#for a variety of reasons but one of them being that soon after he was born he started getting....a feeling

[magical-girl-coral]

I've been going through D20's fandom wiki page and I've noticed how all of the Rat Grinders seem to be copying the successful abilities of others rather to doing their own thing. Ruben is a Whispers bard because Fig was one, Mary Ann is a berserker because Gorgug was one as well, and while there isn't a Bad Kids Archer, Ivy seem to be a Ranger/Fight arcane archer combo because Antiope is a world renowned Ranger/Fighter arcane Archer combo. Even Oisin was stealing Adaine's magic and Kipperlilly was a type A of Penelope Everpetal from the secret motivation behind her election to the blue skin friend that mysteriously disappeared.

It really feels like either Porter controlled their development to what he believes would be best to go with or they were too scatter minded post shatter star to make their own decisions so Porter took advantage of that to bold them into his image.

So here's what I think their subclasses would be in a post Porter World;

Ruben: Collage of the Road

Synopsis: Not an officially recognized college, the College of the Road represents the personal and eclectic sets of skills, knowledge, and techniques a wandering bard picks up along their journey. As inveterate jacks-of-all-trades, bards possess a variety of aptitudes in combat, magecraft, and general know-how, making them particularly well suited to learning a variety of different skills. It often happens that while traveling, a bard winds up sharing their campfire with a motley assortment of wandering adventurers who may impart valuable lessons in exchange for a lively song or a well-told tale. Compared to students of other Bard Colleges, a special kind of sensibility is important for the College of the Road. How effectively a bard of this College can apply what they have learned depends on their understanding and insight. The College of the Road is sometimes a harsh teacher, but bards who follow this path often find themselves rewarded with a diverse array of useful tricks and tactics. Those who underestimate a bard from the College of the Road soon find that these "graduates" are full of surprises.

Reasoning: Ruben would probably return to his beach bum ways after being free from the rage crystal, but I doubt he would want to go back to an "official" college. After everything with Porter, I imagine he would value the freedom to do whatever he wants more than ever and being a road bard will allow just that. No restrictions or someone telling you what to do; just going with the flow down the long recovery road.

Besides, he will probably be on the road for a long time after he convinces his party to start a band with him after leaving behind whatever the frick My Gnomical Romance was. He is this close from convincing them to pick up a musical instrument.

Mary Ann: Path of the Totem Warrior

Synopsis: The Path of the Totem Warrior is a spiritual journey, as the barbarian accepts a spirit animal as guide, protector, and inspiration. In battle, your totem spirit fills you with supernatural might, adding magical fuel to your barbarian rage.

Most barbarian tribes consider a totem animal to be kin to a particular clan. In such cases, it is unusual for an individual to have more than one totem animal spirit, though exceptions exist.

Reasoning: I love the idea of Mary Ann getting into Squishmallows because her grandma invented the first reptile teddy bear of Spyre for reptilian races like Kobolts and all Squishmallows are just descended of that invention. As a way to get closer to her grandmother, Mary Ann picks the bear as her spirit, as a way to always feel connected with her, even when she's away on adventures, becoming her grandmother's vision for the future.

When asked if she's going to miss her Mindless Rage advantages, Mary Ann answers; "I have been mindless for a year. I've had enough of that for a long time."

Ivy: Gloomstalker/Rune Knight

Synopsis: Rune Knights enhance their martial prowess using the supernatural power of runes, an ancient practice that originated with giants. Rune cutters can be found among any family of giants, and you likely learned your methods first or second hand from such a mystical artisan. Whether you found the giant's work carved into a hill or cave, learned of the runes from a sage, or met the giant in person, you studied the giant's craft and learned how to apply magic runes to empower your equipment.

Reasoning: Since Oisin and Ivy are canonically best friends and deeply close, I'd like to imagine both of them helping the other work out ironing out the kinks in their abilities. Ivy would start leaning about runes with Oisin's help who took glyph classes since Freshmen year. Combining her old knowledge with new one, Ivy's arrows become extremely deadly thanks to the runes she carves into them.

I didn't change her Gloomstalker subclass since it seems to be one of the few things that remained the same after getting shatter starred. No other character in Fantasy High has this and it matches Ivy's aloof personality.

Oisin: Remains as School of Conjuration

Synopsis: As a conjurer, you favor spells that produce objects and creatures out of thin air. You can conjure billowing clouds of killing fog or summon creatures from elsewhere to fight on your behalf. As your mastery grows, you learn spells of transportation and can teleport yourself across vast distances, even to other planes of existence, in an instant.

Reasoning: Like Ivy's Gloomstalker, Oisin's conjuration seemed to one of the few things that belonged to him rather than something was a part of Porter's plan. Those tattoos did not come from the any influence other than Oisin's and I will die on this hill.

HOWEVER.

He absolutely goes through a training montage with Ivy to focus on other proficients. His main focus becomes balancing out his other stats, mostly on strength, dexterity and constitution so that he wouldn't be useless in battle if he is put under Silence. There is nothing more satisfying than a villain thinking he made the party's wizard useless only for the wizard to sucker punch them in the face.

Kipperlilly: Phantom

Synopsis: Many rogues walk a fine line between life and death, risking their own lives and taking the lives of others. While adventuring on that line, some rogues discover a mystical connection to death itself. These rogues take knowledge from the dead and become immersed in negative energy, eventually becoming like ghosts. Thieves' guilds value them as highly effective information gatherers and spies.

Reasoning: While in hell, Kipperlilly had to come with the grip that her plan failed in every imaginable way. Deciding to embrace her fall from grace to the maximum, Kipperlilly became one with her death, moving through walls and people like a ghost haunting the hells. It's not like she has any allies around to help, and everyone around her too deranged from hells' influence to be able to manipulate. At least by being a specter, she can avoid many enemies and pass through devils without anyone knowing better. If she can't get better, at least she can be worse with everyone else.

But if the rest of her party comes down to hell to save her, I can see her becoming the Mastermind again. Except this time it's after weeks of group therapy with her friends and she actually focuses on helping them in battle.

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Thinking about Deuteronomy again, being that first point of contact for most cats in being welcomed into their family, newborns and new additions alike, but I'm thinking specifically about cats who were perhaps born into their group, left, and *then* came back, and how those are usually situations where Deuteronomy can sort of...tell if they'll be back when they do leave. He can't say anything about it, but he knows. Cats who know him very well can almost catch the expression that indicates one way or the other when he's informed of their leaving if he believes they'll be back. And - outside of the occasional anomaly - he's usually right about it.

He remembers, distantly, holding a little grey queenkit in his arms during one of his visits years and years ago, fresh faced and lovely, thinking: "This one will do big things" - not great things, not even potentially successful things, but big things nonetheless. He remembers a whisper of her little voice filled with confidence fading suddenly into silence; remembers thinking he hoped she would eventually find whatever it was she couldn't here, that she would find her way back when it was time, carefully avoiding the even stare of her mother as he passed her back.

And when he holds that little grey queen in his arms decades later, just when he thought he'd been wrong, only a little bigger, the sharp curves of her bones jutting from her fur, face so much older now, he sees that little one again, and smiles. Murmurs: "Welcome home", before he passes her onto the stars, hoping she finds her way back again to make up for lost time.

[stxrvel]

the one where i said fuck you and you cried (3)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! a lot of curse words, a lot of self-deprecation and low self esteem. no proofread. this is nawt silly writing, we're diving right into the aNgSt. jumpscare? iykyk a/n. hi guys! this was a rollercoaster for me to write, but i hope it doesn't come as harsh as i think it is. pls let me know what you think in the comments!! see you next week!!

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You had gone through a scenario like that in your head several times. A variety of moments, conversations and looks that always ended in the same unpleasant, inevitable and demoralizing way: you were forgotten by the people you loved most in the world. Only when you reached 18 would you realize how heartbreaking the dull thud of the silence of indifference was, how sharp and icy the loneliness was, how it penetrated and paralyzed your bones; but at that time, at 16, you could still convince yourself that all those things were only in your head and would always be there.

“Now that you're the last to go, you guys are much more likely to forget about me.”

“Of course not! In fact, as soon as I start earning money I'll save up to take you with us.”

Jungkook shook his head, his narrowed eyes judging you as if having insecurities was a sin. You believed his words at that moment, because being the last one still with you, 'cause you were going to graduate from school in the same year, it was the only thing you could do. Hold on to the idea that you really weren't going to be forgotten, because the mere conception of a future without your best friends was inconceivable.

“Jimin-hyung said he was going to try to call more often,” your friend went on, his eyes fixed on the bass on his lap and his important task of leaving it neat before returning it to its holy post in the school's music room. “I haven't talked to them in about three days.”

Jimin and Taehyung had left just a couple of months ago, but thanks to the opportunities opened to them with their incredible willingness, discipline and some string twitching on Namjoon's part, they had managed to get into a great academy to train and fulfill their dreams.

That also brought with it, as irreversible side effects, that your communication with them was drastically reduced. You had to constantly remind yourself and Jungkook that it was out of their control. With their future at stake, there was something for which they had to exert extreme effort and for which to sacrifice some other things.

“It's normal that they don't have as much time as they used to, Kookie.” You lowered your head, noticing the way his hands delicately handled the instrument on his legs. Since Jimin and Taehyung had left there was no time of day when you could tear yourself away from Jungkook, which is why you accompanied him to his extracurricular music lessons when you really should have been studying for the college entrance exam. “Life after school gets really hectic.”

“I've heard that college life is quieter.” Jungkook twisted his lips, wiping between the strings and his fingerprints left on the bass every time he moved it back and forth to clean it. It was an almost irresistible cycle.

“The only one at college right now is Seokjin and even about him we haven't heard much.” You leaned back against the piano, noticing Jungkook's movements pause for a moment as he surely reminisced about the few times he had been able to talk to Jin that month.

It had been two years since Seokjin had graduated and traveled all the way to the capital to study medicine. Needless to say, it was more than clear that communication with Jin would be almost nil from then on, but Jungkook always used to pout about it.

“It's just that Jin-hyung also chose a rather demanding career.” Jungkook twisted his lips, as if suppressing Jin in his head, waving the microfiber towel over the edges of the bass.

“And the others are trying too hard to carve their way through. It can be as complicated as going out to look for a job right after graduating.”

Jungkook nodded, admiring his cleaning job with a frown. He looked so focused that it caught you by surprise when he spoke again.

“You already know if you're going to college, noona? We're graduating this year.”

You blinked once, twice, three times. His nonchalant self went back to waving the towel over nonexistent smudges as you breathed in and decided not to go that route. “Will you?”

Jungkook raised his head, pausing his movements for a moment to try to analyze your gaze. With a sigh, he let out your poorly disguised way of shifting the focus of the conversation to get up and hang the instrument, glowing, on the wall of the music room.

“I don't know yet… Namjoon-hyung says he can help me.”

“Isn't it your dream, why do you doubt it?”

“I'm not sure, noona. What if I don't measure up? What if I fail?”

When your friend turned away, the mirror to his soul showed his vulnerability dancing on the edge of his eyelids. His distrust constricted your heart, a hand closing around your throat at the inner conflicts you knew Jungkook used to have and in the face of which you often couldn't do anything about because he didn't usually share such things.

“Then you try again.”

“Noona…” Jungkook wanted to grumble, it was obvious from the way his eyes moved to the ceiling, his head cocking as if he was about to give you a big life lesson on why you can't survive on motivational phrases.

But Jungkook was a softie about such things, even if he tried to hide it.

“Jungkook, you are literally a golden promise. No process is ever easy, especially in the industry you want to get into, but don't think for a second that you're going to outgrow it. You're one of the most capable people I've ever met.”

Your friend stopped his steps, when after hanging up the bass he was returning to your post in front of you, raising his head as if caught committing a prank. But the vulnerability in his eyes remained, and by the way they shone in the dim light of the room, still blinking to try to contain the emotion, you knew your words had tugged at just that thorn in his heart you were trying to pull out.

“Thank you, noona.”

“I'm just telling the truth.” You lifted a shoulder, shaking your head nonchalantly like it was no big deal, and Jungkook just let out an amused chuckle.

“You do know we'd never forget about you, right? How could we?”

-

“How could we?”

Yuna shook her head, frowning at her phone, oblivious to the way you cringed at her choice of words.

“She's bringing celebrities into the store and she want us to leave? Don't we work so well that we always take the top employee of the month spot even though it should only be held by one person? Don't we deserve that gift?”

You watched her, marveling at how after just a few seconds so many emotions could build up into an overwhelming knot in your chest. The old notes of an old piano played in the back of your head, bringing to the surface memories of when life was easier; when you thought you had it all and nothing would ever be better than that; when you thought you were enough.

“So what do you plan to do about it?” you blinked, focusing on the notation of bills in your notebook with an invisible hand squeezing your heart.

There was no use thinking about such things after so long.

Yuna pursed her lips, her expression serious and forceful. “I think we should have a sit-in.”

“We should? That sounds like more than one person.”

“Do you disagree with me?”

“I'm happy with going home early, especially on a Friday, you know?”

“y/n,” Yuna came up to your face over the cash register display case, her forearms resting on the glass and her eyes so bright with determination you were sure her head could light the whole store on fire the way she was scheming and scheming, running around like her life depended on it, “we could be close to meeting the seven gods of Olympus, and you think the best thing to do is go home?”

“Just in case you forgot, I have a business to run now.” You reminded her, moving to poke her with your middle finger all over her forehead and push her away from the cash register now that a new customer had come in.

“What business should a business matter when you could meet the reason for existence itself?”

Yuna dropped onto the display case, her body sliding like jelly until only her head was left on the glass. You and the new customer watched her, her arms limp at her sides and her gaze lost. A lone tear running down the bridge of her nose.

“God, you're so dramatic.”

“Does that mean yes?” Her head snapped up like a spring, a big smile scaring the soul out of the customer who ducked behind your friend to run for their order.

“No and stop acting like that, you're going to scare away customers.”

Yuna whined, her exaggerated tantrum leading you to wiggle your feet all the way to the cellar.

“I'm offering you the holy grail, and this is how you pay me?”

The sound of her feet shuffling behind you kept your head sane. Even though his insinuations were baseless, your heart was pounding so hard you felt your ribs throbbing through your muscles and skin.

Your boss had written to Yuna that you two could leave the store early today because she had a private meeting to attend. She asked them to leave everything to Patrick, including clearing the store of customers and not to worry about paying for the shift, because there would be no discount at the end of the month. Yuna was faithfully and blindly convinced that your boss really wanted you to stay, because she spent almost ten minutes with her eyes glued to the screen almost without blinking, watching the 'typing…' appear and disappear under your boss's contact name. 'I'm sure she's debating how much confidence she has in us…', she said as her red eyes missed no detail of that important chat and that primordial moment, ending in an offended 'none!' when her last message came through.

In the same way, Yuna convinced herself that the meeting that would take place in the same place where your feet were planted was going to be attended by the seven entertainment kings of the country. The unmentionables, for all practical purposes. Where had she come to that conclusion? There was no foundation. Had your boss given any hints? None. Yuna had her head in the clouds believing she could meet her idols if she insisted a little longer.

“Would you really prefer to stand your friend up to meet seven men you don't even know for sure will show up here?”

“Well…if you put it that way it sounds like I'm doing something wrong.”

“Mmm, you just figured that out?”

Yuna dropped her shoulders as you took off your apron. Her tactics weren't going to work and it was time to give up. She half-heartedly opened her locker and stood looking at you with puppy dog eyes. You felt as guilty as if you had stepped on her tail by accident.

“Look, if I'm being honest, I doubt gigantically that Sol will tell you that you can stay if you ask her.”

“Not even for everything we've been through together?”

“She's still our boss, Yuna.”

Your friend mimicked your actions with a slower speed, her emotion draining away little by little. When her head cocked to the side, halfway through taking off her apron, you only sighed.

“The worst that can happen is I get fired, right?”

You weren't surprised that she was nevertheless willing to cross that line.

“That doesn't sound like much to you?”

“I can always write her a 'ha, ha, just joking' afterwards and get out of harm's way.”

You didn't contain the irresistible urge to roll your eyes and Yuna took that as her own signal or green light. Next thing you knew she was pulling out her phone and typing animatedly on the screen.

“I really don't think you should do that.”

“I have to try! Can I call myself a good fan if I don't do even the impossible?”

“You don't even know if they'll come.”

“I have a hunch.”

With her hand over her heart, Yuna sent the message and you feared for her life. While Sol was not at all close to the idea and conceptualization of a crazy and ruthlessly demanding boss, she did draw the line at several specific situations that they had both learned to respect. One of those was, of course, private meetings at her place. You and Yuna had set up the place countless times for Sol to sit quietly and chat with her most famous acquaintances, because her office was too formal to deal with them there, but her own home was extremely informal for the same purpose. The cafeteria served as a middle ground, the perfect place to be comfortable when talking business.

“Patrick is coming.” Yuna spoke again and by the way her eyes didn't leave the screen you could tell Sol hadn't responded yet.

“I wish you the best of luck, Yuna.”

“Thank you! Coming from you it's a blessing, indeed.”

“And why's that?”

You finally stood up, closing your locker with your strap bag over your right shoulder. You were ready to leave while your friend was still biting her index fingernail waiting for an almost impossible and inconceivable message from her boss.

“What else can I expect from the writer who blew up overnight and is soon going to be one of the New York Times bestsellers and famous worldwide?”

“Ah,” you turned your head, unable to contain inwardly the way a warmth settled in your chest; you still had a hard time accepting how things had turned out, but as long as you couldn't control the influx of orders that had to take a back seat, “smooth.”

Yuna smiled and when her eyes met yours you swore she was about to tell you one more time how proud she was of you, but her phone vibrated in her hands and the last thing you saw her eyes widen exaggeratedly before her scream shook the foundations of the store and almost the entire city.

“SHE SAID YES!!!!”

-

Arriving home unleashed immeasurable chaos.

As soon as you opened the front door, a river of books fell like dominoes, with your father's groans and your mother's screams in the background, the sound of your work echoing in your head like lightning as stomping echoed through the house.

“Seojun, I told you to be careful walking…!”The angry expression on your mother's face disappeared the moment she recognized your face, her features softening as she knew it was her daughter. “Honey. What are you doing here so early?”

“Is that y/n?” your dad's exclamation rang out from the kitchen.

“Yes!” your mom yelled back.

The welcome was nice, but things only got more and more tedious from then on. On the one hand, you had your father telling you about accounts, numbers and multiplications of how much you had to take out of your pocket to pay for the prints, how much you would make if you sold all the books you had printed and how much you would get back, and on the other hand you had your mother telling you about the countless publishers who had written to your dm's seeking to sponsor the sale of your books, taking advantage of the boom that had been generated by the phenomenon that was Kim Taehyung.

Seojun, who had decided to move back home for the weekend to help with whatever was needed, was telling you that they had had to hire five different deliverymen -three of them trucks- to be able to deliver as many orders a day as possible, while vehemently hitting your father's forearm to remind him to include that in the accounts.

Your father was in charge of everything related to money, your mother of the direct communication with customers and Seojun of the orders; everything was done by them, with Yuna's help when she was not working, with the excuse that after so many years you just had to sit down and enjoy the fruit of your sowing without any worries.

But at that moment, when they had just let go and thrown all their worries at your feet, they stared at you expectantly.

"We need a loan."

Your mother jumped in her chair. "That's what I said!"

"That's not necessary." Your father shook his head, as he surely would have done when your mother suggested the idea judging by the expression that had planted itself on her face. "Take a loan from my wallet, but don't do business with those bankers. They'll gouge your eyes out with interest."

"Or take a publisher's offer. They'll take care of all this." Seojun pointed out, his long black hair brushing his eyebrows even though he shook it nonchalantly so he could get a good look at the three of them.

"Publishers can be freeloaders too." Your mother counter-argued, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, yeah? How many publishers have you signed on with to assert that?"

"Wow, careful with that tone, Mr. Lawyer." Your father pointed at your brother, while your mother only raised an eyebrow at him in response. Seojun sank into the chair, barely dragging an apology through his teeth.

"It's not a bad idea either, Dad."

His brown eyes returned to meet your gaze and you noticed the hesitation in them.

"Well, ultimately, it's your decision, honey."

Your mother squeezed your shoulder.

"I say we should listen to the lawyer."

"Hey!" Seojun frowned, straightening up on the chair. "Don't put such a big responsibility on me!"

Your father snorted. "But then weren't you comfortable a while ago giving orders and saying that I don't know what thing you had already seen it in class and that's why you knew what we had to do?"

"Dad…" Seojun elongated.

"Are you ready for such a position or not, Seojun? Tell me to start looking for another lawyer."

Your mother barely contained her laughter, only because of the offended sideways glance her own son sent her way. Laughter blossomed in your chest, too, like a big breath of fresh air in a field of flowers. You didn't know you needed that moment so badly until the tension disappeared from your shoulders as you laughed with your parents and your brother grumbled with his arms crossed.

-

A new batch of orders just went out - thank you so much for your purchases!

You looked at the story your mom had uploaded to Instagram in the solitude of your bedroom. The rest of the day was spent strategizing and planning marketing ideas that would likely lead you to ruin. In a defeated silence, you admitted that Yuna was really needed.

You had texted your friend a while ago, as the sunset was beginning to paint the sky with colors, but she still hadn't even checked her phone. Her last connection was a few minutes after you left at noon. You decided not to insist, even though you were a little curious about who had finally shown up at the store.

The best thing about that busy rest of the afternoon was that you'd been able to keep yourself busy enough to completely ignore the way you'd been whipped up by a few memories that morning in Yuna's company. A simple question had caused all that. And of course, with a heart as weak as a chick's and willpower almost non-existent, you let yourself be pulled right in that moment of loneliness into the well of memories.

“Jungkookie?”

Your voice pierced the silence and a shiver ran through your body as the darkness greeted you back. A few minutes passed after you plunged into the completely darkened room, walking tentatively and slowly inside, you heard a movement just outside the door you had just entered.

“Noona…”

You couldn't see him, but you didn't need to. The sobs that filled the room were enough to be able to guide you through that darkness, as indistinguishable as coal, and wrap your arms around his hunched figure on the floor beside the door.

The house was alone and as dark as that room the last night Jungkook would be there. Passing through the empty corridors of his house was a torment, but you could only imagine how your friend would feel in his place, unable to stop time as it slipped through his fingers.

Several times he had already told you that he didn't want to leave. You didn't think he meant it.

“They're waiting for you downstairs.”

“I know. I don't want to go, noona.” Jungkook moved his arms to wrap around your waist in a desperate grip, his erratic breathing against your neck breaking your heart. “I want to stay. It doesn't matter if I never become an idol. That's not important.”

“Jungkook…”

“I don't want to leave you…”

His halting voice was barely understandable, trying to be muffled by the jacket you were wearing that night when you went to see him off and didn't find him in the car with his parents. The heater seemed not to be a worthy opponent for that cold night.

“Jungkook, you're not going to leave me. We'll keep in touch. Why do you worry so much?”

“I don't want to be like them,” his pained voice pierced your chest; the movement of his body from the way the sobs were attacking him was almost uncontainable. “I don't want this distance.”

“Change is always hard, Jungkookie, but I promise you we'll be in touch always. I'll do my best to make it so.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I'll even come visit you as soon as I can.”

“No. I said I was going to pay for your trip.”

“See? You're not going to leave me.”

“Still I'm scared, noona. What if I'm not enough for them? What if I can't raise enough for you to come live with us?”

“You are enough, Jungkook. From the tips of your fingers to the tips of your hair, there's nothing about you that won't allow you to achieve your dreams, understand? You are destined to be a star. I know it's hard to leave behind everything you know in life, but believe me it will all be worth it. You will come out on top and you will succeed.”

“Noona…” Jungkook cried again, burying his face in your neck once more, clinging to you like the anchor that carried him to the surface of the ocean; the ocean shaped by his own tears. “I… don't… want… to… go…”

The hiccups that attacked him from his intense crying made it difficult for him to speak and you hadn't felt such pain even when the other boys left. There were tears shared, promises whispered and hugs that lasted longer than they should have, but no one had clung to your body as if they feared you were going to disappear at any moment and wanted to seize every second before the impending end.

“It's okay, Jungkookie,” you ran your hands up and down his back trying to calm his crying, trying to control your own as treacherous tears rolled down your cheeks with the darkness as your witness. “We'll meet again. You can wait for me. Then we can melt into another embrace and say how much we miss each other.”

Your phone vibrated on the bed, the notification startling you with its aggressiveness. Another vibration followed that one and then another. Turning on the screen, you found that half an hour had passed since you'd last seen the clock, and in passing you came across Yuna's name on the caller ID. You sighed, remembering the effusiveness with which she said goodbye in the afternoon and mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

"Hey," you greeted, mildly surprised that her exclamations hadn't reached your ear first to interrupt your greeting.

"y/n, how were sales today?" her calm voice filled your hearing and a slight wrinkle implanted itself between your brows.

"Mmm, it was all good. We have several domiciliary and the prints are coming out with the deadlines arranged. With Seojun we considered that maybe taking on a publisher wouldn't be so bad, but I'm not sure yet."

You narrowed your eyes at the ceiling, shallowly biting your nails, waiting for the moment when Yuna would burst out, but it didn't come.

"Oh, yeah. We'll have to consider that. I'll go early tomorrow morning to seize the day." Yuna answered quietly, with the faint sound of things stirring in the background of the call. Surely she had just arrived at her apartment.

"Yuna?"

"Mhm?"

"How was the afternoon?"

"Oh, it was normal, really," she replied, her voice flat, as if the thought had barely crossed her mind since the moment she'd left the coffee shop. "I didn't see anyone memorable."

"Ah, so your knights in shining armor didn't attend?"

"Sadly, no." Yuna sighed, her unchanging attitude finding a little more sense in your head. She sounded more tired than anything.

You talked a bit more with Yuna before she excused herself to go about her evening routine and finally get some rest, specifically stressing to you how boring the whole afternoon had been and how every second she only thought about going home. You also told her a bit more about the ideas you and your father had half-heartedly spun as marketing strategies, but very earnestly your friend asked you not to do anything until she was there.

When her name disappeared from your caller ID, an Instagram notification popped up at the top of your home screen. The vibration felt like the pounding of a sledgehammer against wood, your sentence handed down with no chance of appeal, the blood in your veins freezing and an endless emptiness in the pit of your stomach.

jeonjungkook97 just followed you!

It was followed by the notification of a message from Yuna.

Unnie | 19:01 holy shit. jungkook just followed you on ig, right?

No fucking way. Another fucking account to block.

-

It wasn't like you couldn't deal with them. You had been doing it for about ten years. But now they just seemed to want to throw themselves in front of your face one by one and you weren't strong enough to handle that. Maybe your resolve needed to be more forceful; maybe you should be sure you hated them instead of feeling like your body was shaking and you could melt like jelly in the sun every time you felt they were one step closer to you. For a while, that was all you wanted; to find them; to be found. But now…?

The weekend was spent in a hodgepodge of managing your book sales and the seesaw of emotions you had in the face of the estranged but impactful actions of your old friends. You tried not to think about it too much; you really tried, but it was very difficult. It was easier to let the memories wash over you instead of diligently packing up the books on which you had squandered your blood and tears.

Your books, yes, that was the most important thing.

From the posts and hashtags, even though it had only been a couple of days, you could see that some people -those who had actually read the books- were already posting their opinions and reviews and you knew you had had plenty of time to prepare for that moment, but you really weren't ready to face it. You didn't know what it was; whether it was the pollen, the aligned planets, PMS, mercury retrograde… but all of those things were weighing you down too much recently and you weren't ready to hear the opinions.

And you couldn't help but keep asking yourself why? Having spent so much time, between so many experiences and so many personal changes, why now they decided that they would come back into your life? How dare they after ruining your life by completely abandoning you? Many times you wondered what was missing in you; what was never enough for them… sometimes you believed that this was how it was meant to be; just the seven of them, before you came along. It was always them seven first, then you.

Between lows and highs, between sadness and joy, you still had to keep working.

"Get rid of that face if you're not going to tell me what's wrong with you." Yuna crossed the cafeteria in front of you, picking up some glasses and plates on the table as lunchtime approached.

"I don't have any face."

"You've been in a somber mood since Saturday. You look dead."

You clicked your tongue, taking advantage of the fact that the store was nearly empty to do the math. "Don't be over the top."

"I'm just being honest and genuinely concerned about my friend, can you blame me?" Yuna reached the sink and simply left the dishes there to approach the cash register. Your eyes refused to meet hers, unsheathing a strange annoyance in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm fine," you moved the money automatically, doing the math in the back of your head as second nature, "don't worry so much."

"Ok, if you don't want to tell me about it at least try to distract yourself a little, why don't you take an extra half hour for lunch?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Sol would never know."

"I'm not going to do that."

Yuna pouted, dropping her chin onto the back of her hand. You knew she was about to fly you out of that chair the moment all the bills were safeguarded.

A whiplash of pain shot through your chest at the alternative of having to leave the cafeteria, alone, hovering with your thoughts once again, as you tried to shove the food down your throat. But Yuna happily dragged you out of the cafeteria, leaving you in the middle of the street with your little bag and lunch money, wishing you a happy break as she wandered off once more to deal with the sparse crowd of customers alone.

Maybe you should have told her you'd rather not eat than be alone, but…

That was the story of your life.

So you walked to that restaurant a couple of blocks away, where they sold the cheapest food in the area, and waited patiently while answering Yuna's messages to clear your mind.

Going through your social networks, you once again came across the cover of your books in the pre-viewing of a video and felt the bile in your throat. Let's see, you were happy. Or well, you were trying to convince yourself because you still had that bitter feeling in the pit of your stomach that wouldn't let you enjoy this blast like you should and it had a first and last name of its own. But, generally speaking, it was great that your books were selling, forgetting all the other circumstances that led to that happening.

So, standing in front of those videos, you were tormented by not being able to watch them. A self-published author should be prepared for that kind of thing. No, any author should be. Sharing your art with the world implicitly entailed confronting the world's expression in front of it. It was inevitable, of course, and it was also the energy that could start an engine or the fingers that put out the match. At that precise moment, you still didn't want to know what your destiny was.

You hated that. You hated feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. Why was life so heavy if you had just begun to live it?

Ah, too much pondering for one lunch.

And to think this all started with an Instagram story.

Having an existential crisis because you couldn't stand dealing with the stress and pressure of the extreme demand you were having and because of mixed feelings for a bunch of idiots resurfacing after so many years was one of the last things you thought you'd have to go through that year. Fuck, or ever in your entire life.

Taehyung might have done you a favor as well as a disservice.

But that's how you spent a while longer, as you walked back to the coffee shop, the noise of the city not being enough to quell the bustle of thoughts crashing against each other in your head.

Being in the eye of the hurricane, however, didn't mean you were safe. You barely had a breath of fresh air before the eyewall hit you hard once again.

"Noona…?"

You froze a few steps away from the cafeteria. You feared not only the way you immediately recognized the voice, but the way your body froze, fear, panic and uncertainty clouding your sense.

You were in the alley behind the coffee shop. You didn't usually go in that way, but you had taken a slightly longer way back, only because you were too busy thinking about whether or not your body was up to a longer walk.

You were so close to the door that you could almost hear Yuna's voice on the other side, barely muffled by the beeping that echoed in your ears as panic took over your body.

You didn't want to turn around. Your body was having every possible negative reaction, as if it was fighting an infection, the lunch you had just shoved down your throat seeking to make its way back into your mouth and the feeling of dizziness momentarily clouded you.

Was this how you planned to react if you ever saw them again? Was this how you acted out the scenarios you imagined in your head at night when your memories went back to the last time you saw them?

The only difference between those imaginings and what was happening at that moment was that before you could prepare yourself; you knew what was coming; you had control. Now? Your legs were about to give out, the weight of your body too much to bear.

And you wanted to mock the pathetic behavior you were engaging in. You should turn around, slap him and scream at him that you never wanted to see him again. But your heart was beating and feeling and… how could you deny it anything after so many years of being neglected?

But maybe you were imagining it. The little sleep you had this weekend and all the memories you dragged from the trunk since you saw that Instagram notification must have made you crazy enough that you heard voices, his voice, anywhere… you were still near a busy street, it could be anyone-

"y/n."

And, yet…

You didn't turn around knowing what it would entail to give his voice a face, even though you could madly and frankly recall every line of its length, and you spoke harshly through your teeth even though your labored breathing made your chest heave.

"What are you doing here?"

"Noona… you're really here."

You cringed as you heard his footsteps and clutched with inhuman speed at the lock on the door in front of you.

"I asked you a fucking question: what the fuck do you think you're doing here?"

The silence didn't give you an answer, but you could glimpse it. With your patience on edge and years of emotional repression it was impossible for you to deduce how you would react in such a case, but it didn't seem too far-fetched, even if Jungkook's surprised inspiration said he didn't expect you to be so harsh and rude.

As if you cared.

—Yes you did care, in fact, that's why your heart was beating wildly against your ribs, the choking sensation increasing, the nerves on edge and the tears all over the corners of your eyes, but you had to stand your ground. After so, so long… why, why, why, why?—

"I… I…" Jungkook seemed to be having trouble finding his voice, even though in his profession the words came melodiously and easily out of his mouth. If you turned to look at him, you might have noticed that his face went from happiness to anguish with the speed a bullet goes through a field, "I wanted to see you…"

He sounded so small. The five-foot-ten-plus man, who you're sure was almost a head and a half taller than you, might as well have been a badly wounded puppy behind you. You knew from the way he spoke that he was holding back tears, but you didn't let that sway you. He didn't deserve it.

"Who gave you the right to come here?"

You didn't let him answer, not knowing if he was even going to, tightening the lock on the door you were about to walk through at any moment, bile in your throat making you fear the fall as if you were at the top of a skyscraper.

"How the fuck did you even find me?"

"Well, I-"

"I don't fucking want to know!"

You cut him off, the dryness and venom in your voice making you tremble. You were so sad, so distraught and so angry at the same time.

"And I don't want to see you. So leave."

"Noona…"

"Fucking leave, Jeon, for fuck's sake!"

You moved, almost as if by inertia, opening the door and slamming it behind you, the noise so deafening that it echoed in your ears for several seconds until you heard Yuna's footsteps approaching you and felt her arms wrap around your body.

You didn't know what she was saying, you just leaned against the door and let yourself fall, your body shaking in cry after uncontrollable cry, truly wondering how everything had gone so far; wondering how, after so many years, you still allowed them to have that power over you; a power they didn't deserve and shouldn't have.

You felt shattered in that moment, every piece of you scattered in the hold, every moment of your life replaying on its glassy, sharp edges. Even with half of you staying afloat, Yuna held you until the tears stopped flowing and with renewed resolve you promised yourself that this was never going to happen again.

Jungkook had taken you by surprise, but from now on none of them would ever catch you off guard.

-

a/n: i dont really know what to think about this chap. sometimes i like it sometimes i dont. i guess thats just how it works. pls letme know what you think! thank u for all the support! <3

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592 @yoongznme @queenbloody @leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison

[ace-turned-confused]

planted in your garden | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: joel has always shown his love for you through flowers, and now it's your turn to do the same word count: 1k warnings: 18+ only, reader has tattoos & is shorter than joel, joel being soft & lovey-dovey & just the best in general, bit of spiciness at the end a/n: written for @morallyinept's Fauna & Flora Challenge ❤️ not beta’d or any of that jazz, please enjoy :)

If there’s one thing you know about Joel Miller, it’s that he will always find a reason to buy you flowers, no need for a special occasion. It’s been a long hard week and I wanted to get you something, saw these pretty flowers and thought of my pretty girl, got them just because I love you. Whether it’s an entire bouquet or just a few wild stems tied together by a ribbon, you’re sure he’s given you more flowers than you’ve received in your entire life.

It started on your birthday — you told him you hadn’t planned anything because you didn’t want a big fuss and it wasn’t a number worth celebrating, and he insisted on bringing you dinner so you wouldn’t have to spend the evening on your own. Every number is worth celebrating, it means you’ve been around another whole year. You were floored when he showed up on your doorstep, pizza boxes in one hand and a bunch of red and pink tulips in the other.

“Saw the ink on your arm there and just assumed they were your favourite. None of the stores ever have anything fresh or pretty enough, so I just cut these from my back garden.”

Joel Miller. Cut red and pink tulips for you. From his own garden.

You’d only known each other a few weeks at that stage, and he’d been more observant in that short time than any other man you’d met. At first, you didn’t read into it too much, he’s just doing something nice for you. You told yourself it didn’t matter that this ‘something nice’ was the single nicest thing anyone ever did for you.

You ate your takeout pizzas and talked for hours that night, record player on in the background, sharing stories of years gone by and remembering the person you each used to be. A few stray tears even slipped down your cheek at one point — Joel moved to sit close next to and almost on instinct you rested your head on his shoulder. It was oddly comforting knowing just how vulnerable you could be around him. He was a kind soul, a rather rare find in today’s world, and you found it surprisingly easy to open up to him.

You asked him for a hug that night and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you firmly against him, his chin resting on the top of your head and it was the safest you felt in years. Of course, and next time you don’t have to ask. You smiled into him, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. He eventually pulled back to check on you and planted a hand on your waist; he bid you goodnight with a wink, called you sweetheart and went home, leaving you standing like an idiot, mouth hanging open in a daze and still feeling the heat that had radiated off his palm and the grip of his fingers through your shirt on your skin.

‘Sweetheart’ played in your mind over and over for hours, days, weeks after that — soon enough you acknowledged that you weren’t immune to his charms and you’ve never looked back.

The flowers aren’t only for you to enjoy — you noticed early on that Joel takes great pride in his garden. The lawn always mowed, flower beds always with manicured edges, bees and butterflies in abundance. You’ve spent many hours lounging in the sun just admiring him, your book long abandoned — temples and greying curls damp with sweat, t-shirt clinging to his arms and back, gym shorts showing him off deliciously, all while he potters around tending to his garden, refilling a bird bath, touching up the fence and spewing out endless plant facts.

He even expanded the bed of tulips, planting bulbs of different varieties and an array of colours — ones with frilly edges, ones with pointed petals, and even blooms that look almost hand-painted in their beauty. He told you he’d been planning this for months, long before he met you, but you knew that part of him was doing this for you, too.

Late one night he finally told you the red and pink of your birthday flowers represented eternal love and affection, and sheepishly admitted he only remembered that once he’d already knocked on your door. He had hoped you wouldn’t ask him the meanings that night and figured there must’ve been someone looking out for him when you simply accepted them with a dazzling smile and that twinkle in your eyes. He wonders how things might have played out differently if you had asked him that night.

Now it’s Joel’s birthday and you want to do something special for him — so here you are, lying underneath him in a matching set, simple and white and covered in daisies. Propped up by his elbows, he traces over a flower right in the centre of your bra.

“You gonna tell me anything about them?”

“Daisies supposedly represent innocence and purity…” His voice fades off as he trails his fingers featherlight across you, goosebumps rising in his wake. With a faint smile pulling at his lips, he lifts his gaze to look you in the eye. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

He leans to kiss you, tongue licking into your mouth and you feel him pressed against your core, thick and heavy. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him and he grinds his hips into you, your fingers raking through his hair and tugging ever so slightly. He pulls back and starts snaking a hand down between you, now taken by the same applique daisies on your panties.

“Not sure those words apply right now, though,” he whispers to you, knuckles grazing the fabric.

“What, ‘innocence and purity’? You don’t think that’s true about daisies?”

“I ain’t talkin’ bout the daisies, sweetheart.” He smirks at you and you simply grin at him and huff a laugh in response as he shuffles down your body to pull your panties down your legs.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[call-me-copycat]

Hey! Idk if you still write fics but if you do. Could you please write about Aizawa having a daughter who selfharms, but he didnt knew until one day he entered to her room and find her doing it?.

Its kind of an emergency so i would really apreciate if you wrote it 🩷

Hi! I'm really sorry for the slight delay, I've been bouncing between school during the day and work at night, so even though I saw your ask I couldn't physically write it due to exhaustion (⑉ ᷄ ⌳ ᷅ )ก

That being said, even though it's been a couple days I didn't want to leave you hanging! I got some rest and wrote as much as I could in one sitting!

I really do hope this helps, feel free to message me anytime if you need to vent or such ₍ᐢ‥ᐢ₎ ♡

What I Owe To You

*I listened to this on loop while writing*

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules (Requests are open + Some info about me)

▶ Characters: Just Aizawa and Reader

▶ Genre: Comfort + Slight Angst

▶ Summary: As the ask states

▶ Word Count: 2925

▶ WARNINGS:

- Self harm

- Depressive thoughts

- Overall lots of angst

Please don't read if any of this makes you uncomfortable!

The cycle always went on.

At this point you were afraid of what was to happen next. At the same time, the thought was pushed away by the constant emptiness that filled you through. The sticky tar-like hands of this unknown void ravaged your mind, shredding it apart piece by piece.

Leaving you constantly feeling... Hollow. It was difficult to describe it as anything else.

You walked to school everyday and went to your classes. You sat next to your classmates as they animatedly discussed the usual topics of training and what to do after school.

On the weekends, you slept. Sometimes went shopping with your father. Maybe you'd get visited by your Uncle Mic, other times you'd train.

There wasn't much variety. It was suffocating. These feelings had no place to spawn from, as your life wasn't much different from everyone else's. There didn't seem to be a reason, for all you knew. But it was there, no doubt about it. It made itself known.

-

It was a usual Friday night. You had completed all your classes and had the weekend to yourself. It felt pointless, there wasn't much to do. Nor did you have the energy for anything either.

Sitting in your room, you jumped a bit at the unexpected knock on your door. You had been gazing out of your bedroom window for who knew how long, zoning out as far from your mind as you could. You vaguely remembered that a storm was to come soon.

"Dinnertime. Wash up and come to the table when you're ready."

Your father's voice never failed to comfort you, and in a way he was one of the main beacons of light in your dark and foggy world. An unchanging pillar of strength, he held on tight to your cracking mind.

Slowly, tiredly, you made your way out of your room. As you passed by Aizawa, he couldn't help but sigh in response to your barely-there smile at him. You had a habit of doing that, possibly to keep him from worrying.

Truth be told, Aizawa always worried about you. Ever since you were young, he was on guard every second, trying to keep you from falling and scraping your knees, to keeping an eye on you during training.

Though recently, he had noticed some... changes. Your eyes began to grow dull, and their usual energy faded with each passing day. The bags under them grew more prominent, and in turn your hair began to be left more of a mess. Slowly, little things were building up, and he couldn't tell why.

It worried him sick, since the only thing he had in mind for you was for you to be happy and safe. Seeing your condition worsen with each day made him nauseous, as it was the last place he wanted you to be at. He wanted to help you, the best he could.

So that's why before you even sat down to eat, he began to question you.

"Are you feeling okay, [Name?]"

Truth be told, he knew you'd say you were fine. He just needed to soothe his frantic mind.

Looking up at him, you gave him another smile. He couldn't help but grimace at how forced it looked.

"Oh, of course I'm fine." You clenched your jaw at how unenthusiastic you sounded, but it would have to do.

Aizawa only felt uneasy. Too many things added up and gave him a weird taste in his mouth to leave it at that.

"Look at me, [Name]."

The unusual tone of his voice brought you out of your foggy state of mind as you looked up at him fully. Once you met his eyes properly, Aizawa took notice of the... Saddened expression that filled yours. He knew someone was wrong, but it was being covered.

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

He needed to know if you trusted him. He needed to be the one person you trusted in life. This was all or nothing.

Your eyes went wide for a split second as your breath hitched, but you quickly shook it off. His bluntness was what caught you off guard.

"Really, it's nothing Papa." You tried smiling once more, raising a hand out a bit in an attempt to calm him. You knew it was a pitiful attempt, but you didn't have the energy to make it convincing. Alongside that, Aizawa was generally a very tough man to fool. It'd take a lot to actually pass anything through him.

Aizawa's eyes narrowed in response as he saw your reaction to his question. Your body language indicated how uncomfortable you were, and he didn't want to push you too far past your limits.

It was tough, but he decided to give it up in the end and hope you'd come to him whenever you were ready. You always shared everything with him since you were young, and he had gained a large amount of trust over you in turn.

-

Dinner was eaten in silence, and as soon as it was over you bid your father a goodnight before heading off to your room.

Aizawa stayed seated at the kitchen table as he watched you walk off, wondering what was happening to his child. He couldn't bear the thought of you struggling with something alone. He had been there your whole life to help you get through everything you passed by, so why weren't you letting him in now?

After much deliberation, he got up from his spot at the table and made his way to your room. He needed to finish this conversation, and he needed to know what was going on. His mind had been sprawled all over the place for the last few months, as he'd been observant enough to catch on to the smallest changes you went through. Seeing you go into such a decline was like a punch straight through to his heart.

His mind was in such a haze that he threw open your door without second thought, seeing as he normally takes care to knock first. The room was pitch black, but based off of the startled gasp that came from you and the clanging of metal hitting the ground, Aizawa felt his blood freeze in fear.

Quickly flipping on the light, his eyes widened at the site that laid in front of him. You didn't have any time to cover yourself, so Aizawa saw it all.

The bandages laid out.

The blades.

And most importantly, your cuts.

You felt your eyes water at the expression on your father's face, guilt and self-loathing bleeding into your mind.

Aizawa was stuck in shock for a moment. It felt as though all time was warped as he saw what was his worst nightmare laid out in front of him. He was quickly snapped back to reality at the sound of your sobs that echoed throughout the room.

He swiftly made his way towards you from across your room, and in one smooth movement he pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly to himself.

He had known something was wrong, felt it deep in his heart, but he didn't realize how serious it truly was. His heart ached for you as his grip only grew tighter around you. Aizawa didn't want you to hide these things from him, and in a way, he felt disappointed at your lack of trust towards him. All his disappointment and anger quickly dissipated, leaving him to face his worry and guilt.

"[Name]..."

He could hear his voice tremble, but couldn't care less.

"Why? I-" He was stuck in shock. It was something he never thought he'd run into. Looking down at you, his worry for your well-being grew tenfold, but he gathered the willpower to overcome the sudden surge of emotions he was feeling.

"I want... I need you to promise me you'll never harm yourself again," He looked down at you, cradled in his arms, "I don't think I could ever bear the pain of losing you..."

He knew this was only one step of many. That it doesn't start like this. That it grows. Although he couldn't pinpoint what might've started it, he at least needed to confirm you'd be safe. He just needed this one thing to give his already worn heart a little bit of ease.

You couldn't help but recoil a bit, bringing your arms to hug your torso. As much as you wanted it to be that easy, as much as you wanted to tell your father 'okay!', you knew it wouldn't be done so fast. And in a way, that only worsened your resentment towards yourself.

"I... don't know if I can.." You avoided his gaze as you faced the ground, hating how saddened he was and much rather preferring him to be angry. It'd lessen the guilt a little bit, at least.

He needed something.

"[Name]... I can't make you promise me you'll be able to stop right away. That's foolish to believe." Heaving out a sigh, he put a hand atop your head. "But I just need you to know that I'd be devastated without you. I can truly say from the bottom of my heart, I'd never be able to live a normal life again if you were gone."

Looking up into his eyes, you saw a heaviness that swirled in them. This was coming from a man who had seen it all - numerous deaths in ways he wished he could unsee.

You hadn't realized just how much you meant to him. It never popped up in your head. The all-consuming void had blocked any sensibility or logic from getting to you, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized just how much it would affect your father. He always told you your pain was his to deal with too.

Settling your face in the crook of his neck so you wouldn't have to see the hurt in his eyes anymore, you tried your best to explain everything to him.

"It feels..." Closing your eyes, you tried imagining everything that has built up. "Like I'm running a race, yet getting nowhere. That everything I do has no effect... I'm tired."

You stayed silent as you felt your father put a hand on the back of your head. Aizawa watched as you carefully pieced your words together, and saw the true effect of everything you had been dealing with. His heart ached to relieve you of your pain, his fatherly instincts screaming at him to help save his child.

"[Name]." His grip on you tightened ever so slightly. "I want you to get this through your head, alright? You are not a failure. You're going through a lot, and it's weighing down on you. And I understand you're under a lot of pressure, but-"

Aizawa was cut off when he began to choke up, the thoughts too much for him to bear. As much as he tried to keep his composure for your sake, his walls were beginning to crack.

You heard your father pause and looked up at him, only to be brought into shock at the sight of your normally stoic father tearing up. You felt ashamed for forgetting about his pain, tearing up once more at the guilt that ravaged your mind.

He could see how surprised you were, but he couldn't help it. He always struggled to contain himself when it came to you, especially whenever you were hurt. He hated seeing you in pain.

"Do you have any idea what it would do to me if I lost you? I- ... [Name], if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do anymore, I'd-"

He truly couldn't help it. All that Aizawa wanted was for you to be happy. Seeing you in so much agony... seeing your only escape being to harm yourself... He felt that he lost a part of himself.

You cried out loud this time, seeing your father so torn over you. It was heartbreaking, but oddly soothing at the same time. To have someone to deeply care about you that they felt intertwined with you. He cared.

You could feel his arms engulfing you, and you allowed yourself to be swallowed in his hold. It was warm and soothing... A stark contrast to the cold you constantly couldn't escape from.

As he held you, Aizawa couldn't help but be more shocked at himself than anyone. He normally was able to easily retain his composure, so as he felt tears flowing down his face he couldn't help but stiffen. Quickly getting over it, he held you close. The room gradually began to get quieter, the both of your emotions slowing down.

You couldn't help but feel... Secure. It was a stark contrast to the constant void you felt. You felt... Warm.

Yeah, warm.

It was a nice feeling.

Closing your eyes, you finally allowed your body to relax. Aizawa rubbed your back as he gently rocked back and forth.

"I just want you to breath. Don't think about anything else."

Following his word, you kept your eyes closed and settled your breathing. You quickly noticed how much easier it was to think this way. Nothing else was getting in the way, no unwanted thoughts or fears, and you felt safe. Safe and comfortable.

The world around you normally was so chaotic. It seemed everyone was in a rush, always somewhere to be. You couldn't have time to yourself either, constantly getting pushed to and fro. There never seemed to be a place to stop. Nowhere to rest. An unchanging race.

But here you were. The world has stopped, giving you a break you so badly needed. You couldn't describe it, but such a simple hug from your father seemed to dull everything that pained you.

"I understand what it's like."

Aizawa would be lying if he said he was never in your place before. Too many nights he was kept up, worrying about working on himself. Scared of the changing future. Feeling like nothing was changing for him while the world moved on. It was isolating.

Over the years, he got better. The world's rush blurred to background noise, and he learned to appreciate his own speed in life. It was his own life he was living, after all.

Looking down at you, he saw a mirror image of himself.

"Y'know, it's not fair..." You looked up at him as he brushed away a lone tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You allow me to laugh with you in your happiest moments... So why do you lock me out when you're at your lowest?"

You had never heard it phrased like that before. You did enjoy having him around whenever you had something good to share. Whenever you were proud, or amazed, or just plain happy. But you understood, he wanted to be a part of it all. Every smile... And every tear.

Your voice couldn't find you, but Aizawa didn't mind. To you, he was always a hand outstretched. A guide to help you through the fog and the dark. It made the terrifying a little less daunting.

"Please talk to me when you can. Tell me whatever you'd like, I just want to know how you're feeling."

You nodded, looking at him directly. Your heart rate had gone down significantly, and you didn't know how much time had passed. If you listened carefully, you could hear the distance rumble of an oncoming storm, thunder booming on the horizon.

There was a pregnant pause before he started once more.

"Tomorrow, we'll need to get your injuries looked over-"

Seeing a look of fear cross your expression, he was quick to calm you.

"I'll be with you. The entire time. You won't have to deal with living life alone. I understand it's frightening to look at, but let me hold some of the weight you own."

You watched as Aizawa stretched out his hand, offering it to you. Looking at it, you thought back to all the times he'd helped you in the past. Every time he's offered his hand out to you.

All the times you were too scared to cross the road when you were little. Every time you felt too suffocated by the number of people surrounding you. Or even when it was just the two of you, silently walking home together in the warm afternoon sun.

He always offered you support, for every little thing life had to throw at you. Aizawa's expression softened when you gently put your hand in his, no hesitation in your movements.

Clasping his fingers over yours, you saw how your hands intertwined. And you realized, he was always there to take some of the pain from you - acting like he was a part of you.

"You get it now, huh?" Looking up into his eyes one more time, you thought you saw a sparkle in them. "Whenever you bring pain to yourself," He squeezed your hand a little tighter, "you're hurting me right alongside with you. I need you in one piece, kid."

You breathed out, everything a little clearer now. There was so much more to do. So much to go through. It was a formidable thought.

But as you looked up into your father's eyes and as you felt his hand in yours, you realized;

You weren't alone.

You really did owe him the world.

During my lowest moments, Aizawa was always a huge character I relied on to get me through it. I will always write comfort for him to anyone who asks.

I hope you have a lovely day, and I hope things get just a little easier for you, you definitely deserve it (*´艸`)ﾌﾌﾌｯ♡

➜ Please let me know if I missed any warnings/triggers in the tags or in the opening!

[vikkirosko]

ah uh i don't really send writing requests, but i think your writing is pretty nice and i like it so could i make a request for the The V's (separately) with a exterminator reader? im sorry if its vague or far-fetched, i don't do requests often !! ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡

Headcanons Exterminator

💞 Valentino x Reader 🚬

Valentino often visited a variety of places and probably would have had a lot of problems if it wasn't for you. You accompanied Valentino and were often the one who solved conflicts. However, only Valentino knew your secret. You were an exterminator who decided to escape from Heaven and start a new life in Hell. You were great at it. You had a job and a man who, although far from perfect, was your man

Valentino liked it when you spent time together, and especially when you didn't hide your wings. He liked the fact that you listened to him and didn't pretend to listen, as Vox sometimes did. You gave Valentino a lot of your attention and he didn't bother to show you his feelings even if you weren't alone. Your relationship was not a secret and no one dared to say anything against it

Valentino knew that you could stand up for yourself, but still, every time someone insulted you, he got angry and was ready to start a fight. When someone threatened him, you became the one who solved the problem. It was enough for you to whisper a few frightening words to make the enemy afraid, and a frightening smile appeared on your lips

You and Valentino together were a frightening couple who could shake the peace in Hell. You were a fighter with a lot of experience and Valentino, being an overlord, had power. However, he was in no hurry to change anything. He was satisfied with what your life was like now, and if he was satisfied with everything, then so were you

❤ Velvette x Reader 🤍

You and Velvette met a few years after Alastor disappeared. During one of the days of extermination, she was attacked by several angels, but something happened that she did not expect. One of the exterminator attacked the others and killed them. You took off your mask, looking at her with a grin. However, you didn't attack her. When she asked what you needed, you told her you had a deal for her. You didn't want to go back to Heaven, and if she helps you start a life in Hell, then you will be her protector and help her

You and Velvette have made a deal. She even hid from Valentino and Vox who you were. To them, you were just a sinner who for some reason took a fancy to Velvette and now you often accompanied her. Velvette liked the way you looked and sometimes you tried on the outfits she created. She claimed that it was part of your deal, but in fact she just liked to see how the outfits she created matched your appearance

It was no secret that you and Velvette had a special relationship. She took a huge number of photos of you together and posted them online. You didn't mind it, watching with a grin the pleased expression on her face, realizing that your joint photos gave the effect she was waiting for. You liked the way you looked together and you didn't mind that you continued to be together

There was no way back to Heaven for you, but you didn't want to go back either. You liked how your life in Hell became and with the appearance of Velvette in your life. Even if your former colleagues find out about it and you become a traitor to them. You didn't care if they tried to kill you. You were willing to take the risk to stay together with Velvette

🖥 Vox x Reader 📱

Vox watched Pentagram City with cameras and drones. He had to know everything in advance to keep the situation in his hands. It was thanks to one of his drones that he saw you during the extermination day. He saw you take off your helmet and soon disappeared into the alley. It was the first time Vox saw exterminator's face, but he remembered that face, and immediately recognized it when he saw you on one of the streets of the city. He understood that either you were a deserter or a spy, and he was going to use the knowledge of your secret

Vox instructed to find you and soon you were in his office. You pretended to be a sinner and your face remained the same indifferent when he said that he knew your secret. Vox didn't hesitate to blackmail you with knowing the truth about you, and you knew that sinners would tear you to pieces if they found out the truth about you, so you agreed to work for him. It wasn't exactly what you expected, but maybe it wasn't such a bad option

Working with Vox wasn't as bad as you thought. You did not notice how the relationship between you has become much better. You sometimes told him about what life was like in Heaven. Now, being in Hell on a permanent basis, you saw that life in Hell, although it was different from the one you were used to, but not so much that your life changed dramatically. Vox liked your character, he liked how tough you could communicate with others. He liked you, even though you've been killing sinners for years

Vox was glad that you were on his side. You knew a lot about angels and it helped him. You were his valuable ally and a person close to him. He didn't know why you left Heaven, but even if he might be in danger, you were the one who wouldn't let him get hurt. You, overlord and exterminator, together were a strong alliance that could do a lot in Hell

[azullumi]

“boyfriend messages” ; diluc & kaveh

info — random conversations between you two that are part of your daily life; alternatively, how does he communicate through text messages?

characters — diluc and kaveh (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, modern au ; headcanons

words — 920

note — need me a gossip buddy who’ll film fights for me, also, ignore the timestamps and status bar !! i still have another fic coming up but i need to be focused while writing it (^^)/

;; 🍷

he’s often the first one to greet you in the morning, the first one to give you a call before you start your day, always the one to accompany you.

calls. call. calls. if it’s not so obvious already, this man prefers calling more than texting—prefers hearing your voice than reading words on a digital screen and having to imagine what you would sound like saying them. he always make sure that he calls you at least once each day, even if one of you has to hang up after a few minutes or if you two would only do their own thing and not talk to each other that much. in line of that, falling asleep during the call is something that isn’t uncommon between you and him.

aside from other close friends and acquaintances, you’re the only one in his contacts and the only one he always talk to—his call history is just you accompanied with a few others and your name is always on top of his messages. he has your profile saved with a sweet endearment as its name and a photo that he took of you, in which its existence you don’t know of.

a random thing about him is that he doesn’t use emojis at all, and prefers not using them. it’s not like he doesn’t understand the use of it, it’s just that he chooses not to. on that note, he doesn’t go ‘AHAHAHAHA’ in text whenever he finds something funny—he doesn’t go for the lowercase one either—he simply just tells you: “that’s funny.”

he’s not afraid to tell you that he misses you, that he wants to see you, and just one word from you, one message, a single statement, he’ll be right there at your doorstep to satisfy his yearning and yours also. even if he’s from the other side of the world, he’ll make his way to you as long as you also feel the same.

one thing that he often does for you is drop off gifts for you or have it delivered to your name without your knowledge and thus, he always end up surprising you—sending him a message as soon as you receive it with a bunch of question marks or anything. his gifts are often random, a variety, it could be food, could be books, jewelry, something that has been in your wishlist or cart for so long but couldn’t get, and many more. his reason? he just wants to. it’s not an exaggeration to say that your home isn’t filled with items that you got from him.

have i mentioned that he just loves showing off his affection to you in many ways that he can? he just loves you, that’s all the reason needed for everything.

;; 🌻

gossip buddy and lover boy. gossip is always found in your message history with him, it’s that one topic that has you two talking for hours, often diverting to another one before going back to it at just a mention of a word—“speaking of apples, did you know ‘toilet’ got into trouble because he threw one at the window? also, i heard that he cheated on his girlfriend.”

the most ridiculous code names are being used as a substitute for someone’s name and if someone were to ever hear you or see the chats, they would end up being confused on why are you talking about a water bottle and a shower head having a fight in a bar.

he is exceptionally good at expressing himself through texting despite the many struggles of others when doing so—he uses emojis, gifs, emoticons, images, and everything, it’s not shocking that he uses some combinations even and it’s not also surprising that you’ll get used to his texting language and even adapt to it. although, he often shortens his words whenever he’s in a rush: ‘sry hve 2 go, ppl r clling m’ is translated to, ‘sorry i have to go, people are calling me’ and there’s a mwa (a kiss in the form of words) at the end.

the type to greet you as soon as the clock strikes twelve when it’s your birthday, the type to send the randomest message at the most random time on the morning, and the type that will tell you in advance if he wouldn’t be able to message you for some time as he’s occupied with some things—mainly, his plates—which gets you worried because when he’s at that state, he will most likely forget to take care of himself.

that leads you to having to check up on him from time to time, asking if he had eaten anything and telling him to take a break. he appreciates it really, despite the scoldings he gets from you when you learn of the fact that he had neglected himself, it shows that you care.

he sends photos of himself, a selfie or a mirror photo showing off his outfit before he goes out. he hasn’t said it but he loves it whenever you rain him with compliments, it has him grinning like an idiot on his phone (mans kicks his feet and rolls around the bed).

he just loves talking to you, whether it’s through the mere act of messaging and calling each other or doing it in real-time, gossiping and discussing about rumors that would entertain you both for boths or simply just him admiring you with his eyes as he listened to you blabber about the most randomest things.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[eksvaized]

Part One König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist: - (if you want to be added - let me know!)

since I finished editing 'just friends', I decided to rewrite & edit this story, so I hope you'll enjoy the new version! <3

Each morning, you awaken alone. The enormous bed, once filled with warmth, now cold and empty. Today, your morning isn't any different from the countless ones that have come before. As you roll onto your side, your hand stretches out, tracing the cool, empty expanse of the mattress. Your fingers curl around the frosty pillow, its fabric still bearing the faintest scent of him. You draw it closer to you, clutching at it in a futile attempt to fill the void that is left by your boyfriend and his lack of presence.

A sigh, barely audible, escapes your lips as a wave of loneliness engulfs you. Its icy tendrils wrap tightly around your heart, constricting it in a bitter reminder of your solitude. You yearn for a morning where you can flutter open your eyes to find König next to you, his arms securely wrapped around your body, his breath warm against your skin. You long to see him still sleeping, his face relaxed in peaceful slumber, instead of disappearing and getting out of bed as soon as the first rays of sunshine peek through the window. A longing for the soft whispers of "good morning" and the gentle comfort of his embrace fills you, making the emptiness of the bed all the more pathetic.

The first two years of your relationship with König were great. You were happy, genuinely happy, and over the moon because you finally had someone in your life, who truly cared about you, who showered you with attention and affection, and even lavished you with expensive gifts. You felt cherished and valued, and it was a feeling unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

However, as of late, König has transformed into someone unrecognizable. He is still your boyfriend; you love him very much, and he probably loves you even more. Yet, his demeanour, his behaviour, and the manner in which he has started to conduct himself have left you in a state of constant questioning. The love you once never doubted now seems uncertain, as his actions and attitude have begun to paint a different picture—he's not the man you met and fell in love with two years ago.

Sometimes, usually after a couple glasses of wine when you've gathered the courage, you dare to confront him about his nonchalant attitude towards you. In these moments of newfound bravery, you bombard him with questions, desperately seeking to understand if it's something you are doing that causes him to act as if he couldn't care less about you or your feelings. But no matter how earnestly you implore, he never gives you the answers you're looking for. He never provides any concrete explanations or reasons for his indifference.

He has a myriad of excuses for why he doesn't want to engage with you about your concerns. The reasons are countless and they change each time, just like shifting sands, always elusive and never consistent. You've heard a variety of them. For instance, he might dismiss your confrontation because of you being wine drunk, suggesting that you should go to bed. Another time, he might say he's too tired to engage in a deep conversation and promise to talk with you in the morning.

But perhaps the one that stings the most, your least favourite, is when he pretends he didn't hear you. Even when you're standing directly in front of him, looking at him with teary eyes, and pouring out your heart, he chooses to feign ignorance and act as though he didn't hear a single word. This cold dismissal is far worse than any words he could say.

Although he's cold with you, he never never displays any outright cruelty. Still, you can't help but notice the chilly detachment that has creeps into his voice when he talks with you. It's as if a frost has settled over your conversations, making each word feel like a shard of ice. Or the flicker of irritation that now seems to have taken up permanent residence in his eyes whenever he comes home and sees you. It's as if he's looking through you rather than at you, seeing not the person you are but the person he wishes you were.

König has constructed around himself an impenetrable wall. A wall so thick and so high that no matter how much you chip away at it, no matter how hard you try to scale its heights, it remains steadfast. It stands there as a constant reminder of the gulf that has opened up between you two—a gulf that seems to widen with each passing day.

You find yourself continuously attempting to convince your own mind that this is merely a fleeting phase, a temporary hiccup in your relationship. Every relationship, after all, has its own set of struggles and hurdles to overcome. It's normal, you tell yourself, maybe all you need to do is to be patient and wait it out. Time has a way of healing wounds and mending bridges, and perhaps a little more of it could be the magic potion that brings everything back to the way it used to be - normal and simple.

However, despite your best efforts to suppress it, there's a harsh, cruel voice that resides in the deepest recesses of your mind, nagging persistently. It casts a dark shadow of doubt over your thoughts, suggesting with an unsettling certainty that maybe, just maybe, the once deep love that existed between you and him is gradually, and painfully, fading away into oblivion.

You are brewing coffee, desperately hoping that the invigorating aroma and the caffeine would help to dissipate the remnants of sleep that linger stubbornly within you. The quiet solitude of the early morning embraces you, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the brewing machine and the occasional chirping of a bird outside.

But suddenly, the tranquillity of the moment shatters like glass as the front door swings open with a force that rings through the house. This abrupt entrance is quickly followed by the distinct, rhythmic thud of heavy boots making their way down the lengthy corridor. Each footfall sends a reverberation through the floorboards. The sound is so familiar, yet it sends a jolt through your heart. You don't even need to turn around to know - König has returned home.

Over the past few weeks, you've found yourself walking on eggshells around him. It feels as though the surrounding air has become thin and brittle, ready to shatter at the slightest misstep. You've been constantly monitoring your words and actions, choosing them with careful deliberation so as not to accidentally exacerbate his increasingly volatile mood, which has been fluctuating more frequently as days pass. But when he finally appears in the doorway of the kitchen, his face etched with deep lines of exhaustion and his eyes vacant, you find the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

"What's wrong?"

His response is curt, delivered with an air of finality that leaves no room for further questions. "Nothing you need to worry about, liebling," he says, attempting to alleviate the palpable tension in the kitchen with a smile. But it's strained, fragile, like a piece of glass that's on the verge of shattering. The corners of his lips quiver slightly, an involuntary reaction betraying his inner turmoil. The frown lines etched deep on his forehead refuse to disappear, stubbornly present even as he tries to mask his emotions.

He closes the distance between you, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He leans in to plant a brief, fleeting kiss on your forehead, his lips colder than you remember, their warmth replaced by a chill that sends a shiver down your spine. As he continues his task, his hand reaches up to retrieve a cup from the cupboard above your head. You can't help but notice the new changes in him. His movements lack their usual grace, his touch feels mechanical, and his caresses are devoid of the genuine affection you've grown accustomed to. It's as if he's simply operating on autopilot, his mind evidently elsewhere.

You yearn for him to confide in you, to share his burdens and let you in on the whirlwind of thoughts that seem to be plaguing him. You wish to be his solace, to help him navigate through his sea of worries. More than anything, you want to help him, to alleviate his worries and bring back the man you know and love. But how can you do that if he refuses to let you in, if he remains so stubbornly silent, his emotions locked up tighter than a fortress?

"I'm leaving tomorrow. Have another mission. It's going to be a short one," König finally says, his gaze piercing you with an intensity that suggests he's expecting you to blow up.

However, you strive to maintain your composure. You have no intention of descending into another fruitless argument; every time he leaves after a fight, you feel awful for the way you acted.

"It's only been a week since you've returned home," you say, your eyes focused on the steaming cup cradled in your hands. The heat radiating from the cup is causing your fingertips to tingle, and the steam is lightly brushing against your skin. Despite the discomfort, you hold on to it with a firm grip. "I thought you were going to stay for at least another week. We had plans, remember? You gave me your word—."

He cuts you off before you can complete your sentence. "Plans have changed."

There have been countless times when you've wanted to confront König, to ask him directly why he finds it so challenging to uphold the promises that he so confidently makes. Yet each time you find yourself holding back, fully aware that such a conversation would be futile and would only result in both of you raising your voices in frustration. It has become painfully clear that he has no intention of discussing work-related matters with you.

König has a habit of offering reassurances that are devoid of any real comfort. He frequently insists that it's silly for you to burden your mind with matters that, in his opinion, do not directly concern you. This line of reasoning, though flawed, he presents as if it were an undeniable truth. And if, despite his attempts to dissuade you, you still muster the courage to press further, he always has a fallback. He always abruptly ends the conversation, leaving you hanging with a parting remark that it would be safer, better for you, if you remained ignorant.

* * *

As dawn breaks, you stir from your slumber only to find yourself enveloped once again by the cold emptiness of the bed beside you. The dreary grey skies outside mirror your inner turmoil. Raindrops pitter-patter gently against the windowpane. König didn't even bother waking you up before leaving. Yet, his absence is punctuated by a hastily scrawled note left carelessly on the nightstand. The message is brief and impersonal, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth: 'had to get up early, didn't want to wake you up. see you soon.'

Was it really so difficult to scribble three more words?

With a soft sigh, you whisper into the stillness of the bedroom, "I love you, too." The words, left unsaid by him, hang heavy in the air. You clutch the note in your hand before crumpling it and aimlessly tossing it onto the mattress.

With a great deal of effort, you pull yourself from the warm embrace of the bed, your feet reluctantly making contact with the icy floor beneath. You pause for a second, collecting your scattered thoughts, allowing the remnants of sleep to fade away as you mentally prepare yourself for yet another day.

Slowly, you venture through the hauntingly silent house, each step echoing through the stillness of the early morning. Each room you pass through seems to reverberate with echoes of a thousand memories that seem to cling to the walls and linger in the air. Yet amidst the symphony of remembrances, there's one memory that stands out from the rest, a memory that refuses to be drowned out by the others. It's that heated argument with König, a fiery exchange of words and emotions that took place just a few months ago.

You vividly recall the sting of his dismissive attitude on that day when you bared your soul to him, accusing him bitterly of not taking your relationship as seriously as you did, accusing him of taking your love, your commitment, for granted as if it were an inconsequential thing.

In the depths of your heart, you wished fervently, desperately even, for him to just be honest with you if his feelings for you were slowly fading away, like the last embers of a once roaring fire. You wanted him to admit it if he no longer felt the same passion, the same affection that once seemed to radiate from him like a comforting warmth.

But instead of providing the honesty you craved, he had merely dismissed your concerns, brushed them aside like dust. He told you that you were imagining things, that it was all just a figment of your overactive imagination, assuring you with words that felt hollow, that nothing between you two had changed.

But by the day's end, he had taken a step that had left you reeling in confusion. He had asked you to move in with him, a grand gesture that he believed would dispel your doubts and insecurities, a gesture that he thought would reassure you of his commitment. But instead of providing the comfort he hoped it would, it merely added another layer of complexity to the turbulent sea of emotions within you.

Initially, there was a glimmer of hope, a faint belief that things were on the verge of improving. You harboured the thought that perhaps the physical distance, the living apart, had been the catalyst that dimmed the once vibrant flame of your relationship. However, as each day bled into the next, and weeks morphed into seemingly interminable months, the solitary confinement within these walls began to weigh heavily on you.

The more time you spent alone in this house, the more you found yourself yearning for the familiar corners of your old apartment, regretting the decision to sell it to relocate here. After all, you pondered, what difference does it make where you live? The four walls of a room are just that, and the absence of König made this house feel no different than your old apartment.

What was the point of moving in together if König was always away, prioritising his work and his duty as a soldier above you?

You shake your head, as if physically trying to dispel the thoughts that have begun to creep into your mind. You can't allow yourself to dwell on them any longer, to let them take root and cast a shadow over your day. After all, the day has only just begun and you don't want to end up sulking on the couch, a prisoner in your own home, wallowing in a sea of regret and loneliness.

You stroll into the kitchen. As you slowly approach the counter, your fingers lightly graze the cool, granite surface, your mind whirling with the endless possibilities of what to make for breakfast. Your gaze wanders aimlessly, eventually settling on the window that provides a picturesque view of the neighbourhood.

You squint against the bright sun, your eyes catching an unusual sight - a man, his face damp with sweat under the morning sun, is engaged in an arduous task of moving boxes from a truck to the house across the street. His movements are slow and meticulous, each box handled with care as if they contain something precious.

A new neighbour.

A sense of intrigue washes over you, an irresistible curiosity that grips your very being. It's a magnetic pull that holds your attention captive, rendering you incapable of tearing your gaze away from the scene unfolding before your eyes.

His house lies across the street, a good distance away, yet his features are strikingly apparent and impossible to ignore even from your secluded vantage point in the cosy confines of your kitchen. His stature is tall and imposing, a figure that commands attention. His shoulders are broad, his hair is a dishevelled mess of rich blond locks.

As the day wears on, you find yourself repeatedly drawn to the kitchen window. Every so often, the man would step outside to retrieve yet another box from his truck, providing you with fleeting glimpses of him.

You remind yourself that you are in a committed relationship. You know that ogling other men is not something you should be doing. It's not something you usually do, and it's certainly not something you want to make a habit of.

However, in the recesses of your mind, a voice tries to justify your actions. It whispers, seeking to ease your guilt. You're just looking. That's not really doing anything wrong, right? It's a feeble attempt at rationalizing, but it works nonetheless.

[emeraldbloodcrown]

Once More

Chapter: Two - Rumors and Hesitations Pairing: Poly; Tattoo Artists!141 x Baker!Female Reader Summary: It's time to explore the town a little, leaving you with some insecurities after sampling one of the big coffee shops your grandmother seemed to hate. Content/Warning: Still none, just small towns being small towns Word Count: 4k

You couldn't find it in you to argue with Anna's reasoning and taking another look at the flyer, you both agreed to take the opportunity to get to know your neighbors.

"We should probably take a walk around town before that. That would probably earn us some points when we talk to the owners"

"Sounds like fun. Tomorrow then?"

You nodded, putting the flyer away and reaching for your dinner again when you remembered another thing on your to-do list. Making a small sound of frustration, which got Anna's attention and a questioning look from her, as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, along with the small note. 

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing bad. I got some help while I was shopping from another customer, promised I'd text them so I could thank them properly."

"Properly, huh." Her voice dipped teasingly, getting a seductive edge and she waggled her eyebrows at your words. Rolling your eyes, you punched her in the shoulder, getting a yelp from her. 

"Nothing like that"

Anna shortened the distance between you both so that she could look over your shoulder while you typed his number in. 

"A note? Did you get help from the elderly variety?"

"Nah, just older."

She watched you as you quickly wrote a text, something short and straight to the point but with a kind tone still. 

"We're barely a month here and you've already got a date," Anna grumbled before she scooted back to her chair to finish her food. 

John wasn't the type of person who enjoyed texting. In fact, if it hadn't been for Johnny's encouraging, well really bothering him multiple times a day for almost a year, he still would carry his old Nokia. It had gotten the job done, he could text and he could call with it, but each time Johnny had seen it, he looked like he wanted to throw it out of the window, so John had relented and gotten a cheap second-hand one. 

He still kept up the pretense of preferring his old one, just to get on Johnny's nerves now and then, but he had to admit, never out loud of course, that setting up a time in his phone to heat his house, so it would be toasty warm when he got home in the winter, was a convenience he didn't want to part from anymore. It had originally been to help his ex-wife with her arthritis but in the end, he had used that more than she had. 

So when he had been cooking, really only heating up the leftovers Kate had brought him, and he'd been mindlessly staring out of the window, only to hear his phone go off with a new text message, he had half a mind to ignore it. 

It would most likely be Kyle asking him something he had no idea how to answer or Simon who would use an administrative question, that he already knew the answer of, to weasle his way into a conversation about John's whereabouts and wellbeing. 

Despite all of that, he still pulled the device out, and he was right. Well, partially. Because on top of Kyle's and Simon's texts was another one, from a new number but with a name he recognized. He had been hoping to hear from you soon, to go back into the little bubble, but he hadn't expected it so soon. It tugged a faint smile into the corner of his mouth. 

'Just wanted to know when I'd get the chance to thank you, and where you'd like to go.'

His lips twitched. Even proper punctuation, hm? He didn't know if you'd done it for him or if that was something you focused on yourself, but he appreciated it nonetheless. 

With a swipe of his thumb, he unlocked his phone, careful to not get on one of his boys' texts, and went to answer you. 

'Like I said, there's really no need. Coffee will be fine.' 

He watched as the little pen appeared, indicating you were already typing a response, and his smile widened a little. 

'See, I'll show my grandma that and all I'm gonna get is a slipper to the face. If you only truly want to have coffee with me, that's fine.' 

'But with how long you've helped me, I think it calls for more'

Ever since you had mentioned it the first time, he had wondered who your grandmother might be, what spitfire you might be related to, and while there was a handful he could see doing it, it mostly had left him with the amusing mental picture. 

'And what does it call for?'

The pen stayed longer this time, the animation stopping a few times only to pop up again after a moment. 

'Dinner?'

'Or lunch, if dinner's too much."

John felt the knot appear in his stomach again. Ever since his ex-wife had moved out, only leaving him the divorce papers that he had yet to sign, he had been hesitant to be seen in town for more than a few minutes. They were all lovely people but the disadvantage with as a tight-knit community as theirs was that everybody talked. 

Between separation and his unwanted leave of absence had only been one afternoon, night, and morning, not even 24 hours, and yet everyone he had met that day looked at him with pity. A look so well-meaning but every time it was focused on him, it felt as if it was burning him, searing his very skin from the flesh. It had irritated him so much that in his effort to not say something unkind - so they would just fucking stop -, he had bitten his tongue so long that it had started to bleed a bit. 

The almost altercations had been enough that it became obvious that John couldn't work like this, that a little bit of time off would do him good, and it did. It felt good to come to terms with it, even though he often caught himself reaching for her before his brain could fight off his dream with the bitter bite of reality. But for the most part, it also hadn't helped. He had grown so used to being on his own, to being able to exist without needing to worry about what others thought, that the idea of subjecting himself to their unwanted opinions was already grinding his gears. 

Coffee had seemed like a small thing, something he could steel his nerves for, and then disappear for days on end before he had to endure the loud outside again. The two of you could've walked across town a little, he could've used it as an excuse to show you around just to not be in one place for too long, surely not long enough for anyone to make sure it was really him they had recognized. 

But lunch or dinner? That meant being stuck in one place for a while, meant people would see him, meant people would perceive him once more, and acknowledge him not as his wife's husband, as the proud businessman and helpful handyman, but just as someone who failed. 

The angry bubbling of his dinner pulled him out of his thoughts, his phone forgotten for a moment as he tried to salvage the damage. With the stove turned off and the pot pushed away from the hob, he took another glance at his phone, shooting you one last text before he powered it down. 

'Think I'm gonna have to insist on the coffee. Maybe another time.'

You had always prided yourself on being able to read people's moods very well, even through text, a skill born out of necessity in your childhood that was only sharpened with experience as you got older. You tried not to let it get to you, but you couldn't help but feel a bit dejected at John's last response, noticing the change in his mood in his texts no matter how often you read them. 

But each to their own, right? There could be a dozen reasons for that shift, and if he was only up for coffee, you wouldn't argue with that. If anything - your brain quickly tried to rationalize - it could be better, a chance to combine something fun with work, allowing you to see what you might wanna offer once you've rebuilt the bakery with Anna. 

The next day came and John's text was forgotten beyond telling Anna what day and time you'd be gone. Instead, you found yourself outside, a light jacket wrapped around your body, autumn already chilling the early morning air. With a to-go coffee (once again, not from a fast-paced coffee shop) in one hand and the other in your pocket, hooked around Anna's elbow, the two of wandered the streets, heels clicking over the cobbles. 

Your grandmother had been able to score the building for the bakery on a busy but cozy street, close enough to the town square that wandering customers could just stumble onto it but as you rounded the corner, it paled in comparison to the bustle the shops there received even this early in the day. 

Anna noticed a shop to your left and just by looking at it, you knew that this would be one of the new shops that seemed to always put a frown on your grandmother's face. 

"Coff-ee-holic, really?" You deadpanned, feeling a little bit of sympathy for your grandma.

"Can't go wrong with a pun."

You shot her a glare before you mentioned one word to her: "Henry." Anna's face contorted in disgust at your last long-term relationship. She had never hidden how much she had disliked him with you and mocked nearly daily his need to constantly spew puns, even when it was the wrong moment for them. 

"He doesn't count. And it's an insult to puns to be compared to that…person."

Scoffing, you followed her to the menu display in one of the windows, glancing over the wide array of drinks. Passing your eyes past it, you could see the baristas working behind the counter, which took up almost half of their space, only leaving two seating sections in both corners. It was clear that they prioritized getting their customers a quick caffeine fix above comfort and coziness, which had been your grandma's priority above anything else. 

"Hold that"

Faster than you realized, Anna had slipped her half-full cup into your hand and slipped out from your elbow, quickly heading into the shop. You opened your mouth to call her back but by that time you could already see her through the window standing in line, it was too late. 

The line progressed at a pace that seemed like an impossible dream in the city you had called your home not too long ago. Sure, that was also due to the fact that this town simply didn't have the same numbers as a city, despite how well-patronized this shop was, but you'd also chalk up to these baristas being less stressed and more motivated than the overworked ones you had encountered before moving. 

Hardly any time passed before Anna was at the front of the line and got her order, joining you again outside and taking a mouthful from her new drink. A moment later, her eyes widened and hummed happily. 

"That's really good. Go on, give it a try."

Switching cups with her, you sipped hesitantly. Coffee wasn't something you usually enjoyed and while Anna preferred them nearly black, with just a hint of sweetness, yours could rather be dubbed as sugar with coffee than the other way around. It was generally just something you drank when you needed to get yourself going. 

Despite all of that, although, you found yourself going back for seconds, this one was quite bigger than the first. There was still the bitterness, the telltale taste of coffee, but it wasn't overwhelming, mingling with a natural sweetness that made it tasty even to you. 

"Okay, this is just unfair."

"Supposed to be some fancy blend that they make."

"Of course, it is."

The two of you shared a look - if this is what you'd be up against once the bakery is restored, you'd need a plan, and while that was music for the distant future, it wouldn't hurt to keep it in mind - before you continued your stroll. 

It was true that in the years you were gone, the town had changed a lot but, as you and Anna kept exploring the streets, you found that it still had kept the charm you had yearned for in all the time away. Still largely immune to society's incessant need to rush towards goals, it invited you to take your time, to sit down and exhale, and really take this little town in. While progress clung to everything like mold in the corner, it hadn't been able to infect the base, hadn't been able to shake the ground and turn it into a mindless run-of-the-mill copy of everything else. 

It still had heart, and in that moment, you made a promise to yourself. Regardless of what you'd need to do to fulfill your grandmother's wish because you knew it wouldn't succeed as an exact doppelganger of what she had created, so it had to change in some way, but you wanted to keep this. You didn't want the incessant grind to popularity, the soul-consuming hunt for bigger things that seemed to stare you in the face each time you opened your phone. 

Instead, you wanted it to be the bliss of a job well done, the pride that would bloom in your chest when looking at what you'd achieved. You wanted the ache and tiredness in your bones from the hard work but free of infecting stress. No more thinking about quitting every day, only putting in the hours because you needed the money to survive. No, you wanted to enjoy yourself again, to have the drive to create your own living. 

However, that would look like. 

Hours passed and you were able to get the idea of how this town worked again: the gaggle of elderlies and adults who loved to spread gossip around, the people who seemed to belong to no group but who were largely protected by the whole community, and who could give you grief while living here if you got on their wrong side. 

It wasn't a full picture by any means, but the corner pieces of the puzzle were in place, allowing you a glimpse at what the result might look like. 

"Can we sit down somewhere? I’m hungry and my feet hurt," Anna grumbled and you cast your eyes around. You saw a glimpse of a small restaurant around the corner and you pointed towards it. 

"That sound good?"

"Sure, as long as it has a seat and food, I don't care what it is."

Chuckling, you made your way towards it, only for you to catch sight of another shop to your left, making you stop and Anna stumble at the sudden movement. 

The door was closed but all over it were names in a graffiti style but it looked less like it had fallen victim to a bored street artist and more like it was a design choice by the owners. Left and right of it were big, clear windows with several concept drawings, finished colored pieces, and pictures of people presenting those on their skin. Above the windows, in a graffiti font too, was the name of it. 

"Death Or Glory… Jesus, that's edge behavior. You want some new ink?"

"Maybe…"

Anna opened her mouth for another question but paused as a dark shadow loomed over you, making you both take a look at the sky, where the sun was still brightly shining, only to hear someone speak behind you. 

"'Scuse me."

The voice was low, a rumbling from deep within in the chest, but seemingly void of emotions, no polite uptick or annoyed frustration present. So, you turned around and felt the blood in your veins chill. 

Dear fucking God, if looks could kill. 

It didn't help that he was towering over both of you, making you reach for Anna almost on instinct and taking a step back, and covered nearly head to toe in black. Even his face was almost completely hidden, a mask sitting on the lower half, the fabric only stopping on the bridge of his nose. The little skin that should've been visible was darkened by him having the hood drawn deep into his face, leaving the only thing you could see of him were his eyes. 

Despite the general warm attribution of brown as a warm color, all you could feel was ice as he glared down at you, and you felt yourself jump as his eyebrow ticked up, displeased by something. 

"Move"

Never had one word sounded so terrifying and it was only thanks to Anna, who yanked you to her side so you'd free up the entrance, that you were even able to comply with his order. 

There was no other word spoken, no thanks or anything else, he just walked through the door and let it slam shut behind him. 

Utterly confused by that situation, you felt your blood thaw as your heart pounded painfully in your chest. The fear you had felt just seconds ago was gone and had been displaced by anger.

"What the hell? What was his fucking problem??"

Anna refused not to say anything to it, more focused on bringing her own heartbeat back to normal and avoiding being hit by your wild hand movements, your body's response of releasing the agitation in your system. 

You grabbed her hand and took her with you as you stomped your way to the restaurant, muttering annoyances under your breath. 

"Fucking weirdo. I hope I never have to see him again."

The door closed behind Simon and, alerted by the sound, Johnny peaked his head around the corner, arms full of boxes of protective gloves. 

"Ye been ta John's?"

"Tried. Wouldn't open the door."

Johnny heaved a sigh, putting the boxes away and running a hand through his short hair. 

"How many times is this now?"

"Didn't bother counting. Too many, tho."

Both men looked at each other. Something needed to happen. It had been several weeks by now and while they all knew that their boss wouldn't be able to just shake the pain off, the way John seemed eager to not be seen by anyone if he could help it, left them all with heavy hearts. No one expected a healed wound but it felt more like John was eager to keep them gaping as long as possible. 

"What do we get today?"

"Next appointment's in two hours, longer piece but tha's about it. Pretty sure ye scared off a possible walk-in. Ain't like I'm doin' inventory fer fun."

Simon just shrugged, taking his balaclava off and replacing it with a surgical mask. 

At first, they hadn't thought anything about it. Customers always fluctuated a bit, but it was never a cause of concern: tattoos were expensive, most weren't signing up for the next after one piece was done, and despite the town being somewhat of a tourist secret tip, walk-ins had never been a lot. 

But after the second week of John being gone, it became clear that people were avoiding them as if they'd catch a dose of his bad luck if they stepped into his shop. A silly notion that Simon refused to believe at first until he heard it parrot back by their regulars, pushing their appointments to "just gimme a ring when he's back". 

Of course, things only got worse after Johnny had gotten into a fight, the rumors got out of control, and now weeks later, they were fully struggling.

Perks of a small town, right? 

"Off to better things."

Simon cocked an eyebrow and watched Johnny take a flyer out of his pockets, and as soon as he saw the big, colorful letters, he was rolling his eyes and pushed past Johnny, conversation evidently done. 

"Absolutely not."

But had he ever been cautious around Simon, he had long grown immune to it because Johnny was hot on his heels. 

"Oh come on, ye weren't coming to the last one, either. Or any before tha'."

"And I ain't going to. Same thing every time."

"Could be good ta mingle with the folks. Prove ta 'em tha' were not as bad as they think, aye?"

Simon turned around, staring down at Johnny, but when the latter refused to back down, he simply said: 

"Ask Kyle."

The rest of the day had been uneventful. Anna and you had continued to explore a little after lunch, mostly following your foggy memories and piecing together who you remembered, and also who remembered you, and what had fallen away in the meantime. 

By the time you were finally back, the two of you were satiated and fed but also so very tired and dead on your feet that the call of your bed was more similar to a siren's song, and nothing sounded better at that moment than to lie down on it, even if it was your turn with the mattress on the floor.

"We need a place of our own," she repeated the senitment and you only hummed in exhaustion. That was future you's problem while present you had a hot date with Morpheus. You could feel your eyelids growing heavier by the second, sleep taking over you as you heard a loud crash above you. 

Anna and you sat up ramstock straight, sharing a glance for barely a second before you both jumped into action, immediately locating the source of the noise to come from your grandmother's room. 

You yanked the door open, taking two steps at once to get to the upper floor, and only stopped once you were at her door, repeatedly knocking hard enough on her door that it shook in its frame. 

You paused for a moment, listening for sounds on the other side and when none came, you pulled the door open and saw your grandmother kneeling on the floor. 

"Are you alright?"

In a few long and fast strides, you were next to her, checking her for any visible injuries but, after noticing the concern in your eyes, she just waved you off. 

"'m fine, dearie. Didn't fall."

Anna stopped next to you, blood pressure cuff in her hand. She pulled the loose fabric of your grandmother's nightgown up her arm and wrapped the cuff around it, making sure the tube was in the middle, and then started the device. 

"Then what was that noise?"

She cast her eyes down for a moment, seemingly thinking about her answer before a kind smile appeared on her features and she spoke reassuringly. 

"That book pile fell over. Had it on the chair and I accidentally tipped it over."

Following her eyes, you saw the chair still fallen over, the books she had mentioned weren't on the ground but on the table in front of the chair. 

"So why are you on the floor?"

"Just had to take a small break. Didn't expect the cavalary to come knocking." She chuckled but it didn't reach her eyes. Something wasn't right and you felt a chill settle in your body; you didn't like this. 

"On..the floor?"

"What, I remember you preferring to rest in all sorts of odds places. Gave me a fright the first time I found you in the tub sleeping."

Yeah, when you were fifteen. You hadn't done that in years because your job had left your bones too exhausted to be able to get up with no issue, which made it that less believable for your grandmother at her age to prefer the hard wooden floor instead of her soft bed, just a few meters away. 

"Just help an old lady up, will ya?"

[beatrixstonehill2]

"All right, guys, I hope you all come to the stream in four hours! Aren't you all soooo excited to see such a big, soft pair of breasts like mine get completely destroyed? Judging by all the DMs I get from men practically begging me to get them chopped off and livestream it, I'd say a lot of you. I know, some of you would far rather me continue taking breast growth drugs and get these puppies so massive I need a wheelbarrow to get around. And that would be fun, but it's so much naughtier to ruin something so perfect......

Well, the actual reason is simpler! I'm a personal trainer, and work with lots of different clients from all walks of life. I met a really cute surgeon who was enamored with my breasts as all my other clients. He asked to touch them, grope them, I began offering to let him suck them as a reward for meeting his goals, as I did with most of my male clients. I swear half the time our gym looked less like a gym and more like some adult breastfeeding lounge. All of us girls with breasts as huge as mine or bigger, smothering our male clients with our giant breasts, enthusiastically letting them drink our milk as we jerk off their cocks. A nice job well done for completing their routines.....

This guy was different, he marveled at my tits in a different way. His mouth watered, but not the way I'm used to. He pulled away from my breast one day and confessed that he fantasized about chopping off my boobs. His cock got so hard in my hand I thought it would erupt right then and there. He said he only became a surgeon to convince huge-breasted girls they needed their tits chopped off, usually tricking them or lying to them, making up a story about lumps or tumors or family history necessitating a rather graphic double mastectomy, always streamed live to his Instagram.

I watched his content and never in my life have I masturbated with so much raw energy. I felt as desperate as all the gym dudes I breastfed and jerked off. Dozens and dozens of beautiful girls with breasts my size, sometimes bigger, sometimes quite smaller, all awake. They watched curiously as he administered a paralyzing drug that made it so they couldn't move. Though some of the girls were outright paralyzed from the shoulders down for the surgery, usually at the behest of their husband or boyfriend. The surgeon would use a creative variety of ways to remove the girls' big gorgeous boobs, sometimes being casual and simply dismantling them with a few scalpels and other surgical tools, with the help of his pretty assistant, a cheery blonde who was often extremely pregnant. Boy, I wonder who kept her so enormously pregnant? What a mystery.....

Other times, the surgeon would use absurd methods like placing the girls' tits on a cutting board and just chopping them off with a weapon like an axe or sword. You couldn't say the guy wasn't passionate. After watching more of his 'surgery' videos than I care to admit, I called him sweating, rubbing my cunt despite having just orgasmed about fifteen times in the last three or four hours. I was coated in my juices. I was exhausted, almost ready to pass out. I told him I wanted him to destroy my breasts as soon as possible. But on one condition..... I wanted him to crush my tits. Flatten them, so the fat bursts out the sides, making a total mess. He seemed to love this idea. Now I'm sitting here in my work uniform. His personal trainer, coming in to take some punishment of my own for a change. Call it payback for pushing him so hard at the gym, or a reward for doing so well. Either way, I can't wait for millions to tune in and watch my gorgeous, fat titties get crushed like pancakes! Then maybe I'll have the surgeon take a few pics of me with my empty, saggy tits as a new profile picture..... Maybe I'll try to jiggle them and put on a show for you? While they're still numb..... then what's left will be sliced off and tossed in the trash, where my fat, oversized cow tits truly belong! ❤️"

[ryin-silverfish]

For those not familiar with the Chinese Studio book, could you please name the fox spirits that appear in the book?

That is...quite a monumental task, because there are so many of them! Like, more than 80 out of 500+ short stories. As such, I'll just list the foxes I like the most.

Feng Sanniang - the one and only lesbian fox of Liaozhai, who falls in love with Fan Shiyi Niang (who is implied to feel the same way), yet can't get together with her for obvious reasons, and settles on finding a good husband for her crush instead.

When Shiyi Niang's family objected to the marriage and forced her into suicide, Feng Sanniang revives her, reunites her with her husband, and...has her cultivation ruined when said man slept with her while she was drunk.

No seriously, what. After that, she reveals she is a fox and falls in love with Shiyi Niang at first sight, but alas, staying with her would only cause more suffering for both of them, before leaving forever.

Ying Ning - not a full fox, but the daughter of a human and a fox, raised by a ghostly granny. Babygirl. Like, she's just so cute in the first half of the story. Yet she isn't completely naive and innocent, and the subtle stepford smiler implication is...really sad.

Hong Yu - the bro-est of foxes. She starts dating in secret with a scholar, gets yelled at by said scholar's dad for violating laws of propriety, settles on being a wingman and giving enough money to her boyfriend to marry another woman before leaving.

However, the scholar's marriage was soon torn apart by a corrupt official forcing his wife to be a concubine; in return, his wife committed suicide and his father died of grief and rage.

Then a nameless vigilante killed the corrupt official, and the scholar was arrested because of it. During the arrest, his young son was forcefully separated from him and went missing, and when he was finally released, he had lost everything except his house.

But suddenly, Hong Yu showed up with his son! She had saved the kid and raised him while the scholar was in jail, and through her subsequent labor, the family was restored to prosperity.

Lian Xiang - the fox in the human-fox-ghost love triangle. "She's just bad for you, dear, literally. Like, she is a ghost and sleeping with her will slowly kill you. But alright, if you insist, I'll heal you after her visits."

The love triangle gets resolved in a fox-human-ghost polycule, but not without the involvement of possession and Lian Xiang getting reincarnated into a human body.

The Ugly Fox - nameless, except for the fact that she was very ugly. Her story is also extremely catharthic. Essentially, she paid this Mu guy to sleep with her, his family got rich as a result, and he repaid her by employing an exorcist and drawing talismans on his mansion gate to keep her out.

She was rightfully pissed, demanded all her money back, beat up the exorcist, then unleashed a little sharp-toothed critter on Mu that bit off two of his toes, which finally forced him to give up the money.

At which point she took her money, left, remarried another peasant in the nearby village, and built her new family into a wealthy and powerful one.

Jiao Na - your typical human-fox love story, except the human, Kong, sacrificed just as much for the fox, stepping up to save her family from the divine thunderbolts and dying in the process.

(Here, the divine thunderbolts aren't of the "retribution" variety, sent only against foxes that engage in harmful cultivation. It is the more generic "peril" variety, something all yaoguais must survive because their cultivation is inherently against the natural order.)

She, in turn, resurrected him by delivering a red pill (implied to be her inner core) into his mouth via a kiss, and they lived happily ever after——even though Kong already had a wife, who was Jiao Na's cousin and also a fox.

...Like I said, there are so, so many more fox spirits in Liaozhai, and even though Pu Songling was still beholden to the standards of his times (thus the foxes often resigning themselves to wingman or concubine status), his fox girls still managed to be lively, unique characters.

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 006 ] that's for the breasts, sir.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of... interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. none? word count. 2.7k

　　　　　　　　chapter v // chapter vi // chapter vii

Before the four of you could finally commence the journey to the mall, you had to go through one small but very loud obstacle.

As soon as Yunho pulled off from the side of the road, a body flung itself across the front of his car. It seemed that Wooyoung booked it out of the house and locked the front door from the outside, which they apparently only had two keys to—one with Wooyoung and the other with Hongjoong.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the thud, but after realising what it was, couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as the others groaned. You looked to your right at the house, catching a glimpse of Mingi’s leg sticking out of the kitchen window in an attempt to escape and recapture Wooyoung.

“You’re gonna take me with you whether you like it or not!” His voice was muffled, but due to its natural volume, you could all hear him perfectly well. With a roll of his eyes, Yunho unlocked the car and Wooyoung all but pranced his way into the backseat, squeezing you in between him and Hongjoong.

“What if there’s a fire in the house? How are they gonna get out?” You asked jokingly.

Hongjoong piped up with an amused grin, “There’s a back door. I’m actually surprised they didn’t think of that yet.”

And with that, Yunho continued the journey to the mall, ignoring the way Seonghwa ran after the car for a couple of metres while cursing out Wooyoung until he gave up.

The ride there was also pretty short. It was a relatively popular mall that offered a variety of stores and a fucking amazing food court with all your favourite restaurants. As the five of you walked through the mall, Wooyoung had his arm linked with yours, leading all of you to the store that housed an assortment of technology ranging from phones to massage chairs to music equipment, which is exactly what they needed.

“While you guys do your thing here, I’m gonna go ahead and find something to wear.” You excused yourself politely and were surprised when Yunho tagged along—Wooyoung joining you was less of a surprise. But you didn’t complain, spending the last few weeks with him created a small soft spot in your heart.

After spending so much time with him and meeting all his friends, you came to the conclusion that you seriously misjudged them and told yourself you would make it up to them one day. When you brought it up to Wooyoung to apologise for being such a stubborn jerk at the start of the project, he merely waved you off and said something along the lines of “It doesn’t matter now anyway, we’re best friends forever! Unless you want to be more th-” and then you punched him in the arm.

As much as you wanted to deny it, Wooyoung, Seonghwa and that entire ensemble of frat boys were incredibly handsome. Without meaning to, you sometimes found yourself staring, tracing their silhouettes with your eyes and your fingers itching to whip out your sketchbook and draw their perfect proportions. San’s physique, for example, was so nice to look at it frustrated you sometimes, jealous of his lean figure and waist so tiny you could wrap a hair tie around it.

“I’d rather get to know you than watch Hongjoong-hyung spend an hour trying to find the perfect speakers or whatever it is he needs.” Yunho reasoned, falling into step on your left while Wooyoung took your right. It was then that you noticed how tall he actually was, having to quite literally crane your neck to smile at him understandingly.

“I heard you major in acting, is that what you wanna do in the future?” You asked, then immediately realised how stupid of a question that was. Your face scrunched up with embarrassment. “Sorry, that was a dumb question.”

But Yunho laughed, not at you but rather at how endearing you are. “No, no. Don’t worry. Yeah, that’s what I hope to do in the future. But… how do you know what I major in? I don’t recall meeting you, let alone telling you what I study.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, smiling at the way your eyes bulged from your skull at his insinuation.

“One of my friends also is an acting major!” You blurt, quickly explaining yourself. “You know, Kim Gahyun? I’ve heard you’re great at it.”

At his deep chuckle, you looked up at him, confused. But before you could question it, Woyooung pulled you into one of the stores abruptly.

“I love this place, you should get your stuff here!”

After observing your surroundings for a second, you realised what store you were in. Well, you didn’t realise the name of it, but rather the fact that everything would be very costly.

“I don’t know, Wooyoung…” you trailed off, stepping to the nearest clothing rack and checking the price tag of the first blouse you could get your hands on. You nearly choked at the number displayed on the pristine white tag, quickly and carefully placing it back on the rack. “Everything is too expensive and I don’t get paid enough to be able to afford more than a pair of socks here at most.”

Wooyoung and Yunho looked at each other, blinked, and then returned their gazes to you.

“I thought you were aware we were gonna pay for you.”

“Oh,” you looked between the two of them, “oh, no, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that for me.”

“You didn’t ask, we’re offering. And in this matter, we won’t take no for an answer so go ahead and explore, find things you like, try them on and then we’ll pay for you.” Yunho smiled warmly. “Consider it a gift.”

You narrowed your eyes at both of them. “What will I have to owe you?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Wooyoung sighed coming to your side and dragging you further into the store. You watched idly as he sifted his way through the clothing racks, occasionally pulling out a piece of clothing, observing it, and then putting it back. “A gift is a gift, you won’t have to owe us anything.”

“Fine,” you agree begrudgingly after two long minutes. “Where should I meet you when I’m done picking out my stuff?”

“I have to go find something to wear for our dance video, so we’ll leave you to yourself and when you’re ready just come find us,” Wooyoung said before pulling Yunho away with a smile, leaving you alone.

Browsing the racks, you realised everything seemed way too fancy to be worn to some frat party. On top of that, a lot of the things were form-fitting—a look you don’t usually go for unless it’s a really special occasion. Sighing you continued your search. The problem wasn’t the clothing, really. You felt bad about using their money. Yeah, they were rich and all, but you didn’t want to feel in debt to them.

After around five minutes of searching, you hear a soft voice next to you. It was a very pretty woman that seemed to be in her late twenties. She wore a very chic-looking black pencil dress with her hair in a sleek bun. Once she saw you notice the name tag on her chest, she offered you a friendly smile. “Hello, Ma’am. Is there any way I could help you?”

“Oh, uh,” you contemplated her offer. “Yes, actually. I need something to wear to a party. Nothing too fancy though.”

A smile overtook her features as she ushered you to follow her. Apparently, you were looking in the wrong section because she led you to a corner of the store that held things that would be more suitable; sparkly shirts and skimpy short dresses.

“Is there any style you prefer?”

You explained you’d prefer clothes that weren’t tight fits or too short. Once asking you if you had anything underneath your hoodie (a sports bra), she asked you to take off the thick material to get a better idea of your body shape. Despite hesitating for a moment, you peeled it off you and turned around slowly, letting her get a better view.

The woman—Hana, judging by her nametag—hummed and nodded. “You have some very nice curves, are you sure you wouldn’t want to show them off?”

“Well… I mean, I wouldn’t mind. But it’s just that I’d prefer comfort.” It’s true that you didn’t really mind your body, most of your weight residing in your hips and thighs. Sometimes you liked it, thinking the plump flesh gave you a softer look.

She regarded you for a moment before turning and pulling some things off the shelf. With enthusiasm, she presented some clothing items by laying them on the long bench in the middle of the section.

The first outfit she pieced together was a very short pleated black skirt accompanied by a black corset-like top. The next was made up of flared black pants and an oversized dress shirt.

Looking at them closely, you looked back at the assistant, who was watching you carefully. “What if I wear this,” you picked up the hanger with the unbuttoned dress shirt, “on top of this?” You tucked the corset top into the dress shirt and set it down on the bench, stepping back so she could take a look.

“Oh, that would work beautifully!” She smiled brightly, picking up all the items you chose as you put your hoodie back on. “You could wear a waist chain on top of the corset, it would accentuate your waist a bit more and look even more splendid. And if you’re uncomfortable you can always just button up the shirt.”

Hana led you to a smaller section of the store next to the dressing rooms, letting you go through the accessories and shoes. As you looked through the various pieces of jewellery, a hand brushed against your waist and you felt someone stand beside you. Looking to see who it was, you find Yunho, his eyes looking at the jewellery rather than you.

“Are you looking for a necklace?” He picked one from the turning display—a thin silver choker with a diamond that would rest right in between your shoulders and at the base of your neck. “I think this would be nice, no?”

“It’s very pretty.” You took it from his hands, fingers brushing against his much larger ones and inspecting it closely before you set it back on its hook. “But unfortunately, it’s not what I’m looking for. I need a waist chain.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. He stepped around you, looking at some of the longer chains. “Hongjoong-hyung probably has a better eye for jewellery, but I’m sure I can find something.”

“Speaking of, are they still in the other store?”

Yunho held up a thick golden rope chain, placing it back after you shook your head. “No, they’re helping Wooyoung choose his clothes. He’s very indecisive ad perfectionistic when it comes to anything related to dance, which I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

You did in fact notice that habit of his. He made you sit in the dance studio and watch him choreograph and practice, he said it was so you could get a better idea of what movements he would make ahead of time so you could already start thinking about the composition of the paintings. But you were perfectly aware he just wanted to show off to you, noticing how he would beam every time you applauded him.

However, you also noticed that if he got a move wrong, he’d beat himself up over it. Dancing it and trying to perfect it over and over and over again until he could execute it the way he wanted. Sometimes he would crumble to the ground and just lay there while you came and sat next to him, reassuring him he did great and forcing him to drink some water. You understood him completely, often feeling like that yourself. That you have to get everything right, make everything perfect just to be good at what you love to do.

There had been countless times when you scrapped your artworks. All because something felt off—the colours, the proportions, the harmony, a tiny mistake you couldn’t seem to get rid of. You understood him completely because you also knew what it was like to fail at your craft and feel like everything you worked so hard for was a waste of time.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” You nodded, a small frown on your lips and furrow in your eyes.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you before Yunho spoke again, a laugh resounding in his voice as he held up a series of multiple chains connected with each other. “Hey, what’s this for? How the hell would you put this on?”

He tried tying it around his waist on top of his hoodie but stopped once Hana cleared her throat.

“Sir, that’s– uh– that’s for the breasts, sir.”

“Oh.” He blanched, putting it back hastily, a light blush forming on his cheeks as you laughed. He narrowed his eyes at you. “A word of this to anyone and I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” You saluted him mockingly.

Eventually, you found something that matched your preferences—a dainty plain silver chain with a small heart clasp. Right next to it, you spotted a matching set of dangling earrings.

“Oh, look at this one! It’s so pretty!” As carefully as you could so as to not get anything tangled, you picked it off the shelf and showed it to Yunho and Hana with a bright smile on your face (Yunho nearly cooed at you).

“It’s perfect!” Hana nodded approvingly, readjusting your outfit in her gentle grip. “Are you ready to try everything on?”

“Yes, I think so– Wait.” You spun around and walked over to the selection of shoes, quickly choosing a pair of platformed Mary Janes. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

You followed Hana into the dressing rooms, Yunho going off to find the rest of the guys while you tried everything on. In the end, you were very happy with your choices. You didn’t mind that it seemed a bit fancy for a frat party, at least you looked spectacular. Besides, the oversized dress shirt added a bit of casualness to the outfit, so overall it seemed quite balanced out.

When you stepped out of the curtains of your cubical, Hana clapped and complimented you endlessly, especially when you took off the shirt and gave her a little spin with the skirt and corset top. Satisfied, you changed back into your sweatpants and hoodie and met the guys by the cashier with your outfit neatly folded in your arms.

“Ready?”

You nodded, placing your pile on the cashier’s counter next to Wooyoung’s pile. As you watched the lady scan each item and the price on the display going higher a higher, your face contorted with guilt and you looked away.

“Are you sure I can’t at least pay some of it?”

“Y/N.” Hongjoong grabbed your attention with a firm but somehow still gentle tone. “We’re part of the richest families in South Korea, I don’t want to make you feel bad about yourself or your financial status or anything, but this is barely even putting a dent in our bank accounts.”

Mouth agape, you blinked at him, looking at each of the men individually before you settled your eyes on Wooyoung, narrowing them ever so slightly and opening your mouth to speak. But before you could ask, he answered, knowing exactly what you were about to say.

“For the last time, we’re not part of the mafia.”

Jongho, who found this a lot more amusing than his hyungs, let out a series of bubbly laughs, his lips stretching into a smile and showing off his perfect gums and his shoulder pulling up and shaking as he laughed. Despite seeing him so often, you’ve never seen him display so much happiness (except for the time your bookstore was selling signed copies of one of his favourite books and he caught you giving him a small discount because you saw how excited he was) and it warmed you inside.

“Okay, if you guys say so…” you trailed off, cutting your fond gaze on Jongho off and you accepted the stylish white paper bag with your clothing from Hana.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] and here it is!! i love reading and writing shopping scenes in fics so much omg. but anyway, next chapter we'll be getting the party!! and happy pride month everyone! my birthday is coming up soon and i'm gonna be travelling, so i'll most likely miss the update after the next one, please don't worry i'll be right on track as soon as i get back :)

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @moonsangie @kiss-hwa @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @kitty4hwa @hyukssunflower @aestheticsluut @neohyxn @mrowwww @darkdayelixer @itsokaytobedumb00 @hwa-sans @purplelady85 @meginthebuilding27 @stopeatread @mothworked @foliea @euphoric-emily16 @teezers99 @mulletjoonsupremacy @imalildelulu @sunukissed @blehhhidk @ad0rechuu @d1am0ndw0lfxd @strawberry-moonpies @bluehwale-main @stupefystudies @yandere-stories @seongwin @huachengsbestie01 @seongwin @galaxypox @moonminji @lilactangerine ​​@asjkdk @honey-lemon-goose @stayteezdreams @diorwoo @yunho0o0o0o @majestickitty @shookykookie30 @kyukyustar @seongfury @lightinyinthedark @skz-enthusiasttt @legohwas @0325tiny @seongua @90s-belladonna @swiftschuyler

　　NEVER SAY NEVER　©　seonghwaddict, 2023

[marigold-hills]

june 3: library | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 599 PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

They’ve used the map for a very many purposes, some nefarious, some less so, but never usually like this: to stalk one of their own.

Not stalk, Sirius reasons, with himself, because such distinctions are important. Search for. Keep track of. In a friendly, concerned manner.

Because it’s 2am, and Remus isn’t in bed, and he came out of the Potions exam looking pale and a bit defeated in his Moony way: withdrawn, shoulders narrowed, crease between eyebrows. And so, so tired.

Sirius finds the tiny set of footprints with Remus Lupin attached to them in a corner of the library. Not surprising, to find their Moony there, but the library closed at the reasonable hour of 7pm and as much as Remus was being a bit obsessive over studying, he didn’t usually go as far as breaking and entering.

So Sirius is concerned. Sue him.

James and Peter both fast asleep (and how could they be, when one of their own was missing!), Sirius pilfers the Cloak and makes his way through the castle.

The library smells like a part of Remus, an integral inch of him – books and parchment and ink, dust with magic interwoven into its particles. Moonlight falls through the tall windows, the only light, except…

There, in the alcove Remus favours, a single lit oil lamp casts a soft orange glow. Remus is always the comfort of autumn but doubly so now, lit up like this, his curls golden and the light touching him like rays of a sunset and Sirius feels it, this want, this urge he can’t name that makes him want to bite or to tattoo stages of the moon against his sternum. Remus deserves good things only – care and gentle affection – and Sirius fears this thing that sometimes overcomes him, how it wants to break Remus just to hide inside of his marrow.

Remus must hear his footsteps because he turns towards Sirius, profile in a sharp contrast of shadows and light, and Sirius thinks oh, thinks I don’t understand.

“What are you doing here, Pads?”

“How did you know it was me?” Sirius wanders, removing the Cloak.

“I’d recognise your smell anywhere.”

“I smell?”

“No, you dumb thing,” exasperation and fondness, “comes with the territory. My little secret, of the furry variety. Remember?”

Right, if course. The moon is looming, soon to be full. It accounts for some of the renewed darkness underneath Remus’ eyes. Sirius hasn’t seen the full moon with his human eyes in a long time, but he remembers it was beautiful. He remembers the shadows on its face, craters left over by something ancient and savage, and his Moony – their, their Moony – is like that too, shadows on brightness and scars as memories of pain.

“Why aren’t you in bed, Moons?”

A shrug, a nonchalance. “Fell asleep revising. Figured I might as well keep going instead of trying to cross the castle back without any of our helping aides.”

Sirius reaches out. It’s not unusual. He’s. Touchy friend. But he presses the pads of his fingers into the divot underneath Remus’ left eye, soft and slow, and it’s not like any touch he remembers ever giving.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he says, or maybe he doesn’t because the words are a swallow and a stone and they don’t cross the distance between their eyes, locked onto each other.

(Sirius thinks there’s something here I should pay attention to. Important. Open your eyes.)

“Guess you can be right sometimes after all, Pads. Come on then, take me to bed.”

(And he thinks: oh.)

NOTES:

this is part tree of a 30-part series of shorts: I’m aiming for them all to be readable as standalone but are a part of a bigger story (better read together and in order, in my opinion) if it doesn’t make much sense by itself do let me know, I want to give this a good go :)

i wish we saw more of the library in the movies. I mean, a magical library? Amazing.

@bowielover420 @tealeavesandtrash @digital-kam @moon-girl88

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)

[m-oddinsdottir]

🍒☀️💋.

HERS

Venetia Catton x fem!reader

Summary: another normal summer at Saltburn, however, this time the secret can’t be kept anymore.

Warning(s): oliver quick

Note: I just can’t believe no one has made a Venetia one shot yet

A message appeared on the screen of your phone, the blue light that radiated from it brightened up the frown in your face as your lips pressed together in a thin line. «Don’t get mad, love. But this Ollie you told me about, he’s here.» You couldn’t help but scoff, so, in the end, Felix did invite him regardless of yours and Farleigh’s complaints.

One of your hands passed through your eyes for a second trying to cover your sight from the bothering light. Then, you texted a quick response. «Fucking Felix. I’m almost there.»

You weren’t the best of friends with Oliver, at first, you tried to be nice, you were keen on making new friends and adding more variety into your group. However, there was something off about him; sometimes, you had caught him staring at you through the distance which wouldn’t be weird if he didn’t have that oddness in his eyes, that creepiness, that… You couldn’t even describe it.

So, of course, you told Venetia who reassured you saying that it was probably you being paranoid. Which would be coherent due to your tendency of freaking out in the most insignificant situations. If it weren’t for Farleigh, who thought exactly the same, maybe not for the creepy part but he also knew he didn’t particularly enjoy Oliver Quick’s presence.

Felix, on the other hand, seemed to have become so close to him in only a few months. It wasn’t a secret that Felix attracted people, not only due to his appearance but also because of his personality. He was extroverted, had a great sense of humor and on top of that he was kind, maybe too much sometimes. This last trait was the reason why he had invited Oliver “Er… It’s just that his father has died” You remember him explaining to you why it wouldn’t be just you four that summer which sounded like pity.

Venetia usually invited you to spend each summer vacation in the manor as you couldn’t visit your family because of them living too far away. You just couldn’t afford the trip. But of course that wasn’t the only reason why, the box dyed blonde and you had been dating for almost two years now. It all started when Felix invited you to a party in Saltburn where you met his parents and, specially, where you met his sister. It was an instant connection, you remember being in one of Saltburn’s multiple balconies when she appeared, her long gown shining under the moonlight and the cigarette hanging from her lips “And you are…?” She had asked uninterested “I can think about a tone of adjectives but I will let you discover them for yourself” Then, you told her your name and the rest was history.

Despite this, nobody knew. Not your friends in college, neither Elspeth nor Sir James. The only ones that knew were Far and Felix, however it was hard not to when you two were all over each other during the summer.

But now, with Oliver also there… He couldn’t know, if he did everyone would also do and Venetia and you were just not ready for it. More you than Venetia, after all you didn’t want everyone to think that you were with her just for her family’s money. Everyone would have thought that as you had never told anyone you were also interested in girls neither have you ever shown it as your whole dating history was filled with guys. To be honest, you didn’t even know it yourself until you met her.

Soon, you arrived at Saltburn. A soft smile was placed in your lips trying to act as if there was nothing wrong by the time you entered the place. Duncan, the butler, welcomed you with his usual seriousness and your smile grew due to the sight of a familiar face.

"You know we will carry your luggage, my lady. There’s no need to carry them yourself.” He said while a few other workers grabbed the bags from your hands.

“And as always you know I don’t like to be a burden.”

Duncan shook his head, a complicity look in his eyes. “A guest like you would never be.”

A laugh escaped from your chest and then you rolled your eyes playfully. “Lord, that’s for sure.”

Duncan waited for your luggages to be carried away before speaking again. “Let me escort you to the dining room, the Catton’s are having lunch.”

You raised an eyebrow as you started to walk with the main butler. “Just the Cattons?”

“I’m afraid not.” He answered so a sight was forced to leave your lips.

With the company of Duncan, you entered the dining room finding there the whole family… and Oliver. You restrained from rolling your eyes.

“Darling! You’re finally here.” Elspeth stood up to greet you, she hugged you and then held your cheeks with affection “How can it be that you get prettier every summer?”

“It’s just you Elspeth who sees me with loving eyes. And I should ask the same for you!” The blonde smiled as a response to the compliment before stepping away from you. “Oh, darling” The oldest woman laughed as you approached the rest of the family members.

Sir James welcomed you with a big smile in his face as you gently squeezed his shoulder. Then you walked towards Farleigh, hugging him from behind as you surrounded his shoulders with your arms placing a kiss in his cheek. “Finally, you’re here. I couldn’t bare it any longer” He murmured so you laughed “Don’t worry, we will team up”

Then you approached Felix and your fingers gently brushed through his long hair under the eyes of Oliver. Felix looked up with a pout in his lips. “I’m sorry. I recall what you said but…” He said in a sight before you interrupted him “There’s no need to, it will still be a great summer. I’m sure.”

Lastly, you eagerly walked towards Venetia who was waiting with a tempting smile on her dark lips. Her big eyes travelled through your body up and down as you tried to cover the excitement held in your body to finally have her in your arms.

You hugged her from behind, burying your face in the hollow of her neck. Breathing in her scent, your lips pressed a soft kiss in her pale skin being covered from her parent’s eyes thanks to her long hair. “I missed you” You just whispered before stepping away from her.

“I missed you too” She whispered back.

The moment lingered for a few seconds in time as you looked into each other’s eyes, despite this it was soon broken apart by another voice. A new voice, a voice that didn’t belong there.

“That was it? I was expecting something more… enthusiastic.” Oliver’s voice, of course it was him talking. You stood up, stepping away from Venetia as your eyes locked into his’.

“What do you mean Ollie?” A fake smile was placed on your lips as you turned around slowly to look at Felix, scared that he could have told him something but he looked as confused as you.

“Well, darling, if I haven’t seen someone so dear to me in such a time I would be more…” He spoke with innocence in his voice making a frown appear in your face “I don’t think you have a say in how I greet this family”

Oliver smiled while tilting his head, he had a confused expression as he looked around facing the reactions of the other members. “Not this family but your girlfriend…”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. How could he know? You looked at Felix dead in the eyes, maybe he had told him while being drunk. That was the only reasonable explanation, Farleigh couldn’t have told him anything and it was shown in the way he stood up, hands clenching and unclenching under the table “What the hell Ollie?!” Felix spoke more loudly than the tone he would usually speak in.

The room suddenly stopped before spinning around, you heard Elspeth call your name but you couldn’t hear any of the words that slipped from her lips. Venetia looked at you, she was worried, you could sense it but you were unable to speak or even move.

“What? I… I thought everyone knew” Oliver looked confused and you heard Farleigh’s voice filled with anger afterwards “Clearly not everyone did! But how do you…?” His question was soon answered by the boy “I was in the bathroom when Felix was talking to you about it… I just overheard it but it’s not a big deal, right?”

Once again, you looked at Felix whose eyes darted around the room in a mixture of confusion and worry. Then, you stormed out of that place leaving behind the voice of Elspeth calling your name and a fast trace of footsteps following you.

You walked towards the room you were usually assigned before someone stopped you grabbing your wrist and making you turn around. Encountering Venetia’s eyes, a shaky sight left your lips by the same time your hands began to shake. “I didn’t… I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Venetia smiled as she placed a rebel strand of hair behind your ear, her hand cupping your face as you moved yourself closer to her trying to calm down. You wrapped your arms around her waist, moving your head from her hands to hide it in her neck.

“Love… It’s alright. My parents they won’t be mad, I’m sure they even suspected it.” At a slowly pace, her fingers traveled through your back in a known pattern that made you sigh again. “I… It’s just, fucking Ollie”

“Yeah” She laughed softly stepping away slightly to look into your eyes “Fucking Ollie”

Venetia caught a glimpse of your lips before meeting them in the halfway of the path towards your room and also your heart. Each time you were with her, every single caress, every hug, every kiss, it just contributed to her sticking into you even deeper. Your foreheads pressed together after the kiss, making your even breathing mix with hers and for a moment you were unable to open your eyes. You just wanted to stay in her arms forever.

sorry if there’s any grammatical mistake or similars, I haven’t written in english for such a long time lol

pt. 2??

[youphoriaot7]

The chaos of newcomers is never something Fit exactly...anticipates. In fact, he doesn't really like it all that much—not because he's anti-social, but because it just means yet another innocent being trapped on this island of hell with no way out, and frankly, he isn't quite sure they should be celebrating that.

That being said, he's not just going to let some newbie die because they couldn't find their way out of a stone tower.

Which is how he finds himself leaning against the doorframe in the loud room, watching people buzzing back and forth with excitement. He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at their chaos even as he steps back. Bad, Niki, and Cellbit are attempting to brute force the locked door—but that'll take at least ten minutes. He has time to burn.

His eyes scan across the room, unconsciously seeking out a familiar figure. He finds it right where he expected it: curled up on a couch, away from the crowds.

...there's an open seat nearby...so why not?

He sinks onto the seat next to Pac. The other man's drooping eyelids snap open as his weight is shifted, and Fit throws him a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you."

But Pac just smiles and shakes his head, sitting upright. "You didn't." It seems as though he wants to say something else, but whatever it is, he swallows the words. Instead, he simply stares down at his hands, fiddling with the cuffs of his hoodie, tugging his hands in and out of the sleeves.

Fit breaks the silence. "...how you doin'?" It's an innocent enough question, if they didn't both know what the scientist had been through. Sure enough, Pac sneaks a glance up at him, giving him a half-hearted shrug in reply.

"...I'm, um...well. I'm really tired," he murmurs, offering up a weak smile. Fit nods in understanding. The past week and a half had been exhausting enough for him, what with Ramon's disappearance and the impending stress of his mission—he can only imagine what Pac's been going through in the past day, much less the past week.

He'll admit it—he's worried about the younger man. Isn't everyone? It's no different than Bad or Phil's worry for Forever, or Cellbit's concern for his friends. Pac is just coming down off of a serious drug. Being tired is normal, right? Fit still isn't sure how he managed to find an antidote, either, or why it was necessary to take the drug in order to find one.

He tries not to worry about it—Pac would tell him if something was seriously wrong. Or not—it was his business, not Fit's. Just like his scientific process. Yeah. It was up to Pac to decide whether or not he wanted to share that information! Never mind the fact that Fit's thoughts were running a mile a minute with theories he did not want to even consider.

Besides, he knew a thing or two about keeping secrets himself. There were some things you simply couldn't tell people, for a variety of reasons: either it put them at risk, or put you at risk, or—

Oh.

He tries not to stiffen at the sudden weight on his shoulder, instead glancing to the side, where Pac's forehead now rests against his plate of armor. The scientist's eyes are closed, lashes sweeping the sunken bags under his eyes. The arms of his hoodie are curled carefully around Fit's prosthetic, gently holding him in place.

...oh.

He takes a careful breath, afraid to move too much for fear of waking the other man. After a few moments of hesitation, he decides to take the plunge: he adjusts his shoulder back a bit, moving the armor out of the way so that Pac's head falls to his true shoulder. Silently, his other hand finds purchase in the folds of Pac's hoodie, resting gently against his arm.

...the door is going to take a minute. They have time to rest.

It seems all too soon that there are cries of triumph from the other room. Pac's head jerks up off his shoulder at the excitement, blinking blearily in the dim light of the tower. Fit freezes, unsure of what to do. Should he play dumb? Act like nothing had happened? Let Pac take the lead?

The other man glances down, realization dawning on his face. Slowly, he untangles one of his arms, sitting up against the sofa back. (Fit misses his warmth already.) "...I guess I must've dozed off." Pac laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away.

Even while avoiding Pac's gaze, Fit can see the deep crimson blushing up the younger man's neck. He shrugs. "Well, that's good. You probably needed the rest."

He tries to play it off. Tries to ignore the way his heart is still hammering in his chest. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, why the hell is he acting like some schoolboy?

To his credit, Pac doesn't seem to be doing much better. "Y-yeah," he stammers out, grinning. "Probably." The dark rings under his eyes only compound that fact—has he been sleeping at all?

They sit for a moment, just staring at each other—until Foolish leans over the back of the couch opposite them, starting up some uproarious discussion about glue and vault mechanics and things beyond Fit's comprehension, and Pac is distracted once more.

But Fit can't help but notice that his arm still lays across the sleeve of Pac's hoodie, the other man's fingers still curled around his prosthetic.

He doesn't say a word.

[ladyluscinia]

Izzy Hands Is Manipulative, But Not That Way

...or I finally finish that long ass meta post about why I love the fucking Navy Plot lol

The Izzy manipulation debate has been really interesting to me pretty much since it started, because I'd see a post arguing he's manipulating Edward and go "No, and he couldn't if he tried" and then the next post would say he sucks at manipulation because he's a blunt fucking instrument and I'd go "Yea- wait. Hmm. No, he can be targeted and tricky as fuck." Which does, on its surface, seem like a contradictory stance, but I swear it works.

Because the thing with Izzy - and this is such a fun thing imo - is there are two core types of manipulation that characters engage in, and Izzy fucking sucks at the one you expect his style of antagonist to focus on. But he's scarily good at the other.

Long meta under the cut, so get comfy.

...

From his role under Edward to the protagonist vs antagonist dynamic setup to his introduction scenes, Izzy is very much invoking the conniving second in command. We know this character from other media. He doesn't have the full power he wants so he's constantly scheming to get it. He can't or won't challenge his boss for some reason, so he settles for being the devil on their shoulder or working behind their back. He's the voice constantly ready to inflame insecurities and turn relationship cracks into chasms, and usually he's lying constantly to do so. His fingerprints are all over his boss's problems up to the moment they show some weakness, and then their loyal second goes right for the backstab. He is THE ambitious manipulator. The shady advisor. The snake.

And then you actually look at Izzy and he is not that guy. In fact, it's a testament to the strength of Edward's character arc how much his evil little henchman is not causing his problems.

So - Izzy and manipulation:

Izzy Can't Convince People To Do Things

Like. He really can't.

This interpersonal struggle is fairly fundamental to his character. And moreover, it's a skill that Izzy is intensely aware that he lacks, so usually he doesn't even try.

In his first episode he walks right up to Buttons and just straight up asks him for the information on his party. He doesn't even resolve to steal the hostages until he realizes that Stede has lost them in the bush already, and Izzy obtains them by buying them. When Stede confronts him they end up splitting the pair in a very above-board negotiation and he pretty much just goes with what Stede suggests.

Then in 1x03, people make a big deal of Izzy "manipulating" Edward by not clarifying that Stede didn't know who he was when he turned down the invite, but kind of importantly he repeats the damning line of the conversation faithfully. If he was going to lie, then why not lie? Why even go see Stede at all? And, if he didn't want Stede dead until after the conversation (understandable, tbh, since "Iggy" was stab-worthy), surely he could invent a better insult to rile Edward up. It makes his omission hit more like being bitchy about Stede not recognizing the obvious - namely that Izzy Hands works for Blackbeard and literally everyone knows this - than a slander campaign to get him killed. And once we properly meet Izzy and Edward in 1x04, Izzy's inability to manipulate becomes his main struggle.

Izzy's a blunt and direct person. He leans on authority bestowed by Blackbeard to take control of situations, playing the role he's supposed to play, and without it he lacks a Plan B. In 1x04 he doesn't have any authority over Edward, so his efforts to get him to take the danger of the Spanish seriously amount to "Well as bored as you might be, if you don't make a decision soon we're gonna fucking die." And this is true! There might be a very subconscious attempt at manipulation in his resignation speech before the "That's Blackbeard. I'm Stede, remember?" line - of the piss him off to get him to get his shit together variety - but Edward literally makes a joke out of it so not exactly effective.

And once Edward stops giving Izzy authority in general, his plan to make Lucius do stuff is still just... brute force. Which works at first when Lucius doesn't realize that Izzy's on his own now, and stops working as soon as Fang breaks ranks. His last ditch blackmail attempt isn't manipulative either - he just plans to tell the truth to Pete and assumes he'll be pissed about it. My guy loses a fight over the pirate equivalent of making an uppity employee clean the coffee maker while the boss is out. Not only does he fail to manipulate the crew in a conniving antagonist way... he doesn't even try.

I mean, the only time he (somewhat) succeeds in talking someone into things is 1x06. Getting Edward to agree to killing Stede isn't really manipulation - Izzy gets Fang and Ivan to back him in a very straightforward way because they all actually do have a stake in this - but he's passably able to push Stede to go through with the fuckery via fake compliments. It's not exactly high level work, though. Stede being vulnerable to ego-stroking / dares is pretty obvious.

So what is Izzy good at?

Well, if you can't make people do anything other than what they were going to do in the first place, you might as well lean into that.

...

Izzy Manipulates Situations, Not People

Situational manipulation is one of those fictional tropes that rarely can happen in real life, but there's not much resemblance because real life rarely gives you all the building blocks for a proper gambit and lets you loose. Too many factors. In narratives, though? It becomes one of my favorite ways of having a character be clever.

And before I get into this too much, a really fun sidenote - I think Izzy does situational manipulation more like the way protagonists do it. See, antagonists are usually emotionally and situationally manipulative (ex: provoking the hero to lash out and using it to frame them for a bigger crime), but it's not a good look when your hero drives the target to do something bad and then punishes them for it. So heroes lean on stuff like Batman Gambits - where the lynchpin of the scheme is the target fucking themselves over by behaving completely in character. They've written Izzy so ineffective at emotional manipulation that he pretty much has to rely on other characters' flaws or histories to cause problems, which has a very similar result. And it's wild.

...

Going back to the 1x03 confrontation in Jackie's bar, Izzy doesn't really do anything abnormal in how he conducts himself, but people are picking up on an agenda for a reason. Namely, the whole damn conversation quickly turns into a trap, and Izzy fully sits back and watches Stede spring it from sheer idiocy.

There's no indication that when Izzy walked up he wasn't going to carry out his task with all the bitchy professionalism expected of him, while probably hoping that Stede would eventually stick his foot in his mouth without Izzy's help (assuming he's the kind of idiot Izzy thinks he is). His first section of this conversation is nearly polite:

Izzy (about the Nose Jar): "I have a few colleagues in there." Stede: "Ugh. You again." Geraldo: "Mr. Hands, welcome. It's been a while." Izzy: "(To Geraldo) Yeah, because I hate this fucking place. (To Stede) But for some inexplicable reason, my boss would like a word with you. Bonnet."

It's not until Stede starts talking that I think Izzy clues in that Stede doesn't actually know who his boss is. He didn't introduce himself until the literal last second of their 1x02 interaction, so it wasn't obvious Stede wasn't literally bolting into the forest in horrified realization.

And Stede? He goes hard on being a bitch right out the gate. Brushes Izzy off, tells him to "get in line", calls him the wrong name, says he doesn't care who Izzy is...

Izzy so far has met Stede in a public place, in front of people who clearly treat Izzy with respect and fear. He doesn't bring up their previous interaction, Stede does. He doesn't even goad Stede beyond existing. He corrects him on his name, and watches it not register in the slightest. The next line is the clincher:

Izzy (slightly incredulous): "So I'll tell my Captain that you're declining then, yeah?"

As Izzy is speaking the conversation becomes a trap - he chooses a reasonable way to refer to Edward that isn't "Blackbeard" and waits to see if Stede will make this worse. The jump from "no I'm busy" to "tell him he has terrible taste in flunkies and he can go suck eggs in Hell" is all Stede, completely ignoring context clues as Geraldo stares on in horror. Hell, Jackie only refrains from later de-nosing Stede on the spot because Geraldo knows what's up, and Stede still doesn't pick up on the fact he should maybe be asking some questions (though I'll give him the knife was distracting).

Izzy returns to the ship, quotes Stede directly for his damning line, and waits to see what Edward will do with it. It's not good behavior on his part (and if he could have seen the future he might have tried worse), but switching mid-conversation to offering Stede an opportunity to fuck himself over is a very different mindset than simply lying to / provoking Stede or Edward to get what he wants. He's mostly being petty.

Stede did insult Edward of his own volition, after all, and just because Izzy fudges the truth to hide he didn't know he was insulting Blackbeard instead of just Izzy and a random stranger doesn't change that. All Izzy did to "escalate" that conversation was give Stede a second opening to do so himself.

But there is a far better example of Izzy masterfully manipulating a situation than this in-the-moment bit of pettiness, so let's move onto my favorite bit... explaining in extensive and slightly awestruck detail why the Navy plot. Fucking. Rules. Because it does. Ready?

...

How to Mastermind the Decisive Removal of One Stupid Fucking Stede Bonnet Over Drinks

Ahem. The Navy plot. Masterclass in intimate betrayal. Izzy's biggest escalation in the total collapse of Edward and Izzy's relationship, but also a completely fucking fascinating glimpse into whatever tangled web of codependency they've got going on, because Edward isn't even mad after 1x09. This wordcount is going to be insane enough without me getting into the Blackhands relationship connotations, so I will... attempt... to stick to breaking down the actual scheme.

And what a scheme it was.

Let's start at the beginning. Jack showing up to lure them into the trap at the start of 1x08? Nope, earlier. Izzy getting kicked off the ship and going to Jackie at the end of 1x06? Further back. Edward proposing the "kill Stede" plan at the end of 1x04, which is the domino that starts all this, right? Closer, but still no.

Izzy's first appearance on screen is in episode 1x02, and that episode is where the seeds of the Navy plot are first planted. See, during Stede's confrontation with Izzy, both of the hostages chime in:

Hostage 1 (Wellington): "Believe him, he's quite insane." Hostage 2 (Hornberry): "He does have the eyes of a madman. Sorry, you do."

Wellington says his line in a tone of voice that clearly indicates a story to tell, and it should also be noted that he is the same one who earlier jumped at the chance to tell the tribe chief about Stede murdering their captain - Nigel. And he's the one that Izzy leaves with, in a sour mood and wanting information about this "Stede Bonnet" character.

When Izzy later reaches out to the Navy, it's no coincidence that he finds Chauncey. He's known since right after their first meeting that Stede was directly responsible for the murder of an Admiral's brother and that the English Navy would know soon enough, since he was literally about to ransom a hostage back to them who would tell the story. And he filed that information away until it was useful or relevant like a clever pirate should.

Moving on to Jackie's bar in 1x03, Izzy gets more potentially useful observations / inspiration. Jackie is actually the first person in the series to make a deal with a naval power. Izzy and crew track the Revenge to the Spanish warship, which means they must see Geraldo sold out Stede to them. Izzy isn't stupid. He knows Geraldo and Spanish Jackie, knows that she's the brains and brawn behind this deal, and has seen enough of Stede that he'd absolutely believe that he did something to get Jackie pissed enough to plot his murder. File away Jackie wants Stede dead and details of how she nearly succeeded in offing him for later.

Izzy spends 1x05 up to the fuckery demonstration observing Stede's crew while waiting for Edward to pull the trigger. I definitely want to note the scene where they interrogate the Frenchman at the beginning of 1x05, because Izzy is staring directly at Stede as he leans away from Edward threatening violence (we know this will later be in his love montage so not actually a turn off, lol, but like... it looked like one). His opinion of the crew is that they like to fuck around without structure (1x05 during the party), probably that they enjoy more standard pirate levels of violence (not shown directly since they are kept out of the 1x05 raid, but fairly obvious), and that they are really easily awestruck by the chance to hear "real pirates" tell charismatic stories (1x06 ghost story).

Any of that sounding like someone we know?

And now to go back to Izzy in 1x06, when he gets sick of Edward being cagey about the plan to kill Stede and decides to "make" him stop stalling, he's straightforward again. Getting Ivan and Fang to back him isn't emotionally manipulative, but it does give him weight in the conversation. They are the ones who bring up the whole "love of a pet makes a man weak" thing, and they do it in the context of calling out hypocrisy. Izzy knows the standards Edward holds his crew to. He lets them convince Edward it's time.

Taking the chance to suggest Stede try a fuckery is a strong blend of situational and emotional manipulation, and later challenging him to a formal duel knowing he'd be overconfident enough to accept is more situational again. Even the terms of the duel are designed to take advantage of the situation. And then Izzy loses in the most comedy way possible, Edward lets him get banished, and Izzy decides that if he was ok with just sending Stede Bonnet on his way to fuck-off before... he's fucking gonna kill him now.

My guy is not a creative thinker, but he's definitely a logistical one. And as he rows away from that ship, all the pieces fall into place.

First, Spanish Jackie. Who listens to him bemoan his relationship woes because she likes him (Izzy gets Jackie in the divorce). Who wants Stede dead and has the clout to summon and deal with a distasteful ally - Chauncey. Together, they concoct an arrangement where a trap will be set and Chauncey gets Stede and only Stede. This isn't a tip-off or a free-for-all. Stede comes from Chauncey's world and they are sending him back. Permanently.

Then it's time for the trap itself, which needs to do two things: get the Revenge somewhere that Chauncey can corner it, and get Edward out of there. And Izzy? Izzy knows Edward. Knows there's one particular person in his past that will have no trouble integrating with the crew, getting Edward to act more like a pirate than a gentleman, and who happens to have a great ambush location on hand.

I've said this before but I'm gonna say it again - I don't think outside characters realize how hard and fast Edward is falling for Stede. The BlackBonnet bonding moments happen almost exclusively when they are alone. The place Izzy dramatically fails to manipulate the situation is not having the evidence he would need to predict Edward going back for Stede. He (and Jack) both think that a precise wedge between BlackBonnet - one that Jack delivers near flawlessly by playing into real issues - will be enough to remind Edward that Stede isn't his people. This isn't a plan to murder the love of Edward's life while his back is turned. It's a plan to get rid of Stede, and remind Edward why he was on board with doing that in the first place. "That's fair," Izzy says about a punch to the face.

Instead, Izzy's plot accidentally backs Edward into a corner and forces him to publicly pull a grand-gesture relationship level-up that he was not emotionally ready for, and the fallout from that explosion is way worse than any of our conspirators were counting on.

Still... you gotta admit. It was a really good plan.