#to the one person on remorse who asked for a pt. 2: no

[m1d-45]

small miracles

summary: washed up on the sands of ritou, inazuma’s famous helper lends you a hand.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: n/a, just standard imposter au things. you are on the run, technically. very minor gore i guess(like veeeery tiny)

-> lowercase intended!

< masterlist > || second part >>

dirt collapses beneath your feet, your torn shoes skidding on the edge of the cliff north of liyue harbor. you can hear the waves lap at the rock thousands of feet below you, layered under the huffs of the people in front of you.

steel blades shine in the hot sun, the millelith wielding them just as fierce. you can see the hatred in their eyes, the need for your end, whether by the spears in their hand or the waters behind you. the only reason they haven’t struck is because of the woman behind the ring of them.

a dark oak pipe balances on the tip of ningguang’s finger, her eyes as sharp as their ruby hue. she lets it tip to one side, her head following the tilt, before she spins it back into her palm. every action is defined with grace, not so much as a hair out of place. every golden ornament shows off her prestige, her power, how without even lifting a finger she has you pinned in place against a cliff.

perhaps if you weren’t at risk of dying, you might feel different about it.

one of the millelith asks if they’re allowed to strike. the red tassel on her forehead swings as she shakes her head.

“no. this fake is not worth liyuen metal.” ningguang tucks the pipe away in a smooth motion, crossing one arm over her chest to rest the opposite elbow on it. a clawed finger swipes an invisible hair back into place on her bangs. “send them to the sea. their bones will serve as an excellent toothpick for osial.“

well, that was a horrific visual.

in an instant, the millelith spin their spears around, careful to keep the blades away from themselves and each other to jab to dull ends at you. behind them, ningguang barely looks fazed, examining a geo crystal in her hand. you know the nonchalance is manufactured, a subdued silence, but that doesn’t make it any better. she doesn’t care that she’s sending you to your death. she knows it, wants it, and what would the millelith be if they couldn’t remove one person from the tianquan’s presence?

your left foot is standing half on air. the part that is on ground is shaky, uncertain, dirt nowhere near as stable as stone.

you risk a look at ningguang.

ruby eyes are the last thing you see before you fall.

you wake up on a beach, sandy and exhausted. invisible wounds bleed harder as sand gets into them as you sit up to look around. your clothes are hard with saltwater, and it’s a miracle you made it here alive. though teyvat has been kind, fruit and clean water always within reach, you didn’t think that you would live long enough to hit land.

you stand—nearly falling—and shake out as much sand as you can, looking around. across the sea is a small island, within swimming range, but youre not inclined to explore when your limbs still feel so heavy. to your right, the beach narrows off, overtaken by the cliff behind you, but it seems to open up more to the left.

you decide to stumble that way, passing a spike of driftwood, and stop just as quickly.

you can see green roofs of houses, spires and what is maybe a watchtower in the distance, the architecture familiar. red and orange trees are interspersed between them, and your hopes fall.

you’d hoped you were in the stone forest. you’d hoped that you’d have a chance, knowing the abundance of hilichurls on the small islands, but now you’re…

you start walking, hoping to find some clues to prove your hunch wrong.

you see an okay looking boat, but youre preoccupied by the path branching to the left. wooden boards seem to make a walkway, and you step over them on your way inside. theres a small tent, a lantern, a block of supplies and a cooking pot. in the tent is a bed fashioned of hay, but embers light up the wood beneath the pot.

it would be a cozy enough place to stay, but you can’t risk whoever owns it coming back.

you head back the way you came and continue towards the city. the sand slides beneath your ragged shoes, but theres flowers following the breeze in the grass near the cliff. purple and a soft blue, they distract you long enough that a guard walks to their post further down the beach.

oh.

oh no.

you recognize the uniform, and the logo of the tenryou commission embossed on the armor. if inazuma is the same as any other nation—likely worse, considering the way its run—you need to avoid those guards at any cost.

you look to the cliffside. its steep, too steep to climb when youre still soaked from the sea.

you sigh, and decide to find another way up.

youre not quite sure how none of the guards saw you, but under the dwindling light of dusk, you manage to make to the southern(?) outskirts of what appears to be ritou.

…not that that means anything. you still don’t know how to get off the island, and trying to forcibly get deported will only result in an arrest. though there’s a food cart that most certainly can see you, the worker didn’t report you to the guards when they passed. you don’t remember her name, but know she sells some kind of food. maybe a fish dish? or was it egg? not that it matters, food is food, and if you’re lucky you’ll have enough mora for some.

you sit against a wall, checking your pockets. most of your stuff was either stolen or lost to sea, but your mora was still securely tied to your waist. after checking twice that you were out of people’s line of sight, you started to count, stacking the coins in piles of 10 on the grass in front of you. after a hundred, you moved them into one bigger pile.

you had more than you expected. though your pouch always seemed to weigh about the same, you didn’t think you could fit almost three thousand mora inside- or that you even had that. then again, chests typically had a few hundred, and you’d been pretty lucky in mondstat…

you set aside five hundred and hope it’s enough, but knowing teyvat’s economy… if salt was 60 mora, who knew how much you’d need?

whatever the case, you needed to eat. cradling the coins against you as you attach your pouch back at your waist, the go to move for the food stall.

your plans are dashed the second you stand.

a familiar face walked up the path towards the food stall, but quickly diverted towards you.

shit.

you step away, behind a tree, hoping against hope that he’d only seen somebody next to you instead of-

“hello there!”

you jump at how quickly thomas voice appeared at your side, taking another step back.

shit. that’s definitely him. weird horn headpiece, blonde hair, too-short jacket, dog tags and all.

you lick at your lips. they taste of salt. “hi?”

you hate how shattered your voice is. how quiet and rough it’s gotten.

“hey! i’m thoma.” he extends a hand, the small ribbon on the back of his glove rippling in the soft breeze. “it’s nice to meet you!”

you hesitate. it feels like you do a lot of that lately.

you remember him being affiliated with the kamisatos, which means he’s almost certainly heard of everything you’ve been accused of. but… there’s no way he would come up to you so casually if that was the case, right?

you want to trust him. you do. but there hasn’t been anybody else yet that you could.

carefully, you meet his hand with your own weak grip. the cloth on his gloves is leather, unsurprisingly, and though it is cold with the dusk chill, his fingers are warm. you have a feeling it’s from his vision, and your mind flickers to the last time you slept by a fire.

it’s been months.

“oh, you’re freezing! what are you doing outside?” his voice jumps a few octaves and his hand tightens around yours. “oh jeez, you’re going to catch a cold if you’re not careful. what are you doing without a coat in the middle of winter?“

is it winter? you don’t really remember the last time you knew the date for certain, but if that was true, then it was bad news. the clothes you wore you got from hilichurls and abyss mages, but the main enemies in inazuma were nobushi…

your worry must show on your face, because thoma’s frown deepens.

“now that i look at you… you’re not from inazuma, are you?”

you shake your head no.

“oh no… did you get caught up in the outlander affairs agency? they haven’t gotten any better after the decree, have they….”

“no, i-“ you cut yourself off with a coughing fit, tasting a bitter mixture of salt, blood, and bile climb up your throat. it’s disgusting, and alarmingly salty. you must have drank more ocean water than you meant to; it’s a wonder you didn’t choke on the trip over.

(how did you make it over? the distance from liyue to inazuma was too large for you to have simply floated, surely? but didn’t thoma himself float over?)

thoma’s other hand lands between your shoulder blades, patting lightly. “hey, it’s okay. it’s good you haven’t ran into the agency, but that cough doesn’t sound good at all…”

you adjust the tattered mask on your face, straightening and doing your best to look like you haven’t been on the run. “i’ll be fine.”

your chest tightens with the need to cough, but you set your jaw. you can’t afford to get involved with the yashiro commission. you’re certain the mora clutched in your grip is enough to buy you a decent meal and—alongside the rest of it—some kind of warm herbal tea.

gentle green eyes catch the money in your palm and widen. you can see the gears clicking inside his head, and he speaks before you can.

“is that all the mora you have?”

“i-“

“and you don’t even have a- ah, i can’t leave you out here like this. could you come with me to the teahouse? there’s a waypoint just inside ritou, and i’d feel a lot better if i could get you some tea and clean clothes. it won’t be the fanciest, but i know there’s some spare sets and anything would be better than risking an illness. inazuman winters aren’t kind, and the shogun hasn’t been in the best mood as of late.”

the pros and cons weigh in your head. you could go with somebody you know is kind, and get what is certainly good food and hot drinks with clean clothes to boot. or, you could risk walking into a trap with, arguably, one of the most influential people in the yashiro commission at least, if not all of inazuma. it’ll either be the best choice you’ll ever make, or one that’ll land you in front of tenshukaku in chains.

thoma picks up on your hesitation, taking his hand off your shoulder and giving you space, though he keeps your hands linked. “can i at least bring you some dinner, then, if you don’t want to come with me? or a blanket? or- or something?“

he’s awfully worried for somebody he just met. you’re not sure if his determination is evidence of his benevolent nature, or if he’s trying to make you trust him as he calls over some shogunate soldiers.

…you also can’t decide if it’s your desperation for connection with somebody you can rely on or your need for a better environment that makes you agree.

maybe his bright smile has something to do with it. or the comforting warmth in his hands as he leads you away? maybe it’s the way he holds you tightly against him after you ask to go to the teahouse and are nearly sick coming out of the teleporter.

or maybe, by chance, it’s the light in his eyes when you say ‘thank you’.

[rhaenella]

CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.7

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain

face claim: léon

a/n: the finale... once again, all songs mentioned are either by taylor swift or léon. happy reading x

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Liked by taylorswift, danielricciardo and 1,292,849 others

y/n: End & New Beginnings. ONE WEEK.

✨Is It Over Now?~Say Don’t Go~Bigger Than The Whole Sky~You’re Losing Me~Now That We Don’t Talk~Pretty Boy✨

View all 12,138 comments

user55: y/n’s latest masterpiece is incoming!!

user56: YES GIRL LETS GO

user57: omg finally 😱

user58: can’t fucking wait 💛

user59: babe are you realizing you’re releasing on friday the 13th 💀

user56: y/n is like “i’ve conquered all this year’s bad luck already, no one can stop me”

6 October

Liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,450,288 others

y/n: It feels like it’s been a long time coming and now it’s here, my new EP ‘End & New Beginnings’ 🤍 Been a few sleepless nights making this to be honest. Ups and downs like always. But now I’m just so happy to let go of it and let you have it, and hopefully you’ll embrace it and make it yours. 

To the incredible people who’ve been a part of this record, THANK YOU! Couldn’t have done it without you… 

Here’s to the end & new beginnings 🕊️

View all 14,159 comments

taylorswift: Perfection 🥰✨🎼😍💋

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo: ART.

Liked by y/n

lilymhe: Beautiful work sweetie, I can’t with how talented you are 🥹 You made me cry the entire 23 mins (and then again cuz it was on repeat)

y/n: Awww, thank you love 🥰 and I’m sorryyyy 🙊

alex_albon: It’s so so good! I didn’t cry tho…

lilymhe: Liar

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Wow 💕

Liked by y/n

yourbestfriend: You’ve outdone yourself once again, darling, love you

y/n: I love you more baby

user60: as someone who’s just gone through a terrible breakup too, i cannot express how comforting it is to hear these songs and realize i’m not alone

Liked by y/n

13 October

—

You let your phone drop to the bathroom counter, blinking slowly, unable to fathom the conversation that had just taken place. Had he really just said those things? Scrolling through the texts confirmed that yes, he had indeed. The bastard.

Charles had always been the jealous type. But attacking you like that when he had been the one to… It was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently he still couldn’t—or wouldn’t—grasp the depths of how much he had actually hurt you.

You’d loved him with all of your heart. Until he had ripped it out and hurled it to the floor, letting it shatter into a million tiny pieces. Yet, even then, you would’ve forgiven him. If only he’d apologised. If only he’d shown true remorse. But he hadn’t. And so you’d been forced to walk the path of mending your own heart, and move on with your life.

Perhaps a small part of you had hoped that he could be happy for you. That somehow, even after everything, you would be able to greet each other normally—that you could coexist peacefully. But as his texts just now had demonstrated, that wasn’t going to happen. Not right now. And definitely not next week in Texas. You sighed. It would’ve been too good to be true, anyway. Especially considering who you were currently seeing…

A light knock sounded at the door, startling you out of those thoughts. 

“Are you almost ready to go, darling?” a male voice asked, soft.

Right. Dinner. Celebrations. 

You had been in the midst of applying the finishing touches to your makeup and outfit before Charles had interrupted, quite literally shocking you to the core when his name had appeared on your lock screen. He’d been the last person you’d expected to hear from today.

You swallowed the bitter taste that Charles’ texts had managed to leave behind. He wasn’t worth it, you repeated to yourself. You weren’t going to let his shenanigans ruin a perfect night—a perfect date. You ran a hand through your hair and readjusted the necklace around your neck when the bathroom door creaked open behind you. 

Looking up, your eyes met your handsome, new boyfriend’s through the mirror. He was smiling, eyebrows raised in silent question, ever patient as he waited for you to finish up. You felt your pulse quicken at the sight of him, dressed to perfection in a dark suit, hair neatly tousled.

As always, his presence was able to reassure you within the blink of an eye, the tense muscles in your neck and shoulders relaxing as you gladly let all of your complex emotions fall away.

“Yes,” you nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your lips. “I’m ready.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

THE END

but who is she with? well, there’s a little (and not so subtle) easter egg that refers back to the beginning of part 6 that will confirm certain things… have you spotted it?

thank you everyone for coming along on this ride! it’s been a hell of a lot of fun writing and creating this story 🥰 my apologies to all the y/n x charles shippers out there, but as our songbird said: here’s to the end and new beginnings…

Now, if you'd like, please cast your votes below :)

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx @kagatinkita @allywthsr @evieepepi08 @viennakarma @riverjane-d @httpjeonlicious @madnesstaking0ver @futurecorps3 @celesteblack08 @sadg3 @simxican @glow-ish @spideybv28 @laneyspaulding19 @tswizzleismother @slytherinfolk25 @merchelsea @1655clean @urgirlnextdoorr @cixrosie @lightdragonrayne @lxclerc @hopexcroc @nichmeddar @imthebadguyyy

[angxlofvenus]

A Shoulder To Cry On Pt. 2

Requested By: @saturnsapothecary Genre: Hurt/comfort Ship: Side Characters x reader TW: Mentions of crying, physical touch, Distressing situations (not specific), hugging, mentions of kissing, sad Solomon, Word count: 805 words AN: Hi! This is the second installment in this, This one is sad just like the last one and has some depressing topis, please heed the TW and happy reading!!

Find Pt. 1 Here! (Demon Brothers edition!)

Diavolo

You can hear this man's heart shatter into a million tiny pieces

He just wanted to surprise you at the HoL but he never expected to see this!

Runs up to you and kneels in front of you, “What’s wrong, my dear?” 

He doesn’t have much experience with consoling people but everything comes to him so naturally as he gently lifts you from the ground and brings you to your feet before asking you to accompany him to the castle

Once you all arrive, He’ll send Barbatos to start you a bath and will try to make your stay as comfortable and luxurious as you let him.

Unlike the others he actually can do something about your problem, He is the prince, One day king, of the Devildom- He has a lot on his plate but you will always be his top priority no matter what.

Barbatos

He had come over with Dia to attend a meeting with Lucifer, While the two conversed he decided to pay a quick visit to you, Not knowing what he would discover,

A soft gasp resounded throughout the room as light steps, almost like a ghost grew nearer and nearer.

His presence would almost dance around you as his eyes took in your being, Looking for signs of wounds or anything else that the naked eye could find.

Very slowly, a gloved hand would take your face, No words were spoken as he looked into your eyes, His hand would curve around your arm and gently rise your body up before creating a portal to lead you to the HoL, Sending a quick text to Lucifer and Diavolo of you whereabouts

He’d lead you to a couch in a private sitting room before disappearing for a couple of minutes, coming back with tea and a large box of things, He’d set the tea and other assortments down on the coffee table.

He would settle himself beside you at a comfortable distance, Just in case, Before pulling things out of the box, Tissues, A blanket, etc 

He’d bundle you up and would start preparing the tea as he’d let you talk about the situation/anything you’d want to talk about

He isn’t allowed to fix tiny things with his powers, But he will always be there for you- no matter the outcome.

Simeon

Oh this sweet angel

He could probably feel your distress through the door

One of the only people to actually know what to do, He is an angel who not only is raising another angel but is also a very naturally nurturing person

He is by your side before you can even register that he’s there, His presence washes over you like the sun as he immediately frets over you in a soft tone

You get to your feet with his help, He leads you to the bed before tucking you in with a soft hand running over your forehead (He would also kiss your forehead if you’d like)

Sleep takes over your tired state as he whispers reassurances and praise to you, He is a warm soul and will help you in any way he can

Solomon

He was just returning a book he had borrowed when he saw you.

His entire body stiffens up as your own racks with sobs

“Mc..?” he says in a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear

You meet his eyes, Swirls of grey remorse float through his eyes as he tries to understand what he’s seeing

He lingers near the door as he watches you try to get yourself together, Unsure of what to do.

“I-How can I help?” Your eyes will meet his again as he searches for an answer.

Whatever you want at that moment, He’ll do. If you want to talk, He’s all ears, If you want comfort, His body will slowly unwind- muscles untensing, as your bodies melted together

He is in a world up against demons and angels alike, fighting over your attention daily. But if he can be there for you in these moments, Minds so close together, Him helping you, That would be enough.

Luke

“Mc!-” The boy would say cheerfully as he entered, Once he saw you though, Whole demeanor change.

A little gasp leaves him before he runs towards you, Immediately looking you over, “What have those demons done to you!?” 

Please reassure him that everything is okay, This boy is jumping to conclusions as soon as he sees your face

He will hug you tightly as tears well up in his eyes, What can he do to make it better? He just wants you happy- You don’t deserve this!

Will invite you to come and de-stress at the Purgatory hall by baking with him.

Will definitely be over protective of you for a couple weeks after that

[mggsv]

RED (pt.2) read part 1 here

gn!reader x spencer reid (slight emily prentiss)

summary: as if your punishment couldn’t get worse, Emily tags in Spencer..who just so happened to wear red for the occasion

warnings: public sex acts, edging, crying, hard dom!spencer, sub!reader, degrading, orgasm denial, spanking

“Tag, you’re it Pretty Boy.”

Emily shoots a wink at Spencer as you all entered the conference room. You trailing right behind her, and him chuckling. As you entered you felt his hand graze over your hip. You shivered. It wasn’t too long ago that you returned from Emily’s place, her panties going back to your apartment as a token (or so she says). Not to mention what happened in the elevator on the way up from the parking lot- your fingers deep in her cunt.

You sit down, Spencer and Emily on either side of you. Your hands nervously peeling at the vanilla file in front of you. “Did you do what I asked?” he mutters softly to you. You shift, the toy inside of you moving as well. Surely you hadn’t thought it was over. You’d hope it was, you never said a word to Spencer and yet he was in on it….like he always was. “Well?” he asked again, seeing as you hadn’t said anything. “..yes.”

“Good.” He chuckles, just as Garcia walks in.

Now, you figured he’d wait to tease you. To have you all to himself like he usually did. How he’d fuck you every chance Emily didn’t have you. In fact they played a game of ‘Tag’ with you, and when was was done, the other was just starting. You stared down at the case file. You could make out the words but you weren’t reading them no- you were rubbing your thighs together. The toy inside you vibrated lowly as Garcia talked. You let out a small, desperate breath. You wanted to be touched and taken right there. You couldn’t have sex with Emily, she wouldn’t allow it. And now Spencer…even the thought made you nervous.

“Well- what do you think?” You hear Emily’s voice. Your eyes slowly graze over to her, and then to everyone else who stared at you expectantly. And then at Spencer, who looked at you with such an intense look, as if he weren’t toying with you. “I- I’m sorry?” You rushed out, Emily patting your shoulder. “The case- the unsubs? To me it sounds like two alpha personalities but one doesn’t fit the other, one shows sympathy, remorse and care for the victims while the others brutal and uncaring.”

Your throat felt dry as she spoke. You hadn’t listened to anything. Your sex started to throb, you moved just a bit, getting the pleasure from your punishment. You felt the toy go up a setting, making you gasp. You stood quickly, looking at the concerning eyes surrounding you. “I’m sorry I need a moment.” But you were already out the door.

The toy’s speed worsened the farther you got away from the conference room. You moaned softly into your hand as you ended up in another room farther down the hall. You couldn’t even close the door, finding a chair to quickly sit in. “Fuck..” you moan, and just as quickly as it was on, the toy was off. You groaned, face palming.

“Look at what we have here..” you hear Spencer’s voice, along with the sound of the door closing.

“Please-“

“Don’t.” he shushes you. he takes the remote out of his pocket and sets it in the table, his eyes never leaving yours. “I heard..someone’s been chattering a bit too much.”

“Spencer you were there.” You say quietly. He raised a brow in surprise. “And here you are still, running that mouth.” He made his way around the table to you, fingers grazing your chin before roughly grabbing it. “I didn’t tell you to speak.” He murmurs. His thumb rubbed your bottom lip gently before slipping into your mouth. “Suck..” he says quietly. You happily obeyed. Your tongue wrapped around it, sucking slowly while he fucked your mouth with his thumb.

“Just a slut…” He sighs, “Is this all you want? My cock in that hole of yours? Emily’s pussy in your mouth?” his thumb pulls out, quickly moving to wrap his hand around your neck. You moan quietly, staring up at Spencer. “Hm?” He hums. He grabs you by your arm to make you get up. You stumbled a few times but his hand never left your neck, and your eyes never left his. Your body leans against the table, hitting your back just a bit.

“Grab the remote.” He says, watching you struggle to reach behind you for it. There’s a smile on his face…he enjoyed it. He enjoyed watching you struggle..and you loved it when Spencer Reid fucked you. Once you grabbed the remote and quickly snatched it from you, “That’s my sweetheart.” He gave you a small kiss on your forehead. His hand let your neck go, checking out the remote. “On the table, legs spread.”

You obey. Your body leaning over the table, head down, back arched and legs spread. Spencer hums, you figured he was still checking the remote out. His hand rubbed over your ass, stopping to tug on the hem of your pants.

“This toy has lots of settings..You know- i didn’t read just how far it goes. Would you like to test it out?” You let out a small breath, “..Yes sir.”

-

“I…It hurts-“ You moan into the table, Spencer’s hand on the back of your head holding it down, his leg holding yours apart while they shook. Tears ran down your cheeks. The toy covered your sex whole..being on the highest setting. You could scream- you wanted to, you’d like to.. Spencer spanked your ass for what seemed like the twentieth time, you lost count..

“What have we learned hm?” He starts. Spencer knew he didn’t have much time, the jet was almost ready, the team waited. Emily however, knew, and boy did she chuckle to herself on her way to the coffee pot.

“pl..please- please please please let me cum sir- i’ll be good i promise, i promise Spence..” you sobbed into the table, your orgasm building up quickly again. Your legs felt weak, your sex buzzed, sensitive. His hand came down upon your ass again, making you yelp. “That’s not the right answer.”

“please..p..please” you suck in a deep breath, feeling your orgasm hitting, and hitting you hard. In an instant the toy was off of you, but it was too late for Spencer to keep edging you. He stepped back with a small, curious look on his face, watching your body collapse upon itself. Your legs shakily brining you to the ground onto your knees. You leaned forward on your hands, sniffling while you came. “pl…msorry sir m’so sorry..” you couldn’t stop the tears, you’d body twitching. You felt Spencer’s hand in your hair as he cooed at you. “It’s okay…we’ll just have to pick up on this another time until you get it right, wouldn’t we?”

“mm..” you lean into his body, the soft red cardigan he wore always made you feel at ease

“That’s my sweetheart.”

[spontaneousglitterbees]

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Welcome friends, acquaintances, and curious strangers! Call me Bea/Glitter if you like, and this is my personal blog. I post art/writing/music on occasion, but most posts are probably multifandom reblogs.

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I have an Ao3 account! Formerly calculatingMinutiae, now spontaneousglitterbees

Current sideblogs and projects include:

The Ghost of Glimwood Tangle, a Pokemon fic universe wherein Allister is a ghost. Sideblog @2sp00ky. Has a playlist, current chapters posted to Ao3.

The Pilotlight, a Homestuck fic surrounding the untimely demise and un-demise of one Mituna Captor. Sideblog @calculatingminutiae. Has been in my head for years and is slowly, slowly happening. Also on Ao3.

Currently I've been working on a Danganronpa post-game AU, where the ndrv3 kids go to Hope's Peak. Welcome to the Talent Acquisition Project Pilot. Tagged #TAPP AU or #TAPP AU adjacent. Parts to date are now listed under the cut.

Ten Steps Back

A Marked Man (also on Ao3) (In-game)

Cat-alyst (Intro. Bishop)

First (Color) Contact

Pre-contact (Earlier that day)

Boys Will Be Boys

It's a Jacket Day (Doodle Dump 1)

The Setup (Miu Pt. I)

Intervention (Miu Pt. II)

Catharsis (Miu Pt. III)

About Maki (ask)

Seeing the State of Things (AU Lore 1)

Cecil Sweep (non-canon of course but can you imagine)

Friendship? (ask sequel)

Not a comic just tired

Stop It. Get Some Help. (not comic but a fic) (also on Ao3)

Doodle Dump 2

Miu's Tattoo

Who Wore It Better (Outfits 2)

How are everyone's injuries? (Lore dump 1)

This Heart of Mine is Guilty (Not Remorseful) (also on Ao3)

Welcome to the New Age (Ao3)

And There Will Be Cake

And you always will be.

About Therapy Animals I

Enter: Chihiro

Enter: Alter Ego

Ace ring

A conversation (1)

Ref for TAPP!Maki

"You've got to be kidding me" (Ao3)

The K1B0 Rescue Squad

TAPP AU-adjacent (mostly answers and ask games)

Outfits 1 (Kokichi x3)

Outfits 3 (Kokichi and Shuichi)

Emojis 1

Emojis 2

Emojis 3

Glitter rambles about Kokichi for a while

Oops pokemon time

Did the barbie and ken thing

Active TAPP WIPs

Ch. 2 of Welcome to the New Age (fic)

Some Assembly Required (comic)

[rosekisspeach]

TAROT READING//Mingkey Sexual Attraction - Bum's pt. 2

Date: 5/Feb/2024 Marker: Transparent Umbrella - SHINee Deck of Cards: Trungles' Star Spinner Tarot (Inclusive, Diverse, LGBTQ Theme); The Romance Angels Oracles; Manara Erotic Oracles

Notes Upfront:

I don't ask my cards questions that I already have answers;

I don't prey on information I should not know;

I respect their personal lives and;

This is for FUN ONLY.

Happy lunar new year everyone!!

In the following sexual attraction readings, be aware everything is "delulu" and I am just saying what I am seeing. Don't read this if you only see them as platonic friends/co-workers. . . . . .

Bum's part 2 - Subcon Reaching [...] -> Roads to regret/remorse Action: Empress Reverse, Lovers Reverse, Magician Reverse, Wands 2 Reverse Consciousness: Honeymoon, New Lover, Love Yourself First Subconsciousness: Reaching outward R, Roads to regret and remorse

Group 4: Reaching Outward (R)

“I asked myself, what should I do to conquer and charm? To be the queen and the whore, the king and the slave? I felt like if I were not seen I couldn't really exist. But it was only when I looked at myself that the world started noticing me.”

Continuing on from where we left, bum enjoying these sweet moments, the moments that he feels like dating ming and sailing in the honey drops, is what trapped bum from breaking this dilemma: He dates around but his heart belongs to ming. It hurts so much because we have a reversed Magician in action, showing that bum is PERFECTLY aware this is not working for himself. He feels like a caged leopard that he has to repress his lust and desire. Even if he outlets with someone else, someone attractive and just as hot, it never feels enough. Never. Yet it hurts bum's self-esteem to give up. Are you not even slightly attracted by me? Choi Minho. Bum bites his lower lip and winces. Kibum wants the truth because he thinks it is really unfair that he is emotionally unavailable (the reversed reaching outward card) while ming acts just fine, spending time in gym and watching soccer games with his hyungs.

But he only sees the facade ming tries to hard to keep on.

사랑해서 미워 미워 미워 그래도 뭘 어쩌겠어

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Oracle reading of Reaching Outward:

"A person who is in love with themselves is irresistible. They know what they want and who their body and soul are worthy of. It is not vanity and pride: it is a spell. The slightest movement awakens passion, their spectators shudder at her smallest gesture. Lust, caused by the breath of unknown words, arises like a fever. "

Group 5: Roads to Regret and Reverse

“I was crossing a swamp, and my feet dragged in the mud. Then I was crossing a river, and I felt finally free. Finally, I was crossing an ocean, and I knew how big the world really was.”

When I see the cards, I feel broken yet so proud of bummie. He has achieved so much since debut, both his minds and souls, being strong and determined and free. He is always on his road of becoming, for us, for himself. He can praise his works and arts, but bum, you also deserve to praise love. The reversed 2 of wands demonstrates his hesitation in love life. He is so invested in the idea that he will get hurt if he chooses ming, yet it is so ironic because if every time he doesn't, bum regrets deeply. The tears are raindrops, rivers and oceans and a part of bum's constant emotions. The oracles want bum to know that loving ming is loving himself, and choosing to ignore his true desire is only a path to remorse.

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Oracle reading of Roads to regret and remorse:

"In every journey, there is a moment when one looks back. Behind us is what we call home: a place of warmth and love. There may also be a terrible place, a dark place. Or a place in turmoil, surrounded by sound and fury. Home, however, is always comfortable, always known. Ahead, there is only uncertainty. A fog made of dreams, plans, fears, and maybes. There is no certainty in the paths we take, but the effort is well worth the loss of comfort as long as the journey is of our own volition. Fear leads to regret. Greedy dreams lead to remorse. The way between them is the way of peace."

Kibum ah, give your love a chance,

The love since your 18-years-old.

-over-

find me on Twitter @rosekisspeach

[beyondedenton]

Finally Pt. 2 || Camrien || November, 2021

Cameron: If someone had told Cam a few years ago that he would find himself here, Cam would have laughed in their face. Yet here he was, nestled under the covers in the arms of his best friend, relaxed and satisfied from the previous night’s activities. Cam took a moment to nuzzle into Lucien and take a long, slow breath, enjoying his signature smell, now mixed his own. He sighed as he slowly rose to consciousness.

Lucien: The soft stirring of Cameron was enough to pull a rumble from Lucien's chest. Purrs automatic, it seemed, before the cat had truly awakened. His best friend pulled closer to his chest, nuzzled as he stretched. Slowly. This was the weekend, which meant no alarm. The one true torture of being in the military. The damn hours.

Cameron: 'Just like a cat.' Cam smiled as Lucien stretched. It an obvious comment, but it always entertained Cam when he saw the cat parts of him show. Cam sighed and nestled just a little further under the covers. He didn't want the lazy warmth of the morning to end just yet, and in truth, he was a little nervous about the conversation that waited for them. Unwilling to think about that yet, Cam nuzzled his way under Lucien's chin and let his hand slide slowly up the other's back.

"Mornin'," he hummed finally, and he gave Lucien a small squeeze. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts any longer, and he knew that he no longer needed to.

Lucien: Lucien was as reluctant to move as the man in his arms. He sighed his lament for waking, but smiled when remembering he was in fact holding his best friend. His left hand didn't feel terribly light anymore. He didn't even notice.

"Mm, mornin'." That smile only grew as reality sank deeper and deeper beneath his skin, warming his entire body, it seemed. He leaned in, pressed a kiss without fear to Cameron's lips.

"Je t'aime."

Cameron: "What's that mean again?" Cam asked, and he blinked at just how easily Lucien kissed him. He returned it of course, but Cam was still reeling either the fact that they can do this- they can kiss and hold and... be with each other without guilt or remorse. This was real, all of this was so undeniably real, and yet Cam could barely believe it. Cam immediately leaned forward after their first kiss to steal another, just to be sure. For a moment he felt sheepish, almost shy- which was ridiculous. This was Lucien, and while yes, they had sex last night, this was the one person who knew him best. It was okay to feel vulnerable with him.

"What's that mean again?"

Lucien: Lucien shook his head, nuzzling into Cameron's chin as he did so. There was not a care in the world right now, even when offended with Cameron's forgetful mind. Maybe remembering hurt. Maybe his life was too busy. There was an answer, but still, he had to tease.

"Vous avez tellement oublié. I said I love ya, abruti," he laughed quietly, body gently shaking. "Say it with me, je t'aime."

Cameron: Cam smiled softly, and he reached up to run his fingers through Lucien's hair.

"Je t'aime." Cam replied, mimicking the other's accent perfectly. Silly Lucien, he could never lose something he'd used so much in their childhood. He still couldn't speak it very well, but there were some phrases practiced more than others. "I didn't forget," he grinned, "I just wanted to hear you say it in English, too."

There was a brief pause.

"And I'm not a dummy," he tried to pout, but it was very difficult with the cheeky grin on his lips, "you are."

Lucien: Oh. So, he hadn't forgotten? Before he realized, Lucien was grinning from ear to ear. He felt warmth in his eyes, but that was all. No tears, just the threat of moisture. Why, he couldn't tell you.

"We're both fuckin' stupid."

Cameron was pulled as close as he was able. Brought into a lingering sleepy kiss.

"Ya sleep okay?" Now that some time had passed, the weight of last night had finally sunk; realizing how rough he could be. It had never mattered before, but it mattered now. He was a cat, and that wasn't going to change, but he needed to know the lay of Cameron's thoughts.

Cameron: "Pretty much," Cam agreed, and he laughed as he leaned into the kiss. It was lazy, easy, and felt completely natural. There was no more hesitation.

"Yeah," Cam nodded, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks as he recalled the activities that wore him out. It made him feel warm and content to think about. "Honestly, that's the best I've  slept in ages." A sheepish smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "That was also by far the best sex I've had in ages, too." Cam enjoyed all types of sex, including when it was rough. Marks, bruises, pleasure, pain- anything meant to mark one's claim were welcome, when it came to Lucien. Considering the myriad of things Cam had tried, the roughness of last night was somewhat tame.

"And you? How did you sleep?"

Lucien: Lucien didn't know what to say after such a comment. Wit seemed to have flown away with his sharp exhale, laughing at the surprise of it all. It had been an experience he'd never forget, and to know Cameron felt the same...

"Felt like... the kinda sleep ya get on vacation. Know what I mean? Like, real sleep. Ya gave me real sleep."

But he needed to get out of bed. Their day needed to begin, and they had their five minutes.

Lucien leaned in for one final kiss, rolling to the other side of the bed.

"Bathroom," he announced. "You hungry? I want some eggs."

Cameron: "NNngghhh...." Cam whined after Lucien pulled away. He completely agreed with Lucien on the sleep, he felt truly refreshed which is something he hadn't felt in ages, but that didn't mean he wanted to get out of bed yet. "Do we have to get up?" he pouted and tried to latch his arms back around Lucien's waist to prevent his escape.

Lucien: "I gotta go to the bathroom, baby!" He laughed. "I ain't goin' anywhere." Maybe a compromise?

"Take a shower with me."

Cameron: Reluctantly Cam released Lucien and nodded.

"Alright," he agreed, and he gave Lucien a nudge so he could follow.

Lucien: "I uh," he pointed to the toilet, as though a reminder of what was about to happen. One thing had changed in adulthood. They were no longer children free of such embarrassing concerns.

"There's a bathroom down the hall... if ya want."

Cameron: "I know, Lucien," Cam laughed, "I'm just following you off this side of the bed. I'm going to get my clothes, is the shower in that other bathroom? I can start it if it is."

Lucien: "I mean if ya gotta piss. Shower works just fine, in here."

Cameron: "Alright, then I'll start the shower," Cam leaned in to give Lucien's cheek a kiss, and then he dipped into the bathroom to start the water. When Cam left the bathroom, he headed for the living room and began to gather their clothes. There was a moment, after Cam had his arms full and he was ready to head back to the bedroom, that he stopped an looked at the couch. A flood of memories from last night followed, and his cheeks flushed. With a sigh, he buried his face into their clothes, and warmth blossomed in his chest. He still could barely believe this was real, because it all felt too easy. Could it be this easy? They had plenty to talk about and figure out, but... for once, he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was a small bit of fear, buried deep down, but he was determined not to fixate on it this time. He wouldn't let his pessimism ruin whatever this was.

Cam peeked over the clothes to look at the couch once more before returning to the bedroom.

Lucien: Lucien waited for Cameron to leave before finally using the toilet. After so many years leading to this moment, everything felt so raw. Not quite delicate, but he could spare the grimy details of life another day, surely. Cameron didn't need to hear him piss.

Now he was staring at the water, allowing more and more of reality to sink. He was serious about this. Last night wasn't a one-off in desperation or stress. He'd meant it. Every word he'd meant, and for a split-second he wondered if Cameron was going to return. When he did, he couldn't help but smile.

"Day one n'you're already pickin' up after us? Get in the fuckin' shower."

Cameron: Cam was happy to leave the grimy details of life for... well, the rest of their lives- if that's what this was. He knew he wanted something like that, he was fairly confident that's what Lucien also wanted, but he wasn't going to operate on assumptions (or words spoken in the heat of the moment) alone. They'd both wanted to just...be together for so long, how would they even talk about it?

The unknowns made that tiny bit of fear pang in Cam's chest, but as soon as he entered the bathroom and saw Lucien smiling at him, waiting for him, he felt the fear melt away.

"Honestly, I was just doing it so we'd have something to change into once we're out," he shrugged and gave Lucien a sheepish grin. "Then I remembered we're in your home and we can both wear your clothes so," he set their pile of clothes to the side, and with a playful wiggle in front of Lucien he slipped into the shower.

Lucien: Lucien did his best to hold back a laugh, shaking his head just the same. Cameron seemed flustered, and he didn't want to make it worse.

"Ya can wear whatever ya want. Just not my uniform."

Cameron would be followed after brushing his teeth. He couldn't remember if a spare had been left out, so one was pulled from under the sink, left in its packaging just in case.

Once in, Lucien dipped his head under the stream for a brief soak.

"Ya sleep okay?"

Cameron: "Oh yeah, I think that's a given," Cam chuckled. "You look too good in it any way, it'd just be another layer of disrespectful for me to wear it," Cam was never on the proper side of the law, so he didn't care for any government agency, but he knew the symbolism of something like that, and the respect that came with it. Lucien worked hard; Cam never wanted to minimize that.

As Lucien joined him, he made sure to angle himself partially into the spray as he reached for a bottle of shampoo and lathered up his hands. Then he motioned for Lucien to lean forward slightly so Cam could wash his hair.

"Like I said in bed," he hummed, "that's the best night of sleep I've had in... ages. I slept really well. Soundly, which isn't usually the case for me."

Lucien: Had he already asked? He had no control over the first three sentences to come out of his mouth when first opening his eyes.

His arm came to rest on the cold tile, head dipped down for Cameron to wash as he pleased. Shampoo running onto his face. He would just keep his eyes closed.

"Ya been like that since ya left?" The subject of sleep was pretty much nonexistent until now. Questions he wanted answers to, now that they had committed to each other. There would be more to come before Monday.

Cameron: There was small stretch of silence after Lucien's question, and Cam worked his fingers into Lucien's hair. He could feel himself trying to clam up, to succumb to his fear of letting someone who loved him truly see him, but he knew that to commit to this, to them, he couldn't let that happen.

"Since my mother died, actually..." he admitted quietly, and his voice strained for a moment as he forced himself to continue. "Before I met a certain someone," Cam paused and his fingers stopped their slow massage of Lucien's scalp, clearly indicating who he was speaking about before his hands resumed their quest, "they happened multiple times weekly- if not nightly. I don't think it ever was sound." Gently, he pulled Lucien into the water to rinse the shampoo. "Then I met you, I started talking again, and the nightmares happened less and less." He started to search for body wash and a loofa or cloth.

"When I left... when dad told me to leave, they started to happen again. There were periods where they happened all the time, sometimes less, but the only way to guarantee I wouldn't have one, or would sleep more soundly than normal, would be to work myself so hard I'd be too tired to have dreams. Sex, pain, working out for hours at a time- whatever it took to be exhausted by the end of it. The only other time I think I slept soundly was with my first boyfriend, Alex. Unfortunately, he disappeared. I never found out what happened to him."

Lucien: Cameron made it sound as though he had been a reason, if not the main reason the nightmares had slowed. Talking, sure. He knew that much, having overheard the adults growing up. It was as flattering as it was depressing.

Alex. The name was familiar. It stung in his chest as familiarity would. As jealousy would. But he couldn't remember anything about the man besides the name itself. Maybe that was a blessing.

"What came first, ya tellin' me ya wanted t'get out n'be a hero, or your dad kickin' ya out?"

Cameron: Lucien wasn't the only reason Cam had finally forgiven himself enough to come out of his shell, but he was the start, the spark that re-started a little flame. He could have grown up bitter, angry, and sad, but Lucien had helped prevent that.

"Hero-ing came first," Cam smiled, "mom always said that our powers were gifts, and we should use them to help others, to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. My brain as a child translated that into becoming a super hero, and mom never discouraged me. Maybe she thought I'd grow out of it." He shrugged and soaped up the luffa. Then he started to wash Lucien from head to toe.

There was a brief pause.

"What happened, after I left?" Cam asked quietly. "For you, I mean." Not that Cam wanted to dwell on the mistakes of the past, but he wanted to understand the pain he'd caused in his haste to leave.

Lucien: Lucien took to leaning his shoulder against the tile, pliable to Cameron's cleansing whims. His eyes were to the ground but not, caught years in the past.

"Ya know, my daddy was always a tight ass. He just started losin' it after a while. Pissed at everything. Turned someone when he shouldn't. Didn't even know he could. Told my whole life we're only born this way. Mama said s'cause he was closer t'his beast. So, ya know, that happened, n'then the guy he turned up and..." he motioned to his neck.

"I dunno, just sorta lost it then. Ran from home, tried t'kill the guy that... n'I couldn't. He wasn't the bad guy, ya know? I mean, ya know the rest. Ya know about Penka, how I got Leilani."

There was a pause, washing his face with just water cupped in his hands.

"Ya know Mama killed herself? Left me the house in Baton Rouge. I dunno what t'do with it. Want t'sell it. Ain't got 'round to it."

Cameron: Cam felt his chest tighten, but he kept silent until Lucien finished. He focused on his hands instead, the smooth muscle beneath his fingers, the smell of soap and the trail of suds over Lucien's chest. When all of him was properly scrubbed he guided Lucien back into the water to rinse.

“I'm sorry," Cam said after a short pause, with only the sound of the shower between them, "that I wasn't there for you through all of that. I should have been." He knew he had said this before, but now that he understood the depth of it, it needed to be said again. Not out of guilt or remorse, because Cam certainly felt those things, but because Lucien deserved one. Cam reached up and gently pulled Lucien's hands from his face, tugging the other forward for a shared kiss beneath the running water.

"I'm here for you now," he pulled away just enough so he could touch their foreheads together. "If you want to go back and visit the place, or figure out how to sell it, I want to help." The concept of returning anywhere near home was terrifying to him, but it wasn't a question when it came to Lucien.

Lucien: There was a part of Lucien that wanted to resist that affection. That remaining shard of a teenager unfamiliar with his emotions, pushing and pulling at people's collars with new and unwieldy strength. Despite his instinct, he returned the kisses in kind, closed his eyes as they pressed foreheads.

"Ya had your own shit goin' on, Cammy. They made their choices." That out of the way, he took a breath. His chest felt... lighter.

"Wanna keep it, or sell it? Could rent it. Extra cash, ya know?"

Cameron: Cam smiled, and he felt years’ worth of tension melt from his shoulders.

"Renting it works, and that means you can leave it for Leilani one day." Something fluttered in his chest when the question was posed to him, that Lucien cared about his opinion in that decision.

Lucien: Day one of their relationship didn't feel like day one. This felt like a continuation, rather than a beginning. Maybe they could both breathe a little easier. Cameron was generally easy going, but he knew what lay beneath. At least he'd come to know as much.

"Hadn't thought of that. Yeah. We could bring her by, let her see it. But like, would a kid her age even care?" he laughed.

Cameron: "Probably not," Cam chuckled and shook his head. "That can always be saved for later, when she's old enough to appreciate it. We can also just go for us. If you want to rent it, it'll probably need a good clean."

Lucien: "Yeah, later. Okay! So, rent it out, then. Ya know, it really ain't a bad idea. S'just been collectin' dust. Wastin' money on property tax n'shit."

Cameron's face was suddenly cupped in both hands, given a passionate kiss.

"Thanks."

Cameron: "Exactly," Cam chuckled. It was an odd conversation to have after everything, without really having talked about it, but it helped to ease some Cam's anxiety. There was no pressure, no right way to figure this out. Plus, he didn't have to figure this out alone, and that mattered more than anything else.

Cam's breath caught as he was kissed, and with the way his heart fluttered again he wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that they could kiss.

"You're welcome," he breathed, returning the kiss with a smile. "But- what are you thanking me for exactly?" he asked, and pulled back just enough so he could tilt his head and look up.

Lucien: "Thought you'd say this was a mistake." He breathed deeply between them. Still close enough to feel Cameron's warmth. He smiled, though it was brief. He wanted what he said to be taken seriously.

"It's not. Just gettin' that outta the way now. I meant everything. Still do."

Cameron: "I'll be honest," Cam inhaled slowly to steady himself, "I'm scared." He squeezed Lucien's hands, and tilted his head to kiss the other's palm. "I'm so... fucking terrified of fucking this up." Just thinking about it made something twist painfully in his chest.

"But even with that... I haven't once felt like it was a mistake. I don't want to keep making the same errors of my past- I don't want to run away from something I want, especially not because I'm afraid of messing it up." A kiss was given to Lucien's other palm. "So- I mean everything I said, too. And..." he paused, closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and opened his eyes again to look directly at Lucien. A part of him wanted to contradict everything he'd said up until now, to run just as he'd done so many times before, but he had meant what he said- he wasn't going anywhere but here.

"I want you to be my boyfriend," he looked of to the side bashfully, unable to look Lucien directly in the eyes after that. If he wasn't flushed from the heat of the water, he was sure he would be blushing, "or whatever."

Lucien: Lucien was shaking his head at the very thought of fucking this up. He really couldn't see how that was possible. Cameron had a tendency to run, but he just couldn't see him running from this. The more Cameron spoke, the less he could fathom any fear of moving forward. It all seemed so irrational now. He felt sorry for the man in his arms, how he must have been carrying this, building up this concern since the moment he opened his eyes. Had that kind of thoughtfulness always been a part of Cameron, he couldn't say. Most of their friendship he'd seen this man as fearless. Sorrowful, but fearless.

"I said you're mine. You've been mine since last night. So... yeah. You've been mine for hours." Lucien grinned, soaked hair beginning to cover his eyes. "Or whatever."

Cameron: Cam smiled softly at that grin, and he reached up to wipe Lucien's hair away from his face. Then he cupped Lucien's face to pull Lucien in for a playful kiss, and he enjoyed the warm feeling that spread through him as Lucien claimed him yet again. He made it seem so easy to fall into this

"Or whatever," Cam laughed softly, and he wrapped his arms around Lucien's neck to steal another kiss.

"You should..." he grinned and shifted them so Lucien wasn't directly under the stream of water, "call me yours again."

Lucien: Lucien leaned into his hands and chuckled again. 'Whatever' was going to be their new thing. He liked it.

"Course you're mine. That's how it works. You're mine and I'm yours. That okay with ya?"

Another bottle was taken from the tile shelf, lathered and rubbed all over his face. Just days of leave and his scruff was thick, almost a beard.

"Are ya mine?" He opened one eye to watch Cameron's reaction.

Cameron: "I'm all yours," Cam grinned, and he felt a rush of excitement as the words felt real. This was not a dream, and still Cam could barely believe this was real. "And you're mine."

He reached up to scratch his fingers lightly over Lucien's scruff, and then he grabbed the soap for himself to begin lathering it into his hair.

"So...." he started slowly, a little unsure of what he wanted to ask, "what should we do after we're done showering?"

Lucien: "Sounds like you're askin' what we're gonna do for the rest of our lives." He leaned into the water long enough to rinse his face.

"That what you're really askin'?"

Cameron: "Not exactly," Cam started awkwardly, and he glanced off to the side. He was quiet for a moment, focusing on his thoughts and the massage of his fingers against his scalp.

"I meant more like, what do we actually want to do after we're done showering? Should we talk about anything? Are we just gonna eat breakfast and cuddle?" He shrugged, unsure of exactly what he was trying to say.

Lucien: Lucien just smiled and existed under the water a minute. He needed that, and the cold air to follow as he stepped out of the shower.

"Yes to both. And... if there's anything to talk about, it's where you wanna... live. I don't wanna jump the gun or anything, but, like, do you wanna... stay here? More often, I mean. I know ya got your own place, but like, do ya wanna say ya live here?"

Cameron: Cam let the silence settle between them and enjoyed the moment. He was over thinking this, and he knew it. He was so worried about the ways this could go wrong that he had no room for the ways this could go right, and that wasn't fair to Lucien, or himself- and he wondered how many more times he'd have to say that to himself before he'd believe it.

Cam stepped into the water, as Lucien stepped back, to rinse the soap from his hair. His body came next, and as Cam scrubbed himself down the flutter in his heart at Lucien's question gave him pause.

"Yeah," Cam said quietly after a bit, his smile warming. "I'd like that. Plus, if we want it to be permanent," Cam turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He was smiling more easily now, and he reminded himself to embrace whatever this is, whatever they wanted. "I wouldn't mind not having to spend the money on that apartment. Rent is not cheap there."

Lucien: "Where the fuck is the apartment?" Not that he wasn't keeping track of Cameron's life, but Cameron had a tendency to be vague in random spurts. He lived in New Orleans... in a few places. One being Bronwyn's house on occasion. A place in New York, while teaching, and then around, something about the city - it was a lot to keep track of, and he was still in the middle of a divorce.

"Spare key's in the kitchen. S'yours. N'when I moved back t'Louisiana, s'yours there, too."

Cameron: Cam laughed and reached past Lucien for a nearby towel.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he grinned and leaned against the counter, "we both know I don't need an excuse to want to live with you. I gotta work on the sarcasm." He grinned playfully from under the edge of the towel as he began to dry his hair off. "Plus, I'm really the one coming out on top here, "he reached behind Lucien, his hand sliding sensually along the line of his hip. "I get to do this-" he smirked as he gave Lucien's cheek a comically firm squeeze, "-whenever I want now." A final, teasing pat to said cheek, and Cam leaned back to finish toweling himself dry.

"I'll take it," he nodded. "I'll make keys for my place in New York. Not that we'd be living there but- In case you ever need them."

Lucien: Lucien just smiled, watching Cameron from the mirror while he loaded his toothbrush. Beautiful man. All his, finally. Having Cameron touch him whenever he felt like, it was liberating. They'd been without for so long, and now, it just felt natural.

"Which one?" he asked between brushing. One rinse later, continuing with, "Why you have an apartment when you got the school?"

Cameron: "The one in the city. I kept the apartment because I always felt strange bringing someone I don't know into the school." He gave Lucien a playful smirk. "Sure, I mighta fantasized about 'sneaking' someone up to my room once or twice- which wouldn't really be sneaking since I'm allowed to do so- but it's probably best to avoid inviting a complete stranger into a school full of children.

"So the apartment was where I took... interested parties. Zeus and I used to live there primarily before I moved him over to the school with me. The kids help me take care of him now."

Cam followed suit, and he started brushing his teeth once he was dry.

"Plus, it gave me a place to be away from the kids and the school and just be alone for a little while."

Lucien: Lucien took to sitting on the counter to listen. Engrossed in what Cameron had to say.

"D'ya wanna keep that place?" Actually, he had a new question as well, to ask after Cameron finished the first inquiry. "Whatever happened to what's her name. Started with an A. Al-meh-kuh? Al-mee-kuh? Allie?" It wasn't that he'd forgotten on purpose; it had been many months since her mention, and then nothing.

Cameron: "I wouldn't mind, but we also don't have to. If you don't think we'd make much use out of it, it'd be pointless to use the money on it," Cam finished toweling himself off and began to tug on his clothes. "Almika," Cam smiled. "I was thinking about it, but there never felt like a right time. I wasn't ready, and she was adopted by someone else," there was a hint of sadness in his voice, but his smile was genuine, "they spend a large portion of their time in water, like she does, so it actually worked out even better for her."

Lucien: "That's... Good." No matter how he felt, that was the correct answer. As a father he knew that to be true. As Cameron's boyfriend, he felt another way.

"You'll be a dad here," he said cautiously. "Ya wantin' more kids?"

Cameron: Cam's smile warmed and he glanced up at Lucien. "I wouldn't mind more, if that's something you wanted." He shrugged again moved so he could lean against the counter next to the werecat.

"Growing up with siblings has its perks, and it's nice having siblings around when you're home alone. Nelson basically raised me after my mom died. Dad shut down and disappeared into his work, it's probably why Nelson's so good with his own kid, Annie. She can grow and talk to plants just like he can. It's cute to watch."

Lucien: "I don't think a kid should be raisin' another kid, but, I'm glad ya had someone good. N'he's okay. I read this is good for kids. A gap in age keeps there from bein' a rivalry or some shit. I dunno how I'd - ya know. They're not about t'be blood related." Penka would never be an option again.

"Somethin' t'think about." Cameron was given a soft smile.

Cameron: "I don't think so either. I meant more the company part. I didn't have to be alone, and there's someone there you can connect with that you wouldn't have or get to experience. My brother had a pretty big impact on my life even outside of taking care of me. The part about him raising me was more of a personal anecdote." He smiled softly in return.

"I'd like to think we'll be better parents than our own, tho.  Our kids will get to be kids and enjoy it. I'd like to look into it with you, when we think we're ready for that."

Lucien: Sometimes, after years-long gaps in seeing Cameron, it was difficult to read his tone. He felt he maybe struck a nerve, but kept his mouth shut and moved on.

"If ya stick a weddin' ring in gumbo t'surprise me, just know, I'll probably swallow it."

His laugh was soft. "There's an order t'things I used to... to really hate. Shit they stay 'bout gettin' older's true. Can't talk 'bout kids 'til we talk 'bout other things. This is like, day... two," he laughed.

Cameron: "I wouldn't want to risk it," Cam grinned. "I know," he shrugged, "you're the one who brought up adoption, I'm just saying I'm not opposed, if, or whenever, we're ready." He shrugged again and draped his towel over his shoulders. Then he slid from the counter with a small hop, and he made his way to the bathroom door.

"I'm gonna borrow some of your clothes," he declared with a cheeky grin over his shoulder. "Didn't bring any clean ones with me."

Lucien: "Really?" He looked over his shoulder. "Thought ya had some." He'd hate to assume something was his and might be his ex-husband's. The thought almost made him shudder. A faux pas like that you couldn't come back from, so he wouldn't ask if that green vest in the bedroom was his or not - he would almost swear it was. Almost.

"I know what I brought up. Just tryin' to... understand. That's all." He followed behind on the hunt for clothes and pile the chaos for washing.

Cameron: "Well, even if I did, maybe I just wanna wear something of my boyfriend's." He winked. "Got anything you think I could use?"

Then he paused and slowed a little once they were in the bedroom again.

"I missed my opportunity to adopt Almika," Cam explained, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "I wasn't ready, and when a family wanted to adopt her, it felt very selfish of me to make her wait until I might be ready."

Lucien: "I think... I think that puts ya in the right direction. No one's - I guess some, but I mean, most people ain't ready t'be a parent. I sure as shit wasn't. But I mean, makes ya grow up. Wish I could change some shit in my life, but I wouldn't change havin' her."

Cameron: Cam smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, and I knew it wasn't the right time. She deserves a life with a loving family, not waiting for me to figure my shit out."

He smiled and nodded in agreement. "She is pretty great. I'm glad I get to spend more time with her now." As unfortunate as the situation was that brought about her birth, Lucien's response reminded him just how Lucien had matured.

Lucien: Lucien looked more like a dog in that moment, tilting his head. His own smile slowly returned, almost as wide as Cameron's.

"Why ya lookin' at me like that?"

Cameron: "I dunno," Cam shrugged and turned back so he could approach Lucien. He leaned up when he was close enough and stole a playful kiss from his lips. "I just.... like being able to call you my boyfriend. Feels nice. Right." It filled his stomach with butterflies, in fact, which caused him to steal one more kiss, because he could.

Lucien: Lucien returned the kiss. As though they had always been together. In some aspects, it felt that way.

"Then go 'head n'say it again, baby. Call me your boyfriend." His arms came to rest on his lower back.

Cameron: Cam leaned into Lucien, his smile growing as he reached up to cup Lucien's neck. He studied the other for a moment, admiration in his eyes, and he trailed his thumbs along that handsome jaw.

"You're my boyfriend," he grinned, enjoying how much easier it felt to say it.

Lucien: His grin revealed subtle signs of aging, brought on by many lazy days sunbathing. Had Cameron always been pale? To memory, the answer was yes, but he wondered now if that was bias.

"Ya like that? One more time."

Cameron: "I do, I like that a lot," Cam hummed, and he reached up to cup Lucien's cheeks with both hands. He grinned and tugged Lucien down to touch their foreheads together. "Lucien Rhys Pendergast, you are my boyfriend." He chuckled and placed a playful kiss on the end of Lucien's nose.

Lucien: "Oh, man. That's the best thing ya ever said. I think. 'I love you' is a good one. 'Fuck me' is great. I really, really like that one." Cameron was squeezed in both hands, slowly pulled off the ground into his arms.

Cameron: "Don't worry, I promise to say all of those many, many times," he hummed and wrapped his arms around Lucien's shoulders as he was lifted.

[guiltycrunch]

Hii oc ask game. 11 & 12?

sorry it took me a few days to answer this! since you didnt specify a character i'll answer this for a few of my favorites :D (adding a readmore too bc this got a bit long)

11 - What are they? Are they human? What is their species?

buddy: they're a spiderperson (literal, not a superhero)! they may be like 12 years old but theyre almost 8 feet tall for funny number reasons

kim: avian woman. shes got big wings and the shoulders to match those. also earwings bc theyre very cute and fun. shes meant to be based off the hooded crow but her wings are purple instead of gray bc it fits her general color scheme better

charles: this ones just a guy he just cant die

blazegirl: fucked up practically a demigod catgirl who eats people for funsies. oldest oc i still have my belovedest

most of my other ocs are just human (hibiki, ayano, saaya, and their associates) or have significance to a project i want to work on someday that i dont want to post about them online too much at this point in time (pilli, sei, gam, and their associates)!

12 - What are they pt 2! Are they a protagonist in the story? A villian? A hero?

buddy, kim, charles: all of them are actually RP characters so they dont really have these qualities of hero vs villain or protagonist! they just do what they think is right, which has not always been the right thing (gestures at like. everything about kim before the story reboot)

blazegirl: oh this girl is the hero of her own story and a villain of her victims' ones. she just kills and maims and has like zero remorse about it, and because she has literal plot armor she cant be held accountable for any of it. she could mellow out a bit and go on a more normal diet with less human on it if she hung out more with normal people like hibiki and ayano

hibiki & ayano: hibikis always had a more central role in their story so i guess hes the Main protagonist while ayanos the side protagonist. their story has gotten far less intense over the years and went from Dramatic Crime Thriller to like. a casual romance manga. with some crime undertones. think the way of the househusband

unnamed tenant: this person is a protagonist and i guess a hero of their own story that i came up with after talking to a friend about how annoyed i was about a current tumblr trend. still working on their story but i am already very invested and might actually try to make it into a game someday

[amicidomenicani]

Question Dear Father Angelo, is there a term of "reasonableness" for suffrage masses? That is, for how many years is it necessary (ie appropriate, recommendable, desirable, advised) to have Masses said? Or perhaps, more than years we should talk about masses, because you can decide to spread 50 masses one a year (on the occasion of the anniversary) or to concentrate them one a month for 4 years. Obviously the "term" is very subjective and depends on the sensitivity of family members and their religiosity, however is there a time frame that can be considered reasonable? For example: my father has been dead for almost thirty years and my mother continues to have masses celebrated for suffrage (at least 2 a year), the same for the grandparents, who have died about 35 years ago. In addition, the Gregorian Masses were celebrated at the time. I am not impatient with this practice. I would just like to understand better, if and when it will be my turn, how long to remember to have masses of suffrage celebrated. In other words: is there a period of time beyond which it is believed that the celebration of the holy masses of suffrage for the person (s) they are dedicated to is a little overabundant? I know they wouldn't be wasted because they would benefit other souls. However, it is one thing to think of dedicating masses to a person, wishing that they will go to his benefit and another thing is to knowingly dedicate masses to suffrage for forgotten or insufficiently remembered souls (which I would also like). Maybe I'm asking too much? Or do I ask to know the thought of God and to know when he has forgiven the loved one? Obviously, if you have the grace to survive your loved one for many years, you have a lot of time to think about her and to dedicate masses to her, but if God's designs arrange otherwise, will I leave this earth with the remorse of not having done enough for my loved ones? Thank you. John Response from the priest Dear John, 1. just as there is no limit in loving parents and loved ones, so there is no limit even in remembering them after their death. It has been 35 years since your grandparents passed away. But for your parents their memory is very vivid. They cannot forget those who loved them and sacrificed themselves for them. I understand their feelings very well: they cannot pass the anniversaries of their death without feeling the need to do something for them. Thus our Christian and Catholic faith helps us to overcome even the barrier of death and to establish true communion with our dead. With the celebration of Mass in suffrage, we know that we are giving them the greatest good: Jesus Christ himself, His sacrifice and the application of His merits so that all their sins may be blotted out. 2. You say: after 35 years they may no longer need our votes. We hope so, but we don't know. Therefore it is right to do what we feel is our duty. 3. But wouldn't it be better to celebrate all suffrage masses immediately without distributing them over a very long period of time? No, I think your parents' behavior is right. First of all because in this way the memory always remains alive and the feeling of gratitude always current. Furthermore, because communion with them must be continually revived. Finally, because for their purification God takes into account the suffrages that will be celebrated in the future. Saint Peter says that for God "a thousand years are as one day" (2 Pt 3,8). He takes this into account in the same way that he accorded his grace to the righteous of the Old Testament in anticipation of the merits of Jesus Christ. 4. It should also be added that if the people for whom suffrage is carried out do not need it, that suffrage is not only destined for others, but is especially beneficial to those who have offered it. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says that "our prayer for them can not only help them, but also make their intercession effective in our favor" (CCC 958).

There is always a blessing that falls on those who are concerned about making suffrages. And I believe that this is also the element that secretly pushes certain people to never stop having suffrages celebrated. The day on which Mass is celebrated for their loved ones is always a special day, a blessed day. You too will notice when the time comes to have Masses celebrated for your parents. You will never be able to do without it. Thank the Lord for giving you parents who also give you this beautiful testimony, which is worth more than many words. I wish you well, I remind you to the Lord and I bless you. Father Angelo 27 February 2017 | A priest answers - Liturgy and pastoral care - Liturgical section

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

[cloud-9ine]

Through a Golden Lens (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - hawks x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha 

⤷ warnings - some language, hawks flirting, reader’s cynicism 

⤷ summary - reader is a bitter, overworked photographer at a hero press agency with little patience for her newly assigned muse- hawks

⤷ word count - 4.5k+

⤷ notes - i have lots of ideas so this is probably going to be a multi-part series. also new to tumblr so this might not be the best

⤷ pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

“Mr. Hawks! Please look this way!” his heavy lidded eyes rolled to the side as another blinding flash burned through his vision. 

“You look perfect, thank you!” it was hard to smile for their benefit, but he managed. Hawks had attended countless of these events for the press. It had been exhilarating at first, with the rush of adrenaline from the cameras and the lights and the endless stream of compliments solidifying his place in the public eye.

Nowadays, it was less thrilling. After a while, they all seemed the same- each one blurring into a senseless flare of cameras and hollow accolades.

He was bored, to say the least.

“Mr Hawks, would you like to come and see? I’d love to hear your opinion on this set!” with a practiced, easy smirk he nodded. It was easier to pander to the artist than to criticise their work. 

He looked good, but when did he not? The shoots were easy to glide through. All he had to do was pull a boyish grin, ‘make love to the camera’ as the photographers always liked to spout. It didn’t really matter what he did: the public would eat up anything with his face slapped on to the front. They all looked the same to him, anyway.

“Looks good,” he wondered why people were so easily satiated by shallow praises, but as he stared at the younger lady’s blush, he couldn’t help but realise that maybe it was him who had something to do with it.

Hawks couldn’t help his gaze from drifting to the door. His skin prickled in the humidity of all the moving bodies in one enclosed space and he longed to take a step outside and stretch his wings in a way that wasn’t to pose for a magazine. 

For a moment, he felt like his prayers had been answered when the door opened, letting in a stream of natural light to breach the artificiality of the modelling room. 

”(L/N)! You were supposed to be here over three hours ago!” the woman in front of him exclaimed, ripping the camera away from his view and marching to the figure that appeared in the light. He blinked in surprise: this entire shoot he hadn’t heard her raise her voice above anything but a low mumble when conversing with him, and now she was positively fuming.

You stared down at your co-worker through honey-tinted shades, expression unamused.

“Yeah, and I was also supposed to be out of this job three years ago. We don’t all do what we’re supposed to, cupcake.”

For a moment, Hawks thought you were a model. Tasteful cream turtleneck tucked into heavily creased mocha skirt, caramel beret perched on your head. There were a few metal, classy looking rings wrapped around your fingers, but as far as he could see, no wedding ring. It was pretty standard style for those who worked in the arts, but somehow you wore it so well. 

Your hair was a little dishevelled, and the dark circles under your eyes combined with the coffee cup in your hand were obvious signs of a rough night. His eyes locked on to the loopy black handwriting on the brown band around the cup.

(L/N) (Y/N)

You were no model, but Hawks couldn’t see the difference.

His wings beat lightly behind his back as he glided over, weaving through the other photographers and models scattered around the area. 

“Hey there, I’m Hawks,” he said smoothly, voice saccharine as he spoke to you. Your attention turned to him as you glanced at him from above the frames of your sunglasses, seemingly unimpressed.

“This the new boytoy, Mizuki?” you asked, eyes raking up and down his figure. Hawks was never one to shy away from the gaze of others, but the way you were inspecting him made him feel so exposed.

“Show some respect,” Mizuki muttered, voice lowered at Hawks’ presence but glare still piercing. You sighed, sparing one last glance at Hawks before snatching the camera out of Mizuki’s hands, leaving her scrambling for the device as you walked away.

“Lemme see what you’ve got already,” Mizuki’s face grew red, half from anger towards you, and half because of the embarrassment of being diminished in front of Hawks.

“(L/N) y-you can’t just come in three hours late and take over! I’ve already done the shoot and Hawks has already expressed that he is pleased with the outcome,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and shooting the shorter woman a glare over your shoulder.

“There’s no way you’re gonna force me to come into work and make me sit here doing nothing,” you sneered, waving the camera around almost teasingly, “you wanted someone actually skilled to do this shoot, and here I am. Let me do my thing,” without waiting for a response, you left, thumb fumbling with the dial that allowed you to scroll through the photos.

Hawks was impressed. You hadn’t bat an eye when you saw him, and while you were very clearly very late, you were confident in your skills and obviously took your job seriously.

“Who was that?” he questioned, wings spreading slightly as his eyes chased after you. Mizuki bowed her head, remorse filling her expression.

“I apologise for her impertinence. That’s (L/N), she was who your original photographer was supposed to be today, but when she didn’t show up I had to take over,” she huffed, “she’s been like this for about a year now, and the boss is prepared to fire her if she keeps it up. So you���d think she’d be able to pull her at together for you, Mr. Hawks...”

After a while, Hawks tuned out her whining, eyes curiously trained on you, surveying your furrowed brows and expression pinched with annoyance as you studied the photos. Although they looked good enough to him, it appeared that you didn’t share the same sentiment. 

Hawks didn’t have time to avert his eyes when you turned your head, gaze locking on to his. You raised a slightly suspicious brow, but otherwise didn’t entertain his actions. 

“Mizuki, why would you use cool lighting?” you called over your shoulder, not even sparing the decency to turn around and face the person you were addressing. Mizuki frowned, moving to your side. Like a magnet, Hawks did the same, peering over your other shoulder. You eyed him from the corner of your vision for a second before tapping the screen. 

“What do you mean?” you sighed at your co-workers words, evidently frustrated.

“Considering you have bird boy over here in dark academia, accented in warmer yellows, using cool lights will bring out too much of a contrast. We need to match the accent colours with warmer lighting, or use a overlay,” you muttered, seemingly addressing yourself more than the two of them. Mizuki just shook her head.

“That would just oversaturate the image,” you snorted, giving her the same patronising look an adult would give a child if they tried to outsmart them.

“Not necessarily. I could spot-reduce saturation in highlight areas during editing. Or, if you really want your contrast, I could neutralise the warmer shades by using a blue, or compliment them using a red,” Hawks didn’t miss the way you said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’. Mizuki looked agitated, her frown growing deeper.

“Even so, we only have white backdrops. That would be a jarring contrast. You’d need something darker or more clustered to make it work. If you wanted a backdrop change you probably should’ve come earlier,” she spoke with a formality that obviously stemmed from Hawks next to her, but you paid no mind. You were silent for a moment, and Hawks could see your eyes narrowing as you were thinking.

“I need a natural background, huh?” you mumbled, thumbing the buttons on the camera. With a shrug, “alright, bird boy, come on, we’re leaving,” Hawks blinked in surprise as you spun on your heel, a grin breaking onto his face. Finally, he got to leave.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you shot him an irritated look.

“Don’t call me that. I’m 22, not 40,” his feathers ruffled up. “Hey, I’m also 22! What a coincidence, right?” he grinned, winking at you. You just responded by rolling your eyes.

Mizuki spluttered, trying in vain to get either one of you to stop as Hawks trailed after you.

“L-Look, you can’t just leave-” you turned, shoving the camera back into her hands, a mirthless smile on your face.

“Watch me,” your voice was cold, goading her to try and stop you, “bird boy, out, now.” Hawks didn’t have to be told twice. Some of the others whispered and muttered as they realised what was going on, but they all fell quiet when you shot them a sharp glare.

He breathed in the fresh air with a content sigh, his chest feeling lighter now he was out the cramped room. The amber glow from the late afternoon sun kissed his tanned skin as he stretched his arms above his head, his forearms flexing slightly under his dark blazer. His eyes shut in bliss and head tilted back, exposing his sharp jawline.

You eyed him slightly, eyes trailing across his features. Now that you had actually left, you were a little lost on what your plan was. You didn’t regret storming out of there, though, nor did you even consider turning back to apologise.

You took your own camera out of the dark camera bag slung across your body, careful not to scratch it on the tripod, and focused the lens on Hawks. It was smaller, a little more compact than the ones Mizuki and the others were using, but you found that it was much better suited for portrait work. 

The click of the camera shutter brought Hawks out of his stupor, eyes snapping open and immediately landing on you. Your attention had already been diverted to the screen, studying your work. 

“The modelling room is stuffy, I’ll give you that,” you mumbled, zooming in on his face, “but you can stretch while we walk,” Hawks leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the shot.

“Aw, you make me look so good, I’m flattered!” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be,” you took a large sip of your coffee, moving down the pathway as you thought. Hawks scrambled after you, his wings puffing out when he reached your side. You couldn’t help but gaze at the bright red feathers as he unfurled his wings, a small, happy chirping noise rumbling at the back of his throat once they were fully spread behind your back. They were warm, you noticed, feeling the heat through your turtleneck. 

Your vision was filled with a cheeky smirk painted on full lips, Hawks’ face appearing in front of your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you sized him up.

“See something you like?” you rolled your eyes as he purred. 

“Not in the slightest, bird brain,” his wings beat behind his back, hand clutching the fabric on his chest.

“Oh, how you wound me!” Hawks cried, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly, which you quickly covered with your coffee cup. 

“I’m sure you’ll face a villain that will do greater damage than I could,” he hummed, angling his face towards the sun. 

“So, where are we headed?” you chewed on your bottom lip, slinging your camera over your shoulder. 

“It can’t be anywhere with lots of traffic, you attract a lot of attention, you know?” it was a rhetorical question, but Hawks’ chest still puffed out in pride at your words.

“Thanks, it’s because of my raging-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “either way, I have a pounding headache and I do not have enough shits to give to put up with your fan girls today,” with a sigh, you rubbed your temples. Hawks stared at your clenched teeth.

“Hey, why do you-” “I think I know where we can go,” he frowned.

“You know it’s not polite to interrupt people like that-”

“Sunflowers.” your tone dripped finality as you faced Hawks, a brazen determination in your eyes he hadn’t seen until now. It made his breath hitch in his throat.

Breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and eyebrows furrowed when you sped your pace, gulping down more of your coffee.

“Uh, what?” you waved a hand dismissively.

“There’s a sunflower field in Fukuroi City, I think it’s west from here,” the tiniest of grins etched onto your features, “it’s gonna be a lot more interesting than the rest of those blank background. Plus, the yellow will compliment your clothes, and with the sun low in the sky I’ll get my perfect warm lighting,” you explained. Hawks wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make, but the idea seemed charming, and it was more exciting than being perpetually flanked by a white screen.

“Sounds good,” he chirped, “although, to be honest, you could take me out anywhere and I wouldn’t mind,” you rolled your eyes. 

“That’s a shame, because I don’t intend to hang around any more than I have to,” Hawks pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, I wanna know more about you!” you bristled.

“Good for you.” the two of you fell into a beat of silence before Hawks smiled, undaunted.

“I’m sure I can win you over somehow,” shaking your head in disbelief, you lifted the cup to your lips, before looking down disappointedly when you realised it was empty.

“I don’t have enough coffee for this,” you muttered. Hawks’ expression brightened. 

“That’s an easy fix: your agency is around here so you must know there area pretty well,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if he was on a casual lunch date and not in the most expensive outfit you’d seen in your entire life, “what’s the best place to grab a coffee?” for a moment, you looked taken aback, before shaking your head.

“Best café in these parts is the Sunset Hour,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “but as much as I have no inhibitions regarding bunking off work, that’s a little too far away. I need to take this pictures before the end of the day or Mizuki’ll submit those crappy ones she took in the studio,” Hawks nodded in understanding, smile never faltering for a second.

“Well I gotta get you your caffeine fix somewhere, so what’s the second best?” your expression scrunched in thought for a moment, before you jutted a thumb over your shoulder.

“There’s a Starbucks across the road,” he snickered seeing your blank expression.

“Not exactly where I would want our first date, but I suppose it’ll do,” rolling your eyes, you shoved the empty cup to his chest, which he gripped almost instinctively. 

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then,” Hawks grinned, sending your empty cup on a feather to the nearest bin before chasing after you as you crossed the road. You didn’t spare him a single glance when he appeared at your shoulder, nor when he reached over above your head to open the Starbucks door from behind you.

“So you’re saying we can have our first date somewhere else?” with a shallow sigh, you shook your head.

“What I’m saying is that there’s not gonna be a first date. Not between us,” his chest tightened. God, you were so mean. He’d be into that.

The inside of the Starbucks was a mix between modern, western architecture and traditional Japanese woodwork. The equipment was all cutting edge, and the tables and chairs were made with a sleek mahogany, but the windows were framed with bamboo shutters, and the backroom was separated with shoji sliding doors. It was an curious blend, one that you studied with an interest. The deep, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans heavily imbued the air, filling your nose with the aroma of something far more familiar. 

Given it was the late afternoon, and most people tended not to drink caffeine after 2pm, the patrons were few and far in between. Good for you, at least. It meant you wouldn’t get- “Hawks? Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture?” your head turned at the voice that rung out.

Two high school girls stood to your left, hands clutched together in front of their chests and a dark pink coating their cheeks. With a small sigh, you took a step forward in the small queue. Hawks smiled with all the faux charm in the world, an obvious change in his demeanour as his pride spiked.

“Of course! And just as it happens, I have my personal photographer here who can make sure your photos look amazing as you two do!” it took you a moment to register what he had said through the excited squeals of the girls before he clutched your shoulders and pulled you forward, causing you to stumble slightly. 

“Your what?” he sent you an audacious smirk, willing you to play along as one of the girls handed you her phone. Your first instinct was to decline, but as you met the eyes of the girls, so eager and bright, you couldn’t find it in you to disappoint them. 

Taking a couple steps back, you lifted the phone, slightly angling it so the picture looked more natural, and not that of a celebrity and their fans (even if it was). You squinted angrily at the poor lighting, but tried to rectify it the best you could. The girls looked a little tense, but Hawks was a natural. A liberal smirk played on his lips and shoulders rolled back, relaxed. Even with the low lighting, the highlights on his cheekbone and jawline were indescribably perfect, and you weren’t sure if the credit should go to you or his god-like genes.

“Wow, that’s perfect!” one of the girls cried, her body appearing by your side. You hadn’t even noticed her moving, “thank you so much!” you just nodded, handing her back her phone and crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at Hawks.

“If that’s all, ladies, we best be ordering,” they nodded frantically at Hawks’ words, sharply bowing and spouting their thanks to the two of you countless times. They left the Starbucks, but even outside you could still hear them fawning over the picture. He faced you with a grin, but you couldn’t muster up a smile.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m your personal photographer,” you sneered. He pouted, looking genuinely disappointed for a second. “What, you don’t wanna be mine?” “Not in the slightest.” 

“What will be your order, Miss?” the barista had directed the question at you, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. You weren’t surprised, but a small swell of annoyance grew in your mind.

“Can I have a mocha with a double shot of expresso?” Hawks chuckled.

“Might as well have an expresso, you know. You’re basically just taking a shot of caffeine,” you shrugged.

“It’s my favourite drink. I like the chocolate taste,” he looked at you with round eyes, a small squeeze in his chest.

“And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’ll have the same, then,” he didn’t miss the way your eyes darted to him. The barista nodded, tapping for a couple seconds before turning back.

“That’ll be 660 yen,” “I’m paying,” Hawks blurted, even before you could offer. You were silent, a small nod in the affirmative rocking your head. As he handed over the bills, he chuckled. “You know, not that I mind, but usually couples would argue over who’s paying,” you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not a couple,” you watched the barista prepare your drinks, more of a way to occupy yourself rather than a genuine interest, “besides, you’re a lot richer than I am. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m sure you can lose 600 yen and still be good,” he hummed happily.

“No disagreements there.” “Are you two eating in or taking out?” the barista asked, in the midst of securing the plastic lids to the top of the cups. Hawks’ eyes sparkled as he turned to you with an excitement you assumed only appeared in children.

“Hey, we can-” “Take out,” you responded, giving a now deflated Hawks a challenging look, “I will leave you here if I have to.” the blonde grinned. “You wouldn’t. You need me for the pictures,” he sang, voice jovial.

“I don’t care about you that much. The sunflowers are probably less annoying subjects anyway,” oh. With no warning, his heart beat sped up, his wings puffing out slightly. Sure, he wouldn’t mind if you were a little nicer to him, but your insults were like a breath of fresh air. There was no doubt that Hawks loved the limelight, loved the popularity he got, but the relentless ass-kissing got old after a while. You kept him on his toes. Even if he was just constantly chasing after you every time you brushed him off, he didn’t care. 

“Put those away, bird brain,” it was then he realised his wings had spread further than he intended, stretched out on either side of him. One was curled right around his face, and he almost felt himself blushing as he pulled them in. It was just animal instincts, he assured himself. 

The rest of the journey was filled with a one-sided conversation of him talking and commenting on what was around you, with no response from you except the occasional witty retort or light-hearted jab at his expense, each one making his heart flutter. It wasn’t too long before you had arrived, the chain link fence around the plot stretching high above your head and corroded with orange rust. 

Rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers stretched to the horizon, an immense display of summer vitality. The fragrance was potent, a sort of cloying sweetness that you didn’t hate. And just as you were about to enter, you knew you had made a mistake. 

“Oh.” Hawks stared at you incredulously, attention switching from your taken aback expression to the sign posted on the gate.

“You didn’t check to see it was open?” you looked up at him, allowing him to survey a tinge of remorse he hadn’t recognised until this point. 

“Look, how was I supposed to know? This place has always been open at this time since I was a little kid,” you rubbed your arm, brows furrowed. Hawks sighed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well, the sun’s too low to go anywhere else outside,” he shrugged, “it’s no biggie, I guess. Those other photos weren’t too bad. Hey, now that we’re free, do you want to- what are you doing?” your foot was halfway in the gaps in the gate, the wedges on your heels making it hard to climb.

“I’m not wasting my day for nothing,” you growled, fingers curling around the metal, “get climbing, bird boy,” with a soft sigh, smile gracing his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, Hawks spread his wings.

“I think you’re forgetting something that’ll make this a lot easier,” you felt a cool draft on your back as Hawks flapped his wings, the feeling being quickly replaced by the warmth of his chest as he pulled you in. A foreign emotion coiled in your stomach, but you convinced yourself that it was just the flight.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other supporting your knees, and all Hawks was thinking that such a gentle flight never felt so calming. 

Your feet tapped against the soft soil, sinking in to it slightly when the hero placed you down. You nodded your thanks.

“Let’s go over there, I want the sun coming in from the right,” Hawks nodded, content to just follow your orders. You pulled the tripod from your bag and set it up, adjusting it to your liking as Hawks looked around, trying to think of a pose. 

Once everything was ready, you turned your attention to Hawks.

“I want to humanise you,” he grinned curiously as you walked over.

“What do you mean by that?” he nearly gasped when you grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side and slightly up, towards the sun. You took a step closer, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip, hands trembling as you tugged slightly, trying to mess it up a little.

“All the photos I’ve seen on you always put a huge emphasis on either your wings or your hero status, and I don’t really see why,” you mumbled, placing one hand on his jawline while the other fixed his hair to your liking, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes, “I think that just creates a divide. If they wanted you to seem angelic they should play that up, not just have it the norm,” you huffed, “anyway, I wanna put the emphasis on you and not your wings. So ideally if you could tuck them behind your back that would be wonderful,” 

Hawks nodded, disappointment filling him as you stepped away. He made sure not to move as he awkwardly folded his wings over each other and pulled them in, glancing at you with a look of apprehension. You just nodded in approval, leaning down to your camera. 

You took plenty of shots, allowing him plenty more opportunities to feel your hands on him (and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it). 

“Hey, why were you so late today?” Hawks dared to question while you were analysing your photos. You were perched on a bench, appreciating your work. The late sun cast a golden sheen on his skin, the spattering of glimmering rays highlighting his face in all the right places. 

“I was sleeping,” you responded, deleting an out of focus shot. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” “Just as it sounds. Figured if they were gonna make me work so I could only have three hours of sleep a night it was gonna be on their time, not mine,” he frowned, taking a seat next to you.

“They shouldn’t work you that hard,” you shrugged with a hollow laugh, blank gaze in your eyes. 

“What am I gonna do? Have them fire me? As much as I hate this job it’s the only thing that pays for my coffee in the morning,” he was silent as you stood up, stretching your arms behind your bag before tucking everything back in your bag. 

“Did you want to be a photographer?” he questioned, only to be met with a forlorn smile.

“Maybe at one point.” the two of you lapsed into silence before you sighed.

“Well, I’ve gotta submit these to Mizuki, and I’m sure you need-” Hawks caught your wrist, spinning you back around.

In the glow of the sunset, you looked almost ethereal. Your eyes gleamed, and cheeks warmed in the orange flare. Sunflowers framed your form, and the words caught in his throat, nearly stopping him from saying anything at all.

“Come work for me.” he blurted. You snorted.

“No.” all he could do was smile as you hopped back over the fence, not waiting up for him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part♜Pt.11

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst & Fluff

↳ (6.8k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and death, character death

➟ A/N: This is the final part! Thank you all for reading this series and for giving it so much love <3

gif credit.

➟ Full Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10[M] Part 11

“You saw someone outside the house last night?” 

Seokjin’s arms are crossed, wide eyes swaying from you to Namjoon. 

You nod in response, “The way they were dressed, it really blended them into their surroundings. I thought maybe the lack of sleep was playing with me, but then Namjoon saw it too…” 

You peer over at your husband, who hums. “We couldn’t find them afterwards.” 

Seokjin shakes his head, appearing to still be caught within bafflement. Jimin suddenly emerges, his eyes drinking in the distress in the room. 

“I’m assuming there’s no good news?” He wonders, and Namjoon turns, raising an eyebrow in his direction. 

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing.” He sighs, roughly running a hand through his locks, “He keeps saying it over and over again, that we’re fools to think he’s pulling the strings…” 

Namjoon lets out a deep exhale, back sinking against the wall. That’s when he catches it, a sharp glint residing behind Seokjin’s glasses. 

“What?” He immediately asks as the man raises his head, shaking his head. 

“He wasn’t too forthcoming with me either, but….” His eyes suddenly sway and Namjoon follows the gesture, “He seems to really hate you.” 

You stare at Seokjin wide-eyed. 

Before you have a chance to retaliate, he beats you to it. “I’m not saying that it’s because of you per say, but more so because of your lineage….” 

“Being a L/N?” Jimin ponders, and Seokjin hums, furrowing his brows. 

“It seems he wasn’t quite happy with your marriage to Namjoon and from the looks of it, Taehyung wasn’t either.” 

Although you can somewhat grasp what Seokjin is implying, his next question catches you off guard. 

“How was Yonghwa killed, Y/N?” 

Your mouth opens and closes from the straightforwardness, but you can see Seokjin’s gears turning, so you ultimately decide not to hesitate. 

The history of your families is known to many. Trade and manufacturing seeking to forge a union between their two sectors. Yonghwa and Namjung were supposed to go through with the deal, but all hell broke loose on the fateful day when Yonghwa was found on the ground in a pool of his own blood with Namjung being visibly shaken. Revenge was rampant between the two families, your marriage to Namjoon ultimately becoming the peace offering to end years of hatred. 

“Yonghwa was murdered.” You state in a monotone voice, as if told the story numerous times, “The day he and Namjung seeked a union, Yonghwa found out that the Kim’s were building weapons they hadn’t agreed upon.”

“Yonghwa therefore decided not to go through with the union, but was murdered by Namjung who wanted to cover up his tracks.” 

After you finish explaining, your eyes drift up. Namjoon is staring at you in disbelief, orbs oscillating. 

“What is it?” You immediately ask. 

Seokjin relaxes his narrowed eyes and clears his throat, “Yonghwa was killed...but not at the hands of Namjung.” 

Namjoon continues, “The L/N’s were involved in illegal exchange through their trades, and Namjung found out during the time he was making a deal with Yonghwa. He attempted to reason with Yonghwa, but he was held at gunpoint.” 

“Through the scuffle they had, Yonghwa ended up accidentally shooting himself.” Jimin finishes, confusion drawing from your eyes. 

“W-What?” Your eyes glance at the two of them frantically, “But there’s no way, Yonghwa was found in a pool of his own blood.” 

“And Namjung was left shaken.” Namjoon adds, “He meant to forge a union, not kill the head.” 

“That’s‒….” You shake your head, utterly lost from the conclusion. It seems too foreign to you, like someone has erased years of history from your book and shoved something else in instead.

A thought lingers in your mind and your eyes snap up, gazing at Seokjin, “Why are you asking me about Yonghwa?” 

Namjoon glances up at him as well, confused from the inquires. Seokjin smiles, crossing his arms. 

“I have a hunch that I need to confirm,” He eyes you, “‒and what if I said that the two of you are telling the truth?” 

You and Namjoon share a glance, the latter speaking, “How so?” 

“Yonghwa was killed. This is the one point in your stories that stays constant,” He begins, “But the part where your stories diverge is the reasoning behind his demise.” 

“Y/N said the Kim’s were building weapons that Yonghwa didn’t agree with, and Namjoon said that Namjung found out about the L/N’s illegal activities. This led to both parties disagreeing with each other, and it wouldn't be so surprising for a fight to ensue, with both taking rightful actions to prevent themselves any harm.” 

“Yonghwa was prepared to kill Namjung at the cost of saving his business while Namjung needed to get rid of Yonghwa’s knowledge.” 

Seokjin pauses for a moment as you and Namjoon nod in response. His smile widens, curling at the corner of his lips. 

“Now the reason why I brought this up.” He clears his throat, a playful look in his eyes, “The moral of this story is that there seems to be no victor and no loser. Both families were involved in things they shouldn’t have been and were prepared to take lethal actions to protect that information, even to the extent of making the other family look historically bad in comparison.” 

Your eyes widen and Seokjin asks the question that has you stumbling for an answer. 

“So why the need for a union?” He wonders, “What was the point for such a union, when both families were already so against each other to the extent of making up false tales?” 

“Why look for peace when there’s no room for it to begin with?” Namjoon replies, and Seokjin nods. 

“Your company’s visible shareholders seem to despise the fact that you married Y/N, and I’m sure other members of the company weren’t thrilled from hearing about her lineage.” He honestly professes, “So why would they suddenly be okay with you marrying a L/N for the sake of a union?” 

“It would have to do something other than their hatred for each other….” Namjoon mumbles, squinting his eyes, “Something important enough that they would purposely need a marriage between me and Y/N.” 

Seokjin hums and Jimin abruptly sputters out an answer. 

“Something like a liability!” 

Namjoon glances at him appalled and he hurriedly rambles before he loses the thought, “Going based off of Seokjin’s theory, Namjoon would be wedded to a L/N, someone who would have created stained connections with her own family because of the marriage and be resented by members of the Kim family.” 

Jimin huffs, “Essentially she would be nothing but a liability to Namjoon’s title as the next heir…..” 

Three sets of eyes stare at him in bewilderment, and Jimin sheepishly smiles from the attention. Seokjin’s pupils light up again, a spark residing within them. 

“But who would benefit from all this?” He mumbles, “Who would benefit most from seeing you fail, Namjoon?” 

Namjoon stares at Seokjin as silence reigns heavy in the room, no clear answer forming within his mind. 

Your lids slowly flutter open. 

The entire room is dark and murky, night long having fallen within a couple of hours. You had long spent hours conversing with the others about Hoseok before ultimately deciding to question him more the next day, with Namjoon coaxing you that all of you weren’t far from understanding his intent. 

Yet your eyes squint through the dark, peering around the room in confusion. There’s sounds of feet shuffling against the hardwood of the floors, faint voices growing louder and louder with their shouting, some tinged with urgency while others not being able to fathom disbelief. 

It doesn’t take long for you to immediately reach for Namjoon, jostling him awake. Once he’s conscious, the two of you are scrambling out of the sheets in an instant, his hand wrapping around yours as you head towards the commotion. 

His backside suddenly halts, freezing in place. 

You catch onto the scent right away. 

It’s putrid and familiar….too familiar. 

Shifting forward, horror sinks into your eyes at the source.

Hoseok’s form is slumped against the front door, eyes lulled back and red soaking the outskirts of his clothes. A trail of scarlet follows him, leading up into the torn apart room he was residing in. 

***

Silence lingers uncomfortably long in the room. 

It’s stifling, tension feeling heavy on your shoulders and muting your words. Slightly fumbling with your hands, your eyes flicker up for the briefest of moments. 

Seokjin is against the wall, arms crossed against the blood stains that litter his torso. He stands opposite from where you and Namjoon are seated, adjacent from where Jimin leans against a table, in a similar condition as his hand balances against his cheek. 

Hoseok’s corpse has been removed, but you wrenched your eyes away from the multiple gash wounds that littered his torso, the overwhelming scent of blood bringing a rise of nausea to surface from your lips. 

Jimin is the first to clear his throat, peering over at you and Namjoon. “You were right, there was someone roaming outside.” 

“He was silenced.” Seokjin sighs, unraveling his arms and placing his hands in his pocket. You catch the slightest hint of remorse in his features, wondering if he was too late in arriving at the incident.  

Jimin shakes his head, “But why….?” 

“And why make it so brutal?” Namjoon’s deep voice cuts in, making Seokjin hum with a grimace. 

“This just proves that he knew something important….” You whisper. 

Seokjin hums, planting an exasperated hand against his temples. Although somewhat cruel, you understand his frustration. 

Hoseok was the only link in finding out who wanted Namjoon killed and sought out for your marriage, and now that he’s gone, you’ve hit a complete dead end. 

There’s a soft knock against the door that results in all of your eyes hiking up. Jimin steps forward, gesturing for you to be at ease as he answers. 

As the door closes, Jimin abruptly blinks, before snapping his eyes up. 

“Namjoon.” 

He stands up right away and Seokjin curiously leans over, “What is it?” 

“It’s a picture…” He states, “A picture of the weapon assumed to be used on Hoseok….”

Seokjin suddenly leans even closer, carefully plucking it out of Jimin’s fingers. He holds the same astonished expression, eyes flickering over in Namjoon’s direction. 

“I think we know who was after you, Namjoon…” 

The picture is passed over to him and you sweep your irises over it too. It’s a simple picture of a knife, but it’s one that has your eyes narrowing. 

“I’ve seen this knife before…” You whisper, mind scattering around for an answer. The intricate details and the curved edge seemed far too familiar, but you can’t wrap your finger on it. 

Your eyes flicker, recognition suddenly dawning upon you. 

“Taehyung!” You snap your fingers, recalling the time he attempted to take your life, “That’s the knife Taehyung had....” 

“It’s a custom knife.” Namjoon states, his gaze steadily hardening, “Only a few were manufactured by the Kim’s.” 

Your eyes threaten to fall out from their sockets. Your gaze oscillates from Namjoon to Jimin and then Seokjin, realizing they’ve already connected all the dots.  

“H-How does this make sense?” You shake your head, “That would mean that someone from your family i-is trying to….” 

Namjoon hums, gaze connecting with your own. There’s something unsettling brewing in his orbs, a fine line between anguish and pure rage. 

“I now understand why Hoseok decided to keep quiet.” He grits, “And why we haven’t been safe here.”

***

Your footsteps are hectic, nearly sprinting through the walls. Your hands shove against your bedroom’s door, eyes falling upon your husband’s turned back right away. 

The sound of a gun cocking has your eyes widening and you immediately scramble forward, hand wrapping around his shoulder. 

“Namjoon.” You softly call out. His brows are still intensely furrowed and jaw tensed, his gaze focused on filling the cartilage to the handgun til it’s stuffed to the brim. 

Concern drips from your stare, and you shake his shoulder again, voice firmer, “Namjoon.” 

He spins around, rummaging through his bag for another gun. You huff, grasping onto him and knocking the weapon out of his hands. 

You force him to look at you. “Namjoon!” 

“What?!” He sharply snarls, but you are unfazed. It’s obvious to you ‒ the way his form is seething with anger, the way his hands tremble as he shoves bullets into his gun, the way there’s an inkling of pain residing within his irises, begging to release him from his torment. 

You don’t say anything, simply softly shake your head in response. Namjoon lets out a scoff, a strained laugh escaping his throat. 

Your arms loop around him, resting your head against his chest. 

“I’m a tool, Y/N.” His shoulders crumble down, “Just a tool.” 

“I know.” You whisper, noticing how his anger dissolves into anguish, his form no longer tensing underneath your hold. He raises his hands to embrace you back, breaths steadying. 

With a deep sigh, he breaks away from you, an appreciative smile looping on his lips. 

You return it, but a new voice draws your attention. 

“You won’t accomplish anything going there like this, Namjoon.” Seokjin leans against the doorframe as Jimin draws closer behind him. You assume they must have followed after you when Namjoon suddenly left the room in a fit of anger, declaring that he was leaving to settle things once and for all with his father. 

His father, who eventually decided that Namjoon wasn’t good enough to be the next heir, who wanted him to be wed to you, placing a heavy liability on his ties and waiting for him to crumble underneath the title so he could have a new heir. 

But he wasn’t able to anticipate that you would turn out to be a spy, and that Namjoon would refuse to leave you, fed up with being used solely for the family business. 

You sigh, keeping a gentle hand on his back. 

“We need to think this through.” Seokjin reminds. 

“But how?” Namjoon shakes his head, “I’ll constantly be in danger‒ all of you will be in danger.” 

He glances between you and Seokjin, with the latter humming, “You’re not wrong about that, but we have to play our cards right.” 

“So what‒” Namjoon jokes, “I should just wait to be killed first?” 

There’s a twinkle in Seokjin’s eyes, a smile widening all the way to his cheeks. 

The moon rises, casting a shadow against the isolated building’s walls. 

You carefully thread through the empty hallway, pacing back and forth. A gun remains strapped to your waist, hidden underneath your clothing as your alert eyes sweep through the vicinity. 

It’s a small building, one that is barely guarded and nearly hidden compared to the others. It carries two floors, one of which contains the norm of offices, only a mere handful of workers that rigorously work throughout the day, but the numbers dwell during the peak of the night, barely a hushed murmur coming across from the doors or walls. 

Namjoon has informed his father that you and him will be temporarily staying in the building for safety reasons after Hoseok’s incident, and that tonight is the night that you’ll be staying in the reclusive area. 

Prior to figuring out pieces of the puzzle, Seokjin had come up with the plan of making you and Namjoon come off as vulnerable, essentially luring his father into the building. Upon Namjoon’s slight persistence, he had suggested that the former confront him about the entire matter. 

You had thought it was risky, too risky in fact ‒ but when Seokjin and Namjoon had abruptly shared a glance through your discussion, you knew there was more to the story than they were letting on. 

Trusting them with the matter, you agreed with the notion and were assigned to guard the area under the pretense of Jimin’s suspicions. You couldn’t figure out who the woman was that Hoseok interacted with, so alongside with ensuring no one gets in, you have the task of keeping an eye out for any unwelcomed surprises. 

It’s dead silent and pitch dark, the majority of the light sources cut off. Your footsteps make no sound against the soft wood, long having trained yourself to go unheard in case you were caught as a spy. 

Your eyes continue to sweep around the area, looking around for movement. 

You suddenly freeze. 

Creak.

Head snapping up, you carefully press your ear against one of the doors in the hallway, listening in again. 

Creak.

Your eyes widen. 

Feet quietly gliding against the ground, you carefully peer into the room through the glass opening, noticing an open window and someone fumbling around with the walls. They seem to stumble as they do, almost seeming lost until you realize that the lack of light source makes it incredibly hard to see. 

Biting your lower lip, you shuffle closer to the door, carefully waiting. 

Light pours through the room. 

Your pupils enlarge, mouth falling agape. A smile curve on her lips as she reaches for the door, but you’re close enough to reach out for her by the time it yanks open. 

Your hand meets her shoulder. 

She jolts, a gasp escaping her lips as she swivels, the light illuminating her fear-stricken features. 

You innocently quirk your head to the side, brows knitting together. 

“Geongmin?”

“Y-Y/N!” She stammers, swallowing hard as if she had seen a ghost. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Although naively surprised, there’s a cutting edge to your tone, taking advantage of her terror. 

“I‒uh, my father!” She hastily says, as if nearly forgotten the answer, “H-He needed me to bring his forgotten briefcase back home.” 

For the briefest of moments, you narrow your eyes. 

You hum understandably, “I see….” 

Granting her a small smile that she hesitantly returns, you take a clueless step back, whirling around. 

You glance around, “I can offer you some help in finding it, if it’s somewhere nearby then‒” 

The sound of a trigger cocking halts your steps. 

Although your voice is laced with tender surprise, your expression says otherwise. “Geongmin?” 

“W-Where is he?” She sputters. You casually swivel around to face her, barely flinching at the gun that is inches away from your eyes. 

“Who is he?” You press forward. 

“My brother!” She nearly yells, your blank expression drawing more unease from her, “Where is he?!” 

A long exhale leaves your lips, “About that….” 

It happens within a flash. Your fist slams into her arm, a cry slipping from her lips and the gun dropping from her hands. You swoop it up in an instant, pinning her against the wall as she’s distracted from the pain. 

You tightly hold her hands within one of your hands, the other pointing the gun at the back of her head. 

Your fingers curve around the trigger, “What has he promised you?” 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

You angle the gun so that it presses lightly against her scalp, her entire form jolting from the action.

Your voice is firm as you ask again, “What has your father promised you, Geongmin?” 

Her breaths are ragged, “H-Heir! The title of h-heir!” 

Tilting your head to the side, you listen to her intently, “M-My father said Namjoon was weak! That he couldn’t handle being the next heir, especially after being married to someone like you!” 

Your shoulders slump down, a deep sigh leaving you. Although her declaration is vile, her words sound confusing, as if fear was taking over her mind completely. 

There’s suddenly a flicker in your eyes, recognition filling you. 

It’s a mere gamble, but you loosen your grip on her, taking a step back. She watches you in astonishment and you drop the gun to the ground, kicking it to the side and away from you. 

The fear doesn’t leave her form in the slightest. 

“Do you desire being the heir?” Your voice has become soft. 

“W-What?” Your question seems to confuse her even more, her mind spinning, “What kind of question is that?!” 

You pursue your lips, noticing how for someone that should desire to kill you, she doesn’t rush towards the fallen gun. 

“Do you want to inherit the business?” 

It’s almost like she wants to break into a fit, tell you that you’re wrong and that you’re merely some spy that’s in the way. 

But the words don’t manage to leave her. 

“What is it that you want to do, Geongmin?” You gently ponder. 

“Why are you asking me all these questions?!” She repeats, sounding frustrated beyond belief. Streaks of tears are streaming down her eyes, her hands trembling. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Because I know obligation when I see it.”

The confusion doesn’t leave her as you step over to pick up the gun again, handing it to her. 

“Here.” You merely say, looking at her puzzled gaze she sends at the weapon, “Finish the mission you were sent on.”

You stand back, right in her aim of fire. Although your expression is confident, you hope she doesn’t notice the faint tremble lodged within your hands, inches away from the gun submerged within your clothing. 

Her eyes are completely blown out, still swimming with confusion. It’s not long before she points it right at you, rage consuming her features in an instant. 

You stare right back at her. 

The gun never fires. 

It slips from her hands, crashing onto the ground as more tears pool from her eyes. 

“I-I c-can’t….” She weakly mumbles, shaking her head. A low sigh of relief leaves you before you bend down, picking up the fallen gun.

Your eyes flicker, “You regret killing him….don’t you?” 

She nods weakly, and a smile curls on your lips. 

“I’m glad you made this choice on your own, Geongmin.” 

You extend your hand towards her, granting her the chance to choose again. She stares at it for a moment, a million thoughts racing through her head. 

She reaches out, clasping onto it. 

Heavy footsteps pound into the room. 

The door is securely locked, before he treads closer, eyes narrowing. 

Namjoon sits in a large chair, his eyes focused onto the table before him. At the sound of footsteps he snaps up, a smirk curving on his lips. 

“Father.” He remarks, “I’m surprised to see you here.” 

His father doesn’t return his smile, simply humming in response. 

“Hoseok was killed recently. You need to be more careful from now on.” He snides, standing across from him, “Especially with that pesky spy living in your quarters.” 

“That is my wife you are speaking about.” Namjoon sharply interjects, voice no longer holding warmth. His father sends him a seething glare, reminding him of the time he declared he wasn’t going to get rid of you. 

“How long do you expect to keep her around? She’s a L/N, for all you know she could have dug around all of our secrets and exploited the information.” He hisses, planting his hands against Namjoon’s table, “She’ll be nothing but a burden to you in the future, you’ll be mocked by her lineage and she’ll destroy your business.”

Namjoon furrows his brows, an amused smile wanting to etch onto his lips. He’s aching to spew his knowledge about how his sister was likely pressured into taking over his space as heir, her mind filled with twisted information about the two of you by the person standing directly in front of him. 

But he keeps it together, intrigue swirling in his orbs instead, “Who would you think was attempting to take my life then? Y/N?” 

“Of course it’s her!” His father roars, “She’s been feeding her family information about us, and now she wants to take over the business by having you killed!” 

“Really?” 

His father stares at him like the simple question in itself was ridiculous. “You should have listened to me before and gotten rid of her.” 

“But my answer wouldn’t change.” He smiles, pressing his buttons further, “She was my wife then, and she is now. What will you do if I wish to stay married to her?” 

His smile doesn’t waver. It seems to do the trick, his father’s face colouring into a shade of red at his son’s stubbornness and only serving to heighten his fear. The notion should fuel his need to get rid of Namjoon, to realize that the son sitting before him isn’t made out to be the tool that he’s always wanted. 

Namjoon’s smile barely moves, even when a gun is pointed in his direction. 

“Then this will be farewell.” 

Two guns aim for him on either side. 

In an instant, his father’s eyes widen. Namjoon continues to smile, watching Seokjin and Jimin step closer. 

Rising from his seat, he clears his throat. 

“I’m not a pawn, father.” He states, “I have my own wishes, and they won’t always line up with my role as heir.” 

He shakes his head, “The hatred between us and the L/N’s is just two families blaming each other to cover up their own tracks, and should have ended ages ago, even before I married Y/N.” 

He walks over to where his father glares at him, “Now it’s time you make a decision too.” 

Namjoon raises his arm as Jimin hands him a computer and Seokjin brings a chair, planting his father down onto it. Opening the screen right in front of the man, his eyes are met with a list of endless codes, but what’s most prominent are the ones that would surely infiltrate into an extensive database. 

His father’s eyes hold terror in them, “This is….” 

“The company.” Namjoon finishes, pointing to the screen, “These codes are functional on many bases and can hack into anything, even something as highly secured as the company’s database.” 

“You’re going to destroy everything.” 

Namjoon’s eyes twinkle, “I’m going to destroy what’s left of it.” 

“You’re insane.” His father snarls, “You’re going to ruin the Kim empire and throw away this goldmine for what?!” 

“My freedom.” Namjoon simply replies, his dark eyes pushing the computer closer to him.  

His father’s face is an angry shade of scarlet, but as metal presses further into his skull, his fingers press against the keys and allow the authorization. At the sight of the last code unlocking, Namjoon’s shoulders visibly relax, an exhale of relief leaving him. 

Seokjin quickly takes it away, packing away the computer into a bag before peering at Namjoon. 

They share the same thought, “We need to find Y/N.” 

Namjoon hums, preparing to leave the area as fast as possible. 

However, he doesn’t notice how his father’s face twitches at the mere mention of you, eyes boring daggers into his son’s skull. 

Namjoon turns and it happens within a flash. 

Jimin is on the ground, scarlet hands clutching onto his leg as a gun is pointed in Namjoon’s direction. Seokjin’s eyes widen in an instant, but he’s too late when multiple bullets are fired, all lodging into Namjoon’s chest. 

There’s no way to describe the terror that strikes you. 

Tears unconsciously roll down your features, a hard knot constricting around your throat. You can only watch in horror as a staggering Jimin and Seokjin huff, dragging Namjoon’s limp form onto a bed. 

Streams of red are dripping down his black suit, three pieces of metal embedded within his chest. Your trembling hands come closer, noticing that he was luckily still breathing. 

“His lungs haven’t been damaged.” Jimin doesn’t hesitate to speak as you peer up at him, “We’re going to need to take the bullets out.” 

Seokjin quickly filters around the room, searching for supplies as Jimin leans against the bed. You notice the trail of blood beneath his legs, eyes widening. 

“Jimin, you’re‒” 

He simply shakes his head, gesturing towards Namjoon first. You hesitantly nod, taking a couple of steps back as Seokjin returns. 

A shaky exhale leaves your lips when Seokjin opens up Namjoon’s shirt, your quivering hands coming up to cover your mouth as you spin away from the sight. 

“Y/N…” Jimin’s gentle voice beckons, but you can’t seem to look behind you. “Y/N, why don’t you wait outside?” 

Although concern is flooding through every fiber of your form, you solemnly nod without hesitation. 

Exiting the room at once, you attempt to calm yourself down, eyes flickering up to see Geongmin staring at you with a troubled gaze. 

She sits with you throughout the silence, your mind completely numbing from the recent events. 

***

Over the course of the next few days, you are dangling between concern and worry. 

You’ve been residing within the Kim household in the duration and haven’t spoken to yet even seen Namjoon during that time. Although relieved that his wounds weren’t fatal, you were told that he was still unconscious and that healing from them would take considerable time. 

In the meanwhile, Seokjin and Jimin had informed you that the person responsible for his state was his father. After getting rid of the remains from the company, something Namjoon had always planned to do, his father had shot Jimin and intended to kill Namjoon. 

In response, Seokjin was forced to take immediate action. 

You took in the news with a bitter taste in your mouth, but were glad to see Jimin slowly recover from the incident. 

Upon returning and being in the household that you and Namjoon had eventually abandoned, you were confronted with the presence of his mother. At first, you were unsure of what to say, not comprehending if she knew about the prior incidents, or if like Namjoon’s father, she held a deep scorn for the two of you. 

However to your surprise, she hadn’t seemed taken aback, instead appearing fatigued, dark circles beginning to round her eyes and creases maring her forehead. It made you think back to the first time you had met the women, her elegance and straightforwardness towards you always catching you off guard. 

She had asked you about how Namjoon was doing and you had given a simple direct response, but there was a sad smile on her lips, one that had made your chest tighten. 

“I don’t hate you, Y/N. If that’s what you’re thinking.” At your perplexment, she continued, “I think it was for the best to let go of the company...at least now we can move on from holding up this Empire with our lives.” 

She faintly chuckled as you remained next to her, silently listening.

A sigh leaves her, “I’m in pain not because of my husband’s death, but because I let it get to this point. To the point where I would have lost my entire family for a mere business.” 

She softly shook her head, “I’m tired, Y/N. I’m very tired of all this.”

Her words had echoed in your mind. She hadn’t spoken to you after that, but Geongmin had soon informed you that she had never seen her mother express so much remorse before. 

With the entire Kim Empire now gone, they were simply just a broken family left behind. 

The breeze blows against your hair, the flowers underneath your toes brushing against your skin. 

Night has fallen and for a considerable amount of tossing and turning, sleep hasn't welcomed you throughout the evening. You ultimately decided it would be best to get some fresh air, desperately needing to relieve some of the restlessness you were facing. 

The pale moonlight shines down on the bed of flowers, the wind whisking past you more crisp during the night. A warm smile tugs on the corner of your lips as you kneel down, gently touching the array of white, lilac purple and petal pink flowers beneath your feet. 

Running your fingers through the stems your hand halts, circling around a certain white flower. You pursue your lips, reaching out and cautiously wrapping your fingers around the base, squeezing it tightly for a moment. 

“I don’t think my mother will be fond of the idea that you stole one of her flowers.” 

You nearly jolt, breath hitching at the sudden voice behind you. That’s when your eyes enlarge, grip loosening immediately. 

Swiveling around, the astonishment doesn’t leave your form as you rise up onto your feet. 

Namjoon stands before you, leaning against a wall with a hand pressed against his chest. He sheepishly smiles when your eyes connect, briefly glancing at the ground for a moment before looking up. 

“You know, these flowers have a history of blooming in the seasons of‒oof!”

He doesn’t get a chance to enlighten you about his knowledge of the plants, your form crashing right against his as you wrap your arms around him. Namjoon lightly chuckles, pushing your strands back and slowly circling his arm around you. Your grip on him only tightens, a fact that he’s quick to remind you of. 

“Y/N.” He strains. 

You suddenly realize your husband had recently suffered having multiple bullets penetrate through his chest cavity. Immediately stepping back, a string of apologies tumble from your lips. 

“I-I’m so sorry!” He grimaces while holding onto the wounds, but still continues to smile at you. Your eyes are drawn to the thick strips of cloth wrapped around the area, tucked underneath the button-down shirt he had clumsily through on around his shoulders.

Your eyes suddenly narrow, “If I didn’t know any better, it would seem that you’re still healing‒…” 

Namjoon sheepishly smiles and your eyes widen. Before you can say anything, Namjoon steps forward and places a finger against his lips. 

“You need to go back.” You hurriedly coax, voice dropping down into a whisper. Namjoon continues to smile, not moving the slightest. 

You press your hands against him, slowly pushing him, “Namjoon, you need rest and‒” 

“I know.” He whispers, grasping onto your hands right away. “I came here to see you.” 

“You were worried...weren’t you?” You flush underneath his gaze, averting your eyes. His smile widens for a brief second, before it drops down and he leans closer to you. 

“Y/N.” 

You look up, eyes connecting with his. You’re taken aback with the stern appearance they take on, narrowing with intent. 

When he speaks, they’re of mere facts, “I’m conscious again, and I’m able to walk…..” 

You hum, not quite understanding what he was intending to say to you. “The company...I’m sure Seokjin and Jimin told you what I did.” 

“You destroyed it.” You state and he nods, “It’s gone now and the Kim’s don’t have any means of continuing on with their busine‒” 

Life flickers into your eyes and at the sight of recognition in your eyes, Namjoon solemnly smiles. 

“You want to leave….” You whisper and he hums. 

“It’s been on my mind ever since, I wanted to ask you in a better manner but given the circumstance…” He glances down at his injury. 

“The moment I woke up, I needed to talk to you about it.” 

“I see….” You mutter, staring down at the ground. Namjoon continues to gaze at you, concern in his eyes. 

At your silence, he ponders, “What are you thinking?” 

“I don’t know, truthfully.” You whisper, “It sounds….wonderful, incredible actually‒ but….” You stare at him, “Can we do that...? Have a fresh new start?”

For some reason, you almost want to laugh, “Are people like us even allowed to have something like that?”

“Maybe not.” Namjoon truthfully says, and you peer up, taken aback from the grim in his voice, “But I don’t see any harm in trying.” 

You silently stare at him. 

You’re not a spy anymore ‒ and Namjoon is no longer the heir. 

You’re finally free, no longer someone else's tools to use. You can be whoever and decide to do whatever you want, no family history dictating it for you anymore. 

The carefree thought brings a smile to your lips, and when you look up to see Namjoon softly smiling, you wonder if he’s pieced it together too. 

Without hesitation, you take Namjoon’s hand. 

Epilogue

The sun brightly shines in between the clouds, spreading across the expansive field. 

It reaches your skin as you bend down, a small basket in your hand as you rummage around for the potatoes you recall planting somewhere. 

There’s a faint rustle from behind you and you blink for a moment, turning around with narrowed eyes. You hear it again, but this time you can see two small legs running towards you. 

A tender smile spread across your features. 

The rustling abruptly cuts off, the sound of loud thud replacing it and low cries begin to echo out instead. 

You rush forward, the basket in your hands long abandoned. 

“Seokmin!” 

The young boy continues to cry, large tears leaving his wide eyes until you bend down, scooping him up into your arms. His cries subside a little by the action and you muse at his clumsiness, acknowledging that it was a particular trait he surely hadn’t gotten from you.

Namjoon emerges seconds later, planting his hands against his knees as deeply heaves.  

“I’m sorry, he was excited to see you and‒” He pants, drawing closer to see Seokmin tucked away in your embrace with dried streaks down his cheeks. “Is he alright?”

You nod, attempting to brush away the hair from the boy’s eyes. Namjoon reaches out and you hand him over, bending down to retrieve your basket. 

You look up to see Namjoon playfully poking one of his cheeks, your son squirming around his arms as small giggles leaves him. 

The display has a smile curving on your lips. 

There was a time when you dreamed about being happy, to live a life on your terms without being at someone’s beck and call, every decision being fueled by your own conscious thought rather than programmed and ingrained obligation. 

However, that’s all it ever was ‒ a dream, a mere fantasy tucked away in the corners of your mind that you had long forgotten about. Yet somehow in some way, you and Namjoon managed to fulfill it. 

It didn’t come to you all at once, a normal life being far from the reality you were uncomfortably close to. That type of life was something that never quite suited the two of you and as a result, you had your fair share of struggles. 

You can still remember the nights you had spent with vicious nightmares, old memories plaguing you and not letting you forget that you still had marks littering your body, your own two hands long having been tainted. It would make you question if you even deserved any of this, deserved to actually be content with what you have. 

You would like to say that the adjusting process was easier for Namjoon, but there were a handful of times where he would wake up in a cold sweat, his whole form quivering next to you. It was those days you truly learned about Namjoon’s past for the first time, of the things he did or more so, was forced to do. 

You started to wholeheartedly believe it, that this ‘life’ you wanted to build together could never be possible and that a part of you will always unconsciously remember times you wanted to forget. 

That was until your son was born. 

At first, it was a whirlwind. You hadn’t expected to get pregnant so soon and you weren’t sure of how Namjoon would react to the sudden news. Fortunately he was ecstatic once you told him and it granted you some sense of reassurance, but you could clearly see it within his warm eyes and you know he could see it reflected in yours. 

Was it even possible for people like the two of you to bring another life into the world? 

You had attempted to push that thought away as far as you could during the process and luckily when Seokmin was born, something had changed within you. 

“Y/N?” 

You blink, noticing Namjoon was staring at you with concern. Seokmin is looking over as well, appearing much better compared to when you found him. 

You shake your head with a soft smile. Leaning down, you redirect your gaze towards your son. 

It still astonishes you that aside from the eyes and the hair, he appears to be an exact replica of his father, “Are you feeling okay?” 

Your son nods, a spark lighting in his eyes. 

“Mom!” He excitedly says, “Dad said‒ Dad said you were a spy!” 

You stare at Namjoon wide-eyed, who looks at his son with the same expression. 

A low chuckle leaves you, “Um, he did…?” 

Namjoon puts Seokmin on the ground and gestures for him to continue playing, turning around to you. 

“Namjoon, we said we would wait.” You whisper. 

“I know‒” He squeezes his eyes shut, “It was just a slip of the tongue.” 

You stare at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh, “It’s alright...he’ll have to find out someday.” 

“Are you referring to the time we’ll give him the chance to choose his own last name?” 

Namjoon gazes at you amused and you share a smile with him. 

“You know, Seokjin and Jimin have been wanting to see him.” He reminds you, “They still can’t believe we named our son after them.” 

“Seokmin is a nice name.” Namjoon raises a brow like he doesn’t believe you and you laugh at his expression, “We should visit sometime soon, especially because….” 

You lean closer to him and Namjoon can only stare in confusion when you whisper in his ear. Immediately, he jolts back from you, staring at you in astonishment. 

“R-Really? Are you being serious?” You nod with a smile and Namjoon is brimming with ecstasy, “Y/N, that’s amazing!” 

You point a finger towards him, “But I want to name this one.”

Namjoon chuckles, pulling you into his embrace, “Of course.” 

[pennylanefics]

Deceived - Theo Raeken | pt. 2

a/n: this part is super long, and i’m not really liking how it turned out 🤷🏼‍♀️

•••

The days following your break up with Theo, the pack takes turns checking up on you. Whether that’s to bring you food, ice cream, to have a movie night, or to just talk and hang out, each made an effort to spend time with you.

You were thankful for them all, going through another break-up was tough, especially since Theo lied to you and deceived you. It hurt much more than Isaac leaving; Theo made it seem like he was trustworthy and really loved you.

All of your problems with Theo were solved, though, when he was pulled into the ground by his sister. You felt slightly happier, knowing he wasn’t around to manipulate anyone else or hurt anyone.

Scott could basically feel the joy radiating from you afterwards. You are much more open and willing to go out and have fun, instead of sitting inside, worried about running into Theo or one of his packmates. But at the same time, you missed him. You missed the moments of tenderness spent together, him comforting you when you need it. But then everything that Scott and Stiles told you returns to your mind.

“You seem different, (Y/N),” Mason comments while the pack was over at Scott’s for a movie night.

“I am,” you smile at him. “Theo’s no longer here, he’s being punished for the things he’s done, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Scott grins at you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his arms.

“No need to worry about him. He’ll be gone for a while.”

Scott was right. It was months before you had to worry about Theo again. You were hoping it would be longer, but Liam brought him back to help with the newest threat to Beacon Hills. After Scott told you that Liam was adamant about bringing him back and helping everyone, you attacked Liam.

Though it didn’t do much considering he’s a wolf and you’re human; you barely did any damage, but he understood why you were angry. He sat you down and explained it all, promising that you wouldn’t have contact with him.

Malia was on your side. She even gave him an extra punch when she attacked Theo, just for you.

Scott made sure you were doing okay through everything, with losing Stiles and now your ex coming back. Through it all, he tried to hang out with you at least three times a week.

“Theo’s asking about you,” Scott brings up while you two enjoy some sundaes from your favorite shop. You pause, mixing your ice a bit out of anxiousness.

“What’s he saying?”

“Wondering how you’re doing, if you’re safe from the Ghost Riders, what I’m doing to protect you from them.”

“Why does he suddenly care about me?” You scoff.

“He says he thought about you a lot when he was underground. Your name kept being repeated in his mind, almost as if he was constantly reminded that he hurt you and betrayed you.”

“Sucks for him,” you shrug. Scott sighs and drops the conversation, knowing you wouldn’t be willing to see him anytime soon. And honestly, Scott wasn’t so sure if he could trust Theo this soon.

—

Graduation time finally rolled around. Stiles has been back for a couple months, unharmed, ready to go off to college. You were getting ready to head to UC Davis with Scott at the end of summer, so you two were going to spend the three months with the pack, going on a small week-long vacation with everyone, making sure you make the most of everything.

“Can you believe we did it?!” Scott yells happily as he comes over to you. The graduation ceremony just ended and you and every student was walking outside to search for their families and take pictures.

“I honestly can’t,” you giggle as he picks you up and spins you. “Allison should’ve been with us.” Scott smiles sadly and nods, looking down at the bracelet you got him, engraved with her initials and death date, with an inscription of her writing on the other side.

“She was. I know it.” You hug him tightly for a few moments before Stiles comes up and joins the hug.

“We did it!!!” He screams. You giggle at his energetic self but someone catches your attention. Theo stands not far off, looking around for his real parents that he reconnected with after coming back.

“Hey,” Scott breaks your gaze. “I know you’re doing great without him, but he’s changed a lot. I would give him another chance.” You raise your eyebrows at your best friend.

“He killed you and manipulated the entire pack for power, and you’re willing to trust him again?” Scott nods with no second thought.

“I trust him again. He’s proven that he’s changed and doesn’t want to do things for himself anymore. He saved my mom, he saved and protected Liam, and he helped Gabe pass peacefully without pain. He’s done good the past few couple months and if you have it in your heart to at least hear him out, please do.” You sigh softly and look back at Theo, who was now hugging his parents, a huge smile on his face.

The rest of the night was spent going out to dinner with the pack, celebrating being done with the chapter of your lives that brought so much pain and sadness, for everyone.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys at my house on Friday for the pizza and movie night?” You confirm with everyone in Stiles’ jeep. Everyone shouts in agreement and you get out. Scott escorts you up to your door.

“Hey, I’m really proud of you,” he says before you open the door. “Going through two painful break-ups, especially with the last one, and still graduating with honors? It’s amazing.”

“Same goes for you. Going through three years of school as a werewolf, dealing with changes, breaking up with Allison, her death, and just dealing with the supernatural as a whole, and as an alpha? It’s amazing.” Scott chuckles and hugs you one final time before you head inside.

You remove your gown from your shoulders, finally feeling the cool air conditioning on your warm body. You head to the kitchen for a glass of water and you see your parents sitting at the table.

“Hey sweetie. How was dinner with everyone?” Your mom asks.

“Great. Melissa treated us all to a nice dinner since she got a big bonus at work.”

“That’s nice. Is everyone coming over Friday, like you planned?”

“Yeah, they’ll be over at-” The doorbell ringing breaks your sentence. “I’ll get it.”

You walk back into the living room and open the door without a thought. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you come face to face with Theo.

“Hi,” he breathes. You inhale and exhale for a moment. He has a somber look on his face, still dressed in his fancy graduation outfit, looking as handsome as ever

“Honey, who is it?” Your dad calls from the other room.

“Uh, Scott. He says I left something in Stiles’ car. I’ll be right back.” You push Theo back so you both are outside. You walk over to the porch swing and take a seat. He follows moments later.

“Why are you here, Theo?” You ask, keeping your eyes down; the same sort of situation you were in the last time you two talked, when he admitted to killing Scott.

“I came to make things right. Ever since I got back, I’ve been trying to fix what I fucked up. I made things right with Scott, and with Liam, and Malia, even. I feel like I’m in a good place, but I’m missing one person I really cared for.”

“You didn’t care for me, Theo. You lied right to my face when I asked you if you killed my best friend. I asked you and you told me it was accidental, only for Scott to be resurrected and tell me that you tried to get his own beta to kill him. That’s not accidental.”

“(Y/N), listen. I-”

“No. How the fuck can I trust you anymore? How the fuck can I trust you when I opened up to you, told you about the heartbreak and pain I went through before I met you, only for you to turn around and hurt me even more?! To lie to me about the reason you’re here? Telling me that your dad got a new job, but you’re really here to gain power and rip apart the pack?” Theo sighs and nods.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think of you at all. I was selfish. I didn’t think of anyone else but myself. But I know for a fact that I loved you.”

“But...if you loved me, why would you not care enough to think about the repercussions of your actions and how they would affect me?”

“Because in my head, repercussions weren’t a thing. I was so power hungry that I didn’t care for those that I loved, even though I know I should’ve.”

“This conversation is going nowhere, Theo. So, if you would please leave and-“

“(Y/N)!” Scott suddenly appears in your front yard. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” You glance at Theo and he nods his head.

“What?” You groan, walking down the stairs and to him. He takes you to the side of the house so Theo can’t see or hear you, directly. He was probably listening in on your conversation.

“He’s telling the truth. His heartbeat isn’t increasing or changing, he reeks of remorse and hurt, and he’s told all of the same to me. He wasn’t thinking of anyone but himself and he didn’t care who he hurt in the process.”

“But why should I trust him now? What’s changed since he was put into the ground?”

“I already told you he’s changed a lot. Every time you were brought up, his face lightened up, and I could tell he really misses you. Liam mentioned that you were hanging out with some guy from school, and he had a huge fit; he punched a concrete wall when he heard. He came to me crying one night because he wanted to make things right with you, but you seemed so happy without him.” A small smile appears on your lips at the last sentence.

“I never saw Theo cry. Not even when we watched Forrest Gump.” Scott laughs.

“Yeah, he was sobbing like a baby. He wants you back, and I know it may take a while, and it may seem like he’s the same, but he’s not. I trust him more than I ever did, and that’s saying something.”

“What do you think I should do?” You wonder. “You always know what’s best for me. i mean, you introduced me to Isaac, you told me all the bad things Theo did and told me to talk to him, and we’ve been best friends for four years. I trust you more than anyone.”

Scott glances back to the front of the house, seeing Theo peer around the house, clearly listening to your conversation and watching your body language. He smiles and listens to Theo’s heartbeat. It races with nerves and his breathing is staggered.

“I think you should do what would make your heart happy. How have you felt without him?” You think for a moment, running over the past few months in your mind, forgetting how incredibly radiant you were when he was first gone. Recently, you’ve been missing him and longing for his comfort.

Nights were the hardest. He was always there for you when you had nightmares or couldn’t sleep due to anxiety. As much as you enjoyed him being gone at first, after a while, you wanted him back solely to be there for you when you needed calming down at night.

“Sad, happy, heartbroken, lost, glad I wasn’t being manipulated.”

“And how did you feel with him, during the summer?” A small smile appears on your lips.

“Joyful, carefree, warm...cared for.” Scott’s grin only widens as you finally admit and show what you want, deep from your heart.

“I think you belong with Theo. He may have hurt you and deceived you, and lied to you about his intentions but seeing you so happy for the first time since Isaac left, it was wonderful. Your heartbeat was always racing when you were with him, your chemo signals always signaled that you were in love. I know you loved Isaac, but you seemed different with Theo.”

“And that’s the worst thing! He was great the first few months we were together, until things with the pack got in the way and-”

“And I think that proves it. He never brought you into pack business, he never got you mixed up in his plan. The only reason things went down was because Stiles and I told you about what happened.” You pause and think about the statement. Sure, killing Scott affected you in terms of losing a friend for a short time, but Theo never asked you for information on Scott, Stiles, or Liam.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Scott confirms. “Otherwise, you would have told me.”

“But-”

“Quit with the buts,” Scott laughs quietly. You grin and shake your head. “You’re making excuses. I’m not saying to trust Theo completely, but at least give him a chance.”

This long talk had pretty much made up your mind. As much as you hated Theo, Scott, convinced you he’s different. And you wouldn’t really know that unless you gave him the chance to prove so.

“I’m so glad I have you, Scott,” you whisper, tears forming in your eyes.

“And we’ll have each other in the fall at school. Now,” he hugs you tightly, rubbing your back, “go see him. He’s been peeking around the corner to check on us this entire time.” You giggle and thank Scott before running back to the front of the house.

Theo was just getting ready to leave when you called out to him. In the glow from the streetlight, you could see his cheeks were stained with tears.

“(Y/N), listen. I know you’re really against-”

“Shut up.” His face contorts in confusion for a moment, but when you run right towards him and jump into his arms, everything falls into place.

“I’ll give you a chance, Theo,” you mumble into his neck. He shakes slightly with cries, repeating ‘thank you’ over and over again.

“You really will?”

“Were you not listening in on our conversation?” He blushes, having been caught.

“I did for a little, but it felt wrong, so I kinda just watched your expression for the rest.”

“I’m not saying I’m going to fully trust you just yet, that has to be earned back. But, I do want to hear what you have to say, and maybe reconcile things and go back to the way we were before you killed my best friend?”

A smile slowly tugs at the corners of Theo’s lips as your words settle in. He wipes your tears away with his thumbs, but doing so makes him start crying again. He hates seeing you hurt because of him, and he hates knowing how much he put you through.

“Can I ask you one thing?” He wonders. You nod and grab his hands in yours.

“Can I kiss you?” You can’t help but giggle at the desperate tone in his voice. “I’ve wanted to ever since I got dragged underground. It’s the thing that kept me sane. Thinking about how sweet they always taste, how soft they are.”

You take matters into your own hands and lean up to kiss him. He giggles almost immediately, ecstatic to feel them again. He grabs your hips and holds you close, his tears eventually mixing with yours on your lips.

“So,” he breathes, pulling away. He tightens his grip on you, scared of losing you for a second time. “Can I see you tomorrow for a make-up date? I’ll take you to get ice cream and we can just talk.”

“Or,” you begin, kissing him once more, “you could stay the night, we could talk and catch up, and you could take me out for ice cream tomorrow?” Theo smiles and taps your butt cheekily.

“That sounds great. I really missed you, beautiful.”

“I missed you too, Theo.”

[chachkayes]

You Get What You Give - Merhayes

Inspired by this anon, sorry Clo but I stole this one from you. You can still do your Mernick idea but this one is mine now! This will NOT be getting a pt. 2.

“Nick, you’re a great guy, and I have enjoyed our time together – really. But-“ Meredith stood bashfully in front of her soon-to-be ex, in the middle of the airport, about to head back to Seattle. Nick ran his hand through his hair, and finally looked Meredith in the eye, cutting her off.

“But you’re still in love with the other guy.” He could barely hear her whisper he has a name before he saw her nod. “It’s cool, I mean, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – but you deserve to be happy. And if he’s who makes you happy, and what you want, then it’s cool.” He smiled sadly at her, and a pang went through her heart, knowing she was leaving him. But it was for the best. The entire time she was with him, all she could think about was Hayes. And it felt unfair to Nick to continue seeing him when she could only think about someone else.

“I’m sorry, and thank you. You deserve to be happy too.” Meredith squeezed Nick’s hand, and said a quick, soft goodbye before heading to her boarding gate.

-----------

By the time Meredith got back to Seattle, her only mission was to find Hayes and ask him out on a proper date. She didn’t want to waste time anymore.

MG: You around?

…

CH: Almost off shift. Why?

MG: Can you meet me at my parking spot when you get off? It’s important.

CH: Sure, be there in 15.

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

Hayes had no idea what on earth Meredith could need or want so late at night, and he was surprised that she’d texted him so quickly when he knew she’d just got off her plane. He figured she’d want to head straight home to her kids.

“Hey – what’s going on?” Meredith heard Hayes call out from behind her, and she felt like her heart was about to beat out of her chest. She quickly spun around and smiled at him.

“Go out with me. On a date. A proper one.” She said as soon as he approached her. “Woah, wait – what?”

“I want to give us another chance, a real, earnest chance.” Meredith said to him, making direct eye contact with the man.

A second goes by, a surprised look on his face, no response. He thinks it over in his head.

This is the one thing he’d been waiting for her to ask him for so long – for timing to finally be on their side. For them to finally be together, with nothing in their way. And he’d have said yes with no hesitation if he didn’t know about who she’d just been with.

“I’m sorry, Grey. I can’t.” He said, diverting his eyes from hers. And now the surprised look found itself on her face.

“What, why? I thought you said Austin was doing better?”

“It’s not because of Austin. I… Grey, I heard about the guy from Minnesota.” Meredith’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t told him about Nick. “Wait – how?”

“Overheard Shepherd talking to Pierce about it.” She could feel his eyes piercing into her, and yet somehow, she couldn’t look away.

“Hayes, I’m-“

“Don’t. I don’t know what happened, and why you’re here now, and frankly I don’t want to know. But I do want to know why you didn’t tell me you were seeing this guy in the first place, yourself – why I had to overhear it accidentally from your sister. Why I’m always the fallback. I can’t go on a date with you because I need to stop letting you treat me like the second choice, the person you go to when things go wrong in another relationship. I am perfectly content just being your friend, and I will never regret having you in my life. But I need to respect myself enough to remove myself from a situation where I’m not a first choice. I’m sorry Grey – but I can’t do this anymore.” Meredith was speechless. His stoic stance and facial expressions showed no remorse. She had really screwed up.

“I’m sure the Minnesota guy is great, and I hope you can go back to him and live happily ever after. But I need to just be in your life as a friend right now. I need to know that I’m not just a fallback. Abby wouldn’t want that for me – I don’t want that for me.”

“Hayes – you’re not a fallback. You’re not a second choice.” Meredith said, tears threatening to fall, an intense desperation behind her voice. No man had made her feel the way he did, and she hated that she made him feel like she only wanted him when someone else didn’t.

“Then prove it. But don’t be surprised if I move on. All Abby wanted for me was to be happy.” And with that, he walked away from Meredith, over to his car and drove away, leaving her standing alone, filled with immense regret and shame over how badly she screwed things up with him.

And she didn’t know how to fix it.

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Juicy Bits Fiction pt 2:

"You didn't love him." It wasn't a question or an accusation as it may have been years ago.

Her mother was still as timid as if it had been, though not as unsure of herself. She looked her daughter in the eye as she admitted, with no guilt, remorse, or even spite, "No, I didn't."

Azula seemed hesitant herself, and uncharacteristically so, to her as she deliberated her way to a proper question.

"Did he, well, I mean, do you think he loved you?"

Some small part of her, an angry part that remembered every nightmare, a part of her she still wasn't quite ready to claim, shouted: "Of course he didn't!" from the back of her mind. Her daughter hadn't asked just that one part of her, though. She asked the mother who was there, asked what she noticed from a time she couldn't remember or hadn't been around for. She wanted a fuller truth, and she deserved it.

And so after some contemplation through a more objective point of view, she told her daughter, "I think he tried." After all, his fits of jealousy seemed far too personal and genuine to discount the idea that softer feelings were involved. How often he had told her to turn and face him, that he could look at her, and how rarely it was without any sort of warmth. "I think he wanted to," she continued. "From what I understand, from what your uncle told me, their own mother and father were married without either having any say in it, and they grew to love each other. I can't imagine he'd have expected any different."

Azula nodded at this, her eyes drifting off into the warm cup of tea in her hands due to her slipping into a contemplation of her own.

Can you call that love? Ursa thought to herself, remembering a time from before Azula was born. Zuko had been given to a wet nurse without her knowledge or permission and Ozai insisted on trying for another child in spite of her complaints that she had still felt weak from the pregnancy and birth. There were ways around it, she knew. Ways to prevent anything from taking root and flush out the traces of whatever managed to linger. Her own mother had put some such remedies together for women of nearby villages, and some from their own who claimed to be from nearby villages.

She had ordered a pot of tea be brought for her enjoyment in a shaded courtyard corner, slipping the herbs in to steep when she was sure no one was looking and hoping it would be enough. But in her nervousness and desperation, she hadn't noticed the Crown Prince watching his son play with a cat in the grass. How little Lu Ten was then.

Iroh approached her, jovial as ever. She flinched when he addressed her. His company was normally a relief, but how could she expect him to understand? When he smelled the tansy, the juniper the pennyroyal, her fears seemed to breathe life as his expression darkened. But his look had no disappointment in it and, while not free of discouragment either, seemed more concerned than anything. His voice had even taken a sad, sympathetic tone when he did find the will to speak.

"Oh, Princess," he'd said.

"I'm not ready for another one yet," she said in her own defense. "He says we need to, but I can't. I haven't gotten my strength back yet. I keep writing my mother to ask how, but--"

He gestured for her to stop, listening for something. A laundry maid passed by as he spoke up again.

"Really, Princess?" he half scolded through a chuckle. "Rice wine that strong in your tea? At this hour?"

The young laundry maid clapped a hand over her mouth, presumably to keep her own laughter inside. Ursa's face reddened as the girl ran off in the same direction from which she came.

"That one's a shameless gossip," Iroh explained once she was gone. "It's best to give her harmless rumors to share with the others."

And a Princess ordered to produce heirs slipping such a remedy into her tea was not harmless, she understood.

"You'd be safer taking such tea with me, behind closed doors and drawn curtains. There's sure to be a scandal, but not nearly as bad. And besides, what physician would think twice of a handsome, charming, unmarried Crown Prince needing traces of a liason to disappear?"

"Well, you certainly are unmarried."

He laughed at the witty remark, and told her to drink the rest of the tea and hide the dregs. It was an order, and should the events in that courtyard become known, it would fall to the Firelord's beloved firstborn. Little Lu Ten had fallen asleep scratching behind the cat's ears, and so his father carried him to bed.

Later that night Ozai had been in an unusually playful mood. The alcoholic tea rumor reached him within an hour of starting and inspired a suggestion.

"We could have a bottle brought to us," he told her, sitting by her on the bed with her hand in his. "No special preperation or presentation, or even cups to drink it with. We can pass it between us, like teenagers getting away with something."

She slipped her hand out of his and turned to face away from him, saying, "I had a moment of weakness and did somthing stupid. Have the whole bottle if you like, I don't want any." She imagined that his face fell, and when she'd felt his fingers at her shoulder she recoiled from them. It was enough that he didn't speak to her any more for the rest of the night.

The rejection must have only stung more when she began frequently paying his brother private visits soon after, ones where he dismissed all the servants, who couldn't help but hear him call he beautiful. But why should that be news? He had done so with plenty of fine ladies from good noble families and every so often with that chatty laundress. It would have been easy for Ursa to indulge her husband that one night, to drink straight from the bottle as she had with Ikem and the rest of their troupe after an especially good performance, but that wouldn't have hurt him. She'd hoped this supposed betrayal would bring him a fraction of the pain she felt when he praised her for lying about her lineage, when he glared at her for any mention of vilage life or laughed off her love of the tacky props or lowbrow performances rather than the words of great dramatists, even when they were alone, when he said it was a shame her son had no living grandmother and she could not contradict him.

Even a crumb of the pain when he kissed her and thanked the universe that such a lovely creature belonged to him. As if she were some secret sealed away in a forgotten cave and not an already beloved woman stolen from her own happy life.

When she looked at the teapot between her and her Azula, she thought of the one between her and Iroh all those years ago with the precious secret inside it. Would she ever know that she was the child she chose to have? Not her sweet boy, but her daring and sharp-witted girl? Maybe another time. There was a different truth to tell. One she specifically asked for.

She looked her in the eye.

"I didn't want to be something your father could love," she said to her, "so I made it difficult."

The words rang in her ears and Azula found herself thinking of Ty Lee. They had met when they were both still children with stout fingers and tadpole bellies. She had only ever wanted to be her friend, someone with whom she could share love and trust. How greatly she suffered once Azula had learned fear was more reliable than friendship and that to be loved was to be weak. And what of Mai? Were her dour mood and snark meant to disuade any such interest in her? Had she hoped to the sun and all the stars in the sky that she would one day no longer be favored by the little princess?

Still hearing them as clearly is if she'd said them herself, Azula nodded at her mother's words and said, "I think I know what you mean."