#now I have a story to tell to my friends' grandchildren

[phoward89]

Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: When Coriolanus signs you out of the hospital to bring you to his Corso penthouse, you see a glimpse of his dark side. Will that glimpse make you run away from him or to him?

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Mentions of death, Mentions of planning murder, Mentions of cheating/infidelity (not on reader), Mentions of poison, Large age gap/difference (Coriolanus is 33 while reader is 18), Manipulation, Groping, Slapping, um...trying to think of anything else.

Here's the 2nd part of Forever & Ever, My Darling Rose. I gave the Reader a last name, Halvir, in this just to make some scenarios etc a bit easier to write. But the Readers first name is up to you lovely and wonderful readers to come up with.

Story Masterlist

Chapter 2:

Coriolanus marched towards the nurses’ station with a haughty airs to him. He gave off an entitled, but dangerous aurora that had the nurses shaking in their white nursing hats. He'd threatened to kill every single one of their loved ones (friends, family, pets, estranged family, etc) if something happened to you and the nurses were terrified that he'd make good on that promise. Considering you went out of your mind with a nightmare and cornered yourself into your room, resulting in him being called there to calm you down, the nurses were fearful.

The nurses quickly grabbed their charts and scurried off, excuses that they had to check on patients echoed into the air, as the head gamemaker got closer to the front desk. Patients that are most likely asleep since it was nearly 3 in the morning. Yes, the nurses left their charge nurse behind to deal with the wrath of Coriolanus Snow. The nurse assigned to you was the first to bolt.

“I'm signing Y/N Halvir out since your staff is too incompetent to properly care for a victor.” Coriolanus firminly told the charge nurse as he came to a stop right at the desk she was sitting behind, all by herself since the staff abandoned her to face a fate worse than death alone.

The charge nurse refused to meet Coriolanus’ eye while tentatively informing him, “Head Gamemaker Snow, sir, it's ill advised to sign her out. She hasn't been checked by a doctor and she seems to be dealing with some post traumatic stress.”

Wrong Answer. Coriolanus was outraged that some old nurse had the gall to tell him that he couldn't do what he felt best for his, HIS, darling rose. What did that old hag know? If it wasn't for her calling him, you would've hyperventilated and passed out from sheer fear in the corner of your room.

A private room that he was footing the bill for, by the way.

Well, looks like he'll just have to make the charge nurse’s loved ones disappear for her lack of skills tending to you. He'll also find out who was your assigned nurse, make that useless twit disappear along with her loved ones. Well, the Citadel could always use some more lab rats to conduct mutt experiments on.

“It may be ill advised, but I assure you that I am signing Y/N Halvir out of this hospital and taking her with me, where she'll be properly cared for.” He calmly told the nurse as his cold blue eyes cut her down. Leaning down over the desk, causing him to be face to face with the old nurse, Coriolanus hissed, “Your insubordination has won your son, a doctor, and his family a transfer to District 6. Seems like the hospitals there are in need of more doctors due to the rise in morphling addiction amongst the district citizens. It's such a shame that both of your grandchildren, a boy and a girl, will now be eligible for the Hunger Games as District 6 citizens.”

The charge nurse shook with fear as she pleaded, “Please, Head Gamemaker Snow, don't do that. Please, don't be so harsh.” Quickly, she worked on her computer while adding in, “I'm printing out the discharge paperwork now, just don't send my family away to District 6.”

Coriolanus just stood up straight, his full height of 6’0 towering over the charge nurse as she sat at the desk, typing and clicking away at the computer. He didn't say a word to her, just stared her down with cold, dead, blue eyes. 

The charge nurse swallowed down a sick feeling that was welling up while rising from her seat to scurry over to the printer. She silently prayed to the printer, which was growling louder than a feral animal, to hurry up and spit out the paperwork for your discharge. 

Coriolanus grew bored waiting for the necessary paperwork for your release. So bored that he was tapping his shiny black shoes against the linoleum floor. 

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click-

“Here’s that paperwork for you to sign.” The charge nurse told Coriolanus while hurrying over to him. Quickly she placed the paperwork on the desk before grabbing a pen from the cup on top of the desk. “And here's a pen, sir.” She practically threw the pen at him.

“Thank you, but your family's still headed to 6.” He simply said while signing and initialing the stack of paperwork he was given. It seemed a bit of an overkill in his opinion.

The nurse turned as white as a sheet upon hearing Coriolanus’ words, but she didn't dare try to fight him on it. Her family's fate was sealed by the sadistic head gamemaker, a man whose temperament was worse than his father, the late General Crassus Snow.

Once Coriolanus was finished with your paperwork, he left the front desk without so much as a thank you or a goodnight to the nurse, and returned to your room. You were sitting on the bed watching some late night rerun on Capitol tv whenever he entered your room. Looking between you and the tv, he chuckled, “You like the god awful cooking show where the chef curses out his potential staff?”

“We only get 3 channels on our tv back home in District 12 and this is one of the channels.” You explained to him while he made his way further into the room. Truthfully, you were lucky to even have a tv since you lived in the Seam. Your brother Rein and his girlfriend, Ashlie, had scrimped and saved for years to be able to buy the thing. It was small and second hand; only picked up 3 channels. The Capitol News, Capitol Movie Classics, and Capitol Channel 3. You wished there were more channels, but you were grateful for the ones you had. Most people in the Seam didn't even have that. You know that your neighbor, Corbin, and his Auntie (a mining widow) didn't even have a tv. 

As Coriolanus placed your paperwork down on your side table, you stared right at the tv (as the top chef called one of his potential staff a stupid fucking donkey for burning a risotto) and honestly revealed, “Plus watching all of these chefs get cursed out and treated horribly by their potential boss reminds me that somebody out there has it worse than me. Even though I live in the Seam with my coal miner brother and his girlfriend, who's a local barmaid at the hob, nobody's ever treated me as horribly and rudely as that award winning chef treats the people competing on his show for a job in his restaurant.”

“Hmmm…” Coriolanus hummed. Standing by your side, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear while asking, “And what of your mother?”

“I haven't seen her since she ran off when I was 5 and Rein was 15.” You flatly remarked.

“I see.” The platinum blonde man nodded. He felt rage boil in his cold, icy veins. How could somebody leave you as a child? You were so perfect, so innocent. You didn't deserve to be willingly abandoned by your mother. Oh, if he ever got a hold of that useless bitch she was dead. He'd make sure that she died a torturous death too.

“You signed me out AMA?” You asked, glancing over the form that was on your side table 

“Yes, I signed you out against medical advice because the staff here is doing you, my darling rose, more harm then good. They're too incompetent to care for my Victor and you, Y/N, deserve nothing but the best care.” Moving to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, he told you, “I had your reaping dress cleaned and brought here for you when you were admitted. I thought you'd feel more comfortable in that than your uniform from the arena.”

“Thank you, Head Gam-Coriolanus. I appreciate it.” You thanked him, a bit nervous about what name to call him. In the end you decided to just call him Coriolanus, but it still felt heavy and wrong on your tongue.

“Please, just call me Coryo.” He countered while crossing the room with your simple cotton floral dress in hand. “Now let's get you out of your hospital gown and into your pretty dress so we can go home.” He suggested while coming to a stop right at your bedside.

Instead of standing and stripping naked like Coriolanus thought you'd do, you arched a brow at him instead only to ask, “Home? But I thought you were taking me to a penthouse here in the Capitol?” 

“I am taking you to the Corso penthouse which is now your new home, my darling rose.” He slowly explained to you, as if you were a small child, while placing your dress down on the bed. Shaking his head, he grabbed your upper arm and pulled you to stand up. 

“What the hell are you doing, Coriolanus?!” You shrieked, pulling away from him as he started to untie your hospital gown. 

Grabbing you roughly by the upper arms and turning you to look at him, he stared down at you with cold, icy eyes. “I'm tired and want to go home and get some sleep. You will be a good girl and let me help you change.” 

You tried to break his hold while assuring him, “I can get changed myself. You can go wait in the hall, Coriolanus.”

“No, my darling rose, you can't. Now, be a good girl and let me help you so we can get out of here.” He told you in a tone that was sickeningly sweet.

“Corio-” You began to protest, only for him to slap you across the face. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as your hand automatically flew up to cradle your stinging cheek.

“I told you to be a good girl and let me help you, Y/N.” He sighed. 

“You hit me…” You trailed off in shock as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Oh, my darling rose, I didn't mean to hurt you.” The pretty platinum blonde man cooed while prying your hand away from the cheek that he’d struck in his frustrated anger. His blue eyes raked over your cheek, which was raw and red from the slap. Seeing your tears rolling hotly down your cheeks turned him on, as horrible as that sounded. Brushing his knuckles along your puffy cheekbone, that would surely bruise within an hour or so, he softly said, “I don't like brats and backtalk, Y/N. If only you were a good girl then I wouldn't have slapped you.”

His words left your mind going a mile a minute. So, wait, it was your fault he slapped you? All because you didn't want his help changing? That didn't make sense. Should it make sense?

You were drawn out of your mental musings whenever you felt Coriolanus’ tongue lap up the tears along your cheek. Your breath hitched at the action. Your felt a tightness in your chest and a fluttering in your lower belly as he tilted your face to lick the tears of your untouched cheek. 

As his tongue traced your cheekbone, lapping up the salty tear stains on your skin, you felt a tingle in your core. Oh no. You can't have this reaction to him. It's wrong; he’s a married man and older than you. Hell, he's even older than your older brother.

Even though you knew being turned on by him was wrong, it didn't stop you from rubbing your thighs together.

When he pulled away from you, he gave you a lined smile and suggested, “Now that we have an understanding, let's get you in your pretty dress so we can go home.”

Your head was fuzzy with want and you had a slight ache in between your legs, so you were in no shape to protest or fight back. “Okay.” Your breath was shaky as you nodded. “Okay.”

“Seems like I have quite the effect on you, my darling rose.” Coriolanus smirked as his nose ran along your jawline. Your heartbeat was beating quickly, perhaps too quickly, while you felt heat pool in between your legs. Oh god, you've never felt like this before (yea, you've been turned on before, but not to the point where you felt uncomfortable and wanted to rip your hair out) and it both startled and excited you. 

He licked the shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “I must confess, Y/N, that you also have quite the effect on me.” He whispered into your ear before pulling away and leaving you to stare up at him with shock all over your face. “Don't look so shocked, my darling. You’re very beautiful and you're resilient; a victor.” 

Turning you around, he gently untied your hospital gown as if he was untying the bows to his favorite piece of lingerie. When he was done, he spun you around, nearly knocking you off balance and slid the gown off your shoulders. Your eyes darted to the floor as your breasts were exposed to him. You felt so small under his gaze and towering form as he slid the gown the rest of the way off you. 

“You have such nice tits.” Coriolanus smiled in awe, lust shining in his eyes, as he began to palm your nice tits.

“Coriolanus-” You started, only for him to cut you off with the request of, “Coryo, call me Coryo.”, as he began to run his thumbs over your nipples while cupping your tits in his large, calloused hands.

“Coryo, we can't do this here. We're in my hospital room.” You told him despite his actions causing you to get even wetter then you already were between your legs.

“It's a private room, my darling rose. I paid enough for it, so I don't see the harm in us getting my money's worth.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Did he seriously want to mess around in your hospital room? Oh no. No, no, no. No. You're drawing that line at that. 

Your hands wrapped around his wrist as you told him, “I just want to get out of here, Coryo. You promised to take me home, remember?”

You prayed that your words knocked some sense into him because you didn't want your first time doing sexual things to be in a hospital room, where a nurse could walk in at any time, with him (he was a married man for God's sakes!).

His demeanor deflated and he sighed, “Yes, my darling rose, I did promise you that didn't I?”, while pulling away from you. He grabbed your dress from the bed and motioned for you to lift up your hands.

“What about my underwear?” You asked, feeling a bit exposed as Coryo looked you up and down with a hungry glint in his eye. It was as if he was a starving man and you were a juicy steak ready to eat.

“You don't need them, darling. Once we get to our penthouse you'll be changing into a shirt to sleep in anyways.” He explained while motioning, once again, for you to lift your arms. This time you obeyed him and he pulled your best floral dress over your head. He smoothed it out, only to press a kiss to your forehead and smile. “You're all ready to go, my Victor.”

The car ride to the luxury penthouse seemed to take ages. You were alone with Coriolanus since he was driving and it made you feel a bit uncomfortable. After what happened in your hospital room (him stripping you and groping your boobs) you didn't think it was a good idea to be alone with him. He was married and you didn't want to lose your innocence, all of your firsts, your virginity to a man that would never be yours no matter the chemistry or effect you had on each other.

You were staring aimlessly out the window when Coryo startled you by placing a hand on your thigh. You didn't say a word, just sighed uncomfortably.

Looking over at you with a worried expression, Coriolanus asked, “What's wrong, Y/N? You seem troubled.”

Pulling your eyes off the window, you snapped your head to look at the platinum blonde in the driver's seat and honestly told him how you felt. “You shouldn't be resting your hand on my thigh, Coryo. You’re married.”

The gold ring on his finger mocked him as it shines against the red and cream floral fabric of your dress. He never had anyone turn him down because of that thin gold band he was branded with by saying ‘I do’ to Livia Cardew, well that is until now. Coriolanus knew that you were young and innocent from District 12 so the thought of being a mistress would horrify you. He knew that he had to ease your worries, so he simply told you, “Don't worry about my wife, darling. I’m taking care of everything; she won't be my wife much longer.”

“I wasn't aware ya’ll were having marriage problems. The Capitol gossip rags make it seem like the marriage is a happy one.”

“Things aren't always as they seem here in the Capitol, my darling rose.” He told you before correcting your grammar with a stern, “And it's I wasn't aware that you were having marital problems.” Patting you on the thigh as he switched lanes, he explained, “You're not in District 12 anymore and since you'll be staying here in the Capitol for a while it's best that you learn how to speak properly; like a Capitol citizen.”

You didn't say a word, just numbly nodded. You never thought that staying in the Capitol while Victor’s Village and your house was constructed meant changing how you talked. You never thought you talked strange, well until now. “Do I sound weird when I talk, Coryo?” You asked, staring at the side of his face as he drove.

“No.” He shook his head. “We just need to work on some small grammar errors here and there, but no, darling, you sound just fine when you talk.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, turning your attention back to looking out your window. 

He gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, “You're a rose that just needs some extra pruning and tender care, but fortunately for you I'm an excellent gardener that favors white roses.” His thumb grazed your thigh as he explained, “White roses are the perfect symbol of purity and perfection.” As he pulled up to a large building, his baritone heavily hung in the air with the meaningful words of, “Unblemished; untouched, just like you, my darling rose.”

But how long would you be Unblemished and untouched? Would he take your innocence as soon as you entered the penthouse or would he wait until he was free from his wife? The bigger question was did you even want him to take your innocence? To give you all of your first experiences with a man? Now that was the million dollar question you didn't have an answer for. Or maybe you did, but didn't want to acknowledge it.

AN: Did anyone catch the tv show easter egg I threw in there?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 , @purriteen , @poppyflower-22 , @meetmeatyourworst , @whipwhoops , @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow fanfiction #coryo snow #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games x reader

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Would Happen If You Had a Friend Like You?

Hello beautiful people! I thank you guys so much for the support I’ve received over the past couple of months and even this past weekend. I will continue to make content that resonates with my collective. I am delivering my new PAC as promised, even though it was supposed to come out last night (oopsie lol). Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this one. It is inspired by tears and frustration of those who feel taken for granted in their friendships (including myself). Please don’t hesitate to book a reading with me if you would like to receive a personal reading. Without further ado, please select your pile.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: If you had a friend like you, PIle One, I think that you would meet them while working/interning for a company. I think that this person would be the fresh air to the heavy atmosphere surrounding y’all. I see that you are both sophisticated professionals who know how to handle conflict calmly for the most part. It’s hard for you both to “pop off” and this may be a problem within you guys’ friendship. You both must learn how to be okay with not letting things go off the hook. You must be intentional with the way you navigate or you will be screwed over every time. I feel that if you had a friend like you, you would be very suspicious of this person because you can’t put a finger on why you feel this way. This person will be equally suspicious. But once you actually talk to each other, you will share stories and experiences regarding business ideas, your dream career environments, many of you will bond over being the only women at work and even sharing secrets about your family dynamics. I could see that you will run a business with this person and it will be successful. It may take a while to hit this bump but it’s definitely possible. Lastly, beware of oversharing too soon or jumping to conclusions. Take it slow, babe. There will be slip ups between the both of you but it’s best that you become strict with yourself on what it means to have a healthy friendship.

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, The Chariot, The Emperor, The Tower (RX), 9 of Wands, 6 of Swords 

extras: nipsey hussle. “motivate” saweetie. moldavite. overbite. 

Pile Two: It’s very interesting how your story will play out, Pile Two. It’ll be a story to tell your grandchildren. So what I am getting from your pile is that you will meet your other half during a breakup. But the thing is, this person will partially be the reason for your breakup. I see the scenario of women getting played by a guy. The movie ‘John Tucker Must Die’ comes to mind. Also, the storyline between Teddy, Spencer and Skylar from Good Luck Charlie comes to mind. You guys will find comfort in each other during this painful period. Many people would stay away from “the other woman”, but you won’t because your situation is unique. I feel like if you are dealing with someone right now, they have two sides to them. They could have air sign placements. I feel like when you come face-to-face with this person, you will not feel any sort of anger or resentment towards them. You will cry in this person’s arms and immediately feel at home. But you should know that once you feel that you want to move on from this, the bond that once existed will change and this change will more than likely not be taken lightly. So enjoy your time with this person for the moment being, Pile Two. Have conversations with this person about how the dynamic will change overtime to prepare for it.

Cards Used:The World, 3 of Swords, Two of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups (RX)

extras: igbo tribe. medulla. voguing practice. thelma and louise. grief counseling. hideous bangs.

Pile Three: I feel like this group is into music. You may want to move to one of the music capitals like Atlanta, Nashville, New York or Miami to pursue a music career. In my third eye, I am seeing snippets of the pilot episode of ‘Star’. The premise of the show is the formation, trials and tribulations of a girl group. There are two sisters and a best friend that are in this girl group. During the pilot, the blonde sister has to physically fight her sister’s abuser to bring her to Atlanta so that they can move to Atlanta with their aunt. After this, they are proactive in jumpstarting their career even with drama, drugs and whatnot clouding their future. Now, I feel like your friend will obviously be a newcomer in the music industry as well. It is best if y’all work together. I see that if this person has a kid, you will be the child’s godparent. I also see some notoriety, fame and recognition coming with this person once you all decide to work together. This will only happen because y’all collaborated; if y’all went solo, the same result would not happen. But you need to be aware of doing things in vain. You and them both need to think about each other because the spotlight can blind people’s true intentions. Think clearly. But I feel like y’all would actually be friends for a long time despite any differences that may occur because of vanity. There’s chemistry that y’all have with each other that you will not have with anyone else so cherish each other while you all are still here.

Cards Used: 10 of Cups, Four of Discs (RX), The Star, The Empress, 8 of Cups, 6 of Wands, King of Wands 

extras: girl groups. ‘musically inclined.’ music industry. tlc. money grab. “cut the check.” “ain’t shit sweet.”

Pile Four: And last but not least, Pile Four. Your situation will involve meeting someone who is also addicted to something. You have their vices so do they. I am channeling the energy of Edward Norton and Maria Singer. They are liars. They show up at AA meetings for fun and catch each other in a lie. I feel like this friendship will be about holding each other accountable. I am also channeling Rue and her sponsor, Ali. They have an uncle-niece relationship. I believe that you all will have a significant difference in maturity. And this will be the reason why you bump heads. Someone believes that they know more than the other person because they’ve been doing it longer or they don’t believe that their vice is worthy of being taken seriously. Now, this vice could be drugs, sex, over/undereating, online shopping, gambling, playing video games, etc. Now, when you meet this person, you will be put off because you won’t know any better. But this person will leave a strong impact on your life. It is best that you keep them around because you won’t know what you got till it’s gone. Taking this person for granted will be the worst thing that you can do because there is no one else that will hold you accountable like them, Pile Four. 

Cards Used: 9 of Discs, Princess of Cups, Temperance, 6 of Wands, The High Priestess, The Hermit, 9 of Wands 

extras: low fade haircut. burning hair. electric slide. goal chaser. fear of death. close call. chewing ice.

#law of assumption #manifesting #neville goddard #tarot #hoodoo #tarotreading #astro notes #pick a card #pick a pile #divination #pac reading #tarotcommunity #spirituality #tarot deck #tarot pull #daily tarot #pick an image #pick a reading #free tarot #tarot cards #tarot pick a card #tarot pac #black tarot readers #tarot community #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarot witch #kpop tarot #Spotify

[ragingbookdragon]

Take A Leap

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, References to Abuse

**********************************************************************

She didn’t believe him when he told her, her eyes narrowed in a look of suspicion, lips pursed in slight confusion. “We’re gonna go to a bar in the middle of Las Almas…and have a party?”

Soap nodded. “Yeah, Alejandro and Rudy are making preparations for it.”

“Las Almas is still under Narcos control,” she reminded. “This doesn’t seem like a very…thought out plan.”

“That section of the city is under Vaqueros control,” he countered, flicking her forehead, a grin etching his lips when she slapped at his hand with a glare. “Besides, routine patrols will still happen. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She grunted, turning back to the gun she’d been cleaning. “I beg to differ.”

“So, you’ll come?”

“Of course I will. What kind of person would I be if I skipped out on this?”

Soap raised his hands in success, turning to the door. “Yes! Now to go run down Ghost.”

***

Ghost frowned at the clear liquor the bartender poured into the glass and he stared at it, griping, “What the fuck did you just pour in my glass?”

“Whiskey,” the man replied.

“That is not whiskey.”

“It’s white whiskey,” Alejandro cut in, balancing his weight on a hand atop Ghost’s shoulder as he sat, gesturing for the man to pour another round. “Made from corn from Oaxaca.”

“Looks like tequila,” Ghost countered, yet picked up his glass and took a sip.

“Eh?”

He shrugged. “Had better. Had worse.”

Alejandro grinned and took a sip of his own, turning on the stool to watch his men mingling with the 141. “What’s your drink of choice, hermano?”

“Kentucky.”

“Bourbon?” Alejandro clarified then pursed his lips. “Won’t find Kentucky here.”

“I’ve noticed.” Ghost turned slightly, enough that he could watch the group. “Why the party?”

The Colonel had a fond look on his face. “Give my men a reminder of what we fight for. Not just freedom, but peace, the ability to gather with family and friends with no fear for their lives.” He chuckled as he watched Soap pull a face at the shot of tequila he’d taken, Rudy on the other hand was simply holding his empty shot glass with a carefree grin. Something came over his features, Ghost recognized it as a long-held desire. “I want to see my home free, Ghost. I want to retire in the mountains, have a family. Raise my children and play with my grandchildren when I am old. Telling them stories of my glory days.” He looked at the Brit. “I cannot do that if my men aren’t reminded of what we’re fighting for now.”

Ghost nodded. “You’re a good leader, Alejandro. An even better man.”

“I try to be.” He gazed at the man. “What of you, hermano? What is your desire?”

He snorted, holding the glass up to his lips. “Don’t die before I’m forty.”

“Brindo por eso,” Alejandro laughed, raising his glass, though his expression dropped into one of almost reverence when the doors to the bar opened. “Dios mío,” he breathed. “Esa mujer prende fuego a mi corazón.”

Ghost turned to look at whatever brought out such devotion from the man, and without even understanding what Alejandro had said, he felt the exact same when his eyes fell on Seraph. She wore a simple black cotton dress, the front hand embroidered with vibrant colors, flowers, and swirls; along her wrists and ankles were delicate gold bracelets, a simple pair of black sandals adorned her feet. Her expression was one of sudden regret when she looked at the men and women in the bar, half still dressed in their gear, the other half still armed—her assumptions of the party were in fact very far off. Her hands were in front of her stomach, fingertips touching as she scanned the room for someone she knew, faces blending together until she met dark brown eyes, and her expression eased into a look of pure relief.

“Eres un afortunado hijo de puta, Ghost,” Alejandro murmured.

“Acordado,” he replied as he watched Seraph part the crowd, heading right for him. Ghost swallowed the rest of the liquor in his glass as she stood before him, taking in the true beauty she was. Eyes delicately brushed with a soft shimmer shadow; lips painted with a petal pink.

She looked at Alejandro with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I didn’t realize tonight was not as casual as I had assumed.”

Alejandro rose to his feet, taking one of her hands as he pressed his lips to the back of it, flattered, “Nunca tienes que arrepentirte de agraciarnos con tu belleza, Ángel.”

A smile lit up her face as she pulled her hand away and placed her hands on his shoulder, pulling him in enough to press her cheek to his. “Se gracias, Alejandro, tú también estás guapo esta noche.” As he pulled from her, he winked at Ghost and wandered off towards Rudy and Soap, leaving the two, and she gestured to the seat. “May I?”

He nodded, turning to the bartender. “Margarita de fresa. Congelado, sal en el borde.” The bartender nodded, taking care of her order and she gave Ghost a surprised look.

“You speak Spanish?”

“Enough to order alcohol,” he retorted, voice gruff, but she heard the humor in it. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing down bashfully. “I think this is the first time I’ve worn makeup in a year and a half. I forget how much better it makes me look.”

Ghost huffed and blurted, “You look more beautiful without it.” Immediately, he shut his eyes and cursed himself, barely managing to suppress the desire to slap a hand over his face and groan.

Her cheeks warmed and she said, “Thank you, Simon.” She gave a quiet, “Gracias” to the bartender when her drink was placed in front of her, and to avoid the embarrassment, she set to drinking.

“Where’d you even get all this?” he asked, gesturing to her dress and jewelry.

“Oh! I bought it a few days ago when Soap and I went out on patrol. The dress, I mean. The jewelry I had back in my pack.” She tugged at the cotton fabric. “Really cheap, but I paid the woman more than needed for it. Figured she could use the money more than I did.”

“Good heart,” he said.

“I wasn’t a winning contestant for nothing,” she joked, taking a bigger sip from her glass; pushing it over, she offered. “Try it.”

He made a face. “I don’t like tequila.”

“Tough titty, said the kitty,” she griped. “Do it.”

Ghost rolled his eyes and picked up her glass, not bothering to shift the glass around where the salt had been disturbed by her lips and downed a swig of it; swallowing, he set it back down and nodded. “Not bad.”

She smiled, heart flipping in her chest as she tapped at the glass. “Mexican tequila is made differently than the usual stuff we drink back overseas. If you really want good tequila, you’ve gotta get it from the source.”

“What are you? An alcohol connoisseur?”

Huffing a laugh, she replied, “One of the contestants in Miss Earth, Miss Mexico, told me a few years ago. Besides, I’ve taken a few trips around the world. You taste a lot of alcohol when you do.”

“Hmm.”

She went back to her drink, ordering another when hers was finished.

“How’s the wound?”

Her hand subconsciously went to her side, and she smiled. “Good. Still sore when I move a certain way, but the round of antibiotics helped.” Tipping her head, she added, “That being said, I don’t want to be shot again any time soon.”

Ghost snorted. “Then this is not the profession for you, Sweetheart.”

“Oh, it is,” she countered. “It just means I need to get sneaky enough to never be seen again.”

“Good luck. Most people do in fact investigate noises when they hear them.”

She gasped with an exaggerated fashion. “Wait! You mean to tell me that real life isn’t like the video games and movies!”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “You’re such an odd duck.”

“Excuse you, Lieutenant, this is twenty-eight years of suppressed oddness finally being comfortable enough to be unleashed.”

“That’s not pleasing.”

“Not meant to be.” She breathed deeply, letting out a content noise as she gently rested her head on his arm. “I really do feel comfortable here, Simon. With you guys.”

“Yeah?” he murmured, looking down at her, trying so hard not to breathe in the scent of vanilla and lilies that seemingly followed her everywhere.

“My father isn’t a good man, Simon,” she whispered, evidently loose-lipped. “I didn’t have a good childhood.”

Ghost hummed lowly. “You don’t have to tell me now, Seraph. Not here where everyone can listen.”

“But I want you to know,” she said, turning her head to gaze at him, eyes sad. “I…want someone to know.” He nodded wordlessly. “This life now, this job, it’s hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. I thought I was going to die when I was in training because I knew nothing about survival or guns or war. But I passed and now I’m here doing this.” She gazed at him. “This is the first time in my life that I’ve chosen something for myself. I clawed my way out of his grip to freedom. Even if it meant doing what we do and having to live with the choices I make, I’m free. I’m free.”

He gently lifted a hand, brushing away a fly away as he commended, “I’m proud of you.” Tears filled her eyes, lips wobbling as she turned her head down, and Ghost took her hand, ignoring the sniffling that came from her as he simply brushed his thumb along her hand. “Not just anyone can crawl out of a hellhole, Seraph. It takes real strength and courage to take that leap.” He squeezed her hand firmly but was careful not to hurt her. “I don’t know who your father is, and I don’t care who he is, but you are not him. You are more. You’re better.”

Her sniffling didn’t let up, but she turned her face into his arm and stayed there for a few minutes until she pulled away and glared at him. “I took all this time to be pretty and look what you did.”

And look he did, at the red rims around her eyes, the tear streaks on her cheeks, and if he was being honest, her nose was running a little, so he tossed her a napkin and said, “Wipe your nose, toddler.”

“You’re an ass,” she griped, but did as he told her, sniffing harshly as she wiped her nose and under her eyes before clearing her throat and declaring, “I want to dance.”

“I don’t dance,” Ghost said.

“I didn’t say I was dancing with you,” she countered and leaned up, pecking his cheek; she slid off the barstool and turned, “Alejandro! Baila conmigo!”

Groans echoed around the room, but Alejandro’s shout of pride echoed higher. “¡Ajá! ¡El Ángel bonita me ha elegido!”

Before he could even think about reaching her, someone had her upper arm, spinning her around to a strong chest as another hand rested on her upper back. She gaped at Ghost. “I thought you said you don’t dance?”

“I don’t,” he reiterated.

A knowing look came across her face, and she teased, “Don’t be so green, Simon. It’s unbecoming of a man like you.”

“And yet I’m still a hot-blooded man just like everyone else.”

She smiled as an upbeat tune filtered through the speakers and she took his hands in hers, joy lighting up her face as she spun around. Soldiers from both teams even gathered in, taking the hands of their friends as the group danced together, laughter echoing all around, drinks pouring. Her eyes never left Simon’s, and neither his hers even as they were pulled away and into other arms and circles.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley imagines #simon riley x reader imagine #simon riley x reader imagines #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost imagine #ghost imagines #ghost x reader imagine #ghost x reader imagines #ghost x reader #ghost #alejandro vargas #rudy parra #rodolfo parra #john soap mactavish #soap #john mactavish #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

I never requested so I don't know if I'm doing it right. But I wanted to request the self aware bsd cast with a shy teen reader with a not so good background. Maybe the reader wants to be writer but gets made fun of for it (bonus points if they look up to poe and oda). I'm not sure if this is the write way to request but feel free to ignore this.

Hello! Hope, you liked it.

Your dream matters

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD characters x GN! Teen! Shy! Reader

Self-Aware! Platonic! Edgar Allan Poe x GN! Teen! Shy! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Oda Sakunosuke (Slight! Self-Aware! Platonic! Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN! Teen! Shy! Reader)

Description: Set after BSD gang got into your world. You always want to be a writer. But no one supports your dream. But then, Bungou Stray Dogs characters get into your world. Your life is changing. Hopefully, for the better.

Fluff, comfort. Reader are well-read.

Warning: Bullies. Neglectful parents and teachers.

Part two: Reunion

OOC. English is my second language.

You loved reading all your life. Ever since you were a child, you prefer reading to playing.

You always wanted to be a writer. You wanted to write about people, about magical worlds, about talking animals. Furthermore, you wanted to share your ideas with others.

Because of your love for literature, you have decided to watch Bungou Stray Dogs. You liked all characters.

But, two characters were your favorite. Edgar Allan Poe and Oda Sakunosuke. Writer and person, who wants to be a writer.

You can even say, that look up to them.

Bungou Stray Dogs characters (especially Poe and Oda) soon became your comfort characters.

Because, you have a feeling, that they won't laugh at your dream to become a writer.

______________________

When you were in a kindergarten, you didn't have any friends. Other children always thought, that reading books is boring. They prefer to play outside, run around.

While you were sitting somewhere in the shade, reading another fairy tale.

You wanted to have friends. You want to have someone to talk to. To discuss books.

...

But you have no one. Other kids don't want to talk to you. They called you boring.

Because if that, when you start going to school, you were shy and quiet.

But this time, you had a dream... A dream to become a writer.

Dream, that everyone laughed at.

At first, it was a homework. To write a short fairy tale about animals.

You wrote about kitten, who was friends with butterflies. And how he helped butterflies to arrange a beautiful celebration.

When you read it to your teacher and classmates, they liked it. But then...

"I want to become a writer!"

Silence. Then your classmates started laughing.

"You will never do it!"

"Writing is not a job!"

"Soon no one will read books!"

And the teacher didn't do anything to calm your classmates down.

You weren't that naive. You understand, that your fairy tale wasn't The best story in the world. But... You were still a child. You are allowed to dream.

You hoped, that your classmates won't laugh at your dream again. Or, at least, you will have someone, that will support you.

...You are in a middle school now. In a year, you will start high school...

Classmates still laughing at you.

"Hey, Super Star of Modern Literature, how many people bought your books today?"

"[Y/N], can we have your autograph? I will show it to my grandchildren. Will tell them that I knew The Great Author when they were a pathetic nobody."

"Why are you still laughing at me? I didn't do anything wrong."

At first, you tried to ask teacher for help. But they ignored you.

"[Y/N], been a writer is a silly, childish dream."

"You won't write anything good. You will never be as good, as real writers "

"But I want to try... What if someone will like my writing?"

At the end you were too shy, too ashamed to ask for help again.

You hoped, that your parents will support your dream.

"[Y/N]! Writing is not a job! You must become a valuable member of society!"

"All writers are lazy alcoholics! Stop wasting your time!"

"But you are drinking without been a writer. You two are stuck in dead-end jobs. You hate working. You don't have hobbies... Why you don't want me to have something that makes me happy? Why you lash out on me instead of going to the gym to do boxing?"

"I... I know, that writing is a lottery, but... I just want to write something... I only want to tell a story"

...

"Please... I just want someone to support me... Just one person"

But at the end, no one supports you. But deep down, you still dream about becoming a writer.

But you never spoke about your dream again.

And then, one day, you saw a picture of Edgar Allan Poe from Bungou Stray Dogs.

After spending some time on learning more about BSD, you decide to watch it.

Then you read the manga.

And install the game.

______________

In the middle of June, characters from the BSD franchise appeared in your room.

____________________

You still weren't sure, how Fitzgerald managed to get this house. You still don't know, how they manage to get a custody over you.

The only thing is clear. You are now living with your comfort characters.

You start changing. At first, you were too shy to spend time with them. Especially with Oda and Poe. But, after something happened, you became more open towards your new family.

You became closer to them, thanks to Fyodor Dostoevsky.

_______________

You walk inside your home library and plopped down on the chair. You groaned and cover your face with both hands.

"Hard day?" you hear someone's voice. You nodded. You hear, that someone move a chair closer to you and sit near. That mysterious someone put a hand on your shoulder. "Want to talk about it?"

You were annoyed. So annoyed, that you decide to vent.

"Today, I had a school literature club meeting. We were discussing our favorite book characters. We could name anyone we want, doesn't matter, who is the author."

You take a breath.

"So I talked about Rodion Raskolnikov from Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment""

It was silent for a moment. Then mysterious someone asked again.

"I guess, teacher doesn't like your answer?"

You nodded again. If you weren't that annoyed, you would notice, that your listener had well known among BSD fans Russian accent.

"Yes. They told me, that Raskolnikov is a terrible person and can't be anyone's favorite. I... I never said that I like what he was doing, but he is more complicated character, that teachers told us about. Moreover, they are doing Dostoevsky dirty, while teaching about him in high school... Oh."

You finally looked at the person, you were talking to.

Right beside you was sitting Fyodor Dostoevsky. His hand was still on your shoulder. The man himself was smiling. He looked both amused and worried.

You want to disappear. You were embarrassed, that Fyodor heard your rant about his real world counterpart.

Fyodor asked you another question.

"Did the teacher let you explain your choice?"

You shook your head, still embarrassed. Fyodor laughs.

"Then why won't you explain it to me?"

You looked at Dostoevsky with a mixture of disbelief and embarrassment.

"I am serious. I want to hear, what's your reasons behind liking Raskolnikov."

Fyodor squeezed your shoulder. You gulp and star talking.

"Well, first, let me tell you what author himself write about Rodion..."

At the end, you and Fyodor had a full on discussion about book characters. Others joined you two.

Starting that day, you slowly, but surely became closer to your new friends. You even confess, that Poe and Oda were your favorite characters.

__________________

You still didn't tell others about your dream. But now, you nave a real notebook to write your ideas in.

Your life changed.

You lived in a new home. With a new family.

But you still were going in the old school.

____________

Mori parked the car not far away from school. He turns towards you and smiles.

"We are here, Little Light. Be careful at school."

"I will, Uncle Ougai, don't worry. See you and other after school"

After getting a hug from Elise and a head pat from Mori (with a quiet "You can call me father, you know?"), you left the car and walked towards the school building.

You hope, that today is going to be good.

____________

This day was terrible.

When you were walking in school halls, someone ran into you. You fall, and your schoolbag was opened. Your notebooks were on the floor. You quickly pick everything up and hurry to the next class.

You didn't notice, that your notebook with writing Ideas were stolen.

After the lunch, you got a notification.

Someone posted photos of your notebook pages on the school site.

And a video. A video of bullies, mockingly reading your notebook. Tearing it apart. Destroying pages.

And comments under the post...

"The Weirdo are still writing?"

"LOL, cringe fanfics!"

"Hey, maybe they have another notebook, where they write porn stories?"

"Will you calm the [CENSORED] down! Stop flaunt your stupid dream before our eyes!"

"Your notebook is only good to be used as toilet paper!"

After school, you hurry home.

____________________

You slam the door behind you. Not paying attention to anyone, you hurry to your room and close the door. Soon everyone heard the muffled cries.

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Chuuya was first one, who spoke.

"Who? Who dared to hurt our [Y/N]?! Who made them cry?"

"I know the answer" Katai, who checked your school site, showed everyone post with your notebook.

Fyodor stood up. His voice was cold.

"I will deal with this little bastards. Kolya, Chuuya, Dazai, you are going with me. Oda, Poe, can you, please, check on [Y/N]? They like you two."

Without other words, Fyodor walked towards the front door. Gogol,

Chuuya and Dazai followed him.

_____________

You heard someone knocking on your door.

"[Y/N]? It's us, Oda and Poe. Can we come in?"

You manage to sob a "yes" and bury your face in a pillow.

The door was opened. Oda and Poe slowly approach your bed. Oda kneel before your bed, while Poe sits on the bed edge.

Oda spoke first.

"We saw the video. Are you okay? The Bullies... They didn't hurt you to take away the notebook, right?"

You sob more and shake your head.

"No... They stole it... Is it wrong for me to dream? Is it wrong for me to want to be a writer?"

Poe put his hand on your back, softly petting it.

"It's not, [Y/N]. Your dream matters. Your dream can become true. I will help you."

Oda spoke again. "And I will also help you."

You look at them in disbelief. Did they just? The characters you always looked up to support you?

Poe answers your silent question.

"I can teach you, how to write. We will do writing exercises, we will discuss your writing, I will give you a critique. I will support you on your way to becoming a writer."

Oda rub away your tears.

"Don't listen to the others, [Y/N], you can become a writer. We will work on it together."

You cried again. This time, out of happiness. You jumped up and hugged both Poe and Oda at the same time. They hug you in return.

"Thanks you so much"

Finally, you have someone, who supports you and your dream.

_____________

🐾 Everyone from the BSD gang will support you.

🐾 Poe is mentoring you. He is a good teacher. He points out what you are doing good and what you are doing bad.

🐾 Oda and Poe will help you publish your first book. Just a little storybook.

🐾 You got good reviews and it was quite popular. You got some money from it.

🐾 You buy presents for everyone. Oda, Poe and Fyodor got a three different "Best Dad in The World" cups from you. Mori was devastated. Now he tries even harder to make sure you see him as a father figure.

🐾 On the side note, now you are being homeschooled.

🐾 The Bullies (seven people), who created a post, were found stuffed in one trashcan. It takes half a day to get them out of it.

🐾 Person, who write a comment about toilet paper, was stuffed in the school toilet.

🐾 Teachers were also scared. Rumors said, that someone attack them and teach them a lesson on "How to be a good teacher".

🐾 Slowly, you are becoming more and more confident. Now you are sure, that you can be a writer. All thanks to your new family.

_____

A/N : The bit about Raskolnikov happened in real life with me. When my literature teacher started asking us about our favourite characters from classic literature, I said, that I loved Raskolnikov. I had a feeling, if my teacher could, she would expell me for this words.

#bungou stray dogs au #self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bsd #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungou stray dogs #gender neutral reader #bsd anime #platonic #Self-Aware Oda Sakunosuke #Self-Aware Edgar Allan Poe #Self-Aware Fyodor Dostoevsky #Platonic Oda Sakunosuke x reader #Platonic Edgar Allan Poe x Rader #Platonic Fyodor Dostoevsky x reader

[fuctacles]

in love and war finale

Spicy Six Challenge by @thefreakandthehair, part 1 here, part 2 here, you know the drill

T | 2466 | pre-relationship | they are confused gay rookies in the 80s | sick-fic I guess?

“Why aren’t you in bed? Or the couch at least?!’

“He has a point.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Well I’ll let you know I moved the phone and I’m sitting in an armchair wrapped in a blanket.”

“Who are you talking to?!”

Steve is glad for Dustin’s irrational fear of his viruses, because it’s the only thing stopping him from ripping the phone out of his hand, maybe pushing him back to bed too.

“Tell him I said hi.”

“Eddie says hi.”

Dustin starts hyperventilating.

Thankfully his mom came to the rescue with a steaming cup of tomato soup.

“It’s great you boys are keeping your spirits up but you shouldn’t be sitting on the floor, Steven. Maybe we could move an armchair for you?”

And thus with their leave, Steve had a cozy station next to the phone, piled with blankets and pillows. Not dissimilar to Eddie’s on the other end, whom he called as soon as the Henderson’s left.

“So, you were saying?”

“You know this stays between us? This is the most intimate Eddie Munson knowledge that you’re not to share with anyone else.”

Steve laughs. Just hearing him joke was helping his body recover and he feared he'll be ready to go back to work soon.

“Tell me your dirty secrets, Munson.”

“So, this dungeon I’m working on is a cursed tomb of an overthrown mayor…”

Steve likes a good story. Everyone does. He was never that much into fantasy, but the fact that one of his favorite people came up with it made it a thousand times more interesting.

“Ah, I guess it’s my turn for the kid’s visit.” Eddie interrupts himself about fifteen minutes in. “Do you also feel like you’re on a deathbed, visited by your grandchildren in hopes they'll be in the will? He’s getting the dice anyway...”

Steve snorts.

“Now that you mention it…”

“Are you guys still on the phone?!” Dustin’s voice is so loud Steve hears it clear as day on his end.

“Yeah, sorry babe, I’ll call you back.”

The line goes silent. 

And Steve knows he’s joking with the pet names, teasing in the silly way that he does but the more he hears him in his ear, the more he realizes he wants it, wants to try. He hopes Eddie wants it too.

His cold lets off faster than Eddie’s and he’s anxiety-cleaning as soon as he feels the strength to do so. He cleans the pj’s and sheets at boiling temperature so instead of sweat and sickness they smell like ‘provencal dreams’ which he thinks means lavender. The pills and syrups scattered on the coffee table get into the medicine basket. The armchair though, stays by the telephone. He’s waiting for Eddie to wake up and call him (so he can call back not to put the enormous phone bill on him) like he’s been doing for the past two days. Being sick together was almost as bonding as fighting evil. 

When the phone rings he runs to reach it and is almost embarrassed to do so, so he takes a second to breathe before picking up.

“Hello?”

“You don’t have to call me back.”

“Ah, sorry, the reception is shit, I can barely hear you. Let me call you back in a second.” He grins to himself when he hears Eddie’s resigned sigh. He dials the number from the emergency list above his phone immediately. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling like a fool.

“Well, someone sounds chipper today” 

“Yeah, I think I'm good to leave the house, finally. Also, this guy I like keeps me company in my misery.”

“Oh? He sounds like a nice dude.”

“He is,” Steve smiles, sitting down and pulling his legs up onto the seat. “He cares about his friends, saves the world sometimes, and hosts this dorky game for a bunch of nerds on the weekends. A true samaritan.”

“You think so?” Eddie sounds quiet on the other side. 

“Yeah. That's how I see it, at least.” He frowns, fingers twirling the cord anxiously, worried he stepped over a line. That’d suck because he had planned to step over some more today. 

“Thanks. I think you’re a nice guy too.”

It was the simplest compliment he’d ever gotten, but it made something in his chest tighten.

“Yeah?”

“Duh. You jump into demonic waters head first and ferry around a bunch of ungrateful kids.”

Steve snorts.

“That I do.” And then, before the conversation gets even further away from him, he adds, “Hey, listen. Since I’m feeling better, I’ll probably be back at work tomorrow.”

Eddie made a disappointed grunt on the other side.

“So I was wondering if I could visit you today? Maybe take over Dustin’s soup delivery?”

Eddie makes a sound that he’s unable to interpret.

“If you don’t feel up to it, it’s okay-”

“Shut up, I’m thinking.”

So Steve presses his lips together and waits.

Eddie sighs. 

“I’m feeling better, I guess you can visit if you don’t mind a sick person mess.”

“I just cleaned up mine today, no worries.”

“Yeah, okay. But about… the other thing…”

He trails off and Steve is one step away from biting his nails off. Or the phone cord in half. 

“You’re still sick and thinking about it, I-”

“Steve! Let. Me. Speak.”

He makes a noise of agreement into the receiver. 

“Like, I think I need to see you. Because I know you are hot, objectively. But do I think you are hot? Does my dick think you’re hot?”

“Eddie-”

“I’m speaking.”

Steve bites his lips with a smile. He can feel himself blush.

“So I have some things to verify. Come over, Wayne’s not home.”

Steve can’t help it, he bursts into hysteric giggles over Eddie’s attempt at a seductive voice with his clogged nose.

“Hey, now-”

“No, no, I’d love to. Should I bring protection? Like a face mask?” He manages between giggles. 

“Oh, you little-!”

He doesn’t remember the last time he had so much fun flirting. He curbs his amusement to manageable levels and looks at the clock. 

“I’ll call Ms Claudia if she has any special deliveries for us today. I could pick them up and be at yours in an hour, maybe two.”

“Sounds great.”

“Want me to pick up something?”

“I’d kill for a can of coke.”

“Got it. I’ll bring a movie we could watch too.”

Eddie hums his approval.

“Something light that my sick brain can process, please. I’ve had enough fever dreams about war and Russians. Never again letting Wayne pick the movie when I’m sick.”

Steve snorts.

“Okay, noted. See you soon?”

“See you soon, Steve-o.”

Claudia isn’t thrilled by his plan to visit Eddie, but a mother’s disapproval hasn’t stopped him before and certainly wasn’t going to now. He accepts the jars of soup, kisses her on both cheeks, and lets her tuck him up for the short walk from the door to his car. 

The drive is shorter than he expects, even with the partially shoveled roads. He feels completely unprepared for whatever might happen at his destination but he pushes on because the uncertainty might make him sick again. 

A tiny note on the inside of the window tells him the door is unlocked so with little hesitance, he pushes in. He knocks on the door, looking around.

“Eddie?”

“Over here!”

His voice sounds way better in real life than it did over the phone and Steve locks the door and unties his shoes to follow it. Eddie is sitting on his bed, wrapped in at least two blankets, and there are books and notebooks surrounding him. 

“Welcome, welcome!” he grins at him, which lights up his face prettily despite the unmistakable traces of battling the flu. His nose is red and dry from constantly wiping it, his face pale and his lips chapped. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes and the little hair peeking from under a blanket hood looks greasy.

Steve wants to give him a hot bath, wash and condition his hair, and moisturize his whole body, which is a weird thought to have about a romantic interest, even for him.

“Did you bring the goods?”

Steve holds up the plastic bag in his hand, making the jars inside clink. If only Ms. Henderson could see the sparkle in Eddie’s eyes at the sight of her soup, and how he brushes his hands together happily.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, then.”

Steve shakes his head.

“You can stay here, I can do it.”

But Eddie is already up, shaking his curls back at him. 

“And burn our new trailer to the ground? No thanks. The stove is a bitch and only the chosen ones can operate it without injuries. I’ll show you how to work it.”

Steve is listening to him, but he’s also very fixated on the bat pattern of his pajama bottoms and the fluffy green socks he’s wearing. One of the blankets he kept on flows behind like a cape.

“Okay, but I’m doing it,” he insists, following behind and just a tiny bit unmoored by the conversation. He was expecting something less… Normal. More awkwardness, confessions, and hurt feelings. That’s what he’s been preparing for.

“Of course, my shiny knight, of course,” Eddie assures him, reaching for a pot. “Will this be big enough?” he asks, eyeing the jars Steve’s putting on the counter.

“Think so.” He shrugs, eyeing the pot and opening the jars. 

“Okay, come here.” Eddie motions him closer and Steve obliges, standing right next to him and the heat he’s radiating. He smells a bit sweaty, which is understandable, but he can smell the minty toothpaste on his breath, meaning he brushed his teeth before Steve’s arrival. He tried not to think about the implications of it. 

“Okay, so never try to light the right top burner…”

He listens closely to all the instructions and shoos Eddie away as soon as possible to operate the stove under his watchful eye from one of the kitchen chairs. He goes through three matches to get the fire going under the pot but he gets the soup on the burner without much more damage.

“Do I get the Chosen One title yet?” he asks as he idly stirs the soup.

Eddie snorts.

“Don’t get cocky before finishing, dear Steven.”

“Fine,” he huffs. 

The silence settles between them and he doesn’t know where to go from there. But he told himself before coming that he’d wait patiently for Eddie’s answer and simply bask in his presence without pushing. Maybe turn up his charm if it feels right but that’s all. 

“What have you been doing stuck at home?” he asks, the need to break the silence overwhelming. 

Eddie hums, his eyes unfocused on the heating soup.

“Read Hobbit for the eleventy-first time, polished the postponed campaign, and planned for the next one already. Though, with these little bastards, it was probably a waste of my time. Rewatched a couple of movies?” he adds, voice tilting like it’s a question. When Steve hums in interest, he continues. “Paid extra attention to the actors. Turns out, Harrison Ford? Kinda hot.”

Steve snorts, taken aback, and when he turns, Eddie’s grinning at him sheepishly. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I might be into dudes, after all.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” He smacks his lips obnoxiously and sucks in a breath. “You know, last time I tried to ask someone out, she said she was not interested at all, in anyone, and skipped town.”

Steve whines sympathetically. 

“Shit, man. I’ve never chased a girl out of town.”

“It did numbers on my self-esteem, I’ll tell you that.”

“I promise to stay in town if you ask me out.”

“Would that make me the guy?”

Steve cocked his head and studied Eddie for a while. He never thought about the dynamics of a same-sex relationship. Would he like to be ‘the girl’? Wooed and treated gently, gifted with flowers? Kissed on the neck, and spooned to sleep? He felt his cheeks grow hot at the imagery.

Unfortunately, Eddie noticed and his smile grew.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

Steve shrugs, turning back to the soup.

“Aww, you’d like to be my princess, pampered with gifts and kisses?”

Steve made a point of focusing on his task and hiding his face. 

“So what?” He bristled. “What if I do? Would it be… Is that bad?”

“What? No! Why would it be bad?”

He shrugs. He doesn’t know why but something in his gut keeps telling him it is.

“Why would wanting to be cared for, be bad?”

“Uh, well…” Steve focuses his stinging eyes on the soup. He’ll have to turn it off soon and won’t have any excuses not to look at Eddie.

There’s a shuffle behind him and soon a warm body presses against his back, hugging him from behind. Eddie’s still wrapped in a blanket so they make a slightly awkward bundle against the stove.

“Besides, Princess Stevie sounds waaay better than King Steve,” Eddie presents his final argument and Steve lets out a surprised snort.

“You’re such a fucking weirdo, I swear.”

“Well, it worked on you, sooo…”

“And I still have no idea how,” he sighs dramatically. He squeezes the arms around him gently and turns off the stove before nudging Eddie away so he can pour the soup into bowls. They sit down to eat and when he hands Eddie a spoon he ignores it and slurps the soup straight from the bowl.

“Savage.” Steve rolls his eyes but can’t fight his amusement at his antics. Eddie smacks his lips loudly and grins.

“So, anyway…” He drums his fingers against the bowl. “Do you wanna go out, whenever Wayne gives me the all-clear to leave the house?”

Steve grins, watching the loud man be hesitant for once.

“Are you asking me on a date, Munson?”

His already red nose gets even redder.

“We don’t have to call it a date, we can just hang out, just the two of us.”

“Nah, I’d rather call it a date.”

Eddie inhales and a smile spreads on his face.

“Okay. Let’s do it then. Arcade? I feel like cinema dates are such a cliche.”

“Yeah, but there’s this new movie I’d like to argue with you about.”

“Is it The Fly? Or The Little Shop of Horrors?” Eddie prods with excitement. Because a heated debate on the first date sounds utmost alluring.

Steve extends his leg under the table, nudging softly at Eddie’s ankle. He nudges back with a grin and they rest their legs against each other. A simple touch they can settle on until Eddie gets better, until the date they plan in the cramped kitchen over bowls of soup until the sky turns dark.

#spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #mine #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #steddie one shot #steddie fluff

[trivalentlinks]

saw this cute reddit Am I the Asshole post by reddit user tway23421 with peak enemies-to-friends energy and thought my friends here might like it.

Also here's another enemies to friends story from its comment section with a similar energy, but from the rebellious asshole kid perspective (by reddit user D_OShae)

AITA (Am I the Asshole) abbreviations:

WIBTA = would I be the asshole

NTA = not the asshole

[Image ID

1st image: reddit r/AmITheAsshole

Posted by u/tway23421 11 hours ago

WIBTA for spraying some kid with my garden hose daily after he walks all over our lawn

I (37M) live with my wife (37F) and son and daughter ( 9 and 11 respectively).

Recently, there has been this kid who comes by our house after playing soccer and either rides his bike or walks over the lawn with his cleats on his way home.

It started out as me giving him stern looks whenever I saw him, then it slowly progressed to me asking him to just go around.

The last time I asked him to stop he made a point to stomp extra hard and twist his feet in to the grass to piss me off.

Since then Ive just been hosing him. The first time I sprayed him with the hose he ran off, but then for some reason he just started standing there while I hose him like he enjoys it.

Its now progressed to me sitting on my lawn chair pointing my hose at him, and him just staring at me while he does so. Sometimes we even make small talk.

Im ngl, it started off as a really bitter relationship, but Ive actually gotten to know the kid quite well, we talk for maybe 15-20 mins everyday, and he doesnt seem to mind being hosed down after sweating hard playing soccer.

He comes by daily and we just shoot the shit while I hose him and he stands there for a bit.

Wife told me I need to stop, even after I explained it to her she said Im making us look like childish idiots.

I guess I could stop, but honestly its really funny waiting for him to come by and I see no harm in it. WIBTA?

2nd image:

Comment by D_OShae 4 hours ago:

NTA, and this is actually kind of sweet.

When I was in my teens, I used to visit a small greasy spoon (diner) where my friend was a waitress. This old guy (late 70s) came in every day at the same time and sat in the same booth. He would order one of three meals. One time I sat in "his" booth doing some homework (and drinking a ton of coffee refills). The man came in and told me -- not asked -- that I needed to move. I did. It happened again a couple of weeks later. He called me a little bastard for sitting his both. A couple of days later, I did it again on purpose. He called me a little bastard and told me to move. I moved my books. The man grumbled and sat down.

Over the course of about two months this scenario got repeated. Somewhere along the line I asked him about a ring he wore. The stories started to come out. I learned he and his late wife came to that restaurant for over 20 years to have dinner. I was sitting in her place. However, I kept asking questions, and he kept relaying his stories. This man lead an AMAZING life, and I listened to any tale he wanted to share. This went on for two years.

When he died at the age of 81, I went to his memorial. I met his children and grandchildren. When they asked how I knew him, I told them my tale. His children laughed because he called everyone a little bastard, male and female alike. Then I began to recount some of the stories he told me. His children verified some, but then they heard stories he never told them. I ended up meeting with his children several times to tell them everything he told me.

Mr. Banhke, I am not a believer, like I told you many times, but I still think of you and your incredible life. You are not forgotten.

]

AITA (Am I the Asshole) abbreviations:

WIBTA = would I be the asshole

NTA = not the asshole

#reddit aita #reddit #enemies to friends

[rainontherooftops]

Cradle

Summary: FBI Agent Marcus Pike finds out that one of his agents is pregnant - yet still insists on going into the field and taking risks. Fighting his feelings for her, he needs to step up and be a boss instead of a caring friend.

Fandom: The Mentalist - Pedro Pascal as FBI Agent Marcus Pike Genre: Colleagues toFriends to Lovers, Drama, Family Drama, Pregnancy Pairing: Marcus x f! Reader Triggers : Mentions of pregnancy and broken family dynamics, mentions of abortion and misscarriage Rating : T

IMPORTANT INFO: THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY FORMER TUMBLR BLOG

+++

Cradle

„Being pregnant is not the problem here, mother!”

Eavesdropping, Marcus thought, was an awful thing. And he really didn’t want to eavesdrop. But you weren’t exactly silent on the phone as you argued with your mother.

He had asked you to come into work on a Saturday morning, in hopes to finally catch a break on the case the team had been working on, when the building was less busy.

Two coffees and pastries from your favorite bakery down the block in his hand, he had almost knocked on the door to your office – until he had heard your voice through the door and stopped in shock.

He could, of course, double back and give you your privacy, wait five minutes until he was sure that your argument was over – but this was a delicate topic.

Chastising himself for eavesdropping, he sharpened his ears. You were one of his agents. If you were pregnant, he didn’t exactly have the right to know, but he should probably think about not sending you out into the field anymore.

Marcus didn’t have the time to think things over or digest the information that you were pregnant, because you were still shouting at your mother.

“Ohh, no, you can’t play that card. It is not the woman’s fault when the bastard who impregnated her leaves her as soon as he finds out! If you want to blame someone, blame Curtis. He’s the one who packed his bags and hauled ass. The pee hadn’t even dried on the pregnancy test!”

He really, really shouldn’t listen. But the story got spicier, and more heart-wrecking by the minute. Marcus hadn’t even known that you had been seeing someone. He had even hoped that there was a spark between the two of you. But now-

“No, Mom, just no. Don’t bring God into this! It’s all ‘be a good, Christian, abstinent girl’ – until the day you turn twenty-one. Ever since that day you’ve asked about ‘potential husbands and grandchildren’.”

Marcus suppressed a sigh. He knew that your relationship with your mother was strained at the best of times, but right now, it seemed positively chaotic.

“Abortion?! Mom! You’ve been complaining to your friends about the lack of grandchildren for years, and now that there’s one on the way you want to get rid of it?! Just because it doesn’t come with a marriage certificate? Fuck you! Either you show some fucking support for your daughter and your future grandchild, or you prepare for a future without them. Your choice.”

Marcus almost dropped the coffees when he jumped back as the cellphone that you had probably been shouting into hit the heavy oak door with a shattering smash. He could hear you groaning and cursing, and he knew it was time to retreat.

Thanking the gods above for the carpeted floor in the old building that hosted the art department, he slowly walked back towards the doors.

He made it around a corner just in time; he heard the door of your office open and close again. Deeming it save to appear now, he put on his best bland face so as to not rise suspicion that he had heard and now knew your secret.

You had been power walking so fast towards him that he almost collided with you in the hallway.

“Woah, good morning there.”

Marcus could see the anger in your face, the storm in your eyes and that you were still fuming. But as soon as your gazes met, he thought that your features softened a little.

An exhausted sigh left your lips as you stopped in front of him.

“Marcus. Sorry, I didn’t look where I was-… Please tell me those are pastries from Cherry’s.”

He smiled.

“It’s the least I can get you when you’re willing to come in on a Saturday”

Pregnant, and probably with a lot of other things on your mind, he added in his thoughts, trying not to worry.

Normally he’d ask you how you are, but he refrained today, just handing you your coffee. After all, he knew that you were not feeling good. Also, he was afraid.

Of course he would listen to your problems if you decided to tell him – but somehow he wasn’t ready for it.

**

You hadn’t talked to your mother in six weeks. Between working on cases and reading books about babies and pregnancies, there was one more thing that weighed on your thoughts – Marcus Pike.

Your boss slash friend slash secret crush was acting weird. His mood altered between being nervous around you to straight up ignoring you. And every time a new case came in, he asked you to stay behind and do the research instead of going into the field.

Had you done something wrong? Were you being punished? Marcus knew you were a damn good field agent – so why was he benching you?

It didn’t just hurt your pride that he was effectively “demoting” you – it also hurt that somehow you had seemed to lose his friendship over the last weeks.

The breaking point came during an “all hands on deck” situation, where you slipped into your stab vest and prepared to leave with the rest of the crew, when Marcus turned around and told you to stay.

Your colleagues had of course noticed that something had changed in the last weeks – they were trained agents after all. You wanted to say something, but Marcus lifted his fingers, and it seemed like he was trying to keep it together.

“Please, just don’t argue with me on this. Stay here.”

“But why? Marcus, seriously, we need all the people we- “

“I told you to stay, agent, and that’s final!”, he shouted, effectively silencing the whole bullpen.

Nobody tried to hide their stares. Never had any of them seen Special Agent Pike lose his cool.

“Fine…”, you growled, throwing your stab vest on the ground and stomping back to your office.

You could see that your colleagues were eyeing you and Marcus with curious glances, their eyes burning into your skin.

**

It was 3. A. M. when Marcus returned to his apartment, only to see you sitting beneath his doorframe, shivering, and waiting for him to get home.

Th glare he received made his skin crawl – but he had done what he had to do. You were taking too many risks, actively putting the baby and yourself in peril – and he would not stand for that.

If you still weren’t feeling like telling him that you would be out of duty soon, then he had to take the reins.

“Why are you lurking at my door, agent?”, Marcus asked, exhausted, fumbling for his keys.

You were getting up and it took all the strength in him to not scoop down or lend you a hand. Every fiber of his being wanted to help you – but technically he still didn’t know about the pregnancy.

“Don’t ‘agent’ me, Marcus. I’m not here as your employee, I’m here as your friend.”

Sighing, he opened the door and let you in. Darkness surrounded you, only the faintest moonlight illuminating the hallway.

Marcus suddenly yelped in pain when you punched his upper arm as hard as you could.

“Oi!”

“What the fuck”, you complained, “was that earlier? What did I do, Marcus? Why have you been ignoring me? Why have you been benching me?”

Growling and frustrated, Marcus massaged his sore arm and trotted into the living room, turning the light on, carelessly throwing his leather jacket towards a chair.

“I could ask you the same thing. What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you still insisting on going into the field?”

That sentence earned him a confused look and two arms crossed in front of a heaving chest.

“What do you mean ‘still’? Why shouldn’t I go out into the field anymore?”

Marcus was fumbling, pacing up and down. He knew he had to tell you now that he knew you were pregnant. He had to face his feelings.

The feelings of rejection he had felt ever since he found out. The feeling of losing hope once again and heartbreak – heartbreak about a woman he had not even had a first date with yet.

“Because… Because of your condition.”

“My condition? Marcus, what…”

“Oh, for fucks sake, I know you’re pregnant, okay? I accidentally overheard you fighting with your mother on the phone”, he exploded, sitting down on the sofa and running his hands through his hair.

He had thought a lot about your predicament in the last weeks. Would you be alright as a single mother? Where could he find this bastard who had left you and kick his ass, make sure he paid child support?

How much help would you accept?

Should he… Should he offer to help out with the baby?

He expected for you to shout at him, to be mad, to cry or to leave the apartment, but instead he heard you ask: “Marcus? What is this?”

Turning his head, he saw you kneeling on the living room floor and cursed inwardly.

On one of his trips to an antique store in the last weeks he had found an old-fashioned wooden cradle and he had thought of you and your child.

He had bought it and some mint green paint from the hardware store and had repainted it. Now it was standing on a stack of old newspapers, waiting for finishing touches. It was supposed to be a surprise present.

Sighing, he leaned against his couch cushions.

“A present for your baby. I found it in an old antique store, and I thought it would be a nice thing to get you.”

Marcus watched you as you stood back up and stepped toward him, plopping yourself onto the couch, your thighs touching his. You grabbed his hand in yours and squeezed it.

“That… that is very sweet of you Marcus. But I’m not pregnant.”

His second hand enveloped your intertwined ones and goosebumps were crawling along his skin. All the color left his face and it suddenly felt like his heart dropped into his stomach.

“D-did… Did you lose the baby? I’m so- I’m so sorry. That must be so horrible. No wonder you were mad. I’m…”

With the one free hand you had left, you silenced him by placing two fingers to his lips.

You shook your head.

“I didn’t lose the baby, Marcus. You misunderstood. I was never pregnant in the first place.”

His shock was now replaced by confusion. He remembered the phone call vividly, had repeated it in his head a lot of times.

“My sister Caitlyn is moving in with me next month”, you then explained, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Her boyfriend Curtis left her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. Just packed his bags and left, the bastard. My mom is not happy about it, but she is more concerned with what people might think about Caitlyn having a child out of wedlock than anything else. She’s ten years younger than me, only twenty-two, and honestly pretty scared and lonely.”

Marcus could feel the weight that had been pressing on his chest in the last six weeks lifted from his chest. Your sister was pregnant.

“I thought I had done something to make you mad at me – or worse, did something to disappoint you. But you just wanted to protect me because you thought I was with child.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. And that earned him another, yet lighter, punch.

“Don’t apologize for being the sweetest man alive, dumbass.”

Marcus could feel your heard on your shoulder turn towards the cradle again.

“You would have gotten me a cradle?”

He gulped, suddenly realizing the very close proximity you were in. You were still holding hands, the left side of your body pressed against his right.

“It’s… It’s still yours if you want it. I mean, your sisters. I’d like to help any way I can”, he said.

He could almost feel you smile next to him.

“Of course you do. You’re wonderful, Marcus.”

“I’m not. I’m selfish.”

“Why’d you say that?”

Now or never, Pike, he thought, shifting to look into your eyes.

“I didn’t bench you because I thought it would be dangerous for you to be out in the field. Well, yes, I did, but that was not my main motivation. I ignored you and benched you because every time I looked at you and thought about… you know… I got incredibly jealous.”

He could see in your eyes that you couldn’t follow, so he continued, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. Were his hands getting clammier?

“I… I like you. A lot. Have liked you for a while. And when I heard that you were pregnant and that you were left behind, all I felt was jealousy. I was jealous of the guy that you had apparently loved. I wanted to- “

Marcus was silenced by a pair of soft, eager lips who sealed his mouth with a kiss that was both sweet and innocent, yet still needy and full of passion.

Before he could reciprocate however, you retreated, biting your lower lip and shyly smiling up at him.

“Oh…”.

“Yes, oh”, you giggled.

“So... does this mean you… I mean…”

You snuggled back into him, now wrapping your arms around his torso, leaning your head on his chest.

“I like you too, Marcus. A lot.”

“Thank you?”

He could feel your chuckles against his ribcage. Carefully he rested his hands against your body, rubbing your shoulders.

“D’you think your sister will like the cradle?”

“I’m sure she will love it.”

**

AN: Abortion is healthcare. Nobody should be forced to carry a child they can not provide for - or be forced to give a reason why a pregnancy is being terminated. The only reason it is mentioned here as no viable option is because of the history with the mother.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character #marcus pike #marcus pike x female reader #colleagues to friends to lovers #colleagues to lovers #pregnancy

[eventinelysplayground]

A Mother's Touch

It's March 5 today and we know what that means, it's the 1st princes Birthday! So Happy Birthday to him and here is a story for it. I'd like to say this is a happy story but that wasn't the inspo I had so, it's one that will hit you in the feels. That said if you're currently grieving a more recent death maybe give it a skip for now. Jin remembers the last birthday that he had with his mother. WC approx 688.

The last of the snow had finally vanished leaving the ground muddy and cold. Down a worn path walked a single figure one hand shoved into his pocket and a bouquet of flowers in the other. The figure came to a halt in the corner of a mass grave before a tiny tombstone.

“Hi Mom, I brought these for you.”

Jin knelt down and placed the flowers gingerly beside the tombstone before sighing and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

“I know I haven't come to see you in a while but things have been a little busy lately. How about I get comfy and tell you all about it?”

Jin took off his coat and set it on the ground then took a seat on it bringing his knees up and resting his arms across them.

“Emma had the baby a few months ago, he has her eyes and my hair. Louder than his big brother and sister were though that's for sure, biggest appetite too!

Emma's doing just fine, it amazes me every time you know? She told me once she wanted to get stronger for me and boy did she ever!”

A tender smile spread across Jin's face as he talked. He talked for quite a while telling his Mom about anything that came to mind but especially about her grandchildren and daughter in law and just how happy he was.

Jin came to a lull in his update and laced his fingers together while looking up at the clear sky. After several minutes of silence he cleared his throat and resumed.

“Hey Mom? I actually had a specific reason for coming here today. See I haven't been doing so well these last few days, Emma noticed of course and we thought maybe me coming to see you would help. Now don't worry, nothing's wrong with any of us, it's just….”

Jin trailed off staring silently into the sky, his mouth feeling oddly dry.

“It was Emmett's birthday yesterday Mom, his sixth birthday. It was a great party, Emma made his cake while Yves made everything else. The kid had such a feast and he was surrounded by his family and friends. I should have been happy but, it got me thinking about the last birthday I had with you. Do you remember it Mom?”

Jin finally looked back down at the tiny gravestone, a sad fondness lighting up his eyes.

“You had already gotten sick by then. I was so worried about you I wasn't even thinking about my birthday but you remembered it for me. Even back then I could charm the ladies real well, the old lady I helped out most of the day paid me a bit extra so I got bread and cheese that night to eat. I got home and you were sitting up in bed with a big smile on your face. You praised me for all my hard work as I told you about my day over dinner.

Then when we were done eating you pulled out a handkerchief tied with a bow and handed it to me. I don't know how I looked but I must have looked pretty confused because you laughed at me, told me ‘don't just stare at it sweety open it’. There was a lollipop inside it, a big blue one. I remember I was amazed at its color. Then you drew me into the biggest hug and told me ‘Happy Birthday my sweet boy’ while smiling at me.”

Jin's voice cracked on those last words as his tears threatened to spill over.

“That night was the most I had seen you smile in a long time and it made that lollipop taste so much sweeter.”

Jin reached out and rested a big hand on top of the tiny gravestone.

“I wish you could be here with us, but since you can't I'll just keep making sure that Emma and our kids get to have the life you and I never did.”

Jin’s tears fell silently and for the briefest moment he could swear he felt his mother's gentle touch wiping them away.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince jin #ikepri jin #jin grandet #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikepri fanfic

[agostobuwan]

forged by fire and crafted with care

firstprince | Henry holds the high expectations of the Crown on his shoulders, and it crushes him to the point of self-doubt and self-sabotage. That is, until he finally chooses a life for himself and chooses to live truthfully. He refuses to hide among the shadows no longer. He is Henry Fox, and no one will take that away from him.

OR The story of Henry's bravery and journey towards happiness as told through different pieces of jewelry.

5.5k words, rwrb-compliant, henry-centric, based on this beautiful piece of artwork by @artofobsession

Also read on AO3

--

Bea makes him a bracelet of beads and thread when he is six years old. It’s pink and sparkly and fits loosely on his small wrist when she puts it on for him. He can spell his name out just fine—he tells his Papa he’s a big boy almost everyday—so he can see that his sister added beads to spell out his name. 

H-E-N-R-Y. 

He traces his fingers over the letters and the sparkly pink beads around his wrist. It’s very pretty. 

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a friendship bracelet, Henry. All my friends at school were making one, so I thought I could make one for you, too.”

“But you’re my sister.”

“Sisters can be your friend, too, silly.” 

“Oh. Well. But I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to be my best friend, Bea.” 

His sister laughs, and it’s the best thing he’s ever heard—well, second best, next to his Papa’s voices when he tells him his bedtime stories.

“Okay, okay, fine! I’ll be your best friend, Hen. As long as you’re mine.” 

That night, when he is all tucked in under the covers and in his warm pajamas, he traces the black, blocky letters of his name and smiles, big, unrestrained, and most importantly, happy. He doesn’t have to wonder what his grandmother truly thinks about boys who play with their sister’s dolls and wear pink, sparkly bracelets. That will happen another day. 

For now, as he falls asleep with Bea’s friendship bracelet secured around his tiny wrist, he doesn’t have to worry about the entire world’s burdens bearing down on his shoulders just yet.  

****

His grandmother gifts him a watch that sits heavy on his wrist. It is a present fit for a man—fit for a king (even though he is only the spare)—and at thirteen years of age, he is already expected to act like one. She tells him that the watch will build character. That it will finally make him focus on playing the part of the dutiful Prince of England. 

“A prince’s wardrobe will not be complete without a solid timepiece,” she tells Henry as she passes the box to him on the evening of his thirteenth birthday, and her voice has yet to adopt the tinge of disappointment that always seemed to be reserved for her two youngest grandchildren. That will come at a later time. 

While the craftsmanship is objectively beautiful, the watch is rather bulky, interlaced silver brackets for the wristband with a deep blue face, gold accented numbers, and sturdy hands fixed meticulously to its center. It is the kind of accessory a boy his age is expected to wear. If it is quiet enough, he can hear the solid ticks and tocks of the watch’s inner machinations, a foreboding countdown to something further down the line.

But the line doesn’t seem far enough, and he is sent to Eton that following fall. He is terrified.

He is a sensitive soul, or that is what he overhears his family, but mostly his grandmother, says about him. He doesn’t know what it means, but he guesses it has something to do with why he’s so poor at making friends, even if he is a prince. During the first few months at school, he struggles to open up to the other boys in his year, choosing instead to hide away in the library or in his dormitory and bury his nose in a book when he isn’t in his classes. 

The extra-curriculars he is expected to accomplish break open his shell, but only just. It isn’t until Percy Okonjo forcibly inserts himself into his life that he starts to feel the armor around his heart begin to crack. 

****

Pez is a whirlwind, a summer storm, a rogue wave violently crashing into a wall of stone. He barrels into his life and never leaves, taking him by the hand and showing him a new world beyond the palace walls. He chips away at his armored heart with relative ease, and Henry has no idea how he is able to let his sensitive soul be placated by this boy of ultimate exuberance. He is gregarious where he is not. He is the extrovert that somehow has given one look at Henry and decided to keep an introvert like him forever.

And somewhere along the line, he decides he wants to keep him, too. 

Their later years at Eton are spent hopping between dormitories, with the other uppercrust boys in their year and above, who are one day going to run England to the ground. They sneak in liquor from their father’s cabinets, the head boys pointedly looking the other way so they can join in on the merriment. They do ridiculous, stupid things, and drink themselves even stupider. 

For the first time in a while, he feels free. 

Henry is absolutely sloshed from stolen vodka and sambuca shots when Pez suggests he stick a needle through his earlobes. At least he has the wits about him to ask him why.

“Because! It’s what the cool kids do, Hazza.” 

“You are fucking mental. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Just live a little, darling! Look, I’ve done this before, so you just need to hold still, sit pretty, and let Auntie Pezza do all the work. And besides, don’t you just want to absolutely piss off your old Gran?” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but the rebellious part of him takes over, and he decides that yes, he does want to piss off the Queen of England . He doesn’t need much convincing, piss drunk and all, and against his better judgment, he takes another huge swig from the vodka bottle right before Pez pushes the needle into the fleshy part of his ear. He chases down another mouthful when Pez has to the other one, and all he’s thinking about is how horrified his Gran will be if she sees the right state he’s in now.

The alcohol does enough to mask the stinging pain, and everything becomes a right blur after that. When he wakes up hours later, head pounding and mouth dry as sandpaper, his ears are throbbing, the skin pink and angry, and there is a silver stud in each of his earlobes. 

“Oh, bloody hell.”

 ****

His father leaves and the only thing left of him is his memories and the signet ring on his little finger, the one he had presented to him when he’d just turned eighteen. He presses his thumb hard against the ‘H’ engraved into the face of it, feeling the grooves etched into the metal and thinking about his father all the while. He can almost feel his warmth embedded in the metal, but he knows it is only his grief blinding him with wishful thinking and a vibrant imagination. 

He twists the ring round and round, mimicking the downward spiral he feels himself succumbing to as he watches his father’s coffin being lowered into the ground. 

Then, he loses a mother, a brother, and a sister not long after. Mama loses her heart. Pip loses his love. Bea loses herself. And he is all alone with nothing but the memories of his loving father to remind him of what he has lost.

The world is heavy on his shoulders, and he doesn’t know what else to do. 

****

It’s his birthday, and he feels a little less like the world’s closing in on itself now that his psychiatrist has re-adjusted his medication. He still doesn’t sleep all that well at night, but it is still a start. 

He doesn’t hear from his mother, but he does receive a message via Shaan to “buy himself something special” along with an envelope full of banknotes. He understands why she travels so much, but one can only do so much to distract themselves from the pain of losing a loved one. He tried. Bea tried. Even Philip tried. It’s been years, and his mother is not the same person he used to know. 

He asks Bea to accompany him for lunch, their PPOs trailing a few paces behind them. He hopes he can use his birthday to establish some kind of normalcy since it is just the two of them. Twenty-two, after all, is just a number. There isn’t anything significant about the age. No extravagant milestones attached to its connotation. But still, there are only two things worth noting on the day he turns twenty-two years old: Bea is sober, and he is gay. 

After lunch, Bea takes him shopping to make use of the money their mother sent to him to spend, but nothing catches his eye. That is, until they’re in an antique shop, and he sees a pearl necklace sitting in the display case. 

The string of pearls is delicate, reminiscent of the friendship bracelet Bea made him all those years ago. It looks as if it is glowing, like tiny moons held together by a gossamer of stars, and he wonders, wistfully, how it would feel on his skin.  

“Oh, Hen. It’s so beautiful. I think you should get it.”

Bea is the only one who knows who he truly is. She is the first one he tells, after all. She hadn’t judged him then, and she still doesn’t judge him now. In fact, she openly encourages him to explore the part of himself that he keeps hidden away because of the watchful eye of the Crown. 

“I- I don’t know. It’s just- It isn’t fitting for a prince, is it.” 

Even he can hear how defeated he sounds in his own ears. An echo of his grandmother’s biting tongue, tutting at his behavior like an ever-present devil. A prince like him would have never been allowed to wear, let alone have, a piece of jewelry so…feminine, so insinuating of a life he isn’t meant to lead, a life his own grandmother would never approve of. Heavy is the Crown he wears, and it is suffocating. 

He leaves the shop empty-handed and heavy-hearted. 

Days later, he finds a box addressed to him sitting on his bed. He lifts the lid and what rests inside it knocks the air right out of his chest. 

“I know it’s a few days late, but…do you like it?”

“Bea…you didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to. You’re my best friend, Hen. I like seeing you happy.” 

He looks down at the pearl necklace, delicate in his hands, and his gaze becomes blurry with tears. 

“Can you…can you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Hen.” 

They stand in front of the mirror as she helps him close the clasp around his neck, the pearls sitting perfectly, gently, against his collarbone, and the boy staring back at him looks inexplicably…happy. 

****

The constant appearances and camera-ready smiles have slowly begun to whittle him down to a shell of himself. The engagements have only seemed to ramp up since his father’s death marked the beginning of the Fox family’s detriment. The Crown has a reputation to uphold, and so under the orders from the Queen herself, Henry is carted off around the world, as the family’s sole representative, to make sure everyone sees how normal and happy the royal family is, when truly, they are anything but.

But it all becomes too much eventually, and he sneaks off needing a moment alone, a moment to be Henry Fox and not Prince Henry of England. To breathe and not have the heavy weight of the Crown looming over him.  

He buys the earrings on a whim. He tells the jeweler they are a gift for his mother as he watches her pack them into a small velvet box. She gushes to him about the pearls, telling him how they’re ethically farmed from their supplier in Japan. She explains how the cooler waters in which they’re farmed cause the pearls to grow more slowly, making them more compact and giving them more luster than the average pearl. 

He simply smiles and nods, half-listening. He glances over his shoulder and sees the lone PPO he wrangled onto this impromptu journey and his equerry still stationed at the door. 

He takes the bag, cream and discreet, and turns to leave immediately. 

“Finished, Your Royal Highness?” 

He wordlessly nods at Shaan and disappears out the door and into the black car waiting for him at the curb. When they arrive back at Kensington Palace, he goes to his room, feigning exhaustion as an excuse. Shaan fortunately leaves him be, letting him know that he does not have any more engagements for the rest of the day. 

Henry sits on the edge of the bed, pulls out the small felt box containing the earrings and sets it down. He then reaches into his bedside table and pulls out the box that holds the necklace Bea had gotten for him on his twenty-second birthday and places it down next to the earrings. 

He releases an unsteady breath and waits a beat, before getting up to check that the door is locked. He knows no one will bother him at this time of day—Shaan will make sure of it—but he still goes to check anyway. He takes both boxes to the dresser, the mirror sitting right above it. He takes the necklace out first and caresses the pearls with his fingertips. He doesn’t have Bea’s help this time, so it takes some moments of fumbling before he manages to clasp it around his neck. He runs his fingers along the smooth surface of the pearls once it’s secured, cool against his skin, and lets out another breath. 

Then, he opens the second, smaller box. The hinges are smooth as he lifts the lid and reveals the pearl earrings sitting prettily on a bed of felt. He lifts one to examine it. The silver hoop is cool between his fingertips, and a droplet of pearl hangs from it with a chain of delicate filigree. 

He takes extra care to put them on. The left ear goes on first, and then, the right. They slip right through the holes that have miraculously not closed up after years of not wearing any earrings. 

He stares at himself in the mirror for a long moment and watches as his eyes turn bright with tears. They spark with a newfound confidence that had laid dormant for years, beaten out of him by his grandmother’s incessant rules and expectations. But he sees now, as he stands there adorned in pearlescent jewelry, that she was not successful. 

This is Henry Fox. Not the Prince. Not the grandson of Queen Mary. And absolutely no one is allowed to take this away from him.

Continue on AO3

#firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #henry is a pretty pretty princess #my fic

[apoemaday]

The Hurting Kind

by Ada Limón

1.

On the plane I have a dream I’ve left half my torso on the back porch with my beloved. I have to go

back for it, but it’s too late, I’m flying and there’s only half of me.

Back in Texas, the flowers I’ve left on the counter have wilted and knocked over the glass— I stay alone there so the flowers are more than flowers.

At the funeral parlor with my mother, we are holding her father’s suit, and she says, He’ll swim in these.

For a moment, I’m not sure what she means, until I realize she means the clothes are too big.

I go with her like a shield in case they try to up-sell her— the ornate urn, the elaborate body box.

It is a nice bathroom in the funeral parlor, so I take the opportunity to change my tampon.

When I come out my mother says, Did you have to change your tampon?

And it seems a vulgar life all at once. Or not vulgar, but not simple.

I’m driving her now to the Hillside Cemetery where we meet with Rosie who is so nice we want her to work everywhere. Rosie as my dentist. Rosie as my president.

My shards are showing, I think. But I do not know what I mean so I fix my face in the rearview, a face with thousands of headstones behind it. Minuscule flags, plastic flowers.

You can’t sum it up, my mother says as we are driving and the electronic voice repeats, Turn Left onto Wildwood Canyon Road,

so I turn left, happy for the mundane instructions. Let us robot at once.

Tell me where to go. Tell me how to get there.

She means a life, of course. You cannot sum it up.

2.

A famous poet said he never wanted to hear another poem about a grandmother or a grandfather.

I imagine him with piles of faded yolk-colored paper, overloaded with loops of swooping cursive, anemic lyrics

misspelling mourning and morning. But also, before they arrive, there’s a desperate hand scribbling a memory, following

the cat of imagination into each room. What is lineage, if not a gold thread of pride and guilt. She did what?

Once, when I thought I had decided not to have children, a woman said, But who are you to kill your own bloodline?

I told my friend D that and she said, What if you want to kill your own bloodline, kill like it’s your job?

In the myth of La Llorona, she drowns her children to destroy her cheating husband. But maybe she was just tired.

After her husband of 76 years has died, my grandmother, (yes, I said it, grandmother, grandmother) leans to me and says,

Now teach me poetry.

3.

Sticky packs of photographs heteromaniacal postcards.

The war.      The war.        The war. Bikini girls, tight curls, the word gams.

Land boom. Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe. Southern Pacific.

We ask my Grandma Allamay about her mother for a form.

Records and wills. Evidence of life. For a moment she can’t remember her mother’s maiden name.

She says, Just tell them she never wanted me. That should be enough.

“Red sadness is the secret one,” writes Ruefle. Redlands

was named after the soil. Allamay can still hold a peach in her hand

and judge its number by its size. Tell you where it would go in the box

if you’re packing peaches for a living. Which she did,

though she hated the way the hairs hurt her hands.

4.

Why do we quickly dismiss our ancient ones? Before our phones stole the light of our faces, shiny and blue in the televised night,

our elders worked farms and butchered and trapped animals and swept houses and returned to each other after long hours and told stories.

In order for someone to be “good” do they have to have seen the full tilt world? Must they believe what we believe?

My grandmother keeps a picture of her president in the top drawer of her dresser, and once when she was delusional she dreamt

he had sent her and my grandfather on a trip to Italy.  He paid for it all, she kept repeating.

That same night on her ride to the hospital, she talks to the medical technician and says,

All my grandchildren are Mexican.

She says it proudly. She repeats it to me on the phone

5.

Once, a long time ago, we sat in the carport of my grandparents’ house in Redlands, now stolen for eminent  domain,

now the hospital parking lot, no more coyotes or caves where the coyotes would live. Or the grandfather clock

in the house my grandfather built. The porch above the orchard. All gone.

We sat in the carport and watched the longest snake I’d ever seen undulate between the hanging succulents.

They told me not to worry, that the snake had a name,

the snake was called a California King,

glossy black with yellow stripes like wonders wrapping around him.

My grandparents, my ancestors, told me never to kill a California King, benevolent

as they were, equanimous like earth or sky, not

toothy like the dog Chacho who barked at nearly every train whistle or roadrunner.

Before my grandfather died, I asked him what sort of horse he had growing up. He said,

Just a horse. My horse, with such a tenderness it rubbed the bones in the ribs all wrong.

I have always been too sensitive, a weeper from a long line of weepers.

I am the hurting kind. I keep searching for proof.

My grandfather carried that snake to the cactus, where all sharp things could stay safe.

6.

You can’t sum it up. A life.

I feel it moving through me, that snake, his horse Midge sturdy and nothing special,

traveling the canyons and the tumbleweeds hunting for rabbits before the war.

My grandmother picking peaches. Stealing the fruit from the orchards as she walked

home. No one said it was my job to remember.

I took no notes though I’ve stared too long. My grandfather, before he died, would have told

anyone that would listen, that he was ordinary,

that his life was a good one, simple, he could never understand why anyone would want to write

it down. He would tell you straight up he wasn’t brave. And my grandmother would tell you right now

that he is busy getting the house ready for her. Visiting now each night and even doing the vacuuming.

I imagine she’s right. It goes on and on, their story. They met in first grade in a one room school house,

I could have started there, but their story, their story is endless and ongoing. All of this

is a conjuring. I will not stop this reporting of attachments. There is evidence everywhere.

There’s a tree over his grave now, and soon her grave too

though she is tough and says, If I ever die,

which is marvelous and maybe why she’s still alive.

I see the tree above the grave and think, I’m wearing

my heart on my leaves. My heart on my leaves.

Love ends. But what if it doesn’t?

#poetry #ada limón #the hurting kind

[theduckeminence]

I’ve been curious lately about the idea of a rewrite for Pakku’s little character arc.

Yes, he is a traditionalist master waterbender and a massive smug jerk when refusing to teach Katara. He was a sexist up until he decided that upon learning Katara was Kanna granddaughter, he saw her as a student. Now from the way the show framed that moment, it seemed more or less nepotistic. There was also the fact that by the end of the series, it’s become canon that Pakku and Kanna ended up getting back together to which everyone called BS on for how quick that is. Now honestly I can’t ignore or deny any of this as the way the series framed Pakku’s development is dubious at best. We go from sexist nepotistic jerk to “meet your new grandpappy!” and that’s about it. Sure there was a bit of Pakku and Kanna in the North and South comic but due the the extremely questionable writing of the comics, I resolve from really including it very much

(I could mention how we never really saw Pakku’s development during the time of Gaang’s adventures and the time we had for the show but I’ll probably mention it another time).

I would also like to add some moments to give into him being more sympathetic such as a more softer or relatable side to him, while also giving more nuance to his character’s arc.

As such, I propose a couple ideas/headcanons of my own that may add to this sour old crusty bastard:

Wouldn’t it be interesting if he had gotten married to another girl following Kanna’s disappearence?And/or maybe that his family arranged him to marry another girl? Though if he were to take another hand, arranged or not, it wouldn’t be a very happy marriage. Therefore, he might have decided upon staying single for the rest of his life. The insight of how he must’ve dealt regarding this decision can depend how you would want to frame it. Whether he was content with the idea or, if you want to go for a more angstier route, depressed about it, that’s all up to you.

If we had gone with the more depressing option of him staying single, imagine how it must’ve been for him to be alone for most of his life—with no one to go home to and spending nights by himself eating meals alone. This may as well hit harder when realizing that since tribes are usually more communal and closely-knitted, Pakku living by himself puts him out of place. And though he could spend the evening having dinner with a friend’s family, or find content in the silence of his home, he cannot ignore the utter pitiful loneliness of not hearing any laughter nor the sound of children/grandchildren roaming the halls.

Speaking of children, Pakku has always wanted to have a child or more of his own. When he was still a young man, he dreamt of coming home to a caring wife and excited children where he can pick them up and toss them up, all while telling them stories about his day. But ever since Kanna left, that sort of dream had drained away into, well, just a dream.

Though, as he grows older, sometimes he would see the young boys and girls play in the snow, away from doing any of their chores or classes. While he would scold, there were some occasions where he slips from his hardened expression to entertain the children with a shower of snowflakes to little snow puppet-figure shows.

When he moves down South and spends more time down there, he becomes known as the local Grandpa-kku (much to his dismay to the pun).

#atla #avatar the last airbender #master pakku #pakku #order of the white lotus #the white lotus #water tribe #can yall tell this post was just an excuse for me to ramble about this old man? because UH 👀— #i also probably have more thoughts but ill probably add more when i remember em BCKXJXX #long post

[nanowrimo]

30 Covers, 30 Days 2023: Day 3

Day 3 is here and it feels like things are just heating up. Today's feature is Code 51 by Jill Chapman, a Young Adult novel full of mystery. This novel cover was designed by the amazing returning artist, Cookie Redding!

(For those of you who don’t know, 30C30D stands for 30 Covers, 30 Days in which 17 Wrimos and 5 YWP Participants get the chance to win a professionally designed cover! The rest of the days are being filled by community features. We’ll be posting a cover a day throughout November, so make sure to check them out!)

Code 51

Jacqueline Kolby wants to get through her senior year in high school to get on with better things. She doesn't want attention in or out of class from anyone. Jac, as her friends call her, ignores headlines and surely doesn't want to be one. However, when an arsonist seems to target her family, staying in the background isn't possible anymore. Jac's dad gets burned in a barn fire after several of their corn fields are razed. Now she's had enough. The police and fire marshal don't have any suspects. Her mom is busy caring for her dad while her grandpa mourns the recent loss of her grandma. Jac and her two friends set out to solve the mystery before anyone else gets injured. Who would want to hurt her family? Why now?

About the Author

Jill resides in Southern Indiana with her husband of forty-five years. They enjoy their country lifestyle and visiting with their children and grandchildren. Her life centers around her family and her yellow lab, Indy. She is an avid movie watcher and loves Mexican food and watercolor painting. 

She has published a middle-grade mystery series titled The Bomb Squad. Code 51 will be her first venture into young adult mystery/suspense books.

Jill’s interest in books began in childhood when reading provided a wonderful outlet for her wild imagination. She loves to tell stories about her life experiences with humor mixed in to convey the sense of adventure she feels daily. Jill says her life is like a good plate of nachos, a tiny kick of spice, and a whole lotta cheese.  

About the Designer

Cookie Redding is an artist, designer and lecturer with the School of Visual Arts at the Pennsylvania State University and teaches courses in the Digital Art and DMD Programs. Her work encompasses the art and design world, with a focus on multiple media forms of expression.

Redding's influences are from a diverse array of disciplines spawning from the classics and antiquities, to history and tech. Her explorations integrate these elements into a study of symbols. The imagery she deals with within her work is a study from the beauty of words and by being within nature. Her explorations show how the literary world meets the natural work with color and texture. Check her out on Instagram and Facebook!

Cover Design Process:

This year. we gave designers the optional prompt to explain their design process for the cover! Here's Cookie's:

My process typically starts with some sketching, brainstorming and listmaking. Then I start to hone my composition concept while also searching for imagery that would be ideal for the cover. I went through around 8 iterations and then my concept adjusted a bit to include the grid--that's when everything fell into place! Thanks so much for letting me be a part of 30 Covers 30 Days again--it's the highlight of my design year!

#nanowrimo #nano #30c30d #30 covers 30 days #design #young adult #cookie redding #jill chapman

[dollyyun]

𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 | chap 07

SYPNOSIS: wherein Hwang Stella's life is tangled in a predicament involving her clandestine identity as a racer, her seemingly daily life as the official heir to the Hwang Empire, and seven guys with whom she has a complex history with.

PAIRING: enhypen members x fem oc.

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), reverse harem, chaebols, semi-college & racing, eventual adulthood, non-idol au, eventual enha being f1 drivers, multiple pov (this fic is written in first pov).

WARNINGS: expletives, angst, heartbreaks, drama, heavy suggestive themes.

WORD COUNT: 7k+

TAGLIST: @aishigrey @kgneptun

🍒MASTERLIST🍒

After Sunghoon and I have rekindled our friendship, we decide to catch up on what we have missed in each other's lives. On campus, Sunghoon and I are seen hanging out and conversing with each other like we used to, which draws attention from some of the students since almost everyone here knows about our friendship's fallout.

Words do spread out fast here, which explains why Jungwon, Sunoo, and Ni-Ki come running to our old spot and are genuinely shocked when they see us in one room without strangling each other.

After our lecture ended, Sunghoon and I decided to hang out here. It is a lodging room that is twice as big as the lecture hall. In the centre of the room are three blue velvet couches that face the marbled coffee table, while there are also other activities we can do, such as arcade games, chess, and XBOX. This is only meant for the seven of us since Sunoo is the owner. His mother is on the board of directors, so that explains why we get special treatment.

"You guys look like fucking idiots." Sunghoon scoffs, but a grin appears on his lips right after. "Get in here."

"What the hell happened? And why are you two being civil?" Ni-Ki asks in disbelief as they head inside.

"We're more than civil now." Sunghoon slings an arm around my shoulder. "We're best friends again."

Jungwon offers us a big grin before running towards us. A grunt leaves my lips at the impact as soon as he engulfs us in a hug. "I'm genuinely glad that you two are back."

"Me too! This calls for a celebration!" Sunoo beams, taking out his phone from his pocket. He presses his phone against his ear before speaking to someone on the line. "I need you to buy some drinks and snacks."

We look at him with confusion while he appears to be delighted, even though we can hear a muffled shout from his phone. "I don't care. You're my servant, remember? I'll let you know where we're at."

"Who did you call?" Sunghoon asks, looking bewildered.

A sly grin arises on Sunoo's lips while mischievousness glints in his eye. "Just a certain someone. You'll see in awhile."

"Oh, boy," Ni-Ki heaves a deep sigh as he pinches the nose of his bridge. "This ought to be good."

I don't know what is going on, but warmth and relief spread throughout my chest from being surrounded by my best friends. But then comes the familiar pinch. I haven't sorted things out with Heeseung and Jake yet.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Sunghoon is still telling them what really happened while I am at the side, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. The sight itself amuses me as my lips upturn into a smirk. It looks like Sunghoon is a grandfather who tells the story to his three grandchildren instead.

"─and that's why we fought." Sunghoon finishes off. "I'd say that we're rather fools for being blinded to the fact that our fathers were the enemies, not us."

"Agreed." Ni-Ki nods his head before darting his eyes at me, the curiosity in his eyes glimmering. "So what happens now?"

I raise my eyebrow inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"You still have unfinished business with Jake," Ni-Ki points out knowingly. "And with Heeseung, the last time we remember was that the two of you fought because of Stella."

Right. But I'm no longer feeling the resentment I had towards Heeseung. It was my fault for starting the fight. It was rather foolish of me to worsen the cold and distance between Heeseung and me.

They look at me expectantly. Before I can open my mouth, the door swings open, startling us. When my eyes divert to her, they widen in surprise, while she doesn't seem to notice me yet.

"I came here as fast as I could." She appears to be panting, as though she ran all the way here. In her hands are brown paper bags. Her eyes, filled with pure annoyance, drill straight into Sunoo's as she trudges inside. "Kim Sunoo, you're lucky that I'm nice enough."

Sunoo pouts his lips. "You're never nice to me!"

"Wait a minute." Sunghoon rises from the couch, his eyes darting between Sunoo and Stella, before he stares at Sunoo in amusement. "Stella's your servant?"

"I am not his servant." Stella counters firmly before setting the paper bags on the table. For a minute, I notice hesitation in her gaze. "I just owe him something."

"Uhuh." Sunghoon seems skeptical. "What is that something?"

"Nothing that concerns you." She answers curtly.

"Thanks, Stel." Ni-Ki grabs one of the drinks, giving Stella a grin while the latter has a small smile on her lips.

"Yeah, thank you." Jungwon takes us by surprise when he embraces Stella in a side hug before planting a kiss on her crown.

Jungwon is the brother I wish I had, but why am I feeling uneasy and a growing bitterness in my heart upon seeing how close they are? Even worse is when Stella's cheeks turn a hint of pink while she accepts Jungwon's affection.

"Am I missing something?" Sunoo inquires with a frown as he walks towards them before slinging an arm around Stella. He eyes Jungwon. "Since when did you become close with my darling servant?"

"Kim Sunoo!" Stella struggles in Sunoo's grip.

I can see the dissatisfaction in Jungwon's eyes. "We're childhood best friends."

"Ex childhood best friends. Something happened." Stella shoves Sunoo away from her, though the impact doesn't affect Sunoo that much. She looks at the rest of us, her eyes seem to linger a little longer on mine. "But we've reconciled."

"My, my. It appears that Hwang Stella here has more connections to us than we thought." Sunghoon tuts.

"Just eat the damn snacks and drinks I bought for you." Stella sighs, rubbing her temple. "Now that my service here is done, I'll get going."

"Join us." I find myself finally speaking up after being an observer. When her eyes meet mine, I feel the familiar electricity between us. "Since you're here, you might as well hang out with us."

"I agree." Sunoo sips on his drink. "Besides, you haven't been here before, right?" He asks Stella.

Stella avoids our gazes, appearing sheepish for some reason, as if she has been caught for going against the rules. "Actually, I've been here more than once."

"What?" Ni-Ki looks at her incredulously. "Since when?"

"Of course." Sunghoon chuckles, though I detect an odd sense of bitterness. "With Jake Sim. Please don't tell me that y'all fucked here."

Her cheeks turn rosier, eliciting a loud groan from Sunghoon. "That's it! I'm going to have these couches washed and sanitised in every part of this room!"

"Hey! I'm the owner! So I get to decide!" Sunoo exclaims at a scowling Sunghoon.

"Let's just move on, please." Stella still avoids our eyes as she bends down to grab a drink. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I haven't gotten the chance to have a conversation with Stella due to how preoccupied she is with the others. She plays arcade games with Ni-Ki, chess with Sunoo, speaks with Jungwon, and even engages in banter with Sunghoon.

I can't help but turn sulky as I sit on a bean bag in the corner. I just want her to spare a glance at me, even for a second.

"Hey, Jay." My heart almost jumps out of my chest when she greets me, towering over my figure. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." I answer her quickly when I shouldn't even display my eagerness. She sits down on an extra bean bag next to mine without saying a word.

"So," She starts off, awkwardness filling the air around us. "How are you?"

"I've been fine. Things between Sunghoon and me have been going great too." I say. "It's just that I can't stop thinking about Heeseung and Jake." And you.

Stella nods her head, and there is sympathy in her pretty eyes. "Right. You, Heeseung, and Jake used to be close. But what exactly happened between you and Jake?"

I take a glance at her face. "Isn't it obvious? He's mad because I went after you."

"But why would he be mad?" She asks, looking incredulous. "He and I are no longer tied to each other."

I smirk faintly. "I guess you're just simply unforgettable, Stella. Heck, if I were in his shoes, I would be mad at me too."

Her eyes turn downcast. "Jake fell out of love for me, Jay."

"No." I don't hesitate to grab her hand and gently hold it in my grasp while she lifts her head to stare into my eyes. "You're wrong. He has never truly moved on from you."

"Don't, Jay." She shakes her head at me. "Don't tell me lies just to soothe my broken heart."

"I would never lie to you," Baby. "You should know the full truth."

"What truth?" She sighs sadly. "I already know what I wanted to know."

"Jay's right." Sunghoon appears next to Stella, while the latter jolts in surprise. "You need to know too, just as we did."

The others come to gather around us. Confusion resides in her gaze, but stubbornness does too. "I don't love him anymore, so it doesn't matter what you all say. Even if there was a reason, it doesn't justify the fact that he broke up with me over a text and got together with Rena weeks later."

"That's the thing, Stella." Ni-Ki bends down on one knee right in front of her, his eyes softening as he meets her glossy ones. "Jake was forced to date Rena."

At once, her eyes go wide as a socket. "What?"

"Jake was forced to date Rena by his mother."

"He had no choice because he had his reasons, but one thing is for sure, Jake is not in love with Rena."

The revelation has shaken me, despite my collected demeanour. I left after the guys unravelled the truth, at least based on their understanding and views. Now, I am driving mindlessly on the road, riding my blue Yamaha YZF-R1M, and my grip on the clutches tightens.

I don't know where I am headed, but I just keep driving on until I find myself at the ice cream parlour. Jake and I went after having dinner at a restaurant for our first anniversary. Maybe eating ice cream would alleviate the tension in my head a little better.

I turn off the indignation before removing my helmet. I adjust my dishevelled hair and get off the bike, which I parked by the curb. My gaze settles on the parlour, the ornamental window glass allows me to see the inside.

Considering it's past eight, there are fewer and fewer customers, with some already leaving. But what I don't expect is to see my ex seated by the window alone.

A part of me wants to leave, but I know that I shouldn't run away. I can't deny the fact that I need to listen to his side story. I need to hear the truth from him.

And so, I find myself stepping inside the parlour. As the ring chimes. Jaeyun snaps his head up and meets my eyes. My heart races in anticipation, yet I am uncertain of the outcome. I scan his countenance briefly, and I feel a tug in my heart upon noticing how he looks as though he has lost all hope.

Mustering the courage, I walk towards him. "We need to talk." I tell him firmly, despite how my voice almost wavers.

"No, we don't." He mutters, looking away from me, before rising from the seat.

"Oh, yes, we do." My hand grabs his just as he walks past me. "If I'm done running from my problems, so should you."

Jake doesn't turn around to look at me, but he doesn't feel bothered by me grabbing his hand either. We stay in that position briefly before he finally looks back at me. I feel him squeezing my hand and holding it firmly. "Not here."

In an instant, he drags me with him until we are out of the parlour. I expect him to let go of my hand, but he continues to hold it.

"Sunghoon and the others told me what happened." I break the ice between us as we stand on the pavement. I swallow the familiar lump in my throat while the backs of my eyes start to sting. "But I need to hear the truth from you. Were they right?"

Jake doesn't meet my eyes, but he doesn't let go of my hand either. "Yes."

My vision starts to blur as I blink while my chest hurts. "You should've told me the truth instead of breaking up with me. I thought we trusted each other."

"That's the thing, I couldn't even if I wanted to." He looks at me, and his jaw tightens. "My hands and mouth were tied. You have no idea how fucked it is to have been controlled by those with power."

"You think I don't?" I chuckle in disbelief. "I've spent months trying to hate you, but my heart couldn't let you go. You were my first in everything, Jaeyun. Did you really think that I could move on from you just so easily?"

"No, I don't." He sighs. "You were my first in everything too."

I ignore the tear that is rolling down my cheek. "I hate you for breaking my heart."

"I know." A sad smile appears on his handsome face.

"Most of all, I hate that I still love you." A soft sob leaves my lips before I can stop it. With my other hand, I form it into a fist before punching him weakly in the chest. "I hate you, Sim Jaeyun."

Before I can punch him again, he grabs my fist, firmly yet gently, as he opens it back. The sad smile still persists on his lips. "That's my girl." He plants a soft kiss on my palm. "Hate me all you want. It's easier that way."

More sobs leave my lips while the tears are relentless. "Please tell me that you still love me."

"I do, I still do, love. But we can never be together for as long as I'm tied to Rena." He cradles my face in between his palms. "Not unless I'm done settling my business."

"Jaeyun." My knees feel weak at the moment he embraces me into his arms, which once felt like home.

"I love you, Stella." He confesses with such raw emotions that it has me in shambles as I desperately cling onto him. I feel him planting a kiss on my crown. "You'll always be my girl."

Just like that, the warmth of Sim Jaeyun disappears as he leaves me in the cold under a starless sky.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

My mind is unstable after what happened, yet I find myself standing outside his apartment. Instead of looking for others, I look for him. Follow your heart, as they say. But my heart doesn't know what it fucking wants.

"Stella." He greets me, looking genuinely surprised, after opening the door. His eyes seem to scan my face before a frown dawns on his pink lips. "What happened?"

"Nothing." I say nonchalantly. "I'm sorry for coming here at this hour. Were you asleep?"

"It's fine. Like I said, you're always welcomed here." He steps aside, allowing me to enter. "I haven't seen you in awhile."

"You know, busy with assignments and projects." I answer curtly, and being near him makes me realise that we haven't talked after the heated kiss we had. I sigh before turning around to look at him. "Heeseung, about that kiss─"

"Don't worry about it. It was a mistake." Heeseung gives me a tight smile. "We were in a heat of moment."

I don't know why I feel disappointed upon hearing his statement. "Right."

"What's wrong?" He asks with a frown, stepping closer to me.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that you declared our kiss a mistake, but you kissed me like you meant it." Sarcasm drips into my tone.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. "What would you want me to say? You even insisted that we're friends, and friends don't kiss the way we did."

"I don't know! But hearing you say our kiss was a mistake─" Frustration blinds my judgement. "You know what? Coming here was my mistake."

"Wait." Heeseung grabs my hand just as I turn my back on him. "Don't go."

"Why not?" I ask coldly.

"Because I've missed you." He tugs me towards him, prompting me to look at him in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it."

My breath hitches in my throat as he tucks a fallen lock of hair behind my ear, while there is a familiar desire in his alluring eyes. "Truth be told, I couldn't stop thinking about you and our kiss." He confesses. "At that time, I was holding myself back."

"Then don't." My voice drops to a whisper as he slowly leans in. "Don't hold yourself back around me."

"I must." His breath fans above my lips. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, sweetheart. My mind is intoxicated by the thought of you, your lips, and your body."

"Hee." Our lips brush lightly against each other. "Kiss me."

He presses his lips on mine in an instant, a symphony of desire and longing. He kisses me slowly, as though he is taking time to savour the feeling. My hands slither upward to tug on his hair, while his hands go lower until they stop around my thighs.

"Jump." He rasps against my lips, and I comply, locking my legs around his waist.

I don't know where he's taking me as I get utterly lost in the kiss. When he gently lowers me until my back hits the mattress, I realise that we're in his room.

As we pull away from the kiss, I pant heavily and look at him with my half-hooded eyelids. His eyes seem to be darkening each second with desire and danger. My hand tugs at the hems of his black shirt.

"I need to be one of your girls." The desperation in my voice is apparent, but I am too far gone to care. "Just for tonight."

"No, not just one of my girls." He presses his lips on my neck while his hands go underneath my top. Chills run down my spine upon feeling the warmth of his hands. "My only girl."

"Liar." I roll my eyes to the back in pleasure as his lips press on the sensitive part of my neck. "Heeseung─" He continues to pepper kisses on my skin before going down on me, pulling up my top, which I remove and toss aside.

My cheeks are flushed as he stares at me with such hunger. Butterflies erupt in my tummy as he presses a gentle kiss on top of my belly button. "You're so fucking gorgeous, sweetheart."

"Hee, enough foreplay." I whine. clenching my thighs together to suppress the heat.

"This will be my first, you know?" He pauses to remove his shirt, and my mouth begins to water at his fine glory. "But I've learned some moves on the internet."

I feel genuinely surprised by the fact that he will be losing his virginity to me. "Like?" Intoxication fills my head as I pull him down to connect our lips again.

"How about I show you instead?" He rasps against my lips, his deep yet husky voice turns me on further. "But first, gentle or rough?"

"I don't care." A moan leaves my lips upon feeling his knee pressing into my heat. "I just need you to take my pain away."

"So I was right." He murmurs. "Something did happen to you."

A soft gasp emits from me as soon as I feel his hand wrap around my neck—enough not to suffocate me but enough to show his dominance. Instead of feeling afraid, I feel even more turned on. He gazes deeply into my eyes while his lips unfurl a soft smirk. "You have no idea what you've just let in, sweetheart."

I've been awake since Aera called me earlier, and I can't even fall back asleep, not when there is a gorgeous goddess next to me. She is still sound asleep as she faces me, giving me a view of her angelic face.

Right now, Stella doesn't look anything like what others describe her as─ cold, heartless, or arrogant. In this state, she looks harmless. I mean, I'm not saying that she's capable of harming anyone, but she looks utterly serene. Her long lashes kiss under her eyes, her sculpted nose that tempts me to plant a kiss on, her naturally tinted pink lips that are kissable, and her rosy cheeks. She looks like a goddess. My Goddess.

A flashback of last night replays in my mind. It was fucking unreal that my virginity had been taken by my crush. The whole experience was more than amazing. With her consent, she allowed me to do anything I wanted, but I held myself back, though not entirely. She was so exquisite that I wasn't getting enough of her.

I have to admit that I was nervous at first, but with Stella, I felt as though I was a natural at it. She even complimented me before falling asleep. Envy slowly wraps itself around my heart at the thought that Jay and Jake have already tasted her.

I glance down at her once more, and my heart rate starts to spike. My crush is wearing my white shirt, which looks big and adorable on her figure. Her body is curved as she holds the duvet close to her chest.

My hand reaches out to caress her cheek, but stops mid-air when I recall how vacant her eyes looked yet filled with hurt as soon as I opened the door for her. A part of me knows better than to pry, but I need to know what happened and who hurt her.

Stella's movement as she stirs in her sleep, and I continue to watch her until her eyes flutter open. Still looking drowsy, her eyes slowly find their way to meet mine. Thus, my heart beats faster and pounds harder.

"Hey." She greets me softly. Fuck, does she know what she did to me?

My lips curve into a grin while I gaze into her beautiful eyes. "Good afternoon, sweetheart."

Stella stretches her limbs out like a cat. "It's noon already?"

"I mean, we did finish way too late." I drawl lazily, smirking as I see how diffident she looks and avoids my gaze. "Last night was amazing."

"Yeah," She clears her throat before attempting to sit up, but winces lightly as she moves her legs. "Thanks for last night. I needed that."

"Hey, Stella?" I call out to her just before I can stop myself.

"Yeah?" She asks, grabbing her hair tie on the nightstand before tying her hair up into a messy bun.

What are we? "What exactly happened before you came over?"

Thank God I didn't say that out loud, or I'll just worsen the progress of our friendship status. Yeah, we're just friends. We can never be anything more. Not when I have an ulterior motive that my parents deem important, or else I'll face the consequences.

Stella heaves a deep sigh before turning around to meet my eyes. "I met Jake."

I ignore the stinging pain in my heart. Of course. I should've recognised the familiar pain in her eyes.

"Sunghoon and the others revealed the entire truth to me, but I needed to hear from Jake himself." She bites her lower lip, eyes downcast. "When I heard it from him, I felt furious, sad, and betrayed. Most of all, I felt regretful. I've spent months trying to hate him for hurting me and leaving me broken."

"Don't let the truth invalidate what you've felt and suffered." I move closer to her, and before I can stop myself, my hand goes to cradle the side of her face. "Allow yourself to acknowledge what you truly felt. He had reasons, yes, but at the end of the day, he still broke your heart."

As Stella leans into my touch, I feel my heart soar. "Thank you for the assurance, Heeseung."

"Of course." I smile, though my heart starts to ache. "We're friends, aren't we?"

I don't miss the disappointment that befalls her angelic face, but I brush it off. I'm probably seeing things.

"Heeseung─"

"Guess who's here!" Aera's shrill voice startles us, as does when she swings the door open. "Heeseung─ Ah! What the hell?!"

"Aera!" I groan in annoyance, my palm no longer feeling the softness of Stella's cheek, while Stella appears embarrassed as she looks down. "How many times do I have to tell you to knock?"

"Brother!" Aera's eyes dart between us, but amidst the shock, I can see how her lips twitch into a grin. "Did you two?!"

"Aera." Stella buries her face into her palms.

"Am I going to have nieces and nephews?!" Aera exclaims rather avidly with a stupid grin on her face.

"Lee Aera, get out!" I grab a pillow before aiming at where she is, but she immediately disappears as soon as I throw the pillow, causing it to hit the door instead.

"I'm sorry about that." I rub my face. "I had no idea she'd be coming here."

"It's fine." Stella's rosy cheeks tempt me to kiss them. "By the way, your sister knows about me being a racer too."

I raise my eyebrow inquisitively. "Since when?"

"It's complicated." She gives me a sheepish smile. "But she promised to keep it a secret as well."

"Did she ask you to give her a ride in one of your motorsport vehicles?" Knowing my sister, she probably did.

"Yup." Stella answers with a chuckle, while my heart flutters upon hearing that chuckle of hers.

The damn butterflies.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"So what are you doing here, exactly?" I ask, staring at my sister with annoyance as she sprawls across the couch.

Though I'm glad that my sister is no longer cold to me, I can't help but feel annoyed by her coming here unannounced, especially when I still want to spend some alone time with Stella before she returns home.

Aera, unmoving from her position, gives me a pout, to which I give her a look of disgust. "Can't I visit my favourite brother?"

"I'm your only brother, idiot." I state flatly. "So what do you want? Money? A car? Oh, wait, you don't have a driving licence."

Aera shoots me a scowl. "First of all, how could you assume that I came here for money?" She pauses for awhile before a sheepish smile appears on her lips. "Actually, I do need some money."

I heave a sigh. "Did Father freeze your card? Again?"

"That mean old man." Aera rolls her eyes. "Yup. Hence, I went to look for you! Please, Oppa? Help out your baby sis."

"Fine." I grab my wallet on the table before taking one of the credit cards and giving it to her. "Just don't spend on unnecessary stuff."

Thankfully, money always rolls into my accounts due to my investments and the competition I've won in racing, despite the fact that my father does send me money every now and then.

"So..." Aera draws my attention as she raises her eyebrow suggestively. "You and Stella?"

I scoff. "We're just friends."

"Bullshit. You're literally head over heels for her." Aera points out. "She's the girl whom you saw at the library years ago, right?"

"Whatever you say, Aera." I merely brush her off, but as soon as I turn my head to the side, I spot Stella coming out of my room, dressed in her previous attire.

"Stel!" Aera greets her cheerily. "We were just talking about you!"

"Really?" Stella looks at us curiously.

"Yes!" Aera says delightfully. "Do you know that Heeseung had a crush on─"

I quickly grab a cushion pillow before throwing it directly at her face, successfully hitting her. "Get out."

"Hey! You can't kick out your sister!"

My phone starts to ring on the table, drawing our attention to it. I walk towards the table and grab it before seeing the caller ID. My eyebrows jump in surprise, but I answer his call anyway.

"Heeseung." He greets me. "Before you hang up on me, we need to talk. It's been long overdue. Meet me at the arena."

The resentment I had for Jay has long since faded after the incident. I tried putting myself in his shoes and understood why he felt that way. But that didn't mean my pride hurt any less, given how he got a good piece of me.

"Who was it?" Stella asks softly, walking towards me.

"Jay," I breathe out. "He said to meet him at the arena."

"Oh! Can I come? Stella can give me a ride!" Aera asks me, staring at me with hope.

"I don't think it's a good idea." Stella states. "It's bad enough that half of them already know who I am. I don't want Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon to know too."

"She has a point." I tell Aera. "Till next time, sis."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Instead of pulling up at my usual station, I stop right next to Jay's motorcycle, where he is also waiting for me as he remains seated on his bike. I turn off the ignition before removing my helmet. I ruffle my tousled dark locks and briefly scan the arena. There are some other racers practicing on track, while I also spot Ni-Ki, Sunoo, and Sunghoon from afar.

Sunghoon catches my eye and gives me a nod of acknowledgment before proceeding to converse with the rest. I'll probably ask him to practice with me on track after this.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" I ask Jay curtly as I face him while still remaining seated on my bike.

Jay heaves a sigh. He appears somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry for what happened at Hoon's party. I shouldn't have lashed out to you."

"You were furious because I was with Stella." I point out. "But I'm sorry as well for punching you first."

"I deserved that." Jay chuckles breathily, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know why the hell I was so enraged when Stella wasn't mine to begin with."

"The answer is obvious, Park." I smirk at him, though I feel uneasy. "You like Stella."

"Damn right, I do." Jay doesn't hesitate to answer. "It took me awhile to acknowledge and admit my feelings towards her."

I bite my lip. I feel kind of bad for him because the girl he likes just spent the night with me.

"Unlucky for you, I like Stella as well." I give him a playful punch on the shoulder. "Fight me again?"

"No." Jay rolls his eyes. "I'm tired of fighting. So that's why I'm here. I want to reconcile with you. I've missed our bond."

I've known Jay since high school, but we only got close when we entered university. Whenever he had problems or needed advice, he would always come to me. Plus, we have the same set of shitty parents, so we could always relate to each other.

"But we like the same girl." I state, eyeing him cautiously. "What if a fight happens between us again because of her?"

"I can assure you that we won't have to fight for her." Jay answers firmly while his eyes reflect a familiar sentiment I know too well. "Besides, we can never compete, not when there's Jake, who is her first love."

"A punch to the gut, Jay." I roll my eyes jokingly. "Speaking of Jake, he's been avoiding the rest as well. Though he's an ass, I've missed him."

"I don't know how long he's going to keep that up." Jay sighs. "But one thing is for sure: We need him back in the group."

"I like the idea of that." I smile. "It's about time the gang got back together again."

Jay mirrors my smile before it transitions into a smirk. "So, wanna race?"

"Music to my ears." A smirk tugs at my lips before I wear my helmet. "The loser has to do fifty push-ups."

"Get ready to lose, Heeseung." Jay wears his helmet before starting the ignition at the same time as I do. With both my hands on the clutches, I take a glance at him to see him looking at me. Then, we speed off.

The view of the familiar manor greets me as the gate opens before I start to make my way to the garage, driving my white Suzuki bike. Behind this visor, a smirk tugs at my lips. Home, sweet home.

My parents have alerted me about the dinner with the Nishimuras tonight. Growing up, my parents showered me with love and affection to the point where I became a spoiled brat, wanting everything and getting everything my way, while my younger brother and sister were forsaken by my parents.

I know that tonight's dinner is unlike any other familial dinner. It'll be where I need to report to them about what is happening and the progress of our plan. Well, I guess it can be considered my plan since I voluntarily agreed to take part in the first place.

"Finally. I've been waiting for you to arrive." Ni-Ki announces just as I pull up next to his vehicle.

"You should've come with me instead." I roll my eyes as I remove my helmet. "Besides, your parents are inside, so why are you out here?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. "You know well enough that I don't get along with them, at least not anymore."

I know the reason, and I can't help but disprove it. My parents were right. Love is a weakness and will inevitably cause the downfall of any member of this high society of ours.

"Let's go." I pat Ni-Ki's back before we proceed to enter the building. As we enter, I am surprised to see the sight of my siblings, who are fraternal twins, Kim Daehyun and Kim Sihyeon. They are currently in their last years of high school. I don't have a great bond with them, but I don't hate them either.

"What are you doing here?" I ask with a frown as we stop in front of them. Given the fact that my parents have forsaken them, they voluntarily chose to leave the manor and live with my aunt instead.

"Nice meeting you too, Hyung." Daehyun rolls his eyes. Brat.

"Mother and father wanted us to come." Sihyeon says, though her eyes seem to be lingering on Ni-Ki instead. "For dinner."

"My children! You've arrived." My mother announces, drawing our attention to the older adults. "Come! Let's have dinner!"

My mother is elegant as ever. Though everyone perceives her as kind, I know how manipulative and cunning she is beneath her facade, but no one can ever suspect her schemes due to her elegancy. My father, on the other hand, is renowned for being ruthless and merciless when it comes to business. Both complement each other well.

"Ni-Ki." Ni-Ki's father greets him, but the guy ignores his parents and walks right past them.

"Oppa, who is your friend?" Sihyeon whispers to me as we walk. "He's handsome."

"Don't even think about it." I warn her. "Plus, he already has his eyes on someone."

And that someone just so happens to be a pawn.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Daehyun, Sihyeon." My mother dabs the corner of her mouth with a white handkerchief. "Since you two have finished your meals, can you give the adults some privacy?"

Throughout the whole dinner, Ni-Ki remains unresponsive, keeping to himself, whereas I have had to step in to entertain his parents. Our parents do talk about businesses in front of us, but it has nothing to do with us. Meanwhile, my siblings keep themselves occupied by conversing with each other and playing games discreetly, though my mother often glares at them for not having proper dining etiquette.

My patience is starting to run thin. This has got to be a mundane dinner.

"Why can't we listen?" Daehyun asks ardently, to which I smirk as I take sips of my drinks. He really takes after me.

"Because the next session is not about any of your concerns." My father answers him coldly, and his piercing gaze causes my sister to flinch. "Leave."

"Come on, Dae." Sihyeon says nervously as she tugs at his sleeves. "Let's just leave."

"Whatever. This dinner sucks anyway." Daehyun scoffs, standing as his chair makes a loud screech. Sihyeon looks at me before going after Daehyun.

"I apologise for my son's improper behaviour." My mother informs the Nishimuras. "He's not usually like that."

I hold back a smirk. Oh, mother, you don't know Daehyun at all. None of us do.

"It's fine. Teenagers these days." Ni-Ki's father chuckles lightheartedly. "So, shall we start?"

"Of course." My mother smiles before turning to me. "Report."

"Things are going rather smoothly." I start off, and from my peripheral vision, I notice Ni-Ki clenching a fist. "Day by day, she's getting closer to us and seems rather distracted. In fact, I don't think she's been doing her duties as the heir, considering how occupied she is with us."

"Ni-Ki?" Ni-Ki's mother looks at him. "What's your report?"

"Just as Sunoo said," Ni-Ki's tone sounds deadly, as does the aura he emits. "Everything is going smoothly."

"Ni-Ki, we really need you to be on board with this." Ni-Ki's father sighs. "You must not allow your feelings for that girl to hinder your goal."

"My goal?" Ni-Ki's laughter sounds sharp, enough to make me flinch lightly. "You mean it's your goal."

I decide to intervene before this could escalate further. "I have information that we may use if this plan fails."

"Oh?" Intrigued, my father leans forward. "What is it, son?"

"Sunoo, don't." Ni-Ki shakes his head, a warning glint in his eye.

But I ignore him. "Stella is a racer as well. She has been keeping her identity a secret, and she trusts us enough to let us know." A half-lie, but whatever.

"This is great!" My mother seems gleeful. "We have to inform the others about this plan B."

"Wait, what do you mean by others?" Ni-Ki asks sternly.

"Ask your friends, dear." My mother informs. "Despite all of our differences, the goal is to bring downfall to the Hwang empire. Starting with their precious heir."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Come on, Ni-Ki." Annoyance is turning into frustration as I go after Ni-Ki. "They would never allow us to leave for as long as we provided them with a better solution."

Ni-Ki stops abruptly before turning around to glare at me. "So telling them that Stella's a racer was a better solution? She trusted us enough that we would keep her identity a secret! We even gave our word to her!"

Guilt tugs at my cold heart, but my demeanour remains collected. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

I scoff. "After years of not talking, you suddenly decided to approach her out of the blue. Why? Because you were following your parents' orders."

Ni-Ki clenches his jaw. "There's a difference between you and me. I'm sincere in being her friend, always been, while you're being a snobby jerk for having her as your servant."

"It's not meant to be serious! That's just a way for me to get closer to her!" I throw my hands up in frustration. "Damn it, Riks! Why do you have to be so difficult?!"

"Because I love her!" He confesses, the pain is evident in his eyes. "You would never understand, Sunoo. The pain of betraying my first love."

My eyes turn steely cold. "And I'm glad I would never understand it. Love is a fucking weakness, and it'll get you nowhere. Besides, you should give up." A smirk appears on my lips. "Hwang Stella will never love you."

"I pity you. You don't understand how great love is, even if it means that the person you love won't ever notice you."

"Love is a waste of time, Riks." I walk past him, making my way to the garage. "Besides, do you really want to risk racing over Stella?"

It's a rhetorical question. I already know his answer, and it's similar to the rest of us, including me.

My phone chimes in my pocket, prompting me to read the message. I raise my eyebrow while a smirk returns to my lips.

STELLA: The others are too busy to race. Wanna join me?

I guess it isn't so hard to get closer to her after all.

PREV CHAP | NEXT CHAP

#enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen poly #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #sunoo #jungwon #ni-ki

[theimperiumchronicles]

Happy STS! (Shh, I'm a day behind.) And because of that, today's a free space! Use it to ramble as you please! ♥️

I am a week and a day behind, but I'm still going to ramble...and tell you about yet another new WIP that is coming up.

Mysts Of Time

Lemures in Roman mythology are spirits who were not given proper burials and are pissed off/vengeful.

In my story, if someone dies in such a way that their body cannot be found, Pluto (Roman God of Death = Greek Hades) offers them the chance to become a Lemure Agent. Lemure Agents can see wandering souls whose bodies have not been found and can help find them, and help the police find who killed them if they were murdered. There is always a Lemure Agent in big city police dept in the Homicide Unit.

Set in St. Louis, MO, Renata died in 1897 when she fell into the Mississippi River after a party at Lemp Mansion celebrating a wedding. Offered the deal of becoming a Lemure Agent by Pluto, she was trained by Dante and Traverius over the coming years. She and Dante are VERY close, and there are hints that something could be developing between them in the present. It took a full century for her to get over her husband and children. She couldn't let them go and watched from a distance and in the shadows as they aged and died, even doing so to her grandchildren before finally letting go completely.

Enzo is the boss of all of the Lemure Agents and believed to have been the original one, although no one is sure or brave enough to ask. For some reason, he has never met Renata, something that is unusual. He normally is the one to do their training and offering of the deal. No one knows why Renata was different. Now he has been sent to St. Louis to help with a child that they are having problems finding the body, and no one wants the poor kid to become a shade (what happens if the body is not found and they can't/won't become a Lemure) . When he first meets Renata, he is stunned because she is the exact doppelganger in all ways to his wife who died in the Great Fire of Rome. BOOM!

Why that is...well...Pluto has a HUGE hand in that...and it becomes complicated as the story goes on.

So now, Renata and Dante, who also happens to be Enzo's best friend, may have something developing while Enzo is facing the mirror image of the only woman to ever have his heart. Traverius is observing from outside the situation, and sees the disaster that everyone is heading for and wonders if there is more at play than just Plato's meddling with time and heartstrings.

@blind-the-winds @saltysupercomputer @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @dreaminggoblin @thebejeweledwatercat

@outpost51 @ceph-the-ghost-writer @aziz-reads

#sneak peek #new wip #ask answered #answered ask #teaser #coming soon to a wip near you #coming soon #writeblr #my writing #my ocs #writers on tumblr