasing and nose scrunching, which was an expression he had when he was concentrating, and one of her favourites, but not in this situation. At least the question made him truly look her in the eyes, focus on her.

“Now that we could actually settle down, spend most of the time together and not be constantly scattered around the world, does it scare you?” Lucy elaborated, trying to explain her worry.

“No, fuck, Lulu, why would you think that?” he exclaimed right away, almost offended by her question.

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Niall?” She slightly raised her voice as well. “I thought we were both excited for this, to build more of a home together, to not have to miss each other all the time and say goodbye every other week or month. And now you’re basically saying that maybe I should keep going around the globe playing tennis, being away from you, so what should I think?” She started gesticulating, throwing her hands around a bit, shrugging with that last question.

“It’s not that at all, Jesus,” he huffed, his hand going up to rake through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe you should know I love you, huh? I mean, we are married and all that...” His voice wasn’t particularly loud, none of them were screaming, but they were both clearly agitated, their voices rough, almost piercing.

“Yeah, but that’s all we know. Me travelling 10 months a year, you going back and forth between LA and London, or New York, or touring the globe,” she pointed out. “Trying to have little moments here and there, but not being together all year round. Probably not even half of it. And maybe that’s not what you want, maybe you didn’t think about it, when you asked me to marry you. I don’t know,” her voice was becoming more and more thick with emotions, but now that she had all those horrible, scary thoughts in her head, she couldn’t stop it.

“Stop!” he blurted, not even loudly, but sternly, which made Lucy snap out of her spinning state. “Okay? Just stop saying those things,” his face was contorted, almost like he couldn’t listen to the things she had been saying, like he was in pain because of her words. “What about the months when your knee was fucked up? Didn’t we spend every day together then? Was I running away scared? Did I not love having you home? How can you even… Fuck!” Both his hands were in his hair, tagging frustratingly. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, before speaking again, this time much more calmly. “Let’s not even go there, okay? Cause it’s not about that, at all. I’d love nothing more than to have you with me as much as possible. You’ve got to know that, Lulu.” That last sentence was let out as a plea, which made Lucy’s heart squeeze painfully inside her chest.

She did know that, of course she did. And yet, she didn’t know how else she could explain his earlier statement.

“Well, then what is it? Why do you think I should reconsider?” she asked, not wanting to guess again, her first theory leading them into a fight.

“Because you just won fucking Wimbledon, Lulu!” Niall shouted, his hands flying up. He wasn’t necessarily angry, but his voice was a humourless laugh.

“Yeah, I know, I was there,” she said with a smile, not really bothered by his outburst. “It was pretty great, but I still don’t see your point, baby.”

He just screamed at her, but right now she was nothing but calm and level headed. He calmed her worst fears that came with his question, so she wasn’t stressed anymore. But he was exasperated, so it was her turn to get rid of any worries he clearly had.

He took another deep breath, Lucy scooted closer to him on the couch, reaching for his hand and tracing figures on his palm in support and reassurance.

“It was your biggest dream, you always said so. And now you’ve done it and you’re just gonna quit playing two months later?” Niall finally asked in disbelief, looking closely at her, as if searching for something, any trace of hesitation. “Don’t you think of other things you could still achieve? What about French Open? Don’t you want to have all the Slams?”

“Niall,” she said so tenderly, all his previous anger just evaporated hearing her voice like that. She put a hand on his cheek to make sure he will hear her every word and see her true intentions and feelings. “Yeah, I won Wimbledon. It was amazing and I never thought it would actually happen. Do I think I could have another big win? Yeah, maybe,” she admitted with a shrug, at which Niall opened his mouth to speak, but she simply put slightly more pressure on his cheek and continued. “But there’s also no guarantee it will happen. And I don’t want to spend another year or two or three or however long, chasing something that I don’t need. I haven’t managed to win French in the ten years I’ve been playing, so what’s to say I’ll win it now? I’m not the best on clay and that’s okay. Sure, it would have been incredible to win all four Slams. But I want to appreciate the success I had, not think of something I maybe could have had. I achieved way more than I ever dreamt of. So that’s more than enough for me.”

Her words were as earnest as possible, her eyes not leaving his, the corner of her lips gently tugged upwords. She really meant every word and a part of Niall already knew that, but his mind still wasn’t put at ease, he felt like his head had been spinning with too many thoughts since Saturday. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy about her winning, if there was anyone rooting for Lucy, it was always Niall, he took more pleasure from her successes than his own. But this one came with a lot of doubts.

“I just…,” Niall pulled away slightly, feeling the need to put a bit of distance between them for his next words. He kept his one hand inside hers, but the other tugged at his hair frustratedly. “I don’t want you to wake up someday and regret it. And resent me or our life together or our kids for not playing longer, for not going for more. Cause it would break my heart, Lulu, I don’t think I could live with that thought,” he finally said his biggest worry out loud, his eyes beginning to cloud.

Lucy gasped at his confession. The fact that Niall may have that worry didn’t even cross her mind. She was baffled, instantly feeling sick knowing that he’s been turning it over in his head for two days, when her stomach turned upside down just at the thought.

She squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to her, her own eyes filling up with tears. “Hey, come on, I could never ever resent you. Or our potential future children. I love you, baby,” her voice almost broke at the end and Niall didn’t even wait a second before enveloping her into a hug. She instantly climbed into his lap, hiding her face in his chest, breathing in his scent, before pulling away slightly to continue talking. “And even after winning, the thought to keep playing hasn't even crossed my mind. Which just means I’m ready to go.”

He looked at her, in his arms, both of them keeping eye contact, as if trying to look into each other’s souls or send an unspoken message.

Niall sighed after a minute, unwinding one of his hands from around her waist to run it over his face and rub his eyes.

“I just kept watching you being so happy these past days, and you’ve been asked about it in every interview and just…” he shook his head lightly, trying to take comfort in a hand she was rubbing over his arm and not get riled up again. “I’d never want to hold you back, I hope you know that.”

Lucy bit her lip, her heart soaring and aching at the same time. She was overwhelmed by the amount of love he had for her. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he would sacrifice everything for her own happiness. If only she wanted him to. It was bewildering to know that someone loved you this much. So much it was almost incomprehensible.

She licked her lips, thinking over her answer. She knew Niall had nothing to worry about, that his doubts weren’t even a possibility to her, but she didn’t want to make him feel silly, as it was a genuine concern that he was entitled to. Just because she knew there was absolutely no way that what he was worried about would ever happen, didn’t mean he was wrong for worrying about it. But now it was her job to make those doubts go away.

She grabbed his neck and spoke with a voice so confident that it’d hopefully get rid of all his doubts. “Yeah, they kept asking about it, but what did I say to that, hm? Every time they asked me about it, what did I say?” she looked at him expectantly until he sighed with defeat.

“That you’re incredibly excited for your life outside the court,” he said, pulling her closer, no space left between their bodies now.

“And?” she asked, a smile forming on her lips.

“And that you look forward to spending time with your husband,” he answered, his face finally mirroring hers, the furrow in his brows disappearing, his lips turning upwards.

“And I meant that,” she said earnestly, sealing her words with a kiss on his lips. “Cause I do want to focus on other things. I want to go on tour with you, watch you pour your heart out in front of thousands of people every night and wait for a sweaty hug right off the stage, like you do whenever you watch me play.” At that his smile grew wider, his nose crinkling cutely. “And I want to start working outside the court, maybe even have my hand in training another British Wimbledon champion, who knows,” she laughed at that prospect, because it barely seemed real, but Niall squeezed her waist as if to let her know it doesn’t have to be a joke. “I want to have a somewhat normal house life and yeah, have some children with you,” she shrugged, both of them looking at each other with admiration. “That’s what I’m most excited about right now. Besides, you know my knee’s been starting to act up and I don’t want to risk it getting worse. And I’d hate to have to quit because of an injury, I want to go on my own terms.”

Niall didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, so he focused on the latter part of her speech. “Do you think our child could be a Wimbledon champion? Could you actually imagine it?” he asked with a grin, probably already imagining little blond haired versions of themselves running around with tennis rackets in their hands.

Lucy laughed. “Well, I’d say our child could be anyone they’d want. Even Wimbledon champion.” She leaned in for a much needed kiss, but all he gave her was a peck, his head apparently filled with thoughts he just had to share now.

“That would be quite sick, actually.” His eyes were shining while looking at her, not even really focused, like he was picturing their future. “Mummy and daughter. Or son. Maybe you could even present the trophy!” He got so excited, Lucy could do nothing but laugh. How did they go from nearly fighting to making their potential child a champion, she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. “No, but seriously, would you be okay with our child playing? Professional? Would you like to be a coach?” He turned serious, focusing on her once more to gauge her reaction.

“If they wanted to play, of course I’d be fine with it. I’d worry and warn them about things, but I wouldn’t stop or discourage them. But I would not train them. I mean, I might be like a co-coach. Or an advisor.” How he coaxed her into actually discussing it, she did not know, but it was a power of his, making her want to do anything that got him this happy and excited. “But I wouldn’t be able to draw a line between being a mum and a coach. I’ve seen a lot of this on tour, and it’s not always bad, but not everyone is right for that. I know I’m not,” she admitted, shrugging. “But I would never push our children to play tennis. Okay, I might teach them how to play, but like for fun, not as a career.”

To Niall it didn’t seem possible that there was something his wife wouldn’t be able to do. She was a super human.

“I think once they see how awesome you were on court, they might want to be just like mummy,” he said with a grin, pinching her waist playfully.

“Well, let’s hope they won’t aspire to be like daddy,” she chuckled.

“Heeeeeey,” Niall whined with mock offense.

“Get bras and knickers thrown at them on stage.”

“Hahahaha, it’s not actually the best feeling,” he admitted.

“Okay, let’s stop this talk about children, before you get any actual ideas, because I do still have a few tournaments to play and whatnot.” She patted his chest and made a move to climb off his lap, but he only tightened his hold on her, not letting her go anywhere.

“But you do want to have some, right? Like, sooner than, let’s say, ten years from now?” He asked, genuinely curious as they never discussed it properly. Children had been mentioned here and there, but nothing more deliberate.

“Yeah, I do.” She nodded, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

“Okay. ‘Cause I want that too.” He leaned down to kiss her, properly this time, releasing all the earlier insecurities and frustrations into the kiss.

When their lips parted, Lucy combed her fingers through his hair, before speaking again, the subject of children bringing another thing to the front of her mind. “But first, I was actually thinking of buying a new house,” she admitted. “We talked about it when we got engaged and I think I’d actually want one now. I love this one, but I don’t know, I’d kinda like to get a new one, start a proper home once I’m done.”

She loved the home they were in now, it was the place where most of the important moments happened in their relationship, with Niall having it since before they even started dating. It was here where he said he loved her for the first time. He asked her to marry him here. They came back home to each other time and time again here. But it also wasn’t exactly ideal. The problem was never the fact that it was theoretically his house, not theirs. It just wasn’t a house she wanted to grow old in. She loved it, but it wasn’t theirs, not in the sense of ownership, but in a scene of making it personal. She also wanted a space that would truly be theirs, from the beginning, where none of them ever lived alone.

But it seemed like she didn’t have to even try to explain it to him, his face lighting up with a soft smile, planting a kiss on her cheek before speaking. “Yeah. I actually love that idea.”

~~~~~~

Lucy was able to stay home in London for over two weeks, before she had to travel to Montreal. It made her more than happy because it meant she was with Niall for One Direction's fifteenth anniversary, which was also the day the news about the band’s comeback were being released, with their new single coming out two days later. The announcement was planned to go out at 8pm UK time, but they all decided to have dinner and spend that evening together, meeting at Louis and Eleanor’s house. When they arrived, Liam and his wife, Maya were already there, Harry and Ines, his girlfriend of three years, arriving only a few minutes later. They’ve met like that before quite a few times, sometimes with Louis’ and Liam’s kids running around, so Lucy was more than acquainted with everyone, feeling completely at ease.

Even though the meal was delicious, they were all so excited and nervous, they couldn’t even sit still. Lucy noticed Niall’s knee bouncing two minutes after they sat at the table, putting her hand on his tight to at least try and calm him down.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this, can we tell the world now?” Louis whined, throwing his head back exasperatedly.

“I am honestly so stressed right now,” Harry joined in.

There was no missing of the group’s anxiety, everyone looking around, checking the time every few minutes.

“The food is delicious, but I think I might actually throw up,” Liam said, his body slacking against the chair.

“How about some stronger drinks to calm down? Or shots?” Eleanor proposed, all of them drinking beer or wine with dinner.

There was an instant chorus of agreement, Louis getting up to fix the drinks. They all moved from the table to lounge on the couches, none of them able to stomach any more food, no sounds in the room other than the soft music playing in the background and a quiet murmur of a few words shared between them.

“Okay, let’s do it!” Louis exclaimed, coming back with a tray full of shots.

“Cheers!” The boys said in unison once everyone grabbed a glass. The alcohol burned Lucy’s throat, her eyes screwing shut for a minute.

“Another one?” Niall proposed, not even a second later.

Lucy shook her head, watching her alcohol intake, as always when she was in the middle of the season, Maya also refused, but everyone else downed another glass, leaving two full ones meant for the girls. Liam and Niall looked at each other, before shrugging their shoulders at exactly the same time and grabbing another glass.

“How much longer?” Ines asked, looking around in search of some clock.

“Twenty eight minutes,” Niall replied after checking his watch.

“Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot, congrats on Wimbledon once again, Lucy, that was absolutely amazing,” Maya said with a smile.

Everyone in the room either texted or called her or Niall on the day she won, but that acknowledgement face to face was nice.

“Thank you, it was crazy,” she gave a grateful smile, after everyone added their congrats, Niall throwing an arm around her shoulders to bring her closer. She caught the proud look he was giving her and put a hand on his knee in an appreciative manner.

“Do you think we could come watch you play in the US Open?” Harry asked, redirecting his attention to Niall right after. “We’re free then, right?”

“Yeah, I made sure of that,” he confirmed proudly.

“Umm…” Lucy hesitated for a second, trying to explain how it works. “Yeah, I can get you tickets, no problem, it’s just hard to plan it a little bit, because I don’t know how deep I’ll go.” She didn’t want them to be bored at the first round match, but she also couldn’t predict when her last match would be. It still felt surreal, that she would play her last game in less than two months.

“How incredible would it be if you won that one too?” Liam asked with a grin.

“Mental,” Louis agreed.

“I reckon she could do it,” said Eleanor, looking at Lucy with confidence.

Because their bodies were touching, Lucy could easily feel Niall’s body tensing in reaction to the conversation, the memory of their recent fight still fresh in both of their minds. She didn’t turn her head to get a better look at him, but squeezed his knee as a reminder that it wouldn’t change anything for her.

“Don’t bet any money on me, though”, she laughed, before changing the subject. “Are you walking any fashion weeks this year, Maya?”

While she listened to the answer, Niall reached for her hand splayed on his knee, slotting their fingers together in a silent thank you. That’s how they spent the next couple of minutes, trying to keep conversation going, Louis making sure everyone had a drink in their hand. There was a nervous tension in the room, even though they knew what would happen, all the posts queued up, the reaction they would get was a question mark. They could only hope, basing their expectations on previous love they always got from their fans. But it had been years and things changed, yet it was impossible to prepare for disappointment.

“Oh shit, just one more minute,” Louis said, looking at the time on his phone.

“Let’s count it down!” Ines proposed.

So they did, the last ten seconds, just like on New Year’s Eve. To think of it, there were some similarities, looking forward to something new, things changing, entering a new era almost. When they came to zero, you could almost hear a pin drop. It only took a second for all of the guys’ phones to go off, indicating one notification after the other. They were all stood in a circle, their respective better halves right next to them. Lucy had her arm around Niall’s waist, looking through his shoulder to read some of the comments, the whole world starting to freak out. There wasn’t one person in the room who didn’t have a huge grin on their faces. The women look proudly at their men, knowing how hard they worked, how much love and passion they put into the band. It seemed like all the guys looked up at each other at the same moment, taking deep breaths and stepping closer to wrap one another in their famous four way hug. Eleanor wrapped her arm around Lucy’s shoulder, who looked at the other woman happily, noticing tears pulling in her eyes. She reached her other hand for Ines, who also grabbed Maya and they just stood like that for a minute. The band squeezing each other and whispering excitedly among themselves, while their lovers embraced as well, forming their own little group, looking at their loved ones with so much awe, their eyes glistening with emotion.

After a minute, Harry pulled slightly away, looking behind him at the women. “Come on, get in here, girls,” he said, beckoning them over.

So they joined them, each one next to their man, Lucy squeezed between Niall and Ines. They were all holding each other tightly, a one of a kind bond. There was no comparing it to what those four guys had, but they all felt like family. They were all connected and none of them would have it any other way, forming genuine friendships they all cherished.

Niall twisted his head to the side to kiss Lucy on the crown of her head, before she turned her head as well to meet him in a proper kiss. They were both so happy, they couldn’t stop smiling, their teeth clicking against each other. But they were just so ecstatic. There were no words to describe the feeling. And Niall’s happiness was through the roof, because he was so appreciative to share that moment with Lucy. Nothing could beat having her with him, being able to share it, because it felt like a once in a lifetime thing. Having her to support him and calm him down when needed, and now to share that joy with her. He truly felt like, if she wasn’t there beside him, he wouldn’t be as happy as he was. And maybe that was wrong, maybe he shouldn’t feel like that, but he did. Because his wife made everything better. It was that simple. Seeing her proud and smiling, made the whole situation better. Sharing anything with the people you love makes it better. Whether it’s sadness, problems, successes or happiness. And there was no better thing to share than love.

September 2025

It was impossible to prepare for a moment like this, Lucy thought finally walking back into the hotel room in New York. It was after 3am. She finished playing, her last professional match ever, about an hour and a half ago. Even after the little goodbye ceremony after her loss and a press conference, it still didn’t feel completely real. She had quite a few of those farewell moments, almost at every tournament she played this year. She knew what was coming, after all she made that decision in December. Maybe it was because she didn’t know which match would be her last, didn’t know how far she'd go, just happy with every win she got.

She felt such a mixture of emotions, it was hard to wrap her head around it all. The goodbye she got was amazing, the organizers playing a little video of all the years she competed, including her triumph on Flashing Meadows, and messages from fellow players. She felt a bit sad, but she always did when she lost. A bit proud, because she didn’t go without a fight, the match an over two hour, three sets battle. Excited because a part of her was waiting for that moment, when she’ll be able to truly think about the future and focus on upcoming projects. But most of all, she was simply appreciative. That she had such a good season, that she was able to play every tournament she wanted, that she gave it her all and was able to keep playing on a good level, that after finishing this last game, she was able to look out into the crowd (who was giving her a standing ovation) and not only see Niall, but also her parents, Mia, Harry, Liam and Maya.

Once the door to their hotel room closed, Lucy was exhausted. She had a quick shower right after the match, so technically she could go straight to bed, but her mind was buzzing.

“Lulu,” Niall said, leaving his shoes by the door and walking up to her, his hands going to her waist immediately, to bring her close to him, “how are you feeling?”

Lucy rested her head on his chest, quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of her mumbled thoughts. “I… I’m feeling good?” she said, but it sounded more like a question. “It’s… surreal, still. Maybe ask me tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He cemented his words with a caring kiss to the crown of her head.

“But I’m okay, really,” she assured him. “Kinda sad, kinda happy. Relieved?” Her answer was more like a question again, like she was looking for a right answer, but wasn’t sure if it was one. “I don’t know, it doesn’t really seem like it’s the end yet, you know, that I won’t play like this again.”

He hummed, thinking for a quick second before asking another question, “are you going to miss it?”

“Yeah, probably,” she shrugged. “It’s going to be weird, not having to train, no tournaments to prepare for or look forward to. But it’ll be fun to see what’s ahead, you know? Slow down a bit, maybe, explore other things in life. And spend time with you, obviously. Watch you and the band. It’s gonna be good, baby.”

“Will you miss your team?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. But I hope we’ll keep in touch. Maybe work together again, you know, if I open that training centre or if we get someone to manage… Who knows.”

He nodded, “I’m really proud of you, you know? I’m in awe of your decision, to do things your way.”

“Thank you. It was the right call, I can tell. The next few months will be weird, I’m sure, but it’ll be worth it. I’m actually really excited to see what’s to come.”

Tennis was all she knew. In a way, it became her routine. Sure, there were some tournaments changes, but it was also pretty much the same for years upon years, ten months of traveling, playing here and there, hard court, clay, grass, then hard court again. A quick vacation after that before going back to training full force to prepare for the next season. Over and over again. And now, thinking about the future might have been scary, but it was also nice to do something new. Have a fresh mind. Have an option of doing something else, an opportunity to just travel by Niall’s side for a bit. To focus on something other than tennis. To explore what else she might be good at.

“Oh, could you maybe ask Harry and Liam to join us for dinner on Thursday? With the girls, of course. Louis is still in California, right?” She was pretty sure she mentioned something about it when they talked after the match, but her tiredness and emotions made it hard to focus. She also asked her manager to actually organise it, make a reservation at the restaurant and all, so she didn’t know any specifics yet.

“Of course, don’t worry, they know it’s happening, I’ll send them the details in the morning. And yes, Tommo is still there, he’s meeting us in LA.”

They had a few more days off, the guys had to be in Los Angeles on Monday to do some promo for their reunion and second single, Niall made sure to book time off for all two weeks of the US Open, but because she had lost in the quarterfinals, it was just Tuesday, well, very early hours of Wednesday, giving them some time to relax.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” he proposed, planting another kiss on her head, her arms still tight around his waist, her cheek pressed to his body, so close she could feel his heartbeat underneath it.

She shook her head slightly, pulling away to look at him. “I can’t, my mind is spinning. I need it to stop first.” She put one of her hands up to tread through his hair, before cradling his cheek. She then raised up onto her tiptoes to join their lips, the kiss starting slow, but growing more passionate with every lick into his mouth. Her hand travelling under his shirt and the other going back to his hair to tug at it slightly, let him know exactly what she meant. “Are you too tired?” she asked parting for a second to catch her breath, before moving to work on the delicious skin of his neck.

Seeing his wife like that always did things to Niall. It wasn’t even about her having very clear intentions, but how he knew she wanted him to take care of her. How she needed him. Lucy was an absolute beast on court, Niall’s favourite text to send her before a match was “go get them, tiger”. But after the game was finished, especially after a tough battle, she was nothing but gentle. In desperate need of hugs, kisses and someone to take care of her. It wasn’t the first time they had sex in a situation like that, her needing to quiet her thoughts, but also to give up control, after having been so focused and alone on court.

And right now was no different, she wanted to get lost in Niall, needing the quiet only he could bring her.

“Never too tired to help you,” he assured, grabbing her neck gently to pull her lips back to his. To Niall, there was no bigger compliment than this, this incredible woman not only counting on him, but giving herself to him completely, body and soul.

And as he grabbed her thighs to pick her up and carry her to the bed, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind, that he would take care of her. In the best possible way.

taglist: @stylishmuser​ @verorax​ @georgiahoranxx​ @exoticniall​

#1dff #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan oneshot #one direction fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan one shot #one direction fan fiction #one direction one shot #dtl #down the line

[hermannsthumb]

90+96?

90. Unexpected Virgin + 96. Scars 

from fanfiction trope mashup here

continuation of me filling ancient, 2 year old prompts in my inbox! sometimes you just gotta return to the basics and write post-movie first time :’) this is the first thing ive written on my new laptop, MOMENTOUS OCCASION. as u might have guessed 18+/NOT SFW BELOW CUT

—————

They’re about an hour into the impromptu We Didn’t Die! party currently ravaging the base when Hermann–stripped out of his sweatervest, and clutching his cane like a lifeline–suddenly grips Newt by the forearm and swings him around to face him. “Newton,” he declares, as the contents of Newt’s plastic cup slosh to the floor, “I would like to invite you back to my quarters.”

It’s probably due to the two shots of vodka Newt downed in quick succession about twenty minutes into the impromptu party that the innuendo flies right over his head, and, instead of accepting enthusiastically, he merely draws his face into a pout. It’s not unusual for Hermann to force him to go to bed, especially after a week of all-nighters in the lab, but now? During this? They’re practically guests of fucking honor. “To sleep? Lame. I’m not tired. Hey, unwind, have a drink!” He pushes his plastic cup into Hermann’s face.

Hermann pushes it away. “I believe you misunderstood me,” he says. “I’m asking you to have sex with me, Newton.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

They’re out of LOCCENT in a flash, and bursting through the door of Hermann’s cramped quarters in another. Newt has been fucking vibrating with energy all day long–excitement, elation, fear, straight-up terror–and he’s more than ready to unleash all twelve hours’ worth of it, plus twelve years’ worth of pathetic pining, on Hermann in the most awesome, cathartic victory sex the world has ever seen. And now that they’re finally alone–now that they’re finally alone together–

“I am so fucking horny right now,” Newt breathes. He kicks off his boots: one of them flies across the room and knocks over a precariously-balanced stack of books, while the other smacks against Hermann’s dresser and sends a photograph of Newt and Hermann crashing to the floor. “Holy shit, you have no clue. Oh my God.” Truthfully, he’s been sporting a half-boner since he threw his arm around Hermann in LOCCENT, and Hermann gave him that little smile and tucked up against him, but Hermann doesn’t need to know that. 

Hermann’s eyes are dark, and his pupils are wide. He wets his lips as those eyes sweep over Newt. “I. Ah. I am, as well.”

“Fuck yes,” Newt says. He moves his hands to his collar, where he rips off his tie, but he stops at his buttons with a grin. He could at least pretend to play hard to get. “Hey, you want me to take my shirt off?”

“That’s typically what’s done, isn’t it?” Hermann says. “During–” He clears his throat. “During these sorts of things?”

“Right,” Newt says. “Okay, do yours too.”

They take their shirts off. Hermann is sporting a nice set of shoulders and biceps, and an even nicer set of pecs, and Newt thinks that trim waist would be the perfect size to wrap his fingers around, but his too-pale skin hugs his ribs a little too-tightly. There’s not a hint of hair in sight. The exact opposite of Newt, basically, in all his hairy, tattooed, out of shape glory. It’s kind of perfect. Newt bets they’d fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces.

He wolf-whistles before he can help himself. “I should’ve known you’d be even hotter under all those stupid sweaters.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. His mouth twitches up into a coy echo of his earlier smile. “Thank you. I think.”

Newt wants to get all over that hot bod, and so he does, inching up to Hermann until their stomachs brush and their chins bump, and planting his hands on either side of that neat, sexy waist. He’s right about it being the perfect size to grab. Hermann watches him through his dark lower lashes, standing perfectly still; he’s holding his breath. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” Newt says.

Hermann nods.

They kiss. It’s pretty cool, even if Hermann stands as stiff as a board, arms hanging limply at his sides, and even if when he finally decides to use tongue it’s at the moment Newt decides to use teeth and he ends up firmly biting down on it. “Ow,” Hermann hisses, pulling back sharply.

“Sorry,” Newt says. “I haven’t gotten laid in ages. I kinda forget how to, uh...” He tries to kiss Hermann again, but at Hermann’s darkening, skeptical expression, drops it. “Uh, you wanna take this to the bed?”

“Take off your jeans first,” Hermann says.

They stare at each other.

“Not–I mean yes, but–what I mean is they’re filthy,” Hermann snaps. “I’m not having you dirty up my sheets. Grime and blood and who on Earth knows what else.”

“Sure,” Newt says, and grins again. He fumbles with his belt and drops his jeans, and Hermann’s gaze drops too. Never one to pass up putting on a show, Newt tips his crotch forward to make his boner just that bit more prominent, and just that bit more in Hermann’s personal space. “Like what you’re seeing?”

Hermann nods.

Newt takes Hermann’s right hand and places it on his hip, just the waistband of his boxers. “You wanna take these off?” he says. He punctuates the question with a little kiss to Hermann’s throat. It’s so smooth–not at all like the scratchy, stubbly mess across Newt’s. He kisses it again, just ‘cause it’s nice, and feels more than hears the low rumble of a groan that rises in the back of it. Hermann’s shut his eyes.

“Ah–Newton–”

When it becomes clear Hermann won’t be sticking his hands down Newt’s boxers any time soon, Newt backs him up to his bed and pushes him down into it. Hermann sprawls backwards with a small thump. His cane clatters to the floor. “You gotta do some of the work here, dude,” Newt laughs.

To his surprise, Hermann flushes. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I haven’t much. Er. Experience, with this sort of thing. I’m not quite sure what to do.”

This comes as no small surprise to Newt. Hermann’s just…Hermann, y’know? He’s bitchy, and weird, and kind of weird-looking, but he has a sexy way of rolling his r’s and a sexy mouth and, apparently, a sexy bod, and if Newt–the guy’s certifiable rival–has wanted to get into his pants for ages, he’s sure he can’t have been the only one. But hell if the thought of being the first one to do it doesn’t turn him on likes crazy. “Luckily for you, I’m a pro at sex,” he lies. “I’m amazing. Just ask anyone. Wait, uh, not anyone, I don’t mean–”

“I know,” Hermann says. He sits up and plucks at Newt’s waistband. “May I take these off now?” He wets his lips again.

“By my fucking guest, dude,” Newt says.

Hermann tucks two elegant, nimble fingers under the elastic and slips Newt’s underwear down to pool around his ankles, finally letting his erection breathe a little. Newt leers down at him. “What about now?” he says. “Huh? You like this?”

But Hermann isn’t looking at his dick, inches from his nose though it is; Hermann’s looking to the left of it. “You have a scar here,” he says, and pokes at a small expanse of skin on Newt’s thigh between two tattoos.

“Uh,” Newt says. “Yeah, dude. I rammed into a table when I was rollerskating in the house once and had to get stitches.”

Hermann traces his fingers over the scar. “You must have been quite the handful as a child,” he says wryly.

The incident in question happened when Newt was twenty-four, but he decides it’s best to not divulge that particular bit of information to Hermann. “Uh. Yeah.”

Hermann reaches down and unbuckles his own belt, then begins to partially wriggle out of his stupid baggy pants and tighty-whiteys. “We’re matching,” he says. “Look.”

His left hip and thigh is a mess of scar tissue that Newt imagines, at one point, must’ve hurt like a bitch. Way more than Newt’s stupid incident with the roller skates. Way more than could even be compared to Newt’s stupid incident with the roller skates. But he smiles anyway: he likes the idea of it being some giant, flashing sign from the universe of their drift compatibility. “Have you looked in the mirror?” he says, and shuts his non-bloodied eye to make his point. “We’re not just matching there.”

“Hopefully not permanently,” Hermann says. He finally turns his attention on Newt’s dick, scrutinizing it like it’s one of his incomprehensible equations. It gets Newt even hotter. “Would you like to have sex now? I’m eager to put your renowned skills to the test.”

Newt doesn’t miss the sarcasm. It’d be kind of hard to. “Jackass,” he says. “Move over, I’m getting in.”

Hermann divests himself of the rest of his clothing and shuts off the overhead light while Newt makes himself comfortable on Hermann’s bed, though he leaves his small bedside lamp on to cast them both in a cozy yellow glow. All of Hermann’s room is shockingly cozy, in fact: the quilt tucked in neatly to his cushy mattress, the tea kettle on his dresser, the soft rug on the floor, the space heater (shut off) half-hidden in the corner. No wonder Hermann sleeps in so late. If Newt’s setup was like this, he’d never leave his quarters either.

“We could get under this, if you’d like,” Hermann says, pinching a bit of the quilt. “It’ll be warmer. It can get very chilly in here.” He fidgets. “And. Er. It’ll be easier to wash my sheets, rather than…”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Newt says.

They move under the quilt. Hermann’s breath is warm on Newt’s face, and losing a layer seems to have imbibed Hermann with a newfound sense of confidence; his hands begin wandering across Newt’s body, up his sides, down his back, squeezing and pinching his skin, cupping his ass, and he layers kiss after kiss to Newt’s neck, his throat, his jaw. Newt rocks into each touch and moans helplessly. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Hermann murmurs into his ear. 

Newt laughs weakly. He’s gotten cute once or twice, but he doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him beautiful. It’s nice. He likes it. “Aw, dude.”

“You are,” Hermann says. “I’ve always thought you were. It’s been a terrible distraction in the laboratory.” He leans in and kisses Newt, still as graceless and chaste as before, but his low murmur has returned when he finishes, and it makes heat pool in Newt’s stomach. “Mm, sometimes all I could think about was how badly I wanted you.”

“Sometimes I used to jack off after we argued,” Newt blurts out.

Hermann blinks, surprised, and laughs. “Did you?”

“In the bathroom. Once in the supply closet. Nnh. Ah, fuck, Hermann, fuck–”

Bored of talking, apparently, Hermann’s decided to creep his hand lower and curl it around Newt’s dick. His touch is light, and unsure, and it kinda just makes it all even sexier. “I wish you told me this was your first time,” Newt whines out, pushing into Hermann’s fist. “I would’ve, guh, bought you dinner. Or something. We could’ve waited. Made it–made it meaningful.”

“Darling,” Hermann says, “this is perfect.”

Hermann kisses him; Newt comes, gasping and whining into his mouth. It’s a little embarrassing. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him beautiful, but he knows no one’s ever called him darling, and with Hermann the one being so sweet to him--it’s too much.

“Shit,” he pants afterwards, while Hermann examines the sticky mess on his fingers with mild interest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to--I wanted to last longer.”

“Oh, we’ve got all night,” Hermann says, sounding pleased. He wipes his fingers off with tissues from a box on his bedside, then drags Newt’s hand under the covers to cup his own neglected dick, fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly. Newt swallows down a whimper. It’s not fair that Hermann is doing better at this than Newt. “I would like very much for you to touch me.”

“Okay,” Newt squeaks.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #not sfw /////

[blorbosexterminator]

AND I am back. Once again on this lovely day to give my review for the EPISODE 24 so, here we go :

Agustin is squinting his eyes at him, as Sergio keeps muttering that Agustin has in fact done what he just mentioned he did and which both of them have known for years. 

Federico is 99% dead?! Damn, what is Sergio's gonna do?! Make it 100% ? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

(I got a feeling that Federico is the kidnapper or atleast a very important lead to them)

Btw, WHO IS FEDERICO?! Tatiana's alive husband?!

(Look at me, hoping like a moron she aint dead

My dog : Yep, total moron 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Me :

Me : NOBODY ASKED FOR YOUR BITCH-ASS OPINION, YOU DUMB-FUCK DONKEY!!!! 😡😡😡)

Martin, my darling, my sweetheart, my poor angel. Nada, some help? Atleast gimme some tips, bruh, come on, you cant desert me like that. Not when I need to help someone 🙁🙁🙁

since, drunk, the last idea he got was that Laura turned out to be completely insane and kidnapped Andrés to marry him

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Martin, honey, stop drinking. This getting out of hand 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. But then again, Andres is so hot poor thing keeps on doubting.

As Roci said in one of the tags, his wives deserve the highest civilian award for putting up with him.

(Although, I just had a frisky thought. What if Sergio wanted Andres away from Martin, not because he cared bout his hermano but......😳😳😳😳😳 *whispers loudly* he wanted Andres all for himself? In *frantically looks around* INCEST WAY?!)

(Calm down, my deranged mind, you went too far 🤣🤣🤣)

Who knows, it could be the professor he punched in the middle of an exam once. Martín doesn’t think he has forgiven him.

Mood, bruh, such a mood 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 NO, OMG 😆😆😆 I didnt do it, but I do kinda have a beef with my Organic prof. I'll go off tangent again, so tell me if you wanna know the story.

He sent Silene in disguise to collect the cctv from the nearby shops and streets. His own cctv has been disabled since the IT bitch ruined it, Martín will kill him when he gets them back.

I think if and only IF Silene finds something good, her % of redemption will increase.

(Raquel s2e7 deja vu, I see what you did there 😏)

And Martin about to go John Wick on anyone & everyone. I tell ya Keanu Reeves will be crying when he sees Martin go nuts. I am willing to bet he'll pull a gun on the poor milkman, who just wanna do his job 😆😆😆

So he calls Bogota, with a little (not that little) handwritten list in his hand with the names of people he thinks he might have ruined their life in the past. 

Martin : Okay, I'll just take out the list and

*the paper rolls out the door, travels around the world for 5 times and comes back while going over top of Everest and bottom of Marina Trench*

No, it’s because when he hated Martín, he had always hated him openly. If he wanted to hurt him, then he’d just try to stab him in the middle of the living room.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Bogota, did Tatiana have any family?”

“No, who of us did, Martín?”

“You literally have 7 children and 7 ex-wives.”

COMEDY GOLD, NADA 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Those kids are ungrateful bastards, if I fall dead tomorrow they would just run to see what they’ve inherited.”

Aka THE PLOT of 70% Indian Telenovas 🤣🤣🤣. Also this line alone has so much soap opera vibes 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

He has no choice but to go to fucking Sergio Marquina. And if it’s his wife, then even better. Keep your friends close but keep your enemies closer. 

For fuck sake, Martín, Ive been telling you from last 2 ep

Stop. Blaming. Raquel.

Also, 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 damn, these 2 assholes cant keep away from each other. Nada, are we sure these 2 married the right people? As much I am a Berlermo ship stan, this here is just smth else 😆😆😆

Uh-oh 🙁 this asshole son of a bitch just poked the mama bear. And if ANDRES of all people narrows his eyes at you, You are, quoting Martin from last ep, truly, utterly, entirely, thoroughly and wholly fucked.

“Do you know him?”

“Oh yes, a childhood friend, I stole his pencil once and he never forgave me. Have you heard this Paula? Don’t steal your friends’ pencils, they will never get over the betrayal. You could steal the teacher’s ones though.”

“Why did you steal his pencil?” Paula asked seriously, with a delirious tone, and too tired to even move her head upwards. Raquel is gonna kill every single person involved for doing this to her daughter.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Sassy Andres = Best Andres. Words that should be written with GOLD. Wisdom passed onto generations

Poor Paula 🤣🤣🤣 I just imagine this in some other situation :

Andres : *saying smth smth*

Paula : *taking notes & asking questions*

Raquel after seeing her daughter :

Look what you made me do

🎶But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time

Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time

I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined

I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!

Ooh, look what you made me do

Look what you just made me do🎶

(Look what you made me do by Taylor Swift)

I am telling you Nada, by the time Raquel will be done with everyone, Uma Thurman will cry buckets because no one, okay?, no one can compete with A MAMA BEAR RAQUEL MURILLO.

“Poison is a woman’s choice of weapon, Anibal. Don’t be disrespectful.”

Again, words of wisdom. Only time hes not being a misogynist.

Also, Andres, my dear, are you speaking this from experience?

(Why do I think that Martin got Tatiana killed cause she poisoned him and Martin had to watch Andres fight for his life in hospital?)

“He won’t say anything, Mama. He’s the one who kidnapped grandma with Silene!”

Is anyone gonna listen to her? Or do I need to bonk Raquel myself? 🤦‍♀️

“Silence!” she screams. “I need to know everything that happened, if we’re getting out of here alive.” 

FINALLY!!!! SOME COMMON SENSE!!!! WE THANK THE LORD FOR MERCY!!!

And as for me, its time for me to say goodbye and goodnight (Cause its quarter to 12 rn in my watch)

AND ILL SEE YALL TOMORROW 🤗 BYE!!! 🙋‍♀️

I'm back as well! And we've finally caught up with each other.

Valid reaction. Sergio is also slowly going insane. Love that for him.

He's hoping he could. We all know this family has beef with that last one percentage.

(we'll see👀👀👀)

Hope is all we got at this point afabgs.

Now, now, don't speak to him like that. He has valid criticism.

I'd help him if I could, but alas (lmfao no, I do love them suffering)

Same recommendation. But he just, poor boy, could nothing to think of. So might as well be Laura. (also fair, who knows, maybe Andrés gets constantly kidnapped and forced into marriage)

Definitely, she's 100%. I really don't know how they do it.

Avsnsjsvjshsjs all theories are valid. Maybe Sergio does want Martín or Andrés, who knows what goes in the head of that fucker.

Seems like an interesting story! I never got along with my chemistry teachers. (Got one once to tell me that he's still not kicking me out of class only because he feels bad for my parents that they have to deal with me and they'll be the ones who will have to deal with the mess lmfao.)

Yes, have some faith in her!

100% accurate. Martín is this close from just shooting random people in the supermarket because they also could be the ones who kidnapped Andrés.

HAHAHA YES. This is exactly how the scene went.

We stan honesty in this house.

So happy you found it funny!!

I can confirm! Like 70% of all Egyptian drama as well.

I don't think he's hearing you well. But afnajscsgsh SAME. Okay look, now I really understand show runners with super homoerotic ships that they refuse to make canon. You try and make two male characters hate each other so much for plot then it slips and gets homoerotic.

Totally agree. This guy isn't making enemies with the right people (they are all dumb, but also none of them have anything that even resembles a moral compass)

Totally agree. This guy is honestly super amusing to watch and it's mainly because he's incapable of taking any situation in life seriously.

This family is really iconic. (love the song agsnsg) but also like Raquel would basically tell her after writing done his notes just put the title on top: things to never, ever, do.

I believe you! They really fucked with the wrong dumb family.

I mean, he's still a misogynist. Maybe some of us really like dagger, has he considered that?

That's as valid theory as any right there.

Hopefully Raquel will finally start listening to the child!

Raquel is the only one with a semblance of common sense.

Hope you had a good sleep! I'll see you tomorrow!

#thanks again kal!! #lovely review as always #Ramadan Telenovela #A Spanish Tale

[clownbeep]

This is gonna be kinda brutal. But I want to put it into writing

Big vent/whats been going on

Hah... I guess this is like my life story or some shit...

Trigger warning ahead.. Depression and a bit of gore/suicide talk so if you are sensitive to that please, for your own sake and mental state you might not want to continue.

For those who dont want to hear a pretty dark vent, I understand.

And those who are just scrolling by feel free to scroll past. I just personally want to get this out.

If you have dealt with emotional neglect/abuse and need to know it isnt in your head this might be the post.

By writing this it feels like hopefully someone else will read this and realise certain things are NOT healthy.

If you are questioning if you are being emotionally neglected/abused (im speaking in a parental sense but even romantically or sexually) im not someone to give you answers, but the fact you are questioning it raises some red flags. In a healthy relationship you dont wonder those things.

Sorry for the long prelude but heres what I wanted to say

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Ever since I was young, ive had bad ADHD, manic bipolar/depression, and sensory issues.

I was diagnosed around 13 I believe. My family (I didnt realise it then) always showed pity. Like I was some wild animal that couldnt be tamed and there was nothing they could do. Id do and say stupid attention seeking things just to try and get a shred of empathy.

My family didnt care.

When I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt regaurding pills and my liver had a chance of failing.. None of my family members cried over me. But a family friend. Someone not. Even. Related. Wept over me.

My family didnt care.

I cant say they never cared. They give me food water and luxuries like internet and a phone. For that I am grateful.

But in many other ways they have hurt me faar more than helped.

Once I got out of a short term stay in an inpatient mental facility I desperately needed contact with anyone who would care for me.

I have a younger sister, quite young probably around 7 at the time. She was a close friend of mine for that time. Id hang out with her so often to fill the gap in love it felt my family didnt give. One day I walked into the dining room and overheard my mother and father talking to my little sister. They told her to keep away because I wasnt "stable" because I was "dangerous" and could give her bad Ideas. And with one single action my only friend at the time and way to find happiness was taken away.

My family did not care.

When I stay in bed every day for months on end not knowing which day ill snap and end it all.... I get called lazy.

My family did not care

When I beg for medication to make me a functional human being they brush me off for years on end. Im losing my grip. I can barely remember things that have happened last week because I try so hard to forget everything its my automatic response to everything.

When I cant get to sleep because all of the memories come flooding back and im hit by wave after wave of horrific memories and the feeling if worthlessness... When I cant watch any videos or read posts about families because it brings on unwanted memories and emotions....

Is it me being dramatic then?

When you hear your family openly mocking and laughing about how stupid and dramatic and fake trans people are... How weird and unnatural and mentally insane these people are not knowing they are the very reason grsm and trans suicides are so high...

Am I a liar now? Am I insane?

When I tried to talk to them about my mental health issues. They took my only way of contact and made me feel like it was my own fault.

My family didnt care.

When I was nearly passed out shaking in a bathtub covered in wounds and blood all over... They showed pity, then lectured me for an hour for not telling them or for being impulsive and basically cleaned my wounds and sent me into my room.

My family didnt care.

Yes. I do agree, they cleaned my wounds, the physical side of showing care. However emotionally they were not there.

When my father drinks so heavilly every day he is home from work that he forgets half the things he tells you and can barely function.. They lecture my older sister for having a glass of wine (legal age)

They did not care.

My sister (23) tried for so many years to cling to what little attention she would get by getting good grades and going to college... She realised that it changed nothing about how my family felt toward her.... She snapped.

My family did not care.

She starves herself for a disease she does not have, she uses religion as an exuse to be one of the biggest christian extremists I personally know. Half the days she doesnt eat... Other days she burns book and gets rid of items for being demonic.

My lovely sister used to be kind and quite normal. However she couldnt find comfort in what little live her family gave. Starved for care she turned to religion to un unhealthy degree. Finding any way to keep her mind busy. Now I worry she will end up in the hospital for weighing so little.

My family did not care.

My oldest sister (27) Is married to a continuously cheating husband who she keeps letting back into her life. She was raised with a failing marrige and doesnt seem to see when she should call it quits.

Not to mention her husband has touched someone legally under the age of concent. Did she report him to the authorities? No.

All of these horrific things stemming from bad parenting. Unhealthy relationships and neglect.

Neglect emotionally can cause just as bad things as physical neglect. They are both horrifically dangerous in different ways.

These are the only big things I can remember... Basically age 15 and below are a complete blur to me and I cant remember much of it without thinking for a looong time. Even then I cant remember a lot of it... I feel like ive lost my whole damn childhood. And it hurts more than if they had just hit me or physically harmed me.

Im not underplaying physically harm. But in my personaly opinion I would rather my family have beaten me badly because at least then id have an easier way to prove to people how severe the abuse was. You can see bruises and confirm broken bones... But years of feeling completely useless and being shut off from most of the world other than the internet... It fucks you up in a way I dont think can be healed.

I dont know if I can ever love myself or... Remember things. Its terrifying to think Ill post this and a few weeks later probably not even rememner unless its brought up. Or meeting people and having conversations... And they are just... Gone.

Gone.

I suppose the biggest reason im writing this is well... In the future I dont want to forget in some ways.. I want like to be 100× as awesome knowing itll start as soon as im out of here..

If I dont have anything to compare it too then what is the point?

Ive layed out basically most of what I remember

A large amount of time I look around and nothing registers... Everything is familiar but I cant remember anything for a moment or two.. I feel like my memory is slipping so fast and im terrified.. I cant do anything to stop it and I cant make my mood be stable without the medication my family cant be bothered to get ...

I suppose this is a bit of a vent. I know its kind of everywhere and unorganized..

If im honest.. Tumblr is the only place where people have given me a home I wish I had..

I came out as trans here... Everyone was so damn supportive.. I didnt say anything but I cried hard and the kindness.. It was amazing.. It was such a jarring difference to how I feel when I say anything in real life.

Ive met friends here and ive had some much fun here. If youve stuck around this far thank you so much.. If you didnt I dont blame you.

I just wanted to share what has been flashing in my head these past few days.. It hurts a lot and ive even considered suicide recently..

Im trying hard. As hard as I can.. I have no escape though.

I cannot leave home. I cannot escape. Im not being dramatic.

I

CANT

LEAVE

And its terrifying because I know without medication or at least being somewhere AWAY from family.... I feel like im going to break soon.

I dont want to do anything stupid.. But some days I cant think straight and do things that harm myself and its not good. Its not okay. Im aware that I need help but I have no idea where to go/turn.. I have no ID or drivers liscence.. I have no transportation to and from a job to get money so I can leave... I live in the middle of nowhere.... I just..

I dont want to lose touch. I dont want to do anything bad.. I want to be functional.. I want to do more than eat and sleep my life away because I have nothing else to do..

Im so damn sick and tired of this all.. And at times I really do feel like there is only one way out.

Its always there and I just feel like one of these days im gonna be pushed over the edge and not be thinking clearly enough to stop it.

Im thinking semi clearly right now which is my im posting this.. Because im afraid and alone.

I have nowhere to go irl I have no friends Irl i just have tumblr and media and thats it. I dont expect anyone to be able to help I just wanted to write this so anyone knows what happens if I leave media..

If I tell my family my issues they will blow me off again for the 11th time or so (not exaggerated)

And if I do something to get sent to the hospital and get the help I need the cycle will continue with them being pissed and me getting sent home in a month or less anly for my family relationships to get worse..

Im spiraling fuether and further and I cant keep up the facade of being fine. I need help. And i have no way to get it. Ive just been suffering for years...

Sitting around and doing nothing but using your phone or drawing or whatever sound fun in theory... But if thats all youve been able to do for years with little to no real life social contact its gonna mess with your head... I dont want to be a shut in... I just

I dont know what to do.

Im sorry for rambling. I will most likely delete this later feeling embarrassed I posted this...

Im just tired..

#trigger warning #triggering #may be triggering #vent #emotional neglect #emotional abuse #suicide #suicide trigger #gore warning #memory problems #ramble #rambles

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

         The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

          That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

          And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

          “[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

          You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

          “Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

         Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         “I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

         “On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

         As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

        “Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

        Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

       You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

       The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

      If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

      When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

      You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

      “Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

      “Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

      “I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

      Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

      You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

      Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

      “You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

      Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

      “Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

      You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

      “You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

      You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

      “Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

      Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

      “Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

      Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

      So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

       “I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

      You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

      He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

      You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

      “In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

      Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

      The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

      You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

      Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

      And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

      You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud. 

      Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

      “I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

      “You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

      “But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

      It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

      “What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

      “You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

      Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

       “It will.” 

        When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

       While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

       “Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.” 

       You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

       You were using Michael Mell.

#mj's writing corner #be more chill #bmc #be more chill x reader #bmc x reader #be more chill reader insert #bmc reader insert #jeremy heere #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine

[mirsfa]

dangerously (iv)

Genre: Uhm. Kinda everything, from angst through fluff to smut Word count: 17k (i am so sorry) Pairing: Prince!Jaehyun x Mafia!Reader Warning: Cursing, underage smoking, drinking, use of drugs, even more cursing, smut in upcoming chapters. There’s a lot and I might have left some out oops. Summary: You were polar opposites. He was royalty, you were a criminal. You hated him, he hated you. This mission was the last thing any of you wanted, but you had to make it work. But could you?

a/n: heii people. first of all i apologize that it took me this much time to finish this bunch of shit ahahahah. there is no excuse, only that im graduating and i am slowly but surely dying. figuratively. that was a shitty joke im sorry. anyways, thank you all who were patient enough to wait for this, i have added a ‘read more’ label and hopefully it will work for everyone!! 

“It was a scratch, no need to panic, Z.”

“Yeah but what if I died?”

Doyoung sighed, yet again, at least the thirteenth time during the past hour – the time you had been awake. He had been there the second you opened your chapped mouth and croaked for water. His eyes followed all your movements, cautiously, as if something could really go wrong by drinking water. Your fingers were shaky, yes, but the second he reached towards you to help holding the cup, you hissed at him, and he knew better than to stick to his decision. The room you were in was a lot like a hospital’s – clean, white sheets with even brighter walls and equipment. The first few moments you opened your eyes it blinded you almost, giving you a sting in your head and a wish that you should have stayed passed out.

“Die from a scratch?” he placed his head in his palm as he stared at the neon lines of your heartrate.

“I mean,” you murmured, fidgeting with the string attached under the skin of the back of your hand, “I did pass out from it.”

“I think you over-reacted,” he squinted at you then, “like you do most of the time.”

You would have thrown your hands up in frustration if it wasn’t for the things in your arms, quite literally tying you to the machines.

“It was mental, really,” he said then, voice lower and somewhat softer, “after you passed out and the other gang ran away it was just – crazy. A mess. The special forces arrived and when they saw that there was no one from the opposite team…they went full commando.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you struggled to put the pieces together. You shouldn’t have asked him to tell you what happened afterwards.

“They thought we set the whole thing up.”

He nodded, and his Adams apple bobbed, casting his glance away from your searching eyes and raked his bony fingers through his hair. The charcoal locks fell into his eyes in a soft mess.  

“They wouldn’t let us go, Z,” he said, his voice barely a whisper but still filled with hatred and a sort of calm, hidden fury. “You were…you were bleeding so much, and they kept on stalling and stalling and I- “he took a deep breath as his voice wavered.  You reached out for his hand and took it into your own, squeezing softly. He glanced up then, his eyes distant, hazy with the recent memories.

“Prince Jaemin refused to leave your side. Not even for one second,” he chuckled, and you let out an amused huff, “Yukhei almost blew his ass up but I think he was somewhat thankful.”  

You averted your gaze and let out a smile.

“Prince Mark and Renjun were the ones who talked some sense into those meatheads – honestly their captain was such a jerk,” Doyoung continued, irritation shadowing his tone. You just shrugged and poked the infusion in your wrist, letting the string attached to it wiggle.

“At least I’m alive,” you proclaimed, letting out something that sounded like a bittersweet chuckle. He just shook his head and exhaled gently.

“Taeyong was out of his mind when the special forces kept us there. I’ve never seen him this disoriented before.”

“Except when Jisung walked in on him when he – “

“No! Please don’t remind me.”

You grinned as Doyoung’s face twisted into a mix of terror and disgust. It only disappeared when a low, gentle knock resonated in the clean, white room. Both him and you glanced over at the figure entering slowly and quietly, and since your vision was still somewhat blurry, you squinted, trying to put a name to the face.

“Prince Jaemin,” Doyoung said, and emerging from the chair he was lounging in before, he bowed. For a second, panic took over the young prince’s features as he waved his hands in dismissal.

“No, please, I should be the one bowing.”

Glancing over to your sitting form on the bed, something like a small, careful smile made its way on his sharply shaped lips.

“Miss Z,” he said, with a voice sweet as sugar, with eyes glinting gently, “How are you feeling?”

You adjusted yourself and let the corner of your lips curve upwards.

“Better, Your Highness,” you inclined your head in thanks, but he just grinned, and lowered himself down next to you on the bed.

“I came in yesterday, but you weren’t awake. I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

“Your Highness it was-“

“Call me Jaemin.”

Doyoung smiled and so did you.

“Jaemin, it was my job. That’s what we were hired for.”

Jaemin just shook his head, as if he was trying to dismiss your words, as if they were no more than pure bullshit. Which they were. You knew it and Doyoung did too. You would have done it anyways – protecting younger ones, kids.

“My brothers and I are all thankful for you, but I’m sure you already know that,” the prince glanced at Doyoung then, who let out a grimace.

“Yeah, about that,” he drawled out, “Z, the King and Queen wanted to do some sort of fancy-ass ball in appreciation of us.”

You drew your eyebrows together at the sheer idiocy of the idea.

“We legit just stalled the idiots and beat them. And I got stabbed. Nothing great about it, it happens almost every time?”

“No, you were scratched. And yeah, I know it’s nothing special, but it seems to be something ceremonious for the Royal Family,” Doyoung then glanced at Jaemin perching on the edge of the bed, “No offense, Your Highness.”

Jaemin just waved, the graceful movement of the royal “I-don’t-give-a-fuck”.

“You’re right. We are overdramatic.”

“Great, one more thing in common with Z.”

Reaching out in Doyoung’s direction you grabbed a fistful of his hair and he let out a high-pitched whine. A crooked smile left your lips.

 It took you nine days, twelve hours and thirty-seven minutes to get out of the blindingly plain infirmary room. You were pretty sure you were held hostage for no apparent reason. Royals would do that kind of shit, wouldn’t they? You walked the ivory white hallways alone. The empty beauty of the walls and the handcrafted statues of previous rulers left an empty feeling in your heart. Glamorous it was, but where was the life? Your steps echoed in a painful sting and you thought of thorns made of diamond. Then his eyes flashed into your brain for splitting moment.

Hurrying your steps, you chased the thought away and continued to walk down through the glass-corridor.

What a continuous and tiering war was it, chasing someone’s gaze away from one’s brain. Feeling a familiar sort of burning sting in your brain, you thought of the younger princes, in an attempt to chase the pair of eyes from your thought. Poison, it was the worst kind of poison. During those five days you spent in the white room recovering, you had received regular visits from the young, and occasionally older princes as well as your own family. You weren’t sure if it was a crooked sort of display for gratitude, or they didn’t have anything better to do, but nonetheless, in some hidden part of your heart you were glad to see the youngers. Surprisingly, Doyoung did too.

His eyes lit up every time one of the kids came up, the same way it did when he was talking with Jeno and Jisung. Speaking of the two devils, they have also bonded with the royals in their ages. Often, they left your room together, with half-hearted apologies and excuses, but you didn’t mind. Having so many people at the same time in your room tended to be a little overwhelming at times. Out of the five days, you spent only one sleeping alone.

There was only one person, however, who did not visit you.

“Jaehyun is busy nowadays,” Johnny explained with something like guilt in his voice. You wanted to crack up.

“No-one is obligated to visit me,” you mused, tilting your head. A careful, unsure feeling swept through his face.

“Yet here we are,” murmured Yuta from a chair next to you, his voice dripping with sickeningly sweet honey. You wanted to vomit and laugh at the same time.  

Johnny decided to ignore the cold-livered tone of his brother and turned to you.

“We have a room for training. It’s filled with equipment, gym and a stash of weapons.”

You lifted your eyebrow.

“Well, for that cabinet you need someone to be there with you. Prince or trainer,” he added quickly. You didn’t talk about Jaehyun again.

A couple of hours after that, Jeno and Doyoung came barging into your room. Their arms were flailing around, and incomprehensible strings of words flew out of their mouths. You understood nothing, and the volume of their blabbering did not help either. So, you waited until they calmed down, their voices lowering to a buzz.

“The training room is a fucking heaven – “

“Language, Jeno.”

 The rest is history, and you walked the glorious, ivory covered corridor on your own. The clicking sound of your steps resonated and so did your thoughts – you had to turn left here, right? Smoothing your hair out of your face, you glanced around the corner. Empty, not even a soul, a servant or a guard rushing by you.

Hesitantly, you stepped towards the only door that was not made of finely carved oak, but instead cold, cruel metal. You could feel its iciness seeping through your skin and the hair rose on the nape of your neck. The promise of a new thing, you thought, should be exciting. Why am I so goddamn nervous then?

Twirling the key slipped into your palm by Johnny an hour ago, you stepped closer to the metal door. Your palms were sweating, and your breath was heavy, but you pushed the key into the keyhole, and before you could change your mind, turned it. The door made no sound as it opened. You checked your back again, then stepping through the threshold you pushed the piece of metal shut.

What you saw, amazed you to the point where you just let your jaw hang.

The room was huge – bigger than the whole of the bar back at home – and its walls filled, almost overflowed with all range of weapons. The steel shone with a molten golden colour in the early afternoon – in your eyes it was the soft tell-tale of all that youth, all those lives that had to be paid in battles.

Kicking your shoes off, you stepped onto the sea of tatamis on the floor, the familiarity of the dry but soft material under your feet washing over you. You weren’t even sure where to start – hell, you weren’t even sure if it was some kind of loyalty test, if there were hidden cameras somewhere else, watching your every move. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes running over every possible surface, memorizing the possible escaping routes –

Stop.

Stop stop stop stop.

You had had enough of paranoid thoughts, you were the bad guys, you were not supposed to feel the urge to run away and hide.

You were the ones who made others’ blood run cold, turn the other way.

Forcing a block onto your distracting thoughts, you lifted three throwing knives and five shuriken.

The weapons’ weights were light – you had to remind yourself there was something in your hand, so you wouldn’t forget about the familiarity of the icy feeling. Throwing them onto the ground you searched for a Straw Man, a figure you could aim at.

You found it on the other side of the room, about fifty steps away from where you were standing. Perfect. Lining up your body, you spun the first knife in your hand.

Then you threw.

You threw and threw and threw, up until there was nothing in your hand, and when you retrieved them you continued where you left off. You continued until that specific sore feeling returned to your body, with the familiar veil of exhaustion raping over your senses, and like you have always done; you did not listen. You spilled all the bitterness into your movements, you aimed at head, heart, liver and stomach, you aimed and retrieved and started again.

And when you thought you had enough – not caring how long it has already been, an hour? Two? Three? - you picked down three other weapons.

Swords and long-knives and axes, anything that got near your hands.

You battled, moved with the Straw Man until your head was nothing but an empty balloon, free of any thought, any pain, any memory.

Your throat burned, your muscles screamed, and you smiled. Through pain and tears, you smiled and stroke again and again.

The sun already set when someone spoke behind you.

“Who are you fighting against?”

You spun around, your mind foggy, mind hyper-alert, arms ready to throw the knife in your hand.

Then all the mist cleared when you looked into the familiar pair of eyes. The sweet colours of warm chocolate stared into your own, with nothing but the purest kind of curiosity.

Breathing heavily, you dropped the knife in your hand and plopped onto the light green tatami.

“Many people,” you answered, and inspected his movements from underneath your eyelashes as he walked closer. His cheeks were tainted a slight pink and his hair was ruffled and his clothes couldn’t look more casual - yet he still managed to look composed and put together. His hands were deep in his jeans’ pockets as he lowered himself down onto a chair on the edge of the tatami-sea. A safe distance from you and the weapons scattered in an organized mess, something like a satanic pentagram.  

“Many people?” he repeated, his velvet voice tinted with amusement. Huffing, you lowered your head and stared into your toes.

“There are many people who had wronged me and my family.”

Lifting one of his – most likely plucked – eyebrows, he chuckled.

“Are they still alive?”

Something close to laughter bubbled up in your throat but you fought it back down, keeping your expression icy. You just looked up at him from under your eyelashes and let out a smallest of crooked smiles.

“I barely think so.”

He grinned again and inspected the steel around you.

“I see you have found the training room,” his voice was low. Soft and careful, testing the seas. Relaxing yourself, you lowered onto the tatami, huffing in exhaustion. A little break won’t hurt. He watched you carefully, inspecting your movements and when your eyes met, you saw the faint colour paint his cheeks.

“Yeah,” trying to sound casual, you shrugged and leaned back on your hands. “I was given the key by – “

“I know,” he interrupted and pursing your lips, you fell silent. “I have questions,” he said then, his voice strong but his eyes somewhat vacant – unsure. Squirming on your butt, you reached for the closest weapon, and started cleaning it with the soft material of your shirt. Something to keep you distracted – something to keep you on earth.

“I’m listening.”

Clearing his throat, he leaned back on his chair.

“First off…I know we started on shaky waters, and I think that is mainly because I was an…arse.”

“An arse?”

Uncomfortably, he glanced sideways. Then nodded. Puzzled, you lifted an eyebrow.

“I’ve genuinely, honestly, never heard someone use that word before.”

He squinted his eyes, eyeing your face suspiciously.

“You seriously don’t know what ‘arse’ means?” his voice was dumbfounded, amused. You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, you were certain he was messing with you one way or another and you felt the need to grab that shiny shuriken by your ankle.

“No. Am I missing out on something?”

“It means…you know. Someone’s backside. But lower.”

“An ass, Your Majesty means?”

“…yeah.”

A loud, hoarse laugh erupted from your throat and you didn’t even try containing it. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt your lungs burning in need of oxygen. The sound echoed in the spacey, empty room and you were sure you saw him flinch before looking around uncomfortably.

“So, you’re saying you were an asshole,” your voice was strained as you wiped at your cheeks.

“Yes, but can I finish?”

“Go on, Your Majesty.”

Taking a breath, he inspected his sneakers.

“I – shouldn’t have drawn conclusions so easily and fast about you and your…” he hesitated, but you interrupted anyways.

“Family. They are my family.”

He looked at you. Really looked at you, with eyes wide and curious, glowing with something you couldn’t quite grab. You felt yourself tense under his inspecting gaze, heat rushing to your cheeks. What the fuck is going on? You were uncomfortable, uneasy, your fingers were itching with the need to grab something and fidget with it. It wasn’t the kind of gaze Taeyong would give you and Yukhei every time you came back from Gods know where, with clothes half burned, half torn off, with eyes glinting with everything but regret. It was a whole other level than when you perched on a rooftop with the icy graze of the wind through the relatively thick material of your shirt and jacket. You didn’t feel it on your skin, no. You felt it in your bones, your flesh, your soul.

Keep calm, Y/n. Keep calm. It’s your period coming. Your hormones are fucking with you.

You soothed your senses with the sweetness of the lie.

“Yes, family. I wanted to thank you. For saving my little brother.”

You were about to wave him off, the uneasy in your stomach tightening, but he held his hand up.

“No, I mean it. I know it’s your job and I know you’re most likely gonna say it was not that big of a deal, but I want to clarify the fact that you have been wounded while fighting,” he took a deep breath to continue but you interrupted anyways, quickly.

“I was gonna say that I accept white chocolate as a prize.”

You saw his breath getting caught in his throat, his ears flushing a sweet, bright shade of pink.

“Ah…ehm…white chocolate?”

You shrugged, “Yeah. Those are the best shit on the global market these days.”

Nodding, he cleared his throat again and inspecting the ground he asked you, “Why do you hate us so much?”

Your stomach coiled again, not sure whether it was the mention of the white chocolate that drove him to dive into deeper, personal matters, or the question had been on his mind for days. He certainly didn’t beat around the bush for long. You decided on the latter.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, Majesty.”

“You know exactly what I mean. The rest of the boys, your family, had warmed up to us, pretty much. Except maybe the other assassin, Doyoung. And the short one who always looks like he’s either about to slit someone’s throat or spill the darkest of your secrets – “

“Oh, Ten always knows the latest of the tea. Believe me, you don’t want to be there when he decides to spill it. It’s a catastrophe,” you tilted your head and sighed, a sort of endearing smile playing around on your lips.

“That’s not what I meant. Look, it is obvious that there is something that holds you back. I just…I don’t even know. I just wanted to know why.”

He grew quiet, his voice becoming unsure when you showed no reaction. He was swimming amongst dangerous tides, far deeper and darker than he could imagine. Your head was spinning, shards of pieces of memories cutting into your skull, you didn’t want to remember. No. He wasn’t ready for the truth, and neither were you. Neither were any one the Diamond Snake, and it was going to remain that way. So, brushing aside your honest answer, you replied with another.

“It isn’t entire the best feeling in the world, Your Majesty, when you are the only female working in this place, surrounded by men at all times. I hope you understand why I prefer to remain closed off.”

He didn’t believe you.

It was obvious, when sheer doubt took over his features. You didn’t question it though, didn’t push it.

Huffing out air, he nodded, strands of caramel brown hair falling into his eyes as he did so.

“Of course, I understand. I will try and find a solution, if you would like me too.” He stood up then, and before you could utter a word of objection, he bowed his head. His gaze avoided yours, and suddenly you felt like you have made the worst decision, not telling him the truth. So, you brushed your hand over the steel blade of a knife by your knees and pressed your mouth together.  

“Goodnight, Miss Z,” he murmured, and you snapped your head towards him when you heard the smooth, velvet voice.

You didn’t answer and the next sound you heard was the slam of the metal door. The tears came after that.

 Two weeks, every day, from morning until noon. That’s the amount of time you have spent in the training room, with other members visiting, sparring, getting beaten and then storming out of through the metal door, bruises already blooming on their skin.

You weren’t in the best mood.

You weren’t sure what was going on inside you, neither was your environment. After four days, Jeno came to you in the training room to let you know about the findings of the blood sample taken from under your nails and knives, and when you showed no signs of care when he did so, neither him or the rest of them bother to try and get you back on that one. You were more than thankful for that.

Yukhei, however, did mention that you were having the glorious week of your period – he did get his ass kicked a minute or so later – but it has been almost a month since you have gotten back from the ominous mission with the younger princes.

You saw more of them, and perhaps it warmed your heart. A little.

“Why did you become an assassin?” asked Jaemin one of the many afternoon’s with sweat running down along your brow. Gulping heavily, you squat down in front of a weapon stack, your back to him.

“There was no other offer of profession at the local employment office.”

He snorted behind you and after a couple of seconds you heard the low thumps of his steps on the tatami. He lowered himself next to you.

“Liar,” he smiled and watched you expectantly.

“Obviously. People like me don’t say the truth.”

Shaking his head, he laid down, and fixated his gaze on the wooden ceiling of the room. When he sensed you did nothing other than shifting your attention back onto sharpening a random knife you found, he patted the tatami next to himself.

“Come lie down with me. You have been training for four whole hours now.”

“No thanks.”

“I didn’t wait for an answer. It’s an order,” he flashed his teeth in a grin, and you whipped your head back at him. The young prince and you became closer to each other for sure, during the past month, to the extent where he begged you to treat him as a common boy, instead of “throwing his status in his face every time you talked.” He was younger than you for sure, but it never stopped him from biting back equally snarky comments at you every time you shot him off with your own.

Dropping the knife away from you, you slowly leaned back, just to stare at the ceiling.

“I swear to god, you need to start dating with pretty lil’ princesses so you can do shit like this under the stars,” you croaked.

He shrugged and quirked the edge of his lips.

“I sure would be a ladies’ men, wouldn’t I?”

You let out a low chuckle and nodded, your elbows poking into his ribs. Jaemin was for sure one of a kind, the type to try no matter what hard to make a person smile. Pushing the long sleeves of your training shirt – which you have received plenty of the past few weeks and you’re not entire sure whether you have been happier in your life – and relaxing your facial features, you closed your eyes.

“It wasn’t entirely a choice, Jaemin. Sometimes, I mean, hah, most of the time, people have not a lot of chance to do things. Sometimes they are forced to live with things that were not intentional. Situations, lives they were…pressured into.”

You inhaled, applying force on your eyelids, as if you could block your sight from memories that came out every time you closed your eyes and purred about your past.

Jaemin was already staring at you by the time you glanced sideways in his direction, with even eyebrows furrowed together, gaze hazy with thoughts. He was about to open his mouth, most likely to ask something, however, before he could utter a word, the loud bang of the metal door from behind you crashed all hopes he had to speak.

You didn’t even need to look back to know who just entered the room.

“Holy shit this place is DOPE!”

You would think you have already gotten used to Yukhei’s booming voice. You didn’t. And if you drew consequences from Jaemin’s jump and saucer-wide eyes, he did too, have a long way to go.

Jeno was walking behind Yukhei, with something like the shadow of a smile on his lips. When his gaze met yours, his eyes turned into half-moons as he chuckled to himself.

“What’s up guys?” with a low huff, you hoisted yourself up from the ground. Yukhei looked around the training room with an admiring glint in his eyes.

“Boss asked us to find you. Apparently, he has something to tell you. He’s with princes.”

You lifted an eyebrow as you shot a questioning look at Jaemin.

“Which ones?” you asked.

Yukhei shrugged as he continued to inspect the weapons stacked up all around the walls. “The ones that make you look like you have a spike shoved up in your ass.”

Jaemin let out a low, dramatic gasp and Jeno dropped his head into his palm.

“Ah,” was all you said as you picked up the leather jacket you dropped onto the floor after entering, and grabbing the pair of sneakers in your hands, you strode towards the door.

“Better place it back in then,” you threw back behind your shoulder before the metal door shut closed.

 You didn’t really bother knocking on Taeyong’s door before kicking it open barefooted. You were quite a sucker for entrances and to be honest, and it kind of ran in the family.

“I heard you needed my spiked-up ass!” you hollered into the room before throwing your shoes in the corner and hanging your jacket. Ambling into the suite’s living room, you found Taeyong, Doyoung and Kun with the three oldest princes, Johnny, Yuta and Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s and your eyes met for a single second, but you diverted your gaze just as fast.

You hated how you memorized the way he looked at that moment, with his soft his hair looking perfect even though you were completely sure he had not brushed it and you really hated that you caught the way his ears were tinted a slight shade of pink.

Suddenly you regretted that the words “spiked-up ass” ever left your mouth.

Taeyong covered his mouth before he let out a tiny cough - you were more than sure of the fact that he had a shit-eating grin on his face – and Doyoung let out an obvious eyeroll.

“Well now that you are here,” began Kun, “we can get down to it.”

“Get to what?” you quipped, and massaging your left wrist, you took a seat on one of the cream coloured sofas by the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Your gaze raked over the three princes. Johnny sat on a dark rose-coloured plush sofa, with his two brothers perching on the arms of it. You didn’t look them directly in the eyes, no. You didn’t dare, not after you have seen the flash of bare emotion in Prince Jaehyun’s eyes.

Your mind kept repeating the minutes, hours he had spent watching you in the training room during those two weeks. You didn’t talk, didn’t make eye-contact. Just like then when you entered the room, you avoided his gaze, the sheer curiosity shimmering in those orbs.

He didn’t bother you.

Didn’t say a word, didn’t make a noise, and in some distant part of your mind, you were certain he hardly breathed. Some days, you saw the edge of a black notebook poking out of his pocket. You decided not to pay any special attention to it. Or to him, for that.

“Doyoung have told you a couple of weeks ago that there will be a dinner for us, in thanks to dealing with the…problems that came up with the young princes.” You nodded as you listened to Kun’s soft voice. He stood behind Taeyong, looking at you and the three princes with eyes glinting in an odd way.

Frowning, you straightened your back.

“But that’s not it, is it?” your voice was cautious, you felt like there was an elephant in the room, and everyone knew about it except for you. However, when you glanced at Doyoung you saw a puzzled look taking over his features, unlike Taeyong, who silently inspected the tip of his shoes, slightly faded crimson hair falling onto his forehead.

Doyoung’s and your eyes met. Kun cleared his throat before he continued.

“And additionally, we have found a trail to who might be behind the attacks.”

You nodded, remembering Jeno coming into the training room the tell you before you chased him away.

“We were able to trace it back to Mr. Kim.”

A beat of silence.

“There is like one million Mr. Kims you dipshit,” Doyoung drawled and Taeyong and you choked on your laughter. Kun shot a look at the raven-haired assassin who then quickly rearranged his facial expressions and instead glared on the flower - tapestry.

Johnny cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair.

“Kim Seokjin is a high-ranked official and advisor, working for the Crown,” he said matter-of-factly, keeping his gaze on you and the others. “He has been through more battles than me and my brothers combined, and he used to be believed one of the most loyal objects for my father and mother.”

“Seems like he’s gone rogue,” Taeyong marvelled and Jaehyun nodded.

“We have tried to look into his activities for the past couple of months, but we have found nothing,” Jaehyun continued and glanced at Taeyong, carefully avoiding your gaze. “We need your hacker’s help.”

Taeyong inclined his head and reached for the crumpled cigarette pack lying on the crystal-clear glass coffee-table.

“Z,” he spoke up, his voice gravelled and snapping your head back, you caught the pack he threw at you. Your eyes met for a couple of seconds and that was when you saw it; that glint that appeared almost every time when something was about to come up. Something that you might not take well.

The cigarette pack he threw at you was a warning, then.

“Is there something else?” Doyoung asked, obviously bored out of his mind. He tended to do that a lot when something was not revolving around him.

“Yes, there is,” Johnny admitted before starting off. He didn’t look at you, he kept on staring at the carpet in front of himself. Unlikely of an eldest royal who is used to speak in front of and to people on a regular basis. “He will most likely be present for the dinner organized for the Diamond Snake. Which can mean two things in this case; first of all, he was one of the few officials who had strongly disagreed concerning the…hiring of your gang. If he decides to come to the gathering – “

“Then he wants to eliminate us,” you ventured, cutting him off. Yuta’s head snapped towards you in warning, but ignoring him, you leaned forward with eyes fixated on lighting the cigarette dangling from your mouth.

“That’s right. We know a couple of things already, for example the fact that he finds beautiful woman, a good drink and gold irresistible,” explained Johnny, and Doyoung eyed the prince’s features cautiously. Taeyong’s gaze remained on your face, which you carefully kept stone cold neutral.

Everyone went quiet and you inhaled the smoke, relished in the soft sting, the familiar smell. You felt another pair of eyes on you, molten caramel, the smoothing rays of the afternoon sun. You avoided that too.

Your brain caught up on the prince’s thinking, and it did not take long for you to figure out what they wanted to ask from you, why Taeyong was so goddamn nervous and why he lit one cigarette after another. Doyoung was still in the dark.

“Your Majesties,” Taeyong croaked then, exhaling a large amount of smoke which he kept inside for way too long. “I will talk about you request with Z alone.” he gave the princes a half-hearted incline of his head.

Kun nodded slowly.

“It is best if we talk about it amongst ourselves,” he agreed and Doyoung huffed.

“Talk about what? Can someone just tell me what’s going on?!”

You rose before drawling, “they want to whore me out to Mr. Kim,” with eyes as dead as your voice. You didn’t see the realization and disgust flash in Doyoung’s eyes for you rose from your seat, your gaze dead set on the oldest prince.

Taeyong then sprung up and with a single movement, stood in your way. Without your heels on you he was taller than usual, and he did not seem inclined to let you go. Kun moved from behind the sofa and with a tiny but respectful bow of the head ushered the princes out.

You didn’t see the look in Jaehyun’s eyes before the door slam shut behind his back.

And then you let it all out.

“What the fuck did you think, Tae?! Huh?!” your voice rose dangerously, and with a hand, pushed Taeyong in the chest who staggered a single step back. He lifted his arms in defence, but you paid no attention as you threw the half-burned cigarette into the ashtray.

“Z, listen to me – “

“Fuck about listening to anyone in this goddamned shithole, we were hired to gather information, to figure out who is behind all this shit, kill that bastard and then move the fuck along. I’m not going to play their fucking games, Tae!” you snarled but you felt the suffocating veil of desperation and fear creep up on your senses.

“Z, they don’t want to – “

You choked out a sob and grabbing the front of his black t-shirt you pulled him close.

“We talked about this. I told you I will never do anything like that again, I told you I told you I told you,” your voice hitched, lowered from a vicious hiss down into a weak whisper. Kun slid out of the room and closed the door behind him quietly. Taeyong put a hand on the back of your head, smoothing your hair, your back. He didn’t say anything, he held you and you let the first tear fall. Torn pieces of memories zipped through your mind and you tightened your grip on his shirt, held onto it like a lifeline.

“They will not whore you out, Z. They wanted to, but I told them they shouldn’t expect you to do that.” He murmured as his hand trailed through your locks.

“Would the Royals go that far?” Doyoung piped up as he laid down on the couch, placing his feet on the arm rest.

“Take your shoes off, Doyoung,” Taeyong deadpanned and the assassin threw his shoes off into the corner of the room with a dramatic sigh. You straightened up and wiped your glistening cheeks with the back of your shaking hand.

“Sorry for reacting like that,” you grumbled and Taeyong rustled your head with a sigh.

“I didn’t expect anything else.”

“Are you saying I’m a crybaby?” you murmured and Taeyong let out a low laugh.

“You should see your face every time someone says they want to use the fact that you’re a woman.”

Fuming, you threw yourself into the chair in which Johnny was sitting before. Taeyong pushed Doyoung’s legs away and sat down, posture slightly stiff. Wiping your nose into the sleeves of your shirt you pulled your knees close to your chest.

“So, what did the princes want me to do if not using me?” you asked, placing your chin on your arms.

“They do want to use you in a certain way, but,” he held his finger up before you could utter a word. You closed your mouth. “They wouldn’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. You see, Seokjin has no idea how you look like. We didn’t show ourselves in front of generals or officials, only the princes and the servants who were there. That means – “

“I will pretend someone I’m not,” you caught up and Taeyong nodded. “What is the information we need to gather from him?”

“We need to make sure that Seokjin is in relation with that gang who attacked us or the Black Spade.”

“And how the hell am I gonna do that? I’m not a spy and I have no clue how to act like a fucking lady!” you threw your arms up in the air and Doyoung sighed.

“We been knew.”

Your head snapped towards him and your hand reached for the nearest object you could throw at him, the diamond ashtray, but Taeyong snatched it from your hand before you could hurl it at Doyoung’s head.

“The princes offered to help you.”

“All of them?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Probably. They will be in the Grand Ballroom tomorrow at ten in the evening. You will meet them there.” Taeyong said then and you let out an exasperated sigh. Guess, you were gonna have to learn the waltz.

 It took Winwin 17 whole minutes to convince not to go in your training tunic, but instead something more comfortable and socially (and royally) acceptable.

“Listen, Z, you need to get something like a shirt, or I don’t know, not that black fucking bodysuit… No, no absolutely fucking not, Z, put the stilettos back.”

You groaned as you threw the pair of shoes at Winwin, who caught them and chucked them on your bed.

“I don’t want to go around pretending I’m a cute little lady who does pretty bows, and smiles like a brainless idiot,” you protested, placing your hands on your hips. You were still in underwear and you were ready to throw the hacker out of your room, but he insisted on not making a fool out of you. Pity. Would have been a nice warm-up.

“Z, you’re just gonna learn the basic behaviour when you’re around high-class people, come on…No oh dear god put that knife back, girl you’re going to walk with fucking books on your head, Jesus everloving Christ,” Winwin raked through his blond hair and with a quick movement put it in a manbun.

“Yeah but we always need to be ready. Just a small one?” you held up a pocket-knife, and widening your eyes you put on your best puppy-face.

Winwin sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands.

‘I’m gonna call Jisung – “

“He’s playing Fortnite,” you quipped, and he raised his eyebrows.

“At nine in the morning? He woke up this early?”

“Nah. He just didn’t go to sleep.”

“Taeyong’s gonna gut him,” he pondered, and you shrugged. Giving in, you reached for the only clean white shirt you had along with a soft, flary pair of pants. You were about to reach for the high-heels but Winwin grabbed your arm in an attempt to stop you.

“Come on, I’m so fucking short,” you whined, shaking your arm out of his.

“You’re gonna be tripping and falling, do you really want to make a fool out of yourself like that?” he retorted, and you gave in after a second of thinking. Damn him and his rational thinking. Huffing, you pulled on a pair of sneakers, making as much fuss and noise while doing so as possible. You knew that the calm, forever-collected hacker won’t give a single shit about it, you can also jump out the window to get to the meeting faster – he would just shrug and text about it to the groupchat, to let the others know.

His story is a quirky one, filled with broken hearts, neon-screens and cold slices of pizzas.

It was Doyoung who recruited him. They met in jail, both of them waiting for their friends to bail him out – only Winwin had no one he could really rely on. It was you who went to grab Doyoung, back when you were 18.

Both the receptionist and the guard were corrupted by the already slowly building empire of the Diamond Snake. It took no convincing and a lot of money and Doyoung was out. But he didn’t wasn’t to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and you glared at him from behind your sunglasses, its size reminding him of a fly’s eyes. There was a faint bruise on the corner of your lips, and he knew you were frowning behind the darkened glasses. “There is someone,” with a quick movement he inclined his head in the direction of his cell, “I think we should get him out as well. I talked with him. He will be of use, I promise.”

“You know what Tae thinks about picking people up.” you murmured. Shooting a hesitant look towards the guard who started to get impatient, you licked your lips quick and then whispered, “alright I’ll get him out. But you go into the car now. Yukhei is already there, behind the building.”

Without another look, you shoved him towards the door before fixing your glasses and reaching for another stack of money.

A blackeye and Winwin’s dumbfounded expression richer, both of you blasted out of the jail and hurried towards the getaway car. Doyoung snorted as he examined your blackeye and murmured, “well seems like money wasn’t enough.”

For some unknown reason, the guard is fired the next day.

 “You are still that troublemaker you were when I first met you,” Winwin’s deep voice mutters before sinking down on the bed. “It’s hard to imagine you doing courtesies and waltz around the room like some goddamn princess.”

“What are you talking about?” straightening up from fixing your shoelaces you place your hands on your waist. “I am the fucking Queen, not the flimsy princess.”

He let out a chuckle and ushered you towards the door.

“Hurry up, you’re already late. They might punish you by wearing lacey dresses with corsets.”

You pouted.

“Lace is hot but only in the bedroom.”

You proceeded to avoid the shoes he hurled at your head before ducking out of the room, the remains of your laughter echoing in the empty hallways.

 You weren’t exactly sure what to expect when you stepped in, maybe a teacher with spectacles and way-too-tight corset, maybe a lady-in-waiting or even the Queen herself.

What you didn’t expect was eight princes, four out of them shrieking and hooting…spanking each other? You halted for a second, waiting for your brain to process the view of Prince Yuta throwing Prince Renjun over his shoulder with a victorious holler. Johnny, the only reasonable out of all of them, was unfortunately missing and suddenly you felt like you have made the worst possible decision on agreeing to learn etiquette with them.

You cleared your throat and the room went still as death.

Renjun peeked over in your direction from Yuta’s shoulder, Donghyuck slowly removed his hand from Mark’s butt, Jaemin smoothed down Jungwoo’s hair and Jaehyun let go of Chenle’s collar.

“I’m…sorry for being…” a glance down at your phone, “two minutes and thirty-four seconds late.”

Jaehyun stood straight up and smoothing his caramel hair back, let out a crooked smile, one that showed his dimples off discreetly.

“It’s – it’s alright. Please take a seat,” he said and Jungwoo whipped out a chair out from somewhere behind them and spun it right in front of you.

Feeling the tiny bubble of nervousness grow in your stomach, you lowered yourself on the chair and just to show you’re not as barbaric as is might show occasionally, you crossed your legs. As you let your eyes scan over the princes standing in a half circle in front of you, you gave a silent thanks to Winwin for not letting you out in high heels and an edgy outfit. Most of the princes in front of you were wearing branded hoodies and shirts with jeans or sweatpants and sneakers. Were they even allowed to do that?

Under the inspecting gazes of the royals suddenly you became aware of the fact that you left your hair in a hazy ponytail with a minimal amount of makeup.

“You might wonder why we are your teachers instead of a chaperone of a sort,” Yuta started with a steely gaze and you straightened your back, “you see, I don’t know what kind of plan you’re cooking for the gala in honour of you and your gang, but no one can be aware of that. So, we will be looking after your education in basic royal etiquette,” he announced before giving a mocking bow, and you swore you saw Jungwoo roll his eyes.

“You make it sound so serious,” the younger prince said, “we were going to help her out anyways.”

“What about the guys? Like Yukhei?” Chenle quipped in and you let out a small smile.

“We already told them the basic stuff,” Mark sighed, “plus people don’t pay attention to men. The spotlight is on…” he made a grand sort of hand motion in your direction, “the ladies at all times. Especially the ones who seem like they want to stab someone in the throat,” he turned to you with a deadpanned expression and murmured, “you might want to work on that general expression of yours Miss.”

Yuta snorted and looked over at Mark.

“She has the ultimate resting bitch face in case you haven’t noticed it.”

“Something you guys have in common,” grunted Renjun from beside Yuta and the older turned to him with a shocked expression but before he could retort anything, Jaehyun interrupted.

“How about we start, we don’t have much time. Five days, brothers. Focus.” His sweet baritone washed over you and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

Jungwoo nodded and cracked his knuckles.

“Lesson one, Miss Z…”

“Please just call me Z,” you interrupted quickly, and he inclined his head.

“Lesson one will be sitting. Crossing legs is not okay if you are sitting in front of people.”

You quickly uncrossed your legs and listened to his instructions and tried not to get distracted with the softness of his voice.

“Imagine your knees are being glued together,” he started, and you brought your knees together, slightly frowning at the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach, “and that some old nasty perverted paparazzi is trying to have a shot of under your skirt.”

“A shot of what?!” you exclaimed, and it was Jaemin’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Tilt them a little, like this,” he bent his knees as if he was sitting and turned them to the right. You imitated, and they nodded in satisfaction.

And then you learned how to hold a teacup and a wineglass, you learned how to get out of a car and how to hide your cleavage when bending down. You greet people you know with a kiss on the cheek or a firm handshake and you hold your handbag in front of you at all times, in your hand.

The princes made an excellent job at teaching you – even though Yuta snapped at you multiple times and Chenle let out that laugh with a frequency higher than Yukhei’s. Winwin wasn’t wrong, you did indeed need to walk with a bunch of encyclopaedias on your head – and when you did, you silently thanked yourself all those gym sessions with Yukhei because if it wasn’t for them you would have most likely broke your neck under the weight of the books.

“You need to imagine that your spine is a cord,” explained Jungwoo as he rolled his sleeves up, “that cord is your spine – “

“And you straighten the fuck out of it,” finished Yuta.

A beat of silence.

“Why the fuck do you need to swear in every single one of your sentences?” Jaehyun’s voice resonated something like an ever-lasting suffer, with his eyebrows shot up until his hairline. From the corner of your eyes you saw Renjun silently bury his face into his hand.

“Who are you to talk, you just said ‘fuck’!” Yuta retorted before squinting his eyes towards his younger brother.

You let the bare thought of smile playing around the corner of your lips.

“I didn’t know princes were allowed to swear,” you chuckled carefully so the encyclopaedia placed on the crown of your head won’t fall. Yuta shrugged and placed his chin on the top of his hand – which would have been a sweet gesture if he wasn’t looking like he wished you were dead at all times.

“The forbidden fruit is the sweetest,” was all he said with a sort of melancholy in his voice. You glanced at your feet and took a deep breath.

“So, straighten the fuck out of the cord, right?” you forced a smile and Yuta hid a grin.

With aching slowness, you lifted yourself up from the chair, cautious of the books atop your head. Spreading your arms, you searched for your balance, bit your lip in concentration.

“You’re doing great,” murmured Jungwoo, his voice sweet yet distant, reminding you of an early summer breeze. You took a step, the books stable. The princes remained silent, watching you carefully, not daring to disturb the concentration on your features. After five steps you dared to open one of your eyes. Your shoes made no noise on the polished marble as you walked agonizingly slowly towards the end of the room – touch the wall, girl. Touch the wall. After another five steps you arrived next to Jaehyun – the prince standing farthest away from you, barely participating in the teaching.

Throughout the firing instructions and shouts to get you to learn the proper etiquette, he stood and observed – occasionally letting out a huff of amusement.

You felt his gaze on you during the two hours you have spent there, and it took every fibre of your being not to let heat rush to your cheeks. He has gotten the worst out of you, reminding you of adolescent years, broken hearts and flushing cheeks from the tiniest of touches. Suddenly the books on your head became heavier and you became even more alert of the gazes that followed and inspected your every movement.

He only came close to you once the princes decided it would be a good idea to be done for that day. His steps were silent, cautious as he sauntered closer to you as you placed the last book off your head.

“There is something I haven’t quite be able to stop wondering about,” he said, his voice as casual as it could get. Arching one of your eyebrows you encouraged him to keep talking. “Doyoung said that it might take you some time to incline to follow the proposal from us about Kim Seokjin – “he corrected himself rapidly when he saw a warning glint in your eyes, “not that you had a lot of chance to do anything else. I’m – sorry about that.”

“Don’t beat around the bush with me, Prince,” you purred, and you saw his Adams apple bob for a second.

“No, I was just wondering what the reason for that quick acceptance was. I would have completely understood if you needed more time like a week or something, but…I’m not sure I can figure this one.”

His voice lowered into a murmur and you cocked your head to the side, for some reason not really taken aback by his questions.

“You see, women don’t have that sheer brutality when it comes to violence. We aren’t inclined to go head first into situations,” you found Jaehyun searching your face while you talked, and you forced yourself not to flinch or retreat a step. You smoothed the edge of your nails on the skin of your wrist. “But we are good at other things, things that are underestimated by males who have not met with one of us. Who have not experienced our ways of handling situations. Instead of testosterone and bruised knuckles we have cunning, we have the strings to the puppets in the games and – “you brought your fingernails away from your wrist and lifted it, moving it towards his chest, stopping only a millimetre away from the fine material of his sweatshirt.

You heard him suck in a breath and for a second you let yourself relish in his reaction. “- and we have the power of seduction,” you continued, lowering your hand, “a power which is just as fun as dangerous to play with. It’s sort of a game, prince, with rules that you need to be stuck to. Like glue. Or else the cost is your life,” you let out a shaky breath and the echo of a sad smile, “seduce or be seduced, Jaehyun.”

The similar rhythm of your phone’s buzz shook you out of your reverie from the direction of Yuta’s hand, signalling the arrival of a text message. (The prince snatched it from your hand before you could place it on the ground somewhere in the corner of the large room, and to your dismay he kept it in his lap throughout the lesson.)

Jaehyun tilted his head to the side as his eyes narrowed at you. His face was void of any visible emotion other than a single dimple that played on the edge of his lips.

“You got a message from… Winnie The Pooh?” his voice changed from exasperated to confused as he glanced at your back turned to him. You pushed down the urge to spin on your heels and grab it from his hands. Containing your instincts, you cleared your throat.

“Yes. His name is Winwin. Our hacker,” your voice was barely above a whisper and slowly took a one-eighty turn. Yuta pouted dramatically and nodded.

“The blond with the manbun?” he asked, and you blinked slowly.

“Yeah.”

You snatched the phone with a quick movement and left the room with quick steps after he let out something similar to a genuine smile.

 “We need to create a fake identity for you,” said Taeil the third day you arrived back into Taeyong’s room which has grown itself out to be a sort of common lounge for the Snakes.

“Yeah?” you huffed as you dumped your high heels on the burgundy carpet and reached down to massage your aching heel. To hell with the waltz. Grabbing a scrunchie that perhaps belonged to Winwin you hastily tied your hair up and sat down across from him.

“What do you have in mind?”

He nodded as he pulled out his usual notebook, the one he used every time when he planned something.

“Yesterday after your training I talked with Prince Johnny and asked about the families that are well known in the castle and in the circles of the high-status people,” he opened the notebook on a page filled with his messy but still somewhat organized handwriting. You leaned closer as he continued, “there is an orphan heiress of a nearby territory, she never gets out of her villa and she doesn’t care at all what’s going on inside. She hasn’t stirred any drama and people acknowledge her enough to be aware of who she is and all that.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you looked at him.

“Orphan?”

“Yes. The family was attacked one night, murdered in cold blood during their dinner. The murderers slit Lord Jung’s throat and stabbed his wife but for some unknown reason they left their daughter alone. Her name is Jisoo.”

“And I’m going to be Jisoo.”

He nodded with a solemn look on his face, “you are going to be Miss Jung Jisoo.”

Lifting your chin, you remembered the lesson about presenting grace and patience, about displaying your full interest concerning a matter. You placed your hands folded lightly into your lap and angled your paralleled knees towards Taeil.

“Tell me more.”

 Jaehyun reached over to Johnny to angle back his crooked tie.

“You think she will do well?” the older prince levelled his voice down, so the maids rushing around them with oversized buckets of flowers won’t hear a thing. Jaehyun saw flashes of that young woman with encyclopaedias on her head and hellfire in her eyes. He let out the faintest smile.

Johnny sighed, “We taught her everything she needs to know,” as he adjusted his navy suit over the black turtleneck shirt. Jaehyun pursed his lips, his eyes glued to an arrangement of flowers in the corner, by a Corinth marble statue.

“I don’t know, she seems pretty stubborn. She was.”

Johnny cut him a glance.

“Wouldn’t you know that, brother,” he drawled, a new kind of amusement glinting in his eyes. Jaehyun fought the urge to cringe and instead pluck a flower from a bucket which passed him, the maid almost invisible behind the gigantic arrangement.

“This ball will be something else,” he murmured to himself, “I have a feeling that all this decoration adds the feeling of…feeding the pig before cutting it down. Don’t you think?”

Johnny was silent for a second.

“Listen…even though we taught her the basic etiquette and even though there will be heavy security…they are a gang. They thrive on illegal stuff and violence and I’m just not entirely sure whether all this was a good idea.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed as he listened to his brother.

“You were the one holding us together with your positivity. Don’t start having doubts now or I swear to God – “

Johnny cut in before he could finish, “No, it isn’t like that. What I’m saying is…” his voice dropped down, barely audible over the murmurs and buzzing of the servants, “they are not accustomed to this life. Who knows whether there will be trigger that makes them turn against us?” Shaking his head, he smoothed the hair out of his eyes.

“I think it will be alright,” Jaehyun muttered, “if they were to turn against us, they would have already done it. Hopefully the night will go smoothly.”

  “For the fifth time, take that thing out of my hair it makes me look like a fucking garden,” you pleaded as you reached for the flower crown arranged into a pink disaster on top of your head. It has been one and a half hour since they bathed you – they were in there with you and they scrubbed your everything even though it was supposed to be a relaxing bath. You were everything but relaxed – before they placed you in front of a wide, rose gold vanity.  

“Listen young lady, we were ordered to make your appearance appropriate and fitting for the theme of the dinner.”

The woman, Ms Seol, who was responsible for your look, was a bitch. Her white hair was filled with pearls and other ornaments and she was wearing a disturbing amount of makeup to hide her wrinkles. And that enormous hooked nose. Its sole purpose was to lure you into punching her square in the face. On top of that she kept ordering you around and considering the fact that she had no clue who you actually were and the industrial number of maids coming in and out of the room they took you – you had no chance of getting out of here without looking like a complete idiot. You regretted all your decisions not only about agreeing to play a role but about accepting the proposal of the Royal Family.

Take a deep breath every time you feel like screaming, said Kun in the morning before you were taken to literal Hell, and count to ten.

Don’t lose your temper, Z.

Don’t lose it.

You forced a glittering smile.

“Ma’am,” you mused with a voice filled with glazing honey and venom, “I was invited to this dinner because of my status and looks, and the palace hired you to strengthen the latter – not to destroy its complete existence.”

She blinked twice, and you remembered Prince Renjun’s words: “You need to speak with authority with people whose status’ are lower than yours, even though you’re lying. Believe what you are saying yourself, place yourself into that situation and the others will believe it, too.”

You inhaled deeply, not breaking eye contact with Ms Seol and with renewed authority and pride in your words you said, “I am planning to get highly intoxicated on the alcoholic beverages offered tonight and finding a fairly handsome bachelor who will later blow my back out for I will be too irresistible for him and his lower, manly body parts,” you flashed a thousand-watt smile, “if you know what I mean.”

Her face contorted from surprise to contempt then into complete disgust all the while looking at you, sporting a soft pink bathrobe and a grin.

You flipped your hair above your shoulders and opened your mouth to add to her horror but the monotone and yet still cheerful voice of someone stopped you.

“My my, I knew the lady was trouble but what I just heard completely succeeded my expectations,” the maids in the room parted to give space to the newcomer, an ebony haired beauty with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “what a warm welcome.”

Her hand was resting on a black suitcase and a leather sport bag, her companion – all four female – stood behind her in suits and portable dress carriers packed with gowns hidden in their bags.

The woman pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead and flashed you a grin.  

“Miss Jung,” she pronounced the word with an enough amount of sarcasm for you to know she was aware of your secret and had an exact idea on who you actually were, “I am you stylist. Your actual stylist.”

She levelled her gaze onto Ms. Seol with enough contempt to discourage the woman in every way – you shivered.

“Your services are no longer needed Ma’am, and neither is the rest of the staff.”

It took them a couple of seconds and a few fuelled glances to be outside the door.

Placing your knee on the bejewelled and soft armchair, you turned around to face your saviour of some sort. Her hair fell down on her back in soft curls and her lips were tainted devil red. She was the only one wearing pants with matching blazer and a white t-shirt. The most mesmerizing thing about her, though, was her darker complexion - Her honey skin shone in the daylight and the golden eyeshadow brightened the glow in her eyes.

“My name is Tan, pleased to meet you, assassin.”

You tilted your head with an equally wide grin.

“The honour is mine, stylist,” standing up, you let her run her eyes over your body and shape and you felt an odd satisfaction when she nodded her head.

“I wasn’t entire sure about your complexion. It’s not like I can find a proper picture of you on the internet,” she clicked her tongue and shrug her blazer off, “would you feel uncomfortable if you were naked in front of us?”

You arched an eyebrow. She smiled.

“For research purposes.”

Your let out a low snicker before undoing your robe and letting it fall to the ground, revealing your naked figure.

“Perfect,” was all she said before turning to her companion and exchanged a few words in a language unfamiliar to you. The female staff unzipped a couple of bags before pushing the wheeled carrier towards Tan.

“I was hired by Johnny,” she said as she looked through the dresses hung up, “he had a feeling that his parents will give you the stylist which will cause the most headache,” she clicked her tongue again with distaste, “she obviously had no taste.”

You picked up the robe before placing it on your shoulders.

“You know His Majesty well?”

She snorted before glancing at you, “He’s my childhood best friend. I was engaged to him, but you see,” she flicked her wrist towards you and two of the females gestured for you to sit back down, “I fell in love with a girl.”

Your eyebrows arched up again as you stared at her from the reflection of the vanity. If she was engaged to the eldest prince, then she must herself be royal as well. Tilting your head to the side you let the two females undo your previous, disastrous hairdo and each of them grabbing a hairbrush and an ironer, started to straighten your hair.

“I know what you are thinking,” Tan said as she unzipped a bag completely but the dress in it remained hidden from you. “I was only 16.”

Her voice remained neutral, levelled out. Your nose crinkled as the burning heat of the iron came a bit too close.

“Something happened,” you murmured, your own voice careful, and your eyes met in the reflection. She knew you weren’t asking, and her lips curled up in a sad smile.

“It didn’t quite work out between me and her eventually,” her voice remained emotionless and you weren’t sure whether that was true or not, but you kept yourself from pushing her. It was not your place to know. And you just met.

“16 is an age when changes happen,” you said instead and looking at yourself in the mirror, you got lost in your own reflection for a second. “Usually they are not for the best.”

She didn’t look at you, instead she pulled out a device and plugging it into the nearest connector she turned it on. Her nails were tainted red and you noticed that her bottom lip was slightly plusher than the top.

“What happened to you?”

Her question took you by surprise and you flinched. The burning iron missed the skin of your ear by only a couple of millimetres. When you looked back up, your gaze met with hers. You teared your eyes away from hers and stared into your own instead.

“I fell in love with the wrong person.”

Your voice was so low you thought the wind carried it away, out through the window into the sky. To be lost and forgotten. But it wasn’t.

“It cost you something, didn’t it?” her voice was soft but not weak and you could only nod. When she shivered, it was like she came out of something like a trauma before she clapped her hands.

“Us girls, we need to stick together and help each other,” her voice was lively now but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “too bad Ms. Seol wasn’t able to comprehend that.”

You chuckled, and she turned to the remaining two of her staff and instructed them in that foreign language she used before. Your skin tingled, you felt like she knew every fibre of yours, even though it has been less than half an hour since she stepped into the suite.

“Is her hair done?” she turned to you shortly after. The females behind you stepped back and nodded. Tan lowered herself onto the vanity table and crossing your legs you stared up at her.

“Here is what I know,” her voice was calm, calculating, and a shiver of exhilaration ran down your spine, “I know that you are the most wanted assassin in the country. I know that you prefer to be called Z. I know that you were hired by the Royal Family to find and eliminate the threat imposed on their lives and I know that this dinner and ball will be a mission of yours.”

You didn’t let any emotion show on your face and she cocked her head to the side before she continued.

“I further know that in this ball your mission is to seduce Kim Seokjin, the universe’s greatest narcissist and jerk and bachelor, however what I don’t know is…” she stared into your eyes and you let her. “What I don’t know if it is your intention to destroy him.”

Your mouth curled into a devilish grin and so did hers.

“Really, it depends. I was told to get the information out of him but – I was not prohibited to have my own fun,” Tan nodded.

“What do you know about him?”

“Enough,” you shrugged, “I know that he loves women and that he is influential enough to be able to pull the strings of terror against the Royal Family.”

Tan smoothed her hair behind her ear, and she moved over to the bag in which, you guessed, was your dress.

“He likes champagne and gold as well,” she purred and pulled the zipper down and jaw dropped as she revealed the dress.

The Dress.

It was the most beautiful piece of clothing you have ever seen, you felt your eyes physically stuck the material. It was everything you were not and everything you wanted to be and you adored it. Its colour was a light shade of gold, the slightly transparent material adorned with rains of diamonds. The top was sleeveless, and the décolletage ran down to the middle of your stomach in a straight, piercing v-line, showing enough skin to make men wild. The bottom part was flowy and when you squinted to see better you noticed that it was cut up on both sides.

“I am going to turn you into everything he would ever wish for,” mused Tan and you huffed in satisfaction, “you will become the Women and the Gold and the Champagne of his life and you will succeed in your mission.”

Words got stuck in your throat as you glanced at her and you noticed that ever consuming fire, the fury raging in her orbs.

Revenge.

She wanted revenge for something.

And that is what you will have, not only in the name of the Royal Family, but in anyone’s who was ever wronged by that man.

So, you smiled with a fire burning with equal heat to hers and said, “Let’s turn this place upside down.”

 Prince Jaehyun had absolutely no clue who half of the people in the Grand Ballroom were. It could be reprimanded, yes, for he is a prince and he is expected to know and greet all the nobles and influential who had come to the dinner and ball.

Unsuspecting.

Of what was about to happen, of who they are in the same room with, of the people they innocently engage into conversations with, thinking that ‘oh that young man with a half-moon eye laugh and perfect manners must be a distant relative of the Royal Family’. How sweet.

As he nursed his tall glass of champagne, Jaehyun kept himself as distanced as possible from the guests, who were hopefully occupied with the sweet manners of Jungwoo and the small talks of Johnny. Behind him, carefully arranged flowers decorated the soft cream coloured, marble columns that towered over the people, holding the cupola shaped ceiling.

To his right, at the very front of the room, lay the grand staircase which led in the guests through the double-winged wooden doors.

Reaching behind himself, Jaehyun plucked a piece of grape and plopped it into his champagne.

“That was gross,” drawled a voice from behind and the prince turned with a slow, graceful movement. Half hidden in the shadows the master spy, Ten, glared back at him. “Oh, Ten always knows the latest of the tea. Believe me, you don’t want to be there when he decides to spill it. It’s a catastrophe”. Your words floated into his mind in a soft sweet whisper and he suddenly remembered the power hidden behind those words. Your words. The spy did not have his eyes covered by a messy fringe like Jaehyun saw most of the times, but instead it was elegantly gelled back, revealing a clean forehead and sharp cut eyes. He didn’t bother buttoning up the top three buttons on his black shirt under the blazer.

Ten tilted his head and a strand of raven hair fell into his eyes.

“I came to report to Your Majesty,” he purred and Jaehyun stepped closer, “Everyone is in place as it was planned.”

“Is it based on what we have talked about last time?” Jaehyun murmured into his champagne glass. Ten inclined his head.

“Winwin is behind the security cameras in the basement. Jeno is mingling along with Kun. Doyoung and Taeyong are up in the gallery,” Ten mused in a voice similar to the shadows behind him before he glanced up at the private, veiled area and the lounge for the highest nobility and the princes. And now the assassins.

„Yukhei is over there,” Ten made a discrete head movement towards a waiter with a silver tray, packed with champagne glasses. As if arsonist knew the prince and the spy were talking about him, he turned around and sent a wink towards them. “Taeil and Jisung are lingering outside and well…”

The corner of Ten’s mouth curls upwards in a smile that promises nothing but chaos, “Z has yet to make her grand entrance.”

Jaehyun sighed into his champagne before he placed it onto Yukhei’s tray, who had gotten there in the meantime.

“What about my brothers?”

Ten leaned back into the silver coloured wall-fresco and Yukhei slowly placed new glasses onto his tray.

“Princes Johnny and Yuta are mingling as you see,” from the corner of his eyes, Jaehyun saw a female with lipstick that was so strong anyone would have seen it from the other end of the castle, bat her eyelashes at Yuta. “Prince Jungwoo is up on the gallery with Doyoung and Taeyong. And I believe Mark and Jaemin are on the balcony. Chenle and Donghyuck are with Winwin, down in the basement,” the spy’s voice then dropped into a whisper as he added, “thank to all the gods above. That young prince of yours, Donghyuck, is the devil incarnate.”

Jaehyun nodded with a small smile and Yukhei dropped a macaron into his mouth.

Grimace veiled over Ten’s face as he ran his eyes over the guests.

“I pay all my respect to you princes for being able to live surrounded with this much pretentiousness,” he drawled and scrunched his nose when he noticed a female tugging the cleavage of her dress lower before slipping in Johnny’s way, “do you know have some sort of limit to the people you let in here?”

“She,” Jaehyun lifted his champagne towards the female, no, girl, attempting to flirt shamelessly with the oldest prince, “is the youngest daughter of one of my father’s financial advisors.”

Ten snorted and Yukhei choked on his second macaron.

“I mean call me a savage but even I know that she ain’t supposed be acting like that,” the spy said before smoothing the loosened hair back onto his head.

Before he left, he turned to the prince with a serious expression, “You know what your role here is, right Your Majesty?”

As soon as Jaehyun nodded, the spy was nowhere to be seen.

“Your Majesty,” Yukhei mumbled before placing the last glass of champagne on the tray, “Is it your first mission?”

For a second Jaehyun was taken aback, and with eyes wide he scanned the taller male’s frame,

“I believe it is. Why?”

Flicking his bowtie, Yukhei shrugged.

“Was just gonna say that if you remember everything we have talked about, nothing can go wrong, y’know?”

With a cheeky grin that stretched across his face, giving his eyes a fiery sort of glow, the arsonist said, “Good luck prince. Try not to get lost in the flow!”

Jaehyun swirled his second glass, the words of the arsonist echoing in his mind.

Flow.

Try not to get lost in the flow.

Suddenly, he remembered crystal clearly what Taeil, the logistic said as a warning to him and his brothers.

“Once things get going – once all hell breaks loose – it will be easy to forget who we are and what we are supposed to do. We panic, and the rush of adrenalin, the Fight or Flight, will be the one dictating our actions. Not our brain.”

Jaehyun swirled his champagne again, his other hand curling in the pockets of his pants.

“Set your mind on your goal – turn it into something that you don’t only want with your brain, but with your instincts, your very core. That way, you won’t be washed away with the flow, as we like to call it.”

A brush of material pulled him back from his reverie, and a familiar, musky sent filled his nostrils and he knew who it was before he even had the chance to turn around. He grinned into the rim of the champagne glass.

“Hello there, Tan,” he mused, and the faint noise of her chuckle reached his ears and reminded himself of old memories, reminded him of tiny feet scurrying along the marble floors, reminded him of shrieks of exhilaration. Reminded him of his childhood.

“Hello, Woojae.”

“It’s been some time,” keeping his voice low, Jaehyun glanced at his friend, took in the familiarity of the shade of her skin, the lines of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows. He saw little difference from what he remembered from…” ten years, right?”

“Something close to that.”

Her voice still had the edge, that stinging tone which reminded everyone that she was from another land, that her mother tongue was a language completely different to his own.

Tilting her head, she smoothed over her dress, an elegant black piece with just enough ornaments to make it look out of the ordinary. Her lipstick reflected some of the chandeliers’ lights as her mouth pulled into a smile.

“Quite a mess you got yourself into.”

It wasn’t entire a question. He just let out the tiniest of sighs. Her eyes raked him up and down.

“You’re really tense. It’s way too obvious,” placing her own glass of champagne down she placed herself in front of Jaehyun.

Only that, with that smooth movement, her body collided with someone else’s.

“My dear, my apologies it’s my fault – “she started but words got stuck as her chest tightened at the sight of the spy. Jaehyun remembered the young man’s name, heard it being called enough times in the Diamond Snake’s suite, which has grown itself out to be more of a residence, camping site.

“I mean yeah it kind of is. Better be more careful next time,” Jeno purred with a wink before continuing his way into the crowd. Jaehyun caught the warning glint in the spy’s eyes. And kept his mouth shut.

“Who does he think he is,” Tan murmured more to herself than to the prince, “looking that good?”

Jaehyun choked, “sometimes I forget that you are almost three years younger than us.”

Shrugging, the stylist sipped from the glass as she raked her eyes over the guests and judging from her frown, she was quietly evaluating the dresses.

“This party is a disaster, was it the grandma that dressed these people? Speaking of her,” Jaehyun felt her eyes search his face, “I had quite a guest today, did you know?”

Jaehyun gulped, his eyes searching for Johnny. He knew who she was talking about.

Tan continued, “she is a tough little thing. I like it,” taking a sip she thought a little, “you find her intriguing, don’t you, Woojae?”

“Why would you think that?” his voice wasn’t as confident as he hoped it would be.

“Maybe we have not seen each other for a long time,” Tan purred, her rich accent weaving through her voice, “but I will never forget your compassion towards unusual things.”

It felt like his heart had let go of its strings, falling free. The breath got caught in his lungs and suddenly the only thing he wanted to do was sit on the balcony, surrounded by stars and darkness. Focus. He has to focus, he has to follow the plan.

“You can’t have compassion towards things that are unusual. Broken,” he murmured, as if saying it out loud would make him believe his own words. Tan placed lowered her head slightly when a young man bowed in their direction.

“She’s not a thing. She’s human, just like you or me.”

Jaehyun turned to her, his face contorted into confusion. Does Tan even have any idea what she does?

Tan didn’t have to look at him to know what his question was going to be.

“Understand before you judge,” her eyes searched for something or someone in the crowd.

They didn’t have much time before the assassin arrived, he had to have Johnny near him.

“Tan, do you know what is about to happen?”

The stylist nodded.

“Johnny told me everything,” her voice softened, “I also know the role you need to play. You can do it, believe in yourself.”

When the door above the main staircase opened, he knew it was time.

But a little part of him fell apart when he glanced upon who entered.

His heart stopped beating for a short time and he was sure he was not the only one.

When Johnny slipped next to him, unnoticed by the nearby nobles whose eyes were glued on her, on top of the staircase, Jaehyun almost couldn’t hear the words that left the oldest prince’s lips,

“All hail to the queen of Hell.”

Tan smirked, her blood-red lips painting a cruel, beautiful line on her face.

Your steps were confident as you descended the stairs, your movements a whirlwind of gold and crystal and fire. The champagne coloured dress showed off the expanse of your legs through the cuts and the back of the dress flowed behind you as a cape. A queen indeed.

“Kim Seokjin is right there,” Johnny whispered into his ear then, and Jaehyun snapped out of the momentary trance he fell in. His eyes followed the direction of the nod and he spotted the young, influential noble with eyes stuck on the assassin. A hunter, and a prey.

Only, it wasn’t the young man who led the hunt.

“Go, brother,” Johnny murmured, and the younger prince straightened, and placed the expression of a royal, of an heir. A veil that no one could see through. A mask that was forever stuck on his face. People stepped out of his way, and soon there was a narrow corridor between him and the assassin who was almost at their level. Her hair was straightened out and half of her hair was braided into a bun on the back of her head – he had to admit, she took the air from his lungs. Soon enough, there was no other sound in the room than the soft clicks of her golden stilettoes.

They reached the bottom of the Grand Staircase at the same time.

Her hand, adorned with thin, golden bracelets and rings, rested on the ivory railing.

When they locked gazes, he swore he could feel the universe expand.

“Your Majesty,” she said then, with a voice clear like a crystal, and lowering herself almost to the ground, curtsied. Reciprocating the gesture, he bowed before taking her hand.

“My lady,” his voice was quiet but confident, and he felt the slight dug of her manicured nails on the back of his hand.

The polish wasn’t black, but a glowing shade of gold; he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Whether he was used to the drastic change or not.

He led her anyways, into the middle of the dancefloor, with bronze leaves and curling figures carved deep into it. The guests backed up then, giving Jaehyun and the mysterious lady place. He looked at her.

Really looked at her, capturing her face into that moment, the slight bewilderment striking him in surprise – it was quite the opposite to what he was used to; the opposite of the always sly, always calm and collected glow in her eyes, that forever remained cold. Void of all emotions, unless she was with the Snakes.

He saw it, once.

“Say,” Johnny said one afternoon, leaning back in his armchair, “are you really as bloodthirsty as it is known in the country?”

It was one of the many occasions when the princes and the Snakes got to sit together and go through plans for the night of the ball.

When Jaehyun saw her and Taeyong exchange an all-knowing glance, he knew they were in for a treat.

“Bloodthirsty?” Z purred, and a Cheshire cat grin appeared on her face, “I have a story with bloodthirst, right, Yukhei?”

The arsonist smashed the ice-cream tub fiercely against the glass of the coffee table and Jaehyun cringed.

“Z, don’t,” Yukhei warned, his deep voice laced with grumbling laughter. The assassin’s eyes sparkled as she threw her legs over the arms of the sofa and leaned her head back, locks of hair tumbling down on the other side.

“I don’t know if this counts but,” she started and Jeno placed his head between his knees, his shoulders shaking violently, “our dearest Yukhei here, tried to…court a woman and the fact that she was going through her…monthly inconveniences didn’t deter him from doing it anyways.”

A beat of silence.

Then the roar of laughter echoing through the room and disbelief dripping from the royal princes’ expressions.

“She said it was fine?” Yuta grimaced and scooted further away from Yukhei who was hitting his knee in both amusement and embarrassment.

Z nodded, “she was into it as well,” and that was it for Jaehyun, who joined the others as soon as the surprise wore off.

When he caught her eyes, he saw galaxies shining in them.

Even though it was not the first time they danced and so held hands, the roughness of her palm never failed to surprise him. Callouses lined the expanse of her hands and arms and still, she carried herself as if she was the finest of diamond, the smoothest of velvets.

Pride, perhaps.

Pride of a criminal.

He spun her in front of himself, the memorised steps making both of their movements fluid and graceful – dancers in top of a lake. She faced him with her chin high up, a light fierce determination glowing in her gold-rimmed eyes. Jaehyun forced his heart into a steady rhythm, and when the music started, they danced.

 It was hard really, ignoring his cologne as he led you around the dancefloor, his eyes unreadable and yet still glowing with the warmest of lights. You were certain that if he wasn’t holding your waist you would have collapsed. This was not what you were used to – it was farm from the familiarity of the shadows and house roof tiles and in a twisted way, it frightened you to the bone. Not only a week, but even ten years’ worth of training wouldn’t have been able to ready you for the amount of attention aimed into your direction. It felt confusing – like being in a war with yourself, by living up to expectations but remaining true to yourself. The two were lightyears away from each other and you dreaded it.

But there was a plan.

And your job was to follow it.

Be the pretty lady that everyone expects you to be, Taeil’s soft-spoken voice sounded in the back of your mind and you swallowed, forcing yourself to meld your expressions into something soft, something endearing as you gazed into Jaehyun’s face.

His palm tightened on your waist in validation.

His fingers gazed the narrow slit on your waist, showing your skin off, although that small amount was nothing compared to the two giant slits that showed almost the entirety of your legs off.

Just enough so no one will have a glimpse on the dagger hidden beneath the fabric. A lady can never be safe enough.

“Seokjin is on the edge of the crowd by the pastries,” he murmured into your ear, his breath blowing the hair on the nape of your neck. Goosebumps erupted along your spine. With an elegant movement he led you so that you could take a look at the governor.

He was there, with ebony hair swept back, showing off his forehead and eyebrows – both of them beautiful and incredibly elegant. A scarlet-gowned female with breast spilling out of her dress tried to get his attention but with no success. As you turned the other direction, you felt his gaze following you, into and around the dancefloor with Jaehyun.

But you spun and twirled with Jaehyun, his santal-wood smell invading your senses, filling them, reminiscing.

And then Johnny came.

And the music stopped along with you and the prince. A wave of murmur tremored through the guests, some of them glaring, some of them whispering, some of them standing, confusion evident on their features.

Curtsying deeply, you didn’t look the eldest in the eyes, but you didn’t need to in order to know the silent fury burning in his orbs.

Yet his voice was as cold as the frost on top of a leaf as he said, “brother, I believe it is mine turn now.”

For a second Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on your skin, but then he inclined his head. Lifting your head slowly you glanced at the two brothers, glaring at each other, letting tension rise in the Grand Ballroom.

“The music hadn’t stopped when you intruded, so I am going to need you to let me finish the first dance,” was Jaehyun’s reply, and you shivered at his icy tone. From under your lashes you glanced at Seokjin, and the elegant swirl of the champagne caught your eyes. As he stared, he tilted his head. Interested. Fascinated.

He likes the cat and mouth game, Yuta’s voice resonated in your mind, he likes the chase and the sheer idea of conquering something or someone that is desired by many. Makes him feel triumphant.

You didn’t dare questioning his knowledge about the young governor.

As you tore your gaze from him, you found that Johnny was still in the middle of the dancefloor, middle of the attention as he slowly but surely, towered over Jaehyun – who did not back down. The soft-spoken prince was biting back words colder than ice, a side of him that you had not seen before. The guests didn’t need to hear any of the words spoken between the princes to figure out the reason of the sizzling tension between them.

You didn’t despise it as much as you thought you would.

From your hidden earpiece came a static sound and then Winwin’s baritone, “he is on the way, Z, do not turn around,” and straightening your back, you brought your hands together and began to massage your fingers together.

Show vulnerability but have your back straightened at all times.

“Excuse my intrusion, Your Majesties,” the voice that purred not far from you made your muscles tensed, senses sharpened and mind clearer.

Kim Seokjin was tall, almost as tall as Johnny, who towered over most of the guests. Your diamond earrings reflected all colours of the universe as it reflected the chandelier lights; his eyes seemed to gleam in a similar way when you turned around to look at him, up close.

If you have not dealt with models and men with incredible looks you might have fainted right on spot.

You didn’t even attempt to deny the fact that he was beautiful.

Something like triumph glinted in the princes’ eyes as they glanced at Seokjin before giving him a court nod. The low chirps and murmurs of the guests slowly but steadily rose again.

“Mr Kim, how are you enjoying the ball?” queried Jaehyun, with a smile that emphasized his dimples off and melted ice. The governor bowed and his plump limps quirked upwards, into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I find it pleasant, My Lord, although,” he added and suddenly you were hyperaware of his gaze as it slid along your body, reminding you of liquid silver and snake scale. Cold and smooth. “My breath is quite taken away.”

It was easy, really.

Way too easy in your opinion but the faint whisper in the back of your head nudged you along, to follow the plan. The cooling touch of the blade on your thigh helped you with keeping your bubbling adrenaline on the low.

You swore you saw something in Jaehyun’s eyes before he stepped away from you, along with Johnny – whose smile was close to the shade of the moonlight when it hits the ivory walls of the castle. Cool. Dark. Ever-knowing.

“Apologies for the little scene, ladies and gentlemen,” the eldest’s voice was now louder, less hushed and hurried, and his smile radiated nothing but victory, “Miss Jung is all yours, Mr Kim.”

And you danced again.

Seokjin’s hold was confident, a sort of distinct force that proved he knew he was better than everyone else here. That was what his eyes told you too. The shine of satisfaction gave everything away, and the more you stared into them, the brighter, more evident it became. Flattery. Maybe that’s what he needed.

“You are a good dancer, sir,” you mused, with a voice reminiscing of unkept promises and the softest of bedsheets. And he liked it. His lips, plump like the petals of a rose and, perhaps, with the touch of them, widened into a smirk as he gave a little bow of his head.

“You are too, Miss Jung, was it?”

As you spun around the dancefloor in a confident manner, more people started to fill the dancefloor, people with champagne bubbles in their blood and laughter in their eyes. You fought the urge to scrunch your nose. You have never wanted a cigarette more in your life.

“I am, sir. You must be Mr Kim Seokjin,” you tilted your head as you smiled at him, as honest as it could get, “I have heard about you.”

You felt his shoulders tense as he straightened himself even more, puffing out his chest like a bird before a mating dance. Men. Ridiculous, and the same.

No, not all, some distant part of your brain laughed at you and you ignored it.

“I believe I have heard your name before as well, Miss Jung. About your past, more like,” his voice was somehow apologetic, “a tragedy, really.”

You shook your head before you let him spin you out of his arms then back again, in sync with other dancers.

“It is in the past. I barely remember any of it. I grew up with the people who were entrusted with my upbringing,” you said, and he nodded in understanding.

For a while you didn’t say anything, just danced, for one round, then two and by the third your chest was heaving, and strands of your hair loosened out of the jewels adorning your head. You let his hands wander lower with each round, let his breath caress your neck, let him whisper in your ears.

And in turn you pressed your chest against his, danced your fingers on his suit-clad bicep, flashed the brightest of smiles that glowed as vividly as the crystals and gold on your fingers, around your neck, in your hair.

And you talked, and talked and whispered and giggled, until both of your ears were bleeding from it.

He spun you and you laughed and widened your eyes, so the chandelier lights reflected in them, making it seem like they were twinkling in joy, instead of calculation. He seemed enamoured and you gave yourself a mental pat on the shoulders.

It was after the fifth dance, while sipping champagne, that you said, “I need a bit of air, should we go out to the balcony?”

Walking in front of him, you put somewhat of a hot-blooded sensation in your steps so your lower back would swing more, and you practically felt the burn of his gaze as he walked behind you.

Goosebumps erupted on your skin when you stepped out on the balcony and the breeze got caught in your hair. There were not many people outside, only a couple and in the farthest corner you noted Jaemin and Mark, with their back to you. If they memorised the plan well then, they will be aware of the fact that you are there too.

Placing your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you gazed out onto the garden, filled with trees and flowery bushes, adorned with clear-white fairy lights. Seokjin leaned next to you, but with his back to the marble parapet. He sized you up and down, yet again, and pretending you haven’t noticed, you kept on sipping your champagne.

“You know,” you mused, staring at a couple behind an apple tree, “I find it so ironic, that the Royal Family arranges a ball like this,” you made a flick with your wrist, referring to the celebration, to the shrill laughs, to the liquid lies spilling out of nobles’ mouths, “for a couple of gangsters only.”

He scoffed and you dared a glance.

His thumb brushed over his tulip lips before turning to watch you, your eyes and lips with a gaze that reminded you of madness and molten gold. He was supposed to be working for the King directly. Sure.

“Not for long,” he purred before leaning closer. You leaned with him, and you were certain that Mark and Jaemin shifted closer as well.

“You know,” Seokjin continued, “I find their presence incredibly disturbing. My office is not far from the Wing they live in…and for some reason I keep on hearing crashes and these terrible curses!” his voice went over into something like a whine and you tried to pull the most sympathetic smile you had.

“Oh, dear God!” you exclaimed before placing your bejewelled hand on your chest, “You hear those people?!”

He nodded vehemently before reaching out to twist a strand of your hair around his pinkie finger. You tilted your head so he wouldn’t see the tiny, transparent earpiece, hidden by the olive-branch shaped golden ear jewel.

“I hear them, almost every day,” he whispered, “I hear everything, see everything and I might just know how to get rid of them.”

You shuddered and your earpiece sizzled.

“You do?” you spoke equally low, and let your breath mingle with his, let him near your lips with a predator’s patience.

“I do,” he then looked straight into your eyes before purring, “and I might just think about keeping you alive.”

You stilled.

Jaemin and Mark stilled.

The whole world seemed to freeze into a moment of silence and calm and the only thing you heard was the beating of your own heart and the sizzling in your ear.

Then, for the first time that night, you heard Winwin’s voice.

“Z get the fuck out of there,” his voice was urgent, and you swore you heard a crashing noise from inside the ballroom.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your mind seemed to have gone blank and your eyes were searching in Seokjin’s to find that one sign that would lead you on, that would give you exit.

But the only thing you found was that ever-knowing glint, that confident smile which you have mistaken for arrogance.

This is not good.

“Z, are you there?” Ten’s voice resonated then, and you dared to look at the two younger princes who stood frozen, with their eyes glued on you. You tore your eyes away from them and calmed the thrumming of your blood. Or at least you tried. A whole night worth of adrenalin started to climb itself back into your brain and you swallowed. Don’t go with the flow. Don’t give in. Be the master. Be the superior.

Seokjin’s finger was now completely twisted in your hair, and you felt him grabbing the nape of your neck.

Another crashing noise.

And then the screams started.

Voices filled your ear, not only through the earpiece, but from the ballroom and you were just sure that chaos has erupted inside.

Mark and Jaemin started towards the double-winged glassdoors of the balcony and you bellowed.

“No! You two stay out here!”

They halted and maybe it was the force of your voice or the sheer terror in it that made them listen to you. You didn’t care.

This was a trap.

This has been a trap all along.

“Let me go,” you said then, your voice carefully veiled with calm and venom, and he smiled, that irritating, confident smile and you swore you have never wanted to punch someone so hard in the nose before.

As he let go you stepped away immediately, following the screams and chaotic noises into the ballroom.

You didn’t look back at Seokjin before throwing the doors open and stepping inside. Most of the people fled, a couple zipped past you with champagne stains on their outfits. Then the doors crashed close, trapping at least fifty people inside, along with yourself.

And the Snakes and Princes who were inside the ballroom.

It all went down in slow motion.

The dancefloor of the gigantic room cleared out, the remaining guests pushing themselves up against the walls. Pure terror was written all over their faces, at the scene that played in the very middle of the room.

Prince Chenle stood there.

With a knife at his throat.

And at the end of the knife, the person who was holding it…

Junhui.

You stopped breathing as you took in his face, took in that familiar, sharp smile.

As your eyes met with Yukhei’s from across the room, you were certain he was horrified, just as much as you.

They were here.

The Black Spade was here.

#dangerously #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct mafia #nct royal #royal jaehyun #mafia yn #royal fanfiction

[crystalinn]

I haven’t posted about this here yet, but boy howdy has my life been A Mess™️ of late.

TW: medical talk, high stress situations, mentions of blood under the cut

This is a very long post, so a mild TL;DR: ma’s sick and this is me for eternity now (loud noises in video): 

Picture it. November 10th (ish. Time is hard.). The motherbeast came down with a case of viral bronchitis. She got a few days off work to recover. 

A couple days pass. She went back to work. Her manager sent her in the cooler for two hours. 

An immediate downturn ft. a fall out of bed that took 45 minutes to fix, heavy panting, confusion, the whole lot. She went to the Express ER. They said “oh hey, your viral bronchitis has become full blown pneumonia. You’re goin’ to the Real Hospital™️ for two days. See if you respond well.” Turns out, she did, at first. 

About a week or two of what seemed like solid improvement all came crashing back down when her return to work arrived. She went back to work... or tried to. She went to step onto the curb and gravity said no. She faceplanted the pavement, and the ambulance was called. A thorough concussion check later, and her manager drove her and her truck home. The next day, she went back to the Express ER, and they said “oh shit, your lung xray is worse than last time. Back to the Hospital for you.” 

That stay was nine days long. She was tested for tuberculosis (which came back negative, thankfully), and had a PICC line installed. During said stay, she did get rather confused and agitated, as it was near the end of the month and the rent needed paid. She called me in the middle of the night, asking me to move her IV... despite me being at home. So that was a thing.

After she came home on the 4th of this month (December), I had to start administering her PICC line antibiotics, every 8 hours. Did y’all know that cefepime (a bigboi antibiotic) smells like someone doing unholy things to eggs? Sulfuric smelling bullshit, that. Had some hiccups there, what with massive air bubbles in the line and getting the infusion orb stuck on the line. We were supposed to be done the 25th. Then she went to her new primary care doctor, and it was extended to the 6th of January, which h.

Anyway, fast forward to the 23rd. Mum was out with a pal, getting some groceries, and some Miralax ‘cause... y’know, and she fell on her ass. At this point, falling down is like a glowing neon red flag. She came home, was a bit wobbly, but was generally okay. Her primary care doctor called after the home health nurses stole some blood to tell her that her potassium levels are critical. A friend/my ‘adopted’ brotherbeast, Frank, brought her a fuckton of bananas that night. 

Now this is where it gets real fuckin’ spicy. The morning of the 24th, after we get done with the 7am orb, I gave her a dose of Miralax. She was fine, until the 3pm orb, when severe gut cramps showed up. Those lasted until about midnight when things... moved along. After that, shit went downhill fast. I put her to bed after orb times at 11 pm, and she kept waking up. As time went on, she got more and more confused. Like, she knew general things, in a kinda slow way, but she could not follow directions. On the morning of the 25th (fucking Christmas.), things had reached its boiling point. She was very confused, unable to focus, slurring words. I rang up a friend, Sandy (who has been a massive help this whole time of Fuckery), to get her to the ER. This triggered a complete meltdown. It took both of us to get her out of her chair, not to mention the sudden burst of confused crying and begging not to go. 

We finally managed to get her there, and the ER’s like “yo this looks like a stroke, so we’re gonna keep her, do an MRI or three, and get back to you.” Turns out she was very dehydrated, currently has a UTI, and is still a bit... shall we say, fucked up. But, the MRI came out clean, but there was some issue with the PICC with like, a blood clot, but they cleaned it out, so they let her go on the 26th. 

But just wait for it... I put her to bed pretty much as soon as she got home, ‘cause she doesn’t sleep in the hospital. Makes sense, right? I went to check on her at about 8, and she was unable to really comply with requests/commands/questions. I’d ask “what’s your name?”, I’d get her name (most of the time), but when I’d ask “when’s your birthday?”, I’d get her name again. Or the fact she lost her PICC line cap, and I’d ask her to hold the newly sterilized port so it wouldn’t touch anything, she’d say okay, take it, and immediately drop it. Repeatedly. 

I broke down whilst on the phone with my dad because everything has been too much of late, and eventually put her back to bed to wait for the 11pm orb. 

11pm rolled around... and well. I couldn’t get her to wake up. She’d react to me poking and prodding her by making noise and moving away, but she would not wake up. Not properly. So, I called the on call home health nurse to see if she could help, and she pretty much told me to just call an ambulance. Not wanting the expense because I live in Hell the US, I called my dad. He helped me try to wake her up over the phone, but she flat refused. I was left with no choice. So, I called the ambulance, and just before they knocked on the door, she sat up like “huh?” but extra confused. She almost didn’t go to the hospital because she said “nah, I don’t want to go” but one of the EMTs was like “nah, you gotta go.”

So, she spent about 8 hours in the ER, and they told me that they can’t keep her since she was mostly lucid, but they did float an Idea (a skilled nursing facility, at least until she got her ducks in a row) to her that was immediately denied, but with some prodding from me, she finally agreed. So they moved her upstairs from the ER to keep her until they can find a facility in the Blue Cross/Blue Shield network that’s reasonably local. The one that came to visit yesterday turned out to not be, and I’m pretty sure the dude kicked it back to the Case Supervisor to see if they can find another. But, after they moved her into her room, she’s cleared up quite a bit. 

She’s still a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, a bit unfocused, and can get caught out in the grapes mentally, but she has improved a lot. 

Oh, and another thing she’s been doing is fighting me re: eating since the first go around. Bread’s a texture issue, rice is hard to eat without teeth, and everything else “smells bad” (which, since she’s quit smoking as of that second hospital stay... I understand, but you gotta sometimes push past that.) I did manage bananas though. Thank fuck for those. 

But, back to the plot: today (the 28th) was a decent day. Much clearer, less starts and stops in her speech. A bit more focused. She didn’t manage to sleep last night, so she was kinda tired. Had another MRI, but we won’t know about that until probably tomorrow (the 29th). Maybe. Had some PICC issues, though. The nurse got the cefepime running just fine, then mum had to use the bathroom, and when she came out, the machine started screaming bloody murder. After that, the nurse came back and tried to flush the line, since the cefepime was unable to run, and when she took the syringe off, the saline shot right back out... which ain’t supposed to happen. Hit me, the nurse, mum, the bed... probably got the windows too. So they’re working on that, and hopefully they figure it out.

Had my own woes at the hospital today, too. The sole of my boot fell off, so my ride/friend/adopted sister?, Sandy, went to walmart and got me some Heavy Duty Superglue, which I got it about half way stuck before we had to leave... then when we were pulling into the parking lot at home, the nurse in charge called to ask some questions about the PICC, the antibiotic, how long it’d been there, how long she was supposed to be on it, the pharmacy’s number, all that. So I went to get out of the car, my coke bottle fell out of my pocket, started rolling under the car, and I overextended. Fell right on my knees. They are not happy. Took a hot minute to get my dumb ass off the ground, without hurting Sandy, who is like 5′2″ and v smol. I am 5′6″ and... decidedly not. Plus the bonus rain.

UPDATE 12/29/2019: the diverticulitis has made a reappearance. It’s like everything is just It’s free real estate.

UPDATE 12/31/2019: Around 2 am this morning, she managed to roll out of bed and whack her head pretty good on something. They did a CT scan, and it came out clean. No concussion. However, now she has a sitter/keeper/minder to make sure she doesn’t do it again. It’s a good thing the nurses heard her fall, ‘cause despite being armed, the bed alarm didn’t go off. I know of all of this, ‘cause the hospital called me at 3 this morning, and boy howdy that’s a gut drop, let me tell you. But, better a CT ride and a bump on her noggin vs. the alternative. Sure is one thing after a-fucking-nother, ain’t it though.

UPDATE 1/1/2020: 2019 keep your problems challenge: she's had a major mental shift again, and now she's really groggy, really confused... So the hospital moved her to the ICU and called me for consent on a spinal tap, just to make sure they're not missing anything. Other than that, they've done x-rays and another CT, I think to check her spine, hips, the one leg she's been having issues with. The doctors also think that it may be the cefepime causing this altered mental state, and after doing some digging, boy howdy I sure believe it. Cephalosporins are some nasty fuckers.

So! That’s been my month and a half! I’d like to take a break now, please!

EDIT: Further updates found here.

#medical tw // #high stress situations tw // #mentions of blood // #honestly this is more of a log for me in a more concrete area than discord #but if anyone's interested in the Fuckening that is my life rn #have at it

[thelifetimechannel]

The Dave and Dirk log, for obvious reasons, was something I wanted to try very hard to get right. That meant although we drafted it together via msparp, as was our custom, I ended up overhauling it way more than any of our other combo walkaround logs. A few chunks did survive the transfer, though.

In other news, we’ve made a solemn pact to finish TLC over winter break, which is good because I’m running out of bonus content. Hopefully we’ll have some assets to show off soon. I’ve already seen a few; they’re very nice.  

DIRK: Hey, dude. You did pretty well out there. DIRK: Didn't even die once. DAVE: twice in a day is my max im satisfied with keeping that record DAVE: even if getting machinegunned is rapidly becoming my "thing" DIRK: Seems we each have our respective "signature deaths". DIRK: Or at least it ain't a party until I get decapitated. That sure was something we needed to do again. DIRK: Just once, for old time's sake. DAVE: well that puts the nail in the meme coffin DAVE: any time you panic someones gonna tell you to keep your head on DAVE: like keeping your hair on except you know that shit aint going anywhere its probably shellaced DIRK: That shit is bolted to the floor. Did you know I walked around with a girly-ass pink tiara on my head this whole day and had no idea? DIRK: I had no idea. Couldn't feel a thing. DIRK: And people let me do that. DIRK: Can't fuckin' believe it. DAVE: oh DAVE: i figured you knew DIRK: I am less than pleased with my Skaia-ordained divine color scheme. DIRK: But I guess I have to live with it. It's part of the team aesthetic. DAVE: you could always change DIRK: Nah, with the tiara and tights ditched I have at least mitigated the enforced flamboyance. It's bearable. DIRK: I can't be the one dude out of uniform. Couldn't bear the shame. DAVE: my outfit is pretty sick ngl DAVE: sburb knows everyones secret desire is to have a cape DIRK: Unfortunately, mine isn't long enough to also make for a good tactical maneuver. DIRK: Not gonna lie, that was pretty funny. DAVE: if nothing else my attempts at combat can provide a source of humor in our lives DAVE: but honestly id be fine if my fighting days were over DAVE: i was never into it DAVE: rose on the other hand was obviously itching to beat people up DAVE: one of those 12 year olds who wants to get jumped in an alley to work out her suppressed anger DIRK: Maybe Skaia did make a few miscalculations in dumping your asses with your respective guardians. I think you'd get along well with Roxy and her cats, make her budget her time away from the alcohol. DIRK: ...in theory. DIRK: Rose can go a few rounds with me if she wants, we still need to sort out who has the rights to document our legendary journies. DAVE: ill plan your funeral DAVE: what kind of flowers do you want DIRK: ...there's different kinds? DAVE: damn thats right you grew up in waterworld DAVE: these choices matter DAVE: allegedly theres a thing called "flower language" DAVE: whether you can actually send someone a boquet telling them to meet you in the pit i dont know DIRK: Like, I get that, in theory, different kinds of flowers exist. But I fully anticipate any attempt on my part to conjugate in the language of said plants would end in my coffin declaring my hovercraft was indeed full of eels. DIRK: Maybe it'll have thorns on it. Or it'll be like the sixteen millions tons of green bullshit covering my land and making my nose itch. DAVE: probably DIRK: Worst case scenario, I'll pick out something orange and present to a prospective love interest and it'll mean something like "my brotherly passion for you knows no boundaries, and also no homo". DAVE: my bro wouldnt go for flower arranging DAVE: or pink tiaras DAVE: he was pretty uptight about the whole rah rah macho act DAVE: probably subscribed to alpha males weekly DAVE: which is weird considering DAVE: well DAVE: youre gay right DIRK: Uh. DIRK: Well. DIRK: My symbolic quest land is not covered in green bullshit, but I. DIRK: Happen to like watching birds, if you know what I mean. DIRK: Fuck, you probably don't know what that means. Jake and his goddamn thousand euphemisms. DAVE: cant say i do no DIRK: Nobody knows what it means but Jake. It's an old time epithet for being into dudes. DIRK: He knows all the old epithets, including some I suspect he made up. DAVE: so DAVE: thats a yes DAVE: in a roundabout way that includes birds DIRK: I've never denied it. DIRK: I'm just. DIRK: Not a huge fan of the word. Why, in this world post-society, do we need to confine ourselves to labels like "gay"? Such constraints were washed away from my world with the rest of the human race. DAVE: holy shit that was such a pretentious dodge DAVE: dont let rose hear you say that DIRK: Rose can hear all she likes. DAVE: but anyway DAVE: i wasnt asking to get up all in your business like SOME PEOPLE DAVE: who are so into getting into other peoples businesses theyre basically the fucking mafia or the irs DAVE: but DAVE: it explains some stuff DAVE: but on the other hand it doesnt DAVE: the way you raised me was kinda aggressively mainstream masculine enough that it wasnt something that ever seemed to come up as an option DAVE: [describe that type of culture and mindset better later, I KNOW what i mean but im tired rn lmao] DAVE: and anything outside of that id just brush off because it couldnt apply to me DAVE: and that went for pretty much everything that went against what you wanted for me DAVE: including that DIRK: And yet, here the man was, subconsciously shrieking his desire for floppy felt dong through, DIRK: What I guess you could call his art, for want of any other applicable word at all. God, the mental images are crawling up the insides of my skull like the Exorcist child, do I want to know? DAVE: probably not DAVE: guess trying to act peak male has its drawbacks DAVE: weirdly enough troll culture is obsessively hyperviolent but doesnt give a shit about sexuality DAVE: they dont see the difference most of the time i guess DAVE: and so like DAVE: maybe it rubs off on you because in some ways that kind of makes sense DAVE: but after so long its hard to know what i feel and what it means because i spent so long ignoring it DAVE: so i guess i was wondering DAVE: if you had anything that might help with that DAVE: or if youre also trapped in this whirling screaming maelstrom of bullshit DAVE: while kinsey sits in the eye of the storm laughing DIRK: Wait, wait, wait. DIRK: You're coming to me. DIRK: For advice. DIRK: Do you know what a laughable hurricane of disaster my interpersonal life has been? DIRK: Like, in a weird way, I'm kind of honored, especially since about five hours ago you were scared shitless to be around me, but. DIRK: I'm standing here and waving my credentials in the air just to display how I don't fucking have any. My degree is a sham and my hands are empty except for a crudely scribbled on piece of construction paper. DAVE: are you suggesting theres a gay university DAVE: where you study bird watching DIRK: Do I look like a man who's been to college? DAVE: fair DAVE: but like DAVE: your friends know DAVE: how did you broach the subject there DIRK: I might as well have been dating a Yoko Ono for the devastation it wreaked on our friend group, so yeah, it was a little hard to ignore. DIRK: Compounded by the fact some smartass from Gay University was using my social circle for romance geometry homework. DIRK: It wasn't even a love triangle so much as a love roundabout. DAVE: ok but thats just because you were a dipshit not a gay dipshit DAVE: they were chill about the first part right DIRK: Thanks. DIRK: I mean... Roxy always seemed disappointed. DAVE: luckily i dont think anyones waiting in line for me DAVE: i guess im blowing it out of proportion DAVE: i dont think anyone will MIND DAVE: no one did about rose and kanaya DAVE: didnt even question the vampire bit which goes to show what our lives are like these days DAVE: like ok our outfit has vampires now DAVE: thats a thing that we have DAVE: if i say oh hey i might be bisexual theyll just say sure pull up a chair at the acronym table DAVE: the only one who might be weird about it is john DAVE: but hed be just as weird if i told him id changed my favorite color hes just like that DAVE: the only person its really a big deal for is me DIRK: Jane was a little bit like that. I'm pretty sure the only reason she had to object was because she found out the day I made a move on her crush. DIRK: It might just be growing up in a household where you're not regularly fighting for your life, and thus what genders are kissing whom has the space to be higher on your priority list. DAVE: that aint anyones priority these days DAVE: im prepared to acknowledge the concept that hey maybe everyone elses lives dont revolve around me and my personal drama or self revelations might have some merit at least as a hypothesis DAVE: when i met kid english he kept going on about how i was the most important person and everyone else was side characters DAVE: and maybe ive acted like that sometimes DIRK: Yeah, like you alone are the one responsible for everyone around you. DAVE: and maybe ive acted like i think that way too sometimes DAVE: ive been wrong about people DAVE: people i care about people i shouldve known better DAVE: i was wrong because i wanted to believe things that matched how i wanted the world to be DAVE: things that made it easier for the story i was telling myself DAVE: i dont think kid english meant to call me on it but damn DIRK: Reality is, after all, something we construct for ourselves. DIRK: I think maybe I knew that all along when I surfaced for air inbetween shoving my head as far up my ass as it would go. DIRK: Or maybe that's just what I try to tell myself in hindsight. DAVE: well if it takes a hyperactive 12 year old version of the final bosss creepy hero worship of me to make a point i guess thats not the least subtle way the universe has sent me a message lately DIRK: You want unsubtle? Let me tell you about my damn planet quest. DAVE: haha DAVE: i didnt have to do much of my quest because im invisible DAVE: thanks mom DIRK: My denizen practically sat me down like it was my life coach and growled in my ear about improving my communication skills with a guy I told to go fuck himself not eighteen hours prior. DIRK: So while I'm glad SBURB has a vested interest in me repairing my friendships, playing electroshock death DDR with him was a little on the nose. DAVE: maybe getting shot again wasnt that bad DAVE: so weve all learned our life lessons good job team DIRK: Exactly. Can we wrap this up now? Can we please go rest? DIRK: I'm so exhausted I haven't even noticed I'm still hungover. DAVE: sure thing DAVE: but if i need tips on leaping out of a closet to intimidate passerby i might text you DIRK: I mean, I can try. As long as you don't ask me for dating tips. That, I definitely shouldn't be helping you with. DIRK: Go talk to your sister for that. DIRK: ...wouldn't she, by the transitive property of siblings, also be my sister? DAVE: yeah i guess DAVE: but theres no way in hell im asking rose for dating advice DAVE: on her first date which she refused to admit was romantically oriented she got wasted in anticipation forgot to show up and then fell down the stairs DIRK: Oh my god. DAVE: she tries to look like shes got her shit together but its a lie DAVE: if you find my corpse floating on lolar in the next few hours dont let the truth die with me DIRK: Why are we like this? DIRK: Is there actually something hardwired into our DNA that predisposes us to being disasters? DIRK: But, that aside. DIRK: I won't object if it's me you come to talk to. DAVE: ill hold you to it DAVE: and if you ever want to publicly you admit you DAVE: "enjoy birdwatching" DAVE: in less vague and evasive terms DAVE: ill have your back DIRK: Thanks.

#bonus content

[sehunsmuabrows]

Superstar// Byun Baekhyun part. 4

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader  

Genre: Angst, fluff-ish

words:  2,646

Summary: You haven’t been back home since your career took off and you had a huge breakup. After traveling around the world, you return home to see that your ex boyfriend has achieved his dreams.   

A/N:  Inspo and found text from song: Hyorin x Jooyoung (ft. Iron)- Erase 

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Ever since he first re appeared into your life, you started to notice him everywhere. It seemed as if his face was plastered onto almost everything you looked at. The guilt ate away at the inside of your stomach whenever your thoughts drifted towards the man. The ghost of his presence haunted you, a sense of culpability looming over you as you reflected on the past.  

The phone slipped out of your grasp, muscles weakening from shock. Your stomach dropped, hands shaking while looking down at the powder pink push up bra that was halfway pushed underneath the bed. You bent down, grabbing the piece of clothing from the floor. You might not have reacted the way you did, had there not been a name sewn into the underband. You stared at the initials for a few seconds. Your fist tightened around the bra before you stormed out of the room to where Baekhyun was laying on the couch. You threw the bra at him aggressively, slapping him in the face. He hopped up from his seat in defense, trying to process what you had just done. His expression shifted into a playful grin before dropping, seeing your watery eyes.

“How could you?” Your voice came out weaker than you had hoped. Baekhyun’s eyes shifted from you to the bra that fell beside his feet. His mouth opened to speak, but you cut him off. “With my sister, too? When did you even meet her?” you felt like the world was spinning and all you wanted to do was remove yourself from the situation.  

“I have no idea where that came from, I swear Y/N I would never do that to you” Baekhyun said frantically, grabbing at your hand before you jerked it away.  

You scoffed, “That’s what they always say, Baekhyun. What other reason could there possibly be for my sister’s bra to be in your bedroom?” you stared at him in the eyes, he flinched at your words. You weren’t sure exactly when you started crying, but you couldn’t stop. You sat down onto the couch, head in your hands. It was a pitiful sight, crying at his feet when you wanted nothing more than to experience the reverse.

Baekhyun was speechless, not even making an effort to defend himself or console you. You finally looked up at him through swollen eyes, “Are you cheating on me?”

It was a pointless question, since you already knew the answer. But you wanted to hear him say it. Baekhyun shook his head furiously, seeming to snap out of a trance. His denials were not enough to appease you, though. You stood up, ashamed of yourself for crying in front of him. You walked back to his room to retrieve your phone and purse, fighting off a hysterical Baekhyun before walking out of his apartment without a word.

After you left him, you assumed that you would get over him and file him with all of the other guys who chose your sister over you, but you could never. You could never group him with those men, because you loved him. You loved him sincerely, and he treated you better than any of your past boyfriends ever had. You could never shake the underlying hope and guilt that maybe he wasn’t lying, and you should have given him a chance.

Ever since you drove him home after your lecture, you were plagued with thought of the past. The burden weighed you down heavily, not helped by the impending finals that you had to prepare for. You found yourself checking your messages more frequently, on edge at the thought of a message from Baekhyun. You stared at the message that he sent to himself on your phone, wondering why he had done that if he wasn’t going to contact you at all. It had been 3 weeks since you had spoken to him and his intentions were unclear.

Thankfully your schedule kept you busy enough to keep your mind off of him most of the time. You finally found an apartment uptown and moved out of Areum’s place, but she still visited frequently. She did her best to visit you and make sure that you weren’t working yourself too hard, even though she was preparing for finals as well. Grateful wouldn’t begin to cover what you felt when she barged into your apartment with a bottle of strawberry vodka in one hand and wingstop in the other. A large smile was painted on her face as she hustled past you towards your kitchen.

“Put away all your work stuff, we’re getting wasted tonight!” she shouted out from the kitchen, gathering supplies for whatever she had planned. Excitement bubbled inside of you, it had been forever since you got a chance to let loose. Neither of you had work the next day, so you were free to be as irresponsible as you wanted. You quickly gathered your papers into their respective folders and saved the documents on your computer before shutting it, storing it in your work purse.

Areum started setting up the living room, opening up the wingstop boxes on the coffee table in front of the couch. You screeched as she poured a shot of vodka into one of the shot glasses she received from the kitchen, every muscle in your body tensing up. “What the fuck? Get a coaster, are you insane?”

Areum smiled guiltily before getting up to retrieve coasters from the kitchen. You shuddered at the thought of alcohol spilling onto the expensive wood table you just bought. She quickly came back with the coasters, sitting back down on the couch next to you. She quickly snatched the remote from your hand, flipping through the channels before settling onto a cheesy romance drama. You poured yourself a shot, downing it quickly- too quickly- causing you to cough after feeling the burn in your throat. After several shots, the cheesy drama that you were watching became a lot more interesting.

“What’s with main characters being emotionally illiterate, nobody knows how to say what they feel!” you pointed at the screen sloppily, digging into the hot wings.  

“God, you get so preachy when you’re drunk, can you pass the blue cheese?” Areum said, slightly less intoxicated than you, but still far past the legal driving limit. You passed her the blue cheese slowly, suddenly feeling sad.

“It’s not like i’m much better than them though, I don’t even have the balls to confront my hotshot ex.” You slurred, taking another shot bitterly, “He makes me feel bad and I want him to know that” you fell into Areum’s lap like a child.

“Text that son of a bitch then! Come on, grab your phone i’ll help” she shouted encouragingly, riling you up successfully. You felt especially reckless with the alcohol in your bloodstream, grabbing your phone from the side of the couch and unlocking it. You quickly found Baekhyun in your messages, huddling with Areum to look at the screen.  

You typed everything that you were thinking, eventually forgetting who you were even texting at one point. The rest of the night was a blur, you weren’t sure how many more drinks you had or how much more damage you had caused before collapsing onto your bed.  

You woke up with a pounding headache, but you were grateful that it was your only symptom. The light streamed through the window, letting you know that it was daytime, hopefully still morning. You slid off of your bed feeling especially gross as you were still in your work clothes. You took a cold shower before putting on a large sleepshirt and stepping into your living room. You were pleasantly surprised to see that you hadn’t made much of a mess last night besides a few dirty plates on the coffee table and empty shot glasses. Areum was passed out shirtless on the floor cuddling a couch pillow, but that was a fixable issue. The room reeked of alcohol though, and you were sure you’d be spending the majority of your sunday trying to fix that. At least that’s what you thought before your phone started ringing from the kitchen. Pulling your hair into a ponytail, you walked over to the kitchen to see who was calling. The caller ID shone brightly in the windowless kitchen, ‘BAEKHYUN’ displayed on the screen. The memories of the texts you had sent him flooded into your mind as you stared at the name. You swallowed your fears and grabbed the phone, ready to take responsibility for your actions. As soon as you pressed the phone to your ear, Baekhyun’s loud voice erupted from the speaker.  

“Y/N are you okay? I’m right outside of your apartment, please open up” His voice wavered subtly.  

“Why would you show up here, are you insane?” You snapped in a hushed voice at him, walking through the apartment approaching the door, stepping over a sleeping areum. You opened the door slightly to be greeted by a disgruntled Baekhyun. His eyes brightened at the sight of you, causing you to notice how red they were. “How did you know where live?” You spoke through gritted teeth, trying your best to not wake up Areum.  

Baekhyun pushed your door open wider, “You sent me your location in text, Can we just talk inside?” You pushed his chest before he could step inside, gesturing to him to keep quiet. His face twisted in confusion, glancing behind you to see a half naked Areum asleep on the ground.

“Listen, I don't remember exactly what I said to you last night, but I was drunk and I probably didn’t mean it, so i’m going to need you to leave.” You said as firmly as you could, he seemed hurt, but you weren’t concerned about his feelings at the moment. You wanted to cut him off and move on, even if you had failed at it in the past, you were going to have to manage. His gaze was intense on you, taking in your presence as you stood in front of him. The tenseness of the situation was palpable. Before the silence could become awkward, you heard a raspy voice from behind you.

“Who’s that at the door?” before Areum could get any closer, you slipped out of the door, shutting it behind you. You grabbed Baekhyun by the wrist and made a break for it down the hall in your slippers. You yanked him into the stairwell with you, trying your best not get spotted.  

“Okay, we can talk, but it has to be somewhere private” Baekhyun simply nodded, gesturing for you to follow him before walking down the stairs to the door that leads to the parking lot. Before opening the door, he tilted his hat downward and slipped on his facemask, presumably to avoid being recognized. But it only made his celebrity status more obvious in your opinion.

You found yourself in his car staring at the carpeted foot mat, taking in the words he spat out as if was nothing. “When you text me last night, I dropped everything and drove here. Even if you didn’t mean it, i’m still willing to try” he grabbed at your hand gently, strocking your knuckles softly. You looked at him incredelously, confused as to what you could have sent him to warant this response.  His stare was intense as he watched you pull out your phone, opening to the messages.  Your jaw dropped reading the messages, as you only recalled writing a few of them.

Y/N: Ur mean and u make me feel bad

Y/N: but i miss u, why dont u call?  

Y/N: why did u have to get famous? I want u to feel bad too

Y/N: Come here and face me coward

You started sharing your location with Byun Baekhyun

Y/N: I hate u, dont ever tell me u love me

Y/N: Dont lie like that

Y/N: I love yu and u love to lie   

Y/N: I mean nothing to you, I know and I can feel it.

You cringed as you read the messages over, disturbed that you had went to the length of sending him your location. You slammed your back into the seat in frustation, sighing loudly. The most painful part of the situation was the fact that you had meant everything.

“Don’t think too hard about it, we could never work” you spoke in an exasperated tone, facing him once again.  

“Why not? I’m telling you i never-”

“It’s not just that!” you snapped at him, making him flitch in response. “Alot has changed, you have alot of eyes on you, we both have careers and I’m not willing to flip my life around just to cater to someone who won’t even stay faithful.” you continued, holding eye contact with him. “Don’t worry about me or my feelings, I’ll erase my love for you. Just worry about yourself” You hurt him with your words, you could tell. His eyes were full of emotion that you chose to emotion.

“How clear do I have to make it for you to understand that I love you? When you left I couldn’t forget you, I never stopped missing you and wanting to be with you” He said, searching for something in your eyes.

“I’m sick of the same words, stop talking about the past, stop pretending to be nice” a tear rolled down past your nose, your words cut like a knife and you didn’t dare look back at Baekhyun. You stepped out of his car, walking back towards your apartment building without looking back. You almost reached the door before you were yanked backwards into a hard surface. You were enveloped in the warm embrace of the man you resented most. His arms wrapped comfortably around your torso, with his head pressed gently in the crook of your neck. You melted into his touch, letting your tears fall freely.  

“Please don’t go” he whispered, holding you even closer. You felt a stab of guilt at his words, turning around in his arms to face him. His eyes were red and puffy, even more than they had been when you first opened your door for him. You brought your hand to his cheek, tracing it softly before placing a soft kiss onto his lips. You had meant it to be a goodbye, a small, simple farewell and you would turn and walk away. But you couldn’t let go, and he wouldn’t let you. You were soon enveloped in him, and somehow you had managed to get back into his car.

Things had a habit of moving fast when you were with Baekhyun, and this time was no different. It took almost a twenty minutes of making out in the backseat before his phone started ringing. He grunted, fishing his cellphone out of his jean pocket.

“What do you want?” he snapped at the person on the other line while you sat on his lap awkwardly. His eyes went wide as the voice yelled back at him, you couldnt make out the words exactly but it seemed serious. He hung up the phone after muttering apologies to the person who had been shouting at him. “I’m so sorry, I’m late for a shoot and I look like shit. I have to go but I swear I’ll call you later to check in” he spoke nervvously, watching your face carefully.

You simply shrugged, sliding off of his lap, “See you around then” you said as nonchalantly as you possibly could, opening the door and stepping out into the direction of your apartment. As you opened the door to the building, you heard Baekhyun speed off towards destination, making you sigh involuntarily. Baekhyun was always your biggest cause of stress.

#baekhyun #exo #angst #fanfiction #au #fanfic #fluff #kpop #idolau #imagine