#SIR??!? HELLO??!? HOW DARE!?! MY HEART??!?

[nattikay]

Neytiri: You must choose your own ikran, and he must choose you.

Jake: How do I know if he chooses me?

Neytiri: He will try to kill you.

followed by…

Jake: I’ve already chosen. But this woman must also choose me.

Neytiri: She already has :)

followed by…

Neytiri: When I first met your father, I was trying to kill him.

Jake: Love at first sight! ^u^

…

…EX-FLIPPIN-SCUSE ME???!?1!???!!!

[illiana-mystery]

Oh Bobby, you precious baby boy.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。NUMBER — SHIDOU RYUSEI.

✩ — contents ⋮ barista! reader, fluff, very annoying yet very sweet boyfriend shidou agenda <3 he’s so romantic in the most vein popping way <3

shidou loves to bother you at work, it must be his favorite pastime, you think—except now it’s starting to get everyone else at work invested too.

“oh. my. gosh,” you coworker whispers, swatting your arm excitedly, “there’s a guy asking for you—says you made his drink last time.”

“i make a lot of guys drinks,” you shrug.

“yeah but not for guys this cute,” she huffs, “i’m jealous. this is your chance, so don’t ruin it! maybe he’s good in bed too,” she wriggles her brows at you, making you scowl as you roll your eyes.

and then you see it—that mop of blonde hair with those pink ends, and you sigh in exasperation as you walk up to the register.

of course, it’s him.

“hello sir, what can i get for you?” you say monotonously.

“hmm,” shidou grins, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply in thought, “i was just thinking i’d get a drink from a pretty little barista. maybe even a number.”

from the distance, you can see your coworkers stop whatever they’re doing to stare—it’s not like it’s every day that someone this attractive comes in to flirt with a fellow employee. you can just about make out the jealousy in some of their faces and amusement in the others. one thing they all have in common, however, is awe—which you’re not too shocked at, shidou’s admittedly a handsome guy….if you look past how obnoxious he can be, that is.

“what drink would you like?”

“any is fine with me as long as i can get your number as an add on,” he grins, and it’s a wicked grin, really. it’s wide and smug and almost makes him look psychotic. you purse your lips as you shake your head, and distantly, you can hear your earlier coworker groan at your lack of enthusiasm for what you’re sure she’ll later go on to describe as the luckiest experience you’ll ever get.

“that’s not an option we carry here,” you squint, “you must be getting our menu confused for another coffee shop. maybe you should look somewhere else.”

“i don’t know,” he smirks, “i don’t think i’d confuse a pretty face like yours so easily.”

if anyone were to tell you, they’d say shidou ryusei is insufferable. you come to learn this is very true with every possible encounter you have with him, including this one. but there’s something a bit endearing about him, something that’s…dare you say, adorable, despite the way his words are sometimes crass and far from proper. and if the way he’s so persistent for your attention is of any proof, you’d say he’s a pretty determined guy—but you like to see how long you can keep him on his toes.

“i’m sure you say that to all the pretty faces you come across,” you say sarcastically, eyeing him as his smile widens and his eyes glint with amusement.

“nope,” he pops the p as he speaks, “you’re the only one. why, you jealous?”

“you wish,” you snort. “and i can’t give you my number, actually,” you say—and this time, it’s you with a smug grin, catching the eyes of your coworkers as they tilt their heads in confusion, “i have a boyfriend. so i’m afraid it’s simply not possible.”

“oh?” shidou drawls with a raise of his brow, “i bet he’s a loser. bet i could take him in a fight easily. if i win against him, you gotta let me move in with you—how ‘bout that?”

“he is a bit of a loser,” you grin, and anyone could make out the fondness seeping into your voice as your eyes soften at the idea of whoever’s got your heart. “but he’s my loser, so i’m afraid the answers still no.”

“sounds like you love him,” he presses, eyeing you expectantly.

“i don’t know about that one,” you giggle, “he’s still got to prove himself a bit more.”

“that’s harsh,” he hums, “maybe if you gave me your number, i’d prove to be better.”

“sorry, no can do—”

“just give him your number, already!” your coworker cuts you off and huffs, stomping her way over to where you stand. shidou’s got a cheshire grin on his face, eyeing her with that same look of amusement that makes you pinch your nose as you sigh. “you and i both know good and well you don’t have a boyfriend so do yourself a favor and just—”

“and how can you be so sure there’s no boyfriend?” shidou raises his brow.

you try, you really do—but you can’t help but finally crack. it’s a small giggle at first, and then it’s a fit of laughter that makes his eyes soften and his lips quirk into a lopsided beam that’s nothing short of lovesick.

“if you do seem to think there’s a boyfriend in the equation, why pursue someone then?” you coworker raises a brow, arms crossed as she challenges him, “that makes you a jackass, don’t you think?”

“easy,” shidou cackles, leaning in and pressing one, two, three soft pecks to your lips, making everyone gasp as you roll your eyes affectionately, “i’m the boyfriend. sometimes i like to keep the romance alive and fight myself every once in a while.”

“wha—” she’s left speechless, staring at him as she tries to comprehend what he’s just said with her mouth hung. shidou only mocks her opened mouth, and you reach over and swat his shoulder, making him snicker.

“that’s enough, ryu,” you warn—though you don’t sound all that serious. “i’ll be off in ten. are you gonna order anything or just stand there?”

“aw, c’mon baby. ‘course i am,” he pulls out his card, handing it to you, “i’ll take your favorite. you keep it though,” he winks.

“god you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but still, you don’t pull away when he leans for another peck on the lips, even as your coworkers chant a chorus of get a room from the back.

“see you in ten, baby,” he calls over his shoulder, walking off to find himself a seat as he waits for you.

yeah, you think, your coworkers are really going to be invested in this one.

he’s like…so very sweet and in love but in a very annoying and odd way. like he’d vandalize a building to spray paint your initials together in a heart or something

[pinejayy]

hi . i have a request

what if muzan wife had been reborn and he saw her by accident how would he reacts? . sorry for any mistakes English isn't my first language

sure thing!! I hope you enjoy this uwu

trigger warnings: mentions of death, a bit of yandere

here's part 2

I'll make you remember me (Muzan Kibustsuji x F!Reader)

It's been years since Muzan has lost you and it has broken him, he had lost you his wife. The Demon King truly missed you, he misses your smile and he misses how kind you were towards him. But everything was taking away from him after you were killed by some humans. They found out about your relationship with the Demon and since you were human it was just against their laws that a human and a demon could love each other. But he made sure to kill those humans who took you away.

But that was about 30 years ago, and Muzan has pushed those feelings down deep inside of him.

Tonight was a peaceful night, he was walking around the small village, as people were walking past him he couldn't help but growl to himself, he hated humans. He hated how they took you away from him. But the Demon needed a break from his work and the Upper Moons, they all get on his nerves. He just sighed to himself, as he was walking hearing the humans walk around and speak to each other but a voice caught his attention, it sounded like your voice. No that can't be right? You were long gone and 6 feet under.

"Fresh Noodles right here! Come buy them as their fresh!"

Yes that sounded like your voice, he decided to follow the voice, as he walked he seemed to be getting nervous. As he walked towards the voice he saw you? Standing by a small Noodle shop. You were smiling and waving at people walking by. Was it really you, Muzan walked towards you. Was this reincarnation? Did the universe send you back to him?

"Hello sir, would you like to buy some noodles." You say with a smile.

Muzan couldn't help but smile as he heard your voice and he just nodded. To which you just nodded, both of you walked into the shop. He looked around there was a few people. He sat down by a table that was away from everyone else.

"What can I get you today sir?"

He looked at you, it seemed like you don't remember him. "Y/N you don't remember me? It's me Muzan your husband." To which you looked at him confused.

"Oh I'm sorry sir, it seems like you have the wrong person." You say. "But would you like to hear about the specials today?"

Muzan looked at you, so you really don't remember him? He was heart broken. He just looked down. "Please Y/N...we were married. You were my wife...You were Mine." He hissed softly, looking at you. Muzan looked around the small shop and it seemed to be empty now. "You we're my Wife! They took you away from me!" He said. Standing up. He looked down at you. Seeing your eye color. They still looked beautiful.

" Oh sir...I don't know what you're talking about..Please leave now!" You say, taking a step back. And this just made Muzan even more upset. How dare you tell him to leave.

He looked at you one last time before leaving you alone at the shop. He was going to get you back and he was going to make you remember him and your past life.

After awhile, you were closing up for the night. Cleaning up everything, you sigh and thought about that odd man. He did seem familiar, and his voice you also recognized. But nothing came to mind. As you were getting ready to leave, you heard something behind you, and before you could turn around you felt a arm wrap around you. And a cold hand over your mouth, you tried to struggle. But whoever was holding you had a strong grip.

"Shh don't make this harder for me my queen."

Hearing the voice of the man from awhile ago. Struggling more, this made Muzan growl softly and he tighten his grip against you. "Stop moving Y/N." He said removing the hand he had over your mouth. and he started dragged a nail against your cheek.

"Please sir.." You started to cry out. "I don't know you."

He snarled and with that he turned you around so you were facing him. He grabbed your face quite harshly and forced you to look him in the eyes. "YES YOU DO, WHY CAN'T YOU REMEMBER ME Y/N! I LOVED YOU! YOU WERE TAKEN AWAY FROM ME!."

You whimper softly, and started to tear up. This made Muzan softly. He loosen his grip but didn't let you go. "I'm sorry my love, it's just been so many years without you and I deeply miss you."

You just stand there looking at the man's eyes. His pink oddly familiar eyes... "Please...let me go."

Muzan didn't want to force you out of here but if he has too then he will. He smirked, looking down at you. Placing a hand around your neck and bringing you closer to him, he placed his lips against yours. Oh how much he misses your lips.

You just stand there shocked, and of course you didn't return the kiss. Muzan pulled away and smiled at you.

"Don't worry my love, I'll make you remember me." He said and with a quick motion he hit you across the head. You fell to the floor. Out cold, Muzan just sighed and picked up your body and he threw you over his shoudler.

"You're going to remember me Y/N. I'll make sure of it."

[imyourbratzdoll]

Could I request Jack sparrow x reader fluff?

hello, of course you can! I hope you enjoy what I've written, I added a tiny bit of angst, but I'm hoping it made the fluff even sweeter.

summary - jack had fallen in love once but had lost it. does he finally find it again?

warning - little bit of angst, mentions of alcohol and killing.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Captain Jack Sparrow had only ever fallen in love once. But the love was kept a secret as you weren’t human and it was dangerous for a pirate to love, especially your kind. There was something about you that pulled him in, connected the last piece of his puzzle, calmed the storm that brewed inside him. This love was beautiful, until the day you became hunted, causing you to flee and Jack to continue to search the seas. He’d always lie and come up with some insane quest, but the true quest was to reunite with his love again. 

Years passed by and Jack soon began to lose hope, he didn’t dare stop searching for you. But he was beginning to think that maybe you didn’t escape in time or that you had moved on wherever you were. Jack is thrown out of his thoughts as the ship rocks, he steadies himself by gripping the wheel tight. “Mr Gibbs! What was that?!” His hand moves to play with the light blue seashell in his hair, at least he had something of yours close to him. 

“I don’t know, sir!” Mr Gibbs runs over to the edge, looking over, his mouth opening and closing as he watches a tail splash above the water before going back down. “A siren! My gods, Captain!” 

Jack dashes over, trying to hide his hopeful expression. What if it was you? He’d be thrilled, but he’s with his crew and they wouldn’t waste a second without going for the kill. “No, how many?” He leans over, brows raised, eyes wide and arms in the air. 

“Just one as far as I’ve seen, Captain. What should we do?” Mr Gibbs looks at him, thankfully the rest of the crew were too busy with whatever they were doing to pay much attention. 

Jack waves him off, “Just one? Is fine! We will head to shore, I’m in need of more rum anyway.” He heads back, hoping that it’s you and that you’d follow him to shore. Jack could feel his heart in his throat, maybe some rum would do some good. 

They head to the closet land, no one speaks a word. Jack too lost in his thoughts and Mr Gibbs watching him closely, the older man wasn’t stupid. He had heard of the stories, the time that a pirate fell for a siren. He just didn’t know said pirate was his current Captain. When they finally reached land, Jack did something unexpected, he allowed everyone to go before him. Not racing off for booze or women, instead he headed off the ship and down to the beach. The sun had set, and the moon was rising, but Jack could still see clearly. 

As he moved closer to a rock formation, he noticed someone sitting on top. Your hair falling beautifully as always, your eyes that were once bright were now slightly dull and the smile was replaced with a frown. “Y–Y/n? Is that you, love?” 

You nod, “J–Jack…” You felt the sobs in your throat desperately wanting to come out. 

Jack rushes forward, his hand grasping your cheek while his eyes studied you. His own tears flowing down his cheeks. “My siren, my mate. The years I’ve waited for you.” He seals your sobs with a kiss, eyes slipping closed as he embraces this feeling. “I’m never letting you go again, love. Never.” 

Your hands feel his face and hair, they stop, and your fingers touch something familiar, your eyes move from his face and land on it. “You kept it…” You play with the seashell, remembering the day Jack had surprised you with a date on the beach and after you had eaten, you grabbed his hand and swam together. You remember popping your head up and handing him the pretty blue seashell, telling him that if you were ever apart that you would always be with him.

“Of course, I did, love. It was what kept me going.” He stares into your eyes with a gentle gaze.

Your hands stay on him, not wanting to stop touching him because then he might disappear again. “It’s been so long, I thought I lost you… I’ve been searching…” Your bottom lip trembles and your brows furrow. “I love you, Jack.” 

“I love you, my siren. More than words could express.” 

From behind and on the ship, Mr Gibbs smiles, raising a glass in the air before taking a sip. He was happy his Captain found his love again, thankful that his clues for you to find them finally worked.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello my wonderful fandom family :) We're finally back to new eps. I wasn't ready for this episode in the least. Idk I was ever gonna be ready tbh. If this isn’t the most apt ep name ever following the last ep. Bare with me as I once again sort through my thoughts and such. I'm really struggling with the 'mini' portion of these reviews the last few eps.

Ain't nothing mini about my emotions haha But I am sure come summer they'll be more refined for sure. Also thank you to anyone who reads these thoughts and enjoys them. It's still a trip to me people appreciate my thoughts. I just want to be a ray of sunshine and positivity with these.

A source of comfort while we all go through this together. Cause that's the beauty of fandom. Going through it together. Once again wanna preface there will be ZERO tolerance for bashing of any kind. They are both going through it right now. We all love these characters so much its why we're on here. I love conversation and comments but not spreading hate. With that in mind let's start eh?

6x07 Crushed

Tamara moving out still..... Ugh. I’m so sad about this. Truly the end of an era right here everyone. Also Lucy not wearing her necklace gut punch already to my feels...Poor Lucy wants her to stay but would never ask Tamara to do that. I wanna cry already for Lucy....I hate her necklace being missing and it's very obvious it's missing. *sad sigh*

I do love Lucy taking Tamara out to fancy dinner least. Channeling her emotions into something positive. Wanting to love on her before she goes. Tamara mentioning Tim getting kicked out of Metro…She isn’t wrong it is down hill after the pinnacle of Lucy indeed. Trying to give her a compliment but Lucy isn't taking it that way. I wanna cry for a second time. She looks so distressed. *sigh* Two massive pillars in her life are now gone and it's felt in this brief moment.

Tim in his old Metro office disassembling it. My heart. You all know how much I loved him In Metro. Killing me. Also just shows how much of a nose dive he took after this Ray debacle. Grey seeing this and sighing before going in after him. Tim seems like he’s in robot mode when Wade enters. Saying all the things he thinks Grey wants to hear since he’s back. No real emotion behind it. Just the grunt mentality he thinks he should have.

Gonna be more than just his trust you’re gonna need to earn back my love….Love Wade having him to ride along with Dr. London. Anyone needs it our boy does right now. Of course Tim bites back on this idea why wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t be Tim if he didn’t. Tim saying breaking up with Lucy has nothing to do with the Ray situation. Uh... it has everything to do with that my love EVERYTHING.

Grey standing his ground saying if he wants to regain his trust this is where it starts. I love him saying breaking up with Lucy and being bounced back to patrol due to being reckless makes him question his judgement. As it should…You forget Timothy this man watched you grow with Lucy for years. Saw how much she made you grew and joy she brought out in you. Of course he is questioning your actions. He just watched you throw away the best thing ever that's ever happened to you. Your judgement is being judged severely....

I adore Wade Grey. He's not only putting Tim in his place and saying he could mandate therapy (which he would be justified in doing...) Or take the ride along. Then saying he’s taking Lucy out too. Just so he knows he is looking out for them both in this moment. The man knows what he is doing.

I can’t believe Smitty doing breakup odds. I’m incensed by this tbh. Also I want punch the dude who said Tim would’ve cheated. He would NEVER. How very dare you. I hate that list. It makes me wanna rage out so hard. If any of them knew them at all they’d know it would never be something like that. Also her and Aaron? Ewww no no no.... Lucy had every right to ream Smitty out more than she did. So inappropriate it's insane. For shame sir truly.

I'm glad she shut it down. Last thing they need is the station gossiping about them like this. They're going to anyways but Ugh I hate this whole thing. I feel sick. Of course she runs into Tim right after.... Worst timing ever. Breaks my heart because he still is excited to see her but she isn't ready for him. How could she be? He looks so sad. But Tim what are you expecting my love? No way she is ready to be near you let alone talk. This hurts to watch…Lucy trying so hard just not to have a meltdown right there in the station.

I was very excited for him to have this ride along I will say and this opening scene is why. Dr London on his ass already. I love it. As she should be. Saying he’s bringing Aaron as a buffer. Which he is… Classic avoidance attachment style. That’s our boy. She’s not wrong he prefers surface level relationships (other than Lucy...) to a deep intimacy. His default state with anyone who isn't his girl.

She has him dead to rights already. Saying it’s a defense mechanism when someone is raised by an overly strict or domineering parent. A father. She’s not wrong. We all know his history. Tim of course isn’t about this whatsoever only making her assessment about him even more valid. Their scenes starting off real strong.

Grey wanting to check in on Lucy I do love it. He’s not wrong she’s been through HELL this year. The detectives exam, Jeff Budney and now losing Tim. God this hasn’t been an easy season for her. To say she's going through it is the understatement of the century. I'm hurting for her so very much. Her entire world has been rocked to it's very core in the last week alone. Not mention everything else before this.

It’s so awkward Lucy inviting everyone but Tim to Tamara’s going away dinner…. In front of Dr. London too. That shot from Tim’s body cam seems very intentional. As he looks at everyone she’s inviting but him. Way his head goes back and forth. Grey patting Tim on the arm on the way out. *phew* Rough start to the shift.

Of course their first call is disturbingly close to what she and Tim are dealing with. Not exactly what Lucy needs. Hearing this woman talking about thinking he was the one then it just ended. *heart clutch* Crushed is an apt name for how I was feeling during this episode.

Lucy has clearly kept this all inside for too long with her reaction to the situation. Wade would never set you up like that. Just shows how hyper sensitive she is atm. Why he's doing this ride along with her. He wants to keep you sane not crazy. I wanna hug her so much. 'I do watch too much reality tv. It's my bad' Lmao. Needed a little levity. This made me chuckle.

We hit the ground running about breakups with Dr. London. Honestly no need to beat around the bush for this observation of Tim. ‘Breakups are a trigger for many men. Especially since stereotypical gender roles prevent them from seeking out help. For fear of appearing weak.’ If that isn’t Tim and this entire situation right now…

Hell that's his ENTIRE life. He was shamed into never wanting help and if he did he was meant to feel weak for it. Just like she is stating above. She is very good at her job and just getting started. Tim can't hide in any of his normal brush off statements. Which I love. She has him pegged already and it shows. Quite the opening jab from her to start this off.

Lucy looks on verge of tears at all times right now and I’m dying. Especially when Grey brings up his name. Asking if they’ve talked since the breakup? Melissa straight killing me in this shop right now everyone. Those pre tears.....Saying she thought he didn’t care about her personal life. He’s not wrong if it affects her job it does matter. The point of this ride-along. To gauge where she is currently.

‘Smart to make the connection between IA and them breaking up. ‘Just a bad week.’ Oh its so much more than that…. Lucy protects him of course with the unethical portion. Bad place or not she's not going to cast any suspicion with that. But It’s so very clear she is painfully unaware why he did this to her. To them.

Only that he’s not emotionally available to her. *sigh* This is true. The man is a disaster zone atm. I mean he’s definitely occupied mentally in a way she doesn’t understand yet. Hell I don’t even think Tim understands it really. All he knows is he think's he's toxic and she’s better off without him. Which is a huge part of this episode tbh.

So she isn't wrong he is not emotionally available right now. That much is painfully true. The joke about the Diamondbacks was funny but sad at the same time. They found good way of getting little funnies in there with Grey. I do appreciate that. I'm a sports girl so I this made me smile.

Dr London really coming at Tim in this next section. She is wasting ZERO time with him. ‘Lot of romantic feelings start out as platonic love.’ Going right for it when she says he and Lucy were friends first right? His reaction…Gonna makes me bawl Eric. Hurts to watch this. Looks like he wants to cry. Ugh Tim. Killing me softly. She is getting under his skin quicker than he was expecting and you can tell. Hitting at a very raw nerve he's trying to keep hidden. He looks so distraught and emotional when he replies 'I was her T.O.'

Tim saying he’s not depressed. Oh my love….but you are. Depressed and wracked with a massive amount of guilt. ‘I broke up with her.’ So so defensive. Can’t let good doctor see this whole thing is crushing him. That would be weakness. He is fighting off a panic attack in this moment. So unsettled by this entire interaction. She is picking up on that guilt that is all but exuding out of him in this moment.

She really brings it home saying internalizing guilt and shame leads to self directed anger. Self harm and suicide. If that isn't Tim Bradford my god. The self directed anger is him in spades. His face while she tells him all this.. Oh my lord. She has him dead to rights once again. He is experiencing so much guilt about it and it’s written all over his face. Tim is barely keeping it together while she is telling him stonewalling will only get him sidelined. Honestly I’m glad she’s confronting him like this. Coming at him so hard cause Tim needs that especially right now.

He can’t have passive people in this life when it comes to this kind of stuff. The one person who could knock sense into him he’s pushed away. So Dr. London being here is much needed. Of course Tim snaps at Aaron cause he can’t handle what he’s currently going through. Lashing out because what she is saying to him is true and he isn't able to handle it. Hitting very close to home. So he's defaulting back to S1 Tim in this moment. Destroying Aaron in the process..

I love them talking about Tamara and the unconditional love Lucy has shown her. It’s so true. It’s that love that gave her courage to leave. Even though it's hard to watch happen. It shows what accepting unconditional love can do for you. Lucy bringing back to Tim because how could she not? Mentioning about letting people go even if you really care about them them. *sigh*. You can tell she is on the verge of tears once again.

That feeling where you've been keeping it inside for far too long. It comes out in anything you talk about. Like right now in this moment. Even talking about Tamara is cycling back to Tim and it shows how deeply upset she is. How could she not be? She is losing two of her people in one fail swoop. It's a miracle she hadn't lost it sooner than this moment tbh.

Lucy crushing me some more in this episode. Further proving she has zero idea why Tim did what he did. How he could let go so easily. It was a blindside for us all but none more than for her. His person. The one who never ever expected him to leave her side. Tim did leave her with a cheap cliche nonsense about deserving better. It's so much complex than that but I can see why she is so angry about that. She deserved better than that.

It’s what upset her so much in that 6x06 scene. Because it felt like a cop out to her. When it’s so much deeper than that but Lucy doesn’t know that. Thats what killing me and her. Lucy going off saying it was her decision to make what she deserves. It’s true. She is so justified in saying this. Sadly Tim made that decision despite her willingness to love him no matter what.

Took away her choice to keep him even if he felt he wasn't worthy. Wasn't just HIS choice to make. That's what pissing her off and rightfully so. He doesn’t understand the unconditional love she had to give him or how to accept it. All he could see was how much better she was without him. All she wants is a real conversation with him and she didn't get to have that. He took the choice away from her and she's left holding the emotional bag of it all and it sucks.

Punches keep rolling with Dr London. Attacking his problem at it's damaged root. As much as he is trying to bury it he cannot hide from her and her assessment of him. This is a huge turning point in the ep. Tim saying he owns his mistakes and moves on. So cut and dry and she isn’t having ANY of it. Nor should she. He hasn’t moved on in the slightest. Once again pegging him for not only not being over it but having his whole identity being wrapped up in acting honorably. If he was past that he wouldn’t have ended things with Lucy. We wouldn't be here. But he feels not worthy and not honorable enough for Lucy so he cut ties.

Her noting it’s had a devastating effect on his self esteem. Which is why he is punishing himself. i.e He let the love of his life go. He feels he doesn’t deserve such things for being so un-honorable. My broken boy. Tim isn’t sure what’s she is getting at. Asking what she's talking about? She continues to portray him accurately. That he is punishing himself by depriving himself of something he loves. Something that brings him joy. Or someone....Clearly that someone being Lucy.

The joy she brought to his life he no longer feels he deserves. Lucy was the one constant in his life that made him happy. So he’s depriving himself of it in order to punish himself. This sounds so harsh and severe but I relate to this. When I was new at my current job. I wasn’t very good at first. I was down right on the verge of being fired. I got a game plan to fix myself from my leader. BUT I was punishing myself for not being good enough in the first place. How did I do this? I took away something I loved and brought me joy. Music.

I refused to listen to music during my job because I felt I didn’t deserve it. I wouldn’t let myself enjoy it till I was better and had earned it back. I got to a place where I let myself have something I loved back and it helped so much and ultimately got me through it. So I relate to Tim doing this to himself i really do. He is denying the one person who brings him joy because of that self-punishment. He feels he has failed who he should be therefore he can't have what he wants and needs most. Lucy. You can really see it hit Tim by time Aaron rejoins them. She hit the nail on the head and Tim is feeling it.

Lucy spotting Tim and touching her tattoo SO MUCH. Ugh my heart. Her grounding method to remind herself she's a survivor. The problem with all that is him being the reason for that reminder. Which just hurts. I'm not crying you are....Tim so out of his depth all he can do is be awkward with his ‘Clocking out?’ Babe....No...(Also I feel personally attacked by this song they chose for this scene.)

Lucy calling him out for it instantly. Because well she’s his person. Bad place or not she is always gonna tell him what he needs to hear. Won't let him hide behind niceties. Confronting that things aren't ok between them and she won't let him use it to hide. Asking for a real adult conversation with him. One which he is NOT ready for. This hurt to watch not gonna lie. This whole situation hurts.

Tim deflects….with another cheap answer of saying he can’t give her what she wants. Ugh. You are everything she wants you foolish man. I don’t blame Lucy for cutting that convo off at the knees. She wanted more depth from him and got nothing in return. Telling him he has more to figure out than she realized…and feeling like she is no longer than person to help him with that.

My heart is breaking all over again… Lucy always felt she was his person to get him through anything and to hear this only hurts her further. Coming to that realization and taking off because of it. The song running through this scene is poignant and hurtful…Also the continual clutching to her tattoo as she departs from him. I'll just be weeping in the corner don't mind me....

I wasn't expecting the scene we got here in Grey's office. But was so pleasantly surprised. My hope was that Dr. London broke through to him. That his ride along with her wouldn't be a one-off. I’m so proud of Tim I can't even tell you. To not only see he has work to do but to ask if he could start seeing her as a patient. He seemed disappointed she didn't mandate sessions. Which he needed so he could advocate for himself. Blair had pegged him early on and I think this will be so so good for him.

His healing journey is starting now and I’m so excited for him. Even though my heart is outside my chest right now for our couple. This is going to be good for Tim. I know people have been weird about Dr London. I haven’t gotten a bad feeling from her. I could be wrong but haven't gotten that. I think this is the healing Eric was talking about. That journey he needs to be in order to find his way back to Lucy. Grey's line was perfect. It's SO hard to ask for help. Tim can see something is wrong and wants to fix it. This is a beautiful start to this journey for him.

This final scene with Tamara and Lucy made me cry. This whole ep has made me cry really. Their relationship has always been one of my favorites. To watch how they’ve both grown. How Tamara learned to trust again and receive that unconditional love Lucy had to give. Gah I love it so much. Took a broken untrusting girl and molded her into a confident bad ass. I've never been able to classify what they are. They're sisters, friends and family all wrapped up in one.

Hard to watch Lucy lose this piece of her life on top of everything else. Tim may have a lot of growth to do but I think Lucy too has room to grow from this all as well. She has been given quite the bad hand in this season. Maybe she can get some direction and clarity what she wants to do with career and such. I hate that she has to be the collateral damage to everything this year. It's hard to watch. But I am interested to see how she handles it all. See how she stands after all this. I think as hard as this is will end up making her more resilient.

Lucy been struggling with her own stuff this year as well. Being so good about pegging everyone around her but being blind in her own self awareness. it's going to be interesting to see how Lucy handles everything moving forward. I hope you all know how deeply my heart breaks for her. I don't like seeing her hurt anymore than I do Tim. I wanted to cry for her most of this episode. That being said I do think this growth journey will be good for her as well. Like Eric said she'll be ok they'll grow stronger from it. Can't wait to see how it plays out.

I wasn’t expecting one more scene with him reaching out like this. Telling her she was right. He’s mad himself. That stark realization that is coming over him. My god I’m so proud of him I could burst. Not only advocating for himself but telling her it was an emergency. When everything inside him is trying to do the 'honorable thing' and not call it an emergency when it is. To see he's not being a burden by reaching out like this. It’s so hard to take care of yourself when you don’t think much of yourself. It’s a foreign feeling and to act on it even more so.

Learning it’s ok to ask for help, to be imperfect, to set healthy boundaries and grow. Not an easy place to get to. This scene is HUGE for Tim. Now I mean this in the nicest way I can muster but If you can't grasp how groundbreaking this is for him you don't get him as a character at all. Nor do you understand the gravity of this SL/situation. Of what this final scene represents for him. Tim is seeing something is broken within himself and he doesn't know how to fix it. All he knows is something is wrong and he doesn't want to feel this way anymore. He wants to understand why and to get better.

I know I spent most of my 20's running away from therapy. Saying I didn't need it. That it was non sense. Pushing everything down and deflecting like Tim did. Wrapping my identity in the same things. Being SO DAMN HARD on myself. I still struggle with this but learning to give myself more grace. I can't properly explain the feeling you get when you realize you can't out run your demons anymore. What sets off something inside you that says 'I don't feel right, I don't know how to fix it but I know it's time to.' All I know is what sets it off is different for everyone.

For me it was the fact that I was set off by a kind comment. It was from a sweet lady who was a client of mine. Who commented on earrings my mother had gotten me. I hadn't thought much of it then she looked me in the eye with so much sincerity and said 'Your mother must love you very much.' That comment just hit me so hard. Triggered me. Cause some of my deepest seated trauma comes from my mom. I remember getting in my car and crying after. Texting my sister and telling her I thought it was time I got help. All I knew was something was wrong and it was clawing to the surface and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

That's Tim in this moment. Ray resurfacing was his demons coming up for air and not going away. This is his 'Come to Jesus.' moment about himself. Knowing what Dr. London was telling him today rang true. He just doesn't know to handle it and is reaching out for help to sort it out. Now He couldn’t gotten to this place without Lucy let’s not forget that. Tim wouldn't be in the place he is without her. BUT this is not Lucy's responsibility to fix. Nor should it be. As much as we love her being his person, this is Tim journey to go on.

Now my family/friends got me to place where I could see I needed help. Just like Lucy has for Tim. But it was up to me to take the first step. That's what this scene represents for him. His first step on his journey to healing himself. He knows he has work to do and I know he'll do it. He and I are alike and he will put his all into this. I'm excited the writers did what they did in this ep. Shows they're going to put the proper care into this SL. I can see a pathway way to their healing now and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in three weeks. I'm excited to see where the rest of the season goes for them both I really am. As always thank you for any likes, comments or reblogs I get for these they mean the world.

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford. Mostly lol

I like the idea of Celina moving in but she’s not wrong it would be an emotional minefield… but do love the idea of her living Lucy I don’t want her to be alone. Have one little win for her.

This was the song during that finale scene. Thank you D to finding the link above. it's Chenford Personified in this ep. Once again whoever is doing this songs. You need a damn raise this hurt so good. The lyrics were so Poignant and painful. These one were my fav. 'I miss you. I miss you. I’ll always forgive you."

She will forgive Tim because that's who Lucy is. One of the many reasons Tim fell in love with her. That never ending desire to trust people and forgive them. To see the best in them. She will look at the deeper meaning of his actions and help him past them once he gets there himself. He will have to earn that forgiveness of hers and I have no doubt he will.

This will be a process of that I have no doubt. It won't be quick or easy but my god it'll be worth it. They always are. I don't expect this to be resolved by seasons end but I do expect them to be on their way there by the finale. This is a beautiful growth journey they're about to embark on and I'm ready to go on it.

[transformation4life]

Cop Out

"Put your hands where I can see them!" A Cop got out of his police car to apprehend the vigilante spray painting a public building

Officer Harold had been on the police force for almost 20 years now and has been through all the hate Cops have been given over the years from being called a pig, to the protests, and all the mockery and slander. To him he didn't understand he was just trying to help people!

"Alright PIG, I'll stop," The vigilante Maxwell snarled back.

Harold sighed. Another day of being called a pig. Without much thought he grabbed his cuffs to detain Maxwell and send him to the station.

"Just so you know PIG. You may catch me now but I WILL be back!!!!!" Harold stopped in his tracks as Maxwell spoke again.

"Alright that's it Mister. I'm DONE with people like you. I've been on the force for years!!!! You will NEVER understand what we have to go through. We serve this country and we get treated like shit!! I just wish you would understand. Be in the shoes of someone on the force and then we'll see how you feel!" Harold blurted his frustration out at Maxwell which probably wasn't the best idea but he was his limit.

Maxwell couldn't care less but when he tried to open his mouth to speak more insults he found himself unable to speak. Not to mention something felt odd to him. Like he felt like he should respect Officer Harold despite all his earlier statements.

"O-Okay, sir..." Maxwell spoke in a meek tone.

Harold was a bit surprised to hear Maxwell suddenly respect him, but he appreciated the sudden niceness.

"Alright, I'll let you be just this once! Don't get in the way of another officer like myself and you'll be good in my book," Harold put his cuffs away and bids Maxwell farewell.

Maxwell waves goodbye and for some reason... he wanted to see the officer again. It was against all his bashing of police over the years and he knows it and yet... he yearns for it. He walked home to his meager apartment to sleep it off.

Maxwell woke up groggy as he stumbled his way to his dingy bathroom feeling like an entire weight dropped on him. Making his way to the mirror he looked like his usual self. Blond hair, brown eyes, skinny frame.. He remembered his encounter with Officer Harold and the strange feeling Maxwell got after Harold spoke his heart out. He longed to see him again, someway somehow.

"I wish I could see him again..." Maxwell said without thinking.

Suddenly Maxwell's phone began to rang loudly in his pocket. As a vigilante he always answered calls without question so he picked up the phone.

"Who is this?"

"Hello... Maxwell." a enchanting voice called to Maxwell immediately putting him in a trance that made him not want to hang up.

"Listen to me very carefully..."

"What are you doing?? How do you know my name??"

"You're a strong bodybuilder that's been working out for YEARS,"

"But I'm not-"

"You're a strong bodybuilder that's been working out for YEARS,"

"I'm a strong bodybuilder that's been working out for years," As soon as the words left his mouth Maxwell's body began to grow to fit his new lifestyle. Large pecs, massive shoulders, huge back, killer biceps that would make gods jealous with strong visible veins, a sexy set of abs, thick neck with a prominent adam's apple, and his crowning feature of thick beautiful thighs. His clothes melted away leaving him in his just his underwear as he remembered his years pumping iron and winning competitions. It was all Maxwell cared about.

Maxwell broke from his trance to give a quick bicep flex before the voice lured him back.

"You've been a cop for 10 years and LOVE your job."

"That's preposterous!! Bodybuilding is my only calling and not to mention those pigs-"

"You've been a cop for 10 years and LOVE your job."

"I've been a cop for 10 years and love my job." Years of bodybuilding now mixed with years in police training and Dean proudly showing his badge to any criminals that dared to cross him.

Black pants materialized onto his frame along with an accompanying black belt and black police boots with black socks that wrapped around his big feet. The belt was slowly being equipped with police gear one by one. Handcuffs, knifes, guns, and other miscellaneous things. All the things a cop like himself needs.

Maxwell was getting for work at the moment before this mysterious man called him. He does know he could get him arrested in seconds right? Oh well might as well toy with the fellow at least that's what Maxwell rationalized.

"Of course I'm an officer. Been one for ten years and I of course love doing my part, even the naysayers doubt my squad!"

"That's right Maxwell, oh sorry... Max,"

"Do you know who you're talking to? My name is Maxwell! Always have been always will-"

"Your name is Max Schmidt,"

"My name is Max Schmidt," Max loved his name. Fit his manly exterior and manly interior.

"So what do you want with me? Are you one of those ACAB folks? Trying to make me slip?

"No sir, I only want what's best for the force! And you... Now check yourself out..."

"That's inappropriate behavior unbefitting of an officer! What is your name so I can call the stati-"

"Open the camera app and check yourself out NOW," Max immediately took the phone off his ear and opened the camera app. He immediately zoomed in on his chest and abs and then felt those great abs of his.

While this was happening a black police shirt wrapped around Max's large frame as his hair darkened into a light black and his eyes became darker becoming a black color. Max's hair become more put together and more uniform fit for a police officer. A somewhat expensive white watch appeared on his left arm that he always wore. Max still wanted to obey the caller's comand so he used his hand to lift the new shirt to reveal his abs.

Underneath the tight pants Max's newly enlarged cock was having a hard-on.

"Good... Good... Now how do you love?" Max stopped checking himself out in order to respond.

"Haha! You really think I'd tell some criminal that! I don't have my eyes on anyone! Just hard work as police and muscle!

"That's not right, what about your loving husband... Harold?"

"Harold? My superior? Nah we're just good friends! I respect him a great deal but I'm straight as an arrow! No way I would ever marry a ma-"

"You're married to Harold Schmidt your loving husband,"

"I'm married to Harold Schmidt my loving husband," Max remembers the wedding well. Everyone in the force was there cheering them on as they kissed under the altar. Not to mention what they do in private at the police office. Max's already hard cock got even harder as a shiny ring appeared on his ring finger.

"That's great Max, just great! Just one more thing. How's your age going? Must be hard being 39 years of age,"

"I'm only 25, criminal."

"Nah, You're definitely 39,"

"I'm definitely 39," How could Mike forget his age. He reveled in his almost 40's age while his husband was a good ripe age of 50.

"Amazing, brilliant. My work here is done. Have a good day Officer Max," The call ended.

"...What was that?! I need to report this to the station immediately! Better get to work!" Max made another flex as a name tag with his manly name shined onto him. "M. Schmidt"

Max made his way to his cop car. He always loved throwing those pesky cop haters into the back and hear their screams and cries for help, usually with his husband in the passenger seat. Speaking of his husband he should send a pic to his husband to know he's coming to the station. But first his signature shades!

"Hey Honey, bicep flex for you <3" And sent.

Max's nametag shined in the glistening heat as he adjusted his rearview mirror.

"Lookin' good there, Schmidt." Max said to himself.

Max turned the car engine on and he gripped his strong weathered hands onto the wheel and drove to the station.

The drive was long, but standard for a officer like himself. Along the way he already had to apprehend a couple criminals that shouted the slurs he was oh so used to. It was quite tiring and had him quite parched so a good drink would do him good so he used his meaty hand to gulp down some fresh water from the bottle in the cupholder of his car.

"Honey I'm home!" Max shouted as he opened the door to Harold's office at the station.

"M-Max! Don't say it so loud! People will find out what we do in here!" Harold stammered out before getting hit with a kiss on the lips.

"I know I know, but can't the two strongest police officers on the force have a little fun while on the job?" Max said with a lustful smirk.

"Oh Max, I could never get mad at you. Although... Let's deal with the criminals you arrested first," Harold Nudged to the paperwork regarding the arrests Max was currently holding.

"Right..... forgot about that!" Max promptly threw the papers aside and began to undress himself right in front of his husband much to said Husband's shock.

"Harold! What are you-" Harold was interrupted as a passionate kissed began to form between the two lovers.

Harold's worries washed away as the lovebirds embraces with a passionate and long kiss. What felt like hours passed as they made out all over the room. The rustling of papers, knick-knacks all over the floor, and even a whole phone on the ground.

"I love you, babe." Max muttered

"Love you too..." Harold muttered back before snapping back to reality. The entire office was in disarray but the two of them were happier than ever.

"Say... let's get the boys out for a shooting range!" Max mentioned as he put his uniform back on.

"Sounds like a great idea! Those criminals can wait." The pair left to tell the boys they were about to a wild time.

Two unlikely people now bound together and neither were none the wiser of their old lives.

"Let's get to shootin' boys!"

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 9

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Hello! I'm sorry it takes me this long to write each chapter, but I have so many ideas for so many fics, and also, I don't want to fuck this one up😅

Let me know what you think, especially now that we're entering Mockingjay pt1, I would appreciate some feedback, so I can get better and better.♥️♥️♥️

Chapter summary: time to face the consequences. But that doesn't mean the fight is over.

Chapter warnings: violence, torture, guilt, implied rape, non-consensual touching, Cal, Finnick being a sweetie pie.

Tag list:

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17 @piya-re

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

Y/n's Pov

My mind can't register nothing but pain.

In my head.

In my chest.

Everywhere.

All I can feel is pain.

I can vaguely hear voices around me, but I can't make out what they are saying.

I'm tied down on a table, lights prevent me from seeing more of the room. I try my best to move, but I can't, I can't move an inch and breathing gets harder.

Suddenly the pain is gone. I immediately try to catch my breath and I try to also understand where I am exactly.

"The pain you feel right now is nothing compared to what I felt when I found out about your betrayal."

My chest tightens even more when I hear Cal's voice.

"Do you have any idea what that felt like?" He comes into my line of sight, I can clearly see his anger, jaw clenching as he leans over me, "you hurt me, princess."

"You... you... hurt me... f-first..." I stutter out, my throat hurts badly.

"Me?" He scoffs, "I hurt you first? Princess, do you hear yourself? I gave you everything."

I want to scoff, want to throw everything I've hold back all these years, but I'm too weak.

"You..."

"Shut up!" He screams right at my face.

"General." A voice calls from what I assume is the door.

Cal immediately stands straight, hard look on his face as he steps back.

"President Snow." Cal nods his head.

"Leave us, general." Snow orders.

"Yes, sir." Cal nods and looks down at me, "I will see you soon."

I look up at the ceiling, focusing on calming my heart and breathing.

"You know, miss L/n," he starts speaking as he walks closer, "I have to give it to you, you did fool me. I did thought you were finally realising what being in the Capitol means. What these games mean."

I dare look at him once he's close enough. He has a smirk on his face.

"And you believed me?" I ask with the voice I have left.

"I did, and for that I owe you my respect. If only you were this good at lying before I had to kill your brother... such a shame." He sighs, "I remember that day too, miss L/n, I remember the hatred in your eyes, how easily I could read you, your thoughts and your intentions. You wanted to die, didn't you?"

"Better... than this..." I mutter.

"Oh, yes, I know. But you made a mistake." He states, it's almost like he's teaching to a class, "do you know what mistake?"

I gulp and take a breath to answer.

"I... I cared..." I answer weakly.

"Exactly." He nods, "you started to care not only about the tributes you were assigned to, but the mentors... and the tributes you weren't supposed to help." My eyes shot to his face, "I have to say you also got better at hiding that, for a good while I thought you stopped. This will be no comfort to you, I'm sure, but I am very proud of you, my dear."

"An insult..." I grit out.

"Of course. Oh and let's not forget the threats you had to invent... wonderful ideas, absolutely wonderful. With that you convinced me, I have to admit. Ideas worthy of the Capitol." He says this knowing I feel guilty, knowing that I hated being part of the games.

"Just kill me already." I breath out.

"Kill you? My dear girl, how could I? I would never kill Capitol's Princess, no, no." He chuckles.

"Then what? Torture me until I don't know who I am anymore?" I try to raise my voice a little, but the pain in my chest makes it hard.

"No, that's for Mr. Mellark to find out. " He casually say and I open my mouth to say something but he cuts me off, "no, you will be always aware of what's going on. And whatever mistake you make, they will pay."

"No..."

"You see, miss L/n, you might think you got so good at lying that I wouldn't know you anymore. But I do. And I know the worst torture for you is not pain, even though that will come too of course, no, it's hearing your loved ones in pain and not being able to help them." He looks proudly at me, satisfied with my terrified reaction, "or better... knowing you are the reason they're screaming."

He then looks beyond me, to someone, nod his head and in that moment screaming fills my ears. My eye widen recognising the voice.

"No... no..."

"It's Mr. Mellark first session, thought you wanted to assist." He says, I pull at the restraints, but they're too hard and I'm too weak, "know that the pain he's feeling right now is sponsored by you, miss L/n."

After that he walks away, I scream at him all the insults that come to mind, but the exhaustion is kicking in.

Peeta screams and screams and screams, I can't imagine what they're doing to him, what he's thinking...

It's all my fault...

My fault.

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

Finnick's Pov

All Finnick can do now is make knots, knots, and knots. The only thing to try and keep his mind busy... but it's no use.

All his thoughts are consumed by guilt as he sits on the hospital bed in 13. He doesn't deserve it. He keeps repeating to himself. He should've gone back.

"Finnick." Katniss suddenly calls.

"I wanted to go back for Peeta and Johanna... but I, uh...I... I couldn't move." He dares look at Katniss. He can't read her expression, and he doesn't even want to. He sighs, "they have Y/n, too. They took her." He notices her expression softening, knowing the two girls were slowly developing a friendship, "she's, uh... she's in the Capitol." Then a horrible thought makes its way into his mind, "I wish she was dead. I wish they were dead and we were too."

Does he actually want it? He knows what the Capitol is capable of, and he knows that death would be more merciful. He can't even imagine what they're doing to his friends right now, how they're torturing them.

Death sounds so much more appealing.

Y/n's Pov.

The fetal position doesn't offer that much comfort as people say. The cold floor makes sure of it. I don't know how long they kept me tied up to that table, how long they forced me to hear they screams.

The doors opening get my attention and I immediately sit up and move closer to the wall. I hear the cell's door next to mine opening and closing. Then footsteps exiting the room.

"Y/n?" Peeta's weak and tired voice calls me.

"P-Peeta..." I move to the bars, along the wall we share, "Peeta, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't..." he groans, I can hear he's getting closer too, "don't blame yourself. It's... not your fault."

"I feel like it is... If I..."

"No," he cuts me off, "don't go down there. Don't blame yourself."

"What... what did they do to you?" I ask, hesitantly.

"I don't think thay will do you any good." He says, even in this situation he tries to look out for others.

"Please..." I whisper.

"Electrocuting." He sighs.

"Peeta..."

"Not your fault." He firmly says. "What about you?"

I sigh, still feeling my head throbbing.

"Same, and in the meantime they made me... listen to you."

"Oh..."

"You have to be stronger then them," I tell him.

"What... what do you mean?"

"Don't let them change you. They know it's your fear... Don't let them." I instruct, "Whatever they're going to do to you, whatever they're going to tell you, it's not real."

"I... I'll try." He says, his tone is scared and unsure. I wish I could do more, I wish I could take that pain from him.

"You have to."

An angry scream interrupts us and suddenly the doors are open again.

"Fucking assholes! Let me fucking go!"

I can see Johanna's being thrown into the cell in front of ours and the guards immediately leave without a word.

"Fuck!" She screams hitting her hands on the ground.

"Johanna..?" I call.

"Y/n! I thought they killed you!" She exclaims.

"That would've been too kind."

"You're right. Torturing people is more like their style." She agrees.

"What's their plan?" Peeta asks, a little hesitant, "I mean, what use could we be?"

"To convince the Capitol." I say.

"What do you mean?" Johanna asks.

"The Capitol loved Katniss and Snow wants to discredit her, he needs to." I explain, "he needs to convince the Capitol Katniss is the villain... or... convince them she was a victim too."

"Why would he do that?" Peeta's confused.

"Because it could use this to convince the districts too. If the districts believe she never wanted a revolution, if they believe she's only wants everything to go back to normal, they won't raise against the Capitol. They won't have a leader anymore. He could still control them."

"Why would they believe it?" She asks again.

"They managed to convince everyone of all sort of thing in the past few years, I wouldn't be surprised." I say.

"Right... and where do we fit in this plan?"

"Make us say what they want."

"How?" Johanna spats.

"Don't underestimate them." I glare, "don't think they don't have the means to get you to do what they need you to. And trust they will do whatever they can. And the Capitol can do a lot. You should know."

"Fuck. Fuck!" Johanna punches the wall, frustrated.

"No need to hurt yourself now, Johanna. Don't steal all the fun." I sarcastically tell her.

"So much fun, indeed." She agrees, "fuck! We better be dead."

"I wish... I wish." I breath out, I notice Peeta has been quiet for a while, "Peeta? Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I mean, no. Sorry, I..." he sighs, I can tell he's holding back tears, "I guess I'm scared."

"I know, I am too."

I hold out a hand between the bars, hoping he would see it and take it, thankfully he does, it's not the most comfortable position, but it gives us some comfort, I wish I could do the same with Johanna. I look at her and she sadly smiles and nods her head.

"It's okay." She whispers.

The doors suddenly open, harshly. Automatically we all move to the walls, to somwhow hide, knowing full well ot would be no use.

Then Cal gets in front on my cell, and my chest tightens again at the sight.

"Stand." He orders as he open the door.

I'm apparently taking too much time so he enters and yanks me up.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Johanna yells and hits the bars.

"It's okay..." I tell her, and Cal drags me out.

"You shut up," he says to Johanna, "unless you want another session."

"I'm okay, don't worry ab-"

"Shut up. Walk." Cal orders me.

No other choice but to walk.

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

Cal drags me all the way to a long corridor until we reach a room, in which he, not so kindly, push me.

The room is small, there's only a table and two chairs, it looks like an interrogation room or something. But what scares me the most is being alone in such a tiny space with Cal.

"We need to talk." He states, closing the door behind him. "Sit."

I do as he says, my eyes on him in case he wants to try something... not that I could be able to do anything about it, but it's little comfort... little.

"Why?" He simply asks.

"Uh?" I'm a little taken aback by the question.

"Why you? Why did they had to corrupt you?" He asks.

"Corrupt me..? What... what do you mean?" I'm just as confused.

"Why would you risk everything for them? It doesn't make sense to me." He says, sitting down in front of me, he tries to take my hands but I move them out of the way.

"Everything? What everything?"

"Your life, our life together. "

"You... are you serious?" I can't help the anger raising.

"We were so happy together, we want-"

"You were." I cut him off, "you were happy, I was miserable. Your father paid me to be with you, then you kept on paying me. You forced me to. Snow forced me to. You and any other person in the Capitol."

"I gave you everything." He grits out.

"Gave me every- what the fuck are you referring to? The clothes? The jewellery? Or the bruises? Maybe the nightmares" I spit back.

"I love you." He says.

"No you don't." I'm exasperated now, "you don't. I don't know what you think you love, but it's not me."

"Don't you ever tell me what I feel. I know damn well." He stands up, and come closer.

Once he's too close I get up too, to get as far as the small room allows me to.

"You have no idea what love is." I tell him.

"And you do?" He scoffs, "don't tell me..." He stops for a moment, considering me, "was I right all this time?"

"About what?"

"Odair." He simply says and I instinctively look away from him, "I was right!"

He quickly corners me into the wall, hand around my neck and the other grabs my wrist tightly as I try to push him off.

"Cal..."

"Remember this: you are mine. Mine. We will get married soon, the people will see you as a victim of this mess, and once I get my hands on him... I will kill him and you will watch." He threatens.

"No..."

"Yes, now, if you don't mind I missed our time together... I plan on making up for lost time." He whispers, face getting closer to mine.

It's when I feel his lips on mine that I start to push and turn around, but he's too strong for me... all I can do is let him.

Finnick's Pov

Finnick's been sitting all day, he doesn't even want to eat or sleep, he only does because he knows Y/n would scold him for it.

The door opening catches his attention, and relaxes a little seeing Haymitch walking in.

"Mr. Odair." Haymitch nods and stands in front of him, "how do we feel today?"

"Maybe better than you." Finnick answers, "How's rehab doing?"

"It could be better... I have to admit." He replies, tone's heavy.

"I have to ask..." Finnick starts.

"She was supposed to be at the rooftop with me, we waited, we did wait... until we couldn't anymore." Haymitch starts to explain, guilty visible in his expression and talking, "I kept my eyes open the whole time just to catch a glimpse of her, but I'm afraid the peacekeepers were already at her apartment." He sighs, "I'm sorry."

"I don't think she would like you blaming yourself." Finnick tries to joke, tears in his eyes.

"Oh, I know." Haymitch sadly smiles, "we'll get them all back."

"Really?" Finnick doesn't want to hold his hopes up, but if there's even the smallest chance of seeing her again, he would grab it.

"I owe her." Haymitch mutters more to himself than to Finnick.

Finnick wants to ask him how he thinks they're alive, but suddenly, the Capitol theme starts, and the Capitol symbol appears on the TV in the room.

"What's this now?" Haymitch groans.

"Hello. Good evening." Ceaser face appears as he greets the audience, "and a big welcome to all in Panem. I'm Ceasar Flickerman. And whoever you are, whatever it is you're doing... if you're working, out down your work. If you're having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness this tonight."

"What do you think they're doing?" Finnick asks.

"No clue." Haymitch replies, eyes focused on the TV.

"There has been rampant speculation about what really happened in the Quartel Quell. And here to shed a little light on the subject for us is a very special guest. Please welcome Mr. Peeta Mellark."

"What the fuck...?" Haymitch scoffs.

"He looks well..." Finnick comments.

"Yeah, you know better than anyone how good the Capitol is too hide all sort of bruise." Haymitch says.

They pay attention to what Peeta's saying, he explains what happened, how he lost Katniss before the end.

"What do they want to do?" Finnick's confused to see Peeta like this.

"I don't know... maybe they want to destroy Katniss' image of leader...I don't know." Haymitch mutters, "or maybe Snow wants to destabilise her."

They fall silent again seeing Peeta referring to the camera.

"I want everyone who's watching to stop and to think about what a civil war could mean. We almost went extinct once before. And now our numbers are even fewer. Is this really what we wanna do? Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately. Or else that's it. For all of us."

"Peeta... are you calling for a cease-fire?" Ceaser checks.

"Yeah. I am. I want everyone to stop the senseless violence. This is not the path to change." Peeta agrees.

"What..." Finnick starts, alarmed, "what are they doing to them?"

"I don't even want to imagine." Haymitch groans.

"Now. Ladies and gentlemen... a special surprise." Ceaser begin to speak again, "you love her, she's part of everyone's family and now she's been entwined in today's speculations, but such misunderstanding will be easily wiped off once she gets to say her side. Please welcome our Princess, Y/n L/n!" He announces.

"What?" Finnicks stands immediately getting closer to the screen.

"Hello, Ceasar, long time no see." She brightly smiles at the host.

"Indeed, my dear." Ceaser takes her hand and kiss the back of it, "it's so nice to have you back here. Unfortunately, we're not here for our usual chat, are we?"

"No..." she says, sadly. Finnick gets even close to the screen so he can notice any detail possible. "But I think I can make some clearance on this whole situation, if you'll allow me of course."

"Look." Finnick tells Haymitch pointing at Y/n's hands, "look at her fidgeting."

"She's nervous... what about it?" Haymitch asks, getting close too.

"Look at it." Finnick repeats.

Haymitch then focuses on her hands, she's wearing rings and she is turning them left and right.

"There's a scheme." Haymitch breaths out, "she's sending a message."

"Yes, she is!" Finnick can't help but exclaim, "she is! My brave girl."

"You know that if they find it they will kill her." Haymitch warns.

"I know... she does too." Finnick goes back at looking at her face, she doesn't show any emotion except the ones she uses to fool the Capitol.

"I have to tell Plutarch." Haymitch walks out.

"As you could hear, all a misunderstanding." Ceaser announces, "It's great, let me tell you, you would've broken my heart."

"I could never!" Y/n fakes pity, "you're my favourite person!"

"Hear that! I'm her favourite person!" He laughs and takes her hands, "let's not make your future husband jealous now" he winks.

Finnick notices Y/n slightly tensing, he notices because he knows her, everyone else wouldn't blink an eye at that.

"Oh he knows he can't top you." She winks back.

"Now you flatter me, my ego is too big without all these praises." He smiles, "Alright, people of Panem, it's all for today. Have all a good day and stay tuned for more news!"

And with that the TV turns off.

"You're still fighting..." Finnick mutters by himself, relieved by seeing her on screen, "my brave girl."

[roguelov]

Cat’s Cradle

Summary: You were crafted by him, crafted to serve the Dreaming and dreamers of all kinds. You were granted the ability to alter your appearance, to the feline variety, to hide in dreams. You, however, never imagined falling in love with him. But, when he left to take care of a rogue nightmare, only to never return, your heart broke. So, you ran to the Waking and soon met someone new. But, when Dream returns, how will he react to find you missing?

Word Count: ~5.2k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: Some angst (abandonment and heartbreak), fluff, pining

Requested by the magnificent @chainsawsangel

Part 2

A curious question to ponder: do animals dream? And if so, what do they dream of? Do dogs dream of chasing squirrels? Do cats dream of hunting in a jungle? Do snakes dream of being ginormous and slithering about?

And the answer to all of these: yes, yes they do.

Far before humanity was where it was today, animals were the first to flock to the Dreaming. They were the first dreamers. Although their dreams may be plain, or simpler, compared to humans; they were still dreams. They were still precious, still hopeful.

But, as humanity evolved and grew, the Dreaming started to accommodate for humanity more. The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares had to turn his attention to those with far more complex dreams, to those impacting the Waking world with each breath and decision. In order to do so, he created his dreams and nightmares.

He created you.

You were one of the first dreams, and dare say the oldest. However, you were unique compared to the others. Your purpose was to oversee all dreams, and more specifically the dreams of the vast amount of creatures. When Dream could not lend his attention to the dreams, you were there.

In disguise, of course.

Dream not only created you for this single purpose, he also granted you the ability to alter your form. You could change into any feline creature from an average house cat to a vicious cougar.

And so it was for years, centuries. Your days were spent doing your duties and whatever you pleased. It was simpler in those earlier days, easy to seperate yourself from Dream. Creator and creation. However, as years passed those strict lines, those boundaries drawn, shifted.

Under the shade of a tree, in Fiddler’s Green beautiful picturesque forest, Dream lounged in the foliage’s shade. Books, taken from the library for his various researches, surrounded him. He needed a change of space and air to think.

You, on the other hand, were slinked away in the nearby bushes, quietly stalking him.

“Hello, my dream.” Dream’s eyes flickered up, catching yours.

But, Dream always spotted you, always knew when you were around. You walked out on paws while your silted, seemingly glowing amber, eyes stayed locked on to his dazzling oceanic blue. Reaching the edge of the tree’s shade, you calmly sat down in front of him, with your tail curled around you.

“And what can I do for you, (Y/N)?” Dream asked.

It started with your body, it stretched and elongated. Next was the fur, its cotton like texture retracted, leaving only soft skin. Then there were the fine details, from the tail vanishing with a flick, to your ears once pointed rounded out, to fingers growing as claws became dull nails, to your eyes more natural color for a human. It was intriguing to watch how quickly you changed. In a blink of an eye, you stood tall before Dream on two feet. You bowed your head slightly, “Apologies, my lord, for interrupting.”

Dream brushed off your formalities. “There is no need to apologize. Speak, what is it that you need?”

“Only to give my daily report, sir.”

Ah, yes, how could he forget. “Proceed.”

Reports were a necessity to ensure prosperity in the Dreaming. Any one wrong detail, any confusion, would mean possible devastation for a world crafted on such complexities. Luckily, you recounted all the dreams you saw and nothing out of the ordinary, for dreams that is. Dreams were chaos, but the Dreaming controlled such chaos.

“Thank you,” Dream said with a nod of his head.

“Of course.”

Normally, you would leave. But, this time your feet were rooted in place. Your eyes darted around to his stacks of books, then to the empty forest surrounding him. The quiet, hushed breeze blew past your ears, and it carried no other voices. It was Dream and Dream alone. And in this moment for some reason, your heart broke. A tiny fissure, truly, but a fissure which in time would grow.

He is always alone.

“Is there something else?”

Your attention snapped over. Dream’s eyes, typical pale blue, were nearly black for a fleeting moment, blending into the shadows. A midnight sky that twinkled with endless stars and universes. Cold, lonely.

You were not sure how to word it. You appear lonely, my lord. Do you wish to have company?

His pride was a fickle thing. One word could offend him. You, thankfully, knew how to navigate it fairly easily.

“May I stay?” You asked.

If I can help it, I don’t want you to be alone.

Dream cocked his head, curious by your question. He paused, considering it then spoke. “If you wish.”

With a single nod, you leapt into the air, changing back into a small house cat. You swiftly and easily climbed up the tree and splayed across a branch directly above Dream. Your eyes dropped down, catching Dream peering up at you. He quickly looked away and returned to his studies.

That.

That was when the boundaries shifted and soon you became friends. Eons, you grew closer and closer. But, the line was pushed further in the recent centuries.

To be fair, it was never your intention to fall for Dream. You knew of his previous relationships, you knew of the pain that somehow inevitably followed - such devastating heartbreak.

But, you did.

You fell.

No, not a dramatic fall such as one falling from grace. No, not all at once. It wasn’t as poets described as a burning flame that blazed into an uncontrollable, all-consuming fire.

No.

It was unknowing, it was subtle. It was like walking down stairs, just one step at a time. It wasn’t until you reached the bottom and was face to face with him, and reality, that it finally dawned on you what had happened.

His plain pale eyes were now the morning sky guiding you from the chilly night, bringing you hope and awe. With a simple glance, your heart now skipped relentlessly in your chest, sending you into a dizzying state of infatuation. His messy unruly hair now tempted you to run your fingers through it, to have his head on your chest and whisper poetry of your love and playful secrets into his hair. His lips - the prettiest pink like fresh spring flowers - now beckoned you forth to taste, to hear his velvet voice sing your name.

Your heart was completely given over.

You only hoped he would care for it.

“My dear (Y/N), my sweet dream, there you are.”

You, in feline form, laid sprawled in the sun, tucked - hidden from all except him - in the palace’s garden. It was your place of solitude, your place of peace, your place to untangle your thoughts.

A place Lord Morpheus showed you, and his presence rippled throughout here.

You saw his twinkling eyes in the blue sunny sky, or in the dark starry night. You heard his voice on the wind, whispering through the branches and bushes. You smelled him in the flowers, and morning dew. You felt him in the warmth of the sunlight, constant and never changing. He was always with you. You would ever escape him. Your mind could never untangle him from your thoughts. But, like a fool in love, you locked yourself in this beautiful gilded cage, happily tossing away the key.

You peered up at him from your patch. Your heart soared. His eyes, however, flickered with minor confusion. “Where have you been? I have not seen you for days.”

A twinge of guilt rose up.

Your features shifted and grew. Instantly, you were on two feet again, standing before your lord, your friend, and your infatuation. “Apologies,” you dropped your head, “I didn’t mean to cause you any worry.”

He gently, with his thumb and forefinger, tilted your head back up. A small frown tugged on the corners of his lips. “I only worry for you. Please, tell me, what has troubled you?”

A heat flushed over your chest. Eons spent together. You had always been close with him, but now since this startling revelation nothing had been the same. Steeling your emotions, you snipped the wings of those pesky butterflies fluttering inside your chest. You smiled easily. “Nothing to worry you, my lord.”

Please, I told you to forgo such formalities, he thought.

His frown stayed. He searched your eyes for any tells. Seeing none, he sighed, dropping his hand from you. You desperately fought back from chasing after his delicate, comforting touch. “If you say so,” he muttered. “You just seem distracted lately; and dare I say avoiding me.”

You swallowed down your nerves. “Never, my lord.”

“Are you unwell? Perhaps, displeased?”

“Displeased?”

His frown deepened. “With your duties? Your life?”

“What? No, no, never.”

“Then why do I not know what you are thinking of anymore? I prided myself in always knowing what thoughts were behind your clever eyes. But, now? I feel as if I am looking at a stranger.”

You were a stranger.

You were a different person now. You had to hide your truest self. You always spoke freely with Dream. One of the few who did not fear his wraith; the others being Lucienne, Merv, and Jessamy.

You stepped back, pulling away from him.

“Lucienne, I - I don’t know what to do with myself.”

You snuck into the royal library, pulling Lucienne aside to speak with her. You needed to tell her what you had been feeling lately - confide in her. Hopefully, she can shed some light on this developing situation. She was your oldest friend, you trusted her and hid nothing from her.

Lucienne smiled to herself, shaking her head. She peered over the rim of her glasses and cocked her brow. This certainly was amusing for her - as if she didn’t already didn’t deduce your feelings for the king. “I believe you know exactly what you must do.”

I can’t, you vehemently thought. “But what if -“

“I never thought there would be a day you would fear him.”

You huffed. “Fear him? I do not fear -“

“I am only teasing you,” she said, sensing your displaced hostility.

You grumbled, but with Lucienne you could never stay mad at her. Your lips already twitched upward, showing her your anger was more for show and dramatics.

She gently took your hands. “Tell him. You know it is the right thing to do.”

She knew your feelings of Dream before your own realization. She knew you the best. You were always the closest to him, but she noted all the subtle changes in your demeanor. And so, she only waited for this day to happen, for you to come to her with your own revelations. Of course, she would never admit it to you, but her and Mervyn may or may not have placed bets on you.

You glanced down at your hands in hers. “I … I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t.”

You wanted to scoff. Dream’s past lovers did not end happily. Heartbreak and ruin seemed to follow him like a leech sucking on any joy he may have.

“It’s not easy, but to say nothing would be worse.” Lucienne squeezed your hands, giving you a douse of courage to act. “Would you truly be happy saying nothing?”

You paused. Would you? You sighed heavily, “No, I don’t think I would.”

“Then tell him.”

You agreed, almost hesitantly. “I will.”

Now, Lucienne’s words tossed around your head, that simple question which cut directly to your core: would you truly be happy saying nothing?

You looked to Dream, meeting his gaze once again. Just as easy as he could read you, you could read him. Confusion and worry plainly written in his dazzling eyes. Taking a deep breath, you started to unveil the truth, “I am truly sorry for making you worry, it was never my intention.”

“And what was your intention?”

You thought about it for a moment, considering the correct word then said, “Self-preservation.”

Dream’s eyebrows knitted together. “How so?”

You took a tentative step forward back towards him. “In a way, you were right that I am a stranger. I have discovered something about myself recently.”

Dream stayed quiet, letting you speak without interruptions - letting you come to him.

“It was scary, and I never expected it would happen, yet here I am.” You stepped closer. Your heart raced frantically in your chest. “I hope you do not hate me for what I am about to say and allow me to stay here in the Dreaming.”

Dream tilted his head. “I have never found myself hating you for any reason, nor do I think such a thing would happen. And I would never banish you from the Dreaming for it is your home, but you do have me slightly more worried now.”

You reached out. You hooked your index finger around his pinkie, slowly drawing him to you. “Centuries, eons, spent together and I have adored every second. I love my life, I love everyone here, and - and … I’ve always loved you, a platonic love. However, it has changed recently.”

Dream’s eyes fell to your finger hooked around his. Slowly, unsure if was hearing you correctly, his hand turned and his fingers threaded in between yours. You didn’t move, you didn’t run.

You let out a shaky breath, relieved but absolutely frightened.

“If I am wrong, tell me.” Dream said as he met your eyes again. “Although I have said you have become a stranger, that was not quite true. It was I who had also changed. But -“

Your heart constricted.

“But, I feel as if I should warn you.” He grabbed both of your hands, ensuring you listened fully to him. “You know of my past for you were always part of it. You know of my relationships and the inevitability which always seems to follow. I am telling you this to ask you now: is this what you want?”

You gazed into his sky blue eyes. Trepidation evident in his eyes. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, tears of fear and potential heartache. He tried desperately to hide it, but nothing could be hidden from you. You reached up, cupping his face and carefully brushed away the tears. “If you will have me, then yes.”

“You will always have an out, the door will always be open for you to leave.” He said it, but he did not wish it to be true. He wanted you here, he wanted you by his side for eternity.

“I’m not afraid.”

“You should be.”

“Possibly.” You brought his face closer to yours. “But, would I be happy if I left now without trying? No, I don’t think I would be.”

You kissed him. His lips were like petals, soft and warm; like a fresh spring flower after a terribly rough winter. You exhaled as your heart swelled up in your chest. However, his lips moved slowly, methodically.

Measured and unsure.

Scared.

But, quickly, his restraint melted. He grabbed your waist, flushing your bodies against his. He was feverous. He tilted his head, and parted his mouth. His tongue slipped inside. Oh, all the years he wished to taste you. And now he has. So sweet, so delectable.

You hummed.

Oh, he loved that noise.

He pulled away, and pressed his forehead against yours. Hearing your breathlessness, his heart fluttered. He did this. It was his doing. And now, only he could conjure it, only he could steal your breath. And in turn, so can you. You could steal his attention, take his breath as your own, draw out desires and sinful sounds.

You were his.

And he yours.

Initially, you thought yourself a fool, locking yourself in the gilded cage of blind love.

No.

Morpheus, finding your key to your gilded cage, unlocked it. He guided you out, meeting you halfway. You would not be trapped, confined, to him, but his equal - his partner. And if you still saw yourself bound to a cage, he would step inside locking said door behind. The two of you locked together, either until the universe collapsed or maybe - and unlikely in either of yours’ eyes - until one of you moved on. But, until then, it would be beautiful. Each of you would lead with your heart, each of you would bare your soul, each of you would love each other wholeheartedly.

So, you thought this was it.

You and Dream. And the Dreaming.

Your combined love was limitless. He was the world: the sky with its assortment of colors, the sturdy ground providing its nurture and care, the bottomless oceans with its secrets, and the rising mountains reaching unknown heavens. While you were the important details: the intricate woven web of animals and balance, the imperfections from nature adding to individuality, the innate curiosity and creativity of people and their arts and inventions, and the unbelievable hidden wonders in an expanding world.

You gave life - purpose - to his world.

However, as you each predicted, it did not last. Trouble stirred off in the distance. Your world would soon shatter. A nightmare, one you knew fondly, escaped to the Waking, and Dream must retrieve him before the damage becomes too much. When Dream told you he was going to the Waking, a horrible feeling sunk to the pit of your stomach. You wanted to grab him and hold him close, forbidding him from leaving. You wanted to beg and tell him to forget about the Corinthian. You wanted to lock him away. But, there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t stop him, even if you fell to your knees pleading with tears in your eyes. Although you loved him and all his imperfections, his senses of responsibility and pride knew no bounds. He had to do this. So, you wordlessly watched as he walked away - walked out of your life.

Days passed.

Slowly, painstakingly slow.

You mostly kept busy with your duties, much like all the dreams and nightmares during this period. You all worked as if nothing has changed: overseeing dreams, ensuring order in the chaos, and documenting anything unusual.

Weeks then crawled by.

The first whisper of doubt started: Dream would not return, Dream had abandoned his duties. Yet, as quickly as those whispers started, they were silenced. Dream will come back. Everyone believed he would, and so did you.

How naive.

Months became years.

Fiddler’s Green vanished. He took his greenery - all those lush fields and extravagant flowers - and left to go to the Waking. And not knowing, he also took all your precious memories of Dream with him. Moments under the shade of a tree side by side, moments of strolling along a worn down path, moments of soft unspoken love ripped away like a weed.

“I wish to see the Waking for myself,” Fiddler told you before he left. “I do not know if Dream has abandoned us or not, all I know is I wish to see other worlds, to hear others’ stories. If he does return, then maybe one day I will too.”

You smiled, despite the heartbreak. “And I wish you the best, Fiddler.”

He returned the sorrow filled smile, and kissed your forehead. “Do find me when he comes back. I will miss your presence amongst my trees.”

The next to leave was Gault. She slipped away, like a shadow slinking back into the darkness. She was one to always keep to herself. She didn’t speak to anyone about her leave; she simply left, taking her nightmares with her.

As years passed - decades - the Dreaming started to crumble piece by piece and most left seeking refuge elsewhere or looking for new purpose. Dreams and nightmares gone. While the poor dreamers could not pass into the Dreaming anymore, the doors shut until its lord returned.

If, he returned.

“Our lord will return,” Lucienne said to you.

You were both in the library. You sat on top of a long barren table - one which used to hold multiple dreamers who would read side by side or possibly write out their own stories - while Lucienne stood on the end scanning through her own notes and hand drawn maps. Books were disappearing and she was trying to make note of it all from what books, in what section, and so forth. Even now parts of the library were beginning to be blocked off. She needed to write everything down, she needed to do her duties for the library - for the sake of the Dreaming.

“I’m not so sure,” you muttered. Your gaze was ahead directed on a stained glass window, one of the many in the library. The beautiful mosaic had a notable crack running through the middle and splintered out. A strong wind could blow through, sending shards everywhere.

Lucienne peered up from her work. This was the first time you had ever spoken your doubts out loud. But, she knew you had lost your faith long ago. A frown had permanently etched into your face since Dream left. Your eyes once bright were now awfully dull.

“I believe it.” You lazily looked over, meeting Lucienne’s determined eyes. She continued, “Lord Morpheus will return. He would not abandon us.”

“I fear you are the only one who believes that.”

“Do you truly think Morpheus has left? Do you believe he has left the Dreaming, all his responsibilities- you? You are the closest to him, surely you would have known something if he were to leave indefinitely?”

You dropped your head. “I have known Morpheus for eons, but that does not mean I understand him completely. He withholds many things from me. If it may cause me any distress he will not say, and although I appreciate the concern and sentiment in the end he only closes himself off. The distress unfortunately always comes from him, from his duties, from holding the collective unconsciousness. His pride does not allow him to burden others -“ you sighed -“ no matter how much I used to tell him otherwise.”

Lucienne frowned. “So, you truly don’t know where he may be?”

She assumed you must know something. But, she was terribly wrong.

“No, I do not.” You leaned back on your hands, staring back at the cracked window. “And in a strange way, I hope he doesn’t return.”

Lucienne blinked, stunned. “What? Why?”

“He deserves to rest, Lucienne. If the Dreaming stayed, and if other realms were not affected, then yes I would wish for him to venture off to other worlds, to run from all of this.” You hopped off the table. “I wish I could take away all his responsibilities, all his worries. He always carried so much.”

Lucienne was unsure how to respond, but a question did strike her. “Do you not wish for him to come back? To not come back to you?”

“Of course, I do.” You spun around, facing her. For the first time, Lucienne finally noted your watery eyes. “Of course, I want him back. I miss him dearly, and my heart breaks constantly. But, if he is happy elsewhere, then why am I to deny that for him?”

“You would compromise your own happiness?”

“I would do so much more for him.”

“And what of you? Who looks after you?” Who looks after your happiness, she thought.

“… myself.”

“(Y/N) -“

“I think I will leave to go to the Waking.”

She closed her mouth. Her concerns and questions were now redirected: you were leaving. “The Waking?”

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “and I think you should come with me.”

“Go with you?”

“Yes.”

“But, the Dreaming?”

“I cannot stay here anymore, Lucienne. Like I said, my heart breaks constantly. I cannot stay in our bed any longer, I cannot escape this vast bitter coldness. I have to leave.”

Lucienne frowned. “I understand.”

You walked towards her and grabbed her hands. “Please, you should come with me.”

Lucienne smiled, a beautifully regrettable smile. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

You nodded, trying to hide your pain. You swallowed down the swell of emotions. “I figured.”

Lucienne gently squeezed your hands, reassuring and loving. “Go,” she whispered, as she battled her own emotions.

‘Don’t worry about me’ was the underlying message.

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I will not forget you, Lucienne.”

She laughed, despite tears springing from her own eyes. “I would hope not.”

You smiled as tears slid down your cheeks. You yanked her forward, throwing your arms around her. “Please, I hope you are not angry with me.”

“Never,” she whispered.

“If you ever need me, find me - call for me. I will do whatever you want.”

“I know.”

She didn’t say ‘I will’. She didn’t wish to call upon you, to drag you back here to your misery. She wished for you to prosper, to smile joyfully again.

You needed to live for yourself. No longer were you an ethereal dream aiding the Dreaming, no longer were a loving partner to Morpheus, no longer were you a kind and endearing friend, you were now on your own. You were on a journey of self discovery.

You tightened your arms around her once more, before reluctantly releasing her. Your eyes shone with tears and smiled through the heartache. “I love you, Lucienne, one day we will see each other again for that I am certain.”

“I will await here to see you both return. And I wish you the best, (Y/N).”

Your heart broke. “Goodbye, Lucienne. Please tell those left I wish them the best.”

“I will. Goodbye, (Y/N).”

You left rather quickly, briskly walking away and not daring to look back. You didn’t wish to see Lucienne’s tears, see the now dusty library with cracks in the foundation; you wanted to preserve all the memories, cheerful and happy.

Standing outside the gates of the Dreaming, you stared off across the vast, empty grey beach. You had nothing on you, for there was nothing you could carry. In the distance, a call hummed - a tug of the universe ready to open to other realms. You tentatively glanced over your shoulder. The grandiose gates of the Dreaming were closed, locked behind you. You sighed. Memories of all your life spent in the Dreaming rushed by: memories of your friends, memories of Morpheus. So bittersweet. “May we meet again … hopefully.”

You leapt into the air.

When you landed in the soft sand, you landed on four paws and with a tail that swished back and forth. Without looking back again - knowing you may never leave if you did - you calmly strolled forward, letting the sand swirl around you. It completely clouded your vision. Yet, you kept walking, drifting away from your home to an unknown world. The soft uneven sand under your feet became rigid and sturdy. The dark cloud of sand faded, revealing a bright sunny afternoon filled with countless faces and colorful structures. The once deafening silence, and chill, of the Dreaming replaced by a chorus of chatter and buzz of life. As the last drop of sand vanished, you found yourself in an alleyway in a bustling vibrant city. People passed by, living their lives. While you, an unsuspected dream, was now amongst their population.

Or in their eyes, a simple house cat.

For the first time in years, you were thrilled with the uncertainty and possibilities to come. You had a glimmer of hope fluttering in your empty chest, you had a joyful twinkle slowly returning in your hardened eyes.

It was a fresh start.

But, you were woefully unprepared for what the fates would send your way.

It had been years since your arrival to the Waking. You traveled, walking among the humans as one. You tasted exciting new dishes, learned different languages, visited amazing places, and met interesting people. However, you met people, you did not let them in. No friends, no relationships of any kind. Your heart could not bear it. So, you only watched humans and life from a safe distance, skirting its edges to save your heart from any trouble.

He, on the other hand, disregarded any and all barriers you put up.

“Well, hello, look at you.”

You - in feline form this late morning - perked up from your spot, sunbathing in front of a cafe. The owner, a sweet elderly lady, was always pleased to see you and left treats out occasionally. However, it wasn’t the owner who greeted you, it was a man. A man wore a tweed jacket, black turtleneck, and glasses perched on his nose. He had a kind, gentle face - one found in stories of princes and heroism. His eyes held worldly knowledge and strangely bountiful hope.

The man crouched down in front of you, extending his hand out as a greeting. You wanted to turn your nose away, but something told you not to. Curiosity? Possibly. To ease your burning new curiosity, you accepted his hand and sniffed it: dried ink, old papers, coffee, old cologne, mixed with potential and nostalgia.

He certainly was a strange one.

The man smiled excitedly, elated to see you have accepted him. He slowly scratched the top of your head and soon behind your ears. You unconsciously pushed your head into his hands. So kind, so comforting. A part of you ached deeply over his simple touch.

“Do you have a family? A home, little one?” He asked out loud.

“No, she doesn’t.” The man perked up, looking at the cafe owner. She smiled at the man and you. “She just appeared one day. She comes and goes as she pleases, but she always comes back.”

The man turned his gaze back onto you. A frown tugged on his lips. “So, no home?”

“No home.” The owner confirmed.

The man continued to scratch at your ears. An idea slowly pieced together in his head. “Do … do you think I could take her?”

You flinched, surprised by his offer.

“Well, that’s up to her now, isn't it?” The owner chucked. “You can try, but if she runs off then do not run back here to me to complain.”

The man wasn’t sure why he wished to take this random cat. Possibly to fill a void, fill a space in his vacant apartment. There was a draw he couldn’t quite place or understand. He glanced back down at you, while you stared up with wide eyes. “Would you like that? A home?” He asked with that lovely smile.

Home.

Oh, how you ached for the Dreaming, for Dream. Your wondrous Morpheus.

You had no where, and being free meant no home. And deep down, you craved it. You craved a home, but your only home you ever had was one you could go back to. At least, not now or maybe ever. You needed a new home. And maybe this insane encounter with this stranger could be that. Not permanently, but for just a few years. A few sweet years. You purred. The man smiled bright and wide, taking it as a ‘yes’. With a helping hand - and a warmth you haven’t felt in ages - he delicately scooped you up.

“Let’s get you home,” he whispered.

[bestiesenpai]

Chef Getou

Yes i have watched the bear thank you for asking (i have also worked in kitchens before please respect me), fem reader in the way you are referred to as miss and daughter. All the dishes & names of people are from actual michelin star restaurants around the world

10.3k words

Your hands shook with excitement, practically falling down as you tried to stop yourself from sprinting to the restaurant. You’d been called by the executive chef himself to work at his esteemed restaurant; he already had one Michelin star under his belt and he was hungry for another as his letter said.

“Ah, you must be Miss (Y/N).” The maître d’ greeted you at the door, her hair tied back in a tight bun. “Right this way.” Swiftly turning, she didn’t check back to see if you were following her. Rushing to keep pace with her, you looked around the dining area quickly. It was lit with undoubtedly expensive hanging lights with some well placed candles on the tables. Sparkling silverware and intricately folded napkins atop glazed stoneware sat on the tables and a light scent wafted through the air, one of baked goods and something fruity.

Going around a corner, you entered the kitchen, immediately nudged to the side and back against the wall. The kitchen was bright, sterile almost from how clean it was - but also heavy with tense silence. Every worker stood at attention around the perimeter of the kitchen, all of them focused on the chef before them, someone you instantly recognized.

“So, tell me again what this is.” Getou spoke, his voice so calm it raised goosebumps on your arm. His hair was tied back in a tight bun and gripped tightly in his fingers was a spoon, a scoop of sorbet sitting atop it. It came from the small glass dish to his side, decorated with a mint leaf and a small slice of lemon.

“It’s- it’s a coupe colonel…” The person standing before him looked tiny compared to his foreboding stature. They were cowering in their spot, fingers twitching at their side but unable to move even an inch away from his deadly stare.

“Really? Because it tastes like absolute shit to me!” Letting the spoon clatter loudly onto the counter, Getou picked up the glass dish and held it between them. “You mean to look me in the eye and tell me that this is the coupe colonel I asked for? Where is the flavor, the tartness? And did you make this vodka in the fucking toilet? Tell me, answer me seriously now.”

“I’m sorry sir, I truly am. I can remake-”

“Not in this kitchen.” Taking a staggeringly deep breath, he put the glass down and looked at it with disgust. “You’ll never make another coupe colonel in this kitchen. Now,” Letting his eyes wander the room, he briefly looked at you before looking in front of him, “Go make something else for tonight or consider yourself out.”

No one dared move until Getou did, no one dared take a breath too loud until he did; they were all waiting for his next decision. Standing straight up, he closed his eyes for a moment to let his heart steady before snapping his fingers twice. And just like that, the hold he had on everyone broke and they scattered like rats back to their stations.

“You.” Getou came right up to you, excusing the maître d’ with a wave of his hand.

“Hello Chef.” Nodding quickly, you found yourself unable to hold eye contact with him.

“Do you know what a coupe colonel is?”

“I do?” Your brow furrowed for a moment.

“What do you think of it?”

“Personally?” Raising a brow, Getou gave you a slight nod of confirmation. “Not enough vodka for me.”

“I won’t have you make it either then; I want my guests happy, not drunk from a little sorbet.” Getou cracked a smile, the only indication he had any emotion before his face settled back down. “I trust you know my name and I yours.”

“Yes Chef.” It was disappointing Getou didn’t say your name, it worried you that maybe he hadn’t remembered it at all and that he called you here as a joke.

“Good. Follow me.” He walked through the kitchen with ease, glancing over line cooks shoulders and offering quick tips. “It’s good to see you got the uniform, a few more should be delivered to your new place of residence soon.” Coming to a stop in front of a freshly cleaned station, Getou pat the counterspace. “This will be for you when you’re ready.”

“Ready?” You’d already studied the menu and practiced making the dishes, even going back to previous restaurants Getou had been at and trying those as well.

“Yes. I need to make sure my choice wasn’t a mistake.” Getou pointed back to the front of the kitchen. “You will be with me, you’ll take notes and maybe take over as the aboyeur for a time.”

“Okay Chef.” Nodding, you felt your shoulders sag a little as your hopes dashed away. You’d been called here to be a sous chef and impress Getou, make him happy that he invited you to be here.

The rest of prep time was spent trailing Getou, getting to know all the other staff and where everything was. The pastry chef was quiet, looked tired and was so dedicated to his craft he was always the first person there. Under him was a baker, a young boy surprisingly passionate about bread making. And standing off to the side was the poor chef glacier who had gotten scolded in front of everyone.

Going through the restaurant, it was surprising to see how much space there was. A station for entremetiers, grillardin, a butcher and more. Seeing how many stations there were gave you peace in a way, there would be so many people to learn from and possibly make friends with.

“Everyone, front.” Getou announced, taking long strides to stand at the head of the long countertop at the front of the kitchen. A chorus of yes’s followed and it took less than a minute and a half for everyone to be lined up and looking at him.

“As you hopefully saw, we have someone new joining us today.” He gave a brief motion to you and your mouth opened to introduce yourself, but no chance came. “This is (Y/N). She will be my new sous chef in due time, but for now she will be calling orders with me.” No one replied as he continued to speak about the dinner menu and what high brow guests to expect. Getou didn’t mince words, calling out certain stations that were not up to par or praising some that were.

“Alright that’s it. Get out of my sight and get ready for tonight.”

“Yes Chef.” Everyone spoke in unison, their feet carrying them just a bit faster to their stations. Looking at the clock on the wall, there was only five minutes before service started. Getou was writing things down on a notepad, crossing lines out on a guest list and writing down food substitutions for a few stations.

“Three, two, one. It’s time.” Getou announced, clapping his hands loudly. Everything happened all at once: the sound of searing meat, sauce cooking in a pan, bottles of wine being uncorked and glasses already being run out to guests. Spotting your somewhat nervous expression, Getou nudged you. “Try to keep up, okay?”

“Chef.” Someone walked up, holding out a small dish of gazpacho.

“Delicious, add a touch more goat cheese and a dash of salt.”

“Yes Chef, thank you.” And away they were, going back into the fray.

“Monkfish filet for tables one and five. Table two has specifically ordered the lobster to be, in his words, ‘smothered in brown butter atop a smattering of potatoes and with a bottle of the finest cabernet sauvignon the sommelier has to offer’.”

“Red? Are you serious?” The sommelier, an older gentleman that you’d learned was named Guillaume, dramatically slumped over. “I have told him time and again- no, I will go out and show him.” Without another word, Guillaume left for the dining room with a bottle of white wine in hand.

“Don’t be too harsh!” Getou’s words trailed after him with a light laugh.

“Those two have history?”

“Yeah, it’s his son.” Laughing to himself, Getou flicked his chin over to the entremetier. “Go over there and help, it appears they’ve forgotten what a monkfish is.”

“Yes Chef.” Rushing over, you quickly introduced yourself before helping slice the fish and laying it in the pan, staying to ensure it cooked right. You dared not glance over your shoulder to see if Getou was watching you, if he was you wanted to impress him with your focus.

“Chef.” The plate was presented to Getou in just a few minutes, delivered directly from you. He looked over it while still calling out orders and quirked his head.

“Why are the vegetables like that?” Fishing a spoon from his apron, Getou gave you a glance. “I wrote it to be creamy, does this look creamy to you?” Analyzing the spoonful he held up, you thought they looked fine. Your lack of answer frustrated Getou and he ate it himself.

“Call the others over.” He said, voice low and face disparaging. Collecting the people in question, you stood before him. “Tell me why you think this is acceptable?” He’d taken a bite of the monkfish and spat it out almost immediately.

“We measured the internal temperature and did everything the exact same way as the trial run.” A line cook spoke up.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Giving you a pointed look, he asked again. “(Y/N). Why do you think this is acceptable? The texture of the fish is appalling, like chewing on a tire. And these vegetables are underdone to hell yet somehow you’ve managed to burn them and try to cover up the mess with the sauce.”

“My apologies Chef, I should have watched more closely.”

“Have you ever cooked monkfish?”

“Yes.”

“And did I not request you personally to come work here?”

“You did.” His words were cold, calculated. Humiliation started to waft over you, being scolded like this especially in front of the line cooks you’d helped.

“So then why have you decided to disappoint me on your first day here?” Shoving the spoon back in his apron, Getou scoffed at the plate, a silent demand for it be taken away. “Remake it immediately.”

The line cooks left hastily, not sparing you a glance lest they be scolded as well. You were left to stand there alone, head cast down and heart beating hard. The cacophony all around you deafened for a moment as you sank into the feelings swirling around you.

“Chef, do you think the beginning of dinner service is an appropriate time to sulk?” Getou quipped, snapping near your ear before barking out an order.

“Sorry Chef.” Your apology went unnoticed, Getou had already moved onto something else. Choking down the knot in your throat, you forced yourself to continue with service. Getou was right, you couldn’t let your feelings get the best of you so quickly.

“Hands!” You cried out ten minutes later as Getou went on a bathroom break. Dishes were leaving the kitchen quickly and you could faintly hear the chatter in the dining room with the sommeliers making lively conversation about their favorite picks for the night.

“Ice cream, please!” There was no way you would send out a subpar dish, especially not after what Getou had said earlier. It was presented before you by the same chef from earlier, their ego still bruised from the coupe colonel.

“I’ve been working on this for a bit, it’s a creamy chocolate and salted butter caramel atop a peanut ice cream.” Nodding along to their words, you took a bite. It was indeed all that they had explained and you smiled slightly.

“This is delicious, send it out.” Giving them a nod, you watched the chef walk away with a smile of their own.

“Delicious?” Getou’s voice sounded from behind you, his frame coming into your peripheral vision. “Let’s see if you’re correct.” Having a taste for himself, Getou’s face held no emotion. “Tasty, yes. Mind blowing? No. The guests will like it well enough though I suppose.” Taking his list back from you, Getou resumed control of the kitchen.

“Nice work everyone.” He announced when dinner was over. There wasn’t a hair out of place on his head and although there were a few stains on his jacket, Getou looked the same as when you walked in.

“Thank you Chef.” Responding in kind, everyone began to pack up, clean their stations or begin prep for the next day.

“(Y/N).” Getou grabbed the back of your jacket, stopping you from going to help.

“Yes?” By the tone in his voice you were sure his next words wouldn’t be particularly positive. Flicking his chin, he had you follow him out into the dining area where the servers were cleaning up. Leaning against a wall near the restrooms, he let his hair down and ran a hand through the dark strands.

“What do you think of your first day here? Is it everything you dreamt of, working for me?” Getou looked at you with a neutral face, as if he could wait all day for whatever answer you had to give him and he still wouldn’t like it.

“I…think it went well.” Taking a deep breath to study yourself, you noticed the way Getou glanced away for a few seconds.

“Well? If you would like to think that way you can.”

“What do you mean?”

“I expected more from you.” You knew you didn’t want to hear his answer, knew it would be something that would hurt your feelings, knew he was disappointed in you - and yet you still asked.

“I-I’m sorry but-” He silenced you with a raise of his calloused hand, a few burn marks and knife knicks on his palm.

“How could you let the monkfish possibly get to that state? You should have been more on top of the temperature and controlled it better. And the vegetables - were you playing around with me? Think you could get one over on me, maybe trick me? I know you can cook a better piece of fucking broccoli than that.”

“Chef, I swear that wasn’t my intention.”

“And that goddamn ice cream? Anyone with a functioning palate could tell the chocolate was much too rich and the ice cream was basically chunky peanut butter.”

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I need you to be focused and actually taste the dishes, put some thought into them and consider for a moment that if you were paying this much to dine here, would you want to be served something as subpar as what you tried to send out tonight?”

“Y-you’re right.” Fighting back embarrassed tears was the only thing you could focus on now. You kept your eyes cast to the floor, hardly taking Getou into your peripheral at all.

“Go home.” Sensing your upset mood, Getou took a step back and motioned away.

“What?” This made you look up at him with wide, scared eyes. He couldn’t be firing you already, could he?

“Your shift is over. Go home, think about today and what you can do differently tomorrow. I expect you here a bit early, we’ll go over some basics.” Taking a step to leave, Getou stopped himself. “And grow a thicker skin, will you?” With those parting words, Getou left you all alone to lean against the wall and try to collect yourself.

Driving off into the night, you waited until you were a good few blocks away before letting out a wail. Pulling over and letting the tears fall down your face and into your lap, you let go of the emotions that had welled up. Getou had told you to grow a thicker skin and you would in due time but for now this was all you wanted to do.

Eventually your crying ran out and you made it home emotionally drained and hungry. Hardly having energy to take a shower, making proper food was the last thing on your mind and your hand landed on the first thing in the cupboard: a styrofoam cup of instant noodles. Setting the pot to boil, you answered a few text messages and tried to forget about the day. Eating the noodles in a haste, you collapsed into bed in a sorry huff, letting sleep take you quickly.

Was it as difficult for the other staff to return to Getou day after day? To be subjected to his painfully neutral face and demanding voice. It seemed the only people he could even feasibly stand were the pastry chef and the sommelier, but maybe that was because both of them were older and earned their respect from Getou long ago. The glacier chef had been fired and a new one was already in their place, making a perfect coupe colonel for Getou.

You fared no better than the others, what with adjusting to a new city and having to deal with a boss that wanted such a high degree of excellence from everyone you feared it would break you. He said he wanted better from you and every day you tried to do that for him but it wasn’t enough.

“This plating on the sea bream tartare, do it over.”

“Where’s the pear on this goat cheese tartellete? You can’t have seriously forgotten.”

“Nice try (Y/N), but this pasta is far past al dente.”

Every day it was something new, something that you missed and messed up on and needed to correct. This torment lasted a week and there seemed to be no reprieve, the only indication it was getting better was when he went down from scolding you three times to two times a shift. His word choices hadn’t gotten better but they had at least eased up.

“What’re you doing here?” Coming in through the back entrance Getou was surprised to see you tucked behind a corner of the kitchen, sitting at a small table peeling potatoes from a shipment received a day ago.

“I asked the prep cooks if I could do this for them.” Taking a brief pause, you looked behind you towards the rest of the kitchen. “I just…need a break, that’s all.” Keeping quiet, Getou nodded and said nothing more, walking further into the restaurant himself. Resuming your work in silence didn’t last long, your phone interrupting you with its incessant buzzing.

“Hello?” Putting the phone on speaker, you were confused as to why your parents would be calling you now when their timezone was a few hours behind yours.

“Sweetie, you’ll never guess what we have to tell you.” Your father started, a light buzz of people behind him.

“What is it?”

“We’re here!” Both your parents said in unison, your mother clapping her hands excitedly. “I know you said not to visit you just yet but this is such an amazing opportunity for you, we couldn’t bear the wait any longer!”

“I’ve hardly been gone three weeks.” Resting your head on the table, you let out a soft sigh. “I don’t know if tonight is a good night for you guys to come.” Or any night, really.

“Nonsense, we’ll be there right as dinner service starts! Besides, this was the only time we could manage to get a dang reservation!” Chuckling to himself, your father recounted the hassle it was to try and line everything up.

“We look forward to seeing you tonight.” Nearly breaking your neck from turning so fast, your jaw fell in shock at seeing Getou standing off to the side with his hair not tied or his jacket done up.

“Honey, is that who we think it is?” Your mother whispered excitedly.

“Y-yes, it is!” Your ears were burning, scalding even as Getou laughed behind his hand. You tried to rush and turn off speakerphone before she said anything damning but Getou beat you to it and picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Chef Getou at your service. Once again, I look forward to having you here tonight and I promise it will be a night you won’t forget.” Excited murmurs broke out between your parents while you looked on in shock.

“Th-thank you so much for this, Chef! And for hiring our daughter as well, she has always been a big fan of yours and-”

“Okay, love you both bye!” Now you were desperate to turn the phone off. Slamming it face down on the table, you thought about taking an eye out with the peeler. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Getou could hardly contain his amused look. “Are they allergic to anything?”

“Nothing.” Peeking out from the corner of your eye, you watched Getou take out a notebook from his back pocket.

“Perfect. Quail filet with fried duck liver, orange, sherry vinegar, dried fruits and a nut crumble. I wasn’t planning on pushing this out for another few weeks but two of the restaurant's arguably most important guests will be here tonight.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” You hadn’t the heart to say that your parents weren’t the most high brow when it came to their dining choices. This was the fanciest restaurant they would be in their whole life and no way would they know how to react to such an elaborate meal.

“Of course I do, they’re your parents after all. They’re spending time and money just to come and see you, see how well you’re doing and all your hard work. It’d be a disservice to them to give any less than my best.” Getou wasn’t one to give touches of reassurance to his staff but he broke the rule for you, giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “And it’s been too long since I’ve had parents to impress, I need to make sure I still got it.”

“Where are your parents?” Coming to a stand, you regretted it when Getou froze for a second.

“They passed away a long time ago when I was a teenager.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” You wanted to return the touch on the shoulder that he’d just given you but you didn’t want to risk it and push him away by being too forward.

“Don’t be, they’re in the family plot back home and I made a name for myself just like I promised them I would. They’ve funded my entire career, from my first day of culinary school all the way to now.” Taking a sharp inhale and exhale through his nose, Getou clapped his hands and turned around. “Enough about that though, we have some prep to do.”

When you were this early to the kitchen, it showed how quiet it could be; with just as much chaos and yelling there could be a time where you could hear a pin drop and know exactly where it fell. Seasoning the liver and watching Getou cut the quail out of the corner of your eye felt serene, almost like you could fall asleep to the atmosphere.

Getous face held no expression but there was a noticeable relaxation to his brows and his shoulders were lower than they usually were. He himself looked content standing over the cutting board with a look in his eyes that said there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“So, what have you told your parents about this job?” Breaking the silence, the two of you made eye contact.

“I told them it’s going great.” Nodding to yourself, there were countless times you had told them parts of the truth about how your day went while fighting back tears of frustration, numerous days you had to splash your face with cold water and calm down before video calling them and lying through your teeth.

“Makes sense. You wouldn’t want to let them know how much of a piece of shit I am.” A bark of laughter came from Getous chest tinged with bitterness.

“No you- you’re not-”

“Yes I am, you don’t have to lie to me.” Drawing out a few of the words, Getou put down his knife and turned to you. “I know I’m strict and demanding and never have anything nice to say to anyone or about the food they make. I’ve made people cry, too many to count; and I know I’ve made you cry too.”

Setting your knife down as well, you worried your lip. What could you say to that? He was right, there were plenty of nights you went to sleep hoping that he wouldn’t show up the next day or that he would get an offer from a restaurant across the world. And he was more than right about making you cry.

“I…” Struggling to find the words, you stared at the quail. “You’re right about it, all of it-” he cut you off with another bitter laugh, “but I can understand it?” Shrinking under his peculiar stare, you kept going. “You went to the best culinary schools in the world, trained under the best chefs and now you have a star - aiming for another one at that. All of that time, all of that effort, I can understand why you’re so…intense about everything.”

“Intense.” Getou repeated that word, a smirk on his face. “I guess that’s one way to put it, huh?”

“I guess.” Unsure of what else to say, you let silence fall over the kitchen again. As the minutes ticked by more people started to come in and the familiar noise of the kitchen was returning.

“(Y/N).” Done with his work, Getou took a step away and looked around, seeing the familiar faces of the staff and putting his hard exterior back on. “Thanks for being honest in such a…nice way.” Tilting his head and giving you a wink, Getou was gone and walking away with not only the quail but the liver too.

Your nerves were starting to get the better of you as dinner service started to approach. Your parents were coming with such high expectations of you and the restaurant, you didn’t dare want to let them down and make them think you had to come back home.

“(Y/N).” Getou spoke to you after nearly forty-five minutes of ignoring you, not looking your way or truly speaking to you. “When your parents get here, I want you to dine with them.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind being back here.”

“Have you yourself ever eaten at one of my restaurants?”

“No.”

“Then this is the perfect night to do so. I told the maître d’ to let your parents in early so they could see the place before it got all busy.” The sudden kindness from Getou was taking you back, knocking you off your feet and making you question if he’d taken something to change his mood.

“You’re being too kind.” Shaking your head lightly, you refused to believe such a thing.

“And Guillaume will pull out the best wine we have - they do like wine, don’t they?”

“I suppose.” Truth be told, you usually found a can of beer in your fathers hand and maybe a cocktail for your mother.

“Jeez, do you know anything?” Getou teased, laughing at your glare. Seeing the mask he had on slip away for a moment, allowing you to see that he did have feelings other than discontent for his fellow man, was nice. It made a gentle bloom spring from your chest and settle warmly into your mind.

“Miss (Y/N), it appears they’re here.” With a light tap to your shoulder, the maître d’ went to open the door of the restaurant.

“There she is!” Your parents entered in their best attire, your mother holding a gift bag in the crook of her elbow. You rushed to them, hugging and exchanging elated hellos.

“What’s this?” Attempting to reach for the bag, your mother swatted your hand away and motioned to the man you’d just left behind you.

“Sshh, not for you.” She muttered quietly, watching Getou stride over with his hands behind his back.

“Ma’am.” Outstretching a hand, Getou shook your mothers gently and kissed the back of it. “Sir.” Turning to your father, he shook his hand as well before turning and motioning to the dining room. “Welcome to my humble establishment.”

“Thank you for having us!” Your mother jumped in, holding the gift bag out to Getou. “We brought you something for giving our daughter an opportunity here. It means the world to us; all of us.” She snuck a glance over to you, remembering clear as day when you got the invitation.

“What’s this?” Getou took it gingerly, also giving you a glance as if you had any idea what it was. “Oh.” Pulling the contents out of the bag, his brows rose high in surprise when it wasn’t the usual bottle of scotch he received but instead a candy bouquet, something he could find in the grocery store.

“Oh my god.” Slapping a hand over your mouth to stifle your loud gasp, you looked between the two of them in horror. How could she give Getou this of all things?

“(Y/N) loves these, we always get her one for her birthday and she eats them up within a day!” Giving your shoulder a nudge, your father patted Getou on the arm. “Maybe you’ll be more patient than her, hm?”

“I-I’m so sorry.” Your knees were on the edge of buckling.

“I…” Getou looked over the candy, some he hadn’t eaten in years. “I love this, thank you.” Your jaw dropped open at his admission and if you looked just right you could see a slight glisten to his eyes. “Here, I’ll have the maître d’ put this in my office and I’ll give you a tour.”

It all happened so quickly: Getou escorting your parents around - explaining the inspiration behind the design and construction of the restaurant - showing them his notebook and what he had planned for future menu items. He even opened the door to the kitchen and showed them inside, proudly stating that you stood right by his side and helped him call out orders.

The restaurant opened soon after and you were seated at the best table in the house with three glasses of wine poured after Guillaume and your parents had a lengthy and passionate discussion about the best vineyards and types of grapes. Starting with an iberico ham salad as an appetizer, you made pleasant conversation, noise that mixed in with the rest of the dining room.

“Here we are folks, the main course.” Getou of course had to be the one to present it to you all, nearly making the whole dining room turn and watch as it was laid out before you. “As promised, fileted quail served as a rouleau with fried duck liver, orange, sherry vinegar dried fruits and a nut crumble.”

“Oh my.” Staring in awe, your mother didn’t move an inch. Your father, ever eager, took his phone out and snapped multiple pictures, even telling you to smile as he got a quick few of you.

“Thank you Chef.” You were quick to fill in the silence seeing as your parents were too busy.

“Enjoy, please.” Giving you a grin, Getou slinked away to the kitchen.

“Honey, what part of this did you work on?” Done with his phone, your dad waved his fork at the plate.

“I helped with the liver and a few other things.”

“Well this looks much too fancy to eat but I wouldn’t want your hard work going to waste.” You hardly blinked, watching your parents take their first few bites of the food. Maybe it’d be too complicated for them or the flavors wouldn’t mix well in their mouths, or maybe they’d force themselves to stuff it down and then complain about it later.

“Dear, this is amazing.” Reaching across the table for your hand, your mother grasped it tightly. “We are so proud of you.”

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, words of adoration and appreciation never too far from your parents' mouths. They loved any and everything they set their eyes on, even gushing about the hand soap in the bathroom. Dessert was crème brûlée with peach ragout and lemon thyme ice cream, the patissier even bringing it out himself.

As dinner ended, Getou gave your parents one last goodbye, even indulging your father in taking a picture with all of you. Despite Getou saying there would be no rush, you promised to come back quickly after walking your parents out to the car they’d rented.

“I feel like we’ve said it a thousand times but truly, we are so proud of you (Y/N).” Both of them had tears in their eyes, a flair for the dramatics in both of them. Both of them launched into small speeches about watching you grow up and rooting for you every step of the way.

“Thank you guys, really.” Even your eyes had become a little misty and you had to cut them off or you’d be there all night. Bidding them a goodbye and vowing to let them into your apartment, you went back to the restaurant with your head held high.

Coming back to the kitchen, it was a surprise to see Getou not at his usual position. Looking around and not seeing his tall frame anywhere, you knew he must be in his office. Coming around a corner, there he was sitting in his chair, gnawing away at a chocolate bar.

“Caught me.” He didn’t try to hide it at all, letting his mouth be covered in the sweet stuff.

“I’m surprised to see you actually eating that.”

“What, you think I’d throw it away?”

“Yeah, actually.” You had a vision of him tossing the whole bouquet into the dumpster out back and laughing at your parents' stupidity.

“You think just ‘cause I have a star I can’t eat commercial candy?” Giving you a teasing petulant look, Getou pointed to a Twix bar with chocolate coated fingers. “I’ll have you know, this is my favorite candy in the world.” Letting a beat of silence go, he huffed and shook his head. “It’s not all black forest cherry tarts and lobster thermidors for me.”

“Of course, of course! My mistake!” Giggling under your breath, you held your hands up in mock surrender. “I wanted to come by and thank you for tonight, truly. My parents will definitely not be forgetting it.”

“You’re welcome.” He says it sincerely and you can tell in his eyes he wishes he could do the same for his. “It’s always a treat having family here.” The two of you shared a look, one tinged with slowly growing warmth and what felt like could be a friendship of sorts - or at least a more positive relationship in general, maybe one where he respected you in the kitchen like he did with Guillaume and the patissier.

“I should…go back and help. Make sure everything is good.” You said it slowly, not wanting to leave whatever this was but having a sense of duty to the kitchen. Getou nodded, offering you a quiet ‘see you soon’ before you walked away.

The next few days were surreal, almost like the past few weeks hadn’t happened. You and your parents got to look around the new city you were in, comparing all the food you ate to Getou’s. He also started treating you better, still tough and a little sharp tongued, but gentler. Instead of yelling at you, calling you a half-baked idiot or dumping a dish you’d been trying to perfect into the trash, he offered more advice. Telling you tips and tricks to help make a dish come out the same way every time, helping you sharpen your knives and letting you ask all the questions you wanted.

Not wanting to be accused of favoritism, Getou offered more advice to the chefs as well; though their number of questions came with a limit. He still yelled at someone nearly every shift but no longer was there someone crying in the walk-in that you had to maneuver around.

“What’s going on?” You whispered to a prep cook. You’d gotten the message to come early with uniforms freshly pressed, just as everyone else had.

“We have a visitor. I saw him in the dining room.” They whispered back. Nodding wordlessly, you walked to your station, idly wiping it down as you waited for something to happen. Getou had finally allowed you to go to it a few days ago, saying you were ready to start your real work now.

“Everyone, front. Now.” Getou’s voice boomed much louder than usual and it made you jump, but you wasted no time in following the order. Lining up shoulder to shoulder, everyone peered at the man standing next to Getou with a tall white hat on. Getou owned one as well but he never wore it, claiming he didn’t want it to slip off his head and into someone's soup.

“Good evening. Thank you for coming early.” Getou started, his hands behind his back. “I’m not going to waste time, so let me introduce you to someone most of you probably know already: Nicolas Conraux.” A quick few claps sounded from most of the staff, only some of you not moving. “And for those that don’t,” Getou sent a look to you, “this is the man that trained me and got me to my first star.”

Your eyes widened upon hearing that; this man was responsible for Getou, for making him the way he is in the kitchen. The memories came back to you, of small times Getou opened up about his past working under a chef who pushed him so hard to be better than he was that it made Getou puke on one occasion. This man’s name would forever be attached to Getou and now here he was right in front of you.

“I hope my presence won’t disturb you too much, but I was eager to see how my protégé was doing. He also sent a few emails regarding some worries he had for getting a second star, so I want to help in any way I can.” A heavy French accent hung over his words forcing you to focus on them closely.

“But just because he’s offered his help doesn't mean you can all slack off or take it easy, not even for a second. Be more meticulous, more precise with what you’re doing. Think twice before sending a dish out and if any dish comes back…” Trailing off, Getou gave you all one of the scariest looks you’d ever seen. After a debrief of how the evening was to go, you broke off back to your stations.

This was the first time since you’d gotten here that you wished you weren’t at your station. It was in the direct line of sight of Getou and Nicolas, the latter of whom had his eyes set intently on you. Taking a deep breath, you ignored his gaze in favor of preparing for the evening.

Tonight should be easy, you mused to yourself; the menu was a familiar one brought back due to popular demand, Texel lamb shoulder with sweet potato and vegetable chips and a tenderloin as well with crispy oyster mushrooms. Getting to work on the lamb, you were able to ignore Nicolas until he went to watch someone else. Letting out a breath at his departure you weren’t able to relax long with Getou announcing dinner would be starting in five minutes.

Counting down the seconds as usual, once the clock struck it felt like a whole different atmosphere. The kitchen was a bit lively again, nowhere near the level of volume it usually was, but it wasn’t painfully quiet anymore either. You felt comfortable calling out to the others and walking around, tasting the harissa for the lamb and wincing at the strong flavor.

“Why are you doing that?” A familiar accent came into your ear and you couldn’t even turn your shoulder to look at Nicolas. He was almost leering at the way you plated the first order of lamb for the night.

“E-excuse me.” Taken aback by his sudden arrival as well as his closeness, you shuffled a few inches from him.

“Answer me.” He pressed, immediately filling the space again.

“This is how Getou and I planned it, we discussed it to-”

“It’s lacking.” Cutting you off sharply, Nicolas called Getou over. “What do you think?” Getou was caught in a hard spot now, looking between the two of you and the plate. You were doing exactly as the two of you had planned but now with Nicolas’ critical eye, Getou was starting to see things differently.

“Perhaps it is lacking.” He agreed, nodding and avoiding your surprised face. “How should we change it, (Y/N)?”

“Don’t ask her.” A brief roll of his eyes and a snap of his fingers and Nicolas was taking the plate from you and grabbing a new one. “She’s already got one idea in her head, she’ll just try to do it again.”

“Of course.” Getou had turned into a complete yes man in front of you. Both of you watched Nicolas replate the dish, adding only a few mild changes that you knew no one would notice.

“There, now it is perfect.” Letting you get a once over of it, Nicolas sent it out of the kitchen. “I hope you took note.” And then he walked away, going to lean over someone else's shoulder.

“What was that?” You hissed, finally catching Getous eye.

“He was right.” That was the only answer he gave you before Getou left you as well. Biting back an annoyed noise, you set to work on the next plate, trying to remember what Nicolas had just done.

By the middle of dinner you were ready to leave the kitchen. It felt like Nicolas took even more offense at the things you did than Getou did, finding a reason to come up to you at every step of your process and correct it. He even commented on the way you stirred a ladle for soup, saying that you would disrupt the flavor profile.

Getou was no help either; he either sat back and watched or actively participated, sometimes spewing a few harsh words your way. You thought you were done hearing him say you might cut it better as a window cleaner or him wondering aloud whether you really knew how to cook some simple carrots.

“(Y/N), this is awful.” You’d come up to the table with a plate of steak tartare appetizers. Spending a bit more time on it than you usually did just to make sure it was made to perfection, hearing those words and watching Nicolas spit it out into a napkin - it threatened to bring angry tears to your eyes.

“Please, you can’t be serious!” Getting fed up, you slapped a hand onto the metal table. “You’ve had nothing good to say about any of the dishes I’ve prepared!”

“That’s because they’re all shit.” Shrugging your words off like they were nothing, Nicolas pushed the plate back to you. “Try again, though I think with your skill level it might be too difficult.”

“Oh fuck you!” In your anger, you pushed the plate back and made it flip over. Getou made a surprised noise and was about to scold you when you turned to him. “And you! I thought things had changed with you, you weren’t going to be such an asshole anymore but I guess I was wrong.”

“(Y/N), stop it.” Getou squared his shoulders. “This isn’t appropriate.”

“But telling me I should see if the local morgue was hiring because that’s the only people that won’t get sick from my food? That’s appropriate?” All of the harsh comments and jabs that had been made at you this night came flooding to the forefront of your mind. You’d tried to ignore it, push it deep down and deal with it when you got home, but that was no use. Hot, angry tears burned at your lash line begging to be set free.

“You want to know why I say those things?” Now Getou was at the same level of emotion as you, his face getting flush. “Because I want you gone.” That was what did it, that is what made the first tear fall. “It was a mistake to fucking invite you here when all you’ve done is cost me time and money. I should have left you in that insignificant little restaurant back in your insignificant little hometown. You’d do better work scrubbing the grease traps there.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You couldn’t be bothered to wipe at the tears now free falling, couldn’t be bothered to care about who saw what now. Ripping off your white jacket and flinging it onto the counter, you turned away from Getou and all but ran off. Quickly grabbing your things, you didn’t spare a single glance back as you left through the backdoor and raced to your car.

Speeding off before anyone could try and follow you, you first stopped at a park to cry. It was cold without your chef's jacket on, it made you feel bare to the world. Now anyone could see that you, in fact, could not cut it working under Getou. That you failed, weren’t good enough and weren’t strong enough to push through.

An unknown number called you and you let it go to voicemail. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d answer the phone now, not when your eyes were puffy, nose stuffed up and voice hoarse from crying. Even a slight headache started to develop, one which forced you to now drive home.

Dragging your feet and kicking the door closed, you slumped against it and slid down to the floor. Letting your knife case fall to the wayside, you dug your phone out and finally listened to the voicemail.

H-hey…it’s me, Getou. Just the sound of his voice made you roll your eyes.

Things got really heated just now and I want to- fuck, uhm - I want to apologize. I’m your boss I shouldn’t be saying those things to you and- and especially not to someone I’ve come to care about. I want to apologize in person, (Y/N), I really do, you deserve that much at least.

“What if I don’t want to?” You mumbled to yourself, but Getou quickly answered.

I understand if you don’t want to, if you’d rather never see me again for the rest of your life…that’s completely fine. Just let one of the other chefs know and I’ll make sure your final check is posted as soon as possible.

It had gone eerily quiet in the voicemail making you check to see if he’d forgotten to end the call.

Just please…call me, okay? Even if it’s just to curse at me.

Only after those words did the voicemail finally stop, the true silence of your apartment taking over. Your fingers hovered over the delete button, wanting nothing more than to be done with Getou and his ever changing attitude. But you couldn’t find it in you and instead shoved your phone in your pocket and got up, changing out of your uniform and into comfier clothes.

A few hours later, after decompressing and having a meal where no one could judge your plating, your mood was lifting. More tears had fallen during that time and the struggling realization that you’d have to tell your parents sooner or later was in the back of your mind. But for now, you decided to slip on some shoes and head out to treat yourself to a sweet treat.

Walking down the block, you looked at the time. Dinner service had been over for almost forty-five minutes and a couple other chefs messaged you, telling you they’d miss you badly if you decided to never return. Worrying your lip, you wondered if you would ever return, if maybe you could find it in you to push away Getou’s disrespectful words and make him beg for forgiveness.

Coming to an ice cream shop, your hand bumped into someone else's as you reached for the door handle. A quick sorry died on your tongue upon seeing who it was, his long hair and dark circles unmistakable. He was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, a stark contrast to the bright white jacket he usually sported.

“After you.” Getou mumbled, opening the door. Standing still for just a moment, you took the opportunity and stepped in.

“Following me?” You couldn’t help but ask, standing in line with him beside you. He didn’t say anything, opting to read the menu instead. It was unclear whether that made you more mad or it helped that he was giving you space.

“What flavor are you getting?” He replied instead, glancing tentatively at you.

“Probably cookie dough.” Whispering back, you went through the line, fishing out your wallet when it was time to pay.

“She’s with me.” Getou told the cashier, already sliding some cash across the counter. Rolling your eyes, you took a step back; if he wanted to spend money on you in hopes of winning you back, so be it.

“I don’t know if I’m coming back.” The two of you had decided to take a walk, with you knowing he wouldn’t leave you alone otherwise. These were the first words you’d said to him since starting the idle stroll.

“I-I understand.” You didn’t miss the sudden falter in his steps. Sighing heavily, Getou took a bite out of his ice cream and once again you saw with him chocolate smeared across his face. “I would do the same too if I were you.”

“Why are you such a fucking jerk?” Stopping at a crosswalk, you turned to look at him. Under the light of a street lamp and the setting sun, you could almost mistake him as looking rather handsome.

“I don’t mean to be.” He tried to take a step forward but you refused to move.

“Really? Because everything you say seems rather intentional.” The grip you had on your ice cream cone threatened to break it into pieces.

“I know.” Hanging his head low in shame, Getou faced you properly. “I’m the last person anyone would want to work with in the kitchen, even for just a day. Hell, I don’t really have a lot of friends outside the kitchen either. I can hardly hold a conversation if it’s not about food, I glare at everyone so hard I already have premature wrinkles. And probably worst of all, I make pretty girls cry.” As the last words left his mouth Getou looked up at you through his lashes, a grimace across his face.

The urge to slap him in the face made you flex your fingers. How dare he send you such a pitiful expression when he had looked upon you with utter disgust just a few hours ago? He called you pretty and as much as it made you want to grin, it also felt like he was trying to compliment you to get out of this situation.

“If you think I’m so pretty then why do you do it?” You mumbled, leaving him to cross the road. Getou’s footsteps were behind you, a few feet away as he mulled over your words. He didn’t fully catch up with you until you made it to the edge of a park, a small green space that was starting to empty out.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Rolling your eyes heavily, you pushed forward.

“Yes, okay?!” Getou’s irritation grew in a flash, making him grab your arm. The motion flung your ice cream out of your hand and he threw his down in tandem. “What am I supposed to say? You want me to admit the reason I told you I wanted you gone is because I realized I had fallen for you?” His face became awash with a red blush both from anger at himself and embarrassment.

“That- that your stupid, pretty little face and the way you smile and the way you laugh with the other chefs made me jealous? I want you to laugh and smile that way with me but all I can manage to do is humiliate and degrade you, make you feel like shit whenever we’re together!”

“And your food is fucking amazing, by the way.” Running a rough hand through his hair, Getou groaned. “I loved it, still do. You’re so talented it hurts me.”

“Why lie to me like that?” The grip he had on your arm was loosening but you could still feel his racing pulse.

“Because if I told you it was bad then maybe you’d come to me for help. Maybe you’d talk to me more and I could impress you with what I knew and then maybe…maybe it would lead to something else.” Fully dropping your arm in defeat, Getou slapped a hand over his face and leaned his head up to the sky. “Maybe I could find out what it feels like to hold your hand, to have you smile at me so brightly and tell me I’m doing a good job and I’m more than just some good chef that’s a grade A asshole.”

A heavy silence hung between you, the weight of all of Getou’s words weighing down the air around you. It felt difficult to breathe but somehow, you managed.

“Amazing.” You whispered, making Getou crack an eye open to look at you.

“Huh?”

“You’re an amazing chef.” Dropping his head back down, Getou stared at you with mild confusion on his face. “You have a Michelin star and an incredible eye for detail and flavor. Don’t get me wrong, you’re absolutely awful to be around and sometimes your presence makes me want to-”

“Okay.” He interjected, a tiny grin on his face betraying him. “I get it, I’m awful.”

“And I would love to learn from you.”

“Seriously?” Raising his brows in shock, Getou was surprised you would even acknowledge that part of what he said.

“Yes.” Your face portrayed no lie, no intention of changing your mind just to hurt him. “You think I’d want to pass up on an opportunity like that from someone I’ve admired for so long?”

Getou swallowed thickly. He had an inkling that you were a fan, from your parents words and from how you were around him, but you finally said it out loud. And maybe admiration could be something more. It made his heart swell hopefully, stupidly. He couldn’t even think of trying to stamp it down.

“When would you like to learn?” He spoke slowly, words coming out carefully as his eyes watched your face, his dumb little heart deflating a bit at the sudden downturn of your lips.

“I don’t know.” Rubbing the back of your neck, you shifted awkwardly on your feet. There was a bench behind you and you motioned for Getou to sit down. “I don’t know if it’d be a good idea for me to come back.”

“Wh- no it is, it is.” Gripping the back of the bench, Getou turned to you with his mouth hanging slightly. “It’ll be better, I swear. I’ll be better.”

“But how long will that last? Until you get mad again and snap at me?” You itched to play with the fraying patch of fabric on his sweats, to give your hands something to do other than twist and turn within themselves.

“I won’t, never again.”

“How long will Nicolas be at the restaurant?” Raising a brow at Getou, you watched his mind work. He was uptight on a good day and with Nicolas’ presence it only made it worse. The strict, military-like regime he had only became tighter and it choked the life out of you.

“A week.” Getou hung his head in shame, knowing he wouldn’t see you again any time soon. “But (Y/N), I swear on my life. Every fiber of my being. I won’t let him talk to you like that anymore; I don’t care if he’s my mentor or not.”

Contemplating Getou’s words, you weighed your options in your head. You had faith that Getou could change his ways, but so suddenly? And with the pressure of Nicolas behind him? Any hope of him being even slightly different during this week was dashed out of your mind. But looking up at him, his worry written all over his face and in the way he chewed his lip, it sparked something in you.

“Okay, I’ll think about it.” Your quiet utterance of the words had Getou leaning back dramatically with the weight of the world off his shoulders. He made a noise from his chest, something akin to a groan and a holler. Taking a few breaths, he sat up and looked at you.

“Yes, please do.” It was then that you noticed, as a breeze rushed past, that it had gotten quite late out. The sky was considerably darker and you could just barely make out some stars between the glaring lights of street lamps.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Getou was sliding off the bench and nudging you to stand as well. Walking at a slower pace with him at your side, you took a few turns and made it back to your apartment with no trouble.

“Home sweet home.” You motioned to the building, gradually coming to a stop.

“It’s funny how close we live to each other.” Getou mused, hooking his thumb behind him. “I’m 3 blocks down and to the right.”

“Well neighbor, have a good night.” Feeling emboldened by the cover of darkness, you reach out and pat Getou’s shoulder, letting your hand linger for a moment before sliding off.

“Good night.” Giving you a small wave, Getou waited until you were safely in your apartment before turning and leaving himself.

4:45pm. The clock's large red numbers stared back at Getou. He was waiting not so patiently at the door for your arrival. He knew you came in at about 4:30 and after the conversation the two of you had had last night he hoped you’d be a bit earlier than that.

“Chef!” Someone called for him and Getou’s legs twitched instinctively to go help, but he remained in his spot.

“Chef!” They called again and Getou groaned. 4:46pm, the clock stared back at him. He didn’t want to move, not even a centimeter. But there were more pressing matters to attend to than waiting for you like a puppy.

“Coming!” He yelled back and drug his feet away. He was a fool to expect you to come back so soon after what happened, and although you said you’d think about it, it wasn’t a definitive yes to coming back.

For the next 15 minutes Getou tried to sneak looks at the door whenever he could, hoping and praying you’d waltz right in. He had dry cleaned your jacket that you’d thrown off, the stain from the steak tartare now a memory and no longer glaring right at him.

“Everyone, to the front.” Getou announced like he usually did, fingers wrapped around the metal table in a white knuckle grip. Everyone was standing at attention in no time, everyone but you. “As a reminder for service tonight…” He started, face a little sullen from your lack of appearance. So wrapped up in his own head he was that Getou didn’t notice the sound of the back door opening and closing or the way you snuck in behind everyone.

“And that’s all. Let’s do good tonight.” As everyone dispersed and Getou went about checking his lists, one person remained at the periphery of his vision. “Come here, do you have a question about the menu?”

“I do.” The sound of your voice made his head snap up and a fervent smile fought its way onto his face. Nicolas was off to the side reading something from a list of his own, not wholly paying attention to either of you.

“You came.” Getous mouth hung open slightly. There you were before him looking as eager as the day you’d first stepped foot in the kitchen. He remembered that day so clearly and how he wished he could have made a better impression on you instead of yelling about a coupe colonel.

“I did.” Smoothing down the front of your jacket, you caught his eyes. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not.” Shaking his head, Getou tried to look away from you but he couldn’t. His fingers flexed if only to try and disguise the slight tremble to them.

“Well, service has started.” Inching closer to him, you tried to ignore the slight burn in your cheeks as he continued to stare. “Can I look at the list? I need to make sure we have enough oyster mushrooms for that appetizer.” Your fingers wrapped around his and deftly unwound them from the piece of paper he’d been clenching onto. The action pulled him out of his stupor, enough so that he finally noticed the few line cooks waiting off to the side.

“I-I’ll be right there.” Clearing his throat and giving them a glance, Getou turned to you. “Glad to have you here, (Y/N).”

“Glad to be here.”

[eightmakesonebraincell]

OKAY BUT COACHELLA LAST NIGHT THERE WERE YEOSANGIE NIPNOPS AND HWA NIPNOPS AND SANNIE NIPNOPS AND MINGI NIPNOPS AND I THINK MY SOUL LEFT MY BODY WITH HOW MUCH I WAS STARING AT THEM ALL SO DISRESPECTFULLY BECAUSE THOSE PANTS GENTLEMEN (Addie tries to be a good girl. Tries. I'm only a human woman T-T) No word of a lie though, after the first set of songs I was staring at Woo and Yuyu with their sleeves rolled up over their arms (I'm a sucker for a guy in a button up with his sleeves rolled up, don't @ me for it) and I was commenting how they needed to stop because I was having some very impure thoughts AND THEN HONGJOONG STARTS SPEAKING WITH HIS JACKET OFF AND HIS SLEEVES ROLLED UP LIKE EXCUSE ME CAPTAIN YOU WEREN'T LIKE THAT LITERALLY 30 SECONDS AGO WHAT THE HELL MAN (listen when Captain does little things like that my delulu goes off the RAILS okay) Hwa screaming. Hwa doing rude things with his tongue while wearing a cowboy hat. Hwa kissing the team ring at the end. JONGHO CAN SPIN FLAG WITHOUT GETTING A SAIL MY COLOR GUARD HEART WAS SO DAMN PROUD OF OUR MAKNAE HONGJOONG'S EYES DURING WONDERLAND SIR CAN YOU NOT FOR FIVE SECONDS BITCHES WERE EYEING THEM DURING THOSE PELVIC THRUSTS AND BOOTY SHAKES (it's me I'm bitches) I have a lot of feelings I'm sorry I needed to gush and there isn't a lot of people in the Midwest USA that know Kpop so T-T

ateez and kq quite obviously don't care about the wellbeing of their fans because they were quite literally like

(along with the fact that they dropped a comeback announcement like HELLO??? RELEASE THE TOUR DATES AND SEND OUT THE ANITEEZ MERCH FIRST)

and both my parents decided to watch coachella with me on the ULTRA HD TV so you can imagine how hard it was for me to keep a straight face whilst extremely hot and sexy half-nekid men growled and tried to make the audience bark 👹

but GOOD LORD did they do just as well this week DARE I SAY EVEN BETTER (also coachella really picked up their slack and fixed the camera work and smoke screen like SLAY thanks for blessing us with the wooyo booty twerk zoom 😍🍑) god yes all of them were so [redacted redacted redacted] and i honestly [redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted] and UGH HWA SCREAMING HIS WHOLE SOUL OUT DURING WONDERLAND 👏👏👏 KING 👏👏👏 but also diD YOU SEE MINGI JUMP AND FALL HAHAHAHA i mean um did you see mingi's very artistic stage parkour 🤭

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #24

Masterpost

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Warnings: threats of non-con, threats of recapture

Elliot’s breath hitched and his heart stuttered. Fear buzzed under his skin like a swarm of bees.

He waited in the kitchen until he was absolutely certain Mr. Horneswood was upstairs and asleep.

He crept up the stairs and slipped into his room. He closed the door and locked it.

There was no way he was going to sleep in his bed. Too much of an invitation. He could hide in the closet, but then he wouldn’t be able to see him coming.

Sleeping at all was too much of a risk.

Elliot sat on the floor, back to the bed. He stared at the doorknob, waiting for it to rattle, waiting for Mr. Horneswood to burst through and take what had always been on offer before.

Two nights. One day.

He could stay awake. He must stay awake.

___________________

The bedroom was dangerous. It wasn’t clear to him before, but as he sat and waited, his eyes darted around in the shadows.

His beloved items and furniture provided hiding places, but they made it easier for him to be cornered.

He could be bent over his nightstand, pinned against the wardrobe, even the chest could be emptied and he could be shoved in and locked inside.

Elliot couldn’t stay in here, but it was the only place with a lock-

Oh.

Maybe Master Ambrose would let him upstairs? Mr. Horneswood wouldn’t dare hunt him down if he stayed up there.

But Ambrose would ask about it. What if he didn’t believe him?

Dawn approached as he thought in circles. By the time the light shined through the window, his bedroom had become as suffocating as a coffin.

He got up, and his vision went dark and blurry for a moment before clearing.

He unlocked the door, and slipped downstairs. There were chores to be done, no matter what he was feeling.

He bit his lip and glanced at the door across from his. It was still closed.

He breathed in and out. 

It might be fine. Elliot had a new master, and maybe, just maybe, Mr. Horneswood would realize there were different rules now. 

He went into the kitchen, and began to wash last night’s dishes.

___________________

“Good morning.”

He jumped, and turned to see Master on the steps. “Good morning, sir.”

Master Ambrose helped him gather up the decorations, winding the strung flowers into a nice loop before putting them away.

“I’m going to bring some more wood in, alright? We’re a little low. I’d appreciate it if you could sweep the floor. We’ll move the tables and chairs back after. And I think there’s some bacon in the larder if you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” He watched Ambrose leave, the pit of dread in his stomach growing. He was too nauseated for rich bacon; and instead opted for a day-old biscuit and a bit of butter.

He grabbed the broom and moved to the far corner. There were lots of crumbs from last night that needed to be taken care of.

Elliot was lost in the work, making the floor clean and shiny, when somebody pressed up against him. He froze. Hands settled on his shoulders, squeezing.

“Hello,” purred Mr. Horneswood into his ear. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

Elliot whimpered, and Mr. Horneswood shifted to murmur into his other ear. “He looked for you, you know. For quite a while. I figured you’d died.”

Elliot twitched, but he couldn't bring himself to move away.

Mr. Horneswood traced a finger over his chest before suddenly gabbing his chin. “I’m going to drag your sorry ass back home.”

He mouthed at his ear, and Elliot shuddered. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe I’ll make you my little bitch tonight,” he mused. “Just us, before I have to share my favorite slut again.”

Oh gods, no-

“What reward do you think he’ll give me for bringing you home? I know, how about I get to-”

The back door slammed open, and Mr. Horneswood jumped away from him.

Elliot couldn’t look up from the floor, couldn’t bring himself to move. But Mr. Horneswood brushed past him, probably to get his own breakfast.

Ambrose didn’t come into the room, no matter how desperately he wished for him. 

Elliot kept sweeping.

___________________

When the kitchen half of the inn was opened for the day, Mr. Horneswood took great pleasure in ordering him around. 

He was nicer when Ambrose was in earshot, but his smug, satisfied face sent chills up his spine when Master was gone. 

“You look better now that you’re fed,” said Mr. Horneswood, as Elliot fetched him coffee. “At least your new master understands the importance of actually having an ass to grab. Too bad for you; that’ll change.”

Elliot looked away. “He- he doesn’t touch me,” he whispered. “It's not allowed.”

“No? All the better then. I look forward to how tight you’ll be.”

___________________

“Elliot? Could you help me with this?” Ambrose called from across the room.

Elliot grabbed the topmost box from him, and helped set the delivery on the counter. He could feel Horneswood’s eyes watching.

Ambrose disappeared down into the cellar.

“Look at you,” mocked Horneswood. “Even got yourself a new name. Do you want me to call you Elliot when I fuck you, or is ‘whore’ still on the table?”

Elliot said nothing. What did he mean by new name? He couldn’t remember having one before. His old master hadn’t given him one.

He bit his lip.

“At least get me some more water while you’re over there,” Horneswood ordered, snapping him out of his thoughts.

___________________

Finally, Ambrose went upstairs to pray, and Elliot made the excuse of cleaning the upstairs windows in order to follow him.

The door clicked behind him, and he locked it just to be sure. Ambrose looked up from the altar. 

“Is everything alright?”

“He’s going to hurt me,” he blurted, “He- I-” his breath came quick and shallow, and he struggled to catch it.

“Slow down love.” Ambrose crossed the room, hands on his shoulders. Elliot flinched away.

“I- I know him. From before.” Ambrose’s eyes went wide. 

“Are you certain?” Elliot nodded, desperate for him to understand.

“He- He said I was a- a slut and- and he was going to take me back, and-” his voice cracked. He gulped in air.

“He said he was going to make me his bitch. And so many other horrible things!” Please believe me, please believe me, please please please.

“Hush. Come with me.” Ambrose’s voice was tight and firm, and angry. Master turned on his heel and stalked into the bedroom.

Elliot followed him inside. Was he going to be punished?

Ambrose pulled the doors shut behind them, and the more layers of walls and doors between him and Horneswood the better. Even if Ambrose was going to beat him.

But instead, Ambrose pulled down a dagger and sheath from a hook on the wall. The hilt was a shiny thing, with gold and encrusted gems. 

Master pulled the dagger out of its leather, and he could see how sharp it was.

Ambrose put it on the bed. Elliot didn’t take his eyes off the shiny steel.

“Do you want to watch?”

“I don’t understand, sir.” He looked up at Master Ambrose. 

Master Ambrose looked at him, a cold glint in his eyes.

“I’m going to kill him. Do you want to watch?”

Elliot considered the knife. He thought about yesterday, how he somehow already knew how to fold the flowers even though he couldn’t remember ever doing it before.

He thought about Mr. Horneswood’s taunt about having a new name, despite being unable to recall an old name.

“Elliot? Do you want to watch?”

“Yes.” He looked back at Ambrose. “I have questions for him.”

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut

[nahoney22]

Outcast (part 1/2)

Ebenezer Scrooge X F!Reader

word count: 3.8k

• Gif is mine, please credit if used •

After sitting back and holding your tongue about the way your boss goes about business, one Wintery night left you feeling rather frosty.

warnings: SFW, confrontation, Scrooge is a meany, reader is female and is wearing a dress, employee and boss relationship, mention of debtors, fluff at the end 😚 no use of y/n and not proofread ✍️

A/N sometimes it’s good to stray away from the Star/Clone Wars fandom for a bit and since my new obsession is this film, I couldn’t help myself

Masterlist

Part one | Part two

����𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Another year, another harsh winter. Maybe even more harsh than the last.

Painful pellets of cold snow blister along your features as you walk to your oh-so-lovely work in the early hours of the morning.

Luckily your hat managed to prevent the snow from blinding you completely so you could make out the outline of the Scrooge and Marley building where you had both the fortunate and unfortunate life of working there. Fortunately, it was a means of work so you were occupied, getting paid for something other than being a housemaid or someone who worked in a sweated industry. Supposedly being a secretary wasn’t all too bad yet the unfortunate side… was your boss. Ebenezer Scrooge.

Speaking of which, he was sitting in his office already upon your arrival. His door was closed and you spotted through the small window that he seemed to be in a heated discussion with whoever was on the other side.

At least you had enough time to hang up your coat and hat, brushing off any snow that dusted your clothing before checking the books. You turn to say a quick hello to Bob but frown to see the friendly faced clerk was nowhere to be seen. That is until the door to Scrooge's office bursts open and Bob appears with his face the same colour as his hair. Red.

“Bob? What is it?” You asked worriedly, watching him walk to the coat stand and wrap his scarf around his neck before slamming his hat on his head.

He inhaled a deep sigh and went to open his mouth but stopped when the sound of floorboards creaking interrupted him.

You both turn your heads, looking to see Scrooge stood there with his head high, chest puffed out and hands behind his back. “Still here Cratchit? I was certain I had told you to go to the factory to collect more ink.”

You blink and a frown crosses your features. “But sir, an order came in just last week? It will take Bob three hours to walk all the way there?” You even went ahead to check the books to see if you were correct but Scrooge had already snatched it out of your grasp before you could even flip the page.

“Yes we did. But Cratchit here has a habit of spilling every drop he can.” He gives you a stern look as you slowly pull your hand back, finding his gaze sometimes hard to look at. Especially when he was in one of his moods which gets a little more testy around this time of year. “And in doing so, he has now sacrificed a week's pay.”

With your eyes widening at the seemingly unfair punishment, you look back at your friend whose chest was heaving. Never had you seen him so angry. There was no kinder spirit than Bob Cratchit; a loving man with a just as loving family. You wish you could say the same about a certain someone.

“Sir, I’ll get ill if I go out there in this weather!” He gestures to the window, the snowfall being heavier than usual and you couldn’t even begin to tell him how slippy the pavements are at this time in the morning. “I need to work for my family, my boy. H-he’s ill.”

Your heart panged with sadness as Bob tried to plead with your boss, eyes watering just slightly.

“Well, if you get sick and you need the week off I will allow it. But then you’ll be sacrificing two weeks worth of pay.” He chuckles almost darkly, a daring look on his face as if to say ‘defy me and reap the consequences’.

The shock at his words made you audibly gasp, causing Scrooge to look at you with a questioning glance but all you can do is scoff and shake your head.

He had been cold towards you both in the past but this was taking the cake significantly.

It was a shame, really. Sometimes you did not even mind your boss and had come across his sensitive side maybe once or twice… or just the once. It was the perception of the townspeople that typically swayed one’s opinion on another and he just so happened to have a negative one. Granted he was not so popular yet was all at the same time. To which was a misfortune since you had spent many a time (although you would have thought it was little until Bob pointed it out one day) that you would find yourself gazing at Scrooge in his office. Simply imagining what it would be like to give him just a touch of tenderness as you caressed a hand over his bristled cheek. After all, he was quite a handsome man.

Then, what may be a foolish idea at first, you head straight into his office, ignoring his protesting and swipe up some shillings from his desk.

“What do you think you’re doing? How dare you steal money from me!” You ignored him, purposely brushing past him with the skirt to your dress following swiftly behind and gesture for Bob to stick his hand out.

As he does, you pour the money into his tattered gloved hand. “This is my week's pay. I would like you to have it.”

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly-.” He goes to protest, ready to give it back but you closed his hand firmly.

“Yes you can. One of us here has a family and it is not me and it is not Ebenezer,” you glance over your shoulder to gauge your boss's reaction, none short of furious, “you need this. I also do not wish for you to go to the factory as we have plenty of ink in stock here. Go home and get warm. We will see you tomorrow.”

After so many months of sitting back and allowing Scrooge to talk down to folk, you had finally lost your resilience and had to do the right thing. Truthfully, you wish you had done something earlier but who were you to interject in your bosses affairs and clients? However this was aboout Bob; a friend.

So many had left this office with their faces as white as snow, tears streaming down their cheeks and silent sobs bursting from their chests when Scrooge had either denied them money or charged more than they owed. It made you wonder, how many people went hungry that night because of the man you worked for.

Surprisingly, the young man did not even bid a farewell to his boss as he left. You watched him leave into the snow and let out a relieved exhale but your small shift of happiness diminished when you felt a cold presence behind you and it wasn’t from the brief chill that had blown in.

“Who do you think you are?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, suppressing your laugh of disgust before you finally turn to face him, chin up. “Is something the matter?” Feigning an innocence.

Scrooge's fists clenched by his sides, eye twitching. “How dare you dismiss my staff. How dare you go into my office without my permission, may I add, and pay your wage to them.”

You shake your head at him. “And how dare you almost dismiss him to his death. Do you realise how sick he could become if he made that unnecessary journey?” You move past him, taking Bob’s place on his small desk, shifting and tidying up his notes.

His jaw was so sharp and tight it could cut through paper and he had the nerve to laugh at your words. “His death? Please, he would have been fine.”

You pause the shuffling of some papers and stare right at him, almost through him. Your gaze was strong, powerful and one that almost made his knees buckle. Have you always appeared so fierce? A fire in the winter storm?

“How can you be so selfish?” Your words were slightly hushed. He couldn’t help but feel his face soften for just a mere moment. You didn’t even sound angry, just disappointed as if there was no chance of change for him. “So cruel? Do you get some kind of satisfaction of wanting to be an outcast all your life?” You continue, the flames of the candle by your left light up your eyes and for a second he wasn’t too sure if it was the reflection of the candle at all.

Your words stung, more than he thought they would have but granted, it was about some time someone was willing to put him in his place. He just didn’t think it would be his quiet secretary.

“That still does not give you the right to send Cratchit home. I need him to work today.” He ignores your harsh yet truth-filled words, fixing his shirt collar and tie as if someone had just had their hands round him and tried to knock sense into him.

“And I shall pick up the slack.” You grab yourself a quill and a small ink pot, making small adjusts to the paperwork.

Scrooge raises a brow and smirks a little. “You’re aware you have given up your wages for this week?”

You could almost hear the smirk on his lips without even looking. Feeling something nudge at your legs, you glance down to see Prudence rubbing uk agaisnt you, asking for pats which you gladly gave. “I am aware. I am also aware that given this disagreement and the mere fact you disagree with me helping my fellow colleague that my stuff will have to be cleared out come the morrow?”

He’s taken aback as you look his way once more. There’s no sign of sorrow on your face at the possibility of you losing your job, in fact it seemed that there was expectance.

A small whine from Prudence catches his attention, her puppy-dog eyes almost pleading him in a sense to let you stay.

Agitated, he runs a hand through his greying hair and stands straight with a small stomp of his foot. “I expect a full report of yesterday’s money-lending antics on my desk by the end of the day. I also expect a new order of five ink well pots to make up for the ones that had been spilt this morning.” Then he turns, and leaves through the archway of his office and closes the door behind him.

A wave of relief washes through you and you share a look with Prudence. “I know girl, I know.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

When six o’clock draws near you almost cheer. Scrooge had not spoken a word to you since that morning which for some peculiar reason made the day appear longer than usual.

Every now and again, you would look up from your spot that is usually accompanied by Bob to glance through the window to Scrooge’s office, both horrified and curious to see him already looking back. Once your eyes had locked, he’d quickly look away and shake his head, mumble soemthing to himself and you curse yourself for not being able to read one’s lips.

You collect the reports as requested and make a stand. Your dress had crumbled a little so you straighten it out and rest your hands on hips to have an idle touch of your corset to make sure it was locked properly in place.

What you didn’t see was your boss stealing a glance your way again, his blood running hot and not because he was still angry from this morning. The second you turn back around and he just knew you were coming into his office he almost frantically tided up his desk the second you knock on the door.

“Come in.” He clears his throat, a quill in his hand as he scribbles a whole load of nonsense onto some parchment as if to look ‘busy’.

When you enter, you head straight to his desk and gently place your work of the day ontop

of a small pile already there and take a step back. “Is there anything else I can do before I leave tonight, sir?”

Obviously aware of your presence, he only now looks up at you. His room was dark already, lit by a few candles but you seemed to glow the most. Your face was neutral, soft to touch. He blinks out of his unwelcoming daze, almost disgusted at himself for finding something or someone nice to look at.

“No, that will be all. I expect you same time tomorrow.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. As you begin to leave, his curiosity got the better of him and stands to his feet and follows after you before you could leave. “W-wait. May I have a moment of your time?”

You were quite surprised how quick he was to catch up to you and even more surprised how he managed to stand in front of the buildings door before you could even reach the handle. Pausing, you give him a quizzing glance and rest your hands together over your stomach. “You may, Sir.”

“What you did today for Cratchit,” he begins, walking over towards the desk you were previously sitting at, finger trailing along the old wood, “what possessed you to do such a thing? It was not your money to give away.”

There was some shock that hit you that he was willing to discuss this morning again. But alas, you give him your answer. “If you were to hand me the money from your own hand it still would have been mine and regardless, I would have given it to him. He needs the money more than I do.”

He’s stunned but still confused. “And you do not need money? Does your husband, partner have a worthy enough income?”

For some reason you found yourself chuckling at his question and he instantly took offence. “What is so funny about that?”

“Forgive me, I am not laughing at the question. I am simply laughing because for all the time you have known me, you should have realised by now there is no ring on my finger.” You hold up your hand and of course, there was no jewel in sight.

To say the least, he was surprised that you were not for accounted for. “You have never been courted? I am… surprised.”

You shift a little, unsure how the topic of you giving Cratchit money was related to you being unmarried but by the look on his face, he genuinely seemed interested. It made you feel…odd. But in a good way. Maybe you telling him off today may have sunken in. And he’s surprised? You don’t know wether or not to blush but your cheeks naturally warm up anyway.

“If you are to put it like that then yes, I am. Unmarried and never been courted.” You sigh.

“Oh.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile and slowly nod. “So seeing as I only have to care for myself and not my husband nor children, I am stable enough to help a family man.”

“And if you are to go hungry?” He quizzes.

You hum in some kind of ironic amusement, tightening your coat around your body as you hear the wind pick up outside. “Then I will be the same with many of the rabble we take money from.”

He scoffed, thinking you were joking for a second but the look on your face said otherwise. “We do not take money. We lend the money to those in debt and catch them out when they can not pay it back. Their burdens are of their own consequences.”

“And so you must ask them for extra? Knowing they can not pay on time?” You don’t look to him as you speak, hoping to not start up another fight as you were about to leave. You were lucky enough to remain working here after this morning. “Again forgive me Sir, but I have been on the receiving end and during Winter, times are exceptionally hard.”

There was a hint of subtle emotion in your voice and you sigh, shaking it off and look over to him to see an unreadable expression. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips turned downward yet his eyes showed just a little something. Remorse? Guilt? You were unsure. What you were sure of however was that you wanted to get home and curl up in your lonely bed to get away from this cold.

“May I be excused for this evening?”

He closes his eyes, taking in all what you had said but felt conflicted in one’s self. Of course he thought what he was doing was right. People must reap of their consequences but your voice was telling him that one should not suffer because of them. “Yes, very well.”

He steps aside and actually opens the door for you, surprising you at the small gentlemanly notion. “Thank you Sir. Please be careful when walking home, it is rather slippy.” You mention as you step out the door, sliding on your gloves and inhale the crisp and bone-chilling air.

“Goodnight.” Ebenezer quickly adds as you begin to walking down the snow covered steps, pausing to look back his way.

“And to you.”

———

The sound of someone thumping against a wooden door frame was what brought you out of your work, gazing up to see your boss standing in the doorway to his office and looking at you. “Do you have a minute to spare?”

You carefully place your quill back in the ink pot, careful not to drop any spillages on your paperwork before making a stand. He steps into his office, you following and closing the door behind you. “Is everything okay?”

“Quite, yes. I-I’ve been thinking. All last night, I simply could not sleep no matter how hard I tried.” He sounded worrisome and you certainly hoped he had not fallen ill because of the weather. Even if it was a big fat ‘I told you so.’

“Oh Sir,” you walk towards him and hold your chilly hand to his head, completely freezing him and he was certain he didn’t freeze up because of how cold your hands were either, “are you ill?”

“No, ah - I,” he’s stammering awkwardlly, face flushed as you come close to him but gently moves your hand away from his face, “I wanted to express my apologies for how I acted yesterday. I was rude and unkind to my… best workers.”

“…We are your only workers, Sir.” You can’t help but blush and laugh softly. However, you were pleasantly surprised to hear him apologise to you - it was never like him to do so. Gods, did you manage to wear down the Ebenezer Scrooge?

He laughs a little and nods, rubbing the sleeve of his suit on his left arm. “Yes, yes that may be true but I was foolish yesterday. I have you to thank for making me realise how callous I behaved. Therefore, I have a gift for you. And for Cratchit when he returns to work.”

He piques your curiosity, watching as he stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small pouch and gesturing by the small jingle it held, that meant money. “I would like you to have this, as compensation for my behavior but as well as gratitude for your hard work.” He extends out his hand to where you hesitantly take his offering and almost gasp at how heavy it felt.

He could see you weighing it up in your hand and smiled as your eyes brightened. Clearly, so much relief had fallen from your shoulders. But before you can ask, he interjects quickly. “Fifty pounds.”

Your eyes, which were trained on the pouch, snapped up to meet him with your mouth agape. “F-fifty?”

“Yes.” He nods, holding onto each of the lapels to his dress suit, straightening it out as he stands proud. “And not to worry, Bob will receive the same amount.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening nor could you believe what you were about to do.

You step to the side and place the pouch onto his desk for a second and you could see in his eyes that he is about to question why you’re returning it but before he could open his mouth, your hands found the back of his neck as you pulled yourself in for a warm embrace.

Never had Scrooge felt his life freeze before his very eyes until this moment. He stiffens up like a plank of wood, hands extended to the side pathetically as he takes in the feeling of your chest pressed to his own and your chin resting on his right shoulder.

“Sir, I can not thank you enough. You have bestowed me with enough warmth, room and food for the remainder of Winter and upcoming Spring.” Your breath bristles against his neck, a warmth radiating him and ridding him of all the bad even if just for a mere moment. It sent waves of shock through him.

“W-well, that is quite alright.” Again, his hands stayed to the side. To hear you thank him however ignited the start of a small flame on a fire brewing inside him. Seeing how one person can act to such kindness made him wonder if the same could be said for all the others. “I hope it is a significant fund for you.”

You pull away from him yet your hands now rest on either shoulder, a sweet smile on your lips. “Oh Sir, it’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

He’s looking down at you, trying to ignore the odd sensation in his gut at the proximity. It was improper yet, he could not take his eyes away from you. “Please, call me Ebenezer.”

There was no taking back what you were about to do, but with your heart so full knowing you can live securely for the upcoming months with no hassle, you just had to thank him again.

On the tips of your toes you lean up and place a small lingering kiss to his cheek. Perhaps a little too close to the corner of his lips but as his hands immediately fly to your waist, fingers grazing against the boning of your corset underneath your dress you gathered it was welcome.

As you pull away, your eyes glimmered with innocence and you blushed as you see his eyes were closed, breath a little ragged. Once he opened up again to look at you, he’s breathtaken and you know that maybe it was time to step away.

“Thank you Si- Ebenezer,” as you take a small

step back, his hands had stilled at your waist causing you to stop for a moment, raising an amused brow until he clears his throat and finally lets his hands slip away, “my heart is full.”

He’s speechless, truly. Your lips still lingers on his skin, goosebumps trailing up his arms. As he goes to speak, nothing comes out. So instead, he gives you a smile and a nod of courtesy.

Maybe he will do something nice again for you in the future.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

[juice-plums]

Brett Hand x reader: 80’s porno

(smutty!!!)

Y/n always put Brett’s best interest at heart he even convinced her to go to Still Valley a town who relives the 80’s she puts on the clothes and disguise he planned and it was sweet But the two of them alone in this house Brett had asked her to do a favor it’s been his like dream

“You want me to do a 80’s style porno with you? No way Brett” She scrunches her nose filling her nail

“Y/n please I’ll never ask anything from you again if you agree to do this with me” He begs getting on his knees Y/n and Brett were not dating and how dare he ask you to star in a porno at least take her to dinner first

“I-we can lose our jobs if that were to leak or worse Myc could find us before we find him and he’ll tell on us” She explains Brett made his eyes go big like puppy’s eyes pouting Y/n frowns being pulled in his trap

“Fine let’s do it” She sighs in defeat Brett hugs her squishing her face in his chest

“Oh thank you Y/n OH! I need to get ready meet me in the woods okay!?” He yells running out the door she sighs what Did I get myself into well I guess I should get ready maybe I’ll put on the workout outfits in those videos okay

Y/n walks into the wood seeing Brett setup and dressed like a lifeguard He was kind of hot he sees her and excitedly skips to her pulling her in further

“You look great Y/n Here is your script and thank you again”

she nods looking at the script not that much words just a bit of talking she suspected he wanted to just get into the sex part immediately Brett smiles going to start the Video camera she sets the script down behind a stump fixes her hair waiting

“Okay we are ready 1,2,3” He presses start and gets into position Y/n looks around and gasps seeing Brett and trotting up to him her breasts moving it immediately gave Brett a boner Damn you 80’s workout outfits

“Hello Lifeguard sir I’ve seem to have lost my way Do you have directions to town” She sweetly asks touching his arm

“Well It’s pretty far we might need to get comfortable for the journey” When Brett said comfortable he pulled Y/n by her waist closer to his chest her tits squished against his fit body Y/n instantly kisses his lips Brett kisses back playing with her tongue and grabbing her Bum she felt a sensation being dominated Brett kisses her neck nipping and sucking on it She tastes so good He thought Y/n drools

She puts her hand on his crotch making him grunt feeling Y/n rub his Boner he gasps as she grabs it she cheekily kisses his lowly moaning mouth Brett shakes his head

“Get on your knees” He said his voice going low she complies massaging his thighs Brett pulls down his trunks his Penis sticking up hitting her forehead she lets it rest on her face there for a little admiring his length Thick and Girthy with veins twitching Y/n the. kisses the tip Making him Wince placing a hand on her head knotting Y/n’s hair in his hand

Y/n takes a deep breath before fully taking his Penis on her mouth Brett Yelps as she deep throats letting herself gag and feeling his Penis twitch

“Oh shit-Oh fuck!” He grunts making her hum in delight Brett Smirks then thrusts in her mouth like a flesh light down her throat she looks at him in his eyes her makeup runs her cheeks being stuffed Y/n lets her throat be fucked drool mixed with his pre cum run down her chin

“You’re so messy with it Y/n make sure to swallow” He playfully taunts she plays with his balls making sure he feels infinite pleasure Brett Moans forcing her head down and shooting his seed down her throat he whimpers she felt his Dick twitch vigorously as he pulled out

“Okay that should be enough lube you ready for the best part” he asks caressing her face she obediently nods making him smile and help her up Brett puts his hands on the straps of the Workout suit and rips it down the middle she gasps her breast popping out he massages her tits making her moans as he pinched her nipples

Brett fully rips off the suit leaving her in only leg warmers making her shiver He pulls her up against a tree and positioned his Penis in her vagina she holds on tight to Brett as he enters her Y/n groans feeling his Penis fill her walls Breaking her hymen she scrunches her face but deals with the pain Covering her mouth

Brett moves her hand making out with her instead and he moves her slowly up and down her body sweating and her back hurting as it rubs against the tree then she had an epiphany she started seeing stars and she started to feel her self dripping holy shit no she can’t be enjoying this this was all pretend oh she didn’t care all she wanted to do was

“Oh Brett Fuck me” She screams clawing at his back Brett hisses and laughs compiling moving her faster up and down on his penis she makes lewd noise wrapping her legs around him Brett whoops death gripping her ass as he rams into her pussy she bites his neck making him giggle

“Yes right there,Oh! I love your cock sooo much!!” She exclaims Brett Smiles

“I know you do Yes of course you do!” He mutters his thrusts became sloppy and he was close like dangerously close he could cum instantly if Y/n says-

“Oh Good boy you are such a good boy-Ahh!~”

“Oh Fuck!!!” Brett slams Y/n down and came inside Y/n filling her womb with his seed She gasps scratching his back they pant Brett puts her down She feels his cum leak out of her She makes out with him ruffling her hair

“Was that just a tactic to get us to fuck” She whispers

“Maybe”

“Brett you’re so naughty”

Brett goes to the camera And presses stop

“I’m gonna save it when you’re gone for awhile and I get really horny”

She giggle nodding Now the real question remains how will they get back to the house Brett picks her bridal style and carries her back to the house

[secretwhumplair]

Found & Lost

1,264 words | The black prince [WT] (sequel to The Outpost)

Content | Multiple whumpees, broken bones, starvation, mute whumpee, mentioned/implied: painful healing, death

Notes | Say hello to the prince! Surely nothing heartbreaking can happen now that he is safely with his people.

Taglist | @echo-goes-aaa @whump-blog

Orafin’s vision went black for a moment when he slid off the horse, bending his broken legs in all the wrong ways.

Despite wanting to get away as quickly as possible, he hadn’t been able to help being glad Elgar couldn’t make the horse more than walk. Even so, everything was a haze of agony, his legs only the sharpest among the bruises and welts and open cuts all over his body, and the painful void inside his stomach.

He could hardly think, even now that General Tarrev’s familiar face struck relief from his tormented heart like a gold vein from raw stone. Barring his siblings, there could not have been a more welcome view than the man who taught him how to fight when he was a child, who could protect him as well as he helped protect the kingdom.

He distantly heard Tarrev order a medic and food to his quarters, and a messenger to ready themself. Then his voice turned quieter as he arranged Orafin into a bridal carry. »What have they done to you, my Prince.«

Orafin could barely process what was being said, but one thought broke through the haze. Something—someone—was missing.

It took all the effort he could spare, but he managed to grab Elgar’s hand as Tarrev turned away.

Tarrev looked into his pleading eyes, and thankfully understood. »You want your companion to come with us?« He switched to the Rekkshuran Elgar had used to communicate. »Can you walk, good sir?«

Orafin didn’t register Elgar’s answer. He found his head leaning against Tarrev’s arm; it was so nice and warm. Then what felt like moments later, he was set down into a cot that felt as comfortable, no, better than his four-poster at home.

He was going to go home.

All thanks to the poor creature who had been enslaved alongside him, and had the courage to run when he couldn’t.

Elgar’s hand hadn’t slipped from his, and now that he was almost comfortably reclined, aside from the pain, and flooding with what joy his exhausted body could handle, he found it less strenuous to turn his head and look at him.

He looked frightened, and Orafin gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

He had promised he would protect the man who had saved him, tonight in an act of unfathomable bravery but in truth probably a dozen times over, and he would keep his promise. He wanted nothing more than to tell him he was safe, that no one would dare lay a hand on him ever again, or else that he could go home when he had recovered his strength; but all he could do was squeeze his hand like they had done dozens of times.

»Here, your Highness.« Tarrev sat down on his other side with a bowl of—it could have been anything, for all Orafin cared. It was food.

He managed to take it in his feeble hands. It felt wrong, freely being handed food, like he would definitely be punished if he simply accepted it; he looked at Tarrev’s face to fight the horrific instinct that had been implanted in him, finding kind worry rather than lurking malice.

»I know it is not much, your Highness. I apologize, but it is dangerous for a starved man to eat too much, too quickly. You will not have to wait long on your next meal, on my word.«

Orafin thought he might cry from the care he was being shown. Elgar had done what he could with what he had, but he had never been quite able to make a material difference, except leaving him a tiny little more of his own food—and how grateful Orafin had been, knowing they were both hungry. He was almost ashamed a proper meal made him feel so much better, when it was so easily given.

He couldn’t focus too much on his concerns, though. It was all he could do to spoon the stew up rather than simply drink it out of the bowl in one go. It was difficult enough, even physically; he had not been allowed to even use his hands to eat for months.

He only distantly noticed the medic entering.

»Your Highness. May I attend to you legs?«

When he didn’t answer—he couldn’t simply nod when he wanted to beg for them to be careful—, the medic frowned. »Your Highness, can you not speak?«

He swallowed before opening his mouth in reply. Tarrev took in a sharp breath, and the medic’s shoulders sagged.

»Let him finish eating,« Tarrev told the medic in his stead, and Orafin instantly knew why. This would hurt. Tarrev got up and went over to his desk. »Wait…«

Orafin was already wiping the bowl clean with his fingers. There would be no way around it, and he shouldn’t be looking for one—they were goint to heal him, not pointlessly hurt him out of cruelty.

Tarrev returned with a slate and pencil. »Can you write, your Highness?«

Orafin took them with trembling hands, setting the cleared bowl down. His hands felt awfully unsteady, but he scrawled thank you on the slate, in the largest letters he could fit.

»I am your servant, your Highness,« Tarrev only replied quietly.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed being able to communicate. There were so many things he suddenly felt the need to talk about.

But first, he held the slate up to Elgar. He had, Orafin noticed only now that the worst of his own hunger was sated, been given his own bowl of stew. He would have been surprised if Elgar could read Ochurian, but Tarrev picked up on his intentions. »His Highness wishes to thank you.«

Elgar only nodded timidly, ducking his head in a clumsy bow.

Orafin wanted to tell him a thousand things more, not the least that there was no need to bow to him, but Tarrev continued while he was wiping the slate, so he merely noted a quick, Please speak Rekkshuran, for the benefit of my companion.

»I wrote to their Majesty, your sibling,« Tarrev said, half-turning to the medic, and then repeated himself according to Orafin’s orders, continuing on in a language Elgar could understand. »If nothing holds them up, they can be here tomorrow night. They will be able to heal you if you prefer to wait.«

The medic nodded, hesitantly. »I can just give you something for the pain for now, then. But it’s always better with these things not to wait too long, even for a mage.«

But Orafin barely registered any of that. Their Majesty, your sibling. He stared at Tarrev, desperate for this not to mean what it had to mean.

Tarrev noticed the moment that had caught him, and his face fell. »Oh.« Orafin wasn’t sure he had ever heard the man’s voice go this soft, and he felt dizzy, knowing that this could not bode well. »Have… Had you not heard?«

Orafin blinked back tears. Only rumours.

Tarrev nodded slowly, lowering his eyes. »I am so sorry. Her Majesty passed from injuries sustained in battle… four months ago now.«

Without ever seeing her youngest son again, believing him dead. Without Orafin there to say his final goodbyes, or hear his mother’s last words, or even attend the funeral. With his siblings believing this to be the second loss in such short time.

Without him.

Orafin had thought he had run out of tears some hours ago, but now he covered his face in his hands and wept more.

[bangtannies-stories]

Kingpin: Chapter 1

Opening/The Invitation

Warnings: Violence (physical violence, including a character punching a wall out of anger)

Kidnapping/Disappearance (The central plot involves the disappearance of a character)

Emotional Distress (Jin’s going through a rough patch emotionally and mentally)

Mafia/Crime Themes (story involves criminal activities, including organized crime, mafias, and rivalries)

Tense Atmosphere (The story maintains a consistently tense atmosphere, which may be unsettling for some readers)

——

In the heart of Seoul, where the air gets damp and cold, and nobody who was a nobody dared to enter without permission or invitation, a tall building sat. On the top floor, the CEO of Sentinel Solutions, South Korea’s most prominent security consulting firm, was in a panic.

He was a tall man, standing at about 5’10. His brown hair was styled into a mullet and parted with a prominent swoop on the right side of his face. Always dressed in a clean, ironed suit, the man was about 37, and behind his charmingly good looks, he was one of the most feared people you could imagine.

His name?

Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, whose front business already generated enough revenue to keep him wealthy for the rest of his life, had been dealing with a problem in his true walk of life. One where he was known as the Onyx Reaper, kingpin of the biggest crime syndicate in Seoul, the Ecliptic Shadows.

“Boss, we have no leads on Jiwoo.” A deep voice called from the door. It was one of Seokjin’s most trusted members, Taehyung. Taehyung had come to let his boss and friend know that his sister, who had vanished into thin air the previous air, was still not found.

Seokjin, who had shed tears upon tears when his employees weren’t with him, got up and punched the plaster in the wall out of anger.

“I want every available man searching, search all of Korea if you have to! Nobody stops until my sister is safe under our protection!”

Taehyung bowed to his boss, and left the office. As he was walking down the hall, he came across his best friend Jimin who hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night.

“How did it go?” He asked.

“Not good. He punched another hole into his wall.” Taehyung answered sadly as the two walked hurriedly to where her disappearance was being investigated.

“I didn’t realize their fight yesterday was this bad. Do you have a clue what it was about?” Jimin asked as he sat down at his desk.

“No idea. All I remember was them screaming at each other before she locked herself in her bedroom. Next thing I knew, the alarm was tripped and she was gone without a trace,” Taehyung answered.

——

After searching day and night for two days, Seokjin was on edge continuously. His sister had still not been found, and the longer she’s missing, the less of a chance she’ll be found alive.

While he was at his desk searching through evidence, his youngest friend, Jungkook, walked in with an invitation in hand.

“Jin- um sir-“ he started but was interrupted.

“What.” Jin said and looked up.

“One of our allies sent this invitation to his son’s wedding. Apparently it’s really important you show.” Jungkook said and handed Jin the invitation.

Jin read to himself,

“Dear Seokjin,

You are cordially invited to Minjae’s wedding. I know we have been dear allies and good friends for a while, so it is requested you show your support and celebrate with us. It has been a while since you have attended any functions with us. Come say hello! The ceremony is at 2pm sharp this Saturday. I hope to see you!

Sincerely,

Park Joon-ho.”

“Jin, I know this is a critical time but I figured we could weed out suspects at the wedding. Many different mafias are coming including… Namjoon.” Jungkook confessed.

Jin banged his fist on his desk in anger.

“That asshole? Why is he showing up?” Jin shouted.

“I’m not sure but I have a bad feeling. He never attends events like this.” Jungkook said.

Jin thought for a moment. He made a decision.

“Fine, we’ll all go. But there will be people searching while we are there.”

——

The day of Park Minjae’s wedding had arrived. Seokjin, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook arrived along with extra security in case something went wrong.

They took their positions and sat through the wedding, constantly on alert for any danger. Little did they know, three pairs of eyes were watching from the back row, watching their every move. The head of the three was very interested in speaking with the Onyx Reaper.

At the reception, everyone was communicating and speaking of relations when Jin was approached.

“Kim Seokjin, a pleasure to see you out and about.” The deep voice spoke.

Jin turned around and came face to face with his rival.

Kim Namjoon, the Shadowstorm Reaper, and head of the Obsidian Syndicate.

——

Kingpin Chapter 1 is finally here! I can’t wait for you all to read what I have been working on. I hope you all love it! If you do, please comment or reblog and show some love!