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amywritesthings · 29 days

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silver underground. | chapter 21

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.8k Summary: day 163 - also know as the day your world changed Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - mentions of violence, death, bloodshed; miscommunications; amnesia trope; angst af

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CHAPTER 21

Bergamot.

He smells like fresh dirt and home and bergamot.

A pair of arms cocoon around you, holding you in place. Cradling the back of your head, lifting it from touching the ground, is a strong palm.

Sounds of the outside world are muffled; distant.

Here all you can hear is the wild thumping of your heart, your blood strongly coursing through your veins.

I am alive.

The crash happened so fast—

Falling from the sky. Sliding across the forest floor. Rolling over and over and over—

Until your body stopped abruptly against a cushion of muscle.

When the dust cloud settles, when the fog fades into vapor, you open your eyes.

Shades of deep, vertical brown overtake your vision. It's so vibrant, familiar yet new. For what feels like hours you stare at a small bug, a speckled ladybug, crawling in circles until it decides to head north.

With each passing exhale your attention travels with it — up, up, up — when causation connects:

One of the mighty tree trunks of the forest broke this violent fall.

(But not just for you — he was the one to take the brunt of the damage.)

He...

When your lips part, your mouth is dry.

Constricted, confused lungs try for their very first breath.

Inhale.

Breathe.

Stay with me.

But that isn't your voice; not in your mind's eye.

Blurry images flash along your vision, sprinkling red, black, and silver against the brush and trees of the forest.

No matter how many times you blink, squeeze, tear up, the visuals scatter like materialized pins and needles.

They won't go away. They clip to your peripheral, forcing you to confront what's ahead.

Nothing is linear. Nothing is clear.

Nausea, relief, uncertainty, rage — these emotions assault your senses. Emotions. Mind.

It’s like waking up after a horrible dream.

One you’ve been kicking and screaming to leave the minute it started.

Let me out.

The freefall plays over and over, a never-ending loop of sickening weightlessness, without a means to jolt yourself awake.

Let me out, let me out, let me—

Something mirrors your heart beat and fractures in its own rhythm, pounding erratically against your chest.

Your heart still beats, but not as panicked — not as heavy — as this.

As... his.

Him — the one who broke your fall.

(Levi.)

Without thinking, your trembling hand rises past his ribcage, up his arm, to his fingers resting on your trembling shoulder.

Then you realize it isn't your body that's shaking.

It's Levi's.

Quivering like a leaf, gasping for breath as if he’s run a marathon.

He doesn’t move. He’s frozen in time, right where you left him.

(I’m sorry.)

Over and over, you replay precious seconds in the back of your mind — fractured memories you’ve only just begun to uncover.

Falling.

Darkness.

(James? James, shit, wake up—)

A voice crack.

Hopelessness.

Instinctively your arms surround him, as if dissolving him into your very pores will somehow help with the confusion in your gut.

Even when your fingers raise hire on your shoulder to glide along his, he doesn’t relax.

If anything, his ivory muscles forge into steel.

Prepared, like you’re the enemy.

They do not soften when your fingers curl, timid and experimental, around his hand for reassurance.

(Wake up.)

They do not yield when you exhale, slow and steady.

They do not rest when you squeeze, as if to offer a sign of life.

(Please, James, don’t do this to—)

“Levi.”

Two syllables — you murmur his very name, realizing the severity of all that you’ve missed.

The dampness of the Underground City right above your heads;

The heat of the sun on a riverbank of the surface;

The light of the morning, just outside an open window, glittering over a bare shoulder;

All puzzle pieces, scattered across a large table.

They fit together in a way — you just need to figure out where.

When you inch your face away from his body, you see it: those blue-gray eyes, pupils dilated and whites wide, staring straight through you.

(As though lost in another time, in the same nothingness you’d lost yourself in for months.)

His chest heaves in and out, trying to catch a breath that just won’t come.

Wretched, heavy gasps contain the fear.

The panic.

All while reliving, too.

“Levi?” you ask once more, softer this time.

A sharp battle cry sounds above your heads. You glance high to witness the silhouette of Petra flying through the canopy of trees with a trail of steam behind her, swords extended.

The titan has been defeated.

The forest floor quakes and shivers with its demise.

Except that isn’t how the mission happened last time.

The realization is a chilling thought creeping, infecting, the back of your mind as you return your attention to the captain in front of you.

“Levi.”

You urge firmer this time, but it’s no use.

Levi Ackerman continues to stare ahead, but he blinks. Rapid fire, as if trying to return to his body.

This face.

You gravitate towards this face that consumes every waking dream you’ve ever had.

Caging his face between your palms, you finally snap with a command.

“Levi, look at me.”

His gray eyes shoot down, catching yours, and your entire world feels warm again.

The light in a never-ending darkness.

Your past is your present and your present tumbles into your past.

An undiscovered constellation of points in your memory that haven’t quite lined up yet, but him…

All you know is that you have missed him, this incorrigible man, lying beside you.

And all this time, it is Levi Ackerman that holds the frame of the puzzle you have been trying to solve.

Instinctively your thumbs run along his cheekbones, causing his eyes to grow impossibly wider.

Unwise, perhaps, but the softened motion brings you comfort unlike anything else, tethering bits and pieces together in the mind by touch alone.

Bits and pieces, to bigger pictures —

You — a nobody from the Underground City, meant to die by the hands of greed and saved by ones of promise.

You — a formidable fighter, a friend, a colleague, a lover.

You — Lieutenant James, member of the Special Operations squad in the Survey Corps.

Maybe you don’t have the whole story yet, but whoever she is… whoever you are…

She’s supposed to be right here.

Levi’s eyes flutter over your face as if to search for injury or damage, but he doesn’t remove his arms from your body. The captain continues to cradle you as if you'll disappear, dissolve, into the mist that swallows your very waking daydreams.

So you lean closer, murmuring just under your breath with pure wonder.

Recognition.

“I know you.”

‘You know me.’

You recall standing right in front of him months ago, begging in a stable.

Those fateful few months before you really knew how close you were to the truth.

'You know me, but you won’t help me. Why?’

That doubt on his face, deeply ingrained in curbed expectations.

It's a memory you haven’t been able to shake, not since you awoke from the hospital.

Now it twists into something much darker.

‘Because you finally have an out.’

Profound sadness infects your stomach when one jagged edge aligns with another.

The memory, fresh as morning dew on a weed, sprouts before your very eyes.

Yes, you do know him.

Yes, he wouldn’t help you.

Because you’ve been down this road before.

But not like this.

Not wrapped up like two star crossed lovers.

(That’s why you hate me.)

— suddenly your back meets the ground.

A pair of hands abruptly push you, knocking you down to the forest floor with a whoosh of a small oof from your lungs.

Your eyes connect with the bright blue sky, the twinkling of green leaves, the expanse of a bird's wing flying high above.

I know this place.

Why can't you say it out loud?

In a hasty cloud of dust, Levi's boots keep up dirt as he scrambles off of you.

To steady himself, his pale palm presses to the tree trunk. He heaves once, twice, before exhaling fully.

Breath finally returns to his body. What once was pale now has color.

When you eventually turn your gaze to him, he glares directly at you, but it isn’t cruel.

Feral, maybe, and diluted in his own confusion, but not cruel.

(You’d never witnessed someone so beautiful in your life.)

In a new light, you finally see him — a mirror image of two worlds, old and new. Of what your body misses to its very core. Of what your mind wants to remember, to know as intimately as it once did.

Slowly you roll to your belly and push up with your arms. You draw up on one knee, your hand instinctively raising to graze your neck.

There.

The silver pendant, tiny and profound, remains intact.

The fall didn’t destroy it.

Immense relief floods your system, and your fingers cradle it like a lifeline.

'You don’t own anything. Now you do.'

That melodic baritone guides your ghost of a hand, adhering one more piece to the puzzle.

A fuller frame.

All you want to do is run to him, speak to him, hear his voice, but all you can do is watch as he cycles through the motions of getting his shit together.

Struggling through stages of anger, betrayal, relief, and longing —

Before addressing you as Captain Levi would.

Because he doesn’t know.

He didn’t hear.

(You didn't say.)

“Are you out of your mind?”

An ironic question, all things considered.

Your lips part to answer, but his finger raises to warn against that judgment.

A curtain of dark fringe hangs over his eyes, shoulders heaving.

“Direct insubordination against your superior,” he spits, but the edge to his voice is frayed.

He’s barely hanging on by mere threads. You want to knit them back together so badly.

“And endangering the entire squad–”

“Levi—"

“Oluo would have been fine, but you? You weren’t ready.”

Standing on both feet now, you ignore the dirt and debris on your white uniform and take a step forward in earnest.

“Levi, if you would just—”

“I didn’t ask you to speak, James.”

His bark is as cold as ice, causing you to stop your pleas right in their tracks.

Your own wide eyes stare at him as he reprimands you, seemingly unhinged by what has transpired.

Your mouth shuts into a thin line, willing yourself to hear him out.

To hear him.

Piece by piece, the image fills—

“Commander Erwin was wrong to put you back in the Scouts," Levi growls. It’s spoken as if to convince himself of that very truth. “Abandoning your horse, defying my orders, acting without any regard for your fellow squad mates—”

He seethes, a flicker of rage fluttering across his face.

“—the recklessness of your actions could have cost not only your life, but the lives of my squad.”

“Our squad,” you correct boldly without realizing you’ve said the words out loud.

Wrong answer. His anger only grows.

“My,” he corrects viciously, “squad. You are a—”

“—Lieutenant, which is practically the same rank as you,” you blurt with your own anger, the adrenaline flushed through your veins as newfound familiarity seeps into your veins. "The titles don't mean anything. It's just shit made up for people like us."

“Excuse me?” he growls, and you don’t let up.

“And I know Commander Erwin has always favored you more, but you only pull ahead of me by two goddamn months in the Scout Regiment,” you desperately rasp, the excitement too great, “so shut the hell up and listen to me, Levi Ackerman, because I know you.”

Exhaling your frustrations in heavy heaps, you refuse to cower.

There is no reason to fear this man. There never was.

"I know you," you repeat, defeated.

As if you've confessed at the foot of his altar.

Levi, despite all of his anger, turns his chin sideways with a growing bewilderment.

Now that you speak, you can see the dots connecting behind his very eyes.

All you can do is hope — all you have is hope.

When he doesn't say anything, you step forward and continue.

"This whole time. This entire time you've tried... you tried to shut me out because you knew that if you did, I'd walk away."

"What?" Finally, he speaks, but his voice drops with caution.

"You said you wouldn't shut me out."

"And I didn't."

"But you wanted to give me an out, right?" you remind. "That's what you told me the day in the stables at the cadet camp."

His teeth grit. "I told you—"

"That day, you agreed to give me a second chance, but you hoped I'd get too scared in the forest and run the other way. Except I've seen things and—"

That grit dies instantly. "Wait, seen things?"

"Yes, I've seen pieces, Levi," you admit. "Pieces."

"Of—?"

"Us. Of my life." Your fire dies. "Of our life."

His jaw clenches so hard that his teeth could shatter.

Your shoulders drop, defenseless. Your hand touches the back of your head, trying to feel for where you might have hit it on the ground back then.

"You ran from me in that hospital in Trost when I woke up. You saw I couldn't remember you right away, so you thought..."

A small laugh of relief exits your mouth before you can stop it.

There are so many black spots in your mind's eye, but…

His face paves the way.

Four hearts, staring up at a skyless night; now only two remain.

"Damn it, you really thought I would never remember you when you were my entire life."

Falling.

All you’ve ever done is fall.

On your back, as a child in those fighting rings in the Underground City.

On your side, struggling to learn the inner workings of stolen ODM gear while a rambunctious boy with ash-blonde hair laughs to the sky.

On your front, when two strong arms pulled you on top of him, lips crashed to yours.

Yet Levi always held out his hand and picked you up.

Now his fists are translucent, tight at his sides, as your eyes meet.

“And so you pushed me around in hopes that I'd leave you here," you conclude sadly, "all while you blamed yourself for the rest of your days for my mistake — right?”

It’s as if you’ve confessed you’re a titan in the flesh.

Levi staggers back, the clink of his ODM gear rattling as he moves.

His eyes flutter all over your face, studying, searching—

“What the hell are you saying?” the captain croaks, unlike himself.

He stares, clearly waiting for the final blow, like you hold his entire life in the palm of your hand.

Oluo and Petra are somewhere.

And wherever they are means Gunther and Eld are likely not far behind.

They’ll approach at any moment to regroup with the Captain.

But you need him to understand—

Levi's jaws clenches again; an overwhelming flurry of emotion settling on his tongue.

He looks two seconds away from detonating.

"What did you remember?" his voice cracks, the facade shattering. "Just say it, damn it, what the fuck did you remem—"

“James!”

The panicked voice of Oluo shouts from the sky.

Petra follows not long after, attaching to the base of the tree trunks to softly find a landing on her feet.

The rest of the squad follow suit, eyes wide.

“Whoa, are you alright?” Oluo repeats, rushing forward. “The hell just happened out there?”

“Her gear got caught,” Petra replies with equal urgency. “I saw it when Captain Levi took off after you two.”

“Her gear?!” Oluo yelps.

The two of them rush over while their hands reach out, swiping your emerald cloak up and away.

They duck their attention to the gear to assess the damage.

The ODM canisters don’t look particularly busted, but the wire dangles helplessly without its spike.

You note just how nervous everyone looks.

Because everyone knows the story, you realize deep in your belly.

The story where a member of the Levi Squad fought titans and got her gear stuck, resulting in a catastrophic head injury where her memories were no more.

The one where they nearly lost one of their elite, only to result in that woman becoming a completely blank slate.

Someone that they'll never get back.

Except she's screaming in your head, slamming against your skull.

I'm here! I'm here, don't you see? I'm still here!

Eld and Gunther quickly descend next, their feet pattering with the quickness towards where you stand.

The squad surrounds you with a million questions, checking your head should there be damage.

Petra even places a gentle hand on your heart, but it’s hammering.

Alive.

Levi says nothing, does nothing; his chin ducks to his emerald collar, allowing his squad to have their time.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Gunther admits with a sigh.

“The hell were you thinking?” Eld adds.

You sheepishly shake your head, eyes still attached to Levi. “I-I wasn’t—”

“I had it, James,” Oluo counters, cutting you off. “I had that titan. You didn’t need to go back for me and almost risk your damn life.”

“Hate to say it, but I agree with Oluo,” Petra replies with a soft sigh, before pulling you in for a small hug. Your arms remain lamely at your sides. “You didn't need to prove you were badass to us, alright? We know." She lets go. "How did you cut yourself loose?”

“She didn’t.”

Levi’s voice breaks through, stopping everyone in their tracks.

He turns on a heel away from the squad, head remaining in a bow, and walks in the direction they'd arrived from.

“I caught her.”

You note the changes in expressions on the rest of the squad's faces.

Recognition smooths over their tired lines, like the significance isn’t lost on them.

Suddenly they duck their chins, too, as if ashamed for gossiping.

Only you remain with your head up, eyes square on the captain.

He does not look your way.

“Outing’s over. We’ll just have to break Four Eyes’ heart and tell them we didn’t capture any of those bastards today.”

“But we didn’t even make it halfway through,” Eld starts, turning his boot towards the captain with surprise. “We can go further.”

"Wait, we managed to clear the forest?" you ask without thinking, causing Eld and Oluo to glance your way.

Oluo’s eyebrows slide high to his hairline.

Eld’s narrow to a point.

“It… was,” Eld slowly, carefully, explains, “but the mission you — the one that you — Wait.”

"People still made it to the other side after I fell?" you exhale.

They made it.

The Scouts managed to push to the end of the forest.

The mission wasn't all for nothing.

A flurry of confused relief floods your system, yet the squad looks at you with pure confusion.

“...none of us told her about the forest debrief from last year yet, did we?” Oluo inquires, pointing to Petra. “Hey, did you snitch?”

“Huh? Snitch?!” Petra yelps. “What the hell would I snitch about? It’s not like it's a secret to anyone here what went down.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t make it long enough to see the end of it,” Gunther replies, rubbing his chin between his thumb and index finger. “And we all agreed not to bring up said mission when she woke up until she was cleared by that doctor guy she saved.”

“Doctor?” you blurt under your breath, blinking. "That I...?"

That you saved…

Albeit foggy, you remember the other team that fateful day.

Miro squad.

There were so many names, so much chaos…

You struggle to remember the finer details, but there was someone named Rini.

An older man — or did he just look weatherworn from war?

Was it the same man from Trost?

“Wait. James.” Petra rounds you, searching your face with budding excitement. “Do you remember the last mission you were on? Is that why you’re—”

“I said the outing’s over.”

Levi's command bites off her question, and Petra falters.

“I already have one shithead disobeying instructions. Is this going to become a trend?”

The squad goes silent, turning to their captain.

“Get the damn horses back,” the captain growls. “We’ll reconvene as a group back at headquarters. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” they all respond in unison.

One after the other, they offer a look of condolences to you before ascending to the skies.

Leaving Levi and yourself to remain.

In the back of your mind, you remember the odds.

Forty to eighty.

The screams of terror.

The urgency to fly through the trees.

A formation of horses…

A corner of the puzzle is complete.

Help me.

Why won’t you help me?

“Levi?” you start, and you see his face flinch at your tone. “Can we talk?”

“Not here,” he replies curtly.

“But—”

“I said not here,” he grunts, turning his chin to regard you over his shoulder. “I’m not doing this here.”

When his eyes meet yours, they soften.

Apologetic.

As if he’s teetering on the brink of giving up completely.

“Go back to your quarters,” he urges. “Clear your head. Figure out if…”

Did his voice just crack again?

You can’t help but gravitate towards his orbit, boots gently stepping closer.

“...figure out if you mean it,” he finishes, stronger now. “If you really do remember — any of this. We'll reconvene and debrief back at headquarters, but I told you: I'm not feeding you our memories. If you think you know me, then say it with your whole damn chest and hold nothing back."

His chin drops, his black fringe falling over his eyes.

You can't see what he's thinking, how he's feeling, but the way his voice turns to a whisper breaks your heart.

"I can’t keep up with these false hopes anymore.”

The necklace on your sternum burns.

Although you have a million questions, a thousand apologies, a dozen pleas, and very few certainties, you say one thing in return.

"Yes, sir."

You both stand in silence, awaiting the horses.

He stares at the ground.

You continue staring at him.

I know you.

You're the only certainty I have.

Once the rest of the squad arrives, you mount your horse and keep formation.

The sun bursts free.

There are no more trees clouding your vision.

Ahead there is an expanse of grass, reclaimed by time.

(A new start.)

Levi Squad returns to headquarters without a casualty in tow.

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whateversawesome · 3 months

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Chapter 94: Detective Twilight

This was a fun chapter! Detective Conan fans are probably happy with it, right? And we still learned a few things along the way.

Well, we know the kind of dad Twilight is (the kind who yields as soon as he sees his kid cry 😆)...

And we also know what kind of mom is Yor: A mama bear! Honestly, Anya couldn't be in safer hands.

By the way, let me say that Twilight and Yor looked gorgeous throughout the whole chapter, especially in this panel 💕

We got the classic fanfiction "there's only one room left at the hotel" trope 😀

For a second, I thought we were getting the "there's only one bed" trope! But then this happened...

Even though they didn't end up sharing the bed, this was still my favorite panel in the chapter. Why?

First of all, it's very obvious now that Yor has feelings for her husband. She didn't say something like: "I've never shared a room with a man." She was very specific and got all flustered about sharing a room with Loid.

However, what I liked the most about that panel was Twilight's attitude. Look at his face. It's basically this one 😏 But the point of this panel is that it's only the two of them and his words and facial expression say one thing: "I know you."

That's the kind of stuff that makes him a good husband. He pays attention to his wife, what she likes and the things that make her uncomfortable. In that panel, he lightly teases her, but he's also being considerate of her without making a big deal out of it.

Also, I know everyone wants Twilight and Yor to share a bed (me too!!) but I think when it finally happens the waiting will pay off.

Hear me out:

It will probably happen right after they both realize they have feelings for each other but before they confess (for maximum tension😆). Can you imagine the amount of longing? Knowing that the person they're in love with is right there within reach, next to them, sharing a bed, side by side trying not to touch but wanting to touch so badly and both Twilight and Yor dying to kiss (and do other stuff) Come on, you can't beat that!

My advice: patience. It's going to happen at the perfect time in the relationship and in the story. Plus, it has to be a very forced situation AND there has to be no other way (no couch either!).

In the meantime, let's see how Twilight not only blindly trusted Yor, even though, as a spy, he should trust no one and he had reasons to suspect her (because she wasn't in the room AND she's an actual assassin). Even Yor wasn't sure it wasn't her 😂(Probably?)

On top of everything he was incredibly protective of his wife. He didn't even let that man come near her, let alone touch her. YES! That's what we like to see, Twilight 😊

Bonus: Did you notice that as soon as they found the first victim, Twilight's first thought was to protect his daughter? Nice dad instinct, Mr. Spy-dad 😏

#spy x family #twiyor #spy x family manga #spy x family analysis #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #loidyor #sxf #loid x yor #spy x family meta #spy x family chapter 94

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quotesfrommyreading · 9 months

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Much of the public discussion of Ukraine reveals a tendency to patronize that country and others that escaped Russian rule. As Toomas Ilves, a former president of Estonia, acidly observed, “When I was at university in the mid-1970s, no one referred to Germany as ‘the former Third Reich.’ And yet today, more than 30 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, we keep on being referred to as ‘former Soviet bloc countries.’” Tropes about Ukrainian corruption abound, not without reason—but one may also legitimately ask why so many members of Congress enter the House or Senate with modest means and leave as multimillionaires, or why the children of U.S. presidents make fortunes off foreign countries, or, for that matter, why building in New York City is so infernally expensive.

The latest, richest example of Western condescension came in a report by German military intelligence that complains that although the Ukrainians are good students in their training courses, they are not following Western doctrine and, worse, are promoting officers on the basis of combat experience rather than theoretical knowledge. Similar, if less cutting, views have leaked out of the Pentagon.

Criticism by the German military of any country’s combat performance may be taken with a grain of salt. After all, the Bundeswehr has not seen serious combat in nearly eight decades. In Afghanistan, Germany was notorious for having considerably fewer than 10 percent of its thousands of in-country troops outside the wire of its forward operating bases at any time. One might further observe that when, long ago, the German army did fight wars, it, too, tended to promote experienced and successful combat leaders, as wartime armies usually do.

American complaints about the pace of Ukraine’s counteroffensive and its failure to achieve rapid breakthroughs are similarly misplaced. The Ukrainians indeed received a diverse array of tanks and armored vehicles, but they have far less mine-clearing equipment than they need. They tried doing it our way—attempting to pierce dense Russian defenses and break out into open territory—and paid a price. After 10 days they decided to take a different approach, more careful and incremental, and better suited to their own capabilities (particularly their precision long-range weapons) and the challenge they faced. That is, by historical standards, fast adaptation. By contrast, the United States Army took a good four years to develop an operational approach to counterinsurgency in Iraq that yielded success in defeating the remnants of the Baathist regime and al-Qaeda-oriented terrorists.

A besetting sin of big militaries, particularly America’s, is to think that their way is either the best way or the only way. As a result of this assumption, the United States builds inferior, mirror-image militaries in smaller allies facing insurgency or external threat. These forces tend to fail because they are unsuited to their environment or simply lack the resources that the U.S. military possesses in plenty. The Vietnamese and, later, the Afghan armies are good examples of this tendency—and Washington’s postwar bad-mouthing of its slaughtered clients, rather than critical self-examination of what it set them up for, is reprehensible.

The Ukrainians are now fighting a slow, patient war in which they are dismantling Russian artillery, ammunition depots, and command posts without weapons such as American ATACMS and German Taurus missiles that would make this sensible approach faster and more effective. They know far more about fighting Russians than anyone in any Western military knows, and they are experiencing a combat environment that no Western military has encountered since World War II. Modesty, never an American strong suit, is in order.

— Western Diplomats Need to Stop Whining About Ukraine

#eliot a. cohen #current events #politics #ukrainian politics #american politics #warfare #strategy #tactics #diplomacy #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #war in afghanistan #vietnam war #ukraine #usa #toomas hendrik ilves

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 6 months

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The Impossible Miracle.

fictober masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - don't ask me what this is because honestly, i have no clue myself. my brain is weird sometimes.

word count - 4k

in which, what you thought would turn out as a fun filled halloween evening with your fiancé turns out to be anything of the sorts when you collapse in pain, coughing up blood as your body convulses. your soon rushed to see the witches where they seem to inform you of something you never thought was possible given your lover is a creature of the night.

trope: vampire!harry, fiancé!harry

It's the 31st of October, and the enchantment of the night has settled in. The dim, warm glow of the table lamp casts soft, flickering shadows, creating a mesmerizing ambiance. Halloween decorations, now slightly askew, dance gently in the breeze that flows through the half-open window.

The cozy embrace of the sofa lures you into a state of gentle slumber, but instead of peaceful dreams, a sinister nightmare takes hold. You find yourself shifting and turning on the sofa, trapped in a whirlwind of emotions. The familiar room becomes a disorienting labyrinth, shadows whispering your deepest fears.

Your knuckles whiten as you clutch the edges of the sofa. The nightmare intensifies, and your heart races. Cold sweat forms on your brow. The laughter of your fiancé from the joyful dinner now feels like a distant memory.

The nightmare's weight bears down on you, and you try to call out, but your voice is just a whisper. You shift frantically on the sofa, mirroring the turmoil of your dreams. The room blurs, its boundaries fading, and you struggle to break free from the torment.

In the midst of this dark dream, you long for the comforting presence of your fiancé, the anchor in your life's stormiest seas. As you shift on the sofa, your chest tightens, and the room dissolves into darkness. You yearn for their gentle touch, the reassurance that would banish the nightmare's grip.

The memories came rushing back, unrelenting and vivid. It was a nightmarish replay of that fateful evening, the rain pouring down relentlessly, your car broken and stranded. Desperation had driven you to seek refuge in Harry's house, thinking it was just around the corner.

The dread had settled in as you approached his front door. Knocking and calling out for him yielded no response. Panic began to gnaw at your insides, the rain soaking you to the bone. The eerie silence of the house only added to your growing unease.

Summoning your courage, you ventured inside, hoping to find some sign of him. Your footsteps echoed eerily on the wooden floors as you followed an inexplicable, otherworldly sound – a haunting, almost hypnotic melody of pleasure that seemed to resonate from the depths of his home.

The nightmare played out with agonizing clarity as you crept further into the house, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls. As you approached the kitchen, your heart plummeted in your chest, and your breath caught in your throat. There, in the dimly lit room, was Harry, his features distorted by the chilling glow of the refrigerator's light.

He stood in the kitchen, his lips stained crimson, and his gaze met yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. In his hand, he held a blood bag, and the reality of the situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

The moment you realized Harry's true nature as a vampire, terror surged through your veins. Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the front door, desperate to escape the horrifying truth that had been revealed.

But your escape was cut short. Before you could even reach the door, a blur of movement brought Harry in front of you, blocking your path. His expression, though soft, couldn't alleviate the sheer terror that had taken hold of you.

You stammered, your voice quivering,

"Harry, I... I didn't... I don’t…" Your words were an admission of both your hesitancy and your fear.

He extended a gentle hand toward you, his eyes pleading with an intensity that was almost heartrending. "M’so sorry y’had t’find out this way. I never meant f’y’to see this."

You stood there, your entire body trembling, unable to contain the fear that had gripped you. Your voice quivered as you finally, reluctantly, admitted out loud what Harry really was.

"You're a vampire," you whispered, your words filled with both horror and disbelief.

The room seemed to close in around you, and the knowledge of his true nature was an oppressive weight.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded,

"Please, don't hurt me." Your voice was laced with vulnerability and desperation, seeking some form of reassurance.

He reached out, a comforting gesture, his hand moving gently toward yours.

"I promise, I would never hurt you," he said, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

But as he tried to touch your hand, you recoiled, pulling away as if his very presence was a threat. The realisation hit him like a punch in the gut, and his expression shifted from soft concern to one of profound sadness.

"You're scared of me," he murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow and acceptance.

That’s when a psychotic grin overtook his facial features, him muttering out one singular word:

“Good.’

You couldn't bring yourself to respond. The distance between you, both physical and emotional, had grown immeasurable in that moment. The love you had once shared felt like a fragile, shattered thing, and the knowledge of his true identity had torn a rift between you that you couldn't see how to bridge.

The tension between you and Harry escalated, and you recoiled from his attempt to reach out, the atmosphere took a dark and chilling turn. Instead of the nightmare ending like before, he pounced on you with unnatural speed, and his icy grip closed around your throat.

In an instant, his fangs sank into your neck, sending searing pain coursing through your body. You screamed in agony as the world spun into a nightmarish frenzy. The room around you twisted and contorted, and the very fabric of reality seemed to unravel.

Your screams grew louder and more desperate until, mercifully, they tore through the dream's fragile veil and brought you back to consciousness in the real world.

you jolted awake, gasping for breath, your chest heaving as if you had just run a marathon. The remnants of the dream clung to your consciousness like a sinister shadow, refusing to let go.

Your heart hammered in your chest, a relentless percussion of fear. Each beat resonated in your ears, pounding like a drum. The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains, casting eerie shapes upon the walls.

Your entire body was wracked with shivers, and you clung to the blankets that your lover must have placed over you, as if they were your lifeline.

The nightmare's grip had been so real, so visceral, that it left you physically shaking. Cold sweat covered your skin, and the sensation of phantom fangs against your neck still sent shivers down your spine.

Sensing your distress, Harry, your fiancé, was by your side in an instant. He had a calming presence, his eyes reflecting deep concern.

"S’wrong? Are y’okay?" Harry asked, his voice laced with worry as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Y’safe now. M’here with ye’."

You struggled to find the words, still trembling from the lingering fear of the nightmare.

"I... I had a terrible dream. It felt so real," you managed to stammer.

He pulled you closer, wrapping you in a comforting embrace.

"Y’don't ‘ave t’talk about it if y’not ready. M’right ere’, and I won't go anywhere until y’want t’share," he reassured, his arms a protective shield against the lingering shadows.

You leaned into him, finding solace in his presence.

As you nestled into his comforting presence, he gently stroked your hair, his voice soothing, "M’heard y’heart beating really fast from the kitchen."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you recounted the nightmarish ending to the dream.

"It was different this time," you whispered, your voice trembling. "After I found out you were a vampire, in the dream, you attacked me. I was so scared."

Harry held you tighter, his cold skin cooling your sweaty brow.

"Shh," he whispered, "I would never hurt y’not in a million years. S’just a dream, m’love, just a terrible dream."

Your hands wrapped around his neck, seeking his closeness, as his arms cradled you, comforting you through the nightmare's lingering shadows.

Seated at the table with your man, you listened to him as he tried to lighten the mood and make you feel better. He spoke animatedly about all the movies you were going to watch tonight, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Hey," he began with a playful smile, "I've been thinking about our movie night. I've got a whole list of films we can watch. How about we start with a classic? Maybe a romantic comedy or a heartwarming drama to set the mood?"

His words brought a small but genuine smile to your face, a welcome distraction from the earlier nightmare. It was in moments like these that you realized just how well he knew you. Movie nights with Harry had always been a cherished part of your relationship, a time to unwind, relax, and enjoy each other's company.

He continued, "And after that, we could dive into something thrilling. A suspenseful mystery or a mind-bending sci-fi flick. The choice is all yours, m’love."

You couldn't help but appreciate his effort to brighten the evening. The thought of escaping into the world of movies with him was an enticing one. As you discussed potential film choices and debated which one to start with, the weight of the nightmare seemed to recede further into the background.

As you prepared to respond to Harry's movie suggestions, a sudden cough caught you off guard. It started as a minor tickle in your throat, and you cleared it, thinking it was nothing to worry about. But then, you looked up and saw Harry staring at your mouth with an intense and almost alarmed expression.

"What's the matter?" you asked, puzzled by the sudden change in his demeanour.

He leaned closer, his eyes locked on your mouth, and you couldn't help but wonder what had caught his attention.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Before you could answer, another bout of coughing overtook you. This time, it was more forceful, and you couldn't control it. When the fit subsided, you looked at your hands and realized they were now stained with blood. Panic and confusion swept over you.

You stood up with the intention of getting a towel to clean up a spilled drink or some water. However, as you took that first step, something felt terribly wrong. Your balance seemed to betray you, and before you could react, you lost control. It was as if your legs gave way beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground.

Fear and confusion gripped you as you lay there, unresponsive. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Your limbs felt heavy, and you struggled to move. The world around you seemed distant and surreal.

Harry, your fiancé, who had been nearby, rushed to your side. His voice was filled with concern as he tried to rouse you. "Are y’okay? Can y’hear me?"

You wanted to respond, to reassure him that you were fine, but your body refused to obey your commands. Panic welled up inside you as you lay there, caught in a state of immobility. Harry's voice grew more urgent, and you could hear the worry in his tone.

In the moment of distress, Harry's voice was filled with a deep sense of concern.

"M’taking y’to the hospital," he said firmly, the worry etched across his face. "Everything is going t’be okay, I promise."

You wanted to respond, to reassure him that you were alright, but your unresponsive state prevented any words from escaping your lips. Fear coursed through you as you lay there, unable to convey your thoughts or understand the severity of your situation.

Gently, Harry lifted you into his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The sensation was both comforting and surreal, as he held you in a secure and protective embrace. His vampire abilities granted him strength and speed beyond the reach of any human, and in the blink of an eye, you were whisked away to the hospital.

The journey felt surreal, like a blur of motion, as you were carried through the night at incredible speed. The world passed by in a haze, and the distant wails of sirens grew louder as you approached the hospital. Harry's cool skin against your own served as a reminder of the otherworldly nature of the person who was carrying you to safety.

As you arrived at the hospital, Harry gently placed you on a gurney, concern etched across his face.

In an instant, he returned to his normal speed and raced into the hospital's reception area. His urgency was palpable as he shouted, "I need help! M’fiancée needs help!"

Doctors and medical staff immediately rushed over, their training kicking into action as they assessed your condition.

Harry stood by, explaining the situation in rapid and concise terms. "She just collapsed at home, unresponsive, and I have no idea what happened. Please, y’need t’help her."

As the doctors swiftly moved the gurney into a nearby room, Harry instinctively tried to follow them, concern etched across his face. But one of the doctors gently held out a hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll need to wait outside until we have more information," he explained.

Harry's eyes reflected his distress as he looked from the doctor to you. His voice quivered with worry as he asked, "Can I please stay with er’? I can't leave er’ alone."

The doctor's expression was sympathetic but resolute. "We need to conduct some tests and evaluations. It's essential that we have space to work. We'll update you as soon as we know more. Your fiancée is in good hands, I promise."

Harry couldn't hide his mounting frustration and anxiety as the doctor prevented him from entering the room.

"She doesn't like t’be alone. She's going t’be scared when she wakes up. She needs me," he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion.

The doctor's expression remained stern, a mixture of understanding and duty in his eyes. "I know it's difficult, but we need to conduct our assessments and keep a controlled environment. Please, Mr. Styles, try to understand."

Harry's patience was wearing thin. He was torn between his desire to be with you and his respect for the medical staff's procedures. He took a deep breath and said, "I can't just sit here, knowing she's in there all alone. What if she wakes up and m’not there?"

The doctor's voice was compassionate as he responded, "I promise, we're doing everything we can to help her. The best way you can support her right now is to wait for updates. If you don't calm down, we'll have to call security to escort you out of the hospital."

Harry glared at the doctor, frustration and fear warring within him. He knew that with his vampire abilities, he could easily overpower the doctor and be by your side in an instant. However, he also knew that you wouldn't want him to kick off or create a scene.

Reluctantly, he backed away from the door and sank into a chair, his hands trembling with the pent-up tension. He had to trust in the medical team and the procedures in place, even if it felt like an eternity until he could be with you again.

Minutes stretched into hours, and Harry's worry and fear only deepened. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness, the knowledge that you were alone in that room. He longed to be by your side, to provide the reassurance that only he could offer.

After what felt like an eternity of anxious waiting, the doctor finally emerged from the room where you were being assessed. Harry was on his feet in an instant, his eyes locked on the doctor's face, desperate for any news about your condition.

The doctor approached him with a solemn expression, recognizing the turmoil Harry was going through. "I understand how difficult this has been for you, Mr. Styles. Your fiancée has asked that the results be discussed with you in the room. She didn't want to be alone. Please come with me."

A surge of mixed emotions washed over Harry. Relief that he would soon be by your side, tempered by the anticipation of what the results might reveal.

He nodded, his voice unsteady as he said, "Thank ye’. I need t’be with er’."

The doctor led Harry back into the room, where you lay, waiting for answers. You were pale but conscious, your eyes reflecting the same concern and love that Harry felt. The sight of you, awake and aware, was a welcome relief.

As Harry took a seat by your side, the doctor began to explain the preliminary results of the tests.

You held Harry's hand tightly, seeking comfort in his presence as the doctor provided the information you both had been waiting for.

The doctor began by reassuring you both, "I'm pleased to inform you that there were no abnormalities in your blood work. Everything appears to be completely fine."

Relief washed over both you and Harry. It was as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Your grip on Harry's hand loosened slightly, and a small, grateful smile touched your lips. It was the best news you could have hoped for, given the circumstances.

The doctor's tone turned more sombre as he continued, "However, regarding the episode of coughing up blood, we couldn't immediately determine the exact reason for it. It's a concerning symptom, and we're actively investigating the cause."

You and Harry exchanged glances, concerned etching across both of your faces. The uncertainty surrounding the coughing episode left you with a nagging sense of unease. Harry's hand tightened around yours, providing a steady source of support.

The doctor continued, "We have initiated a series of more specific tests and consultations to get to the root of the issue. Our goal is to uncover the cause and ensure that we address it properly. Rest assured, we are doing everything we can to find answers."

Your heart was heavy with worry, but the doctor's dedication and commitment to finding a solution gave you a glimmer of hope. The road ahead might still be uncertain, but knowing that the medical team was actively working to determine the cause of the episode provided a measure of reassurance.

You nodded, your voice steady as you replied, "Thank you for your efforts. We trust that you'll do your best to get to the bottom of this. We're ready to face whatever comes our way."

The doctor cleared their throat, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

"There's one more thing we need to discuss with you," they said, their tone gentle but firm. "Based on our examination and test results, it appears that you're approximately nine weeks pregnant."

The shock that rippled through you was palpable, and you felt as though your world had suddenly turned upside down.

Your initial reaction was one of denial, your mind racing to find any reason to dispute the doctor's words.

You knew for a fact that your boyfriend, Harry, was a vampire, and as far as you understood, that was impossible.

"I can't be pregnant," you stammered, shaking your head. "It's not possible."

The doctor maintained their calm demeanor , explaining, "I understand that this may come as a surprise, but the tests confirm it. The nurse will be in shortly to perform an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy."

Beside you, Harry remained utterly silent, his head buried in his hands.

The realisation had left him equally stunned, and he was grappling with his own set of emotions.

The prospect of parenthood was a complex and unexpected turn of events.

As the nurse arrived to conduct the ultrasound, the room was filled with a mix of emotions - disbelief, confusion, and, for you, an overwhelming sense of denial. You wanted to believe that there had been some kind of mistake.

The ultrasound technician prepared the equipment, offering you reassuring words while giving Harry a sympathetic nod. The cool gel on your abdomen felt surreal, and as the image of the tiny, flickering heartbeat appeared on the screen, it became undeniably real.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you saw the undeniable proof on the monitor.

The doctor gently said, "You're expecting, and it's a healthy pregnancy. Congratulations."

The day had worn on, and the hospital room felt oppressively still. You sat on the bed, tear stains marking your face like silent witness to the emotional storm that had raged within you. The news of your unexpected pregnancy had left your world in chaos, and the weight of it all was almost suffocating.

Beside you, Harry sat in a chair, his silence a chasm that seemed to stretch endlessly. He hadn't said a single word to you since the revelation, and the absence of his voice was deafening.

The tension in the room was palpable, a wall of unspoken emotions that seemed insurmountable. You longed for his reassurance, his comforting presence, but it felt as though a divide had grown between you.

It was as though the world you had known had been shattered, replaced by a reality you were unprepared to face. The uncertainty of parenthood, the complexities it brought, and the unspoken fear of how Harry's vampiric nature would affect your child loomed over you both.

You had questions, doubts, and a multitude of feelings you wanted to express, but the silence was stifling. Each moment that passed without his words was a painful reminder of the gulf that had opened between you.

Harry's head was bowed, his features etched with a complex mixture of emotions. The weight of the situation bore down on him just as heavily, and it left you both grappling with a future that seemed uncertain and fraught with challenges.

In the midst of the silence, your heart ached with the need for connection, for understanding, for some semblance of reassurance that you were in this together. But the room remained heavy with unspoken angst, and the isolation you both felt seemed insurmountable.

The tears had long since dried, leaving a dull ache in their wake.

The heavy silence that had hung between you both in the hospital room felt unbearable. Tear stains marked your face, and your voice trembled as you broke the quietude with a hesitant, "I'm sorry..."

For a moment, Harry remained as still as stone, and the silence threatened to return, but your words had been a crack in the dam that held back a torrent of emotions. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, and it was then that you saw the tear stains on his cheeks, mirroring your own.

In the soft, dim light of the room, his eyes glistened with unshed tears, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. His voice was raw, filled with a vulnerability you had rarely seen from him as he confessed, "I didn't think it would be possible... I've had to live for four hundred years without a family. It's something I've always wanted, but I never thought it could happen because of what I am."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to him, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The pain and longing in his voice struck a chord deep within you. You reached out to take his hand, the touch a gesture of understanding and support.

He continued, the words flowing from him in an emotional torrent. "I've been alone for so long, and now, with you, I finally thought I could have something that I'd only ever dreamed of. A family. But the thought of putting you or our child in danger because of what I am... It terrifies me."

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a small but reassuring smile. "Harry, we'll find a way to make this work. We're in this together, and we'll do everything we can to keep our family safe. You're going to be an amazing father."

He blinked back his tears, his expression a mixture of gratitude and hope. The room, once fraught with angst and silence, had transformed into a space filled with the weight of your shared dreams, the determination to make them come true, and the understanding that together, you could navigate the complexities of this unexpected journey.

This was your impossible miracle.

#musicforastylesrestaurant #fictober23 #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fake ig #harry styles headcanon #harry styles x oc

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shirazens · 20 days

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my own silly mystreet characters headcanon list!

aphmau:

has the worst "hear me out" takes you'll ever hear. like seriously. she can very much point to a yield sign and say "would" to everyone's dismay.

knows every line in moulin rouge as she is OBSESSED with the film. she and laurance preform the elephant medley as dramaticly as possible whenever they watch it for movie night.

obsessed with pre-endgame marvel movies.

ao3 writer! she writes fics for the nichest of fandoms, so she doesn't get that many reads.

one of the few reliable booktok users you can TRUST will give you a good recommendation to read!

garroth:

obsessed with the movie megamind. like seriously. will talk to you for hours on and WILL defend the "sequel movie" and show because, in fact, they are NOT that bad.

can infodump about a topic he's interested in for hours on end.

actually really smart and kind, but ever since he found out he made zane insecure he tries to tone it down. he used to show off a lot but wants to make sure his brother shines as well.

carries stress balls on him so he doesn't use his strength unnecessarily.

always organizes group movie nights with all his friends.

laurance:

loves to listen to and read AITA (am i the asshole?) reddit posts when bored.

an amazing listener, will listen to someone for hours on end and provide insight when needed (perfect for having a conversation with garroth).

loves gossiping. he has really good hearing so he tends to hear others share secrets nearby. he's like the wine aunt you just KNOW has the most interesting stories to tell.

likes to go on vacations a lot, explaining why he is absent sometimes during big group events.

he sometimes returns home to his family farm to take care of it when his parents are out of town.

he often voluntarily babysits caleb to impress aphmau and garroth with his caretaker skills (he's a showoff).

katelyn:

she loves the show big time rush and watches it in her freetime.

OBSESSED with musical theatre and visits broadway shows often. if the friends she brought along even DARE to suggest skipping the stagedoor? they receive a glare that could kill thousands.

adores singing and often sings in her room when the others aren't home.

continues to play volleyball with her friends after a long day of work (she's a freelance writer).

her music taste can range from alternative music like waterparks to kpop groups like red velvet!

KC:

an ao3 writer as well! she and Aphmau gift eachother fics from time to time! she mostly writes x reader fics for tumblr sexyman.

has taken a liking to cooking outside of baking! she especially likes to grill! she even wears an apron that says "kiss the cook" as well as a hat that says "fish fear me women love me".

watches any and all trending animated shows like tangled the series, adventure time, avatar, etc.

has her own tumblr blog where she writes reviews on shows and posts art! her page is quite popular.

dresses in mainly lolita fashion! she has a flare for the beauty of style and loves to recommend people styles and outfits whenever they go out shopping!

travis:

calls katelyn, zane, and dante hot nonchalantly

has attempted.

dante:

loves to bake and nana teaches him all kinds of recipes to make. he supplies the snacks at movie night.

takes taekwondo lessons. "can never be too careful" he says while living in a pretty standard upper middle class neighborhood. why is he like this.

works at a pet shelter and takes care of the dogs and cats left behind. he adopts any that have been there for years, thus making his house full of many different pets.

the designated driver for whenever they go out to clubs. he doesn't like to drink so he usually takes everyone home by the end of the night.

travis (the actual headcanons):

actually respects others and doesn't harass them like he did early on (that was a weird trope and i HATED it). he's just a flirt and if someone he flirts with flirts back he gets all flustered.

the group gamer. spends hours grinding on all sorts of games just to brag about it on his steam profile. specifically a fan of the spider-man games on playstation.

loves to cosplay! he, aphmau, and nana go to lots of conventions together in group cosplay. their last one was the powerpuff girls! they dragged garroth along and made him mojo jojo.

can recite everything and anything about the ninjago lore. this man is obsessed with any lego product or franchise and has many sets built in his room.

practices talking to himself in the mirror every morning to give him confidence. he has very low self esteem.

aaron:

dream stan.

probably friends with dream.

uhhhh idk probably streams the song "mask" by dream.

minecraft streamer.

dream.

those are all my headcanons! i hope you enjoyed! (slandering mystreet aaron is a passion of mine i'm sorry)

#aphmau #aphmau mystreet #mystreet #laurance zvahl #mystreet laurance #mystreet garroth #garroth ro'meave #dante mystreet #mystreet katelyn #mystreet travis #mystreet kawaii chan #aphverse #aphblr

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝ BACKWARDS ❞ + BYAKUYA KUCHIKI.

( cw. )—› f!reader, angst, stranger to (fre)enemies to lovers, canon typical elements, slowburn, widower!byakuya, soul society arc spoilers, arrange marriage , mention of death,smût descriptions. word count :: 3.2k | redirect to blog navigation.

( syn. )—› after an emotional whirlwind, byakuya was given a chance to recuperate his irrevocable losses but little did y/n know that it was not what he asked for and he could never have what he wanted to ask for; hence, she had to face all kinds of retaliation from him.

( notes. )—› submission for ‘a change of pace’ collab by @mekiza . also, please accept this Sawn ( @swanphantasm ) ; it is because of you that I became aware of how handsome ( and sad ) he is. well . . .he is not my favorite but i like him a lot, so much so that i wrote that same cliche trope with him. forgive me </3

Words do not express emotions and thoughts precisely. They always become a little different when they are expressed; a little distorted, a little foolish, and a little bitter at some times yet life still goes on carrying a bevy of misunderstandings. It has to go on at least for Byakuya, who was stripped of love and time. Time to grieve, give and forgive, time to heal, and time to fall in love again.

Another bright day washes over the lush green spread of the garden despite the despondency and the agony of losing his wife, Hisana Kuchiki, to illness, to mere illness . It has been a few months since he became the head of the family even though his grandfather was still alive. His grandfather thought it would be better if Byakuya became the head of the family while he has still time, time to supervise him to keep up the family's reputation at hard times.

And so it began: the hypocrisy of rules.

Ginrei Kuchiki, the former head of the Kuchiki clan, when death was knocking at his door declared that Byakuya needs to be re-married. He knew that even if he was the head of the family he had no freedom to exercise his wishes and desires. He was just a scarecrow now , not the head of the family. He wanted to protest. He was aware that he would have to re-marry since he is the only one to carry the family line but he did not know that it would be so soon. All he wanted was time but everyone was running sort of it. His grandfather once said that decisions made in haste yield no good. What happened to that now, huh? However, there was one thing he was free to do, and that is, to choose his wife regardless of the family background and bloodline.

“You should be grateful that Byakuya has agreed to marry you even with all the rumors. He could have chosen a wife from the younger line of pure women” Y/N’s mother spoke as she kept on brushing her daughter’s hair, body shaking with excitement and tension brimming at her fingertips. She was not trying to hurt her. She only stated facts. Everyone knew about it. Y/N did too. Shihnōin Clan was one of the four noble families in the soul society. And the fate of the clan was hanging by the thread since Y/N’s previous marriage was full of woes. With no male heir she was the one to carry the bloodline. Even the distant families warded off when they had an ounce of the knowledge that Y/N was the reason for her husband’s death, for her own doom. And her father made it clear that she is too young to stay unmarried as soon as her husband was buried. No time to lament, nor to grieve. Tragic, is it not?

No. It is not. It was anything but not tragic. Sure, people talked, spun lies, and spread rumors but that is what they do, that is the only thing they know to do. Some said she poisoned her own husband; some said she was a witch of dark magic; some even go as far as saying that she had a secret lover who belonged to the low caste who killed her husband; But it did not matter what they said, it did not since if anything they helped to her to earn sympathy from the kinder souls, and Y/N’s mother made sure her daughter had no problem to have a stable life, finding her a proper husband and sealing the fate of Shihnōin clan with the Kuchiki clan. To people, it was more of an alliance, to the respective families, it was more of a marriage of convenience than a marriage. But to her it was a re-birth while to him it was just duty.

It was the fourth of January when her heart beat again hearing the sound of carriage. He is here.

Y/N could hear low voices from downstairs. Plain and prosaic but she could spot Byakuya’s voice out of them all. He specifically requested to see y/n alone and her parents did not express any objections. If she had not been married before, they would never have let her alone with a man, but as it was they thought they did not have to defend her virtue anymore. And Y/N could never tell them how wrong they were, that her previous marriage was never consummated. How shall she ever say that to him?

Byakuya was decent enough to knock and Y/N made no hurry to open the door. She bowed down, greeted him with a smile, and retreated towards the couch standing, waiting for him to follow her lead. “I hope you're aware of the circumstances of our meeting today. ” He seemed so restrained and controlled, as if his emotions were bottled up so deep inside, not even he could reach them. It is a wonder how much of it was the result of his wife’s death and how much was his natural disposition.

“Yes,” she said, hoping he could not see how nervous she was. She gestured toward the couch to the left. “Would you like to sit down for our talk?”Byakuya nodded. She sank down on the sofa, and he took the armchair across from her. She would have thought he would sit beside her, but he seemed content to keep as much space between them as was acceptable.

“I assume your father told you that our wedding is planned for February 14th” Y/N searched for a flicker of sadness or wistfulness in his voice, but there was nothing. She rested her hands in her lap, linking her fingers. There was less chance of him noticing her trembling that way. “Yes. He told me a few days ago.” Byakuya was courteous enough to give her the attention she needs. If all these were in his hands, he would not have been here. “I hope you're okay with this. With o-jii-sama’s health deteriorating and me being the head of the family, things are a little hasty. . .” Words became too heavy to reach her. She was bubbling with excitement that maybe, this marriage won't fail like the last one, maybe he won't flee with his secret lover while staging his death ( like her previous husband did ), and maybe he will see her as a woman enough. . .

“Why did you choose me?” Y/N asked out of the blue unable to keep up with his calm demeanor anymore. She had been wondering about this ever since her father had told her about his agreement with Byakuya. She knew it was a question that she was not supposed to ask, not like this. Byakuya’s expression did not alter.

“Of course. Many suggested your cousin but I didn’t want a wife who’s barely of age. Unfortunately, most women in their twenties are already married, and most widows are older than me or have children, both unacceptable for a man in my position as you will probably understand.” She nodded. There were so many rules and etiquettes when it came to finding the right spouse, especially for a man in his position, which was why so many were shocked when y/n was announced as his future wife. Byakuya had stepped on many toes with that decision. “So you were the only logical choice. You are, of course, still quite young, but that can’t be changed.”

For a moment She was stunned into silence by his emotionless reasoning. She was not as naïve as she used to be, but she would have hoped at least part of the reason why Byakuya had chosen her was that he was attracted to her, found her pretty, or at least fascinating to some extent, but this cold explanation destroyed that small flicker of hope.

“I’m twenty-five,” she exclaimed in a surprisingly calm voice. Maybe his aloofness rubbed off on her. If so, she would be known as the ice queen in no time. “That’s not young by our marriage standards.”

“Yes, still five years younger than me” He sounded as if she was forcing him to marry her, as if one of the rumors, as they say, that y/n is a witch is true. His previous wife was barely a year younger than him and they had shared good five years of married life until she died due to illness on a fine morning on a spring day.

“Then maybe you should look for another wife. I didn’t ask you to marry me.” The moment the words were out, y/n clamped a hand over her mouth, then met Byakuya’s gaze. He did not look angry, he did not look anything. His face was as it always was. Stoic and emotionless . “I’m sorry. That was very rude. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Byakuya has been sitting in the same manner as he did when he first took the armchair instead of the couch. He left the chair and walked towards her. With his hands now inside his slacks, his frame loomed over her. He took out his right hand, fisted, and kept the small velvet box on the side table. “Right. You shouldn't have.” Byakuya said as he noticed her eyes were still on the carpet. “But it's okay. I understand your concern.”

Her gaze flickered toward his right hand and her stomach plummeted. He was still wearing his old wedding ring. Another strange burst of disappointment filled her. If he wore it after all this time, he must still be in love with his dead wife, or was it a simple matter of habit? He noticed her gaze and for the first time his stoic mask slipped but it was gone so quickly that she thought she imagined it. Byakuya did not bother to explain and there was a knock on the door so he did not have the time either. With the exchange another set of pleasantries he left without a proper goodbye.

The wedding day came sooner than expected. She barely had the time to count days. And as the elders of the family discussed, it was small with no engagement ceremony but with just close family members and friends. Y/N did not object, actually, no one asked for her opinion except her husband. But it would make a great fuss if she were to bring her opinions to light. Moreover, she had more serious things to worry about. If Byakuya came to know that she still had her virtue intact, it would be just a matter of minutes for her before Byakuya puts all the puzzle pieces together to get the whole picture. He is a cold, clever man. So, mercy was the last thing y/n expected from him. Her previous husband, her not-so-dead husband fled with his lover because the rules and the customs would have kept them apart. And, if Byakuya had any clue of what happened at backstage he would turn the world upside down, at least he was expected to do so.

Y/N was finally able to catch up with her life when she was in the carriage with her new husband. There was no time to decipher him with all the people around. This night was going to be her first proper wedding night but Byakuya made sure that there was no chance of it at all. He did not seem tired, or interested in her. She could not pin any moment where she caught him looking at her, not even once. Dread and relief filled her at the same time. By now it is okay to accept that she was the problem, not her fate, or him. Perhaps, she can keep the secret of her previous marriage enjoying the little freedom she has left in her life.

The next morning was gorgeously sunny. When Y/N came downstairs she already found Byakuya on the other side of the dining table, with his breakfast and a rolled paper on a tray by his side. God knows, what news it holds? At least, not the one she was anticipating.

“I hope you slept well.” Byakuya broke the stifling silence that had made her think of all the possibilities that could end her life thinking of the contents of the letter. “I’ve already informed the staff to be here. Yesterday was an exception. Hope you did not have much problem without the staff not being around. They will be here at your beck and call, so you do not— was he mocking?

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Is something bothering you?” she nodded letting him know that there was no reason at all with a flimsy smile on her face. She could barely focus on eating the food. Byakuya noticed it too. “I thought you needed time.” his voice was coaxed with an apology. Of course. Byakuya would give her the very thing he was deprived of, for it had been his necessity too; Y/N’s glance switched to him and then to the food again. He did not look sorry though.

“As I said, That’s very kind of you.” She grabbed the tea cup and was ready to leave since there was no one to keep tabs on her etiquette and as such. If he wanted the marriage to work, then why should she keep trying all the time? all these hopes and anticipation would be the death of her if not the secret she is carrying with her.

“There will be a social gathering. On March 14th. You’re expected—She looked over her shoulder as the sound of the dragging chair made it to her ears. Byakuya hesitated before he spoke the rest, “I would like you to come with me.”

“Sure.”

Sure. Byakuya had his reasons to act the way he is acting. He was aware of the details of her marriage. Before visiting her, he made sure to do a background check and he did regret it when he recognized her previous husband. He had seen him in the land of the living. And, now he was not sure where exactly her loyalties lie: to him or to the man who left her. For now, he had no time to think about it. There were some grave matters that he had to handle.

Crest-fallen, a week prior to the gathering Ginrei Kuchiki took his last breath. There were lots of preparations and ceremonies to be done, but at the same time he could not afford to miss the meeting and so it all came down to y/n who had to shoulder most of the responsibilities while Byakuya just paid a visit to the meeting.

Time flew by as if someone were stealing it from them. Even though they spent the days under the same roof, Byakuya barely had a chance to speak to her or make things right. By the time he came to bed, she had already fallen asleep or was too tired to stay awake. Byakuya has been a light sleeper anyways. He often waited for her to be perfectly asleep so that he could slip under the same covers as hers. Y/N was too disappointed and angry to notice the small changes in him, in his gestures. Not that she tried, she did but Byakuya brushed her off every time. It was such a slow poison for her. She had made up her mind not to consummate this marriage unless they were asked for a child but fate never goes along with the human will. It opposes, always .

“You’re early,” Y/N said as Byakuya entered the room. Seeing her in a flimsy nightgown he looked away from her. She scowled when she noticed him looking away.

“Could you wait for me? I need to refresh myself. I want to talk about something.”

Ah! finally, it's happening. She gave him a simple nod and slipped under the covers. Perhaps it was about an heir, or shifting into a different house or maybe a visit to other families or so; Y/N had no idea that her secret was going to slap her in the face.

“I see. How long have you been aware?” Y/n asked still facing away from him while Byakua was seated on the bed. “Since before our marriage.” Y/n turned and sat folding her legs, covering herself so that he does not have to look away while talking. “Ah! That’s why the cold shoulder.”

“No. No. I was just—

“Just thought that I might have a secret lover too?

Byakuya closed the gap a little, “Well, do you?”

“Does it matter?”

Does it matter? Of course, it does. Byakuya did not respond not yet but Y/N could see his jaw tightening, muscles stiffing at the mere possibility of a ‘yes’.

She interjected, “Yeah! Thought so.” and left the bed, his sight heading towards the bathroom but Byakuya grabbed her hand and pulled her in his lap. She gasped loudly at such a sudden swift motion but more than so his bold voice declaring something so unexpected something so unbelievable that it turned her on more than it should. “Yes. it matters. It matters to me because I would be bothered, so much that I’m incapable of bearing the thought of losing you.”

Her breathing was heavy since not only his deep raspy voice stilled her motion but also made her thinking come to a halt. Byakuya slipped his hands under her gown earning a huge gasp as his lips touched her bare shoulders. Her body responded quickly, she arched feeling his cold and calloused fingers on her breasts, pinching her areola. “Tell me,”, his voice coated her skin with goosebumps, “do you want this, with me?” She turned her face, eyes holding the tears back, blurring her vision. She was burning with desire. How could she not?

“Yes.” Byakuya’s hands traveled down to her core, rubbing gently on her clit over the cloth. It was already damp. She could barely process all of these while his voice hinted impatience again, “then, tell me where you involved with him, in his act?”

Her grasp on his thighs tightened as she struggled to stand up on her feet. With all the dim lights around it was not of any help. Byakuya pushed aside the fabric and touched the outer lips with more pressure than before. “Do you not want me?” Y/N has torn apart between keeping her self-respect and submitting her to him. She had tried countless times to get his attention, tried every lewd way to lure Byakuya that made her feel like nothing but a cheap whore.

“Do you not want me?” she managed to utter thinking of all those nights when she had to go to bed feeling like a mistress rather than a wife.

Byakuya verbalized holding her in his embrace tightly. “Yes. I do. I really do.”His voice reeked of agony and loneliness, his touch was so desperate yet so gentle. Y/N read him wrong, he was not playing games anymore.

—

⌗ :: @sailewhoremoon @massivementalitynut @tokyometronetwork @underratedcharactercorner

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 years

Text

Touch your Tail - Obey me

Levi

“Can I touch your tail?”

“W-W-W-What?????” Levi stammered out, turning to you with a shocked expression. Followed by the quintessential de-powering sound of a video game player death. “Oh no Yumi!”

“Geez. Sorry I asked.”

You didn’t think asking to touch Levi’s tail would be this much of a drama. But, then again, you weren’t really surprised. The otaku demon almost always spazzed out over any kind of physical interaction; from holding hands to even sitting close to each other. You just never thought he’d freak out enough to lose focus in his video game. That was certainly new.

“W-W…Why do you want to touch it?”

“I don’t know. I just sort of realized I never had, and wanted to.” This was far as your plan went, and you hadn’t thought it would take this long to get through it.

“B-B-But! It’s private!” Levi sputtered out. The tips of his ears bright red. “Why would you want to touch a crumby otaku tail like mine anyway?”

“Because I think it’s cool.” You reply with a shrug.

“C-C-C-Cool!?!”

“Levi, if you keep overacting and getting flustered to the point of stammering all the time, we’re never going to get anywhere.”

The demon, who’s face had turned pink now, whined a little down in his chest before he set his shoulders, closed his eyes tight, and shifted into his demon form. His tail coiling out behind him as his horns poked out from his purple hair.

His tail is a lot bigger than you realized, now that you were up close. Usually you were standing a few feet away from him. Not crisscross-applesauce on the floor of Levi’s room in his gaming nook. Perhaps that played a factor as well.

You reach out and brush his tail with your fingertips. The cool scales glisten under your touch. Like those holographic picture books that you had as a kid. They feel very snake like, and you suddenly wonder if his beloved Henry 1 felt the same way if you touched him.

“O-Ok! That’s enough!”

You look up at Levi’s muffled declaration. His hands covering his nose and mouth, while his face was as red as a tomato. “I can’t take it anymore! I yield!”

Pulling back with a snicker, you stop touching Levi’s tail and hand him a box of tissues. “I you really going anime trope #187 on me right now?”

“N-N-No!” He insisted, but took the tissues and turned around quickly so you couldn’t see.

Satan

“Can I touch your tail?”

The question seemed to catch Satan so off guard he nearly fell off the library ladder he was standing on. “Excuse me?”

“Can I touch your tail?” You repeated, although not sure why you had to. Satan was a clever man. He should have understood what you were asking, as it was a simple request made with simple words.

The blonde’s delicate brow knitted and he put the book in his hand away before grabbing another one, seemingly at random. “No.”

“Aww…why not?”

“Because,” he replied as he stepped down, “it’s….inappropriate.”

Satan walked off, but you were quick in toe. “Is it a kinky demon thing?”

“No.”

“Is like touching things behind a velvet rope inappropriate?”

“NO.”

“Then how is it inappropriate?”

“It just is ok?!” Satan snapped at you as he wiped around to shout the words at you. “How would you feel if I touched something private of yours?”

You look at Satan for a moment before you wiggle your eyebrows at him. Causing Satan to blush. “Why do you want to touch it anyway?”

Honestly, you didn’t have a good answer. So you just shrug. “I don’t know. I realized I never had before. Then I thought, cats sometimes like it when you pet their tails. Maybe Satan would like that too.” It was a dirty trick to use Satan’s one weakness against him.

But it seemed to work as the demon stiffened for a moment, huffed through his nose, and then shifted into his demon form. “Quick. Before someone comes back here looking for some obscure Amaltian literacy text.”

There was a quick quip on your tongue about how the only one in the library that would be looking for obscure Amaltian text, or anything in this back portion of the library, was Satan, but you choose to let it go since you were getting your way.

His tail was a lot more spiney than you thought it would be. Like a skeleton tail. All the vertebra nearly stacked one after the other like on a Halloween skeleton you’d seen once. The tail a bright, ominous green to stay away.

“Ouch!” You yip as you ran your fingers over a section, and a sharp spot nicked your skin.

“Damnit!” Satan hissed. Instantly shifting out of his demon form and taking your hands in his. “Let me see.” He examined your finger carefully, then sighed in relief as he saw no injury. “This is why I didn’t want you to touch it. I’m the Demon of Wrath. My tail, and everything about me, is meant for violence. I knew you’d get hurt if you insisted on this.”

Your face, and mood, fell. You felt silly and stupid for pressuring him into this, and not taking the hint when offered. “I’m sorry. I just…thought it would help us get closer.” You look up at Satan and stare into his bright green eyes. “And, for the record: I don’t think everything about you is meant for violence.”

The corner of Satan’s mouth jutted up and he muttered, “silly human.” Before he kissed the pad of your ‘wounded’ finger and walked hand and hand with you out of the library.

Belphie

“Can I touch your tail?”

Belphie looked up from his pillow. He even brushed his hair out of his face to look at you. “Hentai.”

Your face turned immediately red, and you move to jump up from the bed and sprint out of there. You’d Deviltube how the movie ended.

Before you could get too far, Belphie caught your hand gently to keep you there. “I’m sorry. I was teasing. What brought this on?”

“I-I don’t know….” You felt rather embarrassed now and didn’t want to tell him that it looked soft the last time you saw it. “I just though….it was something new….”

The youngest demon brother smiled listlessly, and shifted effortlessly into his demon form. “Go ahead.” He replied, curling around his pillow as he unfurled his tail. “But then I get to touch something of yours.”

You choose not to dignify that with a response, but also too prideful to back out now.

His tail was long and thick. Thicker than you had imagined. Perhaps you thought it would be narrower like a cat or some kind of mouse, but it actually took your whole hand to wrap around it. It also wasn’t as soft as you thought.

It was soft, enough, but the fur on his tail was a little courser. Like velvet in a way. The hair at the tip of his tail was very soft though, and also very fine.

“Is there a twig stuck in your tail?” You ask, coming around the small piece of wood trapped in the fine hair nest you had been admiring. “How could you have a twig in here? You’re like…never in your demon form. How long has it been here? Do you ever brush it out? Belphie I…..”

You trail off as you realized Belphie was asleep. Apparently lulled there by your soft pets (or perhaps because he hadn’t had a nap in an hour). “Well, guess I’m off the hook.” You mutter to yourself as you let his tail go and let him sleep.

Barbatos

“Can I touch your tail?”

Barbatos continued to pour the tea, as if he completely missed what you had asked him. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Why?” You asked as he handed you your cup. “Is it poisonous?”

The demon chuckled. “No. It’s not poisonous. It’s just not something that I think you’d like to touch. It has a rather unappealing texture, for some people.”

You pout as you bite your tongue to not ask who else had touched Barbatos tail. “The RAD News said that your tail had a wet texture, but it wasn’t slimy.”

“Don’t believe everything you read in print.” He cautioned, before taking a sip of his own tea. After a moment, and long pause, Barbatos sat his cup on the saucer and sat the set down. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

You want to say yes. That you could be a grown up and let this go, but apparently your silence was enough of an answer for Barbatos and he shifted into demon form. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His tail coiled out from behind him and reached out towards you, while you did the same with your hand. The paper had been right; it did feel wet, but not slimy. Sort of like how snakes & lizards always felt kind of damp even if they weren’t. His tail was pretty though. The bright blues winkled and sparkled back at you at your touch. It really was fascinating.

Your fingers continued to touch over the scales, when suddenly one of the dual tips in your hand broke off and you were suddenly holding a big chunk of Barbatos’s tail in your hand while the rest of it slithered away. “Oh dear…..”

You broke out in a scream. Dropping the tail on the ground and nearly climbing over the top of your chair to get away if Barbatos hadn’t stopped you. “[Y/N], [Y/N]! Calm down.”

“Calm down?!” You shriek back.

“Yes. Calm down.” The demon repeated, and showed you his tail. Already two pronged again at the end. “It’s a bad, unsightly habit my tail does when it’s touched for too long. It thinks someone is trying to get a hold of it, so it’s a defense mechanism.”

“You didn’t think to warn me about that?!”

“I honestly forgot.” ‘Forgot??’ You want to yell at him. “It’s been an exceedingly long time since anyone has touched my tail. I genuinely didn’t think about it. Or perhaps thought that it would behave if it was you.”

You hear Barbatos’s apology and slowly climb down back into your seat; and back into your skin. “A million possibilities of reality, and you didn’t think that this could be one?”

The demon chuckled at your remark about his powers. “Whenever you’re around there are just too many possibilities to count.” He told you. “But, I do apologize. Lets finish our tea and, hopefully by then, I’ll have come up with some possibility to make it up to you.”

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pieroulette · 1 year

Text

L♡VE $CAM – part 1

2023 | 18+ | 13K | ONESHOT × 3 PARTS | DARK ROMANCE TROPE

> short teaser <

With the fancy outer cover of the book being the prince saving his damsel in distress from the cruel, harsh world; it's only wise to assume that the inner pages consists of "happily ever after". However, rip the pages off and take off your rose-coloured glasses and see that the prince was never a prince, and the damsel in distress won't always be a damsel in distress.

GENRE slow burn romance, comedy, angst, character-driven story.

WARNING scammer! heeseung, prostitute! reader, reader is a bad bitch, prostitution, degradation, manipulation, red flags idk, Heeseung has a rotten view on women in general, messed up beliefs, and more to be updated on the next parts—also just in case, since it's slow burn don't expect any smut in PT 1 lol.

The little boy drew on the surface of his blooming world with the mighty sword within his fingers, swaying it up and around with a wide big grin on his face as a low volume of the sunshower emitting outside the huge glass window right beside him—the vibrance of the sun shone on his world, furthering the beauty before his very eyes. “Pretty, pretty!” he exclaimed in utter grin.

A tiny chime echoes through the house, coming from the doorbell itself.

He turned over his shoulder to greet his mother but was taken aback by the unusual sight; his mother carried a rather solemn aura, a stark contrast of how she used to everyday. That was one thing, however the perfect picture he had always been patient to wait for everyday was ruined by the empty hollow spot beside his mother.

His mother went to the kitchen, sitting quietly after she was done with pouring herself a cup of tea. It was different but little Heeseung stayed silent, fiddling his fingers as he also sat back to his usual spot—beside the couch, pencil colours brushing the white paper emitting through the disquiet atmosphere.

A fair hour had passed within a blink of an eye, yet his mother stayed in the same spot not budging even a inch resembling a lifeless doll. It brought an uneasiness in the little boy, searching for a way to soothe such an atmosphere yet he doesn’t how. How?

His round, joy-filled eyes beamed upon a thought—picking his mighty sword back to his little fingers and started to adorn a new piece of canvas with little doodles.

“Mom! Look.. what I draw!”

A huge castle stood brave, strong and still on the hard soil ground. It carries this prestigious aura looming yet the beautiful lawns were decorated with brightly coloured and blooming flowers—yielding a perfect mixture of a strong home yet warm and gentle or more so like a pair of arms wrapped around you—strong and gentle. Peeking through the open windows with the tied up curtains flowing gracefully, through the plumpy soft bed; a princess sat in her big, giant castle all alone by herself in hopes for her prince to come and save her from the witch caging her inside that place. But to her surprise, an armour came into view standing before her eyes as she slowly looked up to the wearer; a gentle smile adorning his lips—a warrior came for her instead. It was as if the canvas came to life. Their feet begin to gently rise, fall, spin, and halt—and the whole process repeats again.

Flipping through the pages, surfaces the image of the princess grabbing the warrior's extended palms. Little Heeseung was ecstatic observing his mother, his little fingers clutching on their own along with the colours popping up on the princess' dress. Little did he know, the colours weren't doing its wonders in the reflection of his mother’s orbs.

Hollow, hollow it was.

“This is mom and dad!” the little boy explained.

His mother sighed through his nose before looking up. "Heeseung-ah. ." He didn't hear much of it or rather his surroundings was consumed by the rain overthrowing the sunny clouds—to him, mother’s voice being submerged in the growing ocean.

It was suffocating despite the fact he didn't know what was suffocating, he just couldn't reach for the air even though the air was there. What was mom saying? He forgot though, like the child he was as the next day came and he continued his next piece of drawing. Still wondering where his father was as another spiral loop of forgetfulness consumes the little boy as soon as he gets back to his new piece of drawing to show to his mother—in hopes that such expression won't surface on her face again.

His mother would never say a word of compliment yet she would turn the drawings he gave into a wooden frame—hanging it on the yellow wall of their living room. A silent love. Soon the walls were adorned with many, many frames—each consisting of mundane yet simple days of the princess and warrior’s together; the princess and the warrior eating together for dinner. Next day, a drawing of the princess's hair being brushed by the warrior. Next day, the warrior brought a pet fish for the princess and together they raised it.

How long has it been? Has it been a week? A month, or a year? Today's dinner was lacking. The plates once had a big fish on the plate yet today it is smaller in size and has a lesser portion of rice. He stayed silent though, maybe today was just a different case.

“Mom, when’s dad going to be back home?” His question was met with silence yet notices the brief pause of his mother from taking the spoonful of rice—she stretched out her hand to rub the boy’s little ones.

“Soon.” a reassuring smile surfaces amidst the solemn dining room.

Only a bowl of soup. Next day, there's only a small portion of food and it was only him who was eating, his mother was just sitting with him urging him to eat. Why? What's happening?

Today, he was starving but still had the same beaming energy to finish his drawing before the clock strikes, signifying his mother's return.

A soft chime echoes.

Bringing his piece of canvas to show to his mother with happiness, though it ceased to exist when not only did his mother appear—the empty spot beside her was consumed by an unfamiliar face. Tall, big and burly. Was that his dad?

“D-dad?”

"This, your kid?" little Heeseung twitched against the deep voice, not at all the gentle voice he remembered. This wasn’t his dad. How many months had it passed without the familiar presence he’d been yearning for?

An abashed laugh emits from his mother as her hand brushes the man's arm, "Don't mind the boy, he won't disturb us."

"Hm, boy. Why don't you go outside and have fun with your friends then?"

"I don't have friends.”

Little Heeseung stood still as he observed the enclosed white patterned door—the door in which his mother went in through with that man—a room he still remembers his father going in through once before. The boy’s attention fell upon the pit patter of rain falling outside.

Sun rose up in the sky, the door pushed open as he waited for his mother per his usual routine—he was met with the sight of his mother being with a man again, however this time it was a different face. Next day, next day, next day. Different days, different faces, yet it was vivid in his mind—the pale dusty green paper that all the men placed on his mother’s hand.

Till the day of his 15th birthday, a big fat expensive cake was presented before him on the table. Balloons, and cards of heartfelt wishes were splattered all over the table along with presents. Behind him, there stood the yellow painted wall adorned with numerous frames—a stark contrast of what was before him—an unfamiliar face on the end of the table, whose arms were tangled in his mother's.

Disgusting.

Heeseung saw nothing but red as he grabbed the guy's arm, twisting it and bending it so hard to the point he's screaming.

"S-stop! I beg of you! Please stop!" your desperate voice had him frozen for a second. Pathetic, fragile, weak, and petite. You were all those words.

A woman in a sly attire appeared with her arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in a way that she finds the entire commotion amusing, her voice heightening sparks a stark contrast from her sultry face. “What in the actual fuck is happening here?!”

Everyone halted at once, snapping their heads to the woman.

Heeseung observed from his side eye as you stuttered, being unable to form coherent words, patted your back in hopes to soothe you.

"Hm, who are you?" a question directed to Heeseung himself yet before he could answer—came out the cries of pain from the men themselves. "I bought her with my fucking money and say, why don't you tell it to this bastard, that girl—" he pointed at you with eyes shot wide open in rage, "She belongs to me now."

The woman didn’t have to hear the entire news to understand the weight of the situation before her; the battered, ragged form of the men and your shuddered form in a tall dashing man whose arms were wrapped around you, rubbing you as if you were his lover, despite the obvious trickles of blood seeping out from his cheeks—amused she was as she can't suppress her stifle laugh.

"Ah, ah. How amusing. I didn't know our dear (Name) would have a fair bunch of guys lusting after her isn't it?" she glances at you, “The name’s Yunjin in case you’re curious. We’ll have to settle this in a humane way, everyone.”

"So fucking what now?" The men spat out.

The woman spinned around her heels, motioning for you all to follow her as she let out an audible chuckle, fingers beneath her chin. "What else could be the perfect way than solving it with extra money?"

A huge manor stood tall and firm on the hard ground almost resembling of that a castle yet the overall vibe; the dusty grey walls, splattered dark stains on the pillars and corners of each wall, the extravagant colourful lights flickering around the board hanging on the main entrance— truly living up to its name—a brothel fitting for such a situation— dark windows with some of them left open for cool breeze to flow in through, several women ranging from all sorts of age had their backs leaning against the grey cold wall with their hands stretched out as if to lure men into their respective quarters—those that smells old reeking money and insatiable lust.

It was Heeseung's first time to ever be in such a place but the smell, the thick perfume, bold powders, the disgusting lewd sounds echoing throughout the space, the alcohol, women throwing themselves upon other men and so on — was all too familiar. A long, deep aisle stretched out before them which led them to another hallway with closed doors on either side—private quarters that were obvious for a reason.

They went through a vast room with its ceiling high up in the air, resembling of what seems like a ballroom yet engulfed in the same vibe as the main entrance–there stood a woman in black exquisite attire yet contrary to Yunjin, her attire was somewhat modest.

"Hm? What brings you back here again, darling?" Heeseung noticed the question was no one but for you whose heads were hanging down the entire time.

Yunjin leans closer into her ear—the woman gasped in a somewhat exaggerated manner, "Ah, ah. Then what's your name, child?"

"Lee Heeseung."

"Then may I ask why do you have to stick your nose in someone's business? I do not see where you have to do such a disrespectful thing."

“I just can’t bear to see them touch her like that.”

"So you want her?" A smirk grow on the woman's lips.

"Yes."

"But I already fucking bought her!—"

She raised her hand instantly, motioning for them to stay silent.

"Oh dear, did I hear that right? Don't you think it's a waste of money to buy a used product? They already bought her with their money. Besides, we had other girls you might find more interesting than (Name)."

"I don't care. I'll bring her with me, tell me how much they paid for her and I'll double the amount." Heeseung repeated. "Just tell me how much you want."

"Perfect." The woman's dark red lips tugged up in the slightest grin. "5,000 won. They paid 5,000 won. How much can you bargain, dear?"

"Make it 7,000 won then." a series of gasps followed.

"Fuck as if I'll let you," the man bares his teeth, "9,000 won."

"10,000 won."

"15,000 won!"

"18,000."

The commotion had the entire people round the space with eyes ogling at the never-ending uprising price.

"This is the last one, 65,000 won!"

"150,000 won." Heeseung looks at the man with contempt, “If you aren’t still satisfied then i’ll give you 500,000 won and an additional 20,000 more if you leave us the fuck alone.”

“Fuck, I wonder what you see in her.” Yunjin covered her eat-shitting grin with her hand, seemingly pleased by the entire situation.

"THE FUCK?!" downright shock etched all over their face, unable to believe the ogling amount spread before their eyes.

"So? Can I take her with me?" Heeseung asked with one eyebrow raised, as if the 6 digits weren’t a tad bit of a hassle for him.

"Sweet, it's a deal then." The woman answered, "However I prefer cash instead of a meaningless piece of card. You do know how this little organisation of ours works, right?"

A brief pause had Heeseung in a thought, looking down he did before answering, "Fine."

"Perfect, perfect! Look, the time is fairly 3:06pm. Make sure to bring it by 5pm or else we can't guarantee she would still be here. Time equals money, dear sir."

Heeseung spun his heels to face you with eyes trying to comfort you, closing the distance between you as he spoke, "I'll be back, wait for me."

You nodded, blinking in uneasiness. "P-please.."

With that, Heeseung went off. His form disappearing into the sea of crowds. Your eyes glued to the distance, wondering if he'll do as he promised.

"Wait— you can't be serious?! How about my fucking money??" The men won't shut up since then.

"There's still plenty of beauties residing in these quarters, gentlemen. Consider checking some, who knows you might have a change of heart?"

"I don't fucking care. I want her." The man pointed at you with bare teeth.

"If you still don't understand—what we have here is nothing but a business, sir. Whoever pays the highest amount of money shall get whichever and how many maiden they please to— and you obviously don’t have one."

"Do I look like I give a shit?!-"

BONK!

“Agh! Agh! Yunjin stop!”

Sighing through her nose, “Quit it will you? You’re becoming too invested in your roles for fuck’s sake, Jake.”

“We can’t help it, duh.” Jake puffed, then turned to face you in beaming eyes. “Madame! We did good right?! We could get an Oscar for this, fuck they should hire us.”

You gave him a thumbs up before looking out from the door once again and that simple gesture of yours brought a big smile on Jake's face and on the others—they bow with an immense respect for you before leaving.

“Yunjin! You could hire us to act for you next time then!—"

"Bish— for what?"

Hm? Would he come or not?

Twirling your hair round the tips of your fingers as you leaned against the doorframe, observing the sea of crowds waiting for that particular stranger. Would your plan fail or work? One, two, step forward, step backward you did as you spun around on the centre of the manor, your battered brown skirt flowing in a circular motion as your hands stretched wide open.

Would he come? You couldn’t care a bit less as you still had a fair line of men waiting to kneel before you.

Dawn painted over the once blue sky, replacing the feathery snow clouds with gold-veined ones. Sea of neon lights flickers through the stretched out line of the town—a low volume of flamboyant music spirals along with human’s desire to hide in this town—a shelter where humans shed off their outer layer of skin.

The woman in black attire approaches from behind you, “Madame, he’s here.”

“Hm?” fingers beneath your lower lip as the corners tugged up to kiss your growing smirk. Well, he had dug his own grave with his own hands. How pathetic. Meeting his dreamy eyes fixated on your form, replacing your bold fingers to fiddle the hem of your sleeves, looking down to avoid his intense ones.

You didn't expect it a tad bit that's why it gave you a fair surprise when he came in through the main entrance, his tall frame and dashing aura, with a suitcase in his tight grasp. Was he that enamoured by you? Who knows? There's still a fair amount of time to confirm such suspicions as much as you're compelled to believe it, after all you don't need him to like you—you need him to fall in love with you till he's willing to surrender his body, his soul, his heart and most importantly—his money.

“I told you I’ll come back.”

“H-ha, sir! Thank you for saving me.” Your soft ones hold onto his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Your eyes hold utmost sincerity in it, gasping when he looks back at you with his intense ones. You gulped your throat, "Thank you for saving me. I'm really .. bad at this, I really don't know how I can repay you."

Meticulous planned lies, the same lies you uttered to people or to be exact, men — those with ogling eyes laced with lusts, hands dying to grab a woman's body, lips that won't wait for an immediate contact. Playboys, old men, nerds, boys next door, those that held an angelic appearance—you played them all. How embarrassing. This man before you was no different, he'll be at your mercy sooner and later. Likewise, a fair amount of time should be wise to take this seemingly gentleman down to his demise.

You observed as Heeseung's eyes softened against your nervous acts—almost wanted to melt before your quivering, fragile form; head hanging down, your hands trembling against his fingers as you tugged it. Of course, you'd spent years refining such petty acts designed to make men fall for it.

An audible chuckle akin to an angel's whisper, feathery and gentle hits your ears. "I'm only doing what is right to do."

"B-but why me?" You asked, "The-there's plenty of other girls inside. Why don't you save them too?"

Heeseung wondered how dense you could be to ask such a folly question, but suppressed the need to voice it out. "I’m afraid my wallet will turn dry in doing so."

Your expression screams ignorance and naivety.

Well, does he even need to wonder with your overalls? Yet, it was your fragile form that had him wanting to save you. Probably. In fact, that wasn't the only reason. “Don’t worry, someday someone will save them too.” or perhaps never, Heeseung thought to himself.

“M-may I know what’s your?..”

“Oh shit, I forgot to introduce myself didn’t I? Heeseung, Lee Heeseung. What’s yours?”

"Sr. Heeseung?.." you repeated his name under your breath—silence, silence it was that you forgot to answer back.

"H-Hey?"

"Oh? Uhm yes?" You pressed your lips in a tight manner.

"Care to give me your name?"

"(Name).."

"Pretty name, I wonder how did you even get to a place like that? It doesn't look like you're a local around here, anyways."

You look down, and he notices you fiddling your fingers between the hem of your dirty old skirt.

"It's okay, you don't have to answer."

"I was sold off."

"Oh. Thats— that's fucked up." Heeseung exhales, looking up to the sky before taking your hands in his, much to your surprise, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, you’re safe with me.”

Safe.. huh?

“W-where are we going? Sir?”

“I don’t have any idea yet but for now let’s go back to my apartment.”

You pursed your lips in a nervous manner.

A gentle giggle emits from the man, “Don’t worry, I can’t possibly let you live on the street, though.”

The conversation eventually died down as the cascading silence engulfed the entire space—silent yet serene it was with the dense greeny forests coming into view, the road filled with sorts of vehicles surfaced, the beaming green light alarming the drivers to go in through to all sorts of directions, the passing yellow vehicle with children in their little hops spilling out as an old woman guided them to a straight line, the low volume of cafes and speakers were emitting from afar, the lovely scene of the sun setting from the surface of the sky as it's deep orange hues painted the street the road, and a few minutes later a tall high buildings finally came into view.

You looked out from the window feigning amazement with your mouth hanging apart much to Heeseung’s amusement as he pulled up the car in the parking spot and a security guard approached to check his ID.

“Come.” he reached out his hands for you to take as you stepped off from the car. “This is where I stay.”

“Woah.” you exclaimed as you observed this luxury high-end apartment.

Heeseung taps a series of digits through the door’s handle—sadly, you were getting tired feigning fascination over the entire course, suppressing the need to roll your eyes when he guided you inside his apartment.

"That— That's so amazing!" your mouth gaped. “I-i’m sorry, it’s my first time.. My place is so deep in the village. I don't always have the chance to go out, it was a chance that only lucky ones had."

Heeseung couldn't suppress his chuckle, eyes crinkling in obvious amusement. "There’s no need to say sorry, I could understand why. In fact, I couldn’t guarantee I won't act the same way as you."

You gazed at all the expensive furniture, almost brushing your finger against the decorations on top of it before halting immediately.

Heeseung noticed your hesitance, "Don't worry, you can touch it."

Your eyes sparkled at his given permission and you immediately stroked your finger against the cold and exquisite material of the object, marvelling at its meticulous patterns — a masterpiece of a craftsman.

"Got a thing for this type of stuffs?"

"Hm. . Yes." You nodded somewhat ecstatic. “It’s so pretty..”

Heeseung went inside his room, pulling out a piece of shirt and pants that surely would look oversized on you—apologising in advance as he placed it on your shivering ones, "This might look big on you but I promise we'll get some for you tomorrow."

Eyes widening in fractions, you shook your head as you pulled your hands up. "T-there's no need to! you've already d-done so much for me, I.. really don't know where to keep my face already."

An audible chuckle escapes from his lips, looking down in mild amusement. "You're so adorable."

"Eh?!" you gasped.

"I mean?—"

A loud ring emits up in the air, interrupting him much to his annoyance. “I’ll take this phone first, just take a look around okay?”

You nodded in an ecstatic manner, observing his back as he disappeared into the corners of the walls. A low sigh, eyes darting around the space—softened ones growing into a menacing gaze.

In this vast spacious living room—that interior was somewhat really baffling for you. It wasn't your first time to be in such a place, even more so the place you've been in before was much bigger, marvellous and higher in status than this one.

Not that it matters now anyways.

With your expression growing disinterested in each passing second, you sighed dejectly as you halted your steps before a painting. He must have bought this a few years ago, what a great taste.

But too bad, too unfortunate — stroking the painting slowly at a delicate pace, he won't have much money in his pockets to buy anything like this anymore.

Crossing your arms as you tilted your head to one of the drawers, being aware of any hidden devices inside the apartment — you scanned the place and as expected, there's none. Truly, your experience in that place has given you a fair skill with a fair price.

Your eyes fell on an open box of a luxury watch inside it, holding the need it in between your fingers, scoffing that you'll have to take it slow and nice before even proceeding with your first move. Frightened that he might be suspicious of you real quick and you can't risk that.

Patience, patience.

After all, a human being's demise is his own impatience, an inability to bring into one's composure is an approaching deathbell.

“I told you we’re done, there’s no need to consider anything further.” Heeseung bares his teeth with the phone beneath his ears, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance despite how he tried to make his voice as civil as possible. “Fine then, one last meeting to settle everything.” hanging up, he lets out a long deep sigh before turning to the direction from where you’re from—the corners of his faint cherry lips slowly tugging up in a mischievous smirk.

“Why is there a need when I have you right here wrapped round the tip of my finger?” says Heeseung as he walks back to where you are in a leisure manner, head tilting down and eyes gleaming in sinister plans.

Baffling it was, as always, his tricks often worked. "(Name), was it?" Your name tasted sweet in his lips, on the tip of his tongue, and like that his cherry lips tugged up in a mischievous grin and his eyes squinting in amusement.

Getting the money was no hard task for him for it was years worth of cultivated money, obviously from the girls he had fooled.

He went through all that trouble only because he was fascinated by your naivety, different from most girls he fooled or encountered. You were so dumb and absolutely untainted from the dirty stains of this world that he wanted to be the first person to show you the true colours of it. Bored of the same patterns and criterions of his previous victims, he desired for a whole new different toy and it just happened when his eyes laid on you.

The moment he sees you in that pathetic form of yours, the desire to completely ruin you arises inside the depths of his rotten heart. It grows even more when the head of the brothel confirms your innocence, the fact that you were only sold up until a few days ago, that it was today you were bought. You reminded him so much of a particular someone.

He himself was never that prince nor warrior everyone wanted to be. He's fed up, fed up of being thought of as one, fed up with the way all these girls lust after him and nevertheless he still took bliss in it. Always wrecking their dreams apart and shattering it because he likes to see it. No, he just doesn’t like it. He completely loves it.

Ah, what a sweet luck he got to be bestowed with another toy to play with, another pretty toy to rip apart and show to her that the world isn't as pretty nor as colourful as she wishes to.

He's bored. He had a lot of bucks inside his pockets, a result of his scamming people or ladies to be exact, he needed something to toy around with for awhile. And you happen to be his perfect toy; an innocent lady with a fairy tale dream for this world. Heeseung doesn't think he's so evil for showing you the real canvas of this disgusting world, after all he's doing you a favour.

"Thank you for saving me?" Heeseung scoffed in amusement, "You'll thank me later."

Lies, lies, what could be more sinister than a bunch of lies woven together in a disguised form of your favourite fairy tale books?

“Hey.” The way your eyes shot up, rosy cheeks and trembling lips had him almost baffled but suppressed his grin from growing any further. It was only a few minutes that he left you here and yet he already fucking missed it, excited to his core to start his plans in ruining you but he should take it slow, he thought. For where is the fun of rushing? “So- how was it? Got any paintings that caught your sight?’

“H-hmm! They’re all particularly nice. I couldn't choose.” your head hangs down avoiding his gaze.

“I guess I can take that as a compliment then?” Heeseung smiles down at you, his hand finding its way to rub your arm as if to comfort you. “Hey, it’s okay. Wanna grab something to eat?” he said as he extended his hand out for you.

You were so painfully shy, cheeks burning red, eyes looking down to avoid his gaze, your fingers tucking your hair behind your ear every now and then, your wavering form as you can't keep your feet from shivering ever so slightly, hands interlaced in front of your tummy as if to give yourself a slight comfort. Every expression surfacing from your face is ruining Heeseung's patience that he wanted to just ruin you right now.

Taking his hand once again as you look into his eyes, not surprised that he’s going this far for this fake innocent persona you had on you. Afterall, this persona was a bait meticulously curated for such a person. Turning his back around you and a disinterested look splattered on your face—rolling your eyes up to the ceiling and eyebrows pulling up. His back holding the expression that mirrors yours as he guided you to the dining room.

Eyes that held fake affection, lips that sang flattering lies, touches that screams absolute affection and yet the heart and mind conspires in each others' demise. You two were well trained in this department, after all.

'I wonder how many days it would take to ruin you?'

“Oh shit.” Heeseung hissed after pulling the fridge’s door open, his back bent down as his head pushed inside searching for anything before fixing his posture upright.

You raised your eyebrow. “Is there–?”

He spun around brushing the back of his neck in an abashed manner, letting out an awkward laugh. “Sorry, I think I forgot to fill up my fridge.. My work had really put me through and through..” a lie, Heeseung snickered inside.

Your hands immediately shoot up as you shake your head, laughing. “It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m not that hungry anyways.. —It-it’s fine! Sir, you’ve really done so much in letting me stay the night here.”

“Uh..” Heeseung looks up to his cupboard and a bright smile adorns his face, “Would you mind a bowl of ramen then? Have you eaten it?”

Dripping raindrops hit the tall window before the dining room, gliding through and through till it hits the edges. The mixture of rain and the aroma of the boiling ramen was weirdly comforting. You rubbed your hands, pulling down your sleeves to cover your fingers.

“Here!” you turned to Heeseung as he placed the bowl of hot ramen before you, the spoon and a pair of chopsticks on both your sides. He then took his seat after placing his as well.

You took a brief sniff, eyes lighting up. “It smells so good!” taking a spoonful of soup and the twirled ramen on the tips of your chopstick onto your tongue. “The ramen tastes so good!” you exclaimed as radiant as ever. It did taste good, you thought.

“Right? Ramen is the only food I've been eating these days.” Heeseung smiled, “It’s my favourite too.”

“Isn’t th-that somewhat unhealthy?”

“Hm? It’s fine though, why bother to cook so much if you only eat alone, right?”

"I can see w-why.." you took another small sip from your spoon, indulging yourself in this tasty ramen.

Palms of his hands beneath his chin as his sparkling eyes observed you as you eat, he couldn’t help but find you endearing though. Endearing you were, as if you were going to break if you were given a cold harsh glare or a one touch would make you crumble apart in fear. How sweet, he thought—but how grateful could he be to be given such a entertaining sight—a toy—to play with and mess its contents onto the floor?

You almost choke on your food when you notice his eyes on you, wiping the corners of your mouth with the napkin from the table.

Heeseung eyes softened and muttered a small apology, telling you that it was just a tiny habit of his to observe someone while they eat or do something, that it was just.. “It’s just endearing to watch.”

Fuck. Such a cheesy line. You muttered within yourself. A coherent sentence a fool would only believe. Keeping the gentle smile on your lips as you kept on your shy demeanour. Son of a bitch thought he could fool me, you muttered on the back of your head as you smiled at him as you took a brief sip from the glass.

Heeseung had arranged the guest room for you before going off and telling you a simple goodnight much to your hidden displeasure and yet you kept the abashed smile on your face as it was simply your job afterall—to fool the living shit out of him and dig his cascading sea of money.

Through the mind of Heeseung however,

It won't take much time to make you succumb to him but he prefers to keep it slow, because where's the fun in revealing everything so quick? He wanted to see you rot in his touch, observe your innocence crumbles before his hands, fucked up expressions over your sweet dumb face, your trembling body writhing under his. Slow, fucking slow till he gets inside deep inside you.

His own personal toy, an ill-thought with a stark contrast over his gentle caress over your hair and cheek.

You weren’t asleep apparently, wondering if he’s about to do his first move but it gave you a mild surprise when the side of the bed was empty, the doors were closed and this bizarre serenity engulfing this room baffles you at most. You sighed through your nose, going through all your plans for tomorrow. Another day, another day.

Morning breathes its way through the sky once again. 8 o’clock strikes. Birds chirping in their own unique melody.

Today was the first morning. The first step of your plans in making the boy fall for you even harder than yesterday, you thought so as you stretched your arms upwards, pulling off the blankets from your body before standing up, looking around until you saw a sticky note on the table.

I’m out for groceries, i’ll be back before dawn. So don’t worry and make yourself feel like you’re home :) — Heeseung.

G-groceries? Your eyes twitched in annoyance as he would have woken you up and you’d had the chance to form a closer bond with him and yet he chose to do this? Fuck. Puffing in annoyance, you instead inspected the entire apartment.

“Home?” you inhaled the fresh scent engulfing the living room however the word tastes bitter on the tip of your tongue, though. You went around checking one and each of his belongings and to your surprise, there wasn’t that much of his things inside his room. It was fairly empty consisting of only the bed with blue sheets, and a few minor stuff. It was as if he didn't really live in this place.

As if his claims of living in this place since last year were mere lies. Weird, you thought.

Orange sunset poured over the blue rooftop. A soft chime, door creaking and faint sound of heels approaching. Ruffling his hair, there Heeseung came back in his casual fit, holding a bunch of plastic bags in his hands. His eyes fell upon your figure laying on the couch sound asleep with the TV turn on. The screen shone on the edges of your face.

You were truly a breathtaking sight as he watched you sleeping peacefully just like the precious and well taken care of you are.

He went to the kitchen, arranging the groceries he brought; one by one, to their respective categories; eggs, vegetables, meat, fish, beverages. This was the first time in awhile since he filled up the refrigerator, and even more so he couldn't help but chuckle over how insane he was for going this far — to the point he would treat you so well and good and then crush it sooner and later. Yet he couldn’t be bothered to cook for today as he wanted to test how far you were in your gullibility—lips tugged up in a small smirk as he separated the dishes he bought and placed them on the plate.

Eyes fluttering open at the sound of running water, you look over your shoulder to see him, preparing dinner. Train of memories flashes through your mind which had splattered a deep frown on your face.

"(Name)! Come here! C'mon, taste the food I made."

"Does it taste good?"

"Stop it! (Name)! Look, your lips are messy now. Cute."

Huh. What a bummer. Empty, hollow gaze quickly replaced with a beaming expression as your lips tugged up in a small grin, getting up on your feet as you strode off to the dining room to look at the dishes on the counter.

"Wah!" you sniffed in the dishes, “It smells so good.”

A low chuckle emitted from him, "Not that good, just learned it by myself. After all, I lived alone so it's only wise to learn some little life skills."

"It's still amazing.. Not all are can cook this good." you bit your lip. “Next time, c-can you let me accompany you outside for groceries, if you allow me that is.”

Heeseung looks down at you, your head hanging low makes him wonder if you’re really this painfully shy without him.

“Then let’s get you new boots and fits before we go out for groceries tomorrow.”

"R-really?"

Looking out from the window, today’s weather was calming to say the least. Placing the dishes on the table, you two sat together for dinner.

“Sr. Heeseung. Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a therapist.”

“Ha, I-i see..” you nodded.

“It’s a draining career, do you know my patient often racks up all the stuff after a meeting?” You feign laughter.

“How about you? What did you do before you happened to be in that place?” Heeseung asked.

Paused in mild surprise, you chuckled in an awkward manner. “I-I’m an artist.”

Munching the food in his mouth to pieces, his eyes widened slightly at your response, “Woah, an artist? That’s cool! What do you draw? Portraits? Animals?”

“Mostly portraits.” you answered, looking down to your plate. “If you want, I can draw a portrait of you, sir.”

“I would love to, but..” Heeseung pauses, lowering his spoon down to his plate. “Before that, it’s better to drop off the formals, you know? You no longer have to call me sir. Just call me Heeseung, after all we're the same age, aren’t we?”

“I-I don’t know if I can do that, sir—”

“C’mon just call me by my name.” he whined like a child.

“H-hee..”

His intense orbs looking into yours, as if hypnotising you even further. “I can’t hear you.” pouting, he pulls you closer.

“H-heeseung?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Louder.”

You had this growing smirk inside you as you could sense the atmosphere growing thicker and the tension between you was turning into a whole new different vibe—your plan doing its wonders. Closer, closer, you wanted him to get close to you.

“-Heeseung.”

“Good, try again!”

“Heeseung.” you repeated.

“Good girl,” immense satisfaction adorned his lips as he leaned in closer to your ears which made you close your eyes yet only his hand patting your head softly were what you felt before he pulled away, piling up the empty plates on the table.

Your eyebrow raises in confusion “Huh?” why didn’t he?-

“Sir— no, H-heeseung.. Why?” you couldn’t help but stutter at the bizarre outcome.

“Why? You should go back to rest soon, don’t worry I’ll do the dishes this time.”

A visible vein pops up in your neck in utter disbelief before you tugged his sleeves. “I-i..”

“Hm? Is there something wrong?”

Tightening your grip on the hem of his sleeve, you looked up with glassy eyes. “I–.. I don’t wanna sleep yet.”

“Oh, really?” Heeseung brushes his finger against your cheeks. “Alright.”

“Teng! You’re out!”

The fuck? Your eyes twitched at the barrage of chaos before you; the formed lego Thor’s hammer after year's worth of blood, sweat and tears—boards of puzzles with its pieces scattered on the floor, and the man himself pulling out a wooden block out from this piled wooden blocks on top of each other.

T-the fuck we playing Jenga for?! Your eyes widened immense disbelief.

“S-sir—”

“It’s your turn!” faint claps emitting from the friction of his palms as he beamed at you, acting like an almost different man from a few hours ago. Trying your best to keep your disguise up as you pulled out the wooden block carefully, muttering a thousand curses to yourself—this wasn’t your fucking plan.

Sniffing a huge deal of air, you reassured yourself. It’s okay, it’s okay. We still have tomorrow—

“AH! IT FELL! THE LEGO (NAME)!”

Third day. Beaming sun hiding behind the gold veined clouds, painted sea sky with tall high buildings intertwined with its glory peeking from your curtained windows. Yet as serene as it looks, you were pissed. You were consumed with utter impatience. Dried eyes gazing at the ceiling, poking your tongue inside your cheek in attempts to soothe yourself from your short temper tendencies.

That guy should’ve been snuck in between your legs by now, not play silly stupid children games till 4am in the morning. It has never happened this way before. What is he trying to plan, huh? You raised your eyebrow gathering a new wave of determination. Today he’ll succumb to your temptation afterall.

You went to the living room after freshening up, taken aback by the man standing still in the living room—wearing office attire or more something between that.

"You had work?.."

"Oh yes, I do. Got a few clients to attend to." you observed as Heeseung meticulously puts on his tie around his collar, “I’m sorry, I know I promise we’re going out to get your boots but tomorrow okay?”

Fuck what? He’s going to work .. today?! You snapped your head to the open calendar on top of the table, your eyes twitching yet softened in a swift manner when you looked up to him. “Y-you don’t have to apologise, Sr. Heeseung.”

He looks at you with concern. "Are you sure you can stay here?"

"I already appreciate it enough that you trusted me enough to let me stay here. Thank you."

Accompanying him through the door, you observed as he put on his leather shoes and at him; slicked back hair, white shirt with dotted blue tie and the black coat hanging on his arms paired with the black pants. Tall frame, dreamy eyes and faint cherry lips—a totally different image from yesterday, you snickered in the back of your head.

“By the way..”

Pulled away from your deep thought, “H-hm?”

“Uh, sorry for yesterday too. I might’ve gone overboard with those games that you didn’t get a good night's rest.” he pursed his lips in an abashed manner.

Taken aback, you shook your head. “I enjoyed it! It was fun, and nice. I— I’ve never had anyone to play with before so it’s a first time for me..” you looked down, “Thank you for that.”

Gentle caresses of his hand against your cheeks had your eyes widened, “I’m glad to hear that then.” his lips tugged up ever so slightly, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Wait for me to come back home, okay?”

Letting out a deep, long, dejected sigh that consumes the entire living room as you put your hands on your sides, looking down in immense of what the fuck. “Who cares for those useless boots anyways, when I got your feisty watches over here?” smirking as you did so, grabbing each and one of his precious items that you could sell later for good use.

Knock! Knock!

“Huh? Is he already back?” you furrowed your eyebrows at the entrance of the apartment before taking small steps and slowly opening it.

Heeseung grabbed ahold of his coat and threw it in his car as he drove off to the city, striding along the street till he stopped by in front of a luxury high end restaurant. Elite and expensive. People with high social status spilling in and out from this place.

Brushing his slicked back hair as he puts on his usual gentleman persona, the main entrance opened for him.

"Heeseung-ah! God, where the fuck have you been? Why aren't you answering my calls?!"

The voice was enough to make him roll his eyes to the back of his head but he suppressed the need to do so as he wanted to end this as effortless as he can and as trouble-free as it can be.

"WHAT?!" the cup stumbles upon the hard slam of the girl's hand to the table, "Did I hear you right? You want to break up with me?! Gaeul? Me?"

Heeseung sighed as he wiped the edges of his lips with a wet wipe, "Yes you did. Let’s break up."

"No but why?! Our relationship was so good all this time, didn't our last date go well? So why?—"

"We don't click, Ms. Gaeul. That's all. It would be better if we end it now and just try to become good friends instead."

"H-huh?" Gaeul scoffed irritably, "After all the things I've done for you? Okay, fuck. Then give me the Rolex watch, the Gucci fucking handbag, the LV and Nike shoes—"

"Okay sure."

"Fucking what?!" Gaeul couldn't believe it, "Just what had happened to you?! Why are you so adamant in leaving me? Did you have a girl or something? Heeseung!"

A soft yawn escaped from the young man as his gaze travelled all around the patterned designs of the restaurant, how beautiful.

"Lee Heeseung!"

"Oh god, Gaeul. Do you have to embarrass yourself even further? I thought you're better than that." Heeseung couldn't help but be baffled, it's not like he's so die hard for money, even so he only did all these for pure joy. Money, women, games. All of it was a game.

Death silence consumes the two of them as a series of hiss emitted from the blonde haired girl.

"Fuck, it's not like you're the only man I got. You—" Gaeul pointed at him as her jaw gritted, "I had a lot more men lining up for me, you're not the only one."

"Then I'm happy to hear that, Ms. Gaeul."

Gaeul leans back, sniffing through her nose in attempts to cool herself down. "Still, I had a party next week. My father will be over, you're invited—"

"I don't think I can come to the party." Heeseung got up on his feet. "We are only friends right now, Ms. Gaeul-ssi."

"Fuck don't worry, will you?" Gaeul tilted her head, ruffling her blonde hair, "Bring your girl or whatever you can think of, I'll bring my man. How about we see whether we're over or not, Heeseung?"

A game. How sweet. Heeseung loves the thrill of being challenged. So why not?

"Sure, why not?"

An audible groan emitted from the young man when as soon he went back inside his exquisite car, his phone rang vigorously in his pockets. His eyebrows furrowed upon a suspicious number. "Yes, who's this?" A long deep pause, in which suddenly Heeseung's eyes widened along with furrowed eyebrows. “What?!”

“Sr. Heeseung!”

“(Name), what happened?”

“I– i’m so-sorry,” you sniffed uncontrollably, “Th-they were barging and all and I couldn’t help b-but..”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, explain it to me properly so I’ll know what to do.” Heeseung brought you closer to his embrace, patting your head.

“I- I hit them with y-your pan—”

“My pan?” Heeseung’s eyes popped out, jaw dropping.

Your teary eyes keeps spilling out tears, “Y-yeah, and–”

A series of wailing and mouthy ruckus emits from the back of the police station, “Bitch! That woman is a bitch! Don’t trust her!”

“You fucking watch your mouth.” Heeseung spat out.

“Heeseung-ah! What kind of woman had you brought into your apartment? She’s the spawn of a devil!!”

“Yeah right!” says the man, sobbing as he pressed the white towel covered in ice onto his bruised eyes, hissing in pain as he did so.

“Well, if it wasn’t you trying to barge into my apartment then she wouldn’t have to be this nervous and scared, all because of you.” Heeseung raised his eyebrow.

“S-SCARED? N-NERVOUS? T-THE T-T- FUCK? AM I HEARING YOU RIGHT?!” another man with a bulging eye whines from the back seat.

“SHE FUCKING BEAT US TO DEATH!” they all screamed in unison.

. . . rewind

“Hello?” your eyes fell on a bunch of unfamiliar faces standing in front of the door—three guys; two were drunk and another sober, with a girl whose eyes peering at you like there's no tomorrow.

“Fuck I told you I was right!” the girl whined like a child.

You were met with a barrage of nonsenses thrown at you. The girl was whiny and desperate, asking where Heeseung was or who are you and where you came from, what you were doing here and sorta all of that. From the way she acts, you concluded that she was a piece of bitch dying for Heeseung’s attention. Not only that, the men beside her seems to be her friends which reminds you of the saying; bad apples would soon consume the rest of the good apples.

Pathetic, you thought and yet you’re still keeping up your sweet persona.

Till it unfortunately hits your nerves. “Please kindly get lost.”

“I told you right, if it wasn’t— fuck what?” The girl blinks twice, “D-did i hear you right, miss girl?”

“Yeah she told you to get lost.”

“Shut up!” the girl snapped at her cousin. “Did you just really–”

“Yeah I said get lost.” nonchalantly you say, fed up with keeping up your persona in front of useless pieces of shits not even tangled with your mission so who cares if they do know the real you?

“Pfft!” the girl held her sides, bursting into laughter. “Oh god, a petite girl like you having the nerves to tell us to get lost? Look at yourself first! You’re so petite that the wind can carry you!”

Staying silent as you can as you wait for her to finish her nonsense, “Are you done?”

“Yah. Bitch—”

“Fine then, wait for a min.” you shut the door right to their face much to their protests, until a few minutes later you stepped out of the door with the round object in your tight grasp.

“F-fuck—”

“Hm.. Now you got my attention, you son of a bitch.”

Grab!

"Sir," echoes a gut wrenching scream from the man himself as you bend his arm, twisting it till his shoulder spun to an unstable joint. "It would be nice if you tone it down as," you leaned in to whisper to his ear, "It's never wise to act bold in a territory you don't belong to."

"Who are you?!" it came out as a whisper laced in downright dread as before him, "Fuck help me! Oh my god— my arm, my arm!!"

You pulled away much to the man's outburst of pain, spun your heels around and snapping your fingers up in the air, a faint click almost resembling the sound of a flicking violin, your lips tugging up in a menacing smirk. You dodged the punch and kicked them by launching your leg up to the air, snapping the guys arm in a gut-wrenching sound.

The girl's jaw dropped in utter shock and disbelief with her hands cupping her mouth, letting out a gut-wrenching scream which alerted the entire neighbourhood.

end. . .

Crows cawing from afar as they finish off their story, your quivered form suppressing the need to roll your laughter from bursting into the air behind Heeseung.

A sigh left Heeseung’s mouth, “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. She?” he gestured at you and then back at them, “Beat all of you?”

Heeseung looked up at the ceiling seemingly fed up with the entire ordeal, memories flashing back to when he first met you eventually shaking his head.

“Okay then if you won’t believe us! But there’s a CCTV on your door right, let’s check that then and you’ll see we were telling the fucking truth!”

What's the use? You sighed. They won't even find that footage anyways as your minions had settle everything effortlessly. Pouting your lips with your crossed arms as you tilted your head to look at the computer screen blank and empty.

"I think there has been a malfunction—"

"WHAT?! YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!" The ruckus had your ear bleeding into pain, not wanting to be there any longer.

Tugging his coat, “Sir.. Can we just g-go back home?”

“Okay, I'll settle this real quick so they won’t bother you anymore okay?”

It didn't took long, actually. As he finally came back with that same smile on his face after telling you that the girl and her friends will be subjected to stay in the cell for a few days. Feigning a solemn face yet inside you were giggling.

“I- greatly apologise over what happened, though! I'm putting you in so much trouble.” you bow down in which Heeseung shrugs, shaking his head in a small smile.

“Ya, ya. Don’t mind it, sometimes we just can't avoid problems.” he patted your head in a gentle manner.

“Do you know them though..?”

“They’re just my neighbour after staying here for over a year. Hm, it’s just that I rarely talk with them.” you nodded still hanging your head down to make yourself look pitiful in front of him. “Hey, I guess we got the chance then to go outside for boots and new fits?”

Your eyes glints at the chance presenting itself before you, feigning an awkward laughter. “Sr. Heeseung. I couldn’t thank you enough with all these things you’re doing for me.”

“If you appreciate it then let's go, I'm going to buy one for myself too!”

So here you are with Heeseung inside a luxury store much to your surprise. Was he flaunting his money to you? By the looks of it, it was kinda obvious and you kept the growing amusement on your face from surfacing as he strolls over the sides, pausing every now and then to show you a piece of fit and asking you which one you like.

Nevertheless, you feigned a series of Pikachu faces whenever he pulls a dress with its price tag looming over you like a tsunami—when in fact, you're dying to have it and possibly sell it after. Let's just say, you got what you wanted.

You two strode off to take cover under the gazebo in the park as soft droplets of rain fell upon the both of you and a faint clap of thunder echoed in this city and soon the street had been drenched in endless pit-patter.

The shopping bags sat upright on the bench. Faint clap of softened raindrops hit the street, round puddles arising with the accumulated rain, and a green frog hops on the way to the side of the bench. The cool breeze caresses against your skin.

“The rain is so pretty.” you breathe out. Somehow this time, your words were true. You turned to look at Heeseung whose face was rather dull as he gazed out at the street. "W-what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Rain is not really my favourite thing to see." He answered.

You didn't question any further as it seems that he was emitting desolation from such a question and instead you asked something else, "How was work?"

"Uh, quite a wreck inside there not gonna lie." Heeseung lets out a soft tsk, “There’s this girl growling like a mad dog, kinda a karen if you know what that means—” he pauses after your expression contorting into confusion, “A Karen is that overly sensitive person who tries their best to ruin everyone’s day.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ even when you are fully aware of what it means, just making sure you look dumb enough before his eyes when you realise you were observing him for too long; his sublime face with raindrops trailing down his rosy cheek and tan skin, his bangs sticking to his eyelids as he brushes off the remaining raindrops off his drenched black coat.

Stop looking at him, why are you doing this? Snapping your head back to the sublime scenery of the rain hitting the ground, the sound was as if someone was playing piano through the rain and the main difference was the rain was the song.

Heeseung turn his attention back on you in which his heart skipped a beat. Your drenched white shirt, which hugs your hips down with your head hanging low, fingers fiddling the hem of your old pink grandma skirt. You truly look so innocent, he thought.

“You know, just stay with me." He suddenly voice out much to your surprise. "You don’t have to go back home to that kind of people who don't deserve to be called your parents, it just doesn’t seem right.” Heeseung said, “Just let me take care of you, please?

You didn't give an answer, waiting for him to say more before you could give a fitting response to him. Waiting to see how smitten he is for you. "W-what do you mean, s-sir?"

“It just.. feels lonely nowadays, and I don’t mind having another person to stay with. You know what I mean?”

You shook your head slightly yet your heart skipped a beat in utter excitement over your plan succeeding.

“I'll be your friend, we'll take care of each other and then—"

H-huh?! You rolled your eyes at the back of your head in your imagination. Pissed off at the fact that this man still is holding himself back. Sniffing a huge deep breathe in, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your face. "I would love to!"

Yea right.

A puppy hops in front of you two, its tail wagging and tongue pouring out as it spun multiple times. The sight of the happy puppy brought a genuine smile on your face when just then an old couple came in through.

“Maeumi! Oh, sweetheart. I thought i’d lose you.” the old lady slowly bend her knees, the puppy immediately went to her arms. An old man stood behind her and his gaze fall on you along with Heeseung.

“May we sit here?..” husky and old voice had rubbed your heart in a gentle almost like hug.

You and Heeseung nodded in unison, with a small smile urging them to sit just far right between you. Just now you and him had a fair distance from together but now you were closer to him.

Watching the old couple go about their day somehow gave you this gentle touch of breeze, especially the white puppy wagging its tail beside the old lady’s leg.

‘“Puppies..”

Heeseung notices your heart eyes towards the puppy, tilting his head at you. “It’s adorable.”

“H-hm?!”

“I said it’s adorable, the puppy.” yet his eyes never left you. Is he trying to pull the shit pull and push game?

“I-it is..” you let out an awkward laugh.

“You wanna get puppies together someday? If you want, we could have another tenant together with us in the apartment.”

You unexpectedly let out a small burst of laughter much to your surprise, immediately covering your mouth with your hand with your eyes widening.

“I mean, sure? I- n-never had a puppy before.” your gaze fell on the puppy again, “They’re just so fluffy, and huggable.”

“I can see why.”

Turning your eyes back on him, “Sr. Heeseung, have you had a puppy before?”

Heeseung took a brief pause, deep in thought before answering. “I did as a child, it was cute, noisy and often it won’t leave me alone.”

The old couple’s small gesture towards each other; the grandpa tucking his wife’s hair behind her ear, and the abashed reaction of her—the sun beaming on the edges of their face, pouring soft raindrops behind them and the greeny leaves from the bushes—everything, the scenery was truly breathtaking it had your breath caught off on the back of your throat and one small question beats inside your heart—was this love?

“Are you two, perhaps, lovers?” the grandma suddenly asked such a question resulting in your eyes widening, yet you were unsure of what was Heeseung's reaction as well.

“U-Uh.. no!” you two answered in unison, looking at each other in giggles.

Rubbing his neck as an abashed smile surfaces on his lips, “We-we’re just a friend.”

“I see, perhaps you could ignore my useless opinions but you two could make a great couple.” the grandma spoke as her hand patted the puppy’s head, its tail wagging vigorously.

The question seems to put the two of you back to reality, as this thought echos in the back of your heads—A great couple? What a joke.

A few days have passed since you stayed here and yet nothing ever happens except for some flattering lines or suggestive touches coming from the man himself. To be fair, you’d expected him to give in to you in just two or four days at minimum. You couldn’t let this stretched out this far, though.

You had your minions watched over him for the past couple days and as expected this guy wasn't as innocent as you expected which made you chuckle mischievously.

"Fuck, I knew you weren't that innocent. Men are all the same." A somewhat rather solemn flashes through your eyes but you squint your eyes in return.

You heard Heeseung on the phone, his words trailing to your ears one by one and each of them confirming your suspicion for him. A scoff emits from you, somewhat disappointed but something you got rid of once you took notice of it as if this was even necessary? A lingering hope that is, foolish you. At least the truth unravels itself before you, at least it did. It’s time to get on with the plan, after all—it’s the very reason why you’re even here in the first place.

You just needed this guy to fall for you and make him spend all his money on you, that's all. Money. You need it for the brothel to keep going on. For the girls you promised to protect. You couldn't care any less whether or not he's innocent as an angel or as mischievous as a snake.

Of course, truly he looks dashing and charming for you yet he reminds you of someone else—nevertheless, you could compare him of a perfect man in disguise of an old, reeking money of a playboy, with plenty of girls queuing up in a stretched out line ready to begged on their knees just for a glimpse of his eyes on them.

The sun rose high up in the air when you followed behind Heeseung, to see which kind of girl was he meeting with so you had an idea of what to do with your plan.

"Huh? So he got another chick? Tsk, no wonder." You thought as you followed a few metres away from him. The sight of him having a sweet interaction with the tailor.

You sat on one of the tables in your disguised form; a brown hat, dark sunglasses on the tip of your nose, black coat hugging the sides of your knees as you sit upright, taking a long sip from your freshly made juice as you poured your ear into their conversation.

“You know we can do it together in the changing room—”

Your lungs burst into the juices flowing through your esopaghus, shooting it back up to the tip of your tongue much to your amusement over the bold words chosen–shaking your head in a low audible laughter as you wipe the spilled contents on your coat while muttering a thousand worth of disappointment.

“Well that can wait, love. However, I had a formal party to attend by the end of this week. Would you give me the honour to be the lady standing beside me?”

Huh, party? You raised your eyebrow at those words. Haa.. an idea beams up in your mind upon processing the newly received information—a smirk grew on your face, why not you instead? You had to he the one he’ll take to the event instead and you'll make sure of it.

Well dear, did it take a long time before the pair had finally finished their chit-chat and you hurried back faster to the apartment before Heeseung could. You almost stumble upon the stairs much to your attempt on getting to the front door, tapping the codes all over again and immediately snucking yourself inside.

"The fuck is wrong with them??" Heeseung's eyes widened in such an immense disbelief, scoffing every now here and then with the phone on his hands, unaware of your suppressed cackle as you sat watching the TV.

"...pfft." an audible laughter left your mouth which had Heeseung's attention on yours. You hastily let out another laughter, pointing your finger at the running TV show which had a pair of ducks hopping along the street.

Heeseung having the thought of whether you're that innocent or just dense in the slightest bit.

Of course, you literally hunt down every single chick on his list by ordering your minions from the brothel to handle them.

Oblivious he was to the fact that you went to the shop the other day wearing an attire tremendously different to when you were in Heeseung’s presence; a tight fitting socks, heels turning downwards to the sense it can digs its claws deep inside pervert’s throat, your tight fitting corset hugging your white dress flowing downwards your hips. Nonchalantly you walked through each section of dress, your finger trailing onto all of them as if you didn't know what to pick.

As expected, the tailor lady had her face constantly powdered with the makeup palette on her hand as she stood still in the reception counter, perfectly unaware of her surroundings. Ah, what a perfect day to put out a useless obstacle out of your way.

Your knuckles come into contact on the counter forming a few faint knocks, in which her attention falls on you with eyebrows raised.

“Y'know, take these few bucks and leave." you pushed the check paper to her hands much to her confusion.

"Huh? What are you—"

"Aw, sweetheart. Don't be so dense that you aren't aware that the man you often had inside your pretty little changing room belongs to someone else."

Her eyes widened in fractions, "What? Are you saying Heeseung?—" a fit of scoff escaped her thick red lips, "Miss, who do you think you are, huh? Going around to make up a ridiculous lie? Look at this."

She raises her hand up to your eye level showing you her index finger wrapped in a gleaming diamond ring along with her expression making out a mockery at you.

"Hm, guess I'll have to put you in your place then." You were about to burst into a fit of laughter when her eyeballs were about to pop out upon seeing the picture you had in your phone's lock screen; Heeseung in his deep slumber on his bed. "If I was you, I wouldn't stay with someone like him any longer."

"Then?!" Her voice heightened in rage, "How about you? Obviously he's cheating on you as well!"

"Nuh uh, we'll see about that." you spun around your heel as you lowered down your glasses, taking one last look at her over your shoulder—giving her a smug look.

Let’s just say the woman had her rage thrown at Heeseung; wailing like a hyena and screaming at him through the phone much to his displeasure and the cost of an ear injury. Telling him how horrible he was for making out a fool of her and on and on—yet Heeseung could only roll his eyes, not at all interested at the woman's rage as afterall she was only another toy for him.

Yet, it had his mind going through the vast space as his face were consumed with utter confusion, “Which one of them?..” he couldn’t remember which girl though, and couldn’t be bothered really. He had too many girls wrapped round her finger that he somehow forgot who is who, only paying attention to those who had more benefits to him.

"(Name)."

"Yes?"

"Is it okay if I can ask for your help?" Heeseung's doe eyes pleaded with the utmost affection.

Ah finally, the sweet words you were dying to hear. You couldn't contain your grin as you watered the flowers with your back before him, spinning your heels to met his pleading eyes.

"Of course! Tell me, I would be happy to help!"

There he broke the news of him going to the grand formal party and you of course, pretended with putting your best interest regard to his problems.

Heeseung swore he's about to yawn over the thousand times he said this among the plenty of girls he went to.

"It's okay, you can bring me to the party!" you sighed in complete bliss. “But– i don’t really know much of the basic things..” you pursed your lips in an abashed manner, or actually, you lied.

Heeseung exhaled a deep thought before assuring you with a warm rub against your clasped hands, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

It apparently baffles you that Heeseung went all the way in teaching you the basic etiquettes, unaware that you were actually well knowledgeable in all these stuffs—just fooling the shit out of him by messing it up intentionally—dropping the spoon on the ground, using the fork in a peasant mode, barbaric munching on the 5 star food much to his cringe expression and displeasure and yet he still tried to be as polite as possible.

You had a great time messing up with him, to be honest.

“Still, still.” his arms around your waist as he guided you through the dancing session. Teaching you the basics of waltz and all.

“You’re doing good.” yea sike. You purposely tugged at his sleeve so he can fall on you and your lips brushed against him in a millisecond, feigning utter surprise as you cupped your lips.

“I-I’m sorry!”

A deep chuckle emits from him, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Let's we try again?” his hand extended before you as he helped you on your feet. Your faces so dangerously close to his. You couldn't wait for the day of the party.

To have him beg for your touches, or possibly fall even more for you as you help him through his meetings. What and whatnots, it baffles you that the boy was keeping it slow and steady, a stark contrast from what you heard and saw before you that day. Was his plan to keep you beside him for a fairly long time? Who knows but it does seem to look like it. At first you had this rush flowing through your veins, intending to end all of it at once but now, your plan somehow change–who cares if he wants it slow? You could take all the time in the world as long as he spend his money on you.

Your plan was going entirely well as here you are trying a new fit one after another as Heeseung sat on the couch, eyes fixated on you while you choose which dress suits you the best.

“Which one?” you asked him with a big grin on your lips.

“Hm.. it looks good, try another one though.”

“This one might look good on her, sir.” the tailor pulls out another dress.

Well boy, did it goes on for an eternity before Heeseung and you finally agreed on the dress you wore right now.

“You’re so beautiful.” Heeseung breathe out in downright amazement, eyes refusing to falter from you. “Almost as if.. You were like a different person.”

Heeseung’s eyebrow furrowed, eyes beaming yet laced with confusion as he observed all of you; your rosy cheeks and your shy eyes fluttering away from his intense ones—your finger fiddling the hems of your dresses per your usual habit, licking your lips every now and often. He had to admit you were truly breathtaking as of this very moment.

“Have you decided sir?”

“-O-oh, yes of course.” Heeseung's eyes refuse to leave yours even when the staff talks to him.

He later comes back and approaches with you stars sparkling in his dreamy orbs, reaching his hand out for you to take. "Are you ready?"

Slipping your fingers into his hands, of course you're ready than ever—for him to give in to you tonight, "I'm ready!"

Moonlight embracing the sky, hiding behind the grey veined clouds, illuminating its proof of living onto this tenants of the world.

“Still remember what I taught you? Spoon, fork, the handkerchief—” you nodded with every word coming out from his mouth, going through all of them like a military drill. “You sure you’re okay?” Heeseung squeezed your trembling hands, worried eyes.

Nodding in an apparent smile, “Hm! I can do this.”

“You don’t need to talk much, though. Just stand still, with me. I’ll do the rest of the job. Easy, right?” He rubs your hand.

You look out from the window where the grand party was centred at. The scent of elite class and old money all gathered in this high end hotel.

Nothing new, apparently for you—it was another routine, a specific situation you were trained in. These little etiquettes and manners, you’ve mastered them so well. After this night, you’ll take the first move. You won’t let this day pass without achieving the grandeur of your plan—make him lust for you and kneel before you.

With your arms laced around his, the insides of the hotel unravel it’s magnificent scene as you and him went inside. Men and women in expensive attire, those with social status alike—the elite ones—gathered in this event. Low volume of waltz, an enormous choir and a whole orchestra playing in the background. Clink clanks of champagne glasses, red wine pouring onto the fountain of glasses, waitresses and waiters striding all over the space to deliver and attend to each guest. The bright glowing chandelier, emitting its orange hues—a sublime mood of fantasia.

Yet it brought your heart a fit of pang. All too familiar it was, isnt?

"Oh, so this is your new girl?" A blonde haired girl presents herself before you when you turn around—her fit consisting of a dark blue dress, hugging her fairly thin waist, the collars drooped down to show her bare collarbones yet the big fat diamond necklace round her neck adorned her overalls. Her fingers twirling the glass of half filled champagne, thick red lips adorning her face.

“Gaeul.” Heeseung confirms her presence, his hand wrapping your waist. Ah so Gaeul was her name?

"Wow, she looks so damn off, like ugh I get the villager type." Another girl appeared alongside Gaeul. Her aura exudes immense elegance as her flowy dark brown hair hugs down to her arms.

"I know right?"

"Just stop it. Gaeul, Yujin." Heeseung spat out, but then the father of the girl came and he excused himself to have a talk with the father. “She’s just–”

An old man appeared at sight with his hands on his back, an intimidating aura emitting from him as he observed each and one of you. “Dad. Look, can you believe that Heeseung will replace me with this girl? Can you talk him back to his senses, please?”

Gaeul’s father observes you meticulously before nodding and telling Heeseung to follow him.

There's an obvious hesitance in Heeseung's eyes yet whispers into your ears, “I’ll be back, okay? Just ignore them.” before disappearing into the spilling crowd, they must’ve gone inside the building you thought.

"So? How does it feel to have your feet on an elite party? Happy?" You turn to look at Gaeul's mockery eyes at you and Yujin's chuckling behind her.

Honestly, years of staying in the brothel had given you immunity to such people as you were subjected to horrors people couldn't even fathom—as all sorts of men and women had done unspeakable things either on you or on someone—they were cunning, rude, loud, physically abusive, they drained you out of your mind like a bloodsucker and all sorts of thing to the point you could say that these two are what you would call—

"Pathetic." You breathed out and it's safe to say that they heard you as expected from their exaggerated reaction.

"W-what?" Gaeul scoffed as she blinked in an abnormal pace, "What did you just say?"

"Pathetic, bitch, pathetic." You repeated before her, amused you were as her jaw dropped even further.

"Fuck? Watch your mouth, please! Who do you think you are?!" She tugged down your dress resulting in a huge slit almost revealing your thighs causing you to let out a yelp. "Now it suits you better, slutty bitch."

"Everyone!" Yujin clapped her hands up in the air—a series of gasps and murmurs emitted from the spectators themselves. The spotlight of the party was now on you. Fuck, you thought.

"You know..—" you were interrupted by a familiar silhouette grabs your attention from your side eye, your heart dropped upon laying your eyes on the particular person approaching.

“Huh, what's with the commotion, ladies? Chill abit, will you?” Familiar voice that sent chills down your spine, his slicked back hair, exquisite suit, that same smile you adore and grown to despise, his sparkling eyes under the lights. His whole being holding a pure weight of your past.

“Jay!” Yujin called out with a big wide smile on her face, a stark contrast from her intimidating aura a few minutes ago. You spun around without much hesitation wanting to leave as soon as you can before Gaeul tugs your arm.

"Where the fuck you think you're going? We're not done yet!"

"(Name)!" Heeseung appeared, surprise etched all over his face as he sees the entire commotion. "Fuck, let her go! Why are you so desperate like this!"

"Ugh!" Gaeul stumbled a few steps backwards as Heeseung pry off her hands from yours.

"(Name)? (Name)?" Snapped out from your oblivion of despair, you looked into Heeseung's eyes with your teary ones. "A-are?— What's wrong?"

Your eyes begin to burn in a sea of tears, gathering your entire strength to pull it in. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. It’s okay. It's okay you tell yourself however your trembling lips show otherwise, your clenched fist shivering not in freezing weather but the burning heat in your heart strings.

“Are you okay? Is it too cold for you? You know we can go back home if you want to, right?” Heeseung rubs his hands on your bare arms to provide a sense of warmth.

“N-no, i’m fine, i’m f-fine..” choking on your tears you did, don’t cry. No fuck, you can’t. “I w-want to go home. I really want to go home—”

“Wait?" as if a strong force pulled you back, “Am I seeing this right?” his familiar voice had you frozen much to Heeseung’s surprise. ”Is that you, (Name)?"

Yeah, it's me. You want to spin around and shout this at his face. The man who you gave your whole trust and love. The man who you wish for his loving touches, his familiar voice and affectionate words. The man who sold you off to the brothel. Your eyes began to tear up, darting relentlessly to prevent it from falling, you trembled under Heeseung’s arms.

The man who you’d thought to be the prince in your once fairy tale book. The man who sold you off to the brothel—Park Jay.

You and Heeseung turned to face them, and just like you—his nonchalant expression mirrored yours but brewed in an immense surprise. His mouth open, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned you up and down. "(Name)? I-Is that you?"

"Heh? You know her?!" others asked in utter surprise.

"I—I d-don't know what you're talking about?" You feigned a composed smile, yet deep inside you are crumbling into tiny pieces of shards with every passing minute of your eyes on him.

"Wait, you're not (Name)? That's weird. You really do look like her. You two had the same name though, except.." Jay chuckled, shaking his head.

"Why? Is there something about her?" Yujin asked with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

A low cackle emits from him, "No idea. Just a random girl I met in a brothel. A prostitute, that is."

"What the fuck, you went into a brothel??"

"C'mon babe, it's almost 10 years ago. You can't be jealous." His amused face irks you, ripping your heartstrings apart as you observe him leaning down pressing a soft kiss against the young lady’s lips.

A random girl. A prostitute. You bit your lip in attempts to suppress your sobs. Crumbling you were in this hellhole of a reeking betrayal, a betrayal made up of lies.

“Then where are you from then? It’s just amusing, really—that I could meet two separate people with the same identical face. So I was wondering, who are you then?” his eyebrows raised in a comical way, waiting for your response.

Answer something. Something.

A firm squeeze on your bare arms had you looking up to the person in question, his eyes looking down to you in a comforting one, almost like home.

"I'd prefer you not compare her to such a vulgar term, Jay. Watch the way you speak to my future wife."

“Future wife?!”

🐾AUTHOR'S NOTE — thank you for reading my story and have a nice day :))

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romione-trope-fest · 1 month

Text

Ocean Eyes

Fic Title: Ocean Eyes

Author Name: flaming-brown-witch

Selected Trope: OOTP Missing Moment, Cockblocker Harry

Brief Summary: Hermione demands that Ron explain the meaning behind his Christmas gift.

Word Count: 976

Rating: T for mild language and subtle UST

Any Trigger Warnings: None

Note: Excerpts from OOTP are bolded.

***

"I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes"

- Ocean Eyes, Billie Eilish

Happy Christmas. You stink. Ron.

As Hermione sat at the edge of her borrowed bed at Grimmauld Place, she stared many stares at Ron's untidy scrawl. Principally confused stares. But also annoyed stares and hopeful stares and stares that were accompanied by a curious fluttering in her chest.

She switched her stare to the small perfume bottle in her other hand. After several beats, she finally opened the bottle and tentatively lifted it to her nose. Goodness, it smelled heavenly. Like chocolate and butterbeer. Like Ron.

She grew hot. Surely Ron understood the message that he was sending Hermione: I want you to smell like things that I like. Surely Ron knew what such a message meant. Surely he was not that obtuse.

Hermione sighed. Of course, he was that obtuse. Ever since Hermione suspected Ron's feelings for her, she had given him every sign under the sun to get him to act. But each attempt was more futile than the last. Her last breadcrumb was the kiss on the cheek before his first Quidditch match. When that yielded nothing, Hermione gave up. It seemed improbable that after nearly two months of inertia, Ron would suddenly express his feelings in such a cryptically infuriating manner.

Hermione paused. What was she thinking? It was, in fact, very much like Ron to express his feelings in such a cryptically infuriating manner. After all, Hermione had long been his favourite target for taking the mickey. Making her think he was giving her a joke gift in an attempt to throw her off his scent (no pun intended) seemed exactly like the type of rubbish Ron would put her through.

Hermione released a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl. She tossed the note and bottle aside and fell backwards onto her bed. She lay there for a while and continued to go through all possible interpretations of the gift, including one where she convinced herself that Ron didn't fancy her and was just having a cruel laugh at her expense. Eventually, she decided to end her torture and muster the courage to confront Ron about it.

"That perfume is really unusual, Ron,” she told him moments later as she crossed him and Harry on the stairs.

"No problem," he responded without expression. Then he nodded towards the present under her arm and asked, “Who’s that for anyway?”

Hermione plastered a bright smile on her face and told him that it was for Kreacher. If Ron was going to pretend like gifting perfume to a female friend was something normal, then so was she.

That resolution barely lasted until lunch.

"What?" Ron asked when he noticed Hermione's glare. They were in the dining room, setting the table, while Molly finished up the last of her cooking in the basement.

"What did you mean by giving me perfume for Christmas?" The words tumbled out of Hermione's mouth with the force of a landslide.

Ron paused for a moment before setting down the items in his hand. Hermione swore that the corner of his lip twitched. "Oh, Hermione," Ron said sympathetically, his eyebrows knitting together in a show of concern. "Was the note not clear enough?"

He grimaced and looked apologetic as he made a small wave in front of his nose.

Hermione crossed her arms. "I'm being serious, Ron."

"I'm being serious, too, Hermione," he replied, shrugging "sheepishly," his "apologetic grimace" deepening.

Hermione threw her cutlery on the table and turned to leave, furious with herself for playing into his hands. Then her heart caught in her throat when Ron grabbed her wrist. They remained frozen in that position for a few seconds before Hermione turned back to him slowly.

Ron broke contact when she was facing him, leaving a ring of cold air on her skin. His face, aimed at the floor, was a beacon of red. "I gave you the perfume because…"

Ron suddenly looked up, and all signs of mischief had disappeared. His face was more serious than the snake attack that nearly killed his father. "Because," he said, rolling his shoulders back decisively, defiantly, and standing straighter, "I wanted you to know that I have an emotional range that's more than a teaspoon."

There was no mistaking the twitch in the corner of his mouth then. "A tablespoon perhaps," he added before the mischief went away just as quickly as it had returned.

Hermione drowned in Ron's eyes as she absorbed his words. He gave her exactly what she wanted: indisputable evidence that the perfume was given in earnest. And while his words weren't exactly an indisputable confession of love, they sounded pretty damn close to one. And yet, she was at a loss for how to proceed. Ron's eyes continued to bore into hers, anxious and expectant, making her feel as though she was hurtling down a deep, blue abyss…

"Oi, Ron," said a voice from the entryway of the dining room, making the pair—but Hermione especially—jump. It was Harry, clearly unaware of having interrupted anything out of the ordinary. "Your mum's looking for you, mate."

Ron glanced at Hermione once more before following Harry down to the kitchen.

"You feeling okay?" Hermione heard Harry ask Ron. "You look flushed."

"Oh, yeah," Ron replied, his voice trailing away as they descended the basement stairs. "I'm just boiling in this jumper…"

Hermione let out a shuddering breath and started fixing her last place setting, desperate for something to do with her hands. She felt discombobulated and out of control as if she were still falling into Ron's ocean eyes. The only thing she was certain of was that Ron's emotional range was far greater than a tablespoon, beyond what she could have ever imagined or prepared for. Perhaps, she thought wildly, his inaction up until that point had been the right move all along…

#submission #romione #romionetropefest #ootp missing moments #cockblocker harry

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epilogue-and-prologue · 10 months

Text

Happiness - Part 2

Fandom: LOTR

Ship: Eomer x F!Reader

Trope: Arranged marriage

Note: Reader is Elfhelm's daughter and I invented a lot for what I didn't know so probably A LOT of mistakes.

Fun facts: I only wrote this extended fic for this one sex scene during their wedding night. This gif is my favourite thing to look at right now. It's late and I'm tired so.

Word counts: 4 090

Warnings: Dealing with grief, loved one's deaths, depression, SMUT at some point, poverty, war's aftermath, diplomatic relations, pregnancy, blood, miscarriage

Tags: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstaredits @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

During the long weeks leading to the wedding, your days were either spent with your mother or Gera, taking over in your mother’s absence.

Indeed, thanks to your father’s insistence, she had been appointed as the wedding organizer. Or something akin to it. She was fussing and busying herself like she had never before, not even for Moira’s wedding. Your mother was a force of nature, but she could be a lot and having Gera was a good contrast to your mother’s buzzing energy.

First, the chiefmaid had kept you company or helped you find your way around the place. Quickly, she became a big part of your days. You visited orphanages with her and brought food to those in need in Sofia’s company. Over these shared times, she became a godmother of sorts - and her daughter a friend - always present when you needed them, and you always there when they needed you.

“Milady, I do believe it is most improper for you to work with the cooks in the kitchen.”

It had taken you almost three whole days of imploring her before you had managed to make Gera yield.

Gera did not believe in such a fantasy as fun. It was working or resting, no in-between. With that statement in mind, she had still followed you to the kitchen while you were asking questions to the bewildered pastry chefs meeting the future queen in such an unofficial manner.

When she asked for what purpose you wanted to cook, the word “fun” came out of your mouth. “To forget” would have been a more accurate description. Eomer’s attitude towards you had become erratic and even avoidant. You could not know why as he would not give you straight answers, always mentionning something he needed to take care of. The gestures of affection he had towards you were limited to him occasionally kissing your forehead and offering you his arm while walking. You had not had a good walk in days, the weather going grim with your mood.

The plates you were cooking always ended up given to people in need.

After that first expedition, it had become a habit of yours to go down to the kitchen to help, a few hours here and there when you could.

But, for every effort you made, Eomer seemed to have forgotten about you. Your actions were out of boredom, but if it could benefit the poorer all the better. He was always busying himself with new economic plans or diplomatic correspondence. He would not tell you about any of those things either and you figured it would take his mind off of things to talk about more mundane things. Like cooking. Suffice to say, it did not work.

So, when he stepped into the kitchen one day, leaving Gera to usher the poor cooks away, you were surprised, to say the least.

“Milady, you do know it is most improper for a future queen to wander around without an escort.

It had to be a trick of the mind though, Eomer did not feel that way and he had made that clear, spending all of his time away from you. Telling you about her. Amongst the fleeting moments of affection you had shared, he had talked to you about Enora. About the woman she was. It felt as a much needed talk for him. For you, it left you questioning everything. Even his commitment to you. Especially his commitment. It was clear that he wanted to keep you out. What for, that was a question you did not have the answer to, as many others when it came to him.

I had Gera until you arrived, my lord.”

He called your name in a soft commanding tone. You could feel the embrace you were missing in his words.

“I am sorry, that you find no suitable distractions in the castle. Nevertheless, you can not come in here. It is not your place. Nor mine as it turns out.”

You sighed. This day was bound to happen. It was improper, and that was that. People would talk. Even he had to uphold his status. He had to, even if he did not want to. Just like you soon enough.

“I know. I am aware of that. I just… Needed space. From the wedding’s preparation, from my mother - I love her but she’s hovering a lot these days, maybe… maybe even from myself. I cannot hear myself think these days.”

You could have sworn his cheeks took a hint of pink as you looked at him from under your lashes. Unbeknown to you, he had grown quite fond of hearing what you were doing and who you were doing it for, your good deeds to his people never going unheard. The cakes going to orphaned children in need, bread to the beggars in the streets, when you were not willingly spending time with the servants, giving a hand where you could. He admired your dedication and kindness a little more every day, despite himself, and his lost lover’s shadow.

-Yet, you do not share that with me. We have not talked much or been in the same room for longer than a few moments since the engagement has been announced. Were you trying to avoid me?”

“I know. I feel the same way.

Over the weeks, your presence had been missing. The little things he would have loved to be doing with you. Your hand on his arm at the engagement party imprinted in his mind. He missed you. All of you. Eomer had thought himself more of a practical person, reasonable, and smart. In this case, he had thrown everything out of the window. Where his first fiancée enhanced his duties, you made up new ones. You were so different, her and you. You could not compare to her and she could not compare to you. She was gone and you were alive. So alive, he yearned for you in a way he had forgotten. You made him feel again.

His head bowed, his eyes cast down. Words were escaping him. He had thought long and hard about this relationship.

“Yes. I was trying to avoid you.”

Your anger was only growing within you. You were frustrated by his actions but could not blame him for them. When it came to Eomer, you had become blind. As soon as you had recognized it for what it was, it felt easier to smile when thinking of him even if he was not thinking of you. No matter what he would do, you knew you would forgive, for you would love him. From that first day until the last.

His voice was lower now, as one of a child being chastised.

“I was afraid.”

His steps brought him next to you, only a meter or two from where you were. Just as he lowered his voice, you softened yours.

“How could you be afraid? I am just a woman.”

His hand took yours and you released a sigh you did not know you were holding. In the back of your mind, you willed your memory to keep those moments tucked away safely. You were sure they would not happen again.

“A woman in grief. A woman I chose. A woman I can not seem to care for as she needs.”

He closed in on you, a mere breath away now, his palm a gentle reminder of his presence on the side of your face, your eyes closed for your own sake. You could not drown in him. You would not. Not when it meant heartbreak.

“Sometimes, I try not to seek you out.”

You could not look at him, but from under your lids, you could feel his breath fanning over your cheek, his head bowed to you in silent prayer. The question burned your lips.

“Why not?”

His hands were now cradling your face, your eyes forced to look at him. His brows furrowed, lips parted in quiet stillness, the way he looked at you, mercy and hurt in the eye, made your heart clench in despair.

“I am guilty of selfishness. When I am with you, I forget. I forget what she looked like and who she was. When I am with you, the ghost of her disappears and I don’t know if…”

His lips parted, as if to say something again, were an invitation you could not refuse. Pushing a little you grabbed him by his collar and kissed him with everything you had. His hands found your waist, making you pull away brutally.

-What for?

“I am sorry, my lord, I…

-The… Just now. And… I did not wish to make you forget. You loved her. Why would I wish to erase her from your memories? She’s a part of you. But, I am selfish too, and…”

You took a deep breath. The feelings you had wanted to snuff out were too strong now. They had to be faced and felt.

-I promise.”

“If you are feeling the way you tell me you are, then I need to know you will be there fully when you’re with me. I… Eomer, I cannot compete with a ghost.

There had been no hesitation in his voice.

He grabbed your face in his hands, and kissed you again, slowly, with eternity in his mind.

The day of the wedding was the worst. You could not see each other all day, it had you both on edge. You were nervous beyond what you could handle, your mother feeding you sweets and Gera swiftly pushing the maids out of your room. You were sure you would suffocate.

Every day it was something new. One day it was a brush of his lips below your ear. The other, his fingers linking with yours discreetly. Another one, he pulled you into an alcove, kissing you senseless, breathless, leaving marks on the exposed skin of your neck.

Once you walked down the aisle, your father’s arm securing and anchoring you, your nerves disappeared. Your father’s teary eyes as he handed you over, almost made you cry, but Eomer’s fond looks shook you to your core. Only then did you notice that the sword he had at his side kept his hand from shaking. A genuine smile on your lips, you had covered his hands with your own, wishing to settle him. The emotion in the man had been threatening to overwhelm him. He had hold onto you for comfort as you wished he would.

The ceremony and the festivities had gone by so fast, it had felt like the blink of an eye. Your parents were dancing and seemed happier than you had seen them in a very long time. They were smiling and laughing, bickering so much, you felt happy for them too. Eomer’s hand surprised you, sneaking under the table and linking his fingers with yours. He leaned down and kissed your cheek, before kissing your lips, your hand cradling his face the cold metal of your wedding band only making it harder to stop. You were his. To love and to hold, forever. How could he have been so lucky, he would never know. But he was willing and wanted to make you understand that. Your doubts and need for reassurance, although not voiced, were clear to him, in the soft moments you shared, a hint of anxiety always taking you over. He never wanted you to doubt his love and attachment for you.

Quickly enough, the night came to an end and the moment to go back to your chambers arrived. The thought of him sharing a bed with you brought a new kind of warmth to your body. The past few days your imagination had been running wild. Not that you would own up to it in front of him. Ever.

Upon entering the room, the door closing behind you, you stepped back until you were met with the wooden surface. It was your salvation when Eomer showed himself, barefoot and naked from the waist up. You wondered if your legs were not going to give out.

In the semi-darkness, silence overcoming everything, he feared you might have swallowed your tongue. In truth, you thought you had, your breathing becoming laboured and uneven.

He called your name, as you were staring, eyes blown while looking at his chest and the expanse of his shoulders, the grave notes in his voice only eliciting more heat to bloom in your abdomen. You bit your lips, not hearing him until he grabbed your shoulders.

“Hm?”

He chuckled, his knuckles caressing the side of your jaw, goosebumps left in his path. Your hands were clasped behind your back, not knowing what to do nor how to do it. Unease took hold of you where there had been only anticipation before. Eomer noticed. He stepped back, looking at you with hunger. He swallowed discreetly. You looked magnificent. His own chest was raising and falling rapidly, the adrenaline in his veins thining his patience to a thread. It made you feel desired and loved more than you could fathom.

“My love, what is the matter?”

“I-… I’ve never been with…a man before…”

You sighed, the endearment on his lips only making it harder to speak.

Fearing you might take offence if he said he knew - even though he did know -, Eomer kissed your temple trying to soothe you. His smile mirrored your own, as his hand slid behind your back, bringing you closer to him. His eyes kept looking into your own.

“I will show you if you wish.”

His lips a mere whisper away from your own, you only nodded. The span of his hands covered your hips as he kissed you. You could feel the laces of your dress coming undone thanks to his handy work, tender kisses caressing the length of your throat, and Eomer holding you against him in a gentle grip. Once the pool of cloth at your feet, your light under-dress was the only barrier between him and you. His kisses were growing heavier with every passing minute, the gentle hold he had turning into him trying to melt his body with yours. Without a word he hoisted you up in his arms, carrying you towards the bed. As he laid you down, your eyes went to the shadows of the fire on the wall before coming back to Eomer, his hair undone, tickling your bare shoulder in the dark. The space above his collarbone, the bridge of his nose, his fingers against your throat, everything illuminated by the feverish light.

Before he looked, his lips against your own he quietly asked “Is this alright…wife?”

Before you could dwell on it, he claimed your mouth for his own, his chest to yours. Your fingers found themselves in his hair, earning a grunt from him, making your core clench and your hand stop. He smirked at that as if he knew what had happened. His palm pulled up your last garment until the birth of your hips, almost revealing yourself to him.

A “Yes” escaped your tongue before you could keep it against the roof of your mouth. After all why would you?

The sweet nothing in his mouth made you whimper out of nowhere.

He helped you out of your dress, leaving the soft caress of his palms up and down your chest, the planes of his hands down your stomach and your back, open-mouthed kisses on your breasts leaving you arching into him, struggling to breathe and how he could be everywhere all at once you would never know, but you would not have stopped it for the world. His mouth trailed down your stomach, always looking at you, always making sure you were alright, just the right amount of overwhelming from him. When he reached the apex of your thighs, you noticed his bare ass in the flickering light of the fire. You swore under your breath. It only made him laugh against you.

“See something you like, princess?”

An idea came to you.

-Hmm?”

“Queen.

You propped yourself onto your elbows, looking him dead in the eye.

-Indeed… then I should treat you as such, should I not?”

“I am not a princess.

His mischievous eyes were new to you. You did not mind them one bit.

You moaned loudly when his tongue flattened against your clitoris. His eyes narrowed and he kept on going, a thirsty man finding a source to drink from. Your body arched of its own accord, full cries escaping you. Something deep in your belly was threatening to snap when he stopped. Concern was etched on his face, his lips gleaming in the dim light as he reached for your face. You shivered at the sight.

“I am alright, husband.”

You nestled your face in his palm, kissing the calloused fingers one by one.

“What about you?”

His body settled next to yours, and you could feel him against your thigh as you turned. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of him inside you.

“I am content.”

He pushed a hair out of your face, feeling the heat of your breath against his nose. What a sight you were. Pupils blown, lips swollen by his ministrations, your skin reacting to the harsh touch of his beard, a path down your body he started following with his fingers down and down again between your thighs. As he met your core, you held onto his shoulder, whimpering again, biting your lip in a silent plea for pleasure. Despite it all, you managed to utter a question.

“Only content?”

His head in the crook of your neck, you felt him stop, now looking straight at you with an adoration you were sure you could not grow tired of. You felt his fingers as he entered you. One, then the other. The soft burn of the stretch kept you from saying anything, your nails digging into his back, his hair now hovering above you, kisses raining on you. He did not answer you, only moving his fingers back and forth until you could not feel the burn of them anymore. He had you rocking your hips onto his hand, filthy sounds surrounding you, the thought of ever leaving this room having left you entirely, drunk on him and only him. Only then did he answer.

“I could not be happier than in your arms.”

“Tonight is not about me. But if you ask…” half a smile crossed his features, as you were marvelling at him, sweating and hungry for more. You never thought anyone could look at you with such reverence in their eyes.

Your heart clenched. Your hips stilled between his hands before he pulled your legs apart.

“If any of this hurts you, please tell me.”

As he pulled himself out, you could feel it down your thighs. It made you hungry for more, somehow. The emptiness he had left behind was soon replaced by the warmth of the sheets on you, his arm sneaking around your waist. He pulled you to him, your head resting on his chest, eyes weary and tired. He did not say a word, the pad of his thumb tracing the column of your spine in lazy strokes and you could hear his heart under you ever so erratic becoming soft and in rhythm with yours. Never could you have imagined this to happen to you. It was nothing short of a miracle, that he found you and you him. You let yourself bask in it for a little while, the shadows of the room luring you into a daydream you longed for deep in your soul.

He laid himself on top of you, his weight never suffocating you, his eyes ever so inquisitive. You nodded slowly, fingers weaving in his hair making him close his eyelids under your care. He placed himself between your legs, your folds welcoming him in a warm embrace. As he pushed into you, a tear escaped you, a dull pain at the pit of your stomach appearing. It stopped with the movement of his hips against yours, ever so gentle, his irises never leaving your face, forehead against yours, before leaving blazed kisses on your skin. Something feral woke up deep inside you, your hand clawing at his back, enticing him to keep going. His groans and moans were echoing in your chest, when he bit down on your shoulder with a swift bite, drawing blood to the surface. The heel of his hand was gripping tightly your ass, moving your legs until they were locked at the ankle behind his back. You felt a renewal of pleasure as he moved your legs higher, visibly impossible for him to stop. His hips were sure to leave bruises on your own. Soon after, you met your end, in a blinding white light, clenching around him. Then he could not stop himself from rutting into you, leaving his seed deep inside you.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

The question was asked as if in pleading, praying the bubble you were in would not burst with its utterance. Eomer merely smiled, reassuring you. He grabbed your fingers, kissing your knuckles one after the other in a tender gesture.

“Both.”

His cheeky grin made you smile despite yourself. Your eyebrows rose of their own accord, not able to hide your surprise. Amused by his newly found confidence, you laughed and kissed him deeply, weaving your hand with his. When you tried to pull back, his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and a shiver ran down your spine, eyes wide open. The warmth you felt before, came again. You pulled yourself up and as you were laying on top of him, kissed him as deeply as you could. He did not stop you, his hands on your hips again, where you could feel the friction leaving him hard again. The power you had over him was so obvious. It would have been a crime not to use it to your advantage.

On instinct, a hand to the headboard to support yourself, you dragged your core up the length of him never looking away from his eyes. This new side of you was a pleasant surprise he was delighted to discover. A grunt and an insult passed his lips as the movement dragged down, before starting again, and again, and again. Seeing him willingly relent his control into your hands did things to you, you never thought yourself capable of. Abruptly, his grip on your hips tightened in a desperate gesture to stop your actions.

-…inside me.”

“As much as this is pleasant, I’d rather be…

It had rolled off your tongue so easily. Sultry tone and all. Eomer wondered how he would cope if you were to disappear from his life, taking all you were away from him. The answer never came as he snapped back to you, guiding you down on him. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your back arching into his skillful hands, while he kept on guiding you, the movement of your hips made him jerk upwards deeper into you. Making you cry out in pleasure was his new favourite thing to do, he believed it to his very core. The little sighs, your heaving chest, your hands clasped on his, right on the dips at your hips, the full-out cries, the whimpers, the way you felt as you desperately chased your climax, everything turned him on more and more with each passing minute. The worst part was the way you looked at him, with only desire dilating your pupils, adoration in your every movement when he pulled you down for a sloppy, messy, heated kiss. Forehead against his, your hips moving on instinct, the hot breaths shared between you, all of it turning feverish upon reaching the high you were seeking, before it all snapped, a heat leaking into you as he pushed deeper than before.

You stayed there, relieved, shivering in pleasure. He was still, inside of you, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sleep now. We have all the time in the world, wife.”

You did not even bother to meet his eyes, as yours were already closing.

“No. I want to be pregnant. Now.”

Eomer laughed and it shook your whole body. Barely registering his kiss on your temple, you fell asleep as he had asked you to, in his arms, protected and content.

Next and last part

#happiness series #eomer x reader #eomer xf!reader #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #tw: sex

109 notes · View notes

teecupangel · 1 year

Note

Back to the animal Desmond trope, I can just see a cat Desmond casually walking into various era's, fucking up the Templar's plans by just doing normal cat things, like casually pushing a glass of water onto a letter that never gets sent that would set off murder plans, and then just staring at the nearest Assassin ancestor looking to be carried off somewhere sunny to sleep. He's done his work, human, now worship him as the great cat gods of egypt said he'd be and fetch him a fish lol

For this one, I'm just imagining a white cat with POE gold eyes like this (but lighter golden eyes)

And he’s a cat that appears and disappears whenever he pleases. Everyone thinks he’s some kind of stray and he refuses to eat any of that ‘cat food’ crap.

He will steal your food if you dare give him what counts as ‘cat food’.

Altaïr first sees him after his demotion and the only reason why he even noticed him was because his fur was too white. It was eye-catching and Altaïr didn’t need anyone turning his way because a damn cat was meowing at him and trying to climb his leg. He picked the cat up, earning a purring meow then gives him to the first beggar who tries to ask for alms, surprising both the cat and the beggar and giving Altaïr enough time to run away from both of them, ignoring the indignant howling the cat was now doing. The next time Altaïr sees the cat, it was after the assassination of his target and the cat suddenly swooped down from the roof, slamming its claws to a guard’s face that was about to hit Altaïr from the back while Altaïr was busy taking down three more guards. The guard threw the cat off him but Altaïr was faster, grabbing the cat in midair and taking him with him as he made his escape. The Rafiq had looked at the cat that Altaïr was holding in one hand and just told him that they didn’t have any food to spare for the cat. After that, the cat just pops up every now and then, helping Altaïr by being a distraction or actually trying to air assassinate guards with his claws. He accepts scritches only from Altaïr but any Assassin can pat his head and back. Once Altaïr was the mentor, he cuts part of his red sash and ties it around the cat’s neck, announcing him as part of the Brotherhood. (Altaïr is pretty sure Malik gives him half of his food every time the cat sits next to his plate and stares at him quietly)

Ezio first finds the white cat with the vibrant red ribbon in Villa Auditore. To be more specific, the cat had been sleeping on top of chest armor that was on the pedestal by Altaïr’s statue. The cat yawned and jumped off the pedestal, wiggling out of the bars, and sat in front of Ezio, meowing at him. Ezio scritches his neck which made the cat purr before rolling to his back and batting Ezio’s fingers lightly. After that, the cat seemed to stay in Villa Auditore most of the time but Ezio does see him walking around town as well. Everyone in town loves him and gives him food or just pets him. Only Ezio is allowed to scritch his neck. The cat also seems to have the habit of being in certain areas in town that would yield the most profit if Ezio was to rebuild/renovate them. Then he started appearing in certain sections that would bring more money to the town if he had the architect focus on them as their next project (like the abandoned mine). Claudia believes he’s a cat that brings good fortune. Ezio is simply just happy that petting the cat seemed to be helping their mother in some way. (Then the cat appears in Roma to help Ezio with finances and then in Constantinople to give Ezio tips on where to invest and Ezio, at this point, is pretty sure the cat doesn’t bring good fortune but is actually some kind of god of money and finances. Hey, if Minerva isn’t really a goddess, maybe the god of money and finances is a goddamn immortal cat)

Edward grabbed the first cat he sees when they finally landed somewhere safe after escaping the Spaniards because every ship needs to have a ship’s cat. Not just because they kept rodents at bay but because it’s superstition and sailors/pirates are a superstitious lot so Edward’s not gonna take any chances. Turns out the cat he dragged into the ship didn’t like being grabbed without even a ‘hello, beautiful’ and refused to kill rats. Instead, the cat, for some unknown reason, got all the rodents to be at his beg and call. In one loud yowl, rodents from all over the ship will skitter to his location………… which always turns out to be the captain’s quarters just as Edward was about to go to sleep.

Ratonhnhaké:ton was sure the white cat that appears and disappears all the time was some kind of spirit. That was the only reason he could think of to why he would always hear the same meow in the direction he needed to look at to have enough time to hide or to find whatever his target was. The white cat was also the best hunting partner Ratonhnhaké:ton ever had. What he lacked in strength, he made up with speed and the ability to jump from branches to branches faster than any animal Ratonhnhaké:ton had ever seen………… He also has the habit of suddenly swooping down from the rooftops and slamming into Haytham’s head, clawing his hat and, more than once, actually managing to take the hat off Haytham and running away with it, dragging it to the mud and getting Haytham to run after him where the poor hat ended up in horseshit. Strangely enough, Haytham never got angry at the white cat and when Ratonhnhaké:ton asked why, Haytham simply said…

“You do not anger the Rat Caller.”

#desmond as a cat #altaïr just thinks the cat is an intelligent ball of fluff #ezio thinks the cat is the god of money and fortune #ratonhnhaké:ton thinks the cat is a spirit that likes to hunt with him #the kenway father and son think the cat can summon rats like hugo #if anyone wants a continuation with rogue to syndicate #let me know #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #connor kenway #ratonhnhaké:ton #haytham kenway #edward kenway #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

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mangatxt · 10 months

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any advice on how to improve writing style/get ideas for fics and dialogue? i’m forever in love with the way you write. it flows well, and the dialogue is super authentic and funny. i’m trying to get back into writing after a couple years of being crushed by the american secondary education system, so any tips would be much appreciated.

keep it up with the good work! i look forward to continue reading :))

Holy moly, this is a super kind ask. I'm so happy to know that you enjoy my work. Thank you for sending this!

As for the meat of this ask -- I'll do my best! I'll offer some reflections and then link some resources I've personally found helpful! I apologize for the length of this answer. This ask gave me a lot to think about, and brevity is my weakness as a writer.

I answer this with a few caveats:

I'm not an expert. I'm just loud.

I teach writing for a living, but I don't teach creative writing specifically. I do, by nature of my job, have more time for reading and writing than I did as a full-time student or corporate employee. That alone makes a huge difference. Everyone goes at their own pace, and it's hard to be creative without time, especially when you're starting out or getting back into writing after a break.

I write humor, so I'll discuss that primarily. While writing has rules that generally yield better results, comedy works often because it violates those established rules. Like many writing teachers, I have fully internalized the touted "canon" of Strunk & White's Elements of Style and George Orwell's Remedy of Six Rules. But sometimes, adverbs are funny. So I'll write an adverb, say "fuck you George Orwell," and, scandalously, call it a day.

If you want to deconstruct and consequently ruin comedy forever, start with Theories of Humor and then, to extend your suffering, hit the footnotes.

Humor writing is culturally dependent. You won't make everyone laugh. You'll flop. You'll embarrass yourself. You have to be willing to risk being unfunny. So it goes.

You can always publish anonymously on AO3 if it helps you start. Or for any reason. You can change your mind and claim it back to your account. Or you can abandon it entirely. I've done it plenty. Sometimes, it's what you need to do to draw up the nerve to put yourself out there, and that's completely fine.

Reflections

My first personal rule is that I write stories for myself, fic or original. If someone else likes it, that's a bonus. I write what I want to read. That factors into my overall writing style too. I write how I'd want someone else to write it for me. Even if someone's written it before, which is often the case with fic writing and popular tropes, I might want to hear it in another way. See: The Two Cakes Principle.

My second personal rule is that I write something every day. Even if it's a little bit. Even if it's all trash. Anything's better than nothing. Write without editing. Write without your spell checker on, even. (As they say "write drunk, edit sober" -- I don't drink much, so for me that means "write at 3AM, edit at not 3AM"). The more you play around with words and practice your voice, the easier it will get. Part of this is honing the muscle or whatever, but part of this is also gaining familiarity with structure that will make writing forever easier. How do journalists crank out stories everyday? There's a structure to newspaper and magazine articles that makes it easier to plug in the words and go. You'll find your own in creative writing too. Plus, the more you write, the easier it is to let go of things (aka kill your darlings). (Killed darlings go in your bits folder.)

My third personal rule is that I write every idea down, no matter how vague or ridiculous, because I might be able to use it later. I never want to lose things. I use my phone notes for this. They're full of silly ideas -- funny things I overhead at the library, out-of-context conversations I imagine Reigen and Dimple having, Wikipedia articles that I liked, funny plot concepts, etc. The other day, I wrote down, "The gang carbon-dates Dimple." I dunno where I'm going with that, but I like the idea. I write a lot of my plot ideas in IASIP title card style. It's more fun that way. Always prioritize having fun.

One last personal rule is that the mechanical act of writing has a purpose. You're rarely writing for the purpose of writing well, right? Most of the time, in class or at work, I'm writing for the purpose of being understood by my audience, and therefore, I do whatever I must to make my message better understood, even at the expense of "good writing." Here's a silly example: I've learned the hard way that some of my co-workers can't fucking read. So instead of paragraphs, I write emails in bullet points with bold and underlined text. At the expense of prose, the message is more likely received, and that's the goal.

This example might be on the nose, but it applies in some way to everything I write. When I write fic, I have to have a purpose. Maybe I'm trying to make myself laugh. Maybe I'm trying to explore some theme or feeling. Maybe I'm trying to correct canon. Maybe I'm trying to speculate how the conman will handle a Situation. Whatever that end is, I find the writing comes easier when I focus on the end more than the process of writing. It helps me stay focused, when I remember that writing's just the tool. I hope that makes sense.

Developing a writing style or a narrative voice depends on the writer. I'm an amalgamation of what I've read and watched and enjoyed, combined with formal writing education and my own personal narration. I hate to be the person who says "read a lot to write more!" I hate it so so so much, but...it's true. (That said, it doesn't have to be the classics. I get inspiration from there, sure, but I also get inspiration from sitcoms and crossword clues and the inane HOA emails my landlord forwards to me. "Honored neighbors, we are ecstatic to announce fire alarm testing next week..." Like, I'm sorry? That's a work of art I've filed away for later.)

For fics, some of the way I write is homage to the original creator. I consider this a plus, not a requirement. ONE writes satire. He's foremost a humorist. Most of his works are genre deconstructions. Like most shonen mangaka, he writes shorter narrative arcs that sum to (or in his case, reflect across) the overall narrative arc of the work. He's also pretty cringe/over-the-top with wordplay and cultural references (pop and traditional). When I try to reflect elements of his style in my own work, I find his characters easier to work with. For me, it's hard to write something fully comedic or fully serious with MP100 characters. The alternation between comedy and tragedy in MP100 works because it plays on emotional investment in the characters and subversion of expectations.

That said, I'm going to have to add something controversial: as a fic writer, how much you adhere to the original work doesn't fucking matter. (See my first rule -- write what you want to read.) Fic writing is meant to be transformative. The amount that you should care about canon depends on what you're trying to accomplish. My advice is to play fast and loose as much as you want. Unfollow and block the "he wouldn't fucking say that" people if it helps you write. I do, because they're annoying. Characterization is a product of audience internalization. Further, every work is for someone. Most importantly, you're doing this for fun, not pay or obligation. Sure, maybe ONE wouldn't write Reigen saying a particular line, but ONE also writes homophobic stereotypes into his works. No matter what you do, by definition of writing a fan work, you're gonna stray from canon. It's not holy word. Don't waste your finite man hours stressed about it.

Moving on to discussion of "get ideas" -- I mentioned I write every idea down. I try to stick with ideas I know fairly well off the bat, because it's easiest to write what you know. In absence of that, I find more inspiration in the research into an idea. Much of the action in TPC was heavily inspired by George Santos's many misdeeds, which I read in the news or on Wikipedia.

If I can distill the idea into a premise, it informs my narrative voice in a given work. Write what you know applies to premise as much as character perspective. You're always going to have an easier time writing a character you relate to or you encounter in real life and know quite well. You might consider this to get started. Personally, I find Reigen and Mezato easiest to write, because I relate to them the most. I find Serizawa and Shigeo more difficult to write, because I have more trouble relating to their life experiences. On the other hand, I find Roshuuto easy to write, because his brand of villainy is more familiar to me.

There's this notion of plotting vs pantsing. A plotter outlines every facet of their work before doing any writing. A pantser makes it up as they go (read: "by the seat of their pants"). Figuring out which one you are will enable you to write more comfortably.

Personally, I'm somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. For MP100, I always know where a work will end when I start. In TPC, the second scene I ever wrote was the epilogue. For me, the middle is what's more up in the air. In my experience, it's very difficult to be a total pantser and write comedic multi-chapter works, unless you write the whole thing before you post. It's not impossible, but in my opinion, humor relies on callbacks and repetition so much that you risk writing yourself into a wall if you're not careful. In general, I don't start formally "fic writing" without an overarching premise, but the premise might be as simple as: "Against everyone's better judgment, Reigen runs for union president. It blows up in his face."

This was my original outline for TPC before I even wrote chapter one:

I had the overarching narrative and the rough timeline for the mini-arcs in mind when I started. A lot of it ended up changing or shifting. I had a few themes I wanted to cover and comedic elements I wanted to set up. But when it came down to more specific mini-arc narrative details, I either plotted later or got away with pantsing it entirely.

Sometimes as I write chapters, I get stuck on individual scenes. Maybe I'm struggling to write scenery, or I haven't figured out a character interaction, or the dialogue isn't flowing the way I'd like. To deal with that, I have trained myself to write out of narrative order as needed. I write the scenes I'm most excited about first, and then I come back and fill in the rest of the connective tissue. This is easier in Scrivener, which is what I use to write, but you can set up any word processor to do this. Even within scenes, I sometimes skip parts that I need to think about for longer. Sometimes, I don't even finish sentences.

I'll write something like:

"Apparently you're quite popular on a particular Mobbit sub," he tells Reigen. Reigen's not sure he wants to know which one. "It was r/<SOMETHING FUNNY>. Did you know they hit a million subscribers this week? I think you helped."

And then in the middle of the night or in the shower or at the grocery store or whenever I think of "<SOMETHING FUNNY>", I fill it in later. When I edit, I make sure I clear out any remaining "<>." I do what I can, and then Future Ani does the rest. *handshake emoji*

For comedy writing, there are rules I follow that I'll link later on. While I've been inspired by a lot of other humor novelists or essayists, I also take a lot of inspiration from TV and standup.

I took a screenwriting class in college -- and while I didn't get the knack of screenwriting (B-, unlucky), I did learn a lot about plot progression, dramatic irony, show-not-tell, rule of threes, and scene setting. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but I found it helpful. You can see some of that inspiration manifest, for example, in that many of my fics have cold opens. I've always liked that comedic structure for drawing in the reader while establishing an overarching theme for the chapter. I do a lot of scene-switching and flashbacks as well. Scene-setting in comedy often involves juxtaposition -- e.g. "what if we put the weirdest loner from 7th division in a highly-collaborative corporate setting?". You're subverting expectations, and this is where you break the rules. Sometimes, comedy is about using the funniest word or word combination possible to describe something.

On that note, take some tips from poetry too. Alliteration, repetition, synecdoche, a lot of poetic devices work well here, because, like poetry, comedy writing depends on build-up and timing. Rules are best broken when it's rare and unexpected. It's way funnier and impactful when a character who never swears drops an f-bomb when they've finally had enough. Here's another example: in general, you should avoid epithets in fic writing, but it's all about being judicious with your timing. I can call Reigen "the union's esteemed president" instead of his name in a scene in Executive Privilege, because I juxtapose it with him doing something less-than-esteemed.

Perhaps less obviously, the TV influence manifests in the way I write dialogue too -- shorter and generally interleaved between the characters. While I read everything I write out loud during editing to check flow, I especially focus on tightening up dialogue. I don't always get it right, but I try to make sure that every word in a piece of dialogue has to have a purpose: either characterization or timing, in that order. Serizawa uses a lot of "I think" or "In my opinion." Reigen...does not do that. And Dimple is a master of the last word in the form of a pithy quip. If I plan my scenes to use that characterization to support the comedic timing I'm shooting for, it works all the better. (e.g. -- let Reigen babble on like an expert about something he doesn't actually know anything about, let Serizawa think on it for a while and come to a conclusion that puts Reigen on the spot, let Reigen backtrack, and then let Dimple add his jab at the end. And scene.)

Aaand that's a lot of reflection. Probably too much reflection. These are some considerations that have helped me over time, so I hope others might find it helpful too. Getting started is tough, and it's often terrifying to put your work out there (and somehow, even more terrifying to put a GDoc in front of a beta reader, I haven't a clue why but it's true for me!). But once you start, I promise it gets easier! You'll build yourself a foundation and continue to pick up things you like, discard things you don't like, and grow from there.

Thanks again for sending this ask. It means a lot to me. Happy to continue the conversation and field other people's thoughts on any of this! Like I said, this is a reflection on my process, but everyone develops their own unique approach to writing over time. Mine changes over time too. Above all, I hope you can heal from the crush of the education system, find enjoyment in writing again, and discover the style and process that works for you <3

Resources (AKA things I personally have bookmarked):

general writing (in addition to Strunk&White, Orwell, and others mentioned earlier):

how to get out of a writing slump (this fixed me once)

masterlist of general writing resources

another big ass masterlist

resources for describing places

masterlist of facial expressions

how to write an inciting incident

i found this recently: cultural differences writing work set in japan

i also follow writing prompt blogs, nanowrimo, character and relationship week blogs, etc. prompts can be a great way to start and build community with other writers!

comedic writing:

basic tips on writing humor

comedic devices

comedic genre

i can't find the link for this BUT: humor and comedy is not inherently less complex or wise or valuable than non-comedic work. writing is writing and fics are fics, whether they make the reader laugh, cry, or both.

#ask #mp100 #writing #writing resources #m0bloo #comedy writing #fic writing #sorry i went nuts but this really made me think and i appreciate that #and if you ever want a reader or a cheerleader feel free to reach out #testimonials #fic updates

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