#and she can try to make herself less of a threatening presence. And she can be civil

[radical-dadical-rafael]

I so understand why ppl like making content where Jon and Daisy are friends but have you considered the fact that um. They wouldn't be.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Hey!Hey! How are you doing? I hope well.

In any case, I can make the request with Ganyu, Sarah, Shenhe, Furina, Lynette and Arlecchino with a shy, kind and quiet Y/N taking a stance to defend them?

(Genshin Impact) Ganyu, Eula, Sara, Shenhe, Furina, Lynette, and Arlecchino's shy S/O defending them

Ganyu is speechless when she sees her S/O stepping in between the person she's speaking to.

(S/O) "Ganyu is always doing the best she can...! I don't see you putting even a single fraction of effort she always does!"

While she is surprised, her love for S/O goes up tenfold hearing them stand up for her. Especially knowing that they were just as shy as she was.

It inspires her to do the same, and takes their hand to excuse themselves.

Once they get out of the area, she gives such a warm smile to them.

(Ganyu) "Thank you for saying those things about me, S/O...Would you like to get dinner tonight, it's on me!"

Eula can't help but wince a little, seeing S/O step in to defend her.

She was used to this, and worst of all, this would paint a target on S/O's back as well, if dating her already didn't do that.

But at the same time, it made her heart swell hearing their words.

(S/O) "Who cares if she's a Lawrence! She's always fought for every single one of us in Mondstadt to keep it safe, including you! Don't...Don't treat her like that!"

Once she fights off her creeping blush, she takes S/O aside after the argument.

(Eula) "You didn't need to do that, but...thank you, S/O. Just don't get hurt because of me, got it?"

Sara is more impressed than anything that someone had the balls to even insult the General of the Tenryou Commission straight to her face.

And she continues to be when Sara steps in.

(S/O) "And what have you contributed to Inazuma? Sara would be the first one to defend the people, while you'd be doing nothing!-"

With how soft-spoken S/O was, she decides to step in so that way S/O doesn't let a vein burst in anger.

(Sara) "That is enough, S/O. Thank you."

Once they're in private, she can't help but smile.

(Sara) "S/O, about what happened back there...I have to say I'm impressed and...thanks."

Shenhe is resisting the urge to bash this person's head against the wall.

Not for insulting her, she was used to that, it was for doing this while she was on a date with S/O, and their time had to be wasted on this nonsense.

Before she could open her mouth and threaten them, S/O steps in.

(S/O) "She's not an adeptus. Shenhe is human, more than you are!"

Shenhe recoils ever so slightly at their words, moreso by the fact that S/O spoke less than her, and yet decided to interfere.

It also made Shenhe be that much more fond of S/O. They'd defend her, even though she didn't need it?

(Shenhe) "S/O, let us be off before I throw this man into the harbor."

And if they tried to insult S/O, then Adepti help them, because then she'd actually do violence to them.

Furina shrinks with every insult thrown her way by the person standing in their way.

At least, until S/O stepped in between them.

(S/O) "Shut up. Furina isn't even human, yet she'll always be a better person than whatever you'll turn out to be!"

Furina's mouth goes agape, she'd never thought that the S/O who would clam up at the presence of more than herself could say such a thing.

Doubly so when they spit at their feet and take her hand and drag Furina away.

Furina is blushing the entire time, trying to process what just happened.

(Furina) "That...was quite the performance S/O. And...u-um...thank you for defending me."

She is looking away, blushing madly as she thanks them.

Lynette really didn't care about the person calling her cold.

She was used to it, and it's not like they were wrong. She was busy tuning them out until S/O's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

(S/O) "If you're so adamant on her performing magic, I got one for you! Conjure yourself a bridge, AND JUMP OFF IT!"

Lynette's tail shoots straight up as her eyes go wide.

Okay, she didn't expect her S/O was even more quiet than her to ever say something like that.

Not that she had a complaint at all about it.

S/O and Lynette get some privacy, making her speak up.

(Lynette) "...I'd say you should say stuff like that more often, but that'll create more headaches for the two of us."

Arlecchino couldn't give less of a damn about what people said about her.

Which made her all the more surprised when S/O defended her from a stranger's rude words.

(S/O) "You call her hands creepy, but you haven't even looked in a mirror today!"

Oh? Now that got her attention.

She was under the impression that her S/O was like Freminet in terms of speaking to others.

Arlecchino doesn't even wait until they're out of earshot.

(Arlecchino) "My, I didn't know you had it in you, S/O. You should let that side out more often."

If that person wanted to interrupt her and S/O's conversation now, they'd answer to her instead.

S/O's defense truly wasn't needed, but the thought at least counts.

[alohamoramylove]

whatever you do dont think about the hunger games from gales perspective

dont think about gale as a twelve year old boy when his father dies, learning to hitch snares and catch food, knowing his three siblings will starve without him. dont think about him finding katniss in the woods, and beginning to hope for the first time that he wont have to be alone, that he can have a friend and a partner in staying alive. dont think about how he spent years learning her (and himself through her), about the solace and the peace he finds in hunting with her, about the way that no one in his entire life has ever known him in the way she does, about how it is easier to stay alive with her. dont think about him as a 17 year old boy trying to survive, making due as he always has, and waiting out his reaping years. for the love of god dont think about the reaping day from his perspective. about him hearing prim's name and knowing instantly, probably even before katniss herself, that she will be going into the games. do not think about him swallowing his grief and rage and terror, the knowledge that he is about to lose the person most important to him. he knows what he has do to. he watches katniss move toward the stage. he bites his tongue and moves forward too. he grabs prim and holds her tightly, clenching his jaw against her thrashing and screaming. dont think about his visit with her, the sharpness of his hope, the depth of the promises he will now uphold.

dont think about him going into the woods alone for the first time in years, all of the pain and rage and sorrow and grief and despair rushing up at him in the hollow of the trees. how he still has to hunt, how he still has mouths to feed. about his weekly visits to the everdeen house to drop off game, how their house is empty of her, how alone he is now, how the loneliness has returned more viciously than it ever has been because now he knows what companionship means, how the task of surviving becomes less burdensome in the presence of love. and the whole time, he is watching the games. he is staring at her face, noticing every change with the capitol's makeup and waxing, watching her play the game before shes even in the arena. holding out hope, and watching her be traumatized in real time. eventually, watching her pretend to fall in love with another man, and maybe knowing it isnt true but knowing that it doesnt matter anyway, that she will be bound to those lies even if she survives. watching her kill and watching people try to kill her, watching her hunt and be hunted. he watches her notch her arrows in teh swift and familiar motion he has seen countless times, and he resents the eyes he knows are boring into her all across the country. because their relationship, the sacredness of their survival, will never be their own again. knowing that even if she comes back, nothing will ever be the same. and then she makes it, and shes home, and everything is different. watching her move away, and change, and process, seeing her have more money than he has ever seen in his life, knowing that she would provide enough for him that he would never have to hunt again, but she never offers because he would never accept it. working in the mines, where his father's remains still sit, where he was always headed. watching the capitol freaks visit her, dress her up and strip her down, watching the camera crews roll into town and steal her away and she is so distant now, so distant and never comign back. and still he loves her. still he knows her better and more deeply than anyone in the world. they still hunt together, but infrequently and she doesnt do it out of necessity anymore. snow threatens her and him, and she has to marry peeta and he knows she has to and still his mouth is soured at the thought. and then the announcement of the quarter quell strikes. she's going back in. he'd be a fool to think she will ever return. he readies himself for grief again, but this time it's different. shes married, and distant, and things havent been the same since the reaping anyway. and still, he prepares to watch his best friend die. the games progress, and she has allies now. people hes never met, could never trust. she used to be his ally, and him hers. and then the allies turn on her, and hes watching her bleed out on screen, and then shes fumbling with her arrow, and she is about to die. then the screen is black.

then the hovercrafts come in, and he saves the people he can but the ones he cant he watches burn, hears them scream. his entire home obliterated, his best friend likely dead but undoubtedly unreachable. three hundred mouths to feed and no foreseeable end. an eventual rescue and they let him see her, and he looks at her battered body and knows he has to tell her, and knows too that she will know her arrow sent the hovercrafts. but now his people are fed, and katniss is safe. or at least here with him. and he is trying so hard to connect with her but she is distant and scared and angry and there are parts of her now that he will never understand. and she is being used as a pawn again, just like she was in the capitol. but he is a soldier now, and he is fighting the war he has always wanted to. and he knows that she needs peeta out of the capitol, so he volunteers to save him. not because he cares for peeta, but because he knows its what she needs. and the decision wasnt even hard. and now peeta is rescued but it was a trap and peeta is a weapon and now he knows that he will never compete with peeta, that she will never look at him how he wants her to ever again. but he still has a war to fight, and so they do. he works on designing weapons, he films propos, he stays by katniss' side because thats what he does and it was never even a question. the war progresses and he watches her die a thousand times, sees that coin is trying to kill her. he fights beside the mockingjay and remembers a time when they were children in the woods together. they have never stopped trying to survive together. and the war is nearing a close and they are separated and katniss cant or doesnt shoot him. the war is over and someone is telling him that prim is dead. someone is telling him about the bombs that killed her and he recognizes it as his own trap. he is sick to his stomach and being torn apart. he spent his entire life trying to keep her alive. he can hardly face katniss. he is so riddled with rage and grief and trauma and guilt and he cant even fathom how it got to this point. he has lost everything. he has nothing left, everyone who loves him has died or stopped loving him. so he moves to 2, hears stories about katniss and peeta, about her children that she swore she'd never have. and maybe katniss was right, and war and death wasnt the answer, adn he gets that now, he really does. and its too late, and his understanding is worthless now. but he remembers that girl in the woods. the soft spoken, beautiful girl with wit and grit and incredible aim. he remembers the girl that taught him about love, and how to make a bow. he remembers that girl, and how they were each others survival, and he lives the rest of his life tremendously sorry.

[enehana]

could you possibly write like, nico but he now has a younger sister whoes a lot like leo and percy combined??

Of course

Nico would be bothered by having a sister that behaves so much like the guy he's liked for years. A constant reminder of the guy who could never like him.

Regardless, he would try to be good to her. He would never want her to feel abandoned, as he did so often.

He would try to teach her to survive on her own, to not need him. Everything could work out for both of them, right?

It does, until she starts intentionally having problems so he has no choice but to help her.

He starts to feel bad once he realizes what she's doing. Then it hits him. She could never be Bianca. But he could be her Bianca.

He'd teach her to shadow travel. He'd take her down to the underworld for family dinner.

He would make sure that Hades and Persephone were nice to her. He knew that she could absolutely handle them because she just couldn't give a shit about the gods, but he'd do it to take another thing off of her plate. The less she worries, the less he worries about her.

When she finds out that Nico liked Percy, she laughs at him. Definitely making fun of him for his taste.

Once Nico gets over Percy and gets with Will, she is a nuisance in the Apollo cabin. They're her new siblings.

She screams every time she enters the Hades cabin, announcing her presence. She walked in on Nico and Will making out one time and now she refuses to let them forget it.

He pretends to be annoyed by her, but really he finds her endearing. He even laughs at her jokes on occasion. Then she'll jump up and down, making sure everyone knows that she made Nico Di Angelo laugh.

He'll swat at her jokingly, but making sure not to actually hit her, not even lightly. He was born in the 30's. His mother definitely taught him to never raise his hand against a woman. He probably doesn't swear in her presence either.

She'd joke about all the terrible things that have happened to her. Though in the middle of the night, she'd wake up screaming from a nightmare. Nico would stay up all night with her, sitting in silence so she knows that she's safe. He wouldn't want to talk about it, but he would be there no matter what.

She'd act so mad at him when he goes to Tartarus both times. Slightly scared that he wouldn't come back, slightly upset that he didn't invite her. Very impressed that he survived Tartarus twice. She absolutely threatens to throw herself in to prove that she's just as strong as him.

"Do not. Our father will catch you before you even get to the underworld."

"Nah, he won't. If you could sneak past him, so can I."

"He let me through."

"So you admit that you couldn't have gotten past him?"

"That is not what I said."

She laughs, "Awh, little baby Nico can't get past his daddy!"

"I will send you down there permanently."

"You wouldn't. You love me"

[mccoyquialisms]

I think it's pretty clear that the Rat Grinders didn't kill Lucy purposefully. Partly because of what we learned about how the rage kills, but mostly because I can't see Brennan making a bunch of loser 15 year olds cold-hearted killers (well...maybe Kipperlilly). They may have done so accidentally in self defense vs Lucy essentially killing herself with rage, that part remains unclear. However, I do think that the subsequent coverup has absolutely been deliberate. I think that prior to Lucy's death, the Rat Grinders were involved in trying to revive the rage god and things got out of hand. I don't think they became involved out of love for the thing itself. More likely, they have their own individual motivations that were played upon by someone else, which is why their actions seem so weird and disparate. Ruben and his sudden transition into emo fame; Kipperlilly and her bid for power in the school/revenge against the bad kids for being idk cooler than her I guess; Buddy and his clear attempts to establish his grandfather in the school to spread the word of Sol....I'm sure with more digging compelling motives for Mary Ann, Oisin and Ivy will be found. I can even see Lucy originally being for it if she thought they were a sibling of her god that had once been a benevolent force and potentially could be one again. 

I think an opportunistic adult/adults who seek to bring back this god probably used the Rat Grinders, selling them a chance to have their dreams come true AND one-up their rivals by recreating one of the bad kid's primary achievements: reviving a dead god. That same person could now be threatening them with revealing their hand in Lucy's death to ensure their continued cooperation. I do think the Rat Grinders have a 'divide and conquer' approach where not all of them have the same amount or same type of information (i.e. Kipperlilly excluding Oisin from obtaining the arcano-tech), which is why some of them come off as less suspicious than the others, but I don't think any of them are innocent. It would be pretty bizarre for your party member to die in the tutorial level woods at school and have absolutely no desire to probe deeper into that. The fact that absolutely none of them have indicated they looked for Lucy after her disappearance and immediately replaced her is NOT a good look. If I had to pick a mastermind of the group who has all the information as the primary planner, my money is on Kipperlilly. 

I don't have a clear suspect for the adult influence but Jace Stardiamond has come up wayy too many times in seemingly disparate instances for my comfort. I admit to a lack of motive as of now, but we also barely know anything about the guy, so I'm hoping new information will come to light. I am intrigued by the theory that Porter may be a paladin of this god, knowingly or unknowingly, but I also don't think it's necessarily automatically a bad thing. His thoughts on rage seem very...balanced? I could honestly see him being an adherent of what perhaps was the god's original aspect, rage as a warm presence and a shield, or someone who hopes to return that god to that aspect. I have a hard time seeing him as the type of mastermind that a convoluted plan like this requires, but I won't rule him out as a foot soldier. Lola Embers I've been side eyeing but if Ruben is her new darling, I can imagine him asking her to request the venue of the festival be at the Thistlesprings and that's the end of her involvement. Henry Hopclap is also not above suspicion given his relation to Ruben and the fact that the arcano-tech under the stage seemed pretty advanced (none of the Rat Grinders strike me as particularly talented artificiers capable of something like that), but I'll admit other than that I've got nothing on him.

Ultimately, while Ruben released something incredibly powerful with his ritual, it was clearly merely a first step in a longer plan. Given all the "random" rage outbursts and what we found out at the farm, I'm betting that the rituals performed so far have been to literally poison the earth, leading to everyone in the area breathing in the rage cocaine, therefore expanding this god's influence and making it easier for them to anchor themselves to the material plane. They're going to most likely recreate the ritual Bakur attempted but in the correct place, the school gym, as that is where YES! was created during prom. The real mystery right now is exactly how far are they into this plan, and is it already too late to stop it?

[luvergirl777]

For All the Multiverses | O’Hara

Pairing | Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Word Count | 7k, not too bad. 

Genre | Smut, kind of enemies to lovers if you squint hard. 

Summary | Miguel is an ass, through and through. There’s almost nothing that can convince you otherwise, the constant nagging, perfectionism, micromanaging, and passive aggressive comments fueling your rage. After a dumb remark, you’re done with him, done with all of it. 

Index | Submissive Miguel, soft dom reader I guess, biting (a bit of blood but nothing too crazy), bickering, dumb fighting, a bit of violence but not too bad (normal spider-people stuff.)

“It’s rude to stare, y’know?” You ask, voice absolutely dripping sarcasm with every single word. You can feel his eyes, your senses tingling throughout your body as his eyes bore into you from the top of his little platform. He’s been easily staring for 10 minutes now, glaring daggers at you as you try to work. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?” 

He simply lets out a tsk noise, clearly not entertaining your conversation any further. “You should get back to work,” Miguel grunts, and you can practically feel his eyes roll as he turns back around to his projections. You’re not sure why he resents you so much, you’re pretty literally only here to help catch anomalies, literally his sole purpose in life. 

“You should too, you’re supposed to be leading a capture in less than 3 minutes withhh, one sec, Gwen, Peter B, and maybe Jess if you need the backup. Spider-cat is also down to come with Jess if you’d like,” You inform him, once again getting on his nerves without even really trying. Truly, you practically do what Lyla’s designed to do. However, with anomalies popping up more frequently and unpredictability, she needs all the help she can get. 

“I know, I don’t need you to tell me.” Miguel grits out.

“Well, you should get a move on because the rest of the team has been waiting on you for 5 minutes now, but I'm sure you know th-“ 

“Ay mierda,” And before you are able to get another cheap shot in he’s towering over you at your desk, “No micro-managing my mission, got it y/l/n?” his tone is deadly serious, vaguely threatening. Still, you refuse to give in to his constant fear-mongering bullshit, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. If there’s one thing you’re going to do in your time at the spider society, it’s putting Miguel in his place even if it’s just a little. 

“Sir yes sir, Mr O’Hara sir,” You give him a stupid salute, purposely looking dumb to mock him. He leaves with an exaggerated sigh, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t quite catch. You probably don’t want to, you’re sure it’s a string of curses. With a giggle, you immediately turn on your surveillance and begin overseeing the mission. “Lyla?” She pops up in front of you, bubbly and bright as ever. 

“Yes?” She beams, walking around in her little artificial intelligence world. She’s the only other lively thing around here, and you’re grateful for her presence after dealing with Miguel all day. 

“Can I have this mission? Pretty pretty please?? With a cherry on top?” You begin to beg, pressing your hands together and shaking them towards her to see. 

“Well…I suppose Miguel never put in an official request on who monitors this mission. So I suppose I wouldn’t be going against any orders…” She trails off, thinking for a brief moment, “But if anyone asks, I was super busy!!” She exclaims, immediately running off to make herself busy so she has the excuse. It makes you giggle, turning back around to watch your projections spread around your desk. You hate that you share an office space with Miguel, but at least he’s in the air away from you. 

They’re getting their asses kicked, genuinely. You can tell that they don’t know the anomaly they’re going against, constantly getting tricked by the changing of shapes, colors, forms, and even states of matter. Dragging a hand along your face, you quickly ping Peter B’s watch with a message to help them. 

Don't tell O’Hara I’m here yet, but the anomaly glows under ultraviolet light. Think glowing like a scorpion !!! 

Finally, things begin to click as Peter uses his watch to shine the light around to detect it. With a small smile, you pat yourself on the back. Still, while it’s now easier to find it’s not any easier to catch. You almost itch for Miguel to call it, eyes switching between cameras just in case you miss it. 

“Call for backup.” Miguel groans, eyes narrowed more than before in his mask. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Your voice fills his ear and he immediately drops his head, hand coming to rub his forehead as he fights off many choice words. He sits like that for a second as he recomposes himself. 

“God, can't you hear?? I said call-“ 

“Already there.” You hang up, and a loud click right after you finish your last word. (AKA before Miguel can give you any more shit.) Truthfully? You have nothing against him. In fact, you think his combat and intelligence are admirable beyond compare. However, you refuse to be afraid like almost everyone else that comes to help. You don’t understand it, yeah he’s kinda scary because of his authority, but at the same time, he does the same thing as anyone else. Everyone is here to help, and the snarkiness and ego he has is beyond your grasp despite it all. You just so happen to have the pleasure to work right beside him. 

Miguel was avoidant from the get-go, constantly denying the fact that they needed any more help. He can do it on his own, he’s got everything under control, he doesn’t need a set of eyes looking at him, etc, etc, etc. Even when Lyla appeared and gave a very timid “Actually we really would benefit from the help-“ She was promptly hung up on. (She then flashed her message on all of the holograms and projections in the room out of spite.) But still, Miguel was relentless in his belief that he had everything under control. This continued for a long time, however, there was a brief moment where the two of you got along well. 

You’re not sure what really happened, how it even started. The two of you began going on missions together, catching a record number of anomalies for the month with ease. Along with this, you two fell into a routine in no time. He’d get coffee in the mornings, leaving yours on your desk as he was always in way earlier than you. You’d get lunch for the both of you, bringing Miguel his food as it’s rare he’d really leave for long, let alone to eat. It was nice, very nice. 

Small conversations in passing turned into hour-long debates about anything and everything, friendly debates. These ranged from which lunch was the best from the cafeteria, all the way to the legitimacy of how the multiverse works. You thought the Miguel Burger was the best (and most funny), he loves the empanadas. He thought the multiverse was do-or-die at all times, you believe there have to be SOME exceptions in a multiverse of infinite possibilities. Through the small banters and discussions, you had actually learned a lot more about each other than you ever expected. In times you couldn’t agree, you two settled on a truce and no hard feelings. You both genuinely respected the other's opinion because you had enough respect for one another in general. 

Besides from office encounters, you had even started “coincidentally” running into each other during night surveillance. He scared you at first as you snuck through the hall, a giant figure also popping out of his room. After the initial fright and a very over-exaggerated gasp from you, the two of you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation for a solid five minutes. He had spooked you so bad you even pulled your mask on, struggling to peel it back off through your laughter.  “What are you doing, O’Hara, do you know what time it is?!” You whispered in between giggles, unable to hold them back. 

He responded with a giant smile on his face, the lack of sleep probably going to his head finally. “I should ask you the same thing!” Afterward, you two snuck into the cafeteria kitchen to make a snack. The two of you made food, humming songs and passing ingredients back and forth with very little verbal communication needed. You two even entertained the idea of sneaking one of the projectors back for a movie, but you both decided you needed some sort of rest before morning duty started. 

Another fond memory was his birthday one year. He never celebrates, never even thinks about allowing himself to. You initially bribed Lyla to tell you, and when she wouldn’t, you did some totally legal background stalking to find out. Walking into the office with a cake on his desk, obnoxious balloons, and streamers all over the office, and your frame hiding behind said desk ready to sing happy birthday, your plan was in full swing. Admittedly he was reluctant to even let you celebrate, clamping a palm over your mouth once you began singing. Slowly but surely he warmed up, made a birthday wish, and blew out his candles. 

“Happy birthday Captain!!!” You’re over the top and obnoxious, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him around in his chair. Still, he offers you a genuine smile as you continue your birthday antics. Getting his favorite lunch and dinner, hand-delivering them to his desk, the whole nine yards. 

It’s not until dinner that he told you why, “The last birthday I had, was with my daughter.” Miguel mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “I know, it’s silly but I just wanted to remember it with her.” 

Guilt instantly eats at your heart and brain, immediately feeling bad for everything. You hadn’t even considered the reason why he didn’t celebrate, “I’m really sorry I didn’t know-“ You’re quick to offer your support, reaching out and holding his forearm in your palm. 

“But this is really nice!” He interrupts your apology, flipping his arm over so he can also hold your arm near your elbow, “Really thoughtful and kind, I genuinely really appreciate you, y/n.” 

Don’t even get going on the one Father’s Day you had gotten him a small gift. It wasn’t intentional, you had been at the store to get Peter a cake for him, Mayday, and MJ. Something cute with #1 Dad!! With a silly hero design in the background that you know Peter and Mayday would like. However, while you were in the store Miguel popped up into your mind. With an uncertainty that could rival god, you bit the bullet and also got him a smaller cake with happy father’s Day written across the top. 

You had found Peter in the cafeteria, bothering Miguel with who knows what as he just tried to get his food and then leave. As soon as you gave the cake to Peter, Miguel leaves instantly, a painful reminder he didn’t need right now. Peter and Mayday thank you, and Peter jokingly smears a dollop of frosting across Mayday‘s nose. With a small smile, you excuse yourself to track down where Miguel went. “Captain?” Your voice is quiet and unsure as you walk into the office, trying to see if he’s up on the platform or not. 

You get no response before you’re swinging up there, unsure of where else he would’ve gone. Sure enough, he’s sitting, hunched over facing away from you. “I brought you something, you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to I suppose.” You try to speak as softly as possible, minimizing the echo in the office. Placing it down in front of him, he picks his head up just the slightest bit to see what it is. Instantly, he lurches up and you think you’ve seriously done it now, stepped a bit too far over the boundary that you already crossed. 

Instead of being chewed out, he instantly pulls you to him, wrapping you in his arms. “Thank you.” He mumbles, clearly trying to avoid voice cracking. You let the silence comfort the two of you, too scared to talk in case it sends Miguel over the edge he was so desperately trying to come back from. It’s nice, your arms wrapping around his waist and holding him close. 

Everything seemed to be going positive and only up in your friendship, you two were happy and well-working co-workers. However, this promptly ended when you slipped up during a mission, made a dumb move for someone else, and got hurt pretty badly. 

You, Jess, and Miguel were fighting together to catch a doc-ock from about 100 years in the future (from Miguel’s world anyway.) Jess had slipped just as razor-sharp blades were flying toward her. What would’ve originally hit her stomach, was not going for her throat. Without a second thought, you had jumped in front of her to avoid the for-sure deadly strike. It caught your ribs, slicing deep to the bone. Jess sprung up, grabbing you and opening a portal without a second thought and leaving Miguel behind. “Fuck, fuck Jess, hurts bad.” You groan, hands flying to your wound in a feeble attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. It soaks everything it touches, your hand completely red and your forearm soon to be.

In a blur, you’re rushed to the medic bay and onto a bed. The entire time, you’re groaning, writhing in pain. “What were you thinking?!” His voice is unmistakable as he storms into the med bay, quickly finding his spot next to your bed as he accesses the damage you took. “Stupid, stupid move, y/n. Idiotic, even.” He’s mumbling more that you can’t quite catch, and you’re too out of it to even try and understand the broken Spanish. “Can't believe you two.” 

Jess cries next to you, holding your hand where it rests on the bed. “Jess would’ve died.” You grit as his hand presses against your wound to slow the bleeding, making you cry out. “Captain!” You scream, hands flying to grab his wrists as you continue to writhe. It’s bad, your hands instinctively clawing at his forearms to try and get him away even for a moment. Easily overpowering you, he doesn’t let up. 

“I know, I know I'm sorry, mi sol.” His words fall on deaf ears as you scream. The pain is unbearable as you go in and out of consciousness, doing your best to remain conscious of Jess’s emotional state. You’re completely out as you get stitched and cleaned up, your body is completely spent and your adrenaline begins to wear off.

The very first time you wake up, Miguel is next to you. His forehead rests on his palms, hunched over in the chair next to you. Your voice is too weak, so you simply reach out and take hold of his arm. “Menos mal que estás bien.” His voice is soft as he takes your hand in his, holding it up to his forehead. “You’re okay,” Miguel mumbles, pulling your hand down a bit to his cheek. You smile, flattening your hand to hold the side of his face in your palm.

“Sorry,” You speak, and he gives you a confused look at what you could be apologizing for. “About your arm, and fucking up the mission.” There are scratches all along his forearm, and you’re about 90% positive it had to be from you. 

“No, no. Don’t even worry about anything.” He speaks, shuffling slightly to stand up. Miguel places your hand gently back down to your stomach. “And what I said about that mission, that was just- I was-“ He can't even finish what he wants to tell you. 

“Please don’t leave me.” You mumble, realizing that he’s definitely about to run away. Miguel huffs heavily, his chest rising and falling. He has a sorry look on his face, and you know him well enough to know he’s not sticking around long. Leaning down, he wraps you in his arms, holding you close and protectively to his chest. It hurts, bad, but you’re not going to tell him as you soak it in. “O’Hara,” Tears cloud your vision. 

“I’m sorry, y/l/n.” And just like that, he’s disappearing. Recovery is a bitch, worse than the initial injury. You’re grateful for everyone visiting you in the med bay, but not once do you see Miguel even for a status update. 

Since then, he’s completely detached again. No longer leaving you coffee, ignores the lunch you bring him every day, not entertaining any of your conversations. You’re somehow completely back to the day you joined. 

Due to this incident, you naturally brush against each other, butting heads on almost everything now. This continued for a while, still remaining relevant here and there to this day. You can see Miguel shake his head as Jess and spider cat come in, they need all the help they can get, before he springs into action again. He’s scary, with fangs, claws, and running on all fours now. Maybe you’ve ticked him off a bit too much. you make a mental note to “STFU when O’Hara gets back” out of fear you’ve created this. (Not an uncommon occurrence.) 

With Jess and Spider Cat, they’re able to wrangle up the remaining anomalies and come back to HQ. The door slamming open startles you, and the mental note you made earlier is in full swing, sirens and all going off in your head. Your lips are sealed more than ever. You can feel his glances, before he quickly turns away, just to look back at you. He’s working himself up to chew your ass out, for sure. This is usually the look that he gives to Hobie when he’s being an idiot. The only thing you can do is turn your gaze down and continue searching through the multiverse for anything unusual. 

“Really? Really, you did the one thing I told you not to do?” Miguel carries on and you’re sure he’s pacing the platform as usual, “¿Por qué? ¿Por qué sigo dando órdenes?“ (Why? Why do I keep giving orders?) He continues to get himself going. 

You don’t know what to say to possibly make the situation better, so you continue your work. “Oh? And now you’re just not gonna talk to me, huh? I see how it is, ya veo cómo es.” (I see how it is.)

“I figured I was helping, O’Hara.” You spit, moving your screens aside to glare up at him. “You know?? Doing the one thing I’m here for? I don’t understand why you think me helping the team is somehow to spite you.” His eyes are beginning to turn red and you’re quick to flash your projections up once more to avoid the glare that is surely targeted at you. Your suit suddenly feels too right around the neck, strangling you. 

“Hmm, hmm.” Miguel nods, turning around on his platform and giving you the silent treatment from here on out. Eventually, he would break, you’re sure of it, have to ask you for something eventually. To your dismay, you’re the first one that has to break the silence in the suffocating room. 

“There's an anomaly on Earth 295-“ 

“Go get it. Since you want to micromanage anyways, you got it.” It’s not encouragement at all, the opposite really. With an exasperated sigh, you get up from your desk and begin to make your way out into the lobby. Rounding up a group of people, you set off to catch the anomaly. It’s easy, a routine capture before you’re dragging the man back through your portal. With another sigh, you shove open the doors to your shared office and plop down into your chair. No other words are exchanged for the rest of the day, the two of you doing your work while passing another in silence. 

You wish you could work alongside Lyla in her artificial intelligence database. Clocking out for the night, you’re preparing to open your portal and crash land somewhere in your city. Anything is better than being here. “I need you to stay tonight for overnight surveillance.” Miguel breaks the silence just as you’re about to press the open button, your arms immediately falling to your sides and your head was thrown back. 

“Fuck you, O’Hara.” You groan, leaving your office and heading up to the overnight dorms to begin your night surveillance. God, you hate him. You joined the society to make the universe better, all of the multiverses better, not to be picked on by some oversized man in a tight-ass hologram suit. Plopping down at your desk in the dorm, you curse O’Hara out in your head. Scanning through your brain, there’s literally nothing you can think of to make the situation better. He simply hates you because he can’t handle everything on his own, you’re sure he’s just projecting but it’s infuriating regardless. The whole night, every second of the surveillance shift, you become more and more irritated. 

It’s 7 am when you crawl out of your dorm, running on 5 minutes of accidental sleep and spite. You’re technically supposed to be at your desk at 7, but at this point who cares. If he says one thing, one single thing to you, “You know you’re 3 minutes late-“ And you’re ripping off your watch and hurling it at his head. Miguel, spider sense less, doesn’t feel it coming and gets absolutely clobbered in the side of the head. You hope it bleeds, truly, as your chest heaves. 

“Fuck, you, O’Hara,” You grit, turning around and beginning to make your way out of the stupid office, away from his stupid little platform, and his stupid little dramatic face. Like an idiot, he chases, “All I do is fucking help you, stick my neck out for these missions, bust my ass, and nothing. You take the credit and I get yelled at for helping.” You're beyond angry, fists clenched at your side- 

“Just put your watch back on estúpida, you’re gonna glitch-“ He watches as you do just that, never crumbling or falling as you turn to glare at him. Scary, that was scary. He’s never seen someone withstand their literal atoms glitching, let alone being so angry they’re able to move also. Still on you’re feet, Miguel ignores the smart part of his brain that tells him to move away from you. 

“All because pretty boy,” You’re stepping closer to him, and Miguel takes all the strength in his body to not cower away from you. Forcing himself to stand tall like always, he takes whatever you’re about to give him, finger digging into his chest, “Can’t take the fact that he can’t control everything. Pushes everyone away, would rather the multiverse weaken than admit he needs some fuckin help, and everyone just believes it. Holds their heads high with the assumption everything is fine, they’re doing their job, getting their pats on the back. It’s such a shame you’re so attractive O’Hara, because it’s ruined by that fucking personality of yours.” Maybe you’re being too mean, but if you don’t say it no one else ever will. At the commotion, a few heads begin to look over at the two of you. 

“Can we please talk, in private, where people aren’t staring at us-“ 

“I’m going home. I’m going through that stupid freaky spider machine, that has a stupid name by the way, and leaving the team,” You say, definitive as you tear yourself away from Miguel and began the trek towards Margo’s office (essentially.) 

“Can we please talk like adults, y/n?” Miguel still follows, this time grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you back harder than he really meant to. He’s strong, much stronger than you, so it’s no surprise that you almost fly backward into his chest. He catches you by the waist, only making your anger bubble more. Glaring up at him, you can see a flash of emotion rush across his face before it’s gone just as fast. “Please, y/n.” 

Miguel isn’t a beggar, never has been, in fact, you can’t even remember if you’ve ever heard him say please before now. “To the office?” You force a grin as the group of eyes on the two of you continues to grow. Miguel offers you a polite nod, placing your watch back on your wrist before allowing you to lead the way. With an annoyed grunt, you eventually make it back to your desk, plopping down in the chair. “If you go up to your platform to talk to me, I’m opening a portal and leaving. Before you even get a word in,” You warn him. 

Miguel walks over with an annoyed sigh, rubbing the wrinkle in between his brows out. “y/n please stay, we need all the help we can-“ His words are cut short as your lurch forward, roughly grabbing his face in your hand. His cheeks are squished together as your fingertips dig into his skin, spinning around. You easily knock him back into the chair you were previously sitting at. “¡Joder! ¡De acuerdo!” (Ah fuck! Okay Okay!)

“Now you need me? All of a sudden, now you need the help.” You hiss, caging him in as you step closer, fingertips digging in even more with each word. You’re basically leaning over him, one of his knees slipping between your legs without even realizing it. Miguel’s hands reach up, timidly wrapping around your wrist in an attempt to calm you down or at least loosen the grip you have on him. 

“Cálmate dulce chica, podemos hablar de esto.” (Calm down sweet girl, we can talk about this.) Miguel offers, a small whimper falling from his lips as he realizes how close you are to him, essentially hovering over his lap. “y/n please-“ It’s nothing short of sin, a loud whine falling past his lips as his hands fly to meet your waist. His big hands almost wrap around you entirely, if he squeezed his fingertips would probably touch together. 

“You’re getting off to this? Really Miguel?” Another groan falls from his lips, you never call him Miguel. Never, it’s always O’Hara or some stupid nickname you picked up from the kids because you thought they were funny. There’s a small smirk on your face, making Miguel’s eyes narrow with lust as it’s clear you’re very amused by his situation. His mind almost melts as you finally sit, your knees on either side of his hips. You fill his senses, judgment beginning to cloud as your smell fills his nose and voice his ears. “You are, huh?” You draw out, the slightest bit of humor behind your voice. 

“You’re just, ah fuck, so pretty when you’re yelling at me,” Miguel speaks, a bit muffled as you haven’t released him yet from your grip. Finally, you let go of his cheeks, leaving behind faint red dots where your fingertips once were. “So soft, warm,” He continues as his mind becomes fuzzier by the second, hands pawing at your suit material. He wants nothing more than for it to be gone right now and for a brief moment, he thinks about ripping through it. He can give you one like his, yeah, he thinks as he rationalizes. 

“You gonna be good? Let me see you?” You mumble and break his train of thought, hands trailing over his suit that is technically molecules that he’s learned to manipulate over the years. With a small nod, he removes the fabric where your hands trail, leaving open skin for you to touch. The rest of his suit remains intact, only his front opening for you. “Naughty naughty,” You tease at his lack of underwear or boxers, ghosting your fingers across his head to tease him even more. Without explanation, you climb off his lap and step away. 

“y/n? Fuck, what’s wrong-“ His worry ceases as you begin pulling your suit off, the skin-tight fabric being dropped on the desk space next to you. “Oh Dios, vas a ser mi muerte.” (Oh god, you’re going to be the death of me.) He knows you don’t understand Spanish fluently, only picking up bits and pieces of his expressions. In this case, you caught death and that’s about all you understood. 

“You know I don’t understand, Miguel.” You tease as you crawl back onto his lap only in a bra and panties, seated securely on his big thighs. Leaning forward, your hands find their place naturally in his hair. “Let’s talk like adults, hm?” You mock him from earlier, a sick smirk spread fully across your face. “Go ahead, tell me everything you wanted to earlier, or else I’m taking my watch off and going home~” You almost sing song, soaking in the hint of misery it gives him. 

“I just wanted to say- haaaa fuck,” You catch Miguel off guard as your lips find his jaw, hot kisses soon spreading down to his neck. You mark him thoroughly, you wanna leave a part of yourself with him. 

“C'mon, O’Hara, or I'm leaving.” You continue to warn. 

“I, we need you here. I know I’ve been, shit shit,” His train is thrown off as you press yourself closer to him, pinning his cock in between your stomachs as your hips search for friction, “Mean to you recently. It’s just because, ah ah, I liked you. But I couldn’t express this because of our circumstances. And when you got hurt, it scared me because I realized how much you actually meant to me. So instead of liking you I thought hating you would push you away and it would eventually dissipate. But you’re so stubborn it only made things worse because you refused to go to a different department at least.” 

“I see.” You barely give him a response as you suck dark hickeys into his chest, peering up at him to catch his expression. “Miguel, let me ride your fingers,” He groans, nodding his head as his palm slides closer to where you need him. 

One of his palms remains on your waist, the heat spreading from his hand to your body. It feels as if you’re on fire, blood molten lava as it flows throughout your body. As much as you’ve hated him recently, he’s still incredibly attractive. And to have him this pliant and finally following your instructions? An added bonus. Your breath hitches as he runs across your clit, running across the small bead as your hips reactively pick themselves up to give him better access. 

“Fuck, so pretty like this, finally listening to my instructions,” You fill the silence, hands falling to hold Miguel’s head in them. “You gonna let me kiss you, O’Hara? Or is that too intimate for you?” 

“I want nothing more, please do.” He groans as you immediately lean forward, lips clashing as you starve for a taste of him. He kisses you back with a matched fury, his palm siding up to hold your torso against him. He swallows your moans as he begins his ministrations, sinking his middle finger completely into you. The kiss is messy, the only thing grounding you as he inserts another finger, expertly finding what makes you tick. Tongues pressing against tongues, lips swollen, moans, and panting breaths mix together. 

“Close, O’Hara,” You warn, “If you stop, I’ll kill you,” A genuine threat as your grip falls to his neck, loosely choking him. It makes him whine, more focused on pleasing you more than ever now. Your hips begin meeting his hand, chasing a high you so desperately need now. You’re soaked, the sound bouncing off the office walls surely embarrassing beyond belief if you were thinking straight. Your free hand finds Miguel’s lips, thumb brushing along his lips and revealing his canines, giant fangs that stick out farther than his other teeth. “Coming,” You whine, losing your grip on him almost entirely as your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, riding out your high. 

“C'mon, cum for me. So pretty, y/n, shaking around my hand.” Miguel encourages you, thoroughly prolonging your orgasm as he targets the spot inside and your poor aching clit. He stops only when your hips drop, no longer able to withstand the abuse. “Fuck, so pretty y/n, all for me,” Miguel continues, pulling you close as your lips reconnect, this time rough. Your hands pull his hair harshly, head tilting back as he whines into your mouth. 

“Gonna ride your pretty cock, get myself off,” You mumble into his mouth, causing him to groan in response. Miguel’s more than happy to let you, puppy dog eyes and all as you pull yourself away from him. He’s big, and you’re sure you’re not completely stretched as much as you’d like but you’re in too deep now. Lining yourself up, it’s a rough start. Miguel’s hands fly to your waist, not pushing but simply squeezing as his head falls back. His face is squeezed hard, whines falling past soft lips before he can think to stop them. “So big, fuck fuck,” Whimpering, you sink slowly inch by inch as you will yourself to take him. 

“Shit y/n. fuck, haaa fuck fuck, tight,” Miguel babbles, unable to hold it back. Taking the last few inches, you lean forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, desperately needing something to hold onto. “So good, please move, please feels good, so deep,” Miguel feels like his mind is melting, completely pussy drunk as he shamelessly begs for you. You grind against him, trying to get a feel for how big he is before you hurt yourself. Rolling your hips slightly, you effortlessly pull moans from the both of you. 

Your bodies are completely pressed together as you pick your hips up and slam them down, body heat suffocating but so good at the same time. Your face finds itself in Miguel’s neck, moans and whines being muffled into his skin. Miguel holds onto you for dear life, almost bruising the skin underneath his fingers. Your pace is brutal, once again chasing your high with no other regard in mind. His hands begin to hurt, definitely bruising the skin underneath. 

“O’Hara.” Your tone is pissed off as you rip his hands away, webbing them to the armrests on either side of you. He could easily rip them, you’re sure, but he won’t, another thing you’re sure of. “Stupid boy, getting rode and doesn’t know what to do with himself,” You taunt, almost feeling his cock jump. It feels too good, he feels too good as he instinctively curls in on himself. “C’mon, don’t get shy on me.” You taunt, wedging your feet on the inside of his thighs and spreading them. 

“Your stupid boy,” He babbles back, picking his head up more fully to watch how you use him, relentlessly fucking him. “So good, so pretty.” He can see the tip of his cock in your stomach, bordering crazy he’s sure. His fists ball at his sides, doing his best to be good. “Gonna cum soon, you feel too good.” 

“Hmm, I’m not stopping until I cum.” You warn him graciously. You’re about 95% sure it goes in one ear and out the other, too distracted to fully register your words. “Do what you want, Mig, just remember that.” Once again, he definitely doesn’t comprehend as he eagerly nods at the approval. 

As his high approaches, his hips begin grinding up into you, chasing his own release. You allow it, having already warned him more times than you should’ve. “Coming, nghhh ahh fuck, fuck,” And he does, hips driving forward as he cums as deep as possible. You entertain it, sinking down fully and grinding against him as you coax him through it. You can feel his thighs shake underneath you as his hips rest back down on the chair, head thrown back as his chest heaves. 

“Oh, Mig, sweet boy.” You tease, voice flowing through his ears like honey. “I haven’t cum yet.” Finally, you’re getting through to him as you pick your hips back up, dropping down with a wet smack. 

“y/n, wait! Shit, fuck, nhghhhh ah ah,” Miguel is so overstimulated, thighs shaking slightly as his hips buck. You’re once again chasing your high, using him completely as your toy now. “Please I can’t-“ Tears prick his eyes as his head picks up to meet yours, muscles flexed as he pulls against his restraints. Your grip meets his throat, stopping his whining momentarily. 

“I warned you, be good for me and sit still,” You mumble, your free hand reaching for his mouth once again. ”Been so mean to me, so mean Miguel, need to use you. Need to punish you.” You bite into his shoulder, muffling yourself. His whines and moans are nonstop, the overstimulation driving him crazy. Eventually, you pull your head back, finding another sensation to play with. Wedging your fingers into his mouth, Miguel thinks his mind is going to melt. Your fingers run across his fangs, testing the sharpness on the pads of your index and middle. Much to your surprise, (not really), they easily prick the skin and cause blood. Miguel’s tongue is quick to soothe over the two pricks, earning him a loud moan as you run your fingers across his tongue. “My dumb boy, all pussy drunk, overstimulated, just so stupid, hmm?” 

“Yes, yes,” Is all he can manage with your two fingers in his mouth, beginning to fuck them against his tongue in speed with your own hips. It’s obscene, but the sight makes you clench tightly around his cock, earning you even louder whines. There’s saliva dripping now, so messy as he allows you to do as you please. 

“Fuck, gonna cum. Gonna cum for you, Miguel.” Your thighs are growing tired, Miguel doing his best to pick up the slack and thrust up into you. “Cumming~” It’s barely a warning as your head falls forward, thighs shaking and clamping down around Miguel’s hips. He does his best to prolong it, thrusting up with the limited movement you allow him, soon spilling inside you once more as you’re just so tight. 

As you come to, your hips pick themselves up and down a couple more times, fucking his cum into you. “No more, please, no mas, no mas, por favor mami,” (No more, no more, please mami.) Miguel cries, tears slipping as the overstimulation is too much. Your hips still with him still inside, chests heaving as the both of you fight to catch your breaths. Your hands are quick to meet his cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that fall. Leaning forward to kiss the tear stains, Miguel whines as you slide along him. 

“Look at you, absolutely covered in cum, spit, sweat,” You smile, slowly picking your hips up and climbing off his lap. Everything aches, but you’re so satisfied as you wobble over to your suit. Picking it up, you opt for carrying it rather than fighting it over your sticky skin. Miguel looks like the epitome of sex as he remains in the chair, still struggling to recover. “Miguel, you okay?” Your voice is much gentler now, walking over and placing a kiss on his forehead. He nods as you rip through your webs for him, freeing him of his restraints. You offer a soft peck which he takes gratefully, your fingers coming to rub his scalp where you had been tugging at his hair. 

“Miguel?” Carefully climbing into his lap again, you drop your suit over the armrest. “My boy, are you alright?” You pull him close to you, holding his head against your chest as you massage his scalp. You hold him until he comes down fully, placing soft kisses on his forehead and tear-stained cheeks. 

“Yes, mi corazón. Are you okay? Feeling okay?” His hands meet your waist where he had been previously squeezing, rubbing the soon-to-be bruised skin. 

“More than okay.” With one final reassurance peck to his lips, you stand back up fully and grab your suit. You're exhausted, both from night duty and today's festivities, and it’s clear there is no way you’re going to be able to work today. “I’m gonna go home and get some sleep, I had the night shift last night.” The reminder pains Miguel that he really asked you to do that out of spite. “You’re more than welcome to follow, or swing by later.” You offer, tapping on your watch until you carefully open a portal inside your apartment. 

Glancing back once more, Miguel looks cute as he watches you go, suit fully formed once again. You wonder how that works with all the liquid on his skin, but you opt to ask another time. 

“I’ll stop by later,” He offers, not missing the way your face falls slightly. He quickly climbs to his feet, “I just have a couple of things to do here, otherwise I would, I really would trust me.” Miguel explains, big frame easily engulfing you into a hug. His cheer-up protocol works, putting a small smile on your face as you look up at him. 

“I’ll see you later, spidey,” You beam, leaning forward onto your tip-toes to kiss him. He meets you halfway, indulging you. With one final glance back, you step through the portal, waving bye as it closes. 

“I’ll be there!” He promises just as it closes, leaving you two technically universes apart from one another. 

~~~

Hours later, the sound of his portal is unmistakable in your small one-bedroom apartment as it fills the silence and shakes the walls. Peeking your head out of the hall into your living room, his giant frame looks a bit silly in the small area. Nevertheless, the giant smile that spreads across your face is priceless. “You actually came!” You speak, spooking him slightly as you step out from behind the hall wall. 

“What? Of course.” He scoffs, welcoming you with open arms when you approach him. He must’ve gone home and cleaned up, hair seemingly damp and a glow that only a warm shower could give radiating from him. “I wouldn’t miss this for all the multiverses.” 

[vykker]

Oddworld Headcanon 2/?: Where do new Queens come from?

In Soulstorm we're introduced to the Keeper, a female mudokon who is a little old granny with an awesome and cute design. I was so delighted by her!! This got me thinking about 2 of my favorite things, Oddworld and Girls. We've known about the existence of queens for a long time, but where do they come from, and is/was the Keeper a queen?

When you start learning about irl animals and their queen systems you end up with a ton of interesting possibilities. For instance, you have queen bees, who are just regular female bees who were fed a special jelly [royal jelly] and put in a special, roomy honeycomb to turn into queen bees. However, hives may have more than one queen at a time, in which case the two young queens instinctively fight to the death.

Soulstorm leans heavily on the bee aesthetic for the keeper & the Sanctum where she resides. It could be that mudokon tribes produce multiple queens, but only the one with the strongest will/chosen by fate gets to become queen. Even though becoming queen doesn't seem so great to me as a human, to mudokons it's probably the highest honor one can earn. I imagine it would be crushing for a female to NOT become a queen, especially if it's something you've been hyped up about your entire life, have presented as being the highest possible achievement and so on.

But getting back to the bee thing- mudokons don't make honey, by which I mean, they probably don't have a chemical way of ensuring an individual is able to become a queen, in the way that bees can choose who gets to eat the royal jelly. [Though, if they could, you KNOW the industrialists would be selling it. I used to work at a store that sold royal jelly for like 50 bucks in a little jar. It was weird.] Thus, I feel it's probably random chance if a mudokon is born a "princess" or not.

Being born a princess does not ensure one will become a queen. The transformation into a queen is probably tied to ritual in mudokon culture regardless of whether it's pure biological randomness or not, and although it would be healthy for a tribe to have a few princesses as insurance rather than one, I also believe NOT being "picked" to be queen can be very depressing and alienating for them. This could be a possible backstory for the Keeper; either 1. she was not chosen to be queen, which she took as a personal failure for many years before devoting herself to becoming the Keeper; or 2. she fled from her tribe in order to NOT become a queen, and suffers from guilt now that her species' only surviving queen is being kept captive & she's way too old to become queen now.

Anyway, I believe you could apply similar logic to the other queen-centric races, HOWEVER, I think things are a little different depending on each queen's species and role in society. For instance, I imagine mudokon queens born of Sam would be highly sought after and prized. However, it would not surprise me if they all fail to become queens, just due to the industrialists failing at meeting their needs in captivity. Even if a princess were kept in relative luxury, being separated from the land and nature would prevent them from ever becoming queens.

I would imagine things as being similar for sligs- however, I personally imagine slig eggs being produced at a much higher rate, since it's mentioned that queen Skillya has 5 ovipositors, so maybe there's less stress around trying to find the next slig queen. Or maybe she can recognize what they are and keeps crushing them on purpose. I think Skillya would feel very threatened by another girl being called "cute" in her presence.

Now glukkons, I believe, actually have it worse out of all options. Lady Margaret is just one glukkon queen- there's implied to be more & its further implied that there are queen glukkons higher up the chain than her. However, I cannot imagine a glukkon queen choosing to share power with an incompetent daughter. Glukkons don't like to share power even in the best of times!

Thus, I believe that when glukkon princesses are born, the queen's in-house surgeons sterilize them temporarily, putting their reproductive organs on ice to completely eliminate the possibility of them starting their own lineages or hijacking the company. Competition between glukkon princesses is UNFATHOMABLY brutal. Whereas their brothers are just competing to become glockstars or whatever, the princesses are competing to become dynasty builders. Thus, a glukkon princess has to bust her ass from the day she's born to impress her mother & torpedo her sisters' efforts. Then, finally, when the current queen is too old to keep working, her favorite daughter is promoted to queen, uterus privilege no longer revoked, the vykkers thaw out her reproductive parts & put her back together again.

This would make Lady Margaret even scarier in my opinion- if her position as queen was not just pure happenstance, if she had to do absolutely atrocious things to her fellow princesses to get where she is today- you'd understand why she grasps on to power so tightly, why she refuses to forgive even the slightest weaknesses in her sons, considering all she has been through to get to where she is today. It would be rather boring if Lady Margaret became a queen just from a biological dice roll, right? Instead, imagine her as a vicious, power-hungry monster who FOUGHT to be queen, with a line of glukkon princesses below her, anxious for her to retire or die already so they can have the ultimate promotion- and she KNOWS it.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts. Since we met the Keeper in Soulstorm I am INCREDIBLY hopeful we will get to meet more girls in future games. I would especially like to meet a no-nonsense 80's style glukkon business woman with shoulder pads, I think I would die of happiness. What are your headcanons for Oddworld's queens? I really wanna hear them!!!

[attackfish]

5 headcanon for Azula is significantly older than Zuko. What happens when Aang is forced? Obviously Zuko would be too young to be banished. But does something happen to Azula? Does she turn to the Avatar to help protect her brother from their father?

Continued from: [Link], [Link], [Link], and [Link].

I presume you mean when Aang is found?

1. When Ursa leaves, her son is a babe in arms. When Aang is found, that same boy is a six year old, learning his first lessons in firebending, and learning to write his first characters. But something is already apparent. He isn't leaping ahead with the lightning speed of his sister at that same age. And that might not have been remarked upon, if not for something else. Little Zuko is... soft. He gets angry and upset when birds of prey kill turtle-crabs on the beach. He tries to sneek abandoned owl cat chicks under his bed, and is distraught when they don't make it, because they were too young. He puts himself on the side of the weak and vulnerable, and tries to protect them from the powerful and from the uncaring universe. And in doing so, he earns his father's scorn.

2. Azula couldn't tell you if it happened gradually or suddenly. She remembers both a sense of sudden dislocation, and change to a new reality, with new rules, and also a gradual creeping dread, as the world, their father's world, shifted around them. All she knows for sure is that one of her very woest fears has come to pass. Zuko is no longer a little ball of potential that she is being measured against at all times. Now he is weak, and pathetic, and she promised. She promised she would protect him, and teach him what he needed to know, and how can she, when their father is so big, and so powerful, and Zuko doesn't even understand what she's trying to teach him, and it makea her so angry, when he just doesn't get it... And she feels like he must have, the day on the beach, with the turtle-crab and the hawk, and she can't help worry that someday her dad will realize she's pathetic and weak too.

3. When the Avatar is first found, he is Zhao's problem. Azula never thought much of Zhao, but by all reports, the Avatar is a twelve year old child with training in only one element. It doesn't occur to her that Zhao will fail to capture him. But he does. Again and again. And after the debacle at the North Pole, Azula finds herself kneeling at her father's feet, telling her it is her turn. She must find and capture the Avatar.

4. And she must capture, or preferably, in her father's eyes, kill, her uncle. Because her uncle disappeared a less than a month ago, and showed right back up, at the North Pole, helping the Avatar and opposing Zhao. Her father is of course outraged at his brother's treason. Azula's thoughts are more tangled. And more wounded. He would leave to help the Avatar, a stranger and an enemy to her people, when he barely deigned to notice his own niece and nephew. And that's the thing, isn't it? Azula's whole life has been marked by the presence of so many people, so many adults, who either didn't notice what her father did to his children, or just let it happen. Her uncle is just one more. Only her mother ever tried to protect her.

5. Azula has to leave her brother behind, in her father's care. Which is why, for her, the goal isn't just to capture the Avatar and deal with her uncle, it's to do it as fast as possible. Which is why she goes to Mai and Ty Lee. And if she has qualms about threatening Mai's baby brother to remind her of what she has to lose? Well, it's her own baby brother on the line.

[peaches2217]

Fuck it! Expectant Parents Mareach post. Putting this one under a Read More to hide my shame. Y'all were warned.

(But actually thank y'all, I wanted to get this out of my system so bad 😭)

✨ The first person Peach tells isn't Mario, but Toadsworth. She wants to surprise Mario with the news and is willing to wait until later in the evening, but she wants her surrogate father to know right away. Mario spends the rest of the day wondering why Toadsworth can't look at him without suddenly having to excuse himself, only to burst into ugly-crying one room over, but he decides it's probably not good.

✨ And of course he's incorrect! The news doesn't come out of nowhere; they've discussed it in the past, and recently they've decided they're ready. Now, when I say recently, I mean recently. The biggest surprise is that she's already pregnant.

✨ "Can't blame a girl for being eager!" Daisy jokes. "Making the baby's the fun part, after all." Before Peach can smack her hand in retribution, Peasley adds in, all too casually, "If the red one is anything like his brother, then I certainly understand that enthusiasm." Peach threatens to revoke their titles of Uncle and Honorary Aunt if they don't stop talking immediately.

✨ You know the ending of the All Stars version of Lost Levels, where Peach covers every surface inch of Mario's face with kisses? Peach ends up on the receiving end of that, a lot. That's his wife! She's carrying their child! She's beautiful and strong and perfect! And if he doesn't kiss her a thousand times right this instant he is going to spontaneously combust! Peach laughs through the entire process because his mustache tickles, and that makes it even better.

✨ Also, her feet like never touch the ground the whole pregnancy. The second she mentions her feet being sore or touches her back with a small wince or even just makes a face that looks anything other than content, Mario scoops her up and carries her wherever it is she's needing to go. She stops trying to protest a month in.

✨ To that end, keeping her comfortable throughout the process is a role Mario not only falls into flawlessly, but absolutely adores. He runs hot bubble baths for her every other night because royal work is taxing when you're simultaneously growing an entire human, he rubs her feet while she eats tiramisu in bed because it's 2AM and she woke up crying she wanted that particular snack so badly, he uses his Firebrand to soothe all of her aches and pains on command, and it's some of the most fulfilling work he feels he's ever done.

✨ They decide eventually that they want their child to know Italian fluently (Peach is still trying to learn it, and what better way than having both a husband and a child to hold her accountable?). So nearly every night, once Peach is comfy in bed, Mario will lay his head on her stomach and have one-sided conversations or sing a few songs; since she doesn't get to hear him speak in his native tongue at length too often unless she requests it, Peach is enraptured the whole time. She even has him teach her a few of the simpler songs so their baby will recognize the language in her voice as well. Any time Mario catches her singing one of those songs to herself, hand on her belly and gentle smile on her face, he melts into a puddle on the spot. Cue the face kisses.

✨ Mario decides pretty quickly that they're having a girl. He starts addressing her stomach as (la nostra) principessina, his contributions to name ideas are all feminine or neutral, and Luigi and Peasley jump on board too, discussing all the ways they're going to spoil their niece rotten, because a princess deserves no less! "What in the world are you going to do if it's not a girl?" Peach asks Mario one night. "I'll love them all the same!" is Mario's response. "...but I'm pretty sure she's a girl."

✨ When Peach goes into labor, the head nurse argues against Mario's presence at first, because she insists an untrained man taking up space in the room will merely be a hindrance (whether or not that man happens to be King Consort). Mario bluntly tells her she'll have to drag him out herself if she wants him gone. The nurse is a Toad and Mario is over 200lbs, so she relents.

✨ The labor ends up being long and difficult and Mario doesn't leave Peach's side for even a moment of it. It's emotionally draining, seeing her in so much pain for so long and not being able to do much about it, all while staying calm and being as much help as possible, but his perseverance is a big part of what sees her through. All that collectedness goes out the window the second he's holding their new baby in his arms. Peach just gives him a tired giggle and pats his back while he bawls his eyes out.

✨ Mario was right! They have a little girl with her papa's hair and face shape and her mama's eyes and nose. And when he sees his new granddaughter for the first time, Toadsworth may or may not vow to commit war crimes for her should the need ever arise. Peach chooses to believe she's just hearing things in her exhaustion.

[one-vivid-judgment]

Hello. Could I please request some comfort headcanons with Joon-gi, Seonhee, Zhao and Tesso with a verbally domestically abused s/o? Tbh your headcanons and just any random post are kinda soul healing and even therapeutic. They give me strength to mentally deal with any unpleasant situation. So, um, thank you.

I'm so glad my posts give you strength, anon! Tbh I picked up writing myself for therapeutic purposes, so it's good to know someone else is getting something out of this as well! I genuinely wish you the best!

Joongi Han

He can relate, actually. He didn’t exactly have a normal childhood: mom passed away when he was still too young to know any better, and his dad who was already abusive before, turned to drinking and his behavior only got worse. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, much less someone he loves as much as you.

Thankfully, he is no longer in that stage where he will get queasy talking about the subject because the wound is still too fresh. He would have probably had a breakdown if you had brought up the subject a few years earlier, but now he’s... grown used to it. Any pain is dulled out by now, so you can freely talk to him about your situation. He knows you need someone to turn to, and if he is not that person for you, what kind of boyfriend would that make him?

Will hold you silently and just let you talk, hands running up and down your back. He’ll suggest using the Geomijul surveillance system to keep you safe—even if you say no, he will probably go through with it anyway because he can’t stand seeing you like that. If not the entire Geomijul, just himself is enough. He can free up hours of his schedule to watch over you; Seonhee will understand. It will also be her who suggests he brings you over to the Geomijul to stay for good. They have enough bowguns left and are still a threatening enough presence around Ijincho to know no one would dare mess with them.

Seonhee

Unlike Joongi, she hasn’t gone through abuse herself. She’s heard the horror stories from Yeonsu though, so she has some idea of just how bad it can get. Enough to be absolutely fucking fumming by the time you are done telling her about your situation. You can be sure she will take matters into her own hands, even if you try to stop her.

Don’t worry, it won’t be anything like straight up murdering your abuser (though, why lie, she really wants to, and the Geomijul has the means to do that; she can ask Zhao for help disposing of the body, too. Meat bun filling). She will, however, make sure there is always someone watching over you. Most likely Joongi, but if he is out of comission, then it will be anyone else. If it gets too bad, she will do the watching herself. And if it gets real bad? Seonhee is outright snatching you away. She can make extra room for you in the Geomijul HQ, to make sure that person is too scared to come get you.

Not a day goes by where she doesn’t ask you how you are holding up. She’s seen what abuse can do to a person (see, Yeonsu, and to an extent, Zhao), and she has learned the importance of asking those questions. You can come to her with whatever is troubling you, you know that, but she still makes sure to remind you.

Zhao Tianyou

It will take you some time to convince him not to do anything that could potentially land him in jail. You’ve never seen Zhao so mad in your life, and he doesn’t usually yell for no good reason, but man, does he want to kill the bastard that’s putting you through all this. But he also knows it wouldn’t be useful (albeit pretty satisfactory) to get thrown in the slammer and leave you alone.

You Tian is your new home. You can stay for as long as you want: hours, days if you want to. Anything that doesn’t involve you going home to your abuser sounds great in his book. His Liumang loyalists are now basically your full time bodyguards, and if that doesn’t work to intimidate the asshole in question, he’ll have to give them a very stern talking-to. Full of death threats and intimidation tactics. It will prove hard to not take his saber with him though.

He makes sure to be extra sweet to you. Always cooking your favorite dishes, always making sure you are feeling okay. He’ll introduce you to Kasuga and the others if you are up for it, and they’ll quickly become your biggest and best support network. To be honest, Zhao may have grown a little paranoid after the whole ordeal and might need to have you within eyeshot to make sure you are safe. He knows, he knows. But he won’t let it go too far to the point it gets unhealthy.

Tesso

Honestly, he wants to get angry. Hell, he should get angry! But all he can muster is hug you.  He is at the verge of crying when he does. He’s a sensitive man, these things affect him, and the fact that you are going through that when you don’t deserve it at all? Well, you bet your ass it upsets him.

It’s not professional of him, but he’ll admit he sometimes skips Liumang work to go check on you. Like Zhao, he might get a little paranoid about what happens to you when you are out of his sight. He might have hired Tsukumo and Sugiura (Yagami too, if he happens to be in Yokohama) to keep an eye on you; as far as he’s concerned, that’s money well spent. He wishes he could do more—he’ll suggest you run away and stay at his apartment in Restaurant Row. It’s deep enough in Liumang turf that it’s pretty much guarateed your abuser won’t chase after you, if they have half a brain.

His hugs are therapy in and of itself. Helps that he’s a cuddler and pretty much can’t sleep if he isn’t hugging you. Now that he knows what you’ve had to go through, he has all the more reason to do that. He can’t help the smile when he wakes up and sees that you are by his side and not back at that shitty home you grew up in.

[cinnbar-bun]

hi luna :))) *rubs hands together* 💕

can i request some hcs (fluff) of hot pants crushing on reader. like how she is when she has romantic feelings!

(i think you write for pt7 i sprinted to the ask box so delete if you dont anyways bye ilyy)

AAAA Bambi ofc <3 happy late birthday sorry i did this later but yk better late than never!!! Honestly, HP beating me in an alley would totally fix me.

Hot Pants Falling in Love

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~1.1k

Notes: Mentions of HP's backstory, GN!reader, no spoilers for SBR, some mentions of death/angst (this is HP) but overall pretty fluffy.

Hot Pants is not someone who generally tries to get close to others. She’s on her own mission for salvation, and she’s willing to do it by any means necessary. 

In the beginning of you two meeting, she acts harsh and blunt, as usual. It’s honestly a miracle she didn’t threaten to hang you, but that’s not really a bad thing. 

You two spend a lot of time together during the race and slowly grow closer, something she wasn’t intending or expecting. She was just trying to do her job and find the Corpse Parts. 

Not that she’d admit that- out loud or to her own self. She holds you higher in her head than Johnny or Gyro, but she still views it as just a working relationship. One where you’re both using the other to collect the parts and stop Valentine. 

Nothing more, nothing less, she thinks (deludes) to herself. 

She will straight up refuse to acknowledge these feelings. In no way shape or form is Hot Pants going to admit she’s falling in love with her partner. No way. 

That extra worry she has that’s only reserved for you? Well, of course she’d worry when her trusted partner is injured or hurt. You work so well with her, it’d be a shame for you to be put out of commission. 

The fact she feels the need to share her food with you? Don’t be foolish, how can you race properly when you haven’t eaten much? Now hurry, you need to go to another location. 

The annoyance she feels when Johnny, Gyro, Diego- or frankly anyone else- is taking up your attention and time? You’re her partner, and it’d be annoying to have to deal with you splitting your time or going off to them instead. 

As you can see, Hot Pants is not exactly one to ponder these thoughts too hard. She believes them to be just about business, and that your relationship to her is just a professional one. Nothing else, no other things involved. 

She hasn’t had experiences with love and romance, so she just doesn’t know how to process these feelings. She’ll occasionally have a split second awakening where she’ll think, I do like their presence, then choke it down with a for racing, of course. 

Hot Pants is also not helping her case because despite you being the closest to her and being the one she curries more favor with, she also acts extra stern with you. 

Everyone is seeing those mixed messages where she glares at Gyro for telling you a joke before she barks at you that you need to get your shit together. 

Or when she gives you a part of her sandwich then shoves it in your hand and lectures you on why you planned so poorly. You need to think ahead for these matters, damn it. She won’t be around every time to save your ass. 

Although… she wishes she could be. 

There’s a certain dread that creeps over her when she thinks or looks at you, and it’s entirely self-inflicted. She refuses to acknowledge the notion or why she could be feeling this way towards you, specifically, but she knows that you’re the one she feels this way to. 

It would only be on a random night under the stars where you’re sleeping and she’s on lookout duty, contemplating and ruminating over her life, where she’d be forced to understand the thoughts she’d been denying for so long. 

Hot Pants won’t even make a fuss or put up much of a fight at that time, instead quietly looking into the fire and admitting to herself the truth. 

Ah… I do like them. I like them a lot more than I should. 

She’s obviously guilty over what happened to her brother, but she wonders if she is worthy of having your attention. Does she deserve to be happy with someone after all she’s done? (The answer is yes, of course)

Daily life after that night stays kind of the same. Although, you might catch Hot Pants avoiding your gaze or talking softer to you sometimes. Not always, again, she will try to mask it with her harshness and continue her lectures. 

But now she’s even more determined to make sure you don’t get hurt or, god forbid, die on this race. She will not have you get hurt if it’s the last thing she does. 

She already admits she’s willing to put her life on the line for the sake of the corpse parts and her salvation, but you also get added there, too. She won’t acknowledge this to even herself, but if push came to shove, she’d have no regrets sacrificing her life for you. 

In a way, she’d hope you could be the one to continue the mission for her. She trusts you immensely, and would like to believe that if you got the parts, you could be free and saved. 

All this to say, Hot Pants’s feelings are more subtle and internal. And although she likes to act as if she does not have such feelings or ideas in her head, truthfully, she’s a whole well of them. She thinks too much, feels too much, and loves you too much. 

You’ve complicated her already busy head while also providing with her the only amount of peace and quiet in her mind. You make her feel a bundle of contradictions that she can’t help but act out on. 

She hates you, but she loves you like nothing else. She is worried for you and wants to shield you, but thinks you’re one of the strongest people out there. She wants to get angry and upset at you, but she can’t find it in her to continue that kind of behavior. 

You’d pretty much have to be the one to confess first for her, because no way is she ever going to get over her self-doubts and worries to tell you those feelings. Hot Pants is dedicated, this woman is more likely to go hundreds of years never saying a word about it because in her head, your current relationship is fine enough as it is (your presence is really all she needs) and she’d rather not spoil it with her own desires she deems unworthy to have. 

But one thing is for certain… a Hot Pants in love is a very protective Hot Pants, who would do almost anything for you. You need to just say the word and she’d do it, even if she pretends it is a bother or a waste of time.

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XXIV

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 9,348

“Greet your friend.” Hongjoong gestures behind you, nodding his head in the direction of the door. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds since she called out to you, but your terror drags every second out to the expanse of infinity. 

The world moves in slow motion as you turn your head. You hardly register her face before you’re fighting for release of your arm, throwing your elbow back into Seonghwa’s chest as hard as you can muster. 

He doesn’t let you go; instead, he grabs your other arm as well, pulling you against him. You fight his grip, not taking your eyes off of her face for a second. You try to scream, try to think of a single word to say, but there is nothing that you can do. Seonghwa restrains you perfectly, not even flinching against your protests. 

Haseul looks as scared as you feel as the realization catches up with her. At her side, Mingi wraps his own hand around her arm, locking her in place. 

You hardly even process Mingi’s presence at her side, your eyes locked on Haseul as her face contorts in confusion. You struggle against Seonghwa’s hold on you, trying to do anything you can to get out of his grasp. He pays you no mind at all.

Hongjoong’s hand lands on your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. “Looks like you’re a bit emotional, (Y/n).” He clicks his tongue, leaving your side to approach Haseul himself. “San, why don’t you bring her to your apartment?” It’s not a suggestion. 

You swing your head to look at San, your eyes wide with warning. There’s no chance in hell that you’re letting Haseul out of your sight, let alone leaving her with Hongjoong. San looks between you and Hongjoong, a pained expression on his face. This is the decision, the one he couldn’t make, right in front of him. You didn’t want it to come so soon, either.

Hongjoong sticks his hand out to Haseul as he approaches her, and you finally find your voice. “Don’t fucking touch her.” 

He looks back at you, feigning confusion as he grabs her hand into his own. He turns back to Haseul, over enunciating his words to ensure that you hear them. “Sorry for the confusion, Haseul.” He shakes her hand, resting his free hand over their joint hands. “I’m Hongjoong, the…" he trails off, looking shy, "leader, you could say, here." 

Haseul looks over his shoulder at you. Her confusion is obvious; she has no idea what the hell is going on. And she has no idea what she's gotten herself into, either. 

Seonghwa squeezes you tighter to him, lowering his lips to your ear to whisper. "I will gladly gag you if need be, princess. Keep your mouth shut." 

You fight against him, nearly managing to knock your heads together, but he's quick enough to evade the strike. Bastard. Creepy fucking perverted bastard. You couldn’t give less of a fuck what Seonghwa threatens to do to you. All you want is for Haseul to get out. 

Haseul still hasn't responded to Hongjoong. She looks back at him, analyzing his appearance. You have complete faith in her reasoning, you know that she'll see right through him. She's always been good at sniffing out the bad ones. This won't be any different, especially with the way you're being fucking restrained right in front of her. She'll know, even if you don’t dare say anything further. The less Haseul knows, the more likely it is that she can go, right? 

Your gaze shifts to Mingi, then. He really needs to redye his hair. An absurd observation, given the circumstances, but it's true. He doesn't look as confused about the situation, his grasp on Haseul quite sure. You wonder if this fear is what Mingi felt when he saw you walk through those doors for the first time… but you doubt it. Mingi might have been confused, but he certainly wasn't scared for your life. He had embraced you, welcomed you. 

He meets your eyes for the first time in days. It's brief, hardly a few seconds, but it's enough for you to see that he's gone. Whatever Hongjoong told him after your argument, he believed it. Proof enough is his presence here. He is Haseul's captor right now. Mingi and Mingi alone holds her in place. If he just let her go… 

What a dirty fucking trick. Using Mingi. Whether it was designed to hurt you or make Haseul more trusting, it fulfilled both purposes. You're sure she was probably elated to see him after so long. And she had probably been so excited to see you, too. Fuck. How many people are you going to drag into this? How many people are going to be hurt because of you?

You think again of San, who still hasn't made his decision. He stands at your side, clenching his hands so tight it almost hurts your heart. Your poor San. Forced to choose and so soon after you told him he didn't have to. 

Not that the choice isn't obvious. You know he'll take you from Seonghwa and drag you to your apartment eventually. You know he'll probably feel terrible and beg your forgiveness immediately after the door shuts behind you. And will you give it? 

Your heart is already so soft towards him, you fear that you will. Immediately. Even before you leave the room. You’re already forgiving him, in fact, before the choice is even carried out. You don’t have much of a resolve, especially considering that he really has only one option. It’s Hongjoong or it’s nothing. He can’t have Hongjoong questioning his faith, not with everything that’s been going on. 

“Hongjoong, nice to meet you.” Haseul doesn’t smile and her voice doesn’t waver. “What the hell is happening right now?” 

Hongjoong chuckles, finally dropping her hand. “Do you want the truth?” 

She looks at you again, a frown marring her usually beautiful face. “Obviously.”

“You’re going to die here.” Hongjoong shrugs, turning back around to you. “Unless someone learns how to behave. Speaking of, didn’t I tell you to take her away, San?” 

You ignore his last question, a new burst of adrenaline tearing its way through you. What in the everloving fuck does Hongjoong think he’s doing? He thinks he can control you by threatening one of your best friends? That you’ll suddenly bend to his whim because he has another captive? 

… Yeah, and he’s right. He fucking knows you. He knows your guilt, and he knows how it eats you. He couldn’t just use Mingi? He had to drag another person into this? Christ, not that you would want him to use Mingi against you, no, but… being the fault of one ruined life is better than two. Hongjoong is a monster. 

Haseul surprises you, laughing as San finally latches a hand onto your arm. “Let’s go, (Y/n), please.” He whispers, lighting pulling on you as Seonghwa loosens his grip.

“No, I’m sure that I won’t.” Haseul looks at Mingi. “Let me go, kiddo. I want to talk to (Y/n).” 

As soon as Seonghwa’s hands are off of you, you’re trying to tear out of San’s hand. As you suspected, his hold on you isn’t very tight at all, and it easily breaks from the full force of your body. You sprint toward the other group, your eyes locking with Hongjoong’s. 

For a moment, you think he betrays a sense of… worry. But the look is gone as quickly as it appears, Seonghwa’s hands latching onto you and pulling you back so suddenly that your knees give out underneath you. Seonghwa catches you by your underarms, stopping you from falling all the way to the floor, but not being gentle at all about it. 

“Haseul!” You finally find it in yourself to scream. “Run!” 

She looks between yourself and Mingi as Seonghwa yanks you to your feet, locking a hand over your lips. Whatever. You got the key message out. So long as she at least tries… 

And she does. Haseul lets herself go limp, the sudden weight too much for Mingi to support with one hand. She slips right through his fingers, scrambling to her feet as she turns back toward where she came. 

Much like yourself, however, she doesn’t get very far. Mingi is right behind her, scooping an arm around her waist and stopping her in much the same place they had already been standing. 

Hongjoong laughs, then, clapping his hands together in front of him. “Aren’t you two quite the pair of runners? Tell me, Haseul, how was your drive in? Think you can run the eight miles to town? (Y/n) tried. And failed.” He smiles, entirely dropping any sort of ruse, even the usual charismatic charm completely ebbs out of him. His unfiltered self is more than upsetting. 

It’s fucking scary. He’s normally scary, but, without even a minor reassurance of his humanity, Hongjoong is more terrifying than ever. His cruelty laid bare, his megalomania so strong that he can’t even reign it in for appearance’s sake… it’s too much. 

You stop your fighting, not wanting to make anything worse. Which, clearly, you are. 

“Are we done?” He asks you, pouting. “I was just starting to have fun, though. I could let you both go; we could play hide-and-seek in the fields again. Wasn’t that fun, (Y/n)?” He approaches you where Seonghwa has you locked in place. Your breathing is heavy against his hand. “Maybe the both of you could manage to get somewhere, together. Or, more likely, your friend would end up in the fucking pig feed.” 

It’s in this instant that you give up. Hongjoong isn’t playing. There’s no chance that you’re going to be able to do anything to help Haseul at this moment; it’s better to play it safe. Not risk the ire. 

Hongjoong smiles, but it’s not his usual smile. It’s utterly unhinged, a vein in his forehead making an appearance from the strain of his face. You try to back into Seonghwa, but he doesn’t budge as Hongjoong gets closer to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder, continuing. “What do you think, (Y/n)? Do you want to play? Or do you want to listen?” 

Seonghwa removes his hand from your lips. Tears well in your eyes as you blink up at Hongjoong, your fear so great that you can hardly find your voice. “Hongjoong, I want, I… I’ll listen, please. Hongjoong, please don’t, don’t hurt her.” 

He squeezes your shoulder too tight. “Are you sure? I’m happy to let you go.” 

You nod your head, closing your eyes tightly in an attempt to not let any of your tears fall. 

“If you insist.” He lets go of you. You let out a deep breath, opening your eyes to watch as he walks away from you and toward Haseul and Mingi. “Mingi, you’re going to take Haseul to her room. And, San, you’re going to take (Y/n) to your apartment. And you’re not going to let your girls out of your sight.” He glances between Mingi and San, his tone not changing at all, even when addressing them. 

You can’t see San, but you can see Mingi. He nods, ushering Haseul out of the cafeteria. You watch her back as she goes, her looking over her shoulder to get one last look at you. It’s almost heartbreaking. You look back at Hongjoong, watching his shoulders bounce as he laughs to himself. 

He really is sick. 

San returns his hand to your arm, but you can’t look at him. You can’t take your eyes from Hongjoong. “(Y/n), please…” San pleads with you, and you don’t fight when Seonghwa lets go of you. “Walk with me?” He whispers, pulling you ever so gently as he starts moving toward the door. 

You stumble at first, and San nearly whimpers as you force him to guide you out the door. It’s hurting him to treat you like this, you know, but you… can’t go along with it. You can’t just go. You keep your eyes locked on Hongjoong, even when it means turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. 

He wiggles his fingers at you as you go, a taunting wave. ‘I win’ that wave says. And why not? Hasn’t he won? 

You watch as Seonghwa approaches him, stopping a few steps behind him. You wonder if that little display had any effect on him. Does seeing someone you love be so utterly insane change the way you feel about them? Seonghwa never denied being scared of Hongjoong, did he? More than likely, Seonghwa is used to this behavior. He might even like it, for all you know about the freak. 

San turns the corner out of the cafeteria and your spell finally breaks. You shiver, not able to contain the feeling of relief to be out of his presence. San slows his pace, nervously glancing at you as you continue down the hallway.

“Are you okay?” His voice trembles with his question, and you’re sure that he already knows the answer. 

You stare straight ahead of yourself, willing your feet to keep going. Just make it to the apartment, and then you can let go. Just a few flights of stairs and you can rest. 

San doesn’t try to ask again when you don’t respond. He leads you in silence, though his grip on your arm gets lighter and lighter with every step that you take. His hatred of putting his hands on you really is endearing, but there isn’t time to think about that. 

You’ve got to figure out how you’re going to get Haseul out of here. There’s already an inkling of an idea brewing in your mind, but it might be… a bit… exploitative. And you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. But… It's Haseul. You can’t let her stay here. You’ll have to find it in yourself to not feel guilty when asking for help. 

In the best case scenario, she would become another brainwashed follower (not that you could ever see that happening). In the worst… she would be another tortured prisoner like yourself. In fact, she would probably have it worse than you, considering that Hongjoong apparently has no special plan for her beyond using her to make you obey him.

The actual worst case scenario is something that you refuse to even consider. 

Once you reach the apartment, San is barely even touching you. You let yourself in, walking determinedly to the couch, where you allow yourself to collapse. San shuts the door behind him, locking it before coming to stand in front of you. He stays quiet, frowning down at you. 

You smile at him, though that quickly devolves as you begin to cry in earnest. You can’t help it. The waning adrenaline suddenly makes your emotions so much more vivid, sending you into a fit. You put your face in your hands, letting go of your self control for the time being. There’s no use in trying to contain your emotions, not here, not with San. 

The depression in the couch next to you follows very quickly. San wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek on your back. From what you know about him, you’re sure that he’s probably following your lead. Have you ever cried in front of him and not been mirrored? 

He sways with you, gently rocking you through your fit. 

You just… don’t understand. How could you not have seen this coming? Doesn’t it make perfect sense that Hongjoong would exploit you like this? Didn’t it seem like things were going too well? You should’ve been prepared for a blow like this; did you really think that there was anything Hongjoong was above doing? Because, if you did, you were blind. 

And you can’t get over how fucking scary he was. He had scared you in the past, sure. He’s always been scary. But that was… something else entirely. He’s had his moments of anger with you, yes, but even then he wasn’t so… brazen. It’s like he has an entirely different fucking personality in him, and you’re horrified to think that that is probably his true self. Without the bells and whistles, without trying to charm and deceive… that’s what he is. 

You’d do well to remember that. Things were getting… a bit chummy there. Had you been reading The Answer? Voluntarily? Christ, the idea is laughable now. What the fuck had you been thinking? Not to mention your other endeavors. Pathetic, honestly. 

And, again, how are you going to get Haseul out of here? There’s… only one person that you could possibly even think of convincing to help you, and he’s currently holding you in his arms. 

Is it wrong to ask him? When you know that Hongjoong is already on his ass? You would be putting him in danger to even ask him such a favor, but… its Haseul. Haseul. You can’t let your best friend rot here on account of yourself. And you can’t just not use every resource. 

But… say shit goes south. Then Hongjoong gets rid of two people that you care about. And wouldn’t that be just your luck? Two people, gone in an instant because of your need to help one of them. That would be… unforgivable. You wouldn’t be able to bear that guilt. 

But how the fuck can you possibly even consider bearing the guilt of Haseul being trapped here? Used against you? You can’t. You couldn’t possibly. 

So the choice is simple, really. You have to risk them both. Maybe, just maybe, the universe will let you get your way this time. And, if Haseul is able to get away… you could get out of here. You could be saved, and not in the way Hongjoong wants. You can’t give up the opportunity that Haseul could escape and get the fucking police involved. So you have to try.

You let San rock you as you settle your tears. He probably won’t want to be near you after you say what you’re about to say, so you savor the warmth of his arms and the touch of his hands for as long as you can. You have to hurt him, have to. You can’t risk him not taking this seriously, and you can’t think of any other way to drive him to do what needs to be done.

If you asked him nicely, he could say no. He could try and reason with you and beg and plead that you don’t do this, because it could end up bad for you. And he would be right, but that’s beside the point. You have to be mad. You have to yell and scream and drive home your point. There can be no doubt in his mind that the only way to keep you is to help you. 

It’s manipulation, pure and simple. And you know that it’s wrong, but… what else can you do? Haseul has to get out, and San is the only hope that you possibly have. 

San adjusts his hold on you once you lower your hands from your face. He looks at you, and, sure enough, he had definitely been crying as well. One of his arms remains around your waist, but his free hand grabs for one of yours. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n).” He swallows hard, a frown staying on his face. 

You nearly crack. Then and there. How can you possibly go through with this when he’s… him? But you think of Haseul, probably terrified out of her mind in one of those tiny bedrooms with Mingi. You can’t let this happen to her. 

You pull your hand out of San’s, standing up off of the couch. His hand on your waist lingers for as long as it can, but you quickly step out of his reach. Using the ball of your hand to wipe at your tears, you steel yourself. The quicker you can convince him that he has to help you, the quicker this can all be over. 

“I can’t believe you, San.” You swallow back more tears as you watch his face contort in confusion. 

He quickly sits up, leaning forward to reach for one of your hands again. You take another step backward, preventing him from succeeding. “What, (Y/n), what do you…” His eyes sparkle with fresh tears. “What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “You obviously knew about this.” You turn to go, planning to head back to the bedroom. If he thinks that you’re leaving… 

San stands behind you, trying to grab onto your hand. “Wait, wait, (Y/n), just—” But you’re already taking off down the hallway, easily able to slip your hand out of his hold.

“Wait, (Y/n), you have to listen!” San chases after you, following you as you walk as fast as you dare toward the bedroom. “I swear, (Y/n), I swear that I had no idea!” 

You stop in your tracks in the doorway to the room, your chest heaving as you turn to face San. “You didn’t know?” Your tone is as accusatory as you need it to be. You almost find yourself getting truly angry with him. And you might, if not for the tears now pouring down his cheeks. “You’re trying to tell me that you didn’t fucking know that Hongjoong was bringing one of my closest friends here? When all of that shit is entirely your responsibility?” You’re yelling by the end of your sentence, stepping closer to San with each word. 

San reaches out to you, snatching your wrist out of the air as you point at his chest. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.” His voice is calm despite his crying. You try and wiggle your arm out of his grasp, not liking the feeling of being restrained by him. “I never would have done this to you, ever.” His voice deepens as he whispers through gritted teeth. 

You continue trying to pull your wrist from his grasp. “I don’t believe you.” Your tears return with this sentence, the lump in your throat hard to swallow. 

“Why not?” San retains his iron grip on your wrist, making you stay in place as he takes a step closer to you. He holds your hand to his chest as he stares down at you, his tears drying up. 

You look up at him, hoping he can’t see through you. This is it. “I know that you,” you spit the word with as much anger as you can muster, “are the reason that I’m here. Excuse me for not trusting you, San.”

He sets his jaw, breaking your eye contact to study the paint on the walls. He nods once, twice. “I deserve that, and you’re right.” He finds your eye again. “You might not believe me when I say this, but I swear to you that I regret it everyday. You’re free to hate me, but you have to know that I would take it back if I could. I’d sooner have never met you than have caused you all of this pain.” He pulls you closer, your chest knocking against your conjoined hands. “Which is why I will never hurt you again. Meaning, I would never have invited Haseul. Even if Hongjoong asked.” 

“I don’t believe you.” You shake your head up at him, finally letting your tears fall again.

“How can I make you?” 

The climax of the conversation reaches you and you’re hardly able to spit the words out. “Help her escape. Help her get the hell out of here. Then I’ll believe you.” 

San’s expression doesn’t change. He continues looking down at you, searching your eyes for any indication of a lie. “Will you?” 

You nod. 

“Okay.” He looks at you for a second longer, taking in your expression, before letting go of your wrist and stepping away from you. “Stay here. I’m going to send… someone up here to stay with you. I don’t want Hongjoong getting mad if he sees me, somehow.” 

You nod your head again, your stomach flipping as you realize that you actually just pulled that off. You do feel bad, you can’t deny it, the tears still streaming down your cheeks confirm your guilt, solidify it. 

“Don’t worry if it takes me a while to come back,” he smiles, but it looks fake, “I will come back to you. Is there anything you want me to tell her?” 

Pondering this, you take a second to wipe your tears away. You know it’s only making him hurt worse to see you cry. Might as well try to spare him of some of it. What would you want to say to her? “Just… tell her that I’m sorry, and that I love her.” 

San reaches out to you one last time, cupping your face in his hand as he wipes your cheek for you. He pulls you close, leaning in at the same time to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s short, however, and he’s already walking out the door before you can process it. “Wait for me.” He calls behind himself, leaving you alone in the apartment. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You can’t really remember the last time that you had been alone, really alone. There was the time before the trip into town, but, even then, you had actually been surrounded by people. Now, you’re completely alone in your apartment. You could, theoretically, run away. 

But Hongjoong made it quite clear earlier how he felt about that option. And you’re really not eager for a repeat of the corn fields. So you stay put. It’s better this way, anyhow. You wouldn’t be so stupid as to put Haseul’s escape at risk. 

You do wonder who San will choose to send up to watch you, though. Probably another higher up… but… who? Who could he trust with the knowledge that he’s left you alone… for some… mysterious reason that is totally a coincidence that your friend just showed up and is about to mysteriously escape somehow… 

The knock at the door alleviates the curiosity, at least. You call for whoever it is to come in, having moved to the couch since San left. It hadn’t been that long, maybe ten minutes, but you were not vibing with the silence. You’re quite used to hearing another person’s breathing 24/7, thank you very much. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when Wooyoung peeks his head into your apartment. When he sees you on the couch, he lets himself in, gently pulling the door closed behind himself. “(Y/n), it’s good to see you…” He glances around the room. “But what’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” Surely he knows something is up. but you’re not going to tell him anything that he doesn’t need to know. 

Wooyoung frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did San come crying to me about you two having an argument?" 

Ahhhh. It’s a good enough cover, you suppose. Especially given the way that you’re positive your emotions linger on your face, it’s believable enough that you fought. And, anyways, San probably thinks that you did fight. 

Wooyoung clears his throat, still frowning. “You should know by now that he’s… sensitive.” 

You nod slowly, feeling genuinely apologetic. Again, its not like you wanted to hurt him, but… “I know, Wooyoung. It’s just that everything is so… I don’t know. Nothing can go right, and I guess I took it out on him.” 

“Aren’t you happy to see your friend?” He asks, dropping any of the attitude that he had clearly wanted to have with you. “It’s a good thing, her being here!” 

You clench your jaw, keeping your mouth shut. Wooyoung doesn’t deserve your anger anymore than San did. “It’s complicated, Wooyoung.” 

He sighs, sitting next to you on the couch. “I know that things were hard for you when you first got here, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be the same for your friend.” 

When you don’t reply, he keeps trying. “You like it here, now. Please don’t try to say that you don’t.” He reaches for your hand, but you pull it away before he can grab it. What the hell is he on? His voice raises as he continues. “Look around you, (Y/n). Is this so bad? Is San so terrible? Are the people here not your friends? Just because things are hard with Hongjoong doesn’t mean that you’re being tortured here; you don’t know how lucky you are.” 

You look at Wooyoung in utter shock. You could’ve expected this rant from plenty of people, but Wooyoung? To have Wooyoung say such things to you… You get to your feet, putting more distance between the two of you.

“You can’t possibly think that I’m lucky.”

Wooyoung smiles up at you, but with a malice that you’ve never seen from him. You don’t know what the hell has him so worked up, but you’re seeing an entirely new side of Wooyoung. “Do you think that you’re the only person here that had a hard go of it? Did you think that no one before you ever resisted being Chosen?” He shakes his head, the smile fading. “Plenty of us suffered at first, but we weren’t rewarded with instant status. You have no idea what I went through, (Y/n). You are lucky.” 

There’s really no way for you to contain your surprise. Wooyoung. Wooyoung. Happy-go-lucky Wooyoung is, what, scolding you? Bitching you out? For not being happy that you’re being held hostage by a cult. And, for what reason, other than he, himself suffered through the same thing? Shouldn’t he understand your position more than anyone? He’s never shown you the side of him that you’re speaking to now, how were you supposed to know? 

“But you, you’re—”

“I’m what? Devoted? Yes, I am, do you know why?” He waits for an answer that doesn’t come. “I can show you the scars. They’re only a couple years old.” 

Wooyoung stands, grabbing the hem of his shirt like he means to take it off. No, you don’t want to see any scars. You reach for one of his wrists, locking his hand in place. “Please, you don’t need to show me.” 

He snatches his hand out of yours so violently that he ends up smacking himself in the chest. “I believe in the Answer and I believe in Hongjoong. Truly. What got me to this point was not pretty, though I didn’t dare do anything as bold as you.” He looks you up and down and you feel as though he can see right through you. “And yet… I don’t see signs of the same treatment. I have to wonder what makes you so different.” 

You never thought that you would find yourself scared of Wooyoung. You inch a few steps backward, keeping your distance. You don’t truly think that he would hurt you, but… There’s no way of knowing. You can’t trust anyone in this fucking place. Just when you think you might know someone, this shit happens. 

“It’s the prophecy or whatever, I know.” Wooyoung shakes his head, ignoring your movements. “Hongjoong thought someone else was you, you know? Have you heard that one yet?” 

You shake your head, but you mean it in more of a ‘please don’t tell me’ way than a ‘no I haven’t’ way. Really, you do not need to know. You don’t want to know. This is entirely new information to you, but you’re not ready to hear it. 

Wooyoung smiles, taking a step closer to you. “He thought she was the one, but… she wasn’t. And what did Hongjoong do? How did he reward her loyalty?” You take another step back, but your back hits the wall before you can put enough space between yourself and Wooyoung. He advances further, looking down at you with a fire in his eyes that you never could’ve expected. “He had Seonghwa kill her. Her body decomposed in the fields. You can see her bones from the road in the winter.” 

You won’t cry. You’re not going to cry. Not again. You find it in yourself to shove Wooyoung away from you, able to get away from the wall that is now suffocating you. He laughs behind you as you practically jog to your bedroom, desperate to be alone.

What the fuck. Genuinely, absolutely, positively, what the fuck? 

You slam the door shut behind you, running your hands through your hair as you pace. What the fuck was the point in telling you that? What has gotten into Wooyoung? He was like you? Is he still like you? Does he want to leave? He’s mad at you because you weren’t abused like he was? He’s jealous? 

None of it makes any fucking sense. If there was another girl, one before you, what would’ve made Hongjoong change his mind about her? And, if she was actually loyal to him, how on earth could he possibly have thought that you would be the better choice?

And why had no one mentioned her to you before? San had never told you anything like this. It doesn’t make sense. Why would it be such a secret? Because she’s dead? Was everyone just supposed to forget that she ever existed, just because Hongjoong decided she wasn’t the one to do… whatever the fuck it is that he needs done? 

Your heart aches for the girl that came first. She didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve to be brainwashed. Your stomach twists as you think of how she must’ve died, fully believing that she was fulfilling a purpose for Hongjoong. It’s sick. Hopefully she wasn’t scared. That’s the only solace that you can find for her. 

And Haseul, Jesus fuck, Haseul is here! Where is San? Shouldn’t he be back by now? Shouldn’t he have done whatever it was that needed to be done?

There’s too fucking much to worry about. You can only be sick over so many different things at once. Every damned day in this place makes everything a thousand times more complicated. 

Once San is back, you’ll ask about Haseul. And then about the other girl. And then about how he got here. And then about Wooyoung. 

If Wooyoung was taken by force, it’s entirely possible that San was, too. You’ve never spoken about how he got here, or about his past life at all. It’s suddenly a bit stifling, the realization that there is so much about him that you don’t know. But, if San was taken like you were, couldn’t he… no, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. But… 

San is already defying Hongjoong for you. Your relationship, for one thing, was outright banned in front of your eyes. Now he’s helping someone escape for you. If he’s willing to do that… couldn’t he be willing to help you? Couldn’t you get him to see your perspective, with a little bit more begging and pleading? 

If San never wanted to be here in the first place, couldn’t you convince him to leave? 

A knock on the door startles you. “Hey, (Y/n), listen,” Wooyoung’s voice carries through the wood, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all of that, you didn’t need to know. You’re not even supposed to know.” 

You hold your breath, waiting for him to try the doorknob. You hadn’t locked it behind you, he could very well open the door. 

“Can I come in? I can explain things better, I swear.” 

You gnaw at your lip for a moment, weighing your options. You don’t think that Wooyoung would hurt you. He’s always been genuinely kind to you, up until twenty minutes ago. He sounds like he’s calmed down, too. Wooyoung was one of the first people you… liked, here. 

But… he was being really freaky. Like, really weird. He did not need to behave like that with you. You probably shouldn’t let him in, and yet you find yourself telling him that he can. 

He inches the door open slowly, frowning in the doorway when he sees how upset you look. 

You stop your pacing, opting to climb up on your bed and sit, staring at Wooyoung. 

He doesn’t come in. Instead, he leans his shoulder against the door frame, his fingers nervously twisting together in front of him. “I shouldn’t have… let myself speak to you like that, (Y/n). I’m really sorry.” 

Wooyoung hardly looks at you as he says this, looking down at his hands instead.  “You’re right, and thank you for the apology.” 

He nods, wetting his lips. “I shouldn’t make excuses, and I won’t, but I just can’t help but wonder why so many of us were treated so poorly when you’re… not. And I don’t say that to make you feel guilty, but I just don’t really understand it. I know Hongjoong has his plan for you, but—”

“What is the plan, Wooyoung?” You feel only a little bad for cutting him off. You can unpack his words later, now is… really not the time to add more worries to your mind. 

He finally looks up at you, tilting his head and almost hitting it against the door. “You haven’t read it, yet? Honestly, the text explains it better than I could.” 

You resist rolling your eyes. Why is that always what everyone says? You don’t want to read it, you want another human being to look in your eyes and tell you what’s going to happen. Maybe it’s flawed logic, but you feel like hearing it from someone else would make it easier to stomach. Knowing that someone else knows, too, could be comforting, right? “Can’t you just give me the gist of it?” 

Wooyoung smiles, though this one is actually humorous. “The gist of it is that you’re important to Universe One. It goes into detail about a girl that will link the universes; allowing free travel between them. The Sign of the Answer,” he taps the pins on his collar, “she’ll bring it to fruition.” 

The room stays silent as you think of your next question. You glance at San’s copy of The Answer on his bedside table, the edges of the book crinkled with use. How many times has he read it, you wonder?

“How?” You finally ask, looking back at Wooyoung.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t say.” 

Well isn’t that just great. Isn’t that just perfect. What are you supposed to glean from that? What is that supposed to entail for your future? 

“When?” You ask. 

“Doesn’t say.” Wooyoung repeats. 

He pushes himself off of the door frame, taking a few steps into the room so that he can stand in front of you. “I’m sorry that this all has happened to you, (Y/n). But I need to emphasize this to you again… I know that you don’t want to hear it, but you are lucky. Things would be a lot easier for you if you simply… accepted your new reality.” 

You cross your arms, looking up at him. He’s right, you don’t want to hear it. You’re not lucky. Lucky doesn’t mean being taken by a cult and treated ‘nicely.’ You wouldn’t say ‘aw, you’re so lucky that you only got raped and not murdered,’ to a Richard Ramierez victim, would you? No, you wouldn’t. Because other crimes do not minimize the ones being committed against you. You know that, at least. 

“Things would be easier, you’re right,” you nod, “but I don’t want them to be easier.” 

“That’s your choice, I guess.”

The conversation reminds you a lot of one that you had had with San outside of the barns. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Wooyoung stays with you through dinner, though neither of you make an appearance. You’re sure that Hongjoong wasn’t expecting you, anyways. After this afternoon, you wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to keep you locked up in your apartment as punishment. You’d frankly be quite surprised if things carried on like they had been, after such a display from yourself and from him. You still don’t know what the hell got up his ass or why the fuck he was so scary, but you also don’t think you really want to know.

You’re not sure how Wooyoung accounted for his absence, or if he even did. For all you know, he’s allowed sick days every now and then or something. But would Wooyoung be willing to lie to Hongjoong for San? Would any of them lie to cover for each other? You really don’t know. 

You watch the sunset through your bedroom window, wondering where San could possibly be. It’s been hours since he left, and each passing minute honestly only makes you feel worse. You’re really starting to feel guilty about… essentially extorting San into carrying out your bidding. It was wrong of you to use such a manipulative tactic, but it really had seemed like the only way to help Haseul. Even looking back on it with regret, you don’t know how else it could’ve gone. There was too much of a risk of San not taking it seriously enough. 

But you also have to worry about San, too. What Seonghwa said about him has continued to linger in your mind. If Hongjoong really wants him out of the equation… this could definitely be grounds for it. If San is caught with Haseul… there could be serious repercussions. 

At this point, you don’t know if you’re more worried about Haseul escaping or San getting caught helping her. Obviously you needed San to be the one to help her, but fuck you’re worried. 

You feel guilty. And you feel guilty for feeling guilty. It should be your number one priority to make sure that Haseul gets away safely, but you’re also just so worried for San. You don’t know how long you were expecting him to be gone, but it certainly wasn’t the rest of the day. 

Maybe you have some sort of attachment issues. The pain in your chest could be caused by any one of the reasons that you’re stressed, but you suspect that it’s San. You miss him. That’s all. It’s weird to not have him with you, especially when you’re going through so much. 

Wooyoung has been alright company, at least after he stopped being a freak. But he sits in the living room as you sit in your bedroom, the both of you waiting for San to arrive back. Its a bit awkward, even though you’re in separate rooms. You wonder what he’s doing, but it’s probably much the same as what you’re doing. Thinking. 

The sun is setting noticeably earlier these days. Long gone are the 9pm sunsets, each day inching closer to a 7pm twilight. You wonder how long it’s been since you arrived. You should’ve kept count, somehow. At least three weeks, you’d think. Maybe a month. Maybe a little more. It’s hard to tell. They still haven’t started harvesting the corn, which inclines you to believe that it can’t be much later than early October, if that. If it is October, that would mean that it’s been six weeks, which feels too long. 

You’re really not sure. 

The days have blurred together. Without any contact to the outside world, it’s impossible for you to have enough of an idea of what happened each day, let alone how many days ago something happened. There are no landmarks, no events that you can recall for certain happening on specific days. 

You arrived, and time passed. You were chosen, and time passed. You got a job, and time passed. You decided to escape, and time passed. You were made to live with San, and time passed. You got close to San, and time passed. Haseul arrived… and time will pass. 

It’s just one thing after another. 

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

You’re not sure how or when, but you must’ve dozed off. You wake up only when the shower in your bathroom starts, startling you awake.

You’re disorientated the way you always are after a nap. You’re too hot, your jeans are too tight, your shirt is askew, your skin imprinted with the lines of the blanket you slept on top of. It’s dark.

Sitting up, you look toward the bathroom door as you straighten your shirt. It’s closed, but it must be San. Through the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor, the only source of light pours into your room. It shines brightly. The clock on your bedside table reads 1:09 A.M.

Fuck, that certainly took a lot longer than you had been expecting. Stretching your arms over your head, you try to wake up a bit. There’s going to be a conversation that you want to be wide awake for. You change into your pajamas as you wait for him to finish his shower, sitting patiently on the bed, ready to hear everything that he has to tell you. You want every detail of every minute. You need to know that Haseul is safe.

It is entirely possible that San will be too tired to talk. It’s also possible that he failed. That there will be nothing to tell you other than the fact that Haseul is still here and that there was nothing he could do. It’s surprising, really, that this is the first time such a possibility has really occurred to you. It’s probably more likely that he tried and failed than he tried and succeeded. Sneaking an entire person off of the farm without either being caught would be… difficult. 

Your guilt reawakens at your ignorance. You could’ve set them both up for failure, and you hadn’t really considered it before this moment, when San is back in your bedroom. You had been worried about them being caught, yes… But you hadn’t considered the third option where nothing happens and shit is exactly as it was this afternoon. 

Just when you think that the sound of the water hitting the wall is going to drive you crazy, the water shuts off. You turn toward the door, letting your legs hang off the side of the bed. 

San opens the door, the light from the bathroom suddenly pouring out into the bedroom. Shielding your eyes with your hand, you try your best to look at him. 

He stands in the doorway, staring back at you like a deer in the headlights (though you’re the one in the headlights, really). You can’t tell if he’s just surprised to see that you’re awake, or surprised to have you sitting right there when he just emerged from the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his hips. 

His hair drips, the droplet hitting his collarbone and trailing down the rest of his chest before sinking into the towel. Hopefully your staring wasn’t as obvious as it felt. You look back up at his face, and you both start to speak at the same time.

“I’m sorry that I was ma—”

“Did I wake you u—”

You both smile, and you’re instantly feeling more relieved. San is back. And he’s smiling. That must be a good sign, right?

“You did, but it’s okay.” You reach out your hand to him, wanting him to give you one of his. “I’m sorry for being mad, earlier.” He steps closer to the bed and slides his hand into yours as you say this, smiling down at you. You really are sorry. The feeling of his hand in yours only reassures you that everything must be okay. 

His hair drips onto your lap, dampening your fresh pair of pajama pants. “No, don’t be sorry.” His voice is soft, his free hand coming to rest under your jaw. “You didn’t say anything I haven’t thought myself. I’m sorry for waking you up, or, well, I’m sorry for everything, I mean. But especially waking you up.” 

“It’s alright, San. How did… How did it go?” You squeeze his hand, hoping you don’t look too expectant. It’s natural for you to want the best outcome, of course, but you don’t want San to beat himself up if he couldn’t get it. You want Haseul to be safe… but, in a way, she’s safe here. As long as Hongjoong holds her over your head, he can’t hurt her, right? 

San sighs, taking his hands away from you to make his way over to his dresser. “I… did my best to help her. I think she should make it.” 

The words are an instant relief. You could nearly cry. “Really?” You keep your head turned toward the bathroom door, letting him dress behind you.  You would turn, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but the domesticity of seeing someone naked without any sexual intentions is too much for you right now. That can all be unpacked later. So you keep your head straight, no matter how much you want to look as he speaks to you. 

The bed dips on the other side and you take that as your cue to look. He’s laying on his stomach, pillow punched up in his arms. He didn’t put a shirt on. “I got her in her car, at least. She shouldn’t have much trouble, unless someone heard the engine start.” 

You do tear up, then. Holy shit, San really did it. He really got Haseul out of here. And that means… that means that you will be out of here, and fucking soon. You turn so that you’re fully on the bed again, sitting upright to look down at San. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” he smiles, untangling one of his arms to lay it around your waist. He scootches closer to you, his face in line with the waistband of your pajama pants. “It’ll all be okay, you know?” 

You laugh as he kisses your side, his lips tickling the sensitive skin. “I know, I’m just, I’m so happy, San. And I’m so… grateful. That you did this for me.” You brush his hair off the side of his face, tucking the longer strands behind his ear. 

He smiles against your side. “I’m happy that you’re happy. But I’m sorry to be back so late, you were probably worried, huh?” 

“Maybe a little bit,” you admit. “How did it all go, though? How did she seem? What did you do all day?” 

San takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he thinks. “She was… weary of me. Didn’t trust me at all, which made helping her a lot harder than I had been hoping. Once I convinced her that I was trying to help her, we kinda just hung out until it was late enough for me to get her car.” 

“No one came to check on her? All day?” You frown, wondering why she would’ve been left completely alone. When you first got here, you at least got your three meals a day brought to you. 

“Mingi was with her when I got there, I just told him Hongjoong had told me to take over with her.” San’s eyes are still closed. 

That brings back a bit of your dread. If Mingi was supposed to be watching her, and she got away… Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. This could be precisely what Hongjoong was needing… Oh God. Ohhhhhhh dear. 

Hopefully it won’t come to that. Haseul will be back with help, and soon. Help should get here before anything can be done, right? There’s no chance that… 

Mingi will be fine. You have to believe that. Mingi and Haseul are okay. San is okay. Everything is going to be a-okay. No one else is going to get hurt and absolutely no one is going to die. No way no how. 

“Are you worried?” He asks, disliking the sudden silence. “He’ll be okay. Everything will be. Lay down?” 

How does he sound so sure? Is he really that confident that everything will work out, or is he just trying to comfort you? You have no idea, but you do as he asks, repositioning yourself until you’re on your side, face to face with San. 

“She’s really okay?” You whisper, tucking your hands under your head. 

San’s arm wraps around you again, pulling you closer to him. “She’s perfectly fine.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, much as he had done earlier. “Please don’t worry.”

.・。.・゜✭ ⧖ ・.・ ⧖ ✫・゜・。.

Hongjoong slams the truck door shut behind him, already furious. If he was a less dignified man, he’d kick the tire as he walks past, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets his anger out through his voice. 

He’s already yelling before he even reaches the scene. “What the fuck is this?” He sweeps his hands in front of him, gesturing toward the mess. He stops across from Jongho, who looks no worse for the wear, despite his blood soaked shirt. It’s too dark to really see the color; it looks like Jongho is simply wearing a black shirt. But the way that the fabric clings to his skin is enough to know that its wet. And the girl in front of him is evidence enough of what could’ve possibly gotten him so messy. 

Jongho shrugs. “Dead body.” The blood is still seeping from her, the puddle growing bigger and bigger. Jongho stands in the puddle, but he doesn’t seem to have any motivation to move. His shoes are already ruined. Hongjoong, however, takes small steps backward every few seconds. 

Hongjoong’s jaw drops in anger. Obviously its a dead fucking body. He’s not blind. “Do you remember who I am, Jongho? Please, enlighten me.” 

Hongjoong lets Jongho get away with a lot. He likes him. Jongho is… the same as Hongjoong, he thinks. There are differences; Jongho probably couldn’t get the ASPD diagnosis that he’s carried since the bright day that was his 18th birthday. Jongho has been in love, Hongjoong knows that, and that’s really… the key difference, he thinks. Otherwise, Jongho’s brain is wired the same as his.

Jongho knows how to get what he wants. He’s not afraid to be manipulative. He’s charming to the outside observer, intrinsically charismatic. He loves to have power over people (probably the reason he enjoys killing so much). It’s useful to have him around, so Hongjoong is willing to let Jongho have more freedom than the others.

As much as Hongjoong lives for the thrill of power himself, he doesn’t particularly care for getting his hands dirty. He’d much rather keep control of living people than have momentary control over someone that’ll be dead in minutes. So Jongho is quite the guy to have around, even if he’s a pain in his ass sometimes.

“You said—”

“I know what I said, Jongho.” Hongjoong doesn’t appreciate Jongho’s tone. “However, I didn’t mean that you could kill her in the middle of the fucking road, where, I don’t know, anyone could see?” 

Jongho smiles at his leader, not the least bit intimidated. “Does it look like anyones around to see?” He gestures around the road, looking between the two fields to his left and right. “We just have to replace the gravel.”

Hongjoong grinds his teeth, rubbing his temples. Why can’t this shit ever happen in the daytime? He’s fucking tired. “You can get rid of the gravel. I’m going back to sleep.” He ignores Jongho’s first comment out of the desire for sleep. Despite his soft spot for the kid, he (typically) still doesn’t tolerate open disrespect. 

“What do I do with her?” Jongho asks as Hongjoong starts making his way back to the truck, almost having to yell after him with the speed that he’s moving. 

Hongjoong stops, smiling as he recalls this afternoon. It was always the plan for Haseul to die tonight, he only wishes (Y/n) had taken him up on his offer. It would’ve been a lot more fun to play again. He turns back to Jongho, his smile growing wider. 

“The pigs are hungry, I’m sure.” 

← previous || next → || masterlist

a/n: happy new year &lt;33

[readingandrelaxing]

Katherine Pierce: The Fan-Favourite Villian

OPINIONS NO ONE CARES ABOUT : EPISODE 3

Katherine is badass.

We all know this by now.

But one of the main reasons why people like her, is the fact that she is different and even better from the rest of the female characters on the show.

While the rest of the characters allow themselves to be used and abused for the benefit of others, Katherine always prioritises herself above everyone else. That's one of the main reasons why she has lived for so long even when the Original Hybrid was hunting her.

Also, if we see her dynamic with the Salvatore brothers, it is drastically different from their dynamic with Elena. As I've mentioned in my previous post about Elena when Katherine was with the Salvatore brothers, it was always her who was in control. Albeit, she was the vampire in that case and the Salvatores were humans, and her relationship with them is also toxic. But we must also never forget that Katherine did love them. She just prioritised her own life over her love for them.

Which brings me to my next point. This decision of hers makes her drastically different from not just Elena, but even the rest of the female characters on the show. Characters like Bonnie, Caroline etc, they're all very similar to each other in terms of their decisions. Sure, they are strong, independent women who can defend themselves but the moment their loved ones are threatened, everyone is ready to jump on the bandwagon as a meatshield to protect their loved ones.

Katherine is not like that. She is selfish, cunning and cruel, but she's also passionate, fierce and authentic. She knows how to love, she loves a few special people around her, but she's also smart enough to not put her own life in danger just to save someone else's. This provides a unique authenticity and complexity to her character, making her likeable and relatable.

Katherine is not the main character in the story. She's the character who comes and goes occasionally, yet, viewers look forward to her presence. And, she's not even a 'good' character. She's cruel and heartless. At least that's what the show wants us to think.

I won't try to defend her by saying that she wasn't cruel. Yes, she was. She has done horrible things in her life, and it is arguable whether she can be redeemed. But it is her cruelty and brutality which adds authenticity to her character. There is no other character like her, who is cruel and brutal and yet can feel qualities like love and care.

The love she had for Stefan and Damon was real. Some might argue that it wasn't, and these arguments make her an interesting character. She's debatable, her actions make someone think twice to form an opinion about her. Her character is complex and it has always divided fans.

Her complex character makes her unpredictable. With most other females on the show, it is almost guaranteed that the audience will guess what their reaction to the situation might be.

With Bonnie, everyone knows that she'll jump into the line of fire just to save her friends. Even when being obviously overpowered, she has the least importance which is honestly a sad thing to see. But that's a story for another day.

And then there's Caroline, who's usually ignored despite being willing to become a meatshield for her friends. She's ignored because she's 'less important' than Elena. Although, she's far more liked by fans than Elena but yet again, that's not for today.

And then there's our protagonist, Elena Gilbert. I already have one post about her, you can check it out here.

But what makes Katherine special, and better than these ladies is her unpredictability. When she was first introduced, many believed her to be a heartless b- but as the show went on, we got to the humane, more natural and mundane side of her. Her choices were varied, they weren't always selfish. They weren't always selfless either.

Her reactions to things were always different. You never know what Katherine is thinking.

And that makes her endearing, attractive and interesting.

Another notable aspect of Katherine is that exceptionally intelligent. She is a survivor in its true sense, being self-sufficient and perpetually vigilant. She knows how to take care of herself, she knows how to stay alive by herself. She doesn't rely on anybody, she knows what she wants and what she needs.

Though the main characters in the show are also intelligent, they're always in a group. They're a group of friends, looking out for each other and trying to keep each other alive. There is no one with Katherine. She has to do everything alone, and people find it easier to relate to that. Not everyone has a group of friends who'd take a bullet for you.

There's another important thing I'd like to address. Many would argue with me based on this since it is a controversial topic. But we have to acknowledge this.

Katherine knew that Stefan is the man you choose in life.

Not Damon.

Though Katherine loved both of them, she still chose Stefan over his brother. With good reason.

We have seen how explosive, mostly irrational, and hot-tempered Damon is. Unapologetically so. He doesn't care about right or wrong for the benefit of himself as well as the people he loves. Ironically, his behaviour is similar to Katherine's, while Elena and Stefan are of similar characteristics.

But that does not mean that Damon is the man you choose. Damon is the kind of man you friend zone, not fall in love with. He's controlling, up to the extent that he fed his own blood to Elena forcefully just to make sure that she wouldn't die while Klaus broke the curse. He was uncaring of the fact that she did not want to become a vampire and that she'd rather die. He had also snapped Jeremy's neck twice because Elena rejected him. Is this the kind of man women want to end up with?

Stefan is also protective, ferocious and ruthless to his enemies. But when it came down to it, he allowed Elena the dignity of her own choice. He respected her decisions, even when they'd land her in trouble. He helped her become her own independent person, and their relationship didn't reek of power imbalance despite one of them being an immortal vampire.

It might be a tough pill to swallow for most fans of the show, but we all must admit that Stefan is the better brother.

In conclusion, Katherine is an amazing, astounding character, but she has her own flaws and cons. She's headstrong, ruthless and manipulative, but also has a kind, loving, humane side to herself which makes her remarkable and unforgettable.

Thanks for reading!

[laughingsapphic-creates]

Inukag Fluff Week, day 1: Comfort

This is sort of an... Interlude? If sorts? To my day one post from inukag week at the beginning of the summer. Either story can be read as standalones, but they are compliant w/ one another, and if you enjoy this, I think you'll enjoy that. This takes place after the exposition but before the dialogue starts in that one

@inukagfluffweek

~~~~~~

You're There in the Dark

"Inuyasha?" Kagome whispered tentatively into the darkness of the hut. The fire had long since died, and Sango & Miroku had gone to bed in the other room with their children and left Kagome and Inuyasha alone in the main room. Only starlight from the window illuminated the home, the moon dark but for the dim ring that marked its presence in the sky. Kagome sat up, leaning against the wall so she could spot the silhouette between the stars.

Every month for three years, she had glared at the black mark in the sky with disdain as she sneaked out to the well house, silently praying that whatever deity or force had opened the portal in the well to begin with would allow her through again. When she found herself on the dirt floor at the bottom, she instead pleaded for Inuyasha's safety, tears stinging her eyes as she looked up to the roof of the well house instead of the open sky she longed for, untouched by the light pollution of the city. She had only gotten precious few human nights with him, and they had almost always been dangerous if not deadly. And she knew - she knew - that the others would protect him, and there was no Naraku to threaten his safety anymore, but she couldn't be there. She couldn't protect him from whatever might try and hurt him, and she hated knowing that.

Now though, he lay beside her, just as he had for the two weeks since her return to the medieval period. He had clung to her almost from the minute she'd returned, rarely stepping out of arm's reach for more than a moment. It had been the most welcome change among many that she had embraced eagerly while reestablishing herself in the feudal era. Of course they still argued. Almost daily, even. But she was much less likely to storm off in a huff if she was arguing from Inuyasha's lap. From her first night back, when Kagome had crawled to where he'd been seated to sleep and tucked herself under his arm, they had made a habit of curling up together. She'd finally gotten him to lay beside her last week, rather than propping himself up against the wall, but he still put himself between her and the door, the same way he always had when they slept indoors.

Tonight, she had very intentionally gotten up with the excuse of getting a cup of water and returned to his other side, taking the spot closer to the door. Acting as a barrier between the man she loved in his most vulnerable state, and anything and everything that might seek to do him harm. He'd arched a brow at her, but she gave him a look that brokered no argument, and he made none, his face going a bit red in the low light of the small fire they had used to cook dinner.

Taking a deep breath, Kagome turned to look at the sleeping form besides her, smiling softly. His dark human hair was much less visible than his usual stark white in the barely-there light, but Kagome could make out the shape of his face, peaceful and relaxed by sleep. Reaching up, Kagome ran her fingers gently through his hair, tracing the shape of his human ear.

She couldn't see his eyebrows furrow, but she imagined they must have when she heard a soft grunt.

"K'gome?"

"Right here," She assured quietly, smoothing her fingers through his hair. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.

She heard a soft huff of breath and the slide of fabric on fabric as he reached over, and she felt two strong arms wrap around her waist.

"Get back here, wench," he muttered, face half-pressed to her waist. Kagome giggled, stroking his hair again.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised, smiling into the darkness. He stayed there a bit longer before rolling over, looking up at her from where his head now rested in her lap. Her hand came to rest on his chest, covered only by the white underlayer of his suikan. The fire rat overlayer, which they had used as a blanket when they first laid down, was now mostly crumpled beneath him.

"You okay?" He asked after a long moment of silence, and she could feel his eyes on her.

"... Do you remember the first new moon I spent with you?"

He was quiet for a beat, and then groaned softly. "Ugh. The spider priest."

"That's the one," she nodded, mirth in her voice as her fingers toyed gently with the collar of his shirt. "I think… that was the first time it really hit me that you weren't as indestructible as you seemed," she confessed, placing her free hand over her heart. "I'd seen you get hurt before that, but you'd always bounced back. When you told me to run, to save myself... I was so terrified that I was going to lose you."

"You let me lay in your lap like this then, too," he remembered after a moment, turning his head towards her stomach. "... It was the first time since my mother was alive that someone worried about my safety like that."

"And then I never stopped," she chuckled, smoothing his collar back into place. "I know how strong you are, and that you can handle most situations, but it's never stopped me from worrying."

She thought about the last few dark moons; it hadn't taken long for her family to catch on to where she was disappearing to. After she explained Inuyasha's night of vulnerability, they'd been their usual level of understanding. Often she'd wake up slumped against the well with a blanket over her shoulders, or with Sota curled up against her side. It got easier as time passed, but she had never once gone a new moon without feeling that visceral fear that something would happen on the other side of the well without her there to help protect him. The memory alone made the dull ache of the fear flare up again, and her fingers clenched in his shirt.

"Not once."

She looked down again when she felt his hand slide over hers, strong callused fingers wrapping around her own.

"When you were gone… I spent most new moons down the well," he confessed, the pad of his thumb running over the smooth skin of her wrist. "Once the others figured it out, they started coming with, sitting out in the field, so they were always nearby. I just… wanted to be close to you.

Kagome smiled softly, tears pricking at the back of her eyes. Blinking them back, she turned her hand in his, lifting his so she could kiss his knuckle.

"They say great minds think alike, but fools rarely differ," she hummed, lowering their clasped hands to his collar again. "And you know I've always been a fool for you."

The first gray light of dawn began to lend shape to their surroundings, and she could truly see him looking up at her now, his dark human eyes starting to go golden around the edges.

"I'm so glad you're here, Kagome," he admitted, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"It's good to be home."

[theflyingfeeling]

Fourth Day of Gift-Giving: Four Flour Fails

Prompt: Their baking attempt ended up in a flour fight and with a small innocent puppy who now looked like a ghost dog

There is only one main character in this chapter and you all know who she is 🐶 Thanks for everyone who's read this story so far, I hope you've enjoyed it 🥺 The previous part can be found here 💕

~

Olli’s hair smelled of forest. Aleksi wasn’t sure how that was possible, but it did. He guessed it must have been because of the shampoo bottle Aleksi had seen in Olli’s bathroom, with a stylized drawing of pine twigs on the label, but part of him also wanted to believe it was some kind of magic, or that Olli was secretly a forest deity of some sort. Either way, Aleksi could not get enough of it, burying his nose in Olli’s curls over and over again, taking deep breaths to relish the sweet scent, all the while trying to resist the temptation of planting small kisses on the crown of Olli’s head. He thought they perhaps weren’t quite there yet, despite having gone way past innocent smooches weeks ago already.

For now, just lying in bed with Olli in his arms was more than enough. Aleksi still couldn’t make sense of what exactly had possessed him for him to be so bold at bedtime the night before, which, at last, had lead them to where they were now, but with Olli’s peaceful breaths tickling the sensitive skin on Aleksi’s neck, he was glad it had happened. It had been a shot in the dark, more or less, but it was the only chance he had had, since he had been foolish enough to ask Olli to share his bed with him; no doubt, Aleksi would have lost his mind for good if they had then just lied in the dark side by side, frozen in place, too anxious to hold each other close like they were supposed to, at least in Aleksi’s daydreams.

Indeed, Aleksi felt as if he was living one right now. Olli was like a daydream: soft and warm and incredible, and maybe just a little unreal.

“Mmmmmmmmhhh,” Olli hummed next to him and turned to lie on his back, forcing Aleksi to scoot closer if he wished to keep enjoying the foresty smell of Olli’s locks.

(He did.)

“Whatcha wanna do today?” Olli asked him, a hint of a smile in his tone. 

Aleksi had to mentally browse through a collection of answers that were either too much and too sudden, all things considered, (‘could we just lie here like this the whole day, warm and comfortable and happy?’) or too vulgar (‘you’) before he decided on something he could actually say out loud.

“Just something simple I guess. We could cook together or–”

“What, do you not trust me to cook for you anymore?”

Aleksi muffled his giggles in Olli’s hair.

“Just an idea.”

They lazed around in Olli’s bed for a little longer, not really doing much but enjoying each other’s presence, which was a welcome change to the tension that had threatened to overtake Aleksi’s visit in the north. When they could no longer procrastinate starting off their day – preparing breakfast and taking Rilla out for her morning walkies – they got up and did exactly that, still not talking a whole lot, but at least Aleksi felt way more content with the silence between them this time around. He wondered if Olli felt the same, and perhaps he did, if Aleksi was to judge by the small smiles Olli kept giving him over the breakfast table or while they walked at a leisurely pace in the crisp morning weather that suddenly didn’t feel half as cold as it had the day before. Such was the power of Olli’s smile, Aleksi reckoned.

The noon was spent mostly entertaining Rilla, although Aleksi for one was also hugely entertained by watching Olli laugh at Rilla’s antics and blush just a little when he finally noticed Aleksi looking at him (Aleksi, on the other hand? why, Aleksi Kaunisvesi was beyond such things, and even if his cheeks did warm up when he was caught staring, it was solely because the frost outside had bitten his cheeks particularly severely). When Rilla grew tired of playing, she promptly made herself comfortable on Olli’s lap again, shamelessly taking advantage of this new-found source of attention, and Aleksi too couldn’t help but rest his head on Olli’s shoulder, now that he knew he wouldn’t flinch away.

“She’s the cutest,” Olli said quietly, looking down at Rilla, gently petting her fur.

“I know.” Aleksi scratched her behind her ear, earning a long, happy sigh as his reward, which filled his whole chest with bubbling love. 

“I’d hate to disturb her though, but we need to go to the grocery store soon if we’re actually gonna cook something today. There’s nothing but the light in my fridge.”

Although it pained him to do so, Aleksi lifted his head from the crook of Olli’s neck where it fitted so well and sat up straight, taking out his phone.

“Could we just order some groceries in instead? It’s cold as fuck out there anyway, and sorry but I’m not sitting in that freezer of yours you call ‘a car’ until you have the A/C fixed.”

It wasn’t even the wittiest sample of Aleksi’s dry humour, but Olli giggled at it anyway, almost in stiches. As for Aleksi, he was hooked on the sound of Olli’s laughter, so he made a mental note of trying to crack as many stupid jokes as he could during his visit to hear it over and over and over again; often enough so that he could replay it in his head like his favourite record whenever he missed Olli too much.

~*~

There were certain pros and cons to online grocery shopping: on one hand, you never had to leave the comfort of your house if you were out of milk or happened to be craving some sweets but couldn’t for the life of you be bothered to stick your nose outside (especially if the temperature was roughly twenty degrees below zero). On one hand, it was very easy to order two whole cartons of eggs instead of one with just one slip of your finger.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with two dozen eggs, Aleksi?!”

Aleksi pursed his lips, feeling sorry for having accidentally caused a minor egg crisis in the Matela household by not having bothered to double-check their groceries order.

“We could bake a cake?”

“We did order a carton of whipping cream.” The look in Olli’s eyes told Aleksi he was already buying into his suggestion.

“Two cartons, actually."

(Yeah, maybe Aleksi could try being a little careful with the numbers next time.)

“And there are some berries in the freezer. A blueberry cake!”

And so the Great Egg Crisis was resolved and laughed about – at least until Aleksi saw the mess Olli was making as he measured the ingredients for the layer cake, brows furrowed as he studied the recipe they had found online. Aleksi would’ve helped, but he feared they would never eat dinner that night if he left Olli in charge of cooking the steaks. That was why he kept a subtle eye on Olli while seasoning the cutlets and another one on Rilla who kept scurrying by their feet begging for attention, but the second it was time for him to prepare the sauce – that is, the second he wasn’t looking – a hand appeared to wipe a white stripe on the side of his black t-shirt as if out of nowhere. However, judging by the colour of Olli’s hand and the menace in his eyes, it didn’t take long for Aleksi to figure out what he was about.

“The fuck?!”

Olli giggled and slapped his hand on Aleksi again, this time on his chest, leaving a white hand-shaped flour imprint on it. Seeing the evident surprise on Aleksi’s face had Olli almost bend over in chuckles at his masterful gag. 

“You’re such a child,” Aleksi muttered, hardly convincingly, his own hand already in the flour bag. His revenge was successful, as in the next moment, the front of Olli’s sweater was all but covered in white.

“Hey!” Olli objected, as if he was the victim, but Aleksi was already preparing his next blow with a fist full of flour.

Breathless laughter and a whirling cloud of white filled Olli’s small kitchen. In the midst of it all, Aleksi couldn’t exactly tell when the flourfight turned into a match of standing wrestling, with Olli shrieking every time Aleksi tickled his sides, nor was he any longer aware of the state of the sauce he was supposed to be stirring, not to mention the steaks that should've been flipped minutes ago. After all, there were much pressuring tasks for him to tend to, such as smothering Olli’s perfect hair with potato flour and smudging some cocoa powder on his annoyingly pretty face. They paused their childish shenanigans only when Rilla’s surprised little squeak snapped them out of it.

“Ohhhh no, Rilla!” Aleksi was too full of endorphins to hide his amusement as he saw the state of poor Rilla, with half of the contents of a flour bowl tipped all over her. The rest were on the floor by their feet, staining their socks and pant legs. 

“Poor little one,” he kept giggling, trying to shrug Rilla’s fur clean. “Olli, look what you did!”

“Me?! Sorry but I think it was your elbow that knocked that bowl down. I did nothing but defend myself!” Olli argued, a playful smile still on his lips, although his eyes were already growing a little worried as they took in the chaos they had created together.

“In any case, she’s gonna need a bath now. Come on girl, nawww, I’m so sorry!” Aleksi spoke to the the flour-covered dog, who still seemed a little clueless as to how she had ended up in the middle of a kitchen civil war. Then Aleksi picked her up in his arms and headed towards the bathroom; unlike Olli, he didn’t even dare inspect the state of the kitchen in too much detail yet. Instead, he nudged Olli to join them. “I’m gonna need your help with this one, she hates baths.”

~*~

If Aleksi wasn’t already completely taken by Olli, seeing how good he was with Rilla – who wasn’t the most easily befriendable of dogs, being a dachshund and all – made Aleksi swoon for the man. He already knew he was going to miss Olli terribly once they’d be apart again, just in general of course, but especially the next time he needed to give Rilla a sponging; to have an extra pair of hands distracting the dog from the bath crimes being committed against her sure made rinsing her fur a whole lot easier. In fact, it was all going so well that Aleksi may have showered her neck a little longer than necessary, just so he could listen to Olli’s babytalk at Rilla just a little longer and see how smitten Rilla was for him, wagging her little tail the entire time (which also never happened when Aleksi washed her).

“You’re such a good girl!” Aleksi praised her when giving her the final rubs from what Aleksi believed to be Olli’s softest towel. Then he sent her off to defiantly sulk in her dog bed, as she’d soon remember she was supposed to be cross with Aleksi for putting her through such devious torture.

“Oof,” Aleksi sighed as he stood up from the tiled floor of Olli’s bathroom, straightening his shirt that was still covered in flour, despite his efforts at swiping most of it off while giving Rilla a bath.

He had a strange feeling Olli was staring at him, so he looked up at his friend. Aleksi assumed they were mirror images of each other, with their stained clothes, dishevelled hair and blushed cheeks, but beside all that, he saw something different in Olli’s eyes; something that made Aleksi’s breath grow shallow with all the memories it stirred in him.

“You… you got a little something there,” Olli said, pointing at Aleksi’s cheek. 

Aleksi had no means – nor intentions for that matter – to resist an old-time trick like that.

“Where?” he played along, urging Olli to go on.

And Olli did, closing the short distance between them, his eyes fixed on a spot near Aleksi’s lips. 

Aleksi held his breath, afraid that any wrong action might result in them taking two steps back again instead of one forward.

“Right there,” Olli whispered and lifted his hand to Aleksi’s chin, swiping away an invisible spot off the corner of his lips before bringing them to his own.

[jinngonjin]

part 3!

warnings: slightly suggestive

characters featured : plo koon, commander wolffe, hunter.

summary: Jyn and the boys find themselves stationed alongside Master Plo Koon and his wolf pack. Yet Hunter is on edge, grappling with his emotions with every passing second.

As time passed, still grappling with the turmoil of their feelings, both Jyn and Hunter grew accustomed to their discomfort around one another. Despite their efforts to bury these emotions away, they often lingered beneath the surface, threatening to break away. On multiple occasions they found themselves too close to one another, hands brushing ever so slightly, eyes locked, almost as though to intimidate one another into a confession. Yet both of them did not falter, only brushing these interventions away as though they meant nothing.

Conveniently, they were stationed on a mission along Plo Koon and his Wolf pack, the 104th battalion. This gave the two of them more reason not to engage with one another, especially in the presence of a Jedi master. The mission provided them with a convenient excuse to avoid each other's company, their interactions kept to a minimum in the presence of their esteemed allies.

Plo Koon was one of the few Jedi to respect Jyn, they had a previous brief encounter when she was stationed as an alchemist on a mission to free an ancient Jedi temple. Though in exile, Yoda often deployed Jyn on very brief missions to make use of her extensive skill and knowledge in alchemy and the sciences. He was aware that in all the time she had in exile, she buried herself in books and documents. It was an aspect that Yoda respected, but nevertheless feared.

Jyn cleared her throat as she made her way down the ramp, "Master Plo Koon, it's an honor to have you and the Wolf Pack join us on this mission.

“General Jyn, the pleasure is mine. Your reputation precedes you, where else am I to find a squad with a hundred percent success rate?” “most impressive, most impressive” he reassured.

Jyn could see commander Wolffe slightly nod, she could also sense the turmoil radiating within her squad. Especially Crosshair, as he seemed to be the most uncomfortable around regs.

“Oh you flatter me master, it’s been awhile since Tython, you’d find that the war changed all of us”

Plo Koon led the way to his counseling chambers, Jyn followed expecting a private briefing but was certainly surprised when Plo offered a pour of Spotchka.

“How has your new position been treating you, General Jyn.”

“Well, I have a fine squad of men, perhaps the greatest the galaxy has seen” Jyn chuckled and Plo Koon nodded agreeingly

“And so I’ve heard” but then he added “ The clones, all of them are fine men, it’s painful to see them treated like expendable tools” Plo Koon sighs, and with that he rests his now empty glass on the table.

Jyn shoots him a questioning look “and what’s even stranger, master, the council does not seem to mind this, must it be the Jedi way?”

Plo Koon's expression softened at Jyn's candid remark,slightly shifting at her open criticism. Yet, there was a subtle respect in his response, an acknowledgment of the truth in her words.

"You raise a valid point, General Jyn," Plo Koon began, his voice tinged with a solemnity that mirrored Jyn's concerns. "The clones are indeed more than mere tools of war. They possess individuality, emotions, and a sense of honor that should not be overlooked."

Plo Koon's gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts seemingly lost in contemplation. "The Jedi way is not without its flaws, General. We strive for peace and justice, but sometimes our methods can be... flawed."Plo Koon did not dare to meet Jyn’s eyes, for deep down he knew that the Jedi have not only wronged her, but broke her, and yet she's still here she is trying to desperately prove herself.

“We have a while until we reach the station, I’ve organized a dinner, tonight you and I, and the boys”

Jyn was again surprised by Plo’s suggestions, she found him to be far less stern than the traditional Jedi she was accustomed to working with, most interesting to Jyn given she was stuck with Mace Windu, who’d pick on everything she said, to him every breath could mean treason against the republic.

"Thank you, Master Plo Koon," Jyn responded, her tone genuine as she met his gaze. "I appreciate the gesture. It will be good for the squad to have some downtime together."

Something in Jyn begged her to ask Plo Koon right there and then, but she wouldn't bear to burden him with what plagued her mind.

Yet it persisted.

Sidious

Palpatine

Sidious

She couldn't shake it off, the name Sidious sent a shiver down her spine, she could not understand why the force would whisper it to her whenever she was in the proximity of the senator. Almost like something within him is calling her. But she's seen that name before, a file about Dooku and Kenobi, a file so heavily encrypted she could only dissect a few words. But Sidious, Sidious was one of them.

“General? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just thinking about the war”

“Hmm, yes, yes the war”

“I’ll see you for dinner, Master” With that Jyn returned to her assigned quarters, the thought still heavy in her mind, but she brushed it away again.

She kept the lights dimmed in her quarters, not bothering to illuminate the room when she stepped in. Instead, she unwrapped the top of her tunics and threw it onto the bed. It seems Plo Koon’s ship had housekeeping droids that already folded her clothes for her, placing them all carefully in the closet.

Hmm, I should get one of those… maybe then we'll be able to see the floor of Tech’s room.

“General.”

Jyn jumped, startled, not having noticed Hunter's presence until that moment. She turned to find him sitting there, his expression unreadable.

Jyn's heart skipped a beat, her muscles tensing as she whirled around to find Hunter standing there, his presence unexpected and unsettling.

"Hunter," she managed, her voice slightly breathless with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Hunter's gaze was intense as he regarded her, his expression inscrutable. "Just checking in," he replied casually, though there was an underlying tension in his demeanor.

He was lying, he definitely was. Jyn thought to herself, eyebrows furrowing at him.

“Then I was right, there is definitely something on your mind… or else you would have sensed me” he tutted, it sounded almost as though he was criticizing her.

Jyn cleared her throat once again, “I was not expecting company”

“But your guard is always up”

“usually” he added.

“What do you want, Hunter?” there was a tone of sadness in her voice, it cracked so subtly, but of course, Hunter had picked up. He let go of his smug facade putting back his casual, soothing voice.

“I just wanted to ask, what are you wearing tonight?” he inquired, his eyes flickering over her form.

“What?” Jyn’s expression betrayed her, she wanted to laugh, but was certainly confused by what Hunter just said.

“You came here for fashion advice?” she chuckled.

But Hunter still kept a solid look on his face, his stern expression unfaltering as though he was still waiting for an answer.

“I haven’t decided yet” She turned back to her closet, scanning the clothes she had brought with her.

Hunter moved slowly, until he was dangerously closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. She could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath warm against the skin of her back.

"Since when did you have these tattoos?" His voice was low, sending a shiver down her spine as he gestured towards her exposed skin.

Jyn's breath caught in her throat as she realized the extent of her vulnerability. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest, a flush rising to her cheeks as she struggled to regain her composure. But Hunter's proximity was unnerving, his gaze penetrating as he watched her with a mixture of curiosity and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

Jyn's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she regarded Hunter, her lips curling into a sly smile. "You think I really stayed in that rotting temple all the time?" she teased, her voice low and tinged with amusement. She let out a dark chuckle. Leaning in closer, as if to share a secret, she began to recount her venture to the lower levels of Coruscant, her tone suggestive and filled with innuendo. "Let's just say, I found a different kind of sanctuary," she murmured, her words hanging in the air with an enticing allure.

As she spoke of befriending a tattoo artist, Jyn's expression softened, a fondness evident in her eyes. "He saw something in me, thought I was some bounty hunter" she explained, "And I... I became his muse."

Hunter couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he listened to Jyn's tale, his mind racing with questions and uncertainties. What had really transpired between her and the tattoo artist? What had drawn them together, and what secrets did they share?

Jyn picked up a long dress and a matching cape, “I'll think i'll go with this”

Hunter's gaze lingered on the fabric, noting its modesty with a sense of relief. “Good,” he sternly said.

Unbeknownst to Jyn, what inspired Hunter’s intrusion was not trouble with the regs as she had initially thought, but instead, they were bonding really well, too well. Enough for Wolffe to accidentally get on his nerves.

“You’ve got yourself a great jedi master,” noted wrecker. “Plo’s Bros, classic.”

“could say the same about you, you’ve got yourselves a fine general” Wolffe emphasized on the fine, indicating that he was not exactly referring to her mannerisms.

Sinker whistled, playfully smacking Hunter on his back, “a fine fine general”

And then he added, “jokes aside, how the hell can you boys even focus… damn it I wouldnt last a day on the job”

Hunter's jaw clenched at the remark. Suppressing his frustration, Hunter forced a tight-lipped smile, masking his inner turmoil as he replied, “We focus because we have to, Commander. It’s what we were trained for.” But even as he spoke, the unease lingered. Wolffe raised an eyebrow at Echo who just shook his head in response.

Hunter rose suddenly, and without a word, he left.

“What’s the matter with him?” Wolffe questioned.

Crosshair tutted, lighting another cigarette, “You spoke of his dear general… tsk.. what do you expect”

“Crosshair! you’re going to trigger the fire alarm, I suggest you put this cigarette off immediately”

“Piss off, Tech”

————————————————————————

As Jyn pondered Hunter's reaction, a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. What if he's jealous? The thought amused her more than she cared to admit. With a playful glint in her eyes, she decided to push the boundaries further, opting for perhaps the skimpiest dress she owned.

Her fingers danced over the fabric, settling on her signature dark purple and navy colors. The dress boasted a square neckline, hinting at just enough skin to leave an impression. Its open back added a touch of allure, showing off a long spine tattoo. The sheer long skirt, adorned with intricate designs, swirled with every movement, drawing attention to her figure. And the high, noticeable slit? Well, it spoke volumes, promising a glimpse of what lay beneath.

As Jyn slipped into the dress, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.

@knightprincess @skellymom