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Elegant Project Proposal

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[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! holy knight with saintess!reader scenario [part three]

warnings: obsessive behavior, profane language, religious themes, implied manipulation, physical harassment.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile devoice or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Part One

Part Two

Epilogue

Hey guys, welcome to part three of this collaborated series with @deathmetalunicorn1! I am currently on break and won't be back until the 14th, but I figured that since I had recently finished this, might as well post it for everyone to enjoy! I will make a post when I come back, so no worries, I'm not going anywhere yet~!

On another note, please keep in mind that no bullying is tolerated on here. If there is, then this segment and the other chapters will be removed in its entirety.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what will happen in today's episode :)

Yoo Kyung-Mi had been born with beauty and was taught to use it to her advantage. Her mother knew what she was talking about. Why else did she remarry a wealthy man and make their lives so much easier? It was so much better than barely getting by on their own, trapped in a dingy apartment and worrying if there will be enough food money until the next paycheck. Kyung-Mi went to university, found work at a gaming company and subsequently, a shadow to use to elevate her reputation. A lackey really, but she preferred the term shadow. It sounded much nicer. 

Her shadow was another game designer; instead of being the literal, living example of a dowdy-looking office worker, her shadow wore nice clothes. She always treated everyone equally in their department, helped whenever she could with their next project and had a nasty temper when provoked. Yoo Kyung-Mi found this out the hard way when she borrowed a coworker’s proposal and presented it at the next meeting, elevating her status as the director in charge of Labyrinth of Love. Her shadow had the fucking nerve to show her the security footage of her being at that extra’s computer, downloading the sample from the desktop and storing it in a flashdrive. 

She tried to deny it, playing the cute card of forgetting to mention the extra as being a collaborator because she was so stressed about the meeting before telling the shadow to make sure to finish her proposal on time because time was money. And then the fucking bitch grabbed her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the wall!  Her, the goddamned director! She could fire the shadow’s ass if she wanted to! This was workplace harassment! 

“You’re not the director yet, you idiot.” The shadow whispered in the shell of her ear. “That was an informal announcement, so you’re still an equal amongst us commoners. Honestly Kyung-Mi, when are you going to stop masquerading people’s creations as your own? I’ve told you back in university, during those seminars, that it would bite you in the ass. But you don’t listen.” 

“You wouldn’t be anywhere without me! You cannot live without me!” She spat. Then the shadow backed off, leaving the office as there hadn’t been a confrontation in the first place. Kyung-Mi didn’t know if the shadow was fucking mental or just didn’t give a shit about getting laid off….but she needed her shadow. It was her shadow’s creativity, like everyone else in the company, that helped MorpheusTech make millions from their products. Without them, there wouldn’t be any money. And Kyung-Mi wouldn’t have any ‘inspiration’ to elevate her status in the company. Tit for tat. 

On Monday morning, the shadow presented to the board with a game of her own. And everyone fucking loved it more than hers. Claimed that it was a breath of fresh air from the classic otome game formula. More interactions with the extra characters plus the main cast? And your choices will either boost the gamer’s stats like the Affection Meter, Morale, Reputation, or lower them? It would only be available on their digital store, and they could offer free demos to TubeTubers who have played their products in the past? Sold. The Labyrinth of Love was put on indefinite hiatus. Greenlight Fly Me To The Moon. Give her shadow everything she needs to make sure this project is a success. The company was counting on you, Kyung-Mi. Honored beauty. 

So she did. She stayed late at the office when it was past time for her to go home or go on a date. She missed her massage appointments, her precious Sundays had spent at home working on fine-tuning the game mechanics instead of shopping. Her toys started to lose interest in her. Yet she preserved because she was the heroine in this world and she would not lose.

But the final straw that broke the camel back had been all the shadow’s fault. 

Kyuing-Mi had been eyeing the gorgeous hunk Young-Min from Human Resources for a while. Tall, dark, and looked absolutely ripped in that three-piece Armani suit of his. Oh, did she mention that he was rich and super sweet? Well, now you know. When she had finally mustered the courage to approach him and confess her feelings for him (maybe use him to get rid of a certain someone), she found him with the shadow. He asked the shadow if they could get a cup of coffee later, averting his eyes and looking bashfully at the shadow. His face resembled a tomato when the shadow accepted the invitation, when the shadow smiled at him, and left to go on their break.

Honestly, the shadow should have realized that coveting someone who didn’t belong to her meant being bludgeoned from behind with a stapler. Kyung-Mi will admit that she did….she was a little angry. But if the shadow is dead, the villainess is dead, then that means she has finally everything. Not. She lost everything and got hit by a truck while crossing a busy intersection, desperately trying to search for a job before she lost her townhouse. 

Yet there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, right? Why else would she be here, possessing the heroine of Fly Me To The Moon, Cosette Lovelace? Sure, her character is supposed to be a gamer who got sucked into here and must clear it as a redeemed villainess, but where is the fun in that? All Kyung-Mi wanted to do was pursue after her bias, Sir Palamedes the second-in-command of the Holy Temple’s paladins. 

Of all the capture targets that were created in the shadow’s game, this is the one she had spent most of the time designing and writing both tragic and smutty endings with him. Thank God the shadow never knew that Sir Palamedes’ character concept looked exactly like Young-Min, from his mannerisms right down his little tic of fiddling with his hands when he was nervous.

Obsessed? No, she was observant, thank you. 

With the help of the Affection Level System, her own little playthrough guide, she was able to achieve the objectives needed to enter the Holy Temple of Aesir and unlock Sir Palamedes’ route. Everything was going smoothly until that damned extra, Harry or Harrow, had stopped her from staking her claim on Sir Palamedes. She threw something in her face, and she passed out on the floor. When she, Cosette, regained consciousness, it was almost nightfall. 

Swearing under her breath, she scrambled upright and smoothed out her grass stained skirts before all but running towards the cloisters leading back to her new private quarters. However, from seemingly out of nowhere, two older Sisters flanked her, blocking her path. She was about to turn up the innocent charm, claiming that she hadn’t meant to fall asleep under the tree with a cute  smile  when both of them wordlessly grabbed by the shoulders and hauled her into a cell. A fucking cell! Her! The heroine! 

She asked for food, and was given bread with water. When she was cold, she received a blanket and was left alone until morning. The same Sisters came back, grabbed her again and took her to the sanctuary. The pews were filled, every Brother and Sister was in attendance. The paladins circled around the altar. Her precious High Priest was there, and was her bias. So that fucking extra Harry. 

She frowned. “My flock, what is the meaning of this -” She didn’t get a chance to finish her question because a bolt of white-hot pain seared through her body. What in the world?! She looked down at the floor and there were runes under her feet, then glared back at the Sisters balefully. They had pushed her into a magic circle. How dare they do this to her?! 

Staggering to her feet, she turned her attention to the High Priest. “Father, why am I being subjected to this treatment? What have I done to you, to this congregation?!”  

“You dare to ask such a thing when the crimes against our Brothers and Sisters are so heinous that I cannot repeat them?” Harry said. She looked like shit, honestly, and she probably would look worse if she had that stupid blindfold removed. 

Yoo Kyung-Mi had never seen this character in the game, even in the demo trails….so why does Harry look so damned familiar? 

She watched Harry step forward from behind the altar, past the High Priest and Sir Palamedes. She walked down the steps, and stopped just a few feet away from the magic circle. 

“You know what you have done, Sister Esther. No…You are not worthy of being called a Sister of this Holy Temple. You are a heretic, a liar, and an adulterous beast who has dared to try and defile one of us by using an Asmodian Seed. Where and how did you acquire it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about-” That was when the pain began again. “You-” And again. Fuck, this hurts. It really hurts. 

“Please answer the question and do not try to be clever with your answers lest you actually enjoy being in pain.” Harry said peevishly. “You know what it is because you were the one who had implanted inside Sir Palamedes. Is this not true?” Harry raised her voice. “Were you affected by this wickedness, Sir Palamedes?”

Her precious bias nodded, his beautiful violet eyes hard and cold. “I was, Lady Harrowhark, and swear by the Oath of Fidelity that I was its intended victim. I dare not think what would have happened, if you had not been there to save me.”

“You heard him. Answer truthfully this time.”

So she did. She spat in the bitch’s face. “Allow me to ask you a question, Harry. Who the fuck are you to give me orders?”

Applauded gasps and murmurs bounced across the temple’s walls. One Sister fainted from hearing such profane language, having to be carried out by two of her closest Brothers. 

But Harry didn’t react. 

Instead, she withdrew a handkerchief from her robes pockets and carefully wiped away the spit. Once she was done, she pocketed the dirty rag. Then she lifted her hands up and moved them to the back of her head, untying the mother-of-pearl cloth. She pulled it down, and two eyes that sparked like a pair of sapphires stared right at her.  Sapphires. Eyes. Cosette, Yoo Kyung-Mi, felt her heart drop into her stomach at seeing those eyes. 

The eyes that belonged to the shadow. The eyes Young-Min said were so beautiful that they took his breath away. 

“I am Reverend Sister Harrowhark, God’s Beloved. I am the Possessor of His Eyes -”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY?!?” Kyung-Mi screamed. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, STOLE FROM ME, AND YOU HAVE THE GODDAMNED NERVE TO LEAVE A PIECE OF YOURSELF IN THIS GAME?!” 

“Heretic -”

“YES, I GAVE IT TO HIM! I GAVE SIR PALAMEDES THE ASOMEDIAN SEED BECAUSE I WANTED HIM! IF HE WERE DEFILED, HE WOULD HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO MARRY ME, AND I WOULD FINALLY BEAT YOU! YOU WERE ALWAYS MY SHADOW! YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COVET WHAT WAS MINE, YET YOU KEPT TAKING EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME! IS THAT A GOOD ENOUGH ANSWER, YOU BITCH?!” 

Harrowhark’s mouth closed, tightening into a thin line before she averted her gaze towards the choir pews, where three cloaked figures sat in silence. “Does this outburst suffice as a confession, Your Imperial Highness?” She asked them. 

The one on the right stood up, pulling back his hood and revealing himself to be, indeed, The Glorious Sun of the Helux Empire, Emperor Maximus IV. A tall, broad-shouldered man with golden hair and possessed one ruby eye. He had lost his left one in a war. That was all she knew about him. 

But seeing the  identities of his companions, once they pulled back their hoods, that brought Kyung-Mi’s muddled brain back to reality: her parents, Viscount and Viscountess Lovelace. Shit. Fuck. FUCK!

“It does. Words cannot express my anger and disgust at the thought that such a heinous crime would be enacted in the House of Aesir. Allow me, Your Holiness, to carry out her punishment here and now.”

Harrowhark frowned. “Your Imperial Highness -”

“I am already here, Your Holiness. And I have only exercised my royal authority once since I ascended to the throne twenty years ago. If it makes you uncomfortable to do it in the presence of the congregation, I am more than happy to privately announce these crimes in the palace’s interrogation chambers. It is your choice, Your Holiness.” He, the most powerful man in the Empire, lowered his head to Harrowhark. 

Harrowhark sighed. “I beseech you to not address me in such a manner Your Imperial Highness, nor to humble yourself in my presence. In the Holy Temple of Aesir, we are equal under His Eye. Please, raise your head.” The Emperor did. “In regards to the heretic…she must never darken the footsteps of these sacred grounds again, or anywhere else. What happens within the circle of nobility is no concern of mine. The church cannot be intertwined with matters of the state. We are from entirely different worlds, but we must work together to ensure that our people live in peace. Is this a satisfactory answer, Your Imperial Highness?” 

Kyung-Mi choked on her saliva. It would be awful to be separated from her bias, but to also have her silver spoon being taken from her too? She did not want to spend her second life struggling to make a living! She is supposed to be the most beloved person in this game! Everything is supposed to go her way, not Harry’s!

She watched in anxious anticipation as the Emperor, The High Priest, and her parents huddled together, speaking softly until they separated. The Viscount and Viscountess stepped to the side as the others stepped forward. 

The Head Priest glanced around the congregation, raising his arms as he spoke. “Cosette Lovelace, daughter of Viscount Lovelace. For your crimes and heresy against this most holy place, you are excommunicated from the Holy Temple of Aesir until the end of your days. May Aesir forgive you, because…in my heart, at this moment, I cannot bring myself to do so.”

He then stepped back, and the Emperor stepped forward. 

The Emperor inhaled a deep breath, closing his eye for a moment before addressing the congregation. As he did so, palace guards entered from opposite sides of the chapel near the altar. 

“I, Emperor Maximus IV, hereby use my authority in the Holy Temple of Aesir under the witness of all those in attendance. I condemn you to live the rest of your days in prison, in a cell with no windows. You tried to bring darkness to this sacred sanctuary, therefore, you will spend the rest of your days in darkness.” 

Kyung-Mi’s knees buckled, collapsing onto the carpeted floor as she stared at the Emperor in shock. No. No, this can’t be happening! I’m the heroine! I’m supposed to live a life of luxury! I can’t go to jail!  When she saw her parents descend down the stairs, her anxiety slowly dissipated into hope. No. Not yet! They love me! They wouldn’t allow their only child to starve on the streets like a beggar or rot until she was an old hag, right?!

CRACK.

Kyung-Mi’s face stung from the slap she’d just received from her mother. Quivering, she touched the reddening cheek, peering through the curtain of her blue hair at her parents. Her mother was sobbing quietly, covering her face in her hands as her father wrapped his arm around his wife’s quivering shoulders. 

“You are no daughter of mine.” That was all he said before he left alongside his sobbing wife. They left her. They fucking abandoned her when she needed him the most, these….these bastards! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HER? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO GO THE SHADOW’S WAY? IS IT SO AWFUL TO HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER OF HER OWN?!

Then she screamed. She screamed and kicked and cried as the Emperor’s guards tied ropes around her wrists, dragging her down the aisle, towards the doors. Kyung-Mi looked over her shoulder, tears spilling down her face as she stared at Sir Palamedes, hoping Young-Mi would understand she made a mistake and just wanted to be with him, please please save her. 

But he did not look at her with tenderness and devotion as he had in the demo version of the game. Sir Palamedes stood rigidly by Harrowhark’s side, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes cold and guarded. 

It was over. She had lost again. Fuck. FUCK!

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

Taglist: @sweetbatherodonkey @lxdymoon0357 @certifiedsimpinggalore @queenmimis @amidst-the-tempest @mochinon-yah @tonightwrites @yandere-dark-cupid @average-yandere-enjoyer @thatstrangesheep @faux-ecrivain @cassanderasblog @navierkalani

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere male #fem!reader #yandere #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #tw religious themes #cw religious themes #cw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #cw harassment #tw harassment #18+ mdni #mdni #minors do not interact #minors dont look #no minors please

[hwaightme]

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🩺 pairing: paediatrician!bf!seonghwa x neurosurgeon!gn!reader 🩺 genre: fluff, doctor au, established long-term relationship, festive fic 🩺 summary: in the early hours of a shared night shift right before christmas, the present turns into a gift, and seonghwa can't be happier and more in love 🩺 wordcount: 7.8k total 🩺 warnings/tags: slightly edited, the fluff is strong, simpery is real, two doctors with heart eyes, marriage, proposals, family, hwa is yearing, woo cameo, woo+hwa banter, yeo+yunho mention, mom+kid side ocs, needles/syringes, injections, hospitals, night shifts, unconventional marshmallow toasting, a lot of love and sharing life <3 🩺 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩺 a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas~ the idea for this was in the drafts for ages, reignited hardcore by @starrysvn(...the cameos hehet), and it feels right for the festive season~ much love! comments, reblogs, notes all appreciated

Clean and comforting. The poster-room of an office, personalised, and yet retaining all the professional qualities necessary. The gentle swaying of the tulle that transformed the twinkling of a myriad of skyscrapers outside and a magnificent deep navy and inky black star-filled sky into a soothing haze, the ticking of a clock adorned with illustrations from the doctor’s favourite franchise. There was a unity even in the multicoloured shelves and cupboards. Stickers, kindly left behind by particularly pleased, proud and excited patients turned into permanent decorations on the sides of the otherwise strictly uniform desk, bringing relief and encouragement to its occupant. The newest additions - a small desk Christmas tree that was decorated on theme with the rest of the space, and a couple of garlands elegantly hung on the top cupboards and above the tulle served as reminders that it was, in fact, the festive season, and celebrations were only a day away. Even so, healthcare could not take a holiday, and the hospital was busier than ever.

“Hey… do you like… Lego?”

It had been long enough since the beginning of the appointment, as Doctor Park Seonghwa had noted, but the little patient sitting in front of him was still refusing to succumb to the wrath of a ‘spooky scary needle that makes him go ouchy’. Seonghwa could not blame the boy though - if there was something he never did, it was to project a child’s behaviour outwards into adult societal expectations. As a matter of fact, he rarely did that for adults too. He never saw the point, nor did he wish to impose some alternative spin on reality onto anyone who he had the pleasure of meeting, especially his patients or their relatives. As L/N Junseo crossed his arms in disapproval, Seonghwa could not help but spin a tiny fraction on his stool that he used during appointments such as this, and sneak another piece of sporadic scrutiny towards the mother. As he had assumed, there was little comfort to be offered from her side - she was sitting in a corner across the room, fanning herself and sending worried glances in the approximate direction of both the doctor and her son.

So, he had no choice left. He had to pull the most powerful weapons out of his arsenal - inspired by the many pieces that served as baubles on his desktop tree. Seonghwa was grateful that he had the foresight to not unpack the disposable syringe before checking the kid’s tolerance. Judging by the smile that spread across the boy’s face, and the confused expression gracing his mother’s, Seonghwa knew he hit the jackpot and there was potential for him to catch a break if the appointment did not run over, and if he was lucky enough, perhaps the main reason behind his rush would be free too. The simple thought inadvertently crawled into Seonghwa’s mind, and he lowered his gaze to suppress a shy smile and return to being the amiable paediatrician that he needed to be.

“Now, mister Junseo, will you wait a couple of seconds for me?” After receiving his patient’s enthusiastic nods of approval, he spun around on his stool, and rolled towards the cabinet that occupied the majority of the right wall of his office.

Stopping himself from crashing into his desk with a fast hand, he opened one of the lower doors to reveal a series of colour coded and labelled trays, each one filled to the brim with even more vibrant hues, but maintaining a strict order. Pulling the first and then the second tray from the top, the doctor inspected the contents, and decided to give the final decision to Junseo, turning to him with a grin on his face.

“Dinosaurs or spaceships?”

“Spaceships!” just as Seonghwa had thought, this question broke through the storm clouds of doubt and fear, cutting right down to Junseo’s primary interests, some of which the young doctor just so happened to share – the only difference was that the latter had to also remember that he had a job to do, and that job involved convincing, or cleverly deceiving with good intentions, a little kid into a routine shot. It was hard not to wonder what your, his life partner’s, reaction would be if you were in this room with him, considering that this environment was probably the furthest a space from your natural habitat - the operating room, could be.

“A man of good taste I see. I mean, dinosaurs are cool too, but I will let you in on a little secret… I have matching spaceship band aids,” As he pulled out the tray that contained some pre-built spaceships, with the bricks being from a younger-child-friendly set, along with stray pieces that turned the set into the perfect cognitive and sensory exercise, Seonghwa took time to explain his actions to the boy. In a way this was not too dissimilar from the preparation of instruments for surgery, so perhaps you would find joy in this interaction to the same extent as him. He shook his head lightly, reeling himself back to the matter at hand.

Sometimes, Seonghwa pondered whether too much of his budget, and, on occasion, personal finances, went towards making his office be more of a playground than what one would imagine ‘a doctor’s lair’ to be – in his mind, that was your office, one that he visited enough times to memorise. An ode to modernity, with books and documents, diagrams and an anatomically accurate model of a brain with various labels - just what one would expect of a real doctor. But both fortunately and unfortunately, this was a style that Seonghwa would not attempt to achieve in his own office. There was a mat on the floor made out of foam puzzle pieces, there was every form of toy transport he could find, animals, dolls… he swore he appeared in toy stores more regularly than in the pharmacy at this point. But the joy with which his patients’ faces lit up was more than encouraging, reminding him that he was on the right path, he was doing well, and that everything was worth it.

“NO WAY!” Junseo yelled out, excitedly kicking his feet. The paper towels that lined the bench rustled slightly, the link between the sheets being stress tested – much like the mother, who appeared to be speechless, but at least no longer faint.

Seonghwa imagined that his present conclusions and responsive actions were not too distant from how teachers felt when they saw a certain type of action be executed by a child, and then saw its origins during parent teacher conferences. The conclusion had come to his mind on its own accord but resounded loudly enough for him to send a reassuring gleam to Missus in the corner, and observe her delayed reactions as she, evidently, was battling the instinct to throttle him to the ground and save her child from danger. How wild and fascinating the generational sharing of fears and burdens was. Seonghwa turned his attention back to the star of the show, who was eagerly waiting for the eloquently advertised, and much anticipated, spaceships.

“Yes way! And I can show them to you later.” Seonghwa responded with a chuckle, setting the tray next to the boy, making him turn to the side and better expose the arm that was to receive the intramuscular injection. Even though Junseo was now fully immersed in the toy provided, he still expressed his gratitude, forcing the man to use every ounce of strength in him to not melt.

“Thank you so much Doctor Park!”

"No, thank you! Lego is my favourite, you know, but if you picked dinosaurs, you could have heard my tyrannosaurus rex impression." He could hear some shuffling outside of the room, turning into a thud as he introduced his ‘special ability’ when it came to distraction tactics. It was straining, conducting all his appointments without a nurse, since quite a number had arranged to go on holiday for Christmas, including his favourite in the form of a tall man with the brightest smile and enough energy to power the whole building - Jeong Yunho. Was it a challenge for Seonghwa? Perhaps, but he was coping. Besides, would he really want anyone here with him except a certain someone who was not even in this specialisation?

"Awh... no... but that sounds so fun I wanna hear, I wanna hear!!!" The cute boy was practically begging, giving Seonghwa his best puppy dog eyes with a turn of his head – that would not do for the doctor’s mission, however, Junseo needed to be practically in a different realm for it to work.

"Could you attach this jet engine please?" In the softest voice he could muster, Seonghwa guided attention back to the spaceships, commenting on how well Junseo was assembling them. He infinitely admired the ability that children had to disregard common practices, ignore rules and simply create. As Junseo would get older, he would undoubtedly have to succumb to standardisation, but in the meantime, he could enjoy picking a wild palette of coloured bricks, not think about astrophysics when constructing the ships, and be perfectly satisfied with what he was crafting.

"Mhm..."

Using the moment of distraction, Seonghwa turned and reached for the hand sanitiser pump on his desk, cleaning his hands. With practised motions, as he returned to his seat in front of the kid, the doctor took out the prefilled syringe out of the pocket of his white coat, peeling the decontamination seal to fish the item out. He had a small window of opportunity and needed to act fast to seize it. From the other pocket, he produced a packet with an alcohol swab, carefully tearing it, as far away from Junseo as possible so that he would not be shocked by the smell.

"Now, Junseo, could you sit a little closer to me, so... oh thank you!" The child obediently shuffled, not taking his eyes off the Lego pieces. "You might feel a little cold on your arm, but don't worry I will roar that away, okay, you with me? Ah wait, how do we make that ship the strongest in the galaxy?" breath in, breath out. Watching the child’s movements so that he would not accidentally hurt himself. Lifting the sleeve of the t-shirt the Junseo was wearing ever so slightly, Seonghwa crept towards the bench on his wheeled stool, praying to every higher power that he would be done with this appointment soon, but retaining his professionalism. It was now or never.

"Imma show you-"

"Nyaaaaaaah~"

As soon as Seonghwa started, he was done, and the syringe was long hidden behind his back as he pressed a cotton ball to the area, though Junseo could not care less, having broken into a fit of giggles over the interesting interpretation of a t-rex. No matter how exhausted he was, this was one of the things the doctor lived for – having the ability to make medicine, doctor’s visits, and hospitals just a little bit less miserable for the little ones, something of a game or an adventure, him being of the opinion that these pocket-sized humans did not deserve to be exposed to the struggles quite yet. If it was in his power, he would have changed the ‘quite yet’ to never, but that was far too utopian, and something wiped out of him in first year of medical school. So, Doctor Park simply tried his best.

"DOCTOR PARK THAT WAS NOT A ROAR!!!" Junseo proclaimed, still giggling as he clutched onto a bright green brick. Seonghwa chuckled, sliding to the left to dispose of the syringe in a biohazard bin, stretching himself out so that he could still keep holding the cotton ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the mother beginning to come to her senses, the ‘high alert’ mode dropping to a more manageable, generally healthy parental worry.

"Then come on, show me what you've got. I bet you have a-"

"ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAR!!!" With him being startled by what he should have expected, he could not help but throw a glance at the other adult in the room, finding her surprised. Hands clasped together, she whispered ‘goodness gracious’, and upon finding out that she had a one-man audience, gave a sheepish grin and looked down. Seonghwa was calming down from his ‘performance’, the doctor, actor, caregiver and child-friendly comedian in him began to leave his body, giving way to a straightforward happiness of a man who could see that he helped out people in need.

"Wow now that is IMPRESSIVE Mister Junseo! Ah wait, could you hold this for me?” he gestured towards the cotton ball, and once the boy complied, backed away to get some more hand sanitiser. “We are done!"

"Huh? Wait... no ouchy?" genuinely confused, the toddler asked, dropping the Lego pieces entirely and blinking in slow motion.

"We scared the ouchy away with spaceships and your awesome roar, didn't we?"

"WE DID!! WE DID!!" With the cotton forgotten, Junseo was about to hop off the bench, his hands pressed into the dark grey material he had been sitting on, but before he could Seonghwa caught him, easily picking the boy up in his arms despite the weight that it put on him. After all, patients came first, and this was always a clear sign that he was trusted – besides, the kid did not have any other ailments, so a little hug would not hurt anyone, especially not Seonghwa’s soul.

"We did! I promised you a cool band aid too so... ah hold on let me... watch your head please." With Junseo still in his arms, Doctor Park ambled towards the other side of the office, closer to where the mother was now standing, to reach into one of the shelves and retrieve the packet of what he considered to be something akin to achievement stamps. A final well done from him to the patient, for being so courageous and letting Seonghwa poke them with a needle.

The rest of the appointment went by in a blur. The boy was safely back in his mother’s arms, sporting a colourful bandaid, babbling away about spaceships, quietly repeating Seonghwa’s dinosaur impression, and emphasising for the umpteenth time that ‘the injection actually did not hurt at all’, much to the mother’s delight. She looked to be on cloud nine as she held her bundle of joy, and even though he was bouncing on her lap to the point where the doctor would assume that she was in discomfort, the woman showed no sign, and instead gleamed at him, expressing genuine gratitude.

"So sorry for all the trouble and that I could not help in any way, please accept my-"

"No need no need! Junseo is such a sweet boy, and it was all his bravery in the end. I am just doing my job." He tried to assure her, flipping through the vaccination booklet she had provided and filling out the details of the shot. While checking the date just in case, despite him having a mental countdown to Christmas with the precision down to an hour practically built into his brain, he still noted the clock on his computer, memorising the time in order to figure out when approximately you would be done with the surgery you had arranged for this evening. Maybe he would have enough time to stop by your department, and manage to catch you there to ask about what plans for celebration you two would dare have in between busy schedules. His attention was guided back to the jovial duo on the armchair, as the mother spoke once more.

"You perform miracles, Doctor Park. Really. You are truly one of a kind! Before today I was convinced that he was wired to cry at every appointment..." she lowered her voice a little, just as Junseo turned away to pick at one of his trouser pockets.

"If you are worried about him developing any phobias and the like, I can recommend some amazing medical experts who can work with you and him?" Whenever anyone voiced a concern, he took it as part of his responsibility to respond wholeheartedly, and as such, once he completed the record, offered assistance. Perhaps this was also a safe zone for him, a removal from what otherwise would inevitably make his heart melt or ache. But to no avail.

"Oh no, no, I think I found the cure right here. Really, my husband will be so impressed about this!”

Husband. Happy family. There it was. Seonghwa felt the corner of his mouth twitch as he lifted himself off his chair, shut the booklet and returned it to the mother, and wife. It was difficult to convince himself that this was not jealousy tugging at his nerves and heartstrings, as the more he pondered the image of what had to be a perfect union, the dinners, the days out in the park, the little meet ups for lunch if either partner was otherwise busy… the domesticity got to him and made him want to slam the table in frustration. So, he did the next best thing, and clasped his hands behind his back so that he would not dare act out of line.

“Is that so?” he forced out, remaining composed as he returned the mother’s bows while she ushered her son forward and stood up to head for the door. He could not help but imagine the duo walking under the lights that adorned every shop, every street and coming home to their own tree, coming together as a small family in a cosy atmosphere. Similar routines, similar time off, the space to love and to live and to enjoy being ‘one’ to the fullest. 

“I think he will want to come with us next time, to meet you, really… of course if you don't mind us scheduling check-ups with you from now on?" meet him… so Seonghwa could see the whole assembly… Really, right in the moment when his head was filled with thoughts of you, he had to be reminded of just how adorable some aspects of paediatrics could be, to the degree of malicious irritation. 

He bet that the reason why you were so relaxed about your relationship was because you were not in direct contact with families and cute kids, for the most part. The closest you came to communicating with patients was in briefing, de-briefing and maintenance of their condition pre- and post- operation. He had to see the bad and good, the downs and ups, the rollercoasters and the memorable highs over long periods of time. Some of his patients he had known for so long, they were basically his relatives, and the personifications of sunshine that would rush to greet him, nearly stumbling over tiny shoes and sometimes barely reaching his waist, or even mid-thigh, restored his faith in the universe. It was exactly because he was aware of the downsides, and still desired this closeness and this next step with you, that he was cursing time itself for not allowing him to express this hope properly. Sure, you had discussed marriage, and both of you were more than committed to one another, but no words had been said about the part where someone popped the question. Was there ever going to be ‘the right time’? Especially when both of you were at the early stages of your medical careers, and were caught adrift in the chaotic shifts, training, exams and had to sacrifice yourselves for thousands who came through the doors of the hospital.

"Ah, whatever you would prefer, Missus Hwang. It would be an honour.” He squashed his nerves for the remainder of the appointment, and peacefully parted with the two visitors to KQ Hospital, wishing them the happiest holidays and for a stable recovery from the vaccination. 

Seonghwa remained standing in the corridor, his back propping the door to the office. Closing his eyes, he listened to the opening of the elevator, and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding once Junseo’s excited, shrill voice was muted by the doors. Gears moved into action as the machine carried the mother and son away from the paediatric ward. The doctor rolled his head in an attempt to relieve at least some of the tension that had built up from the back-to-back out-patient care, the abominable late nights, and the vexatious haze that plagued him in his own life.

It was going to be a long night. And he was barely a quarter of the way through his night shift; perhaps the winter cold and the shorter days were to blame for the melancholy mood. As he straightened himself up once more, Seonghwa instinctively reached for the phone that was hidden in the pocket of his black trousers, hoping for any kind of distraction. Checking the time, messages, whether you had even seen his text about the maintenance people coming to check the plumbing next week… any sign that there was a world beyond his job. But the communication flatlined, and he resorted to simply staring at his lockscreen: a picture of the two of you during that one vacation that you had managed to book together. The one where, three days in, both of you had severe work withdrawal, but thankfully laughed it off and soothed the pain by falling asleep in each other’s arms. That was what he missed. The simple things. If there was one thing he wished for this Christmas, it was for you and him to spend it together - no one else, no pagers going off incessantly, no family members intruding on your time, not even friends. He missed you, even though you were right there. Of course, he still felt blessed to be able to embrace you almost every time you two would be floating into dreamland - be it in the morning or in the evening, aside from when shifts did not align, but he craved more, always. Maybe he was being greedy, wanting for even more of your time. Nonetheless, he hoped that his readiness to sacrifice all of his for you would, at some point, result in his most romantic dreams, akin to castles in the sky, coming true. He wished to well and truly build a life with you. Seonghwa had never thought that he would pay so much attention to labels, but something about settling down officially, being together ‘in sickness and in health’, as he had heard in the vows at his friends’ weddings, was leaving him in a state of longing, constantly, until it was a permanent buzzing in his head.

"So... Doctor Seong-nyah-" rudely tearing through his daydreams, a familiar voice startled the doctor, causing him to gasp and shove his mobile phone into his pocket with panicked haste.

"Wooyoung, don't test me, you are not my patient." Seonghwa gasped, and retorted with sudden venom, spinning to face the man who, evidently, had been loitering around in the corridor behind him for a lot longer than he would ever accept.

"But I want a sticker or a bandaid please~"

But the action only resulted in a stupor, as right there, hands in pockets, the ghost of a mischievous smile on perfectly tinted lips, was his favourite person. Doctor L/N Y/N, neurosurgeon, and definitely the one who had changed his brain wiring to short circuit every time he saw you. Before Wooyoung got any cheekier due to the lack of a response and the less than discreet gawking from Seonghwa’s end, he forced out a random commentary; anything to keep himself from going into cardiac arrest.

"You keep stealing my Disney princess ones anyways!?"

"Can't help it. Besides I've seen you snatch the toy sword so consider us even."

A light blush was threatening to coat his cheeks as he gazed at you, mesmerised by your cheerful reaction. Without a doubt you were imagining the scene, and had you been alone, would coo at ‘just how endearing’ it was. This was not the kind of ‘break between appointments’ that he was imagining, and while you were here, before him, very obviously free, Seonghwa was questioning whether this was a manifestation of luck or a curse.

"That was for safety… and… uh… hello my love.” he mumbled, while you smiled at him, and gave him a gentle wave, already anticipating that even if you were to speak, you would crack and reveal what you had been planning - a major step forward that had been plaguing your mind at almost all hours, even in rare snippets of quiet. Technically, what you had said to Seonghwa was true - it had been an operation, just of a different kind. Careful to not let the mandatory Santa hat you had tugged on your head as part of your department’s senior residents’ effort to ‘keep the spirits up’ slip, you adjusted it to be more snug, and rapidly returned your attention to your boyfriend, who was intently studying you, admiring every detail as though he had not seen each one a million times over.

"Y/N here found the dinosaur impression cute, just so you know." Stuck in a limbo between locking himself in his office and throttling Wooyoung to the ground, Seonghwa chose neither and was simply amazed at how you could remain so nonchalant.

"Were both of you… listening to the… but that is not-”

You and Wooyoung exchanged a knowing look, causing suspicion to rise in Seonghwa. He was not fond of it. Not in the slightest. There was something brewing, and that glint in your eyes was less than reassuring. What were you hiding from him? A million questions a second ran through his mind as he subjected you to scrutiny. First off, you had said that the surgery could be challenging. And yet he could not detect the slight furrowing in your brows, the slouch, the pursed lips that you normally had if you were monitoring a patient in critical condition.

"They were around the department, and I just so happen to know that you are a certified clown so..." Wooyoung began, purposefully winding the taller man up until he was ready to break the Hippocratic oath and cause harm.

"Says the person who can literally replace the fire alarm with his-"

“This is why you should follow my methods and do the whole ‘energy drink and coffee” cocktail before those ghostly long shifts, I tell you-” crossing his arms, Wooyoung appeared to be enjoying every moment he spent teasing his fellow colleague, ignoring how you were starting to get impatient, glancing down the corridor and back to the bickering friends.

“How even-”

"Well, I would more than like to consult the lovely, charming clown please, because I have a whole circus on my hands and need some help.”

That was all that was needed to regain all attention back. Seonghwa gave Wooyoung one last sidelong stare before focusing on you, attempting to figure out just what you were scheming. He knew better than to pry, however, if there was anyone in your relationship who was an expert in dissecting, be it literally or metaphorically, it would be you. That was exactly why he stood and waited with bated breath, fingertips dancing on his upper thigh. In trepidation, the young man’s mind replayed every shared moment with unfathomable clarity, leading him to wonder if this mischievous glint in your stunning orbs was further foreshadowing, much like your sudden announcement that you would be working the same hours as him today, and upon questioning passed it off as “a bit of Christmas luck”. 

“Right…” Wooyoung’s voice appeared distant, barely audible against the thrum of nervousness and lighthearted suspicion. Running a hand through his wavy, neatly parted long hair Seonghwa gave you a lopsided grin before following you down the corridor and giving his colleague an amiable wave, along with a cheerful call of “see you later”. His friend had the whole night ahead of them - much like you and Seonghwa. Except, unfortunately, you and your partner were floors, departments away. Not that far in the grand scheme of things, but far enough for Seonghwa’s heart to start hurting when he least expected it.

Just like now, despite you being within arm’s reach, the proximity reminded him of just how much of a luxury such moments were, and how, should anything go wrong, you would metaphorically evaporate. The beeping of a pager would be enough to make you or him leave, that damned device having to be strapped on and prioritised above everything else. As less and less time remained until Christmas, the probability of it going off climbed higher and higher, so every step was a risk, and every scheduled consultation or out-patient care call when Seonghwa was mandated to hand off his monitoring duties to another resident - a temporary salvation.

You were in your scrubs, and were sporting a standard issue doctor’s coat, ever so professional. Though your back was facing him, Seonghwa could easily imagine the identity card clipped to the pocket above your heart, along with the embroidered hospital name and emblem, and your department. Neurosurgery. The top of the top, an art and a science so complex that Seonghwa was in awe of you eternally. How you dedicated your life to the mystery behind a person’s eyes, and how you could heal the terrifyingly enigmatic organ with astounding success. Determined, passionate in all ways, that was what had drawn the enamoured man to you, and what had made him fall deeper and deeper and vow to stay for as long as you would allow him. Would you be fine with him tagging along, just like this? Would you be willing to walk in the same stride?

“Hwa,” turning your head, you exclaimed your boyfriend’s nickname and then turned back to scan your pass to let you both through to another corridor, “how has your day been so far, lovely?”

“It’s been good, not too bothersome. Last appointment was a vaccination - not sure how or why the literal holidays were chosen for this, but who am I to judge,” looking around, Seonghwa responded. Quickly, he caught up to you, and in a matter of moments you felt how his fingers intertwined with yours, and his palm was pressed against you, as though a mirror image. Jigsaw pieces falling into a perfect union, your hands, stilled in harmony. 

“Maybe not everyone wants to skip school,” you mused, poking fun at the times when your boyfriend did just that - at least before university and him choosing to major in medicine hit like a truck; in the blissful middle and high school days, so easy in retrospect - a fever dream. 

“I’d love to hear what the little patient would think about that one… but really, Christmas? Why would you run the risk of having side effects over Christmas?”

“That’s true… but I bet you made the appointment a really good time. In fact, from what I have heard I am sure you did,” you teased, making Seonghwa squeeze your hand and click his tongue in pretend annoyance.

“Hey, I’m trying my best here-”

“-and you are making the world a better place,” you cut him off, squeezing back and urging him on, closer and closer to your final destination. 

Seonghwa shook his head, bewildered at the sudden outburst of affection. You were normally not the kind to get too sappy at work - if anyone, it was him who would gush about the simplest things to you during a brief lunch break, while you would be nodding along with a grin on your face. You were excited about something, without a doubt. What it was, however, was beyond him, so he let you lead, while playfully questioning your behaviour.

“What’s gotten into you? Did you forget to put the plates back in the cupboard at home?” he squinted, slightly relieved when you chuckled but still left without a concrete answer:

“Can’t I praise the love of my life every once in a while?”

“You can, but-”

“-Besides, Yeosang, you know, my friend from paediatric neurosurgery, he said kids who you had treated talk about you non-stop. Maybe you should pay some of them a visit. If their treating doctors allow it, of course.”

Eyes widening, Seonghwa barely noticed you slipping away from him to grab a large bag you had stationed by a heavy exit door, and in bewilderment was concerned if he should believe your overwhelmingly kind message. All those little lives he had the honour of getting to know and trying his best to help… remembering him? It was at times like these, even the hardest days were worth it. For the present and for the future. He returned to reality only when he felt a gust of freezing cold air hit his form and goosebumps ran over his skin. Your proud, loving smile greeted him and encouraged him to walk on. When Seonghwa attempted to query your spontaneous adventurism, you waved it off - forward, only forward. Making a note of something fluffy in texture peeking out of the bag, he hoped for it to be at least a scarf; a doctor should know to not expose themselves to the risk of colds. 

You led Seonghwa to one of the many secluded areas of the hospital - forgotten by most staff, this portion of the roof was the prettiest at night, when the lights of surrounding high rises and the rest of the metropolis stretching out as far as the eye could see all glimmered like a blanket of stars laid down on the precious planet. The city, forever awake, bustling with activity. A hand brushed against his upper arm, and he turned his head to see you holding his coat that he swore he had left in the call room. Gingerly, the article was in his grasp, and yet another question was travelling for you to tackle:

“Now when did you get this? I know I did not just leave it lying around.”

“Mhm, call room. Coat hanger. By the door. I am very aware. I picked it up on the way.”

“Sounds like someone had a lot of time…” trailing off, Seonghwa put on the coat, watching as you did the same. Apparently, that was not all that was in the bag, and with each item that was revealed, his surprise grew and grew.

“Just enough to prepare a little something,” in one swift movement, you caught your boyfriend off guard with sudden Santa hat attack - nearly covering his eyes with the white fluff, previously styled hair shooting out in different directions from under the accessory, you still deemed the mission successful, and giggled, elaborating: “now, we match.”

He could not not love you. Much like the nights in December were dark and his exhales turned to steam that was to be whisked away by the wind, he was confident in the fact that he was born to love you, and only you. It was funny to think that years ago he thought of other kinds of forever, only for them to fall apart in months. Seonghwa mused about different realities, but was never afraid of losing them until inevitably happened; not because he did not care at all, but because his heart was never in the right place. Now that his heart was home, it was clear. Most of all, the clearest sign of the truth that belonged to your relationship, was the subconscious fear, continuous and blended into every note of adoration. It was in his love for you that he found what it meant to be afraid to lose. 

The young man did not want to lose these priceless moments - how you would make an elaborate plan and surprise him with it. How out of nowhere, before his very eyes was a blanket that you laid down on the roof, a portable heater that emitted a glow akin to that of a campfire, and a large wool throw that he assumed you wished to use to keep you both warm. That shine that he swore was coming from something heavenly within you as you dragged him to take a seat, your adorable cooing over him as you wrapped the two of you tight with the throw, and scooched until your body was pressed against his. On instinct, Seonghwa’s arm was around you, and he leaned in until he could smell the faint, comforting aroma of your strawberry shampoo. Staring into the heater, he imagined a gentle flame, falling into a beautiful daydream - a world where there was just you and him.

This was a long-standing fantasy of his, a picture of which he had painted for you many times while you counted stars on the ceiling of your bedroom, drifting off to sleep just before the chirping of the birds, the dawn bidding you farewell and wishing a good rest. Somewhere nowhere, in a place with no name, surrounded by no one and nothing, you two could stay for a little while and indulge in simplicity. An escape from the daily stresses, a dive into the daily bliss of being enamoured and having found one’s soulmate. In a little cottage that you two could rent out, with a little spot outside so you could pretend like you were properly camping, Seonghwa prayed for time in an earthly utopia. 

“I couldn’t find sticks, So I hope you are fireproof,” a marshmallow was held between two delicate fingers right before his eyes. A large, white cloud and a hint that you might have been listening a lot more intently than you had let on. 

“I- are we- are we about to be toasting marshmallows?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” the doctor followed your lead, stretching out his hand to the heater, imagining the marshmallow roast away; if Seonghwa were to squint hard enough, he could almost see the colour change.

A giggle escaped you, and you huddled into him, at peace due to the safety which you always said he naturally oozed. Without fail you told him how he was a walking spring day, a blessing, a shining star. The more you said it, the more confident he became in accepting the words as truth, and then, one day when he caught you admiring him from afar while waiting for him to finish rounds, acceptance turned into a fact. By loving you, and by letting you love him, Seonghwa learned to love himself. Thoughts of fond memories prompted him to give you a gentle poke, making you lift your head in perplexion. This, however, was quickly dispelled by a the sweetest kiss, deepened by a gentle hand that found purchase on the nape of your neck.

Lips so familiar, so addicting; each time they met was the kindling of a miniature paradise. A journey through time, to end only in the future, the present turned into a miracle in which he could immerse himself, all of his senses attuned to you. The touch of your lips was the rays of a sun in May, kind and soothing, blossoming into the finest beauty and the most satisfying serenity on verdant green leaves and gorgeous flowers. The only thing he could hear was the breeze creeping across the not quite as picturesque cement and metal, and the ghost of a mumble of “I love you” as you parted for air, still close enough to share it.

Lost in your eyes, Seonghwa wished he could never be found. He was willing to endlessly draw the maze that trapped him in them, adapting it to formulate a personal infinity. Eyelashes, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, every blemish and freckle and scar were all priceless to him. You, in all your personal divinity, a universe that so intently studied him, loved every part unconditionally and invited him in to do the same. A symbiosis, a system of two stars orbiting one another - a gorgeous celestial waltz was how he saw you and him. Under the night sky full of constellations, you two were still the brightest. Seonghwa’s heart was full. He ever so softly let his hand slide to the side of your face, thumb gliding slowly over the skin of your cheek. Once, twice - perpetual motion, each one marking another second in which love grew stronger, and the yearning for his dream more intense. If only he could put it into words. And yet, courage only allowed him to muster a mere two which were far too general, ambiguous:

“Thank you.”

“I am glad we could do this,” you answered, sharing in his delight. You did not need anything else, seeing past the mellow, pleasant triviality.

“I think the only downside is that now I want to do this all the time,” his hand guided your head into the crook of his neck, so you could sit side by side, looking out into the urban expanse. Silence weighed on you, until a long-awaited suggestion reached Seonghwa’s ears.

“Well… we could. At least for Christmas.” 

“As if we will be taking days off, yeah.”

“Who says we won’t?”

“I- huh?” 

You took his hands in yours, and shuffled for you to be face to face. Much to your astonishment, when it came down to the critical moment when you would start being blatantly obvious in your intentions, you were not as anxious anymore. Everything felt more than right, and the comfortable quietude resembled the globe holding its breath for you. 

“I have an idea,” your boyfriend was intrigued, but doubtful. He had hopes, sure, but he knew better than to keep them up, “so… ahem, well, for us it is standard practice to not schedule anything major on holidays, just in case, and thankfully I could… reschedule some things…”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded along, raising his eyebrow. Your hands held his more tightly on their own accord, shaking a little as you spoke.

“Well, so, yeah, you know how the head of… the head of paediatrics is a big family person right?”

“Yeah, comes with the job I suppose, and?” tongue darting over his lips, Seonghwa began to sense what you were getting at, and he swore there was not enough oxygen to sustain him, and a dizziness settled over his mind, clouding it, leaving behind only you, you, you-

“Hm… well… I think they would be more than happy to let a new family celebrate together… yeah?”

“...Yeah…yeah?”

“So what I’m saying is-”

“Will you marry me?”

“Beat me to it,” gleaming, you pulled him in, stopping a mere few millimetres away, seeking approval.

Hints of tears welling in his deep brown eyes induced your own. Pressed forehead to forehead, you memorised every tiny detail, how you felt, how Seonghwa felt, how you were both fondly mumbling ‘yes's and ‘always’s and ‘I love you’s over and over again; vows uttered at the beginning of a new chapter of a miraculous life, in perfect harmony.

“I’m sorry for the ‘no ring’ situation-”

“I’d marry you with paper rings,” Seonghwa responded at the speed of light, quoting one of the many songs that both of you loved to listen to, and would blast in the living room many times over, “how did you even plan this-”

“Don’t bash me, but Wooyoung was an accomplice-”

“Of course he was,” he flicked your nose with his and guided you into another kiss, your hat sliding away and almost falling to the ground, saved only by Seonghwa’s reflexes. Smiling against your lips, he only deepened the sensual expression of devotion, parting simply to confess,

“To think we were rehearsing the same thing but I was too scared to say it.”

“You are too precious. And I’m sorry if I’m too scary, angel,” you winked, earning an amused, airy laugh.

This could not be the furthest from how Seonghwa felt; the notion of you terrifying him was hilarious. Everything but you was the issue. You were his safe haven, his clarity. The one to whom he had already given away all his hours, be it in closeness or in his dreams both in the day and night. You were his and he was yours, and now that the one change he had been begging all the goodness in the galaxy for finally happened, he wanted to shout this from every rooftop, starting from this fated, isolated spot that must have been made for just you two. 

“No, I am just more certain that you can read minds,” he gestured to the heater, the untouched marshmallows, the stars, and finally stopped at you, alluding to what was to be your proposal, turned mutual.

“Just because I poke around brains-” you began, only to be stopped by unparalleled cuteness in the form of a scrunched up face and a tiny smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, you aren’t even a cardiologist and you stole my heart-”

“Park Seonghwa, cease the flirting, we are getting married-” playfully, you slap his shoulder.

“Oh, you only saw the beginning,” a wiggle of the eyebrows. Your very soul fluttered at the sight of his megawatt grin, and the innocent peck left on your cheek.

“...I hope so,” your wish. To cherish the many sides, colours, shades, edges, angles of your spectacular Seonghwa.

“It’s decided. I’ll hit you with all the festive pick up lines starting tomorrow.”

As you settled back into an embrace, regarding the golden glow of your inner oasis that transposed onto all, previously dark, surroundings, you unwillingly played the role of the realist.

“Ask your department head first.”

“For a blessing?”

“No, silly, to confirm your freedom.”

“Yes, Doc’,” in jest, your fiance saluted you, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his waist, brushing your jaw against his shoulder.

“Page me after."

“I will page myself across the hospital to tell you.”

“Awh, my Seonghwa Claus and my present in one,” absent-mindedly, you reached for a stubborn strand of his hair to push away, and twirled it around your digits, careful to not ruin the perfect balance of the themed hat beneath which they tried to establish their own order, threatening to disturb your elated angel. 

“My future spouse- oh I’ll be saying this so often.” 

From one day to the next, under the sun and moon, with many seasons passing by, you became the time that you seeked and previously fought against. As you looked to one another for more and more in your lives, it was destined that eventually, the idea of any other path would be simply impossible. At the end of a year came a new beginning, witnessed by the observant stars and by the long winter night.

“Me too, my love, until I can call you my husband.”

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[wintaerbaer]

ringing in the year (jjk)

summary: Your six-year relationship with Jungkook certainly hasn't been devoid of the occasional mishap. But when Seokjin accidentally winds up with a gift meant for you, Jungkook's proposal may wind up being the biggest blunder of all.

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

rating: generally sfw, sans a handful of swear words

genre: established relationship au, pure fluff, bit of a crack fic

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this was so fun to write, and a bunch of the details were inspired by real life events! thanks to @animeniacss for brainstorming this one with me and sprinting me through it. wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year! <3

MASTERLIST

Jungkook knows he’s messed up several times over the course of your six-year relationship.

There was the time in college when he wanted to cook you dinner and, upon realizing that he didn’t have a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine, tried to pry it open with a screwdriver and sprayed most of it all over the kitchen and himself.

There was the time when he ate suspiciously old-looking dumplings out of the fridge for lunch in spite of Hoseok’s warnings and spent your anniversary date that night going in and out of the bathroom.

And of course, there was the time when he'd insisted that it was fine for you to get frisky in the living room because Jimin wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Only to realize, oh wait, it's Saturday, the second the man himself walked in the door with both Yoongi and Taehyung in tow, all three getting quite the view of you and Jungkook on the area rug.

But this right here, he thinks, has got to be his biggest fuck-up of all, watching Seokjin peel back the wrapping paper on his white elephant gift to reveal a white mug that says, in large black lettering, “WORLD’S BEST WIFE.”

“Awww, Jungkookie,” he coos, raising the mug up above his head to show it off. “You’re proposing?”

He is, in fact, trying to propose, but certainly not to Seokjin. Every New Year’s Eve since sophomore year of college, your friend group has gotten together to party and do a holiday gift exchange that consists of a white elephant round and a general present swap.

Jungkook, wanting to propose amongst your friends and on what you’ve always said is your favorite day each year, had intended to give you the mug and propose later in the night. But, it would seem, he must’ve mixed up the two presents, putting your mug into the white elephant pile instead of the travel mug he had meant to contribute.

“Ah, Y/N,” Seokjin is now sighing, “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

You're giggling, wrapped in a burrito blanket that was courtesy of Hoseok. “It's okay. I understand that your love can't be denied.”

“Actually, hyung,” Jungkook finally gets the courage to pipe up. Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. He might be sweating. “Can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“You need to talk now?” Hobi asks, wearing a t-shirt that also happens to be a collage of Seokjin's face–his white elephant offering. “It’s Yoongi’s turn. Let’s finish the white elephant, and then you can talk.”

“But–”

“I want Namjoon’s,” Yoongi says, snatching up the gift and tearing away the paper to unfurl a large black Snuggie. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“You got a Snuggie?” Jimin jeers in Namjoon’s direction. “Lame.”

“Lame? It’s funny,” Namjoon argues.

“Yeah, if it was 2008.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” Yoongi slides his arms into the sleeves, settling into the couch and eyeing the rest of the group warily.

Jimin rolls his eyes at him. “No one is going to steal it, hyung.”

“Nobody better fucking steal it.”

The game actually finishes with no steals. Namjoon opens up your gift (a KFC-scented fire log) and Jimin and Taehyung choose each other’s only to find out that they both bought Bob Ross Chia Pets. With the game over, your group devolves back into party mingling–Yoongi dozing off on the couch in his new Snuggie, Jimin and Taehyung heading immediately to the dining room to get started on their chia projects, and the rest of you trying to decide which party games you’re going to play as the night goes on.

But when Seokjin stands up, declaring that he’s heading to the kitchen to get a drink for his “fun new mug,” Jungkook jumps to follow him, bringing along the slab of granite with twenty dollars taped to it that he’d opened (“I’m renovating my countertops,” Yoongi had explained).

“Hyung,” Jungkook hisses as Seokjin reaches into the fridge for a beer. “I need that mug.”

Seokjin turns, sizing him up in the glow of the refrigerator. “Then you probably should’ve picked it.”

Jungkook huffs in exasperation before stepping in closer, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Listen, I am trying to propose to Y/N tonight.”

“With a white elephant gift that anyone could’ve gotten?” He clicks his tongue, scolding. “That’s just terrible planning, Jungkookie. And proposing with a mug? A little boring.”

Color rises to Jungkook’s face, giving his cheeks a natural blush. “We were watching reruns of The Office when I kissed her for the first time. And it wasn’t supposed to be a white elephant–you know what? It doesn’t matter at this point. I just need the mug back.”

He reaches for the counter, intending to steal the mug away, but Seokjin gets there first, cradling it to his chest with a pout. “No, it’s mine. I opened it, and I’ve already imprinted–”

“We never should’ve let Y/N show you Twilight. Here, look.” He raises the granite sample and money in his hands, offering it up. “I’ll give you Yoongi’s gift and the gift I was supposed to be giving for the game. You’ll get two.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What was your original gift?”

“A travel mug that says, ‘Weird to be the same age as old people.’”

He gets a wrinkled nose in response. “Well I like this one better. The other one calls me old. This one says I’m the best wife ever.”

“Oh my God, hyung. You’re not a wife!”

“I’m not old either!”

Jungkook throws his arms up in frustration, practically launching his hunk of stone across the room. “Then what am I supposed to do? You’re really going to ruin my entire proposal?”

“Hmm.” Seokjin lifts a hand to his chin, the other still clutching the mug to his body. “Thirty-two-race drunk Mario Kart?”

“Hyung.”

“What? You want the mug–this is how you can get it.”

Jungkook scrubs a hand over his face, accepts the inevitable. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it.”

“Hooray!” A clap of his hands as Seokjin practically skips from the kitchen. “I’ll get us set up!”

By the time Jungkook drags his feet into the living room, Seokjin has already gathered a crowd, your friends piling onto the couches and armchairs to watch the upcoming event. Surely they’re expecting a slaughter; Seokjin is notoriously a Mario Kart ace.

“You looking to get drunk, babe?” you ask, settling into the spot next to him on the couch. “There are easier, less humiliating ways, you know.”

He pouts, eyebrows squishing together. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbles, immediately forgiving you when you press your lips to his.

“For luck,” you say, giving him one more peck before sitting back to watch Seokjin hand him a controller, shot glass, and bottle of soju.

“Pick your character.” He plops onto Jungkook’s other side, selecting his own racer on the screen.

“Peach? Really?” Namjoon teases.

Seokjin shoots him a look. “I don’t wanna hear that from a basic-ass Mario main.”

Jungkook, meanwhile, chooses Donkey Kong, and loads up the first map, Peach and Donkey Kong lining up in their pink and yellow go-karts at the starting line.

“May the best me win,” Seokjin says, a split second before the light goes green.

He does win the race. And the next one and the next one. And Jungkook is three shots in before he even knows what hit him, fingers wrapped tightly around the controller.

“Not too late to back out, Jungkookie,” Seokjin jests, nudging him in the ribs. “At least leave with your pride intact.”

But before Jungkook can even respond, mouth already half-open in indignation, you wrap a soothing hand around his knee, massaging lightly.

“You've got this, Kook. You can do it.”

The sound of your voice puts him at ease almost instantly, and he ignores Seokjin, loading up the next track. This time, he does his best to relax, letting the feel of your palm siphon away his anxiety.

This is for you. He can do this for you.

The race is close, their cartoon avatars neck-and-neck until Jungkook manages to gain an edge at the very last second and blow through the finish line first.

“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. “The Kart King lost?!”

“Calm down, it's one race,” Seokjin says. But he shifts forward on the couch as he takes his shot of soju, clearly miffed. “We have twenty-eight more to go. I like my odds.”

Seokjin wins the next one again, celebrating with a whoop, but Jungkook goes on a run after that, winning three in a row so they're tied. And once the thirty-second race has been driven, Seokjin has won sixteen, Jungkook has won sixteen, and they've each drunk two bottles of soju apiece.

“TIEBREAKER RACE,” Seokjin slurs, swaying on his feet. He's played the last dozen games standing up, claiming it “helps with the turns,” whatever that means.

“I think you two have had enough,” you say, patting Jungkook lovingly on the arm. “Just call it a tie and leave it there.”

He jerks away, stretching his arm out like he thinks you're going to try and take the controller from him. “No, Y/N! I need that mug!”

Your lips pull down into a frown. “What mug?”

“I think Y/N is right, you guys,” Namjoon chimes in. “You both need some water.”

“Everyone shut the fuck up. I'm trying to sleep,” grumbles the Snuggie blob.

“ONE MORE RACE!” Seokjin yells, insistent. “FOR IT ALL! FOR THE MUG!”

“Again, what mug?”

But you don't get an answer. Instead, Jungkook shouts, “FINE! RAINBOW ROAD, ASSHOLE!” and everyone's eyes fixate on the screen, eager to find out who will emerge victorious.

Both characters rip off the starting line, Seokjin quickly obtaining a mushroom power-up that gives him a speed boost and comfortable lead. But after Jungkook lucks out on a green shell throw, causing Seokjin to spin out of control, he takes the lead as the first lap ends.

“C’mon, babe!” you cheer, Jimin and Taehyung joining in in their desire to see the Kart King tumbled from his throne.

Jungkook holds his lead for most of the lap, but Seokjin takes it back after a couple more mushroom boosts and a red shell. The final lap is tight, the lead going back and forth and back and forth until all hope seems lost as Seokjin begins to pull away on the last leg…

Only for him to cut the final turn too closely, allowing Jungkook to bump him right over the side of the track and into space before blasting across the finish line.

The room erupts in cheers, Jungkook leaping to his feet with a shout even as Seokjin falls to the floor with a scream of anguish. You stand as well, trying to give your boyfriend a hug, but you’re shocked when he moves away from you instead, preoccupied with something on the dining table.

He crosses the room–dodging Jimin and Taehyung, who are now flossing over Seokjin’s prone body–to grab the “WORLD’S BEST WIFE” mug and triumphantly raise it in the air before stumbling back to where you stand both perplexed and amused by the scene before you.

“This,” he says, clumsily pressing the mug into your hands, “was supposed to be for you.”

“World’s Best Wife?” you ask, heart hiccuping as you begin to have a suspicion. “Like Michael Scott’s mug?”

“Yes!” The word feels heavy moving off of his tongue, and he suddenly regrets not being sober for this. “Because uhhhh…I have this for you, too. Shit, wait.”

He fumbles around his pockets, panicking until he finds the ring, slips it out of his pants, and drops to his knee with a graceless thud.

“Ow, crap. Y/N.” He takes your hand, and in spite of the absurdity of it all, in spite of the fact that part of the room is now fawning over you while the other part is either sleeping or on the floor, you feel tears pricking your eyes.

Really, you couldn’t think of a more perfect scene.

“Y/N,” he begins again–slowly, like his words need to be corralled, “I love you. So much. And I know I may sometimes be forgetful or foolish or careless–sometimes I might accidentally spray wine all over the kitchen or ruin a proposal because I gave Seokjin the wrong present by mistake–but I just…love you.” He blinks, thoughts drifting away from him as the soju continues to take its toll. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I’m saying is even making sense, but…I find I don’t mind having those moments as long as you’re there with me. I’m fine making a fool out of myself if it’ll make you smile or laugh so…” He hoists the ring up just a little higher, eyes hopeful. “Marry me?”

A leaping sensation takes off behind your ribs as you gasp, “Yes, Jungkook. Of course, yes.”

For someone who’s drunk, he surges back up with incredible speed to capture your mouth in a kiss, dragging your body to his and swaying you side-to-side.

“Congratulations, you two,” Yoongi says through the applause of your friends–even Seokjin managing to clap his hands like a seal from the floor. “Now can I please get some fucking sleep?”

a/n: please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting if you enjoyed :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic

[arminsfavoritepookie]

CONVERGENCE | Satosugu x Fem reader

the fact that two or more things, ideas, etc. become similar or come together

TAGS: Modern au (college), Artist/muse / predator-prey/ manipulation, DARK CONTENT

SYNOPSIS: Popular, beautiful yet harsh - they're the most desired men on the college grounds, but to you, they're your private muses. Your final project, it needs to be impactful, profound and impeccable - and Gojo and Geto personify all that. Yet, maybe they don't.

By investing your time with them, snapping photos, feeling the warmth of their skin, and capturing every soft exhale, you start to see their imperfections. It wasn't anticipated that you'd comprehend their inherent flaws, yet they constantly draw you in. You lean on them for artistic stimulation - at times, though, the boundaries become obscure, the paint smudges, colors bleed, and emotions conflict.

Perfection isn't a part of their nature, yet they are ardently dedicated to presenting it to you. They see you as a delicate lamb they struggle to protect, rather than harm... to preserve, rather than taint. You are nothing more than a plaything for these lions, a puppet swaying on a string around their fingers. They make great efforts to conceal their distorted versions of perfection from you, trying not to burst your naïve image of them. After all, can an artist truly thrive without their source of inspiration, a hunter without their pursuit? A butcher refusing to carve? Can’t let you expose their flawless imperfections, to transform you from being the hunted into the hunter.

Chapter one - Muse

Two close friends, one usually reticent and the other overly vocal. One soft, the other somewhat coarse. Perfectly coiffed long, black hair contrasted with tousled white spikes. Night and Day. Perhaps you should have reconsidered your silly idea for them to model for your photo shoot, an innocent idea proposed to the most favored, condescending, handsome men on campus. But, truly, what could possibly go wrong?

Would anyone read this (please comment) 😞

#jjk fics #jjk headcanons #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x black!reader #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #geto x reader #geto x you #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk modern au #getou suguru x you

[scotianostra]

The Bell Rock Lighthouse, off the coast of Angus, was first lit on the 1st of February 1811.

Over 200 years after it was first built, the Bell Rock Lighthouse still stands - proudly flashing its warning light. Eleven miles out to sea off the east coast of Scotland, it is a remarkable sight - a white stone tower over 30m (100ft) high, rising seemingly without support out of the North Sea.

In fact, it is precariously poised on a treacherous sandstone reef, which, except at low tides, lies submerged just beneath the waves.

The treacherous reef on which it stands is in the North Sea, between the Firths of Forth and Tay, some 12 miles south of Arbroath and 14 miles south east of St Andrews. The red sandstone outcrop is 435m long and the lighthouse is founded on the main section, 130m long and 70m wide, and only 1.2m above the surface at low water spring tide.

The reef was known originally as Inchcape Rock or Cape Rock. According to tradition, in the 14th century the Abbot of Aberbrothok (Arbroath) placed a floating bell on it to warn mariners, hence its present name. Legend has it that sometime later a Dutch pirate removed the bell but he was later shipwrecked and perished on the same reef. The rocks were dangerous to ships sailing along the east coast of Scotland and by the end of the 18th century the need for a lighthouse was clear.

A severe storm in December 1799, in which about 70 vessels were wrecked, prompted Stevenson to propose a beacon-style lighthouse on six cast iron pillars.

Stevenson submitted a scale model of his idea to the Northern Lighthouse Board in summer 1800 — accurate physical modelling was to become something he often employed subsequently on important projects.

Stevenson drew the inspiration for his lighthouse design from the Eddystone Lighthouse, off the coast of Cornwall.

Built 50 years earlier by John Smeaton, this was a milestone in lighthouse design. Shaped with the now classic wide base, tapering to a narrow tower (Smeaton had modelled it on an oak tree he had witnessed defying a storm), it was the only off-shore structure that had until then managed to survive for any length of time against the constant battering of the seas.

Stevenson elaborated on this design. His lighthouse would have to be higher, over 30m (100ft), if it was to survive the cruel waves of the North Sea. He also incorporated more efficient reflectors, using the latest oil lighting technology, which would make his beacon the brightest yet seen.

But the Northern Lighthouse Board rejected the plan outright; in their eyes Stevenson was attempting the impossible, and besides, it was going to cost the huge sum of £42,685 and 8 shillings.

The rock had to claim another victim before the Board revisited Stevenson's plans. In 1804 the huge 64-gun HMS York was ripped apart on the rock, with the loss of all 491 crew. The NLB could delay no longer. Britain's most eminent engineer, John Rennie, was invited to give his advice.

Rennie had never actually built a lighthouse, but the Board was so impressed by his record that he was given the job of chief engineer. Robert Stevenson was to work as his resident engineer.

History does not record Stevenson's reaction to the news, but it must have come as a bitter blow to this ambitious young man. What history does record is that the structure on Bell Rock came to be known not as Rennie's but as Stevenson's Lighthouse.

Work started in 1807 and what followed was a four-year epic, with work severely restricted by tides that on occasion submerged the rock’s surface to twelve feet. The offshore activity only proceed during the summer months, and even then only with difficulty. Poor weather in the summer of 1808 allowed only 80 hours of work were completed.

To avoid time lost in shuttling workers to and fro Stevenson built a temporary wooden “Beacon House” on the rock and this served as both a base of operations and living quarters for fifteen men. As this structure (see illustrations) was also exposed to storms during the construction period, residence on it must have in itself have been a nightmare. During the winter months Stevenson kept his crews busy ashore, dressing the individual granite blocks needed for the tower. The total number required was some 2500 and all were drawn to the dockside by one of the unsung heroes of the project, a horse called Bassey.

The lighthouse came into service in 1810 and was to fulfil its purpose very effectively. Between then and 1914 only a single ship was lost on the rock, a steamer called the Rosecraig that ran aground during a fog in 1908, fortunately without loss of life.

The light has now operated for 212 years and has undergone many significant and ingenious upgrades and changes, some of them even being undertaken by non-Stevenson engineers. It was a manned light for 177 years, the lives of those keepers on their temporary Alcatraz being a source of equal fascination

The lighthouse was manned until 1988, when the station turned automatic and the last men were withdrawn.

#scotland #scottish #history #North Sea #lighthouse

[kmgkmg]

SOMETHING YOU KNOW - JEON WONWOO

word count: 2.7k...

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

synopsis: you and wonwoo have been rivals in your company since you both got hired. what happens when this dynamic shifts?

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, enemies-to-lovers, officeworker!wonwoo

warnings: alcohol mention

rating: pg-13

a/n: second fic for my absolute fave @yukihikos​! i was listening to blood orange while writing this fic hence the title, this was inspired by something you know by blood orange! 

You drag your feet walking into the office yet again, knowing that he will be there. It’s not like you had planned to make an enemy on your first day as an intern, but Wonwoo Jeon had basically declared his hate for you when you both were assigned to the Marketing team. You’ve seen your fair share of resting bitch faces, you yourself were considered the one with a rbf in your friend group, but Wonwoo’s glare was definitely more than just his resting expression. You can clearly recall the face of pure disdain he had when announced that you would be working together for the next two years, fighting for a permanent position in the company. 

You had tried to be civil towards him, even friendly at the beginning but each attempt was instantly blocked by his cold one-worded replies. To make matters worse, each time a superior came near your desks to inquire about an ongoing project or client, he would always - without fail - suddenly act as if he was the closest person to you. Wonwoo’s two-faced personality made you flustered the first time you encountered it, but the more you worked with him, the more your resentment grew, badmouthing him to friends so much that he earned the nickname of snake amongst them. You couldn’t even trash talk his quality of work because he was damn good at his job. 

As you had become determined to treat Wonwoo the same way he had been treating you, your department, and soon enough the whole office, knew of your rivalry. Many people had even placed bets on when an actual physical altercation between the two of you would happen. You had been seen bickering with him on numerous occasions, especially over the little things such as who was able to get on an elevator first. Everything was a competition to be won. Most of the time your coworkers would simply roll their eyes, used to the childish arguments, and laugh since you and Wonwoo never let your disagreements get in the way of working together. That is until it was the day to present your potential projects to the CEO of Carat Co., an opportunity that doesn’t come around often. You had spent countless hours on your presentation and were confident that your idea was innovative and fresh, two aspects that the company valued greatly. Wonwoo had gone first but you truthfully hadn’t paid attention, purely out of dislike for the guy. Going up to the podium you felt your heart race, slightly ready for presenting but also nervous since it was your first time seeing CEO Seungcheol Choi in person. 

“...And that is it for my proposal. I hope you enjoyed my presentation and consider all of the benefits that would come with accepting my idea.” You walk back to your seat in the meeting room and a fellow intern friend, Soonyoung, next to you gives you a pat on the back and thumbs up while a manager simply smiles at you, boosting your confidence. The CEO excuses himself for a small break since he received a call during the presentation and didn’t want to interrupt it, but the break gave you some comfort since you were able to collect your thoughts and calm your nerves. CEO Choi is nice but presenting in front of the CEO is bound to be a nerve-racking ordeal for anyone. But the happiness doesn’t last long as you can hear the oh-so familiar sound of Wonwoo’s irritating chuckle. You look over to his chair and see that he is looking at you and you raise your eyebrows at him to show your annoyance. 

“Wow, that was certainly some proposal.” He manages out between his chuckles and you can’t help but grow more annoyed at his aloofness. What made him think he was almighty? You entered into the company at the same time and he had no reason for all of his confidence. Sure, he was good at his job, but so were you. If anything, you would think that you are more suitable for the company than him. 

Through gritted teeth you impatiently ask, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Just as I said L/N, it was certainly some proposal.” He stops chuckling to look at you with a serious expression and before you’re able to prod him more for an explanation, CEO Choi walks back into the room, causing you both to stare back straight ahead to greet him. “Let’s continue the presentations, shall we?”

Seven presentations later, the interns were finally done showing their proposals. CEO Choi called for another break to decide with executives and other higher ups whose idea would be chosen to represent this cycle of interns. You tap your feet, anxiously awaiting the results. Even though Jeon’s comment still bothered you, you weren’t going to make that apparent and smiled with your intern friends. The CEO walks back into the room once again, with a piece of paper in his hands. Each intern is hanging on the edge of their seats for him to read the announcement. “The intern whose project we are going to execute for this period is…Y/N L/N.” 

The reality of what was just said doesn’t set in and you find yourself just clapping along with others until Soonyoung repeats, “Y/N your proposal was chosen!” You finally come to and thank the CEO and superiors, still shocked that your idea was picked.  The superiors walk out soon after the CEO, leaving the interns to converse alone for a while, to share feedback on presentations and such, and you all use it as a time to chat with your friends. Wonwoo immediately goes to his friends Mingyu and Jihoon, as you go to your friends Soonyoung and Chan. Soonyoung motions chugging drinks with his hand, “Celebrations are in need, yeah?” He asks you both and you and Chan laugh and agree. 

“Cheers to Y/N for killing that project proposal!” Chan brings his glass of beer up in the air, hinting for the rest of you to raise your glasses to the toast as well. 

“Cheers!” You all shout and you decide to let yourself get absolutely wasted tonight. You earned it after all the blood, sweat, and tears you spent on the proposal. It was a national holiday on Monday anyways and you had a three-day weekend, what could go wrong?

After a combination of lychee martinis, mojitos, soju bombs, and much more, you were properly wasted. You rarely got drunk, usually being a parental figure of sorts to your friends, but you knew that they would want you to fully enjoy yourself and your accomplishments. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely going to need to have you drive us home.” Hansol laughs to Minghao, sipping on his hard lemonade before tending to a crying drunk Soonyoung. Minghao nods his head in agreement, watching you complain sloppily to Chan about the usual annoyance, the snake.  

“I just don’t get how a person can be so mean! Does he have a vendetta against me? You know what, enough is enough, I’m going to call him and find out.” You complain to Chan before messily grabbing your phone out of your bag. Minghao’s eyes widen and he tries to stop you from calling your evil coworker he had only heard of, but it was too late. Within two rings Wonwoo had picked up, surprised by the loud chatter of what he can only assume to be a restaurant or bar. “Y/N? Did you mean to call me?”

You drunkenly giggle at his bewildered state, this was a rare occurrence for Wonwoo. “Yes, in fact, I did.”

Wonwoo, collecting himself at the fact that his intimidating coworker is calling, asks another question, “So what’d you call me for?” 

“There you go again with being curt. Who told you to be so rude to me? I tried to be nice to you but you hate me so much! It’s like you want us to be enemies forever-Oh Minghao!” Wonwoo hears rustling in the background and soon enough he’s met with an unfamiliar voice. “You’re the notorious Wonwoo, huh? Come to CHEERS Pub and finally show the face of the guy that Y/N won’t stop complaining about.” With Minghao’s agitated invitation, the call ends and Wonwoo looks at his black screen in confusion over what had just happened. That was the most relaxed he had heard you be, and although he had already been in his apartment, planning to game for the rest of the night, meeting your friends piqued his interest. But your words kept lingering in his mind, you thought he hated you? Surely that can’t be true. He throws on a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers before heading down to the garage to drive to CHEERS Pub. 

“I did not just call him.” You curse at yourself as your friends confirm that you did, in fact, call the coworker that hates you. Ending that conversation was enough to sober you up for the night, this is why you don’t get drunk. 

Minghao attempts to comfort you by saying, “We’ll see if he comes though.” Yet, almost as if he knew it, speaking of the devil, Wonwoo Jeon walks in looking for your table. You duck, attempting to hide yourself, but it's too late as he recognizes Chan and Soonyoung as well, waving to them before sitting down. Minghao, Hansol, and you all glare at Wonwoo, Minghao and Hansol, being friends outside of work who had never seen him before. You watch as he catches up with Chan who tried to remain neutral with work relationships, and he seemed so different from himself at the office. He was wearing a relaxed outfit but he still looked sophisticated, and since when did he wear glasses? 

“What are you doing there?” Minghao nudges you and you jump at the sudden question, breaking your focus from Wonwoo. 

“What do you mean? I’m clearly glaring at him, my most hated coworker.” You retort.

Minghao tilts his head in doubt, “You’re definitely staring, I don’t know about glaring though. Are you sure you hate him because your eyes are oozing with lust.” 

“They are not! He just looks…different outside of the office.” 

Minghao nods, slightly content with your reactions to his questions and leaves you alone before tapping Hansol’s shoulder and motioning to the door, Hansol confused but taking the hint. “Alright Jeon, we met you, and it was certainly surprising that you didn’t have horns growing out of your head or something. But Hansol and I have to go work on our last pieces for our fashion collection so we’re going to have to call it a night.” Wonwoo looks up at the already standing friends of yours and extends his hand to shake their hands before they made their exit. You realize that with them gone, the very drunk Soonyoung and Chan are left with you and Wonwoo. 

“Wait, Minghao was our ride! He only had half a glass of wine.” You gasp, suddenly realizing that you have no way home unless you all wanted to pay for a ridiculously expensive Uber back. Soonyoung whines at this statement as well, but Wonwoo reaches in his pocket and reveals car keys. “I mean…I drove here, I wouldn’t mind helping coworkers out.” You and Soonyoung sit with your mouths open, surprised that Wonwoo Jeon was offering you, Y/N L/N, help. Two other coworkers were involved, sure, but he could’ve left you to find an Uber by yourself. 

“That sounds great! Thanks Wonwoo.” Chan smiles and Wonwoo returns the smile, you had seen him smile countless times at work, but why did he look so handsome right now?

“Soonyoungie has to go to the bathroom!” Soonyoung declares and runs back into the pub, leaving just Wonwoo, yourself, and Chan. 

“Damn it, I have to go with him otherwise we all know how he acts at company dinners.” Chan sighs. 

Wonwoo laughs thinking about Soonyoung stripping in the middle of a sushi restaurant last year and nods for Chan to go help Soonyoung. “Should we head in the car and wait for them?” You nod, still thrown off at Wonwoo’s kindness. You open the door to his passenger side and sit down, closing the door and leaving the two of you to sit in silence. The silence lasts for a couple of minutes before he finally breaks the silence, “I don’t hate you, you know.” His comment makes you knit your eyebrows in confusion and you turn to look at him, “Is this because of what I said in the phone call? I’m so sorry about that, I swear I’m sobered up now. I get that I crossed a professional boundary that I shouldn’t have.”

“I mean, I did say what I did because of your call, but I’m telling the truth. I don’t hate you. I guess everyone at the office except me thinks we hate each other’s guts? I thought it was just playful banter and healthy rivalry between coworkers.” Wonwoo shrugs. 

“But then, why did you act so arrogant when I was done presenting, did you think I did that bad?” You ask.

“No! I was in shock, I didn’t realize my chuckles came off as condescending but they were incredulous chuckles if anything. I knew you were better than me at this job, but your presentation was a wake up call. I mean it was so good.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his head and your anger begins to dissipate as you realize you had misunderstood him the whole time. “To be honest, I was intimidated by you since we were assigned to the same team. I knew you were amazing at your job and I’m used to being the best, so I guess your skills scared me. I didn’t want to get close to you and have you realize how lacking I am compared to you.” Again, you’re shocked by Wonwoo’s confession and you can’t help thinking how hot he looks. Why was he sharing all of this? There certainly had to be a twist. But you couldn’t stop staring at him, admiring how attractive he looked in his hoodie, wearing his glasses. It had to be the alcohol still in your system, how could your opinions about him change so drastically in one night?

“Well then, we can be friends starting now. I was only rude to you because I thought you hated me.” You smile warmly at him, and he feels the weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that you won’t think he hates you anymore. “And, I’m sorry to say this but do you know how insanely hot you are right now?” The change in the conversation leaves Wonwoo flustered and he looks closer at you to realize that you had been staring at his lips for quite a while now. Before he can say anything, you lean in across the car console to kiss him. Your lips are met by his, Wonwoo still stunned, closes his eyes before kissing you back. He brings his hand up to gently cup the side of your face and support the back of your neck, going slow but still causing tingles to run through your entire body. Kissing him was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you continued for a while before finally stopping to return back to sitting in both of your seats. “That was…” You begin.

“...amazing.” He finishes. You look at each other once again and laugh at how much things can change in a day. 

“I guess we’re more than just coworkers now?” You grin. 

Wonwoo smirks back, “I guess we are.” 

“Wooooooo workplace romance!” You and Wonwoo jump at the noise from outside and see Chan holding Soonyoung upright while they’re both waving, clearly witnesses to the two of you making out. Wonwoo opens his backseat doors and gets out to help Chan sit Soonyoung down and you both are red from being caught in the act. You knew that Soonyoung and Chan would immediately tell Minghao and Hansol in the groupchat, resulting in endless teasing, but that didn’t matter now. You had made amends with Wonwoo Jeon and something you know for sure is that he didn’t hate you.

#caratwritersclub #kpopccc #wonwoo #wonu #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen #svt #jeon wonwoo x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo oneshot #enemies to lovers wonwoo #something you know - jeon wonwoo #kmgkmgoriginal

[milfthrawnuorodo]

Safe in my Arms (Ascendancy!Thrawn x Reader)

Pairing: Ascendancy!Thrawn x Female Chiss Reader 

Summary: Csaplar, the capital city of Csilla, has been attacked by alien warships. You are a Syndic of the Mith family, forced to seek shelter from the attack along with the rest of the Syndicure. Thrawn, senior captain of the Chiss Expansionary Defence Fleet, is able to easily defeat the enemy targets, but finds himself struggling with something new: the sudden feelings of concern and panic at the thought of you in danger. These feelings are a first for Thrawn, always so confident in battle, seldom so confident when it comes to his feelings for his lover. When you two are reunited, Thrawn is forced to confront his feelings head on. His relief at seeing you alive and well quickly turns into something almost animalistic, and passion ensues, followed by the dawn of a crucial revelation. 

Warnings: Sliiiight angst, but I promise it all works out. SMUT!!! Oral (female receiving), P in V, feral Thrawn is it’s own warning, fucking on a countertop (will I ever let him fuck in the comfort of a bed??? Only time will tell). And watch out because this ending is FLUFF CITY. Like Goddamn call this bitch cotton candy the way it makes me so wet and then absolutely MELTS me. (too much?? Yeah, probably). 

A/N: So the original idea for this came from my head canon’s with my Chiss Syndic OC, Theta, which can be found here. I did originally post this as a Thrawn x Theta, but I know how beloved a solid Thrawn x Reader fic is, so here’s the compromise. Sigh,this fic is so self indulgent it should be a crime. But I hope you enjoy it!

This fic is spicyyyyy so 18+ only, minors do not interact. 

_______________________

The aroma of fresh caccoleaf was the only thing getting you through this never ending meeting. You gingerly took a sip, cherishing the slightly sweet flavor as you forced yourself to focus on the argument at hand. The Syndicure was in full session, meaning your days had been consumed by meetings just like this, speakers for various families vying for exchanges and favors to bolster their own needs above others. 

“What we are proposing would completely revitalize this meager farm area and turn it into a beacon of prosperity, attracting people from all around the Ascendancy, which could boost the local economy and present other long-lasting positive impacts. If you’ll look at the document that has been shared with each of your questises–”

The Ufsa speaker hadn’t even finished his obviously well-rehearsed speech before a representative from the Chaf family made her own grievances known. “That land rightfully belongs to the Chaf family,” she butted in emphatically. “You’ll have to pry that land straight from our hands.”

It took all your years of experience to contain your eye roll. You were proud of your position, honored by your duty to both your family and the Ascendancy, and, yes, you lived to serve your people in any way possible. But you also had a tendency to get frustrated at how selfish and self-serving members of the Aristocra could be. Your whole mission as one of the few female members of the Syndicure was to inspire unity amongst the families and encourage compromise and support over supporting self-serving needs. Though, with so many of the Aristocra being dead set in their old-fashioned ways, you more often than not felt like you were fighting an uphill battle. 

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, preparing to interrupt the argument which was clearly not making any headway, when a resounding alarm began to blare throughout the meeting room. The room was silent for a single heartbeat, before the Syndicure erupted into noise and chaos, each person trying to speak over the other to figure out what was going on. A voice projected over the loudspeaker.

“This is an emergency. Please remain calm and make your way to the shelters beneath the Cupola. I repeat, this is an emergency. Please remain calm and make your way to the shelters beneath the Cupola ”

The announcement hadn’t even finished before people were scrambling towards the doors and filing down the hallway towards the emergency exits that would take them to the shelters. You stood from your seat, making sure to grab the questis from the table before turning to navigate the throngs of people. A quick scan of the room told you that a majority of the Aristocra were well and able to take care of themselves. However, your eyes landed on a lone straggler, an elder from the Irizi family, struggling to make haste towards the exit, having long been forgotten by members of his own family in their own rush towards safety. Without hesitation, you crossed the short distance between you and loop your arm in his, wordlessly offering him your support. A look of surprise flitted across the man’s face, but was quickly replaced by a nod of respect and gratitude before leaning on your for support as you both made your way to the exit. This image, two rival families coming together to support each other in a time of crisis, this was what being a member of the Chiss Ascendancy was about: above family ranks, above political rivalries, above all else, you were all Chiss.

Joining the rest of the speakers, syndics, and various members of the aristocra in the shelters, you found an empty seat, getting a moment to collect your bearings for the first time. You spare a look down at your questis as a barrage of notifications lit up the screen. You could hardly process the words, having to reread the same sentence multiple times. 

Csaplar, capital of Csilla, is under attack by alien ships. Seek shelter immediately. 

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had dared attack the Ascendancy. It certainly hadn’t been in your lifetime, and from the looks of the faces around the shelter, you decided it most certainly hadn’t taken place in the lifetimes of even the eldest members of the Syndicure. You furiously refreshed your notifications, hoping for another update, but there was none to be found. With a worried sigh, you crossed one leg over the other in an attempt to get comfortable. “Stars only know how long we’ll be stuck down here,” you thought to yourself.

“Alien warships,” a nearby Syndic scoffed. “And they have the audacity to attack us?” His voice increased in pitch to emphasize his incredulity. 

“I’m sure the expansionary defense fleet has already lasered them to stardust by now,” another Syndic reassured. 

The words settled like a lead weight in your stomach. Thrawn. The adrenaline, which had just begun to wear off, peaked again and you worked to control your breathing. He was supposed to be coming back from his mission today. You had just spoken over holovid the night before once Thrawn had retired to his quarters, and you had been looking forward to having him planetside with you. Now, with this latest attack, if he was in the middle of it…your thoughts trailed off into the unknown. You knew it wouldn’t do any good to panic now, but the thought of Thrawn being up there, facing off against three enemy warships was enough to get your heart racing all the same. 

_______________________

Thrawn stood on the bridge, staring out the viewport at the sight before him. The alien warships were gone, blasted into rubble too small to even make a dent through the atmosphere. Always the calculated and stoic Senior Captain, Thrawn had kept a level head throughout the unexpected ordeal. The Springhawk was returning home from its mission, coming out of hyperspace just outside Csilla’s gravity well, when the foreign ships began firing on the planet’s capital city. It took less than a minute for the Chiss ships to return fire, and within fifteen minutes the battle was over. Thrawn stood motionless, staring into the empty space where the ships once stood, a sudden anxiety settling into his bones. His chest felt tight and your name fell off his lips in a silent plea. He knew you were there, in the capital. He knew the aliens had to be targeting the capital city–it was the most logical conclusion. Unfortunately, it was also the conclusion that sent an unfamiliar wave of panic through Thrawn. He forced himself to take exactly one deep breath, steeling himself, and forcing his feet to take him back to the Captain’s chair. “Continue course to Csaplar,” Thrawn announced, thankful to hear that his voice didn’t betray an ounce of the worry that plagued him. “The likeliest conclusion is that you are fine,” he thought to himself in an attempt to regain his internal control. You have to be fine. 

_______________________

The defense force had you waiting two hours in the shelters, to be sure that no further threats arose. Two hours you spent sick with worry about what was going on in the skies above. You fully believed that Thrawn was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, and the Ascendancy as a whole was far safer for his role in the expansionary defense fleet. But that didn’t mean you never worried about him every time you knew he was going into a dangerous situation. More than anything, it was the not knowing that was tearing you up the most. You tried to distract yourself with your colleagues, who, in typical syndicure fashion, all seemed to be trying to one-up each other in outrage, as if they were personally defending the ascendancy’s honor. If there was one thing that could bring together the Aristocra, it was a common enemy. 

Shortly past the second hour mark, you got the all-clear to evacuate the shelter. There would be a briefing with General Ba’kif in one of the meeting halls, and it was clear the Syndicure would be out for blood, demanding answers that may not even be available yet. As the sea of individuals rushed to assault the general with their questions, you strode right past the door of the meeting room, instead heading straight for your office. You had just shut the door behind you when you realized you weren't alone.

Thrawn stood in the middle of your office, and the familiar sight of him in the black uniform was nearly enough to bring tears of relief to your eyes. 

At the first sight of you, relief flooded Thrawn’s body and for the first time in over two hours, he felt as though he could breathe again. It took all of two strides for Thrawn to close the distance between you, his strong arms taking you into his grip, pulling you to his chest. You gripped him just as hard, breathing in the familiar scent.

You stood like that, embracing each other for several heartbeats. “I’m relieved to see you unharmed,” Thrawn’s soft voice broke the silence. You tilted your head back, looking into the eyes of your beloved. “Thrawn,” you started, but your voice broke, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You forced a deep breath before continuing. “What happened?” With a final press of his lips against the top of your head, Thrawn stepped back and motioned for you to take a seat as he began to recount everything they had found out over the last few hours. 

_______________________

That night, You rinsed off the last of the dinnerware, passing the dripping plate to Thrawn, who methodically dried it off and set it amongst its freshly clean counterparts. The dinner had been a simple affair, but you cherished these nights the most. They were too few and far between. Though, you supposed you were somewhat in luck–the estimated repairs for the Springhawk were to take between four and six weeks, and you’d soak up every ounce of time together you could get. 

Thrawn had been unusually quiet tonight though, and you watched as he gripped the edge of the countertop, clearly lost in thought. Thrawn’s focus shifted as a pair of soft arms wound their way around his midsection. “Tell me what’s bothering you, love,” your voice was barely above a whisper. Up on your toes, you pressed a kiss to Thrawn’s neck, “And don’t bother denying it. You know I can read you as easily as a data cylinder,” you quipped, trying to ease the tension. 

With a small sigh, Thrawn turned to face you. His lean body propped up against the countertop, arms crossed at his chest, and though he was looking at you, you could feel that his gaze was far away. 

“There was a moment today, after the attack,” Thrawn started, then paused, thinking over his words. “I had a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.” You waited patiently through another extended pause, giving Thrawn what you hoped was an encouraging nod.

“As soon as the battle was over, I was hit by this strange sense of terror. There was this sudden, overwhelming dread, and I was convinced something had happened to you.” Thrawn paused, his throat working. “I don’t know what I would have done. What I’d do if–” Your features instantly softened, and you interrupted the thought, stepping up on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to Thrawn’s lips. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, pulling away momentarily. “I’m fine.” You pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’m okay,” you reassured, murmuring against his lips, and it was as if upon hearing those words, feeling your soft lips against his, something within Thrawn broke. His hands were off the counter, gripping your waist, pulling you closer to him as his lips crashed against yours, gripping you in a fierce kiss. You hardly had a second to react before Thrawn picked you up, twisting your positions so he could place you on the countertop, not even breaking the kiss. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, though you certainly weren’t about to stop him. Thrawn’s grip on your hips tightened as he deepened the kiss, pulling you to the edge of the counter. Suddenly, you understood where Thrawn was coming from. The relief at having him here, the knowledge that you were both safe, both together, it was enough to have you mirroring his intensity.

Your hands were desperate, clumsily trying to undo Thrawn’s uniform. Stars damn all the regulation zips that made these things so damn hard to remove. Eventually, Thrawn took pity on you, stepping back to remove the rest of the jacket, discarding his undershirt as well, letting both fall to the floor. You had only a moment to appreciate the toned, muscular skin, biting your bottom lip as you took in the view, and then Thrawn’s lips were back on yours and your fingers went straight to tangle themselves in his hair. 

“I need to—“ Thrawn gasps out between kisses. “I need to taste you.” 

You nodded your head fervently and spread your legs, leaning back on your hands as Thrawn pressed sweet kisses along your neck and down your still-clothed chest. Pushing up your skirt, you lifted yourself just enough for him to slide your damp panties down your leg. Thrawn let out an audible groan. “I do believe you’ll be the end of me,” he growled in a low voice, before falling to his knees. 

The sight of Thrawn on his knees before you was almost enough to push you over the edge. Thrawn slid your legs open, resting them on his shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your core. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could even beg for more, he dove right in. 

He ate like a man who had been starved for days, unable to get enough. A single finger joined his tongue, and left you squirming on his counter. Your hips thrust up into his face, a second digit joining in, stretching you. He curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot deep inside you, and stars danced behind your eyelids. “Thrawn!” you exclaimed, panting. His fingers moved faster, harder, expertly dragging your orgasm from you. “Thrawn, I’m going to—“ before you could even finish that sentence, your orgasm ripped through your body. Your back arched, cunt tightening around his fingers. His tongue lapped up your juices, which only prolonged the orgasm. Gasping for air, you slowly came down from her high, coming to just in time to spot Thrawn trailing soft kisses along the inside of your thighs, working his way back up to kiss your face. Thrawn pressed himself up against your soaking core, and you could feel how much he enjoyed that experience as his rock-hard member pressed against your sensitive mound, eliciting another moan from you, his name dancing on your lips. “Thrawn.”

“I need to feel you,” he moaned against his kiss. “I need to be inside you.” His kiss was frenzied, his need was unmistakable. You had never seen the man so undone, and you could hardly believe it was on your behalf. It felt like a dream. All you could manage was a breathy “yes,” in response, but it was all the approval Thrawn needed. 

Without missing a beat, Thrawn’s hands were on his belt, quickly undoing it, his pants falling to the floor soon after. You let out a sigh as he freed his cock and gave his member a rough couple pumps. Your mouth watered at the sight of it–thick and long, and deliciously veined, as if it was designed purely for your pleasure. You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction as you took in the sight before you: 

Thrawn, his typically meticulous hair now a disheveled mess, his impressive member in hand, and a look of absolute feral need in his eyes. 

Thrawn held the tip of his cock, teasing your opening. Even when he was overcome with need, he still took the time to savor this moment. In a moment of impatient desperation, you thrust your hips up off the counter, which Thrawn rewarded with a swift thrust of his hips, his cock finally filling you to the brim. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust. A breathless moan of approval from you is all it took for him to lose himself. 

His thrusts were hard and his pace was quick. He needed this. He needed to feel you beneath his fingers, to know that you were safe in his arms. You threw your head back, the pleasure radiating through your body. In and out, in and out. Thrawn’s breathing was labored, letting out breathy moans. His pace quickened, and he could tell you were nearing another orgasm. Your cunt tightened around his cock as you neared her edge, and Thrawn let out a gasp and another moan, your name on his lips. It was enough to send you over the edge once again, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer into you. Feeling your pussy pulse around his cock was just enough to cause Thrawn to lose any remaining composure. “Fuck,” Thrawn grunted, grabbing your hips tight enough to bruise, thrusting his hips even harder. With a final groan, Thrawn’s hips faltered and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside you.

Thrawn pressed his forehead to yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. He loosened his fingers from their iron grip on your hips, and he was surprised at the slight shake that unsteadied his hand. “That’s new,” Thrawn remarked to himself, still perplexed at how thoroughly you had undone him. He was enamored with you. His hands absentmindedly trailed along your side as he pressed tender kisses along your neck and jaw, still soaking in your scent. He paused when he reached the apex of your neck and he relished the feel of your pulse beneath his lips, further proof that you were alive and well. 

“I love you.” The words tumbled from Thrawn’s mouth, his deep voice barely above a whisper. You froze beneath his touch. Even Thrawn seemed momentarily taken aback by the words which he hadn’t even meant to say out loud. But with every moment that passed, Thrawn realized how true they were. He was in love with you. And, if he was being honest with himself, he had been for quite some time. “I love you,” you whispered back, the softest smile on your face. Thrawn couldn’t help his smile as your lips met again, but this kiss was different: full of passion, yes, but something softer. Love. 

“Damn,” you breathed out, breaking the kiss after several moments. “Maybe warships should attack the ascendancy more often,” you said with a playful smile on your lips. 

Thrawn bit back a growl and, with a scowl, took you into his arms, lifting you off the countertop. “Don’t even joke about that,” he said in a low voice, immediately followed by a soft press of his lips to your temple. Thrawn started towards your bedroom, wondering what exactly he was getting himself into, but knowing that he was in too deep to turn back now. 

#thrawn x reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #mith’thraw’nurodo #thrawn hc #thawn x you

[feelbokkie]

[2:47 PM]

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: fluff drabble

pov: 2nd person

description: Your coworker Denise is back on her bullshit and Minho is your ultimate ride or die. Inspired by the last text in the Random texts with bf!Minho.

pairing: Minho x reader

warnings: swearing

word count: 201

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

"Why are you home already?" Minho asks as he watches you walk in the front door.

"Took a half day." You mumble, putting your things on the dining table and joining him on the couch.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He pulls your head down and places it on your shoulder.

"Denise," You groan.

"What did the wicked witch of the office do to my baby this time?"

"Remember that solo project proposal I've been killing myself over for a month? Bitch stole the file when I went to the bathroom and presented it as her idea. And the worse part is, she made it so I can't even prove her wrong."

"Is she still at the office?" He asks suddenly.

"Min, baby, I love you, but you can't fight her."

"What do you mean I can't? I have 2nd belts in both taekwondo and martial arts." He scoffs.

"That's not what I mean and you know it. I know you can kick her butt." He presses a kiss into your forehead.

"Want to go egg her house?"

"That might make me feel better."

"I know a place where we can get rotten eggs."

"I don't even want to know. Let's go."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Permanent Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you

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[try-set-me-on-fire]

Fic Writing Review 2023

Words and Fics

107,074 words published to ao3

1 fandom (9-1-1)

Most recent: I’m still standing in the same place where you left me standing

Longest fic: not counting the short fic collection it’s where all of the people dancing and clapping would great me with such warmth (15k)

Top 3 by Kudos

pick me, choose me, love me (trapped Buck and Chris)

all my life, there you go (collection of soft prompts)

maybe fall in love (first fic posted for the fandom! It’s a hot night in LA…)

Personal Favorite

I’m actually very fond of a lot of them but I’ll shout out All the work that needs to be done aka Bobby dies fic sorry Bobby I just think I did good work here…

Upcoming Projects for 2024

Oooobh I have so many wips…. I feel like I need to finish season 7 fight fic before the new season comes out and blows it out of the water (possibly literally with that promo…), but nurse Eddie my beloved… quilt shop au… proposal fic my languishing child…. Literally any of the other ones I’ve ever talked about….

That said I was thinking about how it’s weird I’ve never made either a Buddie adopt another kid or Buck obtains a child fic, I love making up children for characters…. Maybe that’ll get added to the slate…

And of course we’ll see what inspiration the new season brings…

Rules and Tags

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tagged by @daffi-990 and others but it’s so far back in my notifications and hard to find my deepest apologies

Tagging (if you already did this or tagged me I’m sorry) @burins @shortsighted-owl @shitouttabuck @rewritetheending @chronicowboy @homerforsure @eddiebabygirldiaz @malewifediaz @rogerzsteven @butchdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @buckactuallys @lover-of-mine @jeeyuns @ anyone who’s tagged me in anything all year I have terrible memory for urls but know I’ve appreciated it every time!! You’ve all been so nice when I suddenly dropped from the sky and started yelling about these dumb firefighters alongside you, and I’m grateful for you all!

#tag games #year in review #my writing

[luna-rainbow]

I think both critique and criticism of the MCU needs to occur in context of its genre.

What I mean is, the MCU is a superhero genre, which is distinct from plain action films or sci-fi films. It is meant to be a fairytale for adults, and comes with all the necessary conventions.

The story is meant to be short and by nature a simplified (rather than simplistic) version of the real world. It is okay that not all the complexities of the world is captured on screen (* as distinct from when it introduces complexity then fails to follow it up).

Its core components consist of a hero or heroine, a villain, and a journey of good overcoming evil. In this simplified framework, an entire concept (e.g. fascism) is usually represented by a single character or entity (e.g. Pierce or Hydra), whose defeat symbolises the defeat of his ideals. We know that in the real world the loss of a single man does not defeat an entire movement, but this is an acceptable genre convention. There is usually magic involved: even in the most "grounded" of MCU's franchises, e.g. the Cap series or Black Widow, there is still a magical component even if it is explained away as pseudoscience.

As part of this convention, superhero movies are inherently about exploring morality. It positions its heroes as inspirational, and their moral character as aspirational. Unlikely fanfiction, these Hollywood movies have incredible cultural reach and impact, which is why critical analysis of their themes are not only worthwhile, but necessary. You can choose to not think critically about the media you engage with (god knows I switch off my brain too), but you cannot fault other people for critically analysing a franchise that regularly rakes in billions for what sort of message it is projecting through its heroes.

It is why discussions of who MCU chooses to frame as villains are worthwhile. Why pre-Disney MCU villains consisted of profit-chasing warmongers, eugenics spouting Nazis, governments proposing to execute its citizens before they have committed a crime; and why post-Disney MCU villains consisted of disenfranchised workers, disenfranchised immigrants, disenfranchised racial minorities. Why pre-Disney villains represented the cogs in a broken system, and post-Disney villains were often those who were trying to buck the system.

It is why discussions of what MCU chooses to frame as "heroism" is important. Why pre-Disney MCU heroes demonstrated the many permutations of associating power with responsibility, and strength with protection; why post-Disney MCU heroes simply...just are. They are passably nice folks who passively allow the plot to push them along and they seem to do acceptably decent things when forced by circumstance, but they present no belief of their own.

It reminds me of that long meta about Harry Potter and a particular brand of essentialism that says you are a hero only if you are the chosen one, and if you are in that special cohort then you can do no wrong, because heroism is simply you. It is in direct contrast to early MCU where the heroes have to learn what heroism means to them, and then to earn it by choosing to make a sacrifice of some kind.

The earlier MCU heroes dreamed of a better world, and their fairytale was one of activism. The current MCU heroes wait for trouble to chase them down before they make any stance. They are a fairytale in essentialism, in which heroism is an embedded, quintessential, eternal inner quality they are born with, and their choice - regardless of who they're fighting for or the context it is made - is always heroic.

#anti mcu #meta #anti disney

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Malcolm Clark

Published: Jul 18, 2023

The LGBT movement is beginning to behave more like a religious cult than a human-rights lobby. It’s not just the Salem-like witch hunts it pursues against its critics. It’s also its flight from reason and its embrace of magical thinking.

This irrationalism is best illustrated by its recent embrace of the term ‘two-spirit’ (often shortened to ‘2S’), which in North America has been added to the lobby’s ever-growing acronym, meaning we are now expected to refer to – take a deep breath – the ‘2SLGBTQQIA+ community’.

The term two-spirit was first formally endorsed at a conference of Native American gay activists in 1990 in Winnipeg in Canada. It is a catch-all term to cover over 150 different words used by the various Indian tribes to describe what we think of today as gay, trans or various forms of gender-bending, such as cross-dressing. Two-spirit people, the conference declared, combine the masculine and the feminine spirits in one.

From the start, the whole exercise reeked of mystical hooey. Myra Laramee, the woman who proposed the term in 1990, said it had been given to her by ancestor spirits who appeared to her in a dream. The spirits, she said, had both male and female faces.

Incredibly, three decades on, there are now celebrities and politicians who endorse the concept or even identify as two-spirit. The term has found its way into one of Joe Biden’s presidential proclamations and is a constant feature of Canadian premier Justin Trudeau’s doe-eyed bleating about ‘2SLGBTQQIA+ rights’.

The term’s success is no doubt due in part to white guilt. There is a tendency to associate anything Native American with a lost wisdom that is beyond whitey’s comprehension. Ever since Marlon Brando sent ‘Apache’ activist Sacheen Littlefeather to collect his Oscar in 1973, nothing has signalled ethical superiority as much as someone wearing a feather headdress.

The problem is that too many will believe almost any old guff they are told about Native Americans. This is an open invitation to fakery. Ms Littlefeather, for example, may have built a career as a symbol of Native American womanhood. But after her death last year, she was exposed as a member of one of the fastest growing tribes in North America: the Pretendians. Her real name was Marie Louise Cruz. She was born to a white mother and a Mexican father, and her supposed Indian heritage had just been made up.

Much of the fashionable two-spirit shtick is just as fake. For one thing, it’s presented as an acknowledgment of the respect Indian tribes allegedly showed individuals who were gender non-conforming. Yet many of the words that two-spirit effectively replaces are derogatory terms.

In truth, there was a startling range of attitudes to the ‘two-spirited’ among the more than 500 separate indigenous Native American tribes. Certain tribes may have been relaxed about, say, effeminate men. Others were not. In his history of homosexuality, The Construction of Homosexuality (1998), David Greenberg points out that those who are now being called ‘two spirit’ were ridiculed by the Papago, held in contempt by the Choctaws, disliked by the Cocopa, treated by the Seven Nations with ‘the most sovereign contempt’ and “derided” by the Sioux. In the case of the Yuma, who lived in what is now Colorado, the two-spirited were sometimes treated as rape objects for the young men of the tribe.

The contradictions and incoherence of the two-spirit label may be explained by an uncomfortable fact. The two-spirit project was shaped from day one by complete mumbo-jumbo. The 1990 conference that adopted the term was inspired by a seminal book, Living the Spirit: A Gay Indian Anthology, published two years earlier. Its essays were compiled and edited by a young white academic called Will Roscoe. He was the historical adviser to the conference. And his work on gay people in Indian cultural history – a niche genre in the 1980s – had become the received wisdom on the subject.

Roscoe’s work had an unlikely origin story of its own. In 1979, he joined over 200 other naked gay men in the Arizona desert for an event dubbed the ‘Spiritual Conference for Radical Faeries’. It was here where he met Harry Hay, the man who would become his spiritual mentor and whose biography he would go on to write. The event was Hay’s brainchild and was driven by his conviction that gay men’s lives had become spiritually empty and dominated by shallow consumerism. For three days, Roscoe and the other men sought spiritual renewal in meditation, singing and classes in Native American dancing. There were also classes in auto-fellatio, lest anyone doubt this was a gay men’s event.

To say Hay, who died in 2002, was eccentric is to radically understate his weirdness. For one thing, he was a vocal supporter of paedophilia. As such, he once took a sandwich board to a Pride march proclaiming ‘NAMBLA walks with me’, in reference to the paedophilia-advocacy group, the North American Man / Boy Love Association. Hay also believed that gay men were a distinct third gender who had been gifted shamanic powers. According to Hay, these powers were recognised and revered by pre-Christian peoples, from Ancient Greece to, you guessed it, the indigenous tribes of North America.

For years, Hay had been experimenting with sweat lodges and dressing up in Indian garb in ways that would now be criticised as cultural appropriation. Despite this, Roscoe took Hay’s incoherent thesis – that gender-bending and spiritual enlightenment go hand in hand – and turned it into a piece of Native American history.

Unsurprisingly, given its provenance, Roscoe’s work is full of holes and lazy assumptions. To prove that two-spirit people combine the feminine and masculine spirits, Roscoe searched for evidence of gender non-conforming behaviour among the Indian tribes. The problem was that he had to mainly rely on the accounts of white settlers who had little understanding of Native cultures. And even when he didn’t rely on those sources, Roscoe still jumped to the wrong conclusions.

Take, for example, the case of Running Eagle, ‘the virgin woman warrior’ of the Blackfeet tribe, whom Roscoe was the first to label as two-spirit. As a girl, she rebelled against the usual girl chores and insisted on being taught how to hunt and fight. She became a noted warrior and declared she would never marry a man or submit to one.

Of course, none of this really means that Running Eagle was two-spirit, or that the tribe she hailed from was made up of LGBT pioneers. It merely shows that the Blackfeet were smart and adaptable enough to recognise martial talent in a girl and were able to make good use of a remarkable individual. Nevertheless, Roscoe’s description of her has become gospel and Running Eagle is now endlessly cited as an example of a two-spirit.

This is a mind-numbingly reductive approach. It’s based on the presumption that what we think of as feminine and masculine traits are fixed and stable across time and cultures. It dictates that no Native American man or woman who ever breaks a gender taboo or fails to conform to expectations can be anything but two-spirit. This is gender policing on steroids.

The two-spirit term also does Native American cultures a deep disservice. It assumes that 500 different tribes were both homogenous and static. As journalist Mary Annette Pember, herself Ojibwe, argues, it also erases ‘distinct cultural and language differences that Native peoples hold crucial to their identity’.

In some ways, it is entirely unsurprising that the wayward ‘2SLGBTQQIA+’ movement has fastened on to two-spirit, an invented term with a bogus pedigree. Far from paying tribute to Native American cultures in all their richness, it exploits them to make a cheap political point. Harry Hay and his fellow auto-fellators would be proud.

==

"Two spirit" is a great way of fabricating an interesting identity when you don't have one. And you can scream at people as "bigots," but without the guilt of lying about your great-grandparents being descendants of Sacagawea.

The fake mysticism goes along neatly with the notion of disembodied sexed thetans ("gender identity") which become trapped between worlds in the wrong meat bodies.

#Malcolm Clark #two spirit #pretendians #native american #native american culture #noble savage #narcissism #narcissistic personality disorder #2SLGBTQ #gender ideology #queer theory #cultural appropriation #religion is a mental illness

[acorpsecalledcorva]

Ok last night's research was wild and I would genuinely appreciate input and other thoughts on these ideas, especially if you've come across these before as I don't think I've seen them discussed. I was actually just looking into the idea of DID being a disorder or multiple realities as highlighted by Kluft but then I ended up in a rabbit hole.

Functional Dissociation of the Self: The Psychological and Sociological Self

So first of all I was reading this paper

Which is really really good, it's massive, absolutely huge, but incredibly thorough and explores how different kinds of trauma are predictive of different disorders and presentations across PTSD, DPDR, Dissociative depression, and complex Dissociative disorders.

But quite early on it mentions the work of Sar and Ozturk and this concept of the Psychological and Sociological Self, so what's that?

(this is just an abstract but it also appears in Dissociation and the Dissociative Disorders DSM V and Beyond so you might be able to read it in a Google books preview)

This paper kind of proposes a new idea, my initial thoughts are that the authors aren't exactly exploring new ground so much as redrawing the map, however, it does seem to be that their perspective has merit in application. The idea is that everyone has these two selves, the psychological self is that deeper true self, it's your creativity and your reason, all that behind the scenes good stuff that makes up you. The sociological self is much more influenced by culture, it's behaviour and social conditioning and belief, the things we project outwardly about ourselves.

If this sounds familiar it's because it absolutely is, it's all very Jungian and Freudian and the authors admit to this. Where they differ though is the amount of agency given to the selves. Neither is a passive observer but instead a duality of the self that works in parallel as a team. These guys are also not afraid to get political in their writing and highlight how a culture that is at odds with the psychological self can give rise to extremist behaviours through overelaboration of the sociological self. There's a great bit in one of their papers about the kind of person who swings politically from far right to far left, it's wild.

When it comes to trauma, they propose that dissociation arises when the Sociological Self attempts to bury the psychological self to protect it. For instance, in the example of betrayal trauma from a caregiver, the psychological self would be the part of you that is hardwired to remain attached to said caregiver, while the sociological self recognises the danger. The SS pushes the PS down to protect it from the external reality, however, the authors suggest that the SS is unequipped to deal with this effectively without the PS's help.

Interestingly, they also suggest that the SS attempts to deal with trauma by distorting the reality of it. It repeats a version of the trauma to try and solve, unsuccessfully, and everytime it repeats it changes so that the trauma becomes retraumatising. This is important because this is where the sociocognitive aspect comes in, because when we are unable to rely on the internal solutions of the PS we turn our attention outward. Fantasy proneness, then, would result in unreliable narration of traumatic events based on attempts by the SS to reconcile trauma from external sources. Pseudomemories. The trauma is real, and a hard copy is stored in the psychological self, but when the SS acts as a barrier to the PS then that core trauma is inaccessible. That's why it's important to focus on the feelings behind the trauma as those remain true.

In this model, alter identity formation arises from the discrete packaging of trauma that is set aside, and an attempt by the psychological self to connect with the external world and creates a new sociological self. This is very relevant to me as it pertains to how I experience alters, that there's a pool of fragments (discrete trauma packages) and, when required, an alter emerges from this pool and passes through my social conditioning to create the identity aspect of the alters sense of self. The biographical data of the alter is therefore formed from my sociological self's interpretation of external sources (be they archetypal or direct copies of media).

This disconnect of the PS and SS leads to an underdevelopment of the psychological self and an over development of the sociological self. This is what, in the authors opinion, leads to the paradoxical phenomena of a lack of neuroplasticity (no new solutions for trauma are found) and high adaptability (new alter identities in traumatic or stressful situations) found in CDD patients. It also means that the psychological self remains a child with a strong drive towards protection and nurturing, but therefore, retains it's sensitivity towards betrayal and therefore need for protection.

Now, this is the extra wild bit, because the authors propose that reconnection and engagement with the psychological self should be the primary goal of psychotherapy and if successful then the PS can rapidly develop and resolve trauma.

In this paper

The authors highlight the main barrier to access of the psychological self, the trauma self. The TS is an aspect of the over developed sociological self. It contains a distorted sense of reality, one of hopelessness and helplessness, and projects this reality internally. Think of it like a recursive version of Plato's allegory of the cave. The trauma self sits inside the cave, miserable, but afraid of the shadows on the wall and therefore unable to leave. Those shadows are then projected inwards to internal parts onto their own cave wall. This creates a bidirectional phobia of the internal and external world. Internal protector parts are hyper vigilant against a distorted view of the external world, and the host alter becomes phobic of the internal parts which they view as irrational, frightening, and dangerous (hello, this is me).

Now, this is the bit that seems insane to me and what I would love others opinion on, because the authors seem to suggest that persecutory parts hold the resolution skills for processing trauma, and if the host would only stop being prejudiced against them (like, actually, not like liberal white women who support BLM but lock their car doors when they see someone looking a little too urban) and let the persecutors do what they were originally designed for then recovery is incredibly swift and effective. One case study took 6 sessions. They also claim that patients have had no relapses up to 7 years after treatment.

So, this to me seems way to good to be true (or maybe that's my treatment resistant trauma self talking 😅). There must surely be counter arguments to this model on limitations or impracticalities. The first paper I linked seems quite thoroughly in support of this model, but I'm pretty sure that it's the first time I've come across it. Does anyone else know more about this? Has it been done to death and thoroughly debunked? Are there discussions by other big names in the field? Help a sister out

#syscourse #sysconversation #sysblr #system community #dissociative identity disorder #did system #actually traumatised #long ass post #sorry about that

[mikovwrites]

SubMas: BeeGearStation AU with Wasp Queen Reader

This fanfic is inspired by @r0-boat and @onestepbackwards 's ideas of SubMas's BeeGearStation AU. Their blogs are full of delicious ideas and writings. Please check them out!

Read on Ao3:

Summary:

You are a Wasp Queen reigning in a wasp colony of all-female workers. Having been reigning for several years, you have created a prosperous colony life for your workers. However, you noticed a problem that arises in your colony: every few months, several of your workers fail to do their tasks properly. At first, you thought that it was because you are too strict with them, but it was actually because they are h0rni. This problem had been worrying your mind until you heard about a certain new bee colony that has all-male drones.

Chapter 1.

Imagine you (the reader) being a wasp hybrid instead of a human. You have your own colony nest with your workers (all female, so no drones). Your colony is prosperous under your rule as the sole Queen. However, you noticed that some of your workers become somewhat lethargic at least once every few months. You thought that it was because of your discipline and strict laws within the colony, but it was not! It's because your workers are h0rni for their need to mate with a male! Also, your colony is slowly dying due to no birth given. Oh, how scandalous!! You need to think of a way to maintain your colony so that it would thrive.

One day, while doing your work as the Queen, you heard one of your workers talking about an all-male bee colony that has two Kings ruling it, and they are all drones (all males, so no workers. You now have the solution for your problem and are determined to find a way to solve this problem. You have prepared all that is essential for the trip to the next-door colony and also the proposal. All that is left is for you to go there and talk with their Kings, but you can't. The problem is that wasps and bees are not known for being friendly to each other. So you think of a different way: you try to bring more delectable gifts for the Kings and a letter of proposal. You and some of your workers proudly and confidently marched to the bee colony. Alas, you are stopped at the entrance as those poor and clueless bees run away from you to report straight to their Kings. You, as the Queen, stand tall (albeit nervous) to see the Kings. They don't seem to be pleased by your arrival.

You decide to give them the written proposal to the Kings, hoping they would understand that you and your colony mean no harm. One of them is reading it carefully, while the other keeps his stern eyes on you. After reading your proposal, they seemed to be shocked and shot you a confused look, but you didn't notice their slightly giddy stance. You stayed calm and explained once again that your arrival means no harm to their colony, and present them with the gifts you brought for them. Finally, they let you in and you three are now seated in their meeting rooms, while your workers stood outside the bee colony, being endlessly scrutinized by the drones.

The Kings and you decided to discuss more your proposal, and they asked for a lot of details. They said that your gifts are not to their liking. You told them that you can find more suitable ones for them. They declined and said that they want something else. Something... valuable. They want you as their new Queen. You told them that you can't just leave your colony. How are they going to survive without their Queen? Finally, all three of you came to a win-win solution. You would stay a few nights to mate with them, and also some of your workers would mate with some of their drones. Once you are bearing their eggs, you would give some of your eggs to them and some for your own. The deal is sealed and you (and your workers) did the do.

A few weeks later, you noticed that the contract that you have agreed to have something else written on it, something that you did not notice in your nervous state before.

“The bearer of the eggs would permanently become the Bee’s Queen should she stays more than a week in our colony unless she wants her workers to be harmed.”

Your head spins and your try to regain your composure, and stomped your way to the Kings’ room, only to be greeted with their wicked smile. They sauntered their way to you and whispered, “You should have read the contract more carefully next time, Queen.”.

#submas #submas x reader #beegearstation #beegearstation au #mikovwrites #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #subway master ingo #subway master emmet #subway master nobori #subway master kudari #wasp queen reader #yandere ingo #yandere emmet #yandere

[calidore]

i have no patience for a happy ending

artist!dazai x artist!chuuya academic rivals to lovers (? but not really) bsd meets mesterul manole some parts are inspired by chuuya nakahara's poetry and some quotes are also taken from there. i really recommend reading something by him ao3 link : i have no patience for a happy ending - bonefire - 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs [Archive of Our Own]

summary

chuuya and dazai are looking for inspiration for their art project. looking for inspiration doesn't go as planned and i am insane.

i don't know who is narrating this

The difference between a happy and a sad ending lies in the heart of the reader.

“Please!” the artist begged the Moon, not taking his eyes away from it. He could have shed a tear, if only there were any left.

The reason for his desperation was the painting for his master, which for the untrained mind might seem exaggerated, but for the young artist seemed like the only chance he got to impress his master; and his rival too, but that part will never leave the darkest part of his heart. For the ordinary man, the theme for the painting would not present any impediments : beauty; but for the artist, who has a peculiar hunger for beauty and grotesqueness, it seemed impossible. He has thought about every beautiful thing he has ever seen: the woods before a storm, the mountain reflected in a dead deer’s shiny eyes, the full Moon hidden behind clouds, his reflection in a pond of tears, but once he started painting them the beauty vanished. And after three sleepless nights, he had decided to ask the Moon, which should not be even the last option.

“I will do anything.”

That is something only someone who is willing to destroy themselves would say and the Moon is not merciful.

“Is there something more beautiful than the heart of a lover?”

The artist’s eyes darkened. He knew the perfect answer to this question.

The moon awaits her executioner. It was time for him to leave.

~~~

Three weeks had passed since the master gave the assignment and all Chuuya had done was ask his fellow artists about their piece. One of them was painting a watercolour self portrait using their own tears, one was carving a crown onto their head and another was writing a prayer about himself. There was only one person he had not dared to ask, even though the curiosity was eating him alive.

Chuuya stared long at the canvas in front of him and started to leave careless strokes of colour on it, hoping some sort of inspiration would come. He gave up soon and with a sight he laid on his back, looking at the stars.

Dazai was admiring the state in which he found his rival. People are most vulnerable when they are alone and looking at the stars was his favourite activity. He could spend hours recognizing each constellation, creating a different story for it each time, and counting stars until he fell asleep. If you asked him why the stars were so important to him, he would laugh and tell you that the stars became him when he stared at them.

Dazai stepped closer to Chuuya, not making any sound, which was not on purpose, but wandering around without making a noise was pretty useful, so he got used to doing it unconsciously.

“What are you doing?” Chuuya yelled at him once he realised how close Dazai was.

“I came to you with a proposal.” Dazai’s speech was composed of short and vague sentences. You always had to ask questions and continue the conversation if you wanted to get to the point of the interaction.

“I am not…” Chuuya started, but got interrupted.

“We should work together.”

“Why should we do that?”

“I believe that we would be a great inspiration to each other.”

Chuuya almost let himself believe him.

“I hardly doubt it. You see, our views on beauty are very different.” Chuuya said.

“Is that so?” Dazai was curious why his rival thought that. It seemed like they had a very different perception of their relationship.

Chuuya looked at Dazai thinking that the statement was obvious. He believed that they were different in each aspect of their lives, because they could never reach an agreement. But maybe that was because they were too similar.

“The main difference between us is that I would die for beauty. You would kill for it.” Chuuya said, and without breaking the eye contact, Dazai answered:

“I would kill it.”

Dazai gave him a smile, a smile he did not recognize. A smile that didn’t look like someone living.

Chuuya did not understand what he was trying to say, but he never understood anything Dazai was trying to tell him. Dazai’s ambiguity was far superior to his and was the only thing that kept him with an unbroken heart. Everything he does has a hidden meaning and purpose, and it seems like sometimes not even Dazai knows what they are; that’s where his power and mis(t)ery lies.

“But that is even better. Rivals bring more interesting things out of each other than lovers do. Tomorrow is gonna be a full moon. I’ll meet you under the willow tree.”

And without getting a chance to answer back, Chuuya looked at Dazai’s figure disappearing into the dark.

~~~

The willow tree was Chuuya’s favourite, and secret, spot. It was perfect to watch the moon on sleepless nights and he didn’t like the idea of sharing such a spot with anyone, let alone with Dazai. But he did not have a choice. He had to meet with him if he wanted to finish his work.

The moon had taken its place as a viewer when Chuuya arrived. And with the moon so high, looking after every soul, he felt safe; as safe as a character would feel in the hands of an author. Dazai was nowhere to be found.

“You actually came.” The voice came unexpectedly from behind. Chuuya turned around to see a grinning Dazai.

“Surprised? You know, most people are actually truthful.”

Dazai chuckled at his statement. It was true, he preferred to lie than to tell the truth. Lies were easier, safer, more interesting. He held the belief that language was invented by the need of humans to lie to each other.

“Now can you tell me why you brought me here?” Chuuya asked.

“To help you with your art piece.”

“What about yours?”

Dazai stepped closer to him. He was now only inches away from him and Chuuya could clearly see his eyes; they looked like the starless sky.

“I’m actually almost done.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I titled it `Dying Youth Under the Willow Tree`.”

They were staring at each other with a look that said “I would set the world on fire”; one to keep the other warm and the other just to watch everything burn. That right there was their little world. A world neither of them dared to touch, let alone destroy. Their little world, perfect in its inexistence.

They stayed like this for a while because neither could touch the fragility of this silent agreement between them. But when entrusting to someone, you have to take into consideration any possibility of betrayal, because the likelihood of treason gets higher when the heart is distracted. And if it wasn’t for the warm blood dripping on his chest he probably wouldn’t have realised that his ache was caused by hand, not by heart.

The deeper Chuuya’s knife went, the more painful Dazai’s heartache became.

Tears fell down his cheeks, tears which could as well be tears of love, but who am I to say how tears of love should look like.

Chuuya laid down his body so he could see the stars and soon enough he will become one of them.

~~~

The next morning a new painting was exhibited. It was a painting of a heart. The red used was so rich and bloody that any artist would question its origin.

At the bottom of the painting was written “a place to hide secrets”.

#bungou stray dogs #bungou gay dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #dazai x chuuya #artist dazai #artist chuuya #dark academia #unreliable narrator #but the narrator is the author #or maybe god ?

[charcadett]

U want Brassius requests? Can I get something with his SO giving him an Applin? And maybe they have to explain the tradition to him since it’s not really a thing in Paldea.

Ohhhh, Brassius deserves an Applin. I did two scenarios for this one at the end. One where you give Brassius an Applin while dating, and one where you give him an Applin before dating. Hope you enjoy!

Brassius Receiving An Applin

- This might be a me thing, but I had so much trouble finding Applin when I was playing SV. When I finally found one, I just caught a Ditto and bred it instead of looking for another. That being said, I feel like Applin isn’t easy to find in Paldea. Or maybe I’m projecting. While you can find them outside of Artazon, it will be an endeavor. Not just in catching, but also in making it a surprise for Brassius.

- Brassius isn’t someone I’d call clingy, but he will come to find you, seemingly at random, with little to no warning. Your input is incredibly valuable to him. Whenever he’s particularly stumped, a quick conversation with you always helps. Even if it can be somewhat one-sided- he needs to voice his thoughts to work them out on his own. Brassius also enjoys your company. Just having your nearby floods him with inspiration. Of course, if you tell him you need some time alone, he listens, with many words of affirmation and an offer to come to find him should you need anything. Otherwise, be prepared for an ambush.

- You’re hunched over in the grass outside of Artazon, too busy straining your eyes in search of those elusive apple-inhabiting beasts to notice Brassius approaching from behind. It isn’t until he ducks down next to you that he finally catches your attention. “I was looking for you! What are you doing down here?” He squints and cradles his chin in the palm of his hand. “What do you see?”

- Startled, you let out a shriek, which he responds to with an amused chuckle. You look so adorable when you’re surprised like that, it’s just what he needed. Though, that doesn’t sate his curiosity as to what you’re doing crawling around in the grass like this. Not even a little. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to convince him to leave you be. He knows something’s up, but he also understands you deserve your privacy. If the time comes that you feel comfortable telling him what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, he would be more than happy to listen.

- Presenting Brassius with an Applin as a courting proposal would be met with excitement and confusion. He’s ecstatic to know what you were doing earlier, and tells you that next time, you’d be better off shaking trees rather than crawling in the dirt, but he's confused as to why you’re offering it to him. Of course, he’s honored! He’s certain to emphasize that. Despite not understanding, he wants nothing more than to grasp your train of thought. Do explain! He will listen with rapt attention. Once you tell him that giving an Applin to the object of your affections is a tradition in Galar, Brassius’ face will break into a wide grin. Exclaiming he feels the same, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Brassius will treasure Applin as if it is the rarest gem.

- Presenting Brassius with an Applin after you started dating would be similar. A mix of confusion and excitement. When you tell him that Applin in Galar represents eternal love, he practically glows. It would take an act of god to pull the two of you apart! Though a physical representation of that sentiment, especially one so cute, is something he will always treasure. He raises Applin with so much love and care, you hope his other Pokemon don’t get jealous. You’re always sure to sneak them extra treats for being such good sports.

#pokemon x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon headcanons #gym leader brassius x reader #brassius x reader #STILL TRYING TO GET A GRASP OF THIS GUYS CHARACTER #hes so viscerally odd i love him