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anantaru · 1 year

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— rejecting his cuddles

rejecting his cuddles feat. al-haitham, cyno, diluc, scaramouche x gn! reader

a/n: i spontaneously wrote this after coming home from a night out while craving fluff and cute things

genre: fluff, we're a lil bad for messing with them but who cares, right

— al-haitham

"no thanks!"

you couldn't possibly reject his attempt to cuddle you right now, or could you?

at first, al-haitham‘s smile will slowly drop, not at the reason you might think because he actually is sure this has a deeper meaning, right?

jokes aside, actually he had you figured out from the start but wanted to see how far you would go, putting on the best fake facade one could pull off, it's almost as if he was a natural at deceiving people.

"no.. thanks?" al-haitham was quite impressed on how you managed to reject him this smoothly, it even hurt a little if he was being honest.

He wasn't stupid though, he was aware you were clearly messing with him, his little angel could be a little brat sometimes, that's what he cherished and loved about you as well.

maybe.. he should just try again, right?

with that in mind, al-haitham opened his arms again to advance towards your body to close the distance only for you to wiggle yourself away before he could catch up to you.

"no thanks, i‘m good!"

okay, maybe you were quite cruel today, you honestly didn‘t think much of it and wanted to tease your boyfriend, it was mostly him who would triumph over you so it was natural for some payback here and there.

curiosity got the best of you and that‘s why you were pushing your little scheme a bit further than you actually anticipated to do in the first place, seeking a reaction from your boyfriend.

the second rejection was a literal whiplash right into his face, but then it went clear as day to him, the solution to all of this warmly greeting him.

"okay."

if you could play such game, he surely could do so as well, he deducted that if he was to ignore you now, your fake facade would fall within seconds.

how else were you supposed to keep playing this with him not giving you any attention anymore?

al-haitham was about to get up from his seat as you quickly grabbed his wrist, holding him down.

"okay i was joking don‘t go!"

the slight worry on your face was hilarious to him, how he knew you like the back of his hand was almost scary. In his eyes there wasn‘t anything easier than figuring you out.

"you should stop messing with me before i‘m thinking of a way to get back at you."

— cyno

the general mahamatra had a busy life, cyno was on duty every day and once he got home after a long night, the least you could do is hug him!

today you felt like you should play a little trick on him, just for a quick giggle in your relationship. Contrary to popular belief, cyno was actually an overly humorous person, even though his jokes mostly didn‘t land as he intended them to.

with that you heard the front door open with cyno following suit. You decided to greet him as always and walked towards your boyfriend as he tiredly smiled into your direction, already opening his arms.

"how was your day?"

normally you would‘ve hugged him first and then ask him a question, but today you stood right in front of him without drawing yourself into his embrace.

"it was good, come here." once cyno noticed you weren‘t moving an inch, he thought he should be the one to just hug you instead, yet after attempting to do just that …

"no thanks."

there was an awkward silence followed by cyno looking at you in slight disbelief and irritation. His eyes were low lidded and his expression tired, he really just wanted a hug!

"okay, i understand and respect it, but i don't agree with it."

typical cyno, now that you think back at it you don't really know how you expected him to respond to you. He was a gentleman at heart and immensely respected you.

yet though he didn‘t let it on, this was truly the worst thing that happened to him, yet he obviously doesn‘t want to force you either.

with a flash of guilt throwing itself at you like a fierce force, you quickly stopped him with a big hug from behind, resting your head on his back with your arms tightly shut around him.

"i‘m just messing with you, i‘m sorry."

ending your little sentence with a tiny giggle to soothe the mood, cyno turned around to face you at last, looping his arms around your body in return.

"hah, funny."

— diluc

in any other case diluc wouldn't think too much of it, but the way you were denying his physical affection did throw him off in an unnatural amount.

"no thank you, i'm satiated."

"satiated?" the word blurted out of his mouth in an irritated way, he became confused and unable to recall what the most alarming aspect of this situation was right now.

the fact you didn't want his cuddles, which you once stated were the absolute best, or the fact that you stated you were quote on quote, satiated.

satiated by who?

the urge to throw himself into your embrace was always there, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Diluc was patient with you and so were you with him.

yet he would lie if he didn't feel worried about this, the poor guy having not a single chance of noticing that you were clearly messing with him out of sheer boredom.

as a matter of fact, you didn't intend to go this far, nor did you think diluc would grow this anxious now, making up your mind you decided to end your little play after all as he spoke again.

"is something wrong? if i did something you must speak to me."

noticing how he shifted his eyes around the room, the guilt consumed you from within with your hands quickly grabbing his waist to draw him towards your warm body.

"I'm so sorry, i was trying to mess with you don't worry please."

with a momentary silence and his body frozen, he sighed in relief upon snuggling close to you, feeling the fastened beat of his heart, or was it yours?

"hmpf, maybe i shouldn't hug you for a while."

your eyes widened at his overly cheeky, teasing wording, your lips carved into a pout as you searched for his face, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"it was kaeya's idea, not mine!"

— scaramouche

it wasn't often for scaramouche to search for a hug, not that he didn't want to hug you but he still wasn't completely accustomed to it, to trust a person again and simply relax under their touch.

one might say you were cruel for even thinking of pranking him, because who knows how he would react?

you, will now, know, this sliding second, when he suddenly came back from a long boring day, wiggling himself out of his shoes before he came walking towards you.

it became a slight habit of yours to hug whenever one of you would meet the other so scaramouche didn't think too much of it, he was actually looking quite forward to cuddle with you, so when he finally reached his desired destination, you backed away.

"lets not."

his brow raised almost immediately with his eyes lightly scrunched together in irritation, "lets not .. what?"

his voice had an annoying edge, the one you knew far too well. Sometimes scaramouche involuntarily spoke like that, he didn't even mean to come off as rude but it was a natural thing laced in his tone.

"i don't want a hug, thank you for the kind offer though."

the dazed look of bewilderment on his face was adorable, you felt bad for even finding it cute in the first place as scaramouche continued to tilt his head to the side, rambling in a low murmur.

"i don't buy it, you're the one who can't get enough of my hugs so what are you planning this time?"

his arms crossed around his body, a smirk of his brought out a sense of mischief he was way too good at, a fleeting thought of innocent fun.

in that moment he closed the distance to you almost completely, his eyes piercing daggers into your soul when he spoke once again.

"can you hug me now or what, i don't have all day for this."

the click of his tongue was all it took you to understand that he had figured you out yet again. in all honesty, you didn't know what you expected in the first place.

with a giggle announcing itself out of your throat, you quickly gathered him in your arms, nuzzling him into your warm chest.

scaramouche returned your call and embraced you back with his arms tightly clamped around your body, the pressure applied behind it made it difficult for you to breathe, he was practically clamping onto you.

in that moment you noticed how his breathing was erratic and uneven as well, as if for one tiny second, he really did think he had done something to pain you, something to lose you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche x reader #diluc x reader #genshin fluff #cyno x reader #genshin impact fluff #cyno x you #diluc x you #genshin impact x you #scaramouche x you #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader

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stormsthatrage · 9 months

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Short snippet from the Bleach I Knew You AU.

But before I begin. *Insert deep sigh here.*

Secretlypansexualmango, if you see this, it was supposed to be a response to your ask. Unfortunately, it took a hard left-turn and ended up in. Uraichi shipping territory? Look, IDK, I'm asexual, I don't get it either. Anyway, since I don't know your shipping preferences and don't want to accidentally respond to your ask with something that squiks you, I will be officially responding to your ask in another post that is less likely to be unexpectedly unpalatable. Thank you for your patience, and, uh, I hope this doesn't turn you off the au! (*laughs nervously*)

Without further ado, the snippet:

Breaking into the Shiba family grounds is easy. By sheer comparison, breaking into Shiba Ichigo’s room specifically is almost a challenge, but it’s not anything that Kisuke hasn’t planned for.

The strange, modified kido, and the odd wards Ichigo has placed, are simple to bypass with a bit of fancy footwork and precisely-timed counter-kido. It’s practically child’s play to get past them, now that he's roughly figured out how they work and where they all are.

His job is made even easier by the fact that, for some reason, Kisuke’s spiritual pressure doesn’t wake Ichigo up. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seems to sleep deeper when Kisuke is nearby and has let Benihime out a little.

He has theories about that.

He’s tired of them being theories.

He’s here to get evidence.

Kisuke bypasses the final seal and slides Ichigo’s window open, slipping into his room. He lets his spiritual pressure permeate the air a little thicker than he would in normal company, and as expected, Ichigo’s spiritual pressure slows down as he falls further into slumber.

… And Kisuke is supposed to believe that the first time they met was two months ago? When this is Ichigo’s reaction to his presence? When Ichigo is one of the most paranoid people Kisuke, an ex-onmi agent, has ever encountered?

Kisuke is a genius. He doesn’t need to be in order to see the flaw in that logic.

Kisuke steps further into the room, gliding softly over the old wood floorboards. He pauses in the middle, taking a moment to debate where to start.

Well. Why not with the simplest?

He’s caught it a few times, the barest trace of his own power lingering around Ichigo. A fascinating phenomenon, when he can’t recall a single time he’s drawn shikai around him, let alone used enough power to leave a long-lasting trace.

He draws closer to Ichigo’s bed, until he could reach out and touch him if he wished.

Ichigo breathes deeply, evenly, no sign of waking up. At some point, his covers ended up half kicked-off. Possibly from the heat, probably from nightmares. Regardless of the reason, Kisuke can’t help but think that he looks strangely fragile this way, surrounded by the evidence of his restlessness.

He puts a hand on the the hilt of his soul-partner. “Awaken, Benihime,” he murmurs.

She stirs within him, gently, in a way that is oh so rare. Like the softest, most gradual of ocean tides, she rises, her fragrance of wet iron washing through the air around them.

And together, channeling her power through his eyes, they see.

Glowing crimson threads that they have no recollection of weaving wrap protectively, lovingly, around Ichigo. A thin but strong filament, sewn through the skin from just below Ichigo’s ear all the way to his opposite shoulder, sutures closed what must have once been a deadly throat wound. Another one, obviously originally meant to keep shut a gash down the length of Ichigo’s forearm, keeps it companion.

And beyond the battlefield sutures there are more threads. Hundreds of intangible and deceptively thin and absolutely unbreakable strands of Benihime’s power wrap around Ichigo, crisscrossing over themselves — around his throat and across his face and down his torso and up his arms, visible wherever his bare flesh is exposed — seemingly serving no purpose.

Benihime’s power surges at the sight, a hot delight running through her as she sees Ichigo so thoroughly caught in her webs. Kisuke’s fingers suddenly, urgently ache with the urge to touch, to tighten, to add more.

Soul King.

No purpose other than, it seems, to satiate their own possessiveness.

Kisuke exhales a shaking breath. Closes his eyes for a brief moment. Gets the heat in his blood under control.

No purpose other than to alert themselves, perhaps? Did they know that one day they wouldn't recognize Ichigo anymore, and left this as a clue?

(And oh, what a clue. What a clue it is.)

He lets Benihime’s power fade, taking his hand away from her hilt. He’s self-aware enough to know when he needs to stop tempting himself, and he’s gotten the evidence he came for — far better proof than he could have ever anticipated.

He takes a step back, and the motion is the most unnatural thing he’s done in a long, long time.

He has questions. He has a few theories, too. Amnesia, caused by a very specific type of parasitic hollow. Dimension travel. Time travel. He doesn’t have enough information yet to figure out which is most likely, but he has finally confirmed beyond doubt that Ichigo is his, has been his, and something tried to steal that from him.

Fury flares within him, burning through his veins, and he can’t do this right here.

He takes another step back, this one just as unnatural as the last.

He can’t ask, yet. He can’t get closer, can’t wake Ichigo up with a soft hand on his cheek, can’t tell him that he’s there now, can’t promise him to take care of it all if he would just let him in again.

No.

Shiba Ichigo is in the middle of a chess game — a dangerous one, a complicated one — and Kisuke can’t see the whole board yet. Tipping his own hand might trigger a whole plethora of traps, including another round of amnesia, and he refuses to risk the knowledge he’s regained.

He will have to be careful. He will have to move cautiously.

He casts one last look at Ichigo, lets his eyes trace over that delicate throat that he now knows almost bled out. That delicate throat that had to be held together with Benihime’s webs. That delicate throat that he doesn’t remember stitching back together, despite the fact that he used his bankai to do it.

He was made to unknow a person he loves. He was made to unknow a war. He was made to unknow the fact that danger lurks still in the shadows of Soul Society.

He will know the end of this game. And Ichigo will learn that there is no universe in which Kisuke does not protect what’s his.

Kisuke turns. Takes another unnatural step away from his favorite, infuriating puzzle. And then he wrenches himself out of the room, out into the night, closing the window behind him and leaving as unnoticed as he had come.

#i knew you bleach au #bleach au #time travel bleach style #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #*sigh*#uraichi #might walk this part of the au back if people prefer a non-ship version

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: ah, we arrive at the Odinson stronghold.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Remember the rules, pet," Mr. Laufeyson reminds you as you pass beneath an iron archway covered in ivy and roses.

"Yes..." your voice trails off as your mouth falls open in awe.

It's a fairytale. Even more beautiful than his own garden. There's a fountain at the center of the long drive, round hedges framing it and mosaic stone all around. Petals flutter on bushes and grass sprawls all around, marble statues and stone benches speckled over the expanse. The house is built of white brick with figures of sprites and elk along the facade.

"...Mr. Laufeyson," you finish breathily.

"Yes, it is rather marvelous," he says without genuine reverence. "I assume mother will be using it as her venue for Walpurgisnacht, however, she may just as easily book the banquet hall in the next city."

"Oh," you utter.

"Not to worry, she will likely have much sorted out already. It's why I wonder at her insistence that you accompany me. She is ever decisive and much prefers doing things by her own hand," he steers around the curve of the drive and stops just before the steps. "Suppose we must take it in stride."

He flips the engine and it quiets. Birds cheep and insects hum just outside. He unclicks his seatbelt and you mirror him, climbing out just a hair after he does. You turn to gape up at the facade once more as you shut the door gently.

Mr. Laufeyson comes around and heaves, "well, then--"

"Should I get the bags?"

"Don't bother, the help will deal with it," he assures and points you ahead.

He walks beside you, stretching his neck as he pushes his head side to side. He extends his fingers and rolls his shoulders. Still the tension nestles once more in his posture. You take the steps one at a time and fall a pace behind him. He marches ahead to the doors and waits for you to catch up before he pulls it open.

You step inside and quickly slip off your shoes as you eye the shining floor. It's just as immaculate, if not more, than his estate. You try to imagine how long it would take you to clean it on your own. Maybe that's why you're here.

"Darlings," Frigga trills as she appears in an archway to your left, "oh, you have arrived."

She goes to you first and kisses both your cheeks, barely glancing off your chin. Then she turns to Laufeyson and cradles his cheeks as she admires him, "I'm so happy you came."

"Mmm, and father knows we were invited?"

"Of course," she tuts as she draws away from him, "tell me, have you eaten? You were on the road such a long time. I have cucumber sandwiches and some iced berry tea."

"I'm not hungry," Laufeyson mutters as he peers around, almost expectantly.

"What about you, hon?" She takes your hand.

"Um, I..." you look to Laufeyson for your answer but your stomach growls before you can answer.

"Feed her," he says as he flutters his fingers, "get her settled. I think I can keep myself entertained."

You frown guiltily. You didn't mean to disobey him. His eyes dull with that unimpressed haze as he turns on his heel and strides away.

"I believe your brother is outside," she calls after him.

"Thank you for warning me," Laufeyson as he scoffs and disappears through another doorway.

"Ugh, boys," she chides, "pray you only ever have one son, though a brood is never a bad thing."

She turns, her hand still around yours as she drags you through the gilded archway. You let her as you drink in the beauty around every corner and crevice. This is like a dream. You've never seen anything like it. Not outside movies. You remember that one you watched on cable with Anne Hathaway. You only saw half before your father shut it off.

"Please sit," she takes you to the long white island and gestures to a tall velvet stool, "Loki didn't say if you were coming or not. I'm so happy you did."

She releases you and goes to the other counter, takes a scalloped plate and fills it with all sorts of food from platters. She brings it to you and watches you across the narrow island. "So, tomorrow, I must look at flowers. We have a healthy supply in the greenhouse but I think a few exotic breeds would do well. Then we will go to the bakery to arrange desserts and the like. Oh, the winery may need to wait until Sunday..."

She tallies off her to-dos as you nod along. Her own long list jumbles with your own in your head. You blink at her as she prattles on.

"Darling, please eat," she interrupts herself, "anyhow, as I was saying, perhaps we could make a special day of it. A day at the winery then the spa."

You nibble on the corner of the cucumber sandwich, grateful for the excuse not to respond. You doubt she'd hear you if you did. Your stomach roars in delight as you feed it, only then realising how hungry you truly are. You weren't very concerned with your appetite as the motion of the car roiled your stomach but now, you're ravenous.

Your mind wanders back to the long drive. You turn your gaze away, afraid Frigga might see your thoughts. The same sets in as the memory sinks in your brain. You can't believe you did that to him. While he was driving, too.

"Oh, goodness me, you must be so tired and hear I am blabbing your ear off," she clucks, "I forgot the tea... unless you prefer wine."

"Tea," you answer abruptly, recalling the last time you drank. You won't give Mr. Laufeyson any reason for distaste. "Thank you."

"Aw, so polite, dear," she preens, "are you excited for Walpurgisnacht?"

You twist your lips and swallow a mouthful, "um, sure... what is it?"

"My, I didn't even think," she pours a glass of deep red iced tea into a tall glass. She nears you again and places it by your plate. "May Eve. It's a celebration of Springtime, to embrace love and fertility."

"Mm, oh," you furrow your brow. That's odd.

"Yes, we will have many visitors to help us celebrate. And some games too. Mostly drinking and food, as is our way," she explains, "I can't believe this will be your first Walpurgisnacht! How delightful."

You nod and take another bite. It's almost nice how she assumes most things aren't a first for you. How she treats you like somehow you belong here.

"I didn't even think," she taps her manicured finger on the marble, "I should've invited your father. I know he's sick but it is always good to have family close."

You almost choke. You gulp and lower your eyes. You reach for the tea to wash away the sudden bitter taste on your tongue.

"Oh, I hope... I hope he is okay," she says.

"He's... he's fine," you sniff, "he's... mad at me. We aren't... we aren't speaking."

"How tragic," she touches her chest, "Loki didn't say a word. Well, then... dear, are you alright? Where are you staying?"

Your chest sinks. Of course, he wouldn't talk to her about you and explain everything that's gone rotten. You are still just the house manager to her.

"Mr. Laufeyson kindly offered--"

"Oh, I know, I know he would," she sounds ready to cry, "my son can be so caring. It's a pity he holds it in."

"Yeah, uh, it's very nice of him," you pick away a stip of crust.

"I didn't mean to bring up sour grapes," she says, "I'm sure everything will be alright. These things happen. Families fight but they always come back together. Gosh, if only you knew the state Loki left in last time. He and his father had such a row. Not to mention he wouldn't even speak with his own brother for well over a year. Stubborn."

You look at her in surprise. It's not that Laufeyson isn't cold and distant, it's just that you didn't expect all that information dumped on you. You want to ask why but know better than that.

"I only hope things go better this time," she says.

You nod and pick up a grape from the plate. You really hope so too. As long as you follow the rules, it should.

✨

After you eat, Frigga takes you on a tour of the immense house. You don’t remember where most things are as you remain astonished by the grandeur. You can barely imagine spending the night. The thought that she lives here every day is astounding. She is the luckiest woman in the world.

She takes you up the wide staircase with its curved banisters and shows you the upper floor. You yawn behind your hand, caught as she peeks back at you. You drop your hand and smile, flicking your eyes as you try to seem more awake.

“Oh dear, are you tired?” She preens, “let us show you your room.”

“It’s okay–”

“Rest is important, and a part of Walpurgisnacht. It’s about renewal so you must take care,” she reproaches, “I made up a room just for you.”

“You did?” You murmur as she waves you ahead.

“Oh, yes, of course, like I said, I’ve been looking forward to this very much,” she chimes, “just here,” she opens the left side of a double door. You admire the patterns carved beneath the layer of champagne-tinted paint. “I believe the staff will have brought your bags already.”

“Um, thank you,” you smile nervously, “it’s all very wonderful…” You gaze around the room, “it’s too much.”

“Not at all,” she touches your arm gently, “I know my son can be a stickler, whoever knows where he got that from. You are here to enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks,” you rub your palms together, “for everything. It’s so nice.”

“Certainly dear,” she touches your cheek gently, “should you need anything, you can tap this button.” She points to a tiny silver button by the light switch, “Hilde will be around.”

“Hilde,” you nod, “okay. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you are so sweet,” she preens, “please don’t hesitate to ask for anything.” She squeezes your shoulder, “please make yourself at home.”

She leaves you with a gentle click of the door. You hesitate at the threshold, terrified of tainting the perfection of the room. There’s a four-postered bed, the sort you dreamed about as a girl, with a white frame and bedding in the same hue, trimmed in silver. The night tables have curled feet and a matching wardrobe stands against the wall.

There’s a vase of flowers arranged on the vanity and a rug with dainty roses patterned on it beneath the foot of the bed. Each piece matches the next, gilded in silver, with a touch of colour here and there. The windows are tall and open, letting in the last of the morning hues. You are overwhelmed with the sheer beauty of this place.

Your luggage stands beside the bed. Just yours. Does that mean you’ll be sleeping alone? Perhaps that is for the better. It wouldn’t be seemly for Mr. Laufeyson to be commingling so closely with his house manager.

You should find him and let him know which room is yours. You go to the door and stop yourself. It feels wrong to go off roving through the house. No, you should stay and listen. You’re certain he wouldn’t be far from you. That only makes sense, doesn’t it?

You linger by the door, ear to the crack between the doors as you listen to the house. Nothing more than a distance scuff here or there. Not until you hear hinges catch for just a moment. You hold your breath and try to see between the doors but can’t.

Footsteps, long and deliberate. That has to be Laufeyson, right? You hope that it is. You wait for them to pass before you open the door and peek out. Oh no! It’s not Mr. Laufeyson.

Before you can retreat and hide, the gray-haired man stops. He has broad shoulders and his arms are bent behind him, one hand balled in another. You gulp and slowly pull back but it’s too late as the man pivots on his heel.

“I suppose my son told you it was best to avoid me,” the man says, his tone rigid but not unkind.

“Um,” you let go of the door and step up, slumping your shoulders as you stare at his suede slippers. “No, sir, I only… thought you were Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he scoffs, “you must be the one my wife spoke so highly of.”

“Sir,” you dip your head lower.

“Odin,” he offers as he comes closer, little by little, as if approaching a skittish deer, “father of Mr. Laufeyson,” he snorts and offers his hand, “and your name?”

You accept his hand meekly and mutter your name. He grips you firmly, warmly and gives a short shake. He keeps a hold of your hand and turns it, placing his other hand over your knuckles.

“Let me have a look at you,” he urges you into the hall, “my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

You let him lead you further out. You bite your lip and exhale. You unpinch your teeth and lift your head. You look at him, squirming as he considers you. His steely hair is brushed back from his face and small coils gather behind his ears and neck. His eyes are blue and vibrant, like Thor’s, and his face is creased with and determination.

“Now,” he smiles, “how did my son capture a lovely creature like you?”

“Sir?”

“Please, Odin will do nicely,” he pats your hand, “may I use your name?”

“Yes, s– Yes, Odin,” you correct yourself.

“Wonderful, it’s a beautiful name,” he brings your hand up and kisses it, “it fits you well.”

He finally lets you go and you feel your cheek burn. You don’t know how to react. With everything you heard, you expected a horrible, grumpy old man. Someone like your own father. Yet, he’s just as pleasant as Frigga.

“Thank you,” your lips curve just a little.

“Polite little thing,” he muses, “do you like chocolate?”

“Pardon?” You’re taken aback by his question.

“Chocolate,” he repeats, “Loki hasn’t much of a sweet tooth and the other one would devour them all. I’ve got some truffles, would you like one?”

“Well, I… er,” you rub your neck, “I wouldn’t want to bother,” you stammer.

“Bother? Why ever would I ask if it was?” He dismisses, “you are my guest, I do prefer to know those who are staying under my roof. I would be a shit guest otherwise.”

You scrunch your lips up at his profanity. He notices the wince and he chuckles, bring his fingertips to his chin, “excuse my language.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “um, sure, I will have some chocolate… Odin.”

“Ah, wonderful, just this way,” he points you towards the other end of the hall, “this is part of the trap you see,” he says as he ushers you along, “I keep them in my office.”

He laughs and you join in thinly. You’re not sure he’s entirely kidding. He shows you into his office. The decor is wrought in gold and oak. It reminds you a little of Laufeyson’s study in the style, but not the colours.

“You will have your chocolate,” he assures as he closes the door, “but first, you will tell me how you ended up with that son of mine.” He strides around the desk as you hover across from him. He pulls out a drawer as you clasp your hands tight. You can’t tell him everything.

“How…” you utter.

“Yes,” he pulls out a square red box, “he hardly seems your type.”

“Oh, well, I am only his house manager,” you shrug.

“Sure, if that’s what he tells you to say, say it,” he tuts, “but it doesn’t mean I must believe it.”

You drop your head and frown. You’re a poor liar but you don’t dare tell the truth. He sighs and you peek up from under your lashes.

“Not to worry, I keep a promise,” he comes around and offers the open box of truffles, “this one is dark with raspberry, you might like it? Or this one, strawberry and cream,” he points to a dark bulb, then a white one sprinkled with pink sugar, “perhaps you will surprise me.”

You shyly reach for the box and pick out the plainest of the bunch. You thank him quietly and stare at the treat. He knows you’re lying and he’s still being kind. You wish you could tell him the truth, maybe he could help you understand it. Yet, the thought of saying it all out loud suffocates you in flames.

“Crushed toffee,” he says, “my favourite.”

“Oh, uh,” you hold it out.

“No, no, you have it,” he insists as he strolls back around his desk, “I am hardly interested in talking about my son, so let us not dwell on him. Tell me about you.”

“Me?” You blink.

“Yes. Do you read? Do you enjoy music? What are your favourites?”

You stand there, holding the truffle, speechless. You don’t know what to say. You are boring. No one ever cared about any of those things, so much so, that you never much thought of them yourself.

“Please, sit,” he takes his own advice and lowers himself into the leather chair, “enjoy your chocolate, then you may answer my questions.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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beatcroc · 3 months

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a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #the noise #noisette #pizzahead #arting #pizzaposting

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factual-fantasy · 7 months

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24 asks!! :0000🌟🎭🌟

I HAVE!!! :DDDD

Kinger and Caine are my favorite characters! I've seen a lot of theories and fanart and I've already started making my own AU and angst and everything but I cant DRAW any of that yet because I'm REALLY BUSY with an OVERDUE PROJECT AAAAA

(In recent development, Asgore is unable to heal Spamton because he is a darkener :((( )

I think it might have been addressed at one point yeah :0 Maybe something was wrong with Seam and Asgore reached out to help. In which Seam was terrified and Jevil jumped in to protect him. Asgore could see the trauma and tension in the both of them so he carefully backed off.

Later he could hear from Seam about their pasts and why they were afraid of him. Asgore would then try to take steps to.. not..? Be scary to them?? <:D

Spade king could have talked in a very gravely and booming voice. So Asgore is sure to always talk softly and clearly. He is careful to not make any sudden movements around Seam and Jevil. If he's reaching for something near Seam/Jevil he will gently announce what he's doing and make sure they understand before he does it.

Asgore with his hands in his lap: "Seam, I want to grab that bag.."

Seam: *turns "huh?"

Asgore, hands still in his lap: "That bag beside you, I'd like to grab it."

Seam: "oh, okay,"

Asgore then gently reaches for the bag, making sure that Seam can see his hand coming.

Little things like that would really ease Seam and Jevils nerves. And its what made Asgore so trustworthy to them. The fact that he cared so much about their comfort and went above and beyond to make sure they felt safe around him.

Not really a parental figure. He sees Seam as his equal in every way. So like.. he sees him as his brother of the same age.?

@beryl-shade

Oh he didn't lock Seam up in a cell. He just put shackles around his wrists and neck :00

The thing about Jevil is that the bigger the group got, the worse his habits became. And the harder it became to break those habits.. Jevil was the one who collected these people, so they are his responsibility. Giving up his food not just for Seam, but for everyone. Staying awake to keep the fire large and roaring to keep the group warm.

The others try to help him.. but they would have a hard time getting Jevil to listen to them. Telling him he needs to eat, sleep or just relax. He probably wouldn't listen because he's a bit stubborn and is probably riddled with anxiety 24/7.

Although when Asgore came around things got a lot easier.

Asgore is very powerful and has proved his trustworthiness multiple times to Seam and Jevil. So although the royal vibe is off putting.. Jevil trusts him to watch the fire at night and protect the group. Seam has been able to reason with Jevil about the food part a little too.

Jevil: "You need this food more than me. You gotta keep your strength up until we can find someone to break these chains!"

Seam: "Jevil, you consume energy to make those mirrors to other worlds. How are you supposed to keep looking for someone to break my chains, if you're collapsed on the ground, too weak to make another mirror?"

Jevil: "......."

Jevil: *takes ONE bite out of sandwich

I was thinking around 10 years or so..? Maybe more? Haven't really decided :0 And he was able to escape by making a mirror and stepping through it. That mirror basically poked a hole in the walls of the AU and he was able to step out of the AU. Effectively stepping out of his cell and breaking free :}

Also thank you!! :DD

@gracebeth3604

I've completely ignored comments like this recently because I don't wanna deal with all the drama that will surly follow. But you were really polite and very thorough with your evidence.. sooo I guess I might as well answer it now,

I am aware that people use they/them for Seam. But -> my version <- of Seam goes by he/him.

I don't reeallly have a Splatoon AU..? And I haven't played Splatoon in a while- although I do still like it and have made some Splatoon ocs!

These drawings are pretty old. I've been meaning to come back and re-draw them haha <XD

Yeah its okay to tag like that. Like "seam and jevil" or "mario and luigi". That's just tagging them as being in the same post, no big deal 👍

Also no, no art of any kind. If you truly wanna show that you appreciate my work then leave comments. Maybe reblog once in a while or send me an ask. The comments don't have to be anything complex. You could leave a "Looks great!" comment on 50 posts of mine in a row and I will see what you're doing and appreciate it endlessly.

@genericcereal-wastaken

(I most likely will lol XD) Also thank you! I'm glad you love it! :DD

@elegysonnet

Honestly I can see Seam wanting nothing wrapped around/touching his wrists for a while.. even though they need it. But he could accept cold rags being dabbed on the wounds to ease the stinging.

As for what he'd eat? Dude- anything XDD Probably a burger to start. He'd just take a big fat bite and cry about how good it tastes 😭

And yeah! Now that he has his full range of movement he has his cat like flexibility back :}}

When it comes to Seam using his magic? Its hard for a while...

He hasn't used it consistently in so long.. he would be rusty, and probably anxious to use it again. It would take a lot of sparing and gentle guidance from Jevil and probably Asgore to get his grove back.

It would also take time for him to physically heal. Having his body's energy constantly drained has really effected his ability to control his magic. He would need a few weeks of good sleep and hearty meals before he could get his groove back. But he'll get there. With the group/Jevils support, he would eventually be back to the way he was. Equally matched with Jevil. :}

@clevermakercupcake

Thank you!! :}}} 🌻🌻

I don't remember that, did he do that?? Kwazii whyyy that's nasty XDDD

@cupcake-kingdom

Seam is frightened and confused but appreciates the message! XD

Joy. There's just joy and relief everywhere.

There has been a constant anxiety over this group- not just Jevil, that Seam would suddenly collapse and die. Finally succumbing to the chains draining properties.

Now that the chains are off? Seam will heal. He will eat and stay full. He will absorb those calories and turn it into energy. And he will keep that energy. When he sleeps he will wake up feeling rested. He will heal, he will live.

For Seam, it was almost too good to be true. It just, it blew his mind. He was free. He was really free. No more pain, no more aches. No more hunger. His freedom truly starts here. The relief he felt can't be described. He cried, hard. But he also laughed, and for the first time in years, he smiled.

And Jevil? He couldn't speak. He just cried and cried and cried.. He couldn't let go of Seam. He couldn't stop looking at his wrists. Exanimating them over and over again. As if he couldn't truly believe it. All the anxiety, all the worry, all the sleepless nights. They were all over. Seam was gonna live, he didn't have to worry anymore. He couldn't let go of Seam, he couldn't stop shaking, he couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop smiling.

They will likely leave some kind of permanent scar on Seam yes.. but his floofy orange fur hides the scars around his neck. And the scars on his wrists will be somewhat covered up by his fur. So thankfully they wont really be noticeable. <:)

@nunyabusiness459

Heck yeah. After they cry their souls out together they go and crash for like 6 hours or something XDD

(Also funny username, made me laugh! XD)

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And heck yeah!! Feel free to send me your AU stuff when you're done/ready! I'd love to see it! :}}

@ocinstituterep I imagine he's just reeeeally quiet about sneaking out. My Kwazii doesn't sneak out though he knows better XD

Thank you so much! Also Spongebob has angst??? :00000

Things are mostly better!

Little Red got her knees fixed, Escorts broken down a few times but he's currently in working order! Suburban is stiillll a work in progress... undrivable at the moment- :x

Greenie now takes all 4 limbs to start, Brown is out of the garage and U.M is out of the trailer! Pretty good stuff :}}

(If any of that made sense to you I applaud you for your dedication to my Transformer ocs <XDD)

@skywillow28022

She does exist, although I didn't have any real plans for her.. maybe she was just a gal that the bros knew in passing back on Earth.?

@beryl-shade

I feel like none of them would willing visit that old stage.. expect for maybe Foxy. I feel like Foxy would be a very emotional and tender hearted character. I can see him not wanting to "leave them behind" in a way. He would come back now and then and talk to the stage as if they were standing on it and could hear him. The staff think that Foxy's programming just hasn't properly registered that Chica and Freddy are gone. And in a way.. they're right..

Foxy cant let go of their memory. And despite how much it would ache seeing that empty stage, I can see him coming back to it anyway..

This also means that part of the reason why Bonnie and Foxy clash so much now is that Bonnie is trying to snuff out any memories and feelings of the past. Meanwhile Foxy is wallowing in those memories and refuses to let go.

If any of the four of them had to preform on that stage once again? Oh man. That would hurt. It would kill Foxy to stand in the place of his late friends. He would feel guilty, ashamed.. Monty and Roxy also couldn't handle it. They would be crushed. Monty would likely get emotional and angry. Roxy would want to run and hide her face. Maybe the three of them would find a way to fake a malfunction so they could just get off the stage..

But Bonnie? Man. Maybe he's so overwhelmed that he just goes on autopilot and finishes the performance. Only to have a complete mental breakdown in his room later.. being so close to the memory of Chica and Freddy.. its crippling to him.

@skatermusic

Daww, thank you :}}}

#my response #undertale #deltarune #fnaf security breach #my ocs #splatoon ocs #the amazing digital circus

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giorno-plays-piano · 9 months

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Metamorph

Part III

Pairing: art teacher!Aemond Targaryen x reader (Horror AU)

Warnings: dark!Aemond, obsessive behavior, murder, horror, yandere, kidnapping, misanthropy, general creepy stuff.

Words: 1.1k

Summary: Drawn to the artworks of one of the most esteemed artists in the city, you wish to learn from him and find out what inspires him to create his masterpieces. You have no idea how much his secrets will cost you.

Part I | Part II

____________

You clenched your fancy Kohinoor pencil between your fingers like it's a gun, staring at Aemond already posing in front of all of you. No procrastination, you reminded yourself firmly as you drew a long vertical line across the paper to balance the future drawing. Your teacher hadn't berated you for your mistakes even once. It'd be fine if you got this one wrong, too. Anything was better than an empty sheet.

God, but Aemond was so pretty. His high cheekbones, his strong nose and jaw, and those thin but expressive lips, the long scar across the left side of his face...

You quickly hid behind your easel.

Breathe. Just get out of your head, you repeated to yourself Aemond's very words. You needed to get started, and whatever happened next didn't matter as long as you allowed yourself to draw whatever came to your mind. Explanations and logic be damned. You were an artist! At these rare moments, you were supposed to feel, not think.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling to keep your anxiety at bay, you uncleched the pencil in your fingers and slowly started shaping the figure on a sheet. It's fine. Aemond wouldn't get mad anyway as long as you did what he said.

The more you put your pencil to the sheet, the easier it was getting, something unfurling in your chest, putting a stop to your anxious thoughts and fears of failure as you continued to build Aemond's body, starting to get into details once you finished with the primary form. Regardless of his talent and uniqueness as an artist, he was still only a fellow human being like you. There was no need to magnify his power.

By the time Aemond walked over to you, you were almost finished with the painting, landing the last strokes to color the palms of the man on the sheet. It was that very red paint you had been mooning over for many months, complimenting its unusual vibrant color and a pleasant consistency. It was hard to believe you were now using it for your own artwork, but time was running out, and you didn't have a spare moment to be drooling over the paint.

"What do we have here?" The artist hummed, making you jump in your seat. How on Earth did he manage to walk so quietly in a room full of tables, chairs, and people?

Trying to focus on his question, you suddenly realized you had no clue how to present your idea to the teacher. Did you even draw what he had asked you to? What was that, not changing the silhouette and using mainly paint to express yourself or something?

You felt the beads of sweat promptly forming on your forehead as you clenched your jaw.

"You've been improving," Aemond told you, eye on the drawing as he tilted his head to the side. "Body proportions seem right, and I like the way you shaped the arms and legs. You had difficulties with them before."

Oh, really? You surely had problems drawing arms, but you didn't notice you were becoming better. A pleasant surprise. Not that one wouldn't expect to improve after taking lessons from the most esteemed artist in the city.

"Why did you paint the head and hands in red?"

Oh, crap. Why did you? You frantically searched for an answer other than "no idea, Sir, I think my subconsciousness just took over my body." Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you looked up to Aemond bent over, intently studying your artwork.

Cautiously, you muttered, "I-I think every change starts from the head, Sir."

Would that qualify for an answer? But Aemond quickly directed his gaze at you and demanded, "And hands?"

Biting your poor lip that no amont of lip balm was going to save after today's lesson, you mumbled, "Hands are the tool that make the change happen, Sir."

"Very logical, yes. Now, forget about trying to give me a logical answer and tell me what you felt when you were drawing this. Tell me about the paint."

He bent over even closer to you, practically breathing into your face, and you almost lost the ability to produce any adequate sounds. Your teacher clearly saw through your bullshit, and the thought that he was upset or even mad at you made you feel miserable.

"It's a metamorph, Sir," you whispered, one step closer to having a panic attack and hoping no student in the room was listening to your rambling, "and red is a color of life. Of change."

Aemond cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why do you think red is the color of change? Is it because the change scares you?"

"It's not the change itself that scares me. It's what the metamorph is becoming, Sir," you uttered in a small voice and then added even quieter, praying only Aemond could hear you, "I think- I think he's turning into something violent, Sir. Something terrifying."

It took you a second to recognize what you've just said and what reaction it has provoked.

All of a sudden, you were staring in the face of Aemond Targaryen with his thin lips stretched so wide in a smile that it was even a little creepy. Was he... content? Did he want to laugh at your silly attempt to explain your feelings when you'd been drawing? You wouldn't even be offended, to be fair. It sounded like nonsense to you, too.

But no, he didn't seem to find it funny. Instead, you felt his palm squeezing your shoulder firmly, his smile unwavering as he spoke to you in a hushed voice the way you'd been answering to him, "Very good. My favorite artwork today so far."

As he got up, moving to the next student on your left, you were ready to jump and run away from the studio because, clearly, you were going to burst from the excess of feelings and anxiety in the next five seconds. Your teacher said it was his favorite painting today. This banal, lacking in originality in its every aspect thing was his favorite. When blood rushed to your head, making you sweat and feel disoriented, you clutched the brush between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut.

Aemond Targaryen liked your painting. Despite being the very inspiration for the beautiful but horrifying metamorph, he actually had some sort of fondness for it because later, before you left, he actually asked you to allow him to keep the artwork for his own collection. Why did he like it so much? You had no idea.

_________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #the house of the dragon #yandere

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snobgoblin · 2 months

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erm I've actually been nervous to post my Arcana theories here but I really like this one if you'll fuck with me on this

I think that like, the way the characters use magic? is actually based on the Minor Arcana. let me explain

the suit cards, to my understanding, have an elemental association and an overarching thing they relate to in a reading. I'll list out the elemental association of each suit and the traits associated with it, to the best of my ability, drawing from multiple sources including the official Arcana tarot guide, and then when I'm done with that I'll explain how this correlates to the magic systems present in the game

Cups ☕️💧

this one is associated with water, and it relates to matters of the heart, emotions. as well as connections to other people, spirituality and adaptability

Swords 🗡🌬

is associated with air, and deals with internal dialogues, logic, and intuition. it also has associations with decision making and intelligence

Wands 🪄🔥

this one is associated with fire and emphasizes willpower, self reliance, and the ability to take direct action. there's a lot of strong emotions associated with this one, it's a passionate suit

Pentacles ⭐️🍃

is associated with earth and deals with the tangible things in one's life, physical things. it also represents hard work, stability, and practicality

NOW THAT IVE EXPLAINED THAT let me explain how this fits into the way characters will use magic

Asra 💧

i dont think *matters of the heart* represents anyone better than Asra, how about you 😉? not to mention his magic is described as feeling like rain, he communicates through water, he can MAKE water in the desert, in the gladiator battle they can control it too iirc, AND his personal gate is full of pools of water. their teachings also seem extremely emotion based in a way that's hard for me to explain, a very "believe it will happen and it will happen" kind of way to using magic (God I wish I could articulate this better but luckily the others will be easier to explain) all of this would mean they would be operating under the Cups magic system

Nadia 🌬

Intuition is her whole thing! of course she'd be the swords (also notable that Nadia is great with a sword) intelligence also screams Nadia, she knows 12 languages and when she first met the High Priestess all she wanted to do was figure out how the realm worked because it wasn't scientifically accurate to her. decision making is also fitting considering she is the Countess

Lucio 🔥

Lucio is actually a little bit bad at magic according to Asra, so I won't be relying on him entirely for this (you'll see) however, it should be noted that when Lucio summons Vlastomil, he does so by setting a fire and then cutting open the bottoms of his feet. this mirrors how Morga uses magic, like once she cuts open her palm to catch her own spear on fire, and there is no hesitation in the way Morga uses magic, like rushing into portals (not for recklessness, but because she's so sure of herself) and another time she breaks the Devil's chains via extremely precise spear throw, something Asra is impressed by. so! I think the wands suit fits just perfectly when we consider direct action and self reliance in reference to Morga, and I suppose by extension Lucio, if he practiced a bit more

Muriel 🍃

his magic is actually described as feeling earthy at at least three different points, and the way he casts magic is very interesting as well. runecasting, which is described in the game as Muriel throwing a rock and interpreting the meaning. which is a very physical, grounded way to use magic. not to mention the myrrh and protection charms he uses- those are also extremely tangible things, naturey things so I think it aligns perfectly with the Pentacles. I would even argue that Mazelinka falls under this magic system, since she uses plants to make her potions- which is also a tangible way to do magic- pulling from your environment and such

so yeah I just thought that was interesting 🤔

#arcana spam #long post #i could yap about this SO much more but i tried to keep it concise lmao #the arcana theories #the arcana

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Note

I have a request. You have to really imagine it. But like imagine DILF!seungcheol, with a daddy kink, being like your boss because you babysit his kid. And he finds out you’re attracted to him so he teases you about it. Long story short you end up on his thigh, him helping you chase your high. Then after that he makes you ride him, i don’t know why but I have this image of him throwing his head back and like that would be so hot. I don’t know this though came to me in class.-🎧

Pairing: F!reader x Seungcheol

Genre: suggestive unless yall count thigh riding as smut

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: dilf!seungcheol, loving father cheol, assertive cheol, mention of kids, thigh riding

author note: daddy. that is all. but also, A TATTOO CHEOL??? (mingyu voice: show me!)

Seungcheol was the eye candy of every PTA meeting, especially given that he is a single dad. That was one of the many things you’ve noticed since volunteering to take his place in volunteering in place of him at school events. Everyone practically gave you stink eyes seeing you instead of him, wondering why he bothered hiring a nobody when he could easily wife up one of the other single parents (yes those reasonings had no correlation, yet it somehow makes sense.)

You couldn’t blame them. Your boss is that devastatingly handsome. He turned heads every corner, smiling that gorgeous gummy smile he’s known for, even making you weak at the knees. You had to see him every day, it was natural you developed a little crush on him too, considering he checked all the boxes in your “Daddy issues must haves,” but that’s another story for another day:

He’s just so good with his daughter. He made every opportunity to prove that. He would do anything and everything for his daughter. You noticed that right away when he hired you to be her babysitter and that impression stayed with you even when you upgraded to au pair, basically breathing the same as him 24/7. That didn't make your feelings any easier to manage.

It was his fault now that you think about it. He had to grow super comfortable with you enough to walk around shirtless or come up from the pool for a late dip after the sweetie went asleep, going as far as inviting you to join him. You’d decline every time, thanking the night air for cooling your flushed cheeks, and quickly retreat to the guest room you currently reside in.

If it wasn’t to that extreme, it’s the subtle way you’re making dinner together, living out your delusional domestic dreams. His chest would briefly meet your back, grabbing something in front of you, which you could’ve easily retrieved for him. His gaze lingers on you a little longer than you should’ve when either one of you asks a question.

The tension was deafening.

“It’s really screwed up of him for being that attractive,” You spoke to the other line.

Nami, your friend, was used to your rambling at this point and rolled her eyes at your humble bragging about exactly how hot Seungcheol was, having personally only met him a handful of times. “Oh no, your super sexy boss is not only hot but a perfect father figure for his daughter, making him the most perfect living man on Earth. How awful.”

“It is fucking awful, Nami!” you cross your leg over the other sneaking glance in the gaps of your bedroom door, “He is driving me off a cliff. I don’t know how much I can handle being around him so often. It was fine every two days a week, and now it’s every day. What am I supposed to do with all these feelings?”

“Seduce him.”

“Nami, I’m being serious.”

“So am I, get sexy daddy boss to be your daddy.”

You couldn't see her but you can just visualize the wiggle of her brows.

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. And if I was going to, you know how bad that would go?”

You stand up from the bed to act out the scene in your head, exaggerating your strut toward an imaginary masculine figure, and drawing out the most nasal voice you could muster, “Seungcheol. I am so deeply and irrevocably attracted to you. Please give me one night to prove to myself how I can be devotedly yours.”

You lose yourself in your own laugh as it sounds off in the room, but it was not loud enough for you to ignore the deeper voice in the background. “Just one night?”

You freeze when you realize who it is. Nami could only get an “ooo” in edge-wise until you hung up the phone and hide the phone behind your back. “S-Seungcheol.”

A corner of his lips lifts to his ear before slowly approaching you with his hands in his pockets. He had his sleeves rolled up and the top three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of proof of how he spent his mornings at 5 am. He softly snickers, “I’d love to hear about what you can do to prove it to me.”

“Sir, I-I was simply–um, talking about your admirers I’ve noticed. I’m sure you’re not blind to these kinds of people, how forward they are, or how brass…” You chuckle nervously to yourself.

“Do you happen to be one of these admirers?”

He gets closer to you, backing onto the cushion of your bed, towering over you curiously. You could feel your heart racing a million miles a minute, eyes rapidly blinking and you tried grasping any grip of reality. “I-I’m sorry,I—”

“How cute. I figured you were acting peculiar around me but the reason for it is much more interesting than I realized.”

Either of his arms creates a barrier around you, leaving you in his direct line of vision with barely enough air to breathe. His wide-eyed gaze is tense, piercing back at you as you stare back in fear and admittedly lust.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Miss Y/n.”

His deep gaze lowers to the shape of your lips, watching them quiver at the sight of him, which fueled the yearning that settled in the pit of his stomach. He sees your eyes dilated, yet shaken, seeing your body dip behind you into the sheets he paid for, you softly panting in the room he owned, staring back into his eyes like a deer caught in headlights. His breath tickles your skin and you could feel him draw him closer.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you confirm my suspicions.”

The tension severs when he hears the voice of his little girl calling for him at the end of the hall, dropping his head in disappointment with a soft whine when the moment passes.

He turns his head and responds to her. “I’ll be right there, sweetie. You wait right there.”

He averts back to you, the sly smile reappearing on his face. “When you join us for dinner today, you’ll sit opposite of me so I can keep an eye on you. When we tuck my little dove into bed, why don’t we have a movie night? Just you and me? Is that okay with you, Miss Y/n?”

You feel as if you held your breath for a long period of time, slowly nodding back at him.

“I prefer verbal consent, Miss Y/n. Would you please accompany me on a company movie night, just the two of us?”

A hasty gulp ran down your throat, “I would like that, Sir.”

“Good.”

The man lets you be, retreating to his daughter who kept calling out to him. His slow steps taunt, echoing in your ears as you fall back against the mattress. You take a silk-lined pillow to the face, muffling your screams, hoping to suffocate under the cushion like that moment suffocating you just then. A loud exhale escapes you as you pulled it away, and you find anxiously wait for dinner time.

Before that incident, Seungcheol insisted on making dinner and having kept that promise you enter the kitchen reluctantly with his back towards you. You keep yourself at a distance, watching the frame of his body constantly shifting as he diced green onions, and you lean against the wall next to him, taking quiet breaths and struggling to do so.

It wasn’t a long show when the most darling girl calls you by name and joins your side. Your eyes grow twice their size and picked her up in your arms, side-eyeing Seungcheol who perked up at the sight of you two together. He washes his hand thoroughly before following after, cooing at his daughter and stealing her away.

Her giggles were astonishingly infectious as he bounced her in his arms, similarly to her father’s laugh in just a higher pitched tone. She was just as sweet as candy, bringing light to every room she enters. You love taking care of her and dare you to say you love her. What wasn’t there to love about someone as precious as she is?

“Alright, now, my little dove.” he sets him on the tile floor and bends his knees to her level. “Y/n and I will finish up here and bring food right out. It’s your favorite, little darling. Spaghetti.”

She bounces in her step, gleefully shouting ‘pasget, pasget’ before running into the dining area, leaving you and Seungcheol alone once again. His eyes shoot right in your direction as he places one foot over the other towards you. Your feet trace back, stumbling until hitting the smooth metal surface behind you, unintentionally cornering yourself. It’s much like the position you were in only some time ago, feeling the weight of his presence, drinking in his full attention.

When you shut your eyes, anticipating the impact, instead you hear the suction of the fridge release. Your eyelids slowly parts when you realized he just went to grab something in the fridge which you decided to fall flat against. Seungcheol chuckles at your embarrassed reaction, shutting the door to draw his lips dear to your ear. “Can’t seem to wait for me, hmm? Be a little patient, dinner shouldn’t be too long.”

You could hardly focus on dinner after the events that have occurred, glancing up at your employer occasionally as he eats his meal, who cooing every few bites at his daughter beside you. You were lucky to not have had her across from you, fearing your anxiety was obvious on the surface, unable to meet his eyes the entire night. His gaze would occasionally drift off to you, taking note of the unsteadiness of your grasp,

When the darling did finish her meal, she was all ready to wash up, tugging at your shirt to have you follow. You quickly exchange looks with Seungcheol, who nodded and let you know that he’d be cleaning up after dinner. You get to her night routine fairly quickly: bathing her, brushing her teeth, and reading her the story she wanted luckily without a hitch.

You softly sigh as her eyes drift off to sleep, seeing that perhaps dinner was a bit indulging enough to give her the sleep bug. She murmurs words of ‘good day’ and ‘good pasqet.’ You pat her head, tucking her in when you hear from the door to her bedroom creak, her father being the culprit.

He presses a single finger to his lips before delicately approaching and having a hand resting on your shoulder, having you hyper-aware of that fact. He doesn't notice as his eyes are tending to his daughter, before pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dove.”

The hand from your shoulder soon falls to the surface of your palm, lacing his fingers through. His head turns to you expectedly, watching that inconsistent breath leave you before whispering with a smile, “Shall we?”

You steadily follow him to the common area where a movie is already playing, seeing the familiar lion’s head roar at the screen above the fireplace. When you ask him what movie he picked out, he responds by saying it didn’t matter, “It’d only be background noise anyway.”

He ushers you on the couch, letting go of your hand. His whole body faces you, locked in your dazed expression, your head thinking, ‘what the hell are you about to do with your boss right now alone?’

“Mind explaining to me what that conversation was about this afternoon?”

You caught the words in your throat, an explanation you planned in your mind all day, replaying the script over and over until you were here with nothing. You blank out in his eyes, wonder what he expected, no, what he wanted you to say. He does nothing in front of you, simply balancing his chin on his hands, and propping at the elbows on his knees. His presence mere inches away from you was enough to sputter incoherent nonsense. Nothing comprehensive to the older man’s ears.

“What was that?”

“I’m…sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” he grins.

His body shifts, his expression relaxed and confident, and he fixates on your breathing. “You can tell me anything, you know. I know when to relax.”

“I…was careless and fully aware of what you witnessed, but I won’t take action, sir. I wouldn’t do anything that breaches our contract and trust.”

He snickers, glancing at the iced whiskey on the coffee table before retrieving it and taking a sip.

“Well, you’re a diligent employee, I’m sure, and even a better caretaker for my little girl. But I’ll have you know, there’s nothing in our contract about having feelings other than what other professionals do for each other.”

“For each other,” You repeat.

“For each other.” His index finger traces the line of your jaw, eyes dropping to your hips.

The silence persists. Nothing but the sound of practically white noise from the television sounds and you’re lost in each other’s presence. Seungcheol’s hand drops the glass back on the coffee table until ultimately rests on your thigh, meanwhile, your hand fingers the fabric of his cotton dress shirt was still pristine despite the stereotypically messy dinner.

“...May I make the first move then?” You ask.

“I would want nothing more.”

Scooting closer, your lips line up with his, hesitating momentarily before feeling the thick pair brush up against yours languidly. There was an immediate sense of guilt that you held hostage in your gut, pulling away almost instantly. His eyes stare back at you confused, watching you draw out excuses. “Maybe we shouldn’t…This seems like a bad idea.”

“Why…” He pesters, pushes you back on the couch, pressing you on, “because I pay you? Because I employed you? Or…because you think you won’t be able to stop?”

“...all of it.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

He takes hold of your hips and seats you in his lap in an instant, you now towering over him with your eyes blown out in shock. You groan making contact with his body, repeatedly bumping into your clothed cunt, dying to be set free of its restraints. His arms embrace your body with all the strength within him until he feels your lips finally relax against his. Your lips press against his daringly, a harsh pressure releasing with his tongue inviting you inside in mere seconds.

You press up against him, rhythmically grinding down on him. His groans leave him naturally, his grips tight on your hips. “Should I help you chase that high of yours?”

His hips guide you over his lap, seeing how one of your legs traps itself between his legs, he feels your body loosen underneath him, gradually picking up your own pace. His head slightly throws back at how bold you let yourself be. Your hand creeps through his hair, rolling your dampened arousal on the stiff steel thighs, “Mmh.”

“That feel good, beautiful?”

You nod achingly, “Yes, daddy.”

“Daddy,” his expression lits up, “Well that’s quite the declaration.”

“I’m sorry,” you manage to breathe out, “Can’t help myself.”

A devilish grin spreads far across his cheeks, pushing away the loose strands of hair away from your face. Your weight presses into him, and he feels his already hard cock twitch in his pants. “By all means, baby, call me whatever you want. If daddy is what you want, daddy is what you’ll get.”

You smile at him softly, gratefully, “Thank you…daddy.”

He soft moans, your body finding home in his embrace. Your tongue entangled with his, just pure heat between your body. His shirt is lost between the cushions of the couch, all thanks to you, and his hands reach underneath your shirt to hold you by the small of your back as the other kneads a breast in his hand. “Fuck, you feel heavenly.”

He moans against your swollen lips, running your body up and down on his thigh, hearing those sweet melodic moans he’s starting to get used to. Your skin was flushed against his, you whine loud and desperately for him to hear. “Please daddy. I want you to ruin me.”

And like that, a switch flips in his body and he’s pulling you up from his lap to loop around his waist. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

#seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #anon asks #asks #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #🎧 anon

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heliads · 4 months

Note

first of all i just wanted to say that i’m actually in love with your writing and i can’t wait to read more from you!! anyway i was thinking of some good ol’ peter hayes x fem!reader where they were both in candor together and hated each others GUTS, but then when they transferred to dauntless, peter starts developing feelings for reader so he follows her around like some puppy but she’s still on the peter-hate-train. maybe also like he starts talking to some other female dauntless initiate and stops giving reader as much attention and she finally realizes that she likes him

(this is such a long request i’m so sorry)

thank you so much!!

'Bad Liars' - peter hayes

masterlist

Starting out life on your own terms. A fresh page, a blank slate. This is why you decided to switch factions in your Choosing Ceremony, why you agreed to never see your family again except by something as meager as coincidence. Friends, neighbors, blood relations, all left behind with one swipe of a knife against your palm. It’s worth it, though. Running through the streets of your city like your world is on fire, you’re free for the first time in your memory. It’s just you in this new, grand place they call Dauntless.

Well, you and Peter Hayes.

Of all the people to come here with you, of course your fellow transfer from Candor would be Peter. Bold, callous Peter. Peter, who’s had it out for you since you were kids. No child should know that much bitter hatred, but the two of you have been arch rivals since you were small. You’d be lying if you said that leaving him behind didn’t factor into your decision to transfer from Candor to Dauntless even a little bit, but yet here he is anyway. Turns out you couldn’t run that far from him after all.

To you, it makes perfect sense that if Peter Hayes had to go anywhere, he would go to Dauntless. All throughout his time at Candor, for as long as you can remember Peter, he had been crafting his words to inflict as much misery as possible. In the eyes of the faction leaders, anything he said was fair game so long as he was telling the truth, and Peter did just that. He told his truth, which was precisely like reality except warped to cause as much hurt as he dared.

Peter’s words were honed to a knife’s sharpness, easier for drawing blood than the syringes of your faction’s truth serum. Of course he would go here, where bullets are no longer how he shapes his syllables to spike into your throat but a real thing. Why bother with figurative pain if you can produce the genuine article?

The two of you had ended up here for precisely opposite reasons. Peter wanted to hurt, you wanted to fight back. Candor is full of self-righteous bullies who believe they’re doing the right thing by being uncommonly cruel to anyone they pass. In Dauntless, everyone is finally on a level playing field. If someone insults you, you fight them, and no amount of callous words can save you then. Talk is nothing if you can’t back it up with prowess. For someone who had to swallow plenty of poison back in Candor, Dauntless is like a holiday.

However, the one thing that makes your paradise fall short is the fact that Peter decided to come here with you. He had made his decision independently of you, of course, but you’re still infuriated about the whole affair. This was supposed to be your fresh start, your one chance to escape your past and become something no one expected of you. That’s the whole point of the Choosing Ceremony, isn’t it? To kill off the old you and transform into the best version of yourself?

That had been your plan, at least, and then Peter had made his choice. You wouldn’t go anywhere but Dauntless even if your entire faction transferred over here, but it did complicate things. You had hoped that you and Peter would always end up on opposite sides of the room, then opposite ends of the faction, and never come in contact again, but as per usual, it looks like Peter isn’t much inclined to follow your whims.

From the first day alone, you knew he was going to be trouble. You were one of the first to jump, fresh off the exhilaration of the free fall plunge from the top of the roof, and reeling in the lingering aftereffects of your largest adrenaline rush to date while waiting for the jumpers to take their turns off the edge. The room was crowded, more so with each new jumper to make their move, yet somehow in all that chaos, Peter managed to find you. It didn’t bode well for the remainder of initiation, to say the least.

You had been hoping that the two of you could exchange silent, wary eye contact and then move on, your past shattered and gone for good, but instead Peter wove his way through the throngs of people and came to a stop by your side.

“Look who we have here,” he says, drawing the words out, “Y/N L/N. I never thought you’d have the guts to come here.”

“And I always thought you’d be too much of a coward to leave Candor,” you reply. “Looks like we were both wrong.”

Peter’s eyes widen and he chuckles, evidently not expecting your retort. “Careful, L/N. Didn’t know you had such a sharp tongue.”

“You’ve known me for years,” you say, eyeing him coldly. “If you didn’t know that, you’re about to be very surprised indeed. I hope you didn’t set your hopes on making first place in initiation, Hayes, or you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

Up ahead, one of the initiation leaders is calling for the trainees to fall in after him. You take this opportunity to breeze past Peter, who’s standing there and staring openly, mouth agape. You’ve put up with his bullshit for many years now, always taking it silently in fear of jeopardizing your position in your faction, but no longer. You’re on even footing again for the first time in a very long time, and you have absolutely no intention of ever caving to Peter Hayes again.

For Peter, it seems, your decision is a very rude awakening. You immediately fling yourself into the intricacies of fighting and running and shooting, which causes you to rise quickly through the ranks of initiates, much to Peter’s chagrin. Although he’ll tell anyone in earshot that he’s only letting you do so well because he thinks it’s funny to watch you struggle, you can see the panic in Peter’s eyes when you crush one fight after another. You meant what you said, after all. It’s first place or nothing, and you don’t intend on settling for anything where Peter’s concerned.

Your rivalry becomes just as well known among your new friends in Dauntless as it was back in Candor. Hardly a day goes by without you and Peter getting in each other’s way, whether it be slamming each other into the ground during a fighting match in the ring or running yourselves ragged in an attempt to be faster, stronger, better. It’s like you can’t get away from him.

Everywhere you go, Peter is there too. Staying late after initiation to get some more practice with throwing knives, he just so happens to choose the target right beside you. Walking over to the training gym in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep and might as well use the empty hours to improve, Peter seems to have the same bright idea to practice with the punching bags even despite the midnight hour. You don’t like the fact that Peter seems to have such a good knack for telling when you’re awake or asleep, you have half a mind that he might get frustrated of the close competition and take you out while you were sleeping, but he’s never gone that far.

Your friends seem to have a different view of the whole affair. Every time you complain to them about Peter never letting you have a moment’s peace, Tris and Christina, your closest friends in initiation, just exchange knowing looks and begin to tease you. They seem convinced that Peter doesn’t hate you but actually harbors a crush, which is beyond you. There’s no earthly way that Peter likes you. The two of you have despised each other since before you could talk. The whole idea is absurd.

Still, if you were nothing more than an unknowing bystander, you supposed you could see how the situation might be misconstrued. A lifetime of truth-telling in you has to admit that maybe it is a little suspicious that you and Peter can’t seem to go an hour or two without running into each other, that Peter is both your greatest threat and the object of your every waking thought. It’s just because you want to beat him so badly, of course. Of course. If it weren’t, though. If you were thinking of him not because of hatred but for something more–

You wouldn’t. You would never be so foolish. This is how Peter wins, by twisting his way inside your mind until you’re second-guessing every single thing he does, and you’d die before you let him win. If he’s willing to play the game, though, you’ll do anything to beat him at his own technique, so you up the ante and repeat it right back to him.

Sarcastic comments slip from your tongue whenever you see him. When Four takes the initiates out on guided runs, you make sure you’re jogging right by Peter the whole time, your pace steadily increasing until both of you end each race at a sprint. The rest of the trainees have learned to leave two targets side by side for you two whenever it’s time for sharpshooting practice, and heaven help the hapless initiate who asks one of you to spar as if the other wasn’t standing right there, guarding their territory.

It doesn’t mean anything, though. You still hate Peter to the ends of the earth, and everyone around you had better know it, too. You despise him as much as it’s physically possible for a human being to hate anyone, but then he starts spending a lot of time with someone else, and suddenly the hatred is far harder to come by than it ever was, and you’re not sure what to do with yourself at all.

He’s spending time with another girl. Which isn’t bad, of course. He’s got friends. You do too. But. One time at dinner, you heard Tris saying that he’s looking at the girl the same way he used to look at you, and she wasn’t talking about hate, and you cannot tell whether you were supposed to deny that he’d ever done anything but hate you or be furious at this new girl for stealing his attention away from you, so you didn’t answer at all. You didn’t sleep a wink that night, and gave up a few hours in to try and train some more. He didn’t follow. He always follows. Not this time, though, and when you came back, he was quietly whispering with the other girl. Hatching sinister plans, no doubt, or planning to stab someone in the back. He didn’t even look at you when he came in. It was like he didn’t even care.

You feel sick to your stomach. You intentionally ask other trainees to spar in the ring– look, Peter isn’t the only one capable of moving on– but it’s like he doesn’t even notice. You want to slam your hands against his chest and shout in his face, do anything to make him look at you, but instead you stay sullen and quiet and pretend like nothing has changed even though everything, everything, has.

It hits you, about two weeks later, what the problem is. Like a lightning strike in the dark of night, all of a sudden you know, a knowledge that had been blank and absent before but totally unavoidable now. You like Peter. Hell, you might even love him, if you gave him that chance in your heart. Peter might have liked you, but you brushed him off for so long that he moved on.

It hurts like a jagged hole in your heart. Someone has reached inside and broken your ribs to claw this feeling out from where you’ve so cleverly hidden it, and there’s no disguising the horror of the wound now. You couldn’t escape it if you tried.

You found out this truth about yourself in the middle of a Dauntless party, and it kills your mood completely. You can’t stand the loud music or flashing lights anymore, so you put down your half-empty cup on one of the debris-strewn surfaces and make your way out. No one notices you leave. You’re a ghost on the outskirts of a celebration of life, and there is nothing here for you anymore.

You wander until you end up on the bridge overlooking the pit near the center of the Dauntless complex. You stand as close to the edge as you can, hands gripping the flimsy railing until you’re not sure your fingers could peel away from the rusting metal if you tried. If you’d felt any buzz from the party at all, you’ve sobered up by now. You have no idea how long you’ve been standing here, skin chilled by the drafts of the pit, and then a voice sounds from behind you, and you’re abruptly dragged back to reality once more.

“I thought you’d be back in there with the rest,” Peter says, coming to a stop beside you.

You don’t dare to look at him, opting instead to keep your eyes firmly trained on the drop over the edge of the pit. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Peter sounded genuinely curious when he asked, but your tone is harsher, colder. You still haven’t forgiven him for moving on just when you realized that you liked him, and it’s leaching into your voice. Peter chuckles even still. “No, not me. The best part just left.”

You risk a glance his way, and to your surprise, he’s looking at you. “Are you being honest with me, Peter?” You ask.

His face twists into chagrin. “Looks like we can’t beat the Candor out of ourselves after all, even despite all the training sessions we’ve pulled. I’ve tried, though.”

“You’ve done a good job,” you muse. “It’s me who needs to be fixed the most.”

Peter’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head. Maybe you weren’t as sober as you thought. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Says who?” Peter asks plainly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You regard him suspiciously. “You haven’t always.”

Peter has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’ve done things I regret.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, and laugh to hide your heartbreak. “I know you, Peter Hayes. I know what you do. I’m not falling for it. Not again.”

“It worked before?” Peter asks, genuinely surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

This time you do laugh for real. “Why would I? And give you another weakness to exploit?”

Peter flinches as if you’ve slapped him. “I deserve that, probably, but I’ve been trying to be better.”

“Why?” You ask. “You’ve never cared what I thought, and you certainly don’t care about being better. Nothing about you makes sense, Peter. You’ve got a girl back there in the party who’s probably looking for you now, but instead you’re trying to apologize to me. You’ve never cared about that before.”

“But I do now,” Peter says, voice unexpectedly strong. When he turns the force of his gaze back on you again, you feel totally rooted in place, unable to move even if you wanted to. And, when he starts to move closer to you, one hand coming to rest on top of your fingers, you’re not sure that you do. “I do care. I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks.”

“I thought you were excellent at telling the truth,” you whisper.

“So did I,” Peter replies. Hesitates, then says, “Only other people’s truth, it turns out. You were always my best secret. I wanted to keep you the most.”

Your breath sticks to your lungs, refusing to grant you release. None of this makes sense. Peter would never– But he is now, standing in front of you, telling you as much as he can. Peter still wants you. It’s up to you if you want him, too.

After everything he’s done to you over the years, you owe him nothing at all. He’s hurt you more times than you could count. When you’re cold, bitterly cold, freezing down to the bone with no way of rescue save your own rough and ragged principles, you burn everything around you. Clothes, shoes, furniture. Even people. Peter burned you, and so severe was the flame of your mutual hatred that it made it impossible for anything to grow between the two of you but a jealous wrath.

Peter has left the cold of Candor and traded in his shivering bones for Dauntless’ natural warmth, and now he finally has the room to put out the fire again. He’s stamped out the inferno, or tried to, at least; but upon inspecting the last flattened spark, Peter can’t tell if he went too far. It is immensely difficult for him to discern if he has left anything of you but char and ash.

What could have been a beautiful thing went up in smoke the moment he first raised a harsh word against you. Peter loves the truth, loves most of all to twist it, but in the end, the truth cannot help him here. Peter knows what he wants the truth to be, but the truth is no substitute for reality. It is up to you if you can ever forgive him, and no amount of pretty words on Peter’s end can change that.

It’s up to you, and for the first time since you came to Dauntless, you know precisely what you want. “I know what you mean,” you tell him carefully.

Peter’s face cracks in a tentative smile. “You know? So you–”

“I do,” you interrupt. “I like you, Peter.”

You have seen Peter furious, filled with righteous vengeance. You’ve seen him bloody and bruised on the other end of a sparring ring. You thought that the brightest emotion you’d ever see on him was the pure flame of hatred, but it turns out there’s one thing better than wrath, and that’s sheer, incandescent joy. He wears it now like the finest of luxuries, and you decide that you’d like to see it many times again. As it turns out, you’ll have plenty of chances.

divergent tag list: @blondsauduun, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @crazyhearttragedy, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @alex-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#peter hayes #peter hayes imagines #peter hayes x reader #peter hayes oneshot #divergent #divergent imagines #divergent x reader #divergent oneshot #divergent peter #divergent peter imagines #divergent peter x reader #divergent peter oneshot #dauntless #divergent fanfic

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kittykat-25 · 3 months

Text

One Of The Guys -Part 6

Pairings: Hongjoong x F! Reader, Chan X F! Reader

Genre: idol au, Friends x Lovers, angst

Warnings: anxiety attacks, Feminine pet names

Summary: You tried really hard not to be a cliché, falling love with your best friend. How unoriginal. But when your best friend is Kim Hongjoong what are you supposed to do?

Now Playing: One Of The Guys- Jessia

A/n: The beginning of part six picks up exactly where part five left off🤍

Chan laid the flowers on the table and made his way to the living room. You were sitting on the couch, legs curled up against your chest. You looked so small, “y/n, are you okay?” He asked quietly. You turned and looked at him, the tears streaming down your face cracking his heart in two. He came and sat down, wrapping his arms around you tightly, “do you want to talk about it?” He asked while running his hands through your hair. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled trying to control yourself. “Hey, hey it’s alright.” Chan said, his hand cupped your cheek, “you don’t have to apologize, I don’t know what happened between you two but if you want me to go kick his butt I will.” You laughed, making Chans heart soar. “Don’t do that, we don’t need the dispatch rumor mill starting.” You wiped your eyes and sat up, Chans hand dropped from your face to your hand squeezing once in encouragement.

You took a deep breath, “yesterday I woke up and was just struggling. My anxiety was in over drive and everything was going wrong. And then work was crap and I had to stay late. So when I got home I lost it completely. I had repressed everything all day and it all hit me at once.” You started picking at your thumb and Chans hand came down gently, rubbing soothing circles on your palm. “I usually call Wooyoung or Joong because they can get here the fastest. But I knew Woo was helping Yeo so I called Hongjoong. And he, um-“ you struggled to find the words, all the hurt from last night rising back up when you saw him.

Chan reached up and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, “you don’t have to tell me.” He said gently. “No it’s fine it’s just a lot and it hurts. He basically told me to figure it out and to leave him alone. That he didn’t have time to deal with me. And that’s when everything collapsed essentially.” Chans heart sank at that statement, you continued, “I spiraled and thank god Mingi called me, he came over the second he heard me sobbing. I’m pretty sure Wooyoung threatened Joong. He didn’t tell me exactly what he said to him. But now Hongjoong has been calling and texting all day but I don’t have it in me to be the bigger person right now.” You said laying your head against the back of the couch. Chan kept drawing circles on your hand, trailing them up your arm.

The tears had stopped falling but the hurt was evident and Chan would’ve given anything to take the pain from you. “Have you listened to his messages he left?” You shook your head no, “I know it’s petty-“ Chan cut you off, “no y/n you have every right to be hurt by what he said. especially when he knows what’s going on.” You nodded, “I know but with a comeback and he barely sleeps as it is. You know how it goes. It’s a lot going on, I understand dealing with me is probably more than he can take.” Chan nodded, “yeah comebacks and producing music is hard and sleepless nights can all blur together. And I know me and Changbin and Han have all said things to each other in those moments we shouldn’t have but it never gets easier hearing them or dealing with the consequences after.” You smiled, “I can’t imagine you guys fighting.” Chan laughed, “we don’t often because we communicate but we have all had our fair shares of sleep deprived digs at each other.” His hand stop tracing and you lifted your head to look at him, “I’m not saying you have to forgive and forget. But maybe listening to the messages or listening to him apologize will make you feel better.” He said with a small smile. You nodded your head, “maybe tomorrow.” You turned your attention back to the tv, “what movie should we watch?!” You asked grabbing your favorite blanket and throwing it on top of your legs. Chan look at you and pulled you closer, “whatever you want to watch pretty girl.” You smiled and you snuggled closer into his side. Felling safe and forgetting the world outside for a moment.

As you made your way to the guys dorms, chatting with Chan on the phone, “I just have a bad feeling.” Chan chuckled, “he showed up with flowers Y/n I don’t think he’s going to turn you away.” You could hear Changbin yelling in the background, “y/n-ie!!” You laughed “what does Bin want?” Chan groaned into the phone, “for you to come over for dinner. Don’t feel obligated, they are nosey and want to meet you.” You walked to the side door of the dorm, “let me see how this goes and then we will talk about dinner.” You said quickly, “I’m here but I’ll update you.” You said a quick goodbye and hung up.

You knocked on the door and waited, you knew they were all home per Seonghwa. Jongho opened the door and you gave him a smile. “Hi baby bear.” He rolled his eyes at you but gave you a mile and a quick hug, “Wooyoung is at Sans.” You nodded, “I’m here to see Joong.” He turned around and looked at you, “do you want me to get woo back here? Or I can stay?” You patted his arm. “I can handle Hongjoong little bear don’t worry.” Jongho nodded and went back to the couch. When you went down the hallway he sent a text to the group chat letting the members know you were here.

As you knocked on Hongjoong’s door, it flew open. “Woah there.” You said jumping back. “Y/n” Joong said, mostly a whisper. “You wanted to speak to me?” You said and motioned into his room. He turned around and lead you to the desk. You sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to speak. “Y/n I’m so sorry, I know what I said it’s unforgivable-“ Hongjoong was interrupted by the slamming of a door and multiple voices yelling. “Wooyoung calm down.” You heard Yeosang start. You stood up and walked to the door, seeing San and Yeo trying to forced Wooyoung into the living room instead of coming to you. “Woo, it’s fine. I’ll be out in a minute.” You said shutting the door, not missing the glare he threw over your shoulder to his captain.

“He hates me now. All of them are mad at me.” Hongjoong said dropping his head into his hands. “Yeah well do you blame him?” You stated, sitting back down. “No but honestly I’m more concerned on if you hate me.” He said grabbing your hands. You pulled your hands out of his slowly. “I don’t hate you Joongie. I don’t even think that’s possible for me to do. But what you said really hurt me. And I get your busy but-“ Hongjoong cut you off, “no Buts. I should never be too busy to help you. Especially when you need me. I’m so sorry Doll.” You gave him a smile, “I forgive you. Thank you for the flowers by the way.” Hoongjoongs gut twisted as he remembered last night. Chan being in your apartment so comfortably.

He had asked Wooyoung about it but Woo had been less than friendly and had choice words for his captain about it. “You and Chan?” He asked, eyebrow raised slightly. His heart sank a bit when you smiled at the mention of the older man and the blush that crept up your cheeks. “Chan is not something I’m ready to talk about and I’d like for the other guys to not know anything please.” You said quietly, “it’s new and I don’t need them injecting themselves. Wooyoung does that enough.” Hongjoong nodded, glad he wouldn’t have to tell his brothers about this and try to explain why it annoyed him so much.

You gave Joong a smile and stood up, “alright I just wanted to clear the air but I need to get going. I know you guys have practice and have alot to do before Friday.” You said walking to the door. As you opened it you swore you heard quiet footsteps sprinting down the hallway. Rolling your eyes you made your way into the living room, climbing between Yeo and Woo. Wooyoung threw his arm around you and glared at Hongjoong who had walked in behind you. You pinched Wooyoung’s arm, “enough. We’re fine.” “Bubs.” Wooyoung started you held up a hand to cut him off. “No this is for all of you, me and Joong talked. We are fine. I appreciate the love from you all but you have a comeback starting in three days. You need to get your crap together and be a team.” Seonghwa smiled at you, “now get your butts to practice. Go!” You said making them all get up.

You said your goodbyes and headed towards the bus to go to work sending a text to Chan, “all is well and I’d love to do dinner whenever you guys can.” Chans text back came hours later while you were working, “perfect the kids are excited, Minho is cooking, how does Saturday sound?” You happily accepted and returned to work, not giving your nerves time to kick in. You would panic about meeting them all later.

You texted Wooyoung once you got home and as expected his FaceTime came in a second later. “Binnie told me you were having dinner with them.” He smirked through the phone. “I’ve met them all in passing, shooting Kingdom way back when but never as someone Chan is seeing. What if they hate me?” Wooyoung laughed, “nah they all have good taste. They’ll love you.” You rolled your eyes, “Woo I’m dating their leader, who they all adore and love. They are going to be protective.” Wooyoung raised his eyebrows, “so yall are official. You are off the market and over Joong?” “You know what I mean. I’ve been going on dates. Casually I guess. I don’t know. I have no clue what we are.” You rattle out.

Wooyoung whistled, “you are stressing over this aren’t you jagiya.” You groan, throwing your head back, “What do I do.” Wooyoung was quiet long enough for you to lift your phone, he was staring at you waiting, “bubs are you over Hongjoongie, because you need to figure that out before you start something seriously with Chan Hyung. He’s a good guy and I mean no harm in this but he doesn’t deserve to be a pit stop before Joong.” You looked down at your lap, “nothing is going to happen with Hongjoong. I’ve accepted that and I think Monday was just nailing the lid to the coffin. That dream of running off into the sunset with him is dead. Chan makes me happy and I feel safe and cared for with him.” You added with a smile.

Wooyoung smiled at you, “you deserve the world and I think if given the chance Chan would do that. I mean in my opinion no one is good enough for you but Channie Hyung is the best option.” You laughed, “ I love you Wooyoungie, thank you for being my friend.” “I love you too bubs.”

As Hongjoong sat outside of Wooyoung’s door, hand on the handle about to apologize. He can’t seem to move from the spot after hearing the ending of Wooyoung’s conversation. Turning and walking back down to his room, brain swimming with thoughts. Wooyoung would rather you be with Chan than anyone else. Why not one of them? Were they not good enough for you? They were his brothers. Hongjoong had so many questions. The main one being why you dating Chan has him so worked up.

A/N: Hehe I hope you enjoy it! Part 7 is going to be fun!!

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#ateez #friends to lovers #angst #hongjoong x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #choi san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #changbin

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 8 days

Text

Better Off - Bernard DeMarco x OFC - Chapter 7

AO3

Summary: On the day of Charlotte's wedding, Susie and DeMarco grow closer than ever

Warnings: Discussions of death, language

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @xxluckystrike @latibvles @footprintsinthesxnd @mads-weasley @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy @justheretoreadthxxs

The scent of someone else's perfume filled the bathroom of the Thorpe Abbotts village hall as Susie stood in front of the mirror, craning her head forward to get a better look at herself and ensure not a single hair had managed to slip out of place. Usually, she couldn't have cared less about such a thing. But today was Charlotte's wedding, and the thought of embarrassing her in any way was mortifying, so today she would play any part that was required.

With a creak, the bathroom door was thrust open, and a pair of women hurried in together, chattering amongst themselves as they reapplied their lipstick in one of the other mirrors. Susie swore she recognised the pair, but out of uniform everyone looked so different. It seemed it should have been easier to pick faces apart when everyone wasn't dressed identically, but she found that her mind was drawing a blank.

Sneaking behind the women and out into the corridor, Susie let out a sigh, arms swinging at her sides as she impatiently awaited the moment that they could finally make their way to the chapel for the ceremony. She'd spent all morning hanging bunting and streamers in the main hall in preparation for the reception, but now it seemed there was nothing left to do but grind her teeth and wait for the time to pass.

"Oi!" A voice hissed from the other end of the corridor, and Susie frowned as she turned, finding Maeve staring at her from the furthest doorframe. Cropped, yellow hair curled beneath her ears, and a maroon dress falling past her knees, she looked wonderful, but her confusion-stricken face gave her pause.

"What?" Susie called.

"What're you doing? Get in here!"

Now it was her turn to frown in uncertainty, hesitantly accompanying her to the end of the hall and pausing in the doorway. Charlotte was stood over by the window, the morning sunlight shining against the silk of her dress, creating a glowing halo around her as if she were some heavenly vision. She turned as Susie entered, a sudden look of relief washing over her. "Oh, Susie, where have you been?"

"I dunno. Just sort of... wandering. Was I supposed to be in here?"

The two women stared at her for a moment, sharing the same slightly dumbfounded expression. "Well. Yeah. Your sisters are married, aren't they? You should be a pro at this by now."

Susie shrugged. "Oh, well, I didn't..."

"Hm?"

"I didn't do the whole bridesmaid thing. They all figured it wouldn't be my thing. I just... sort of went with it."

Neither seemed to quite know how to react to this, frowning sympathetically. Charlotte took a deep breath, crossing the room towards her and taking both of Susie's hands in her own. "Well, I want you here. After all the hours you spent helping me with this dress, don't think you're getting an easy out."

Letting out a chuckle, Susie finally smiled, a grin creasing her cheeks as they flushed a bright shade of pink. For a second she almost hugged her, the sudden urge unfamiliar, but she restrained herself for fear of messing up her hair.

"Alright. Tell me what to do."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

DeMarco stood patiently outside the church, attempting to catch his reflection in one of the stained glass windows as he tugged at his jacket, trying to get it to sit right. He had begrudgingly accepted the nerves that fluttered in his chest, the realisation leaving an odd taste in his mouth as his gaze flitted from the church doors to the end of the path, squinting in the midday sun. A crowd of guests had gathered here, but he was yet to spot a familiar face, the men around him all friends of the groom from the RAF. For perhaps the first time since arriving at Thorpe Abbotts, Benny was alone. Susie couldn't have come fast enough.

"Psst!"

Tearing his eyes from his own reflection, he glanced towards the sound, a somewhat confused smile curling his lip as he spied Susie, carefully making her way towards him as she darted between gravestones, wobbling on her heels slightly in the uneven grass. Pinned back behind her ears, her curls rolled over her shoulders, seemingly redder than ever against the powder blue of her dress, which rippled and swayed with every movement. For a moment he was slack-jawed, unable to form a word of greeting to call out to her until she was standing right in front of him. Her shoulders were relaxed, jaw unclenched. She was smiling. DeMarco had gotten so used to having to coerce a smile out of her that it was almost jarring.

"Afternoon," Susie nodded, brushing something off his shoulder as she came to stand beside him. From the way her gaze lingered at the church door, he could tell they were about to head inside, but in that moment he couldn't quite bring himself to care about the wedding.

"You look... really pretty, Suze," He uttered. Her face reddened almost instantly, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. DeMarco could practically see her fighting the urge to tell him to shut up. But she didn't say it.

One of the groomsmen called from the doorway, and the guests that had been lingering on the grass began to file their way inside towards their seats, ready to finally begin. One by one, he watched them walk past and disappear into the old, stone building, but Susie didn't move an inch. Like the heels of her shoes had been nailed into the ground, she remained wholly still, almost as if she'd forgotten that she was even supposed to be there. He stayed firmly at her side, not saying a word until it became clear that she wasn't moving any time soon.

"... Susie?"

"Haven't been in a church since..." She breathed, so softly it was scarcely audible. DeMarco didn't need to ask what she meant. Feeling a sudden warmth against her palm, Susie glanced down to find he'd taken her hand in both of his, squeezing it with gentle reassurance. She looked back at him, and he swore he'd never seen such softness in her expression before, eyes welling with nothing but warmth, utterly without reserve for the first time.

"This'll be good," He promised. "Yeah?" A smile had begun to worm its way into her expression, the corner of her lip curling upward as she nodded, hand still in his as she turned towards the church door. As they crossed the threshold, he lifted her knuckles to his lips, briefly kissing the skin as a snort of laughter escaped her.

She'd elected to take a seat at the very back - he suspected the idea of being able to make a quick, quiet exit appealed to her. But once they'd sat down, it was only moments before Charlotte arrived, bracketed by her parents as they made their way to the altar, where a grinning RAF officer awaited her. She looked marvellous - the gown was truly a testament to her talent - but as the bride passed, Benny couldn't help but remember that night two weeks ago, when he'd seen Susie in that same dress. Eyes wide, hair wild, bumbling and clumsy beneath the folds of fabric - and yet it struck him then that she had looked infinitely more wonderful to him than anything else he could possibly recall.

Even as the ceremony went on, Susie didn't seem quite capable of settling, drumming her fingers against her thigh and thumbing the pages of the Bible on the shelf in front of her, never once falling entirely still. She was certainly paying attention, but she could scarcely go a few minutes without letting her gaze wander towards the door, as if debating whether or not she could make a successful attempt at escape. Leaning back against the pew, DeMarco stretched his arm out along the back of her seat, softening the hard wood when she rested against it. Wordlessly, Susie leant sideways against him, the movement ceasing in her hands. He smiled, letting his head tilt to the side to briefly tap against hers in silent acknowledgement.

She could feel warmth filling her as she rested against him, and Susie wasn't quite certain if it was more from the press of his body against hers or the rush of blood rising to her cheeks, heart pumping harder, forcing it to move. It was a strange sensation, and one that caught her entirely off guard. How could the simplest of actions put one relationship so drastically apart from all the others? She'd known comfort - known contentment - with so many others before. With her brothers and sisters, with Charlotte and Maeve. Yet it had scarcely felt so simple, like something she didn't have to earn.

How many times had she let her mind wander back to the night of the bombing raid? The night she'd bitten the bullet and finally called her sister, the night he'd first seen her cry, the night he'd held her without ever having to ask. With it pushed back into the past, Susie could finally admit to herself that it had been the safest she'd felt in months - quite possibly years. She hadn't thanked him as well as she should've. She knew that.

When Charlotte kissed her new husband for the first time the guests around them erupted into applause, echoing against the arched stone ceiling above. For a split second, she hesitated, failing to join in until she felt DeMarco's arm retract from its place behind her, freeing up his hands to clap. Once she too joined in, she was as raucous as the best of them, and yet Susie was ashamed - ashamed to think that, if he had not moved, she might not have clapped at all, simply watched in silence as one of the only people to offer her friendship married the love of her life.

When had she become distractable?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The village hall boomed with the swing of the band, the boys who played the officers' club having kindly volunteered their services for the night as wedding guests paired off and danced across the polished floor. Susie's hands were folded behind her back as she stood before the makeshift bar, fingertip tapping out the song's rhythm against her palm as she waited for her turn to order. Next in the queue stood one of the women she'd passed in the bathroom that morning, hair falling in jet-black rolls, red lipstick stark against the paleness of her complexion. The woman seemed to recognise her, turning with a friendly smile, and Susie suddenly realised that she had been one of the ATS recruits from the hut next to hers - although her name still didn't come to her.

"This is great, huh?" She asked with a grin, gesturing across the room. "Charlotte's done such a great job."

Susie nodded along, realising she probably looked shell-shocked as she brought her eyebrows back down her forehead. "Yeah, yeah - it's really great. She's been so excited, I'm just glad it went well," Glancing over to the dancefloor, she spied her friend, swaying side to side in the arms of her beloved pilot. Susie had only met Freddy a handful of times, but he'd always seemed a decent bloke to her.

"Amazing what you can pull together in times like this. Y'know, I'd just love to have something like this someday. Bigger church, maybe, but... you just can't beat a good country wedding."

"Uh, yeah, hundred per cent. Me too, I think."

The other women raised a brow, shooting Susie a questioning look. "Really? I dunno - you never seemed like a marrying type person to me."

Something sank. The bartender handed the woman her wine, and for a moment Susie fought the urge to throw it in her face. She didn't even know her.

"Oh. Um. Well, I dunno - probably."

"That's so cute," The woman tilted her head to the side, and she swore she could've strangled her. "Well, I'll see you around!"

Forcing a strained smile, Susie offered a curt nod, scared to utter another word for fear she might say something regretful. Instead, she waited in pained silence until the woman was entirely out of sight, before stepping up to the bar and ordering two pints, jaw painfully clenched the entire time.

DeMarco was smoking a cigarette outside, the warm glow from inside the hall bathing his back in a yellow light as she approached the open door, a glass of beer in each hand. A puff of smoke escaped his mouth as he turned, expression lighting up as he noticed her arrival, holding out a hand to accept his glass.

"Oh, you're the best," He grinned, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out, already moving back towards the door as he spoke again. "Let's head in."

"No-" Susie blurted, halting him in his tracks. "I mean, you can. I'm gonna stay out here for a bit."

"You okay?" He asked, frowning slightly. She nodded hurriedly.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, no - I'm fine. Just... yunno... loud in there, innit?"

Humming in agreement, still visibly sceptical, DeMarco took a sip of his beer, wandering a little further away from the hall and taking a seat in the grass where the sound from inside was muffled. Careful not to spill her drink, she joined him, feet tucked beneath her as she sat cross-legged on the ground.

She wanted to ask him then - do you think I could be the marrying type?

But he would have said yes regardless, just to make her feel better. That wasn't what she wanted.

Her siblings had all done it - had moved away into their happy homes with their husbands and wives and children. Even Ellie had had a boyfriend - and they'd always been suspicious of her brother Owen and his flatmate, John. There had to be a deficiency - nothing else could explain it. If they'd all come from the same place, all lived the same lives, then the only outlier was Susie herself.

The only problem was Susie.

DeMarco clicked his fingers in front of her face, snapping her back to the present. "-you do this thing where I can't tell if you're listening," He said.

"I'm listening," She assured him, although she had no idea what he'd been saying. He was leant back on one elbow, raising his beer to his lips between sentences, clearly in the middle of a story.

"Ok, so then I told Gale-..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing up at her. "You weren't really listening, were you?"

"I'm sorry," Susie admitted earnestly.

Benny shrugged casually. "Don't worry 'bout it, doll. Something on your mind?"

"Oh, no, it's not-"

"Nuh-uh, come on," He urged.

She sighed, before taking a long sip of her drink. "... We're friends, right?"

DeMarco almost choked on his beer, blinking rapidly as he cleared his throat. "Well... yeah. I mean, we're - we're... Yeah, I - I'm your friend, Suze. Course."

"I just... what do you actually like about me?"

He sat up straight, brow furrowed in concentration, taking her question with complete seriousness. "Well, you make me laugh - even when you're mean to me, 'cause I know you don't mean it. And you're smart, and you don't give a shit what anyone else thinks of you. You're brave - you stand up for people when they need it... and even though you're scared of caring about other people, you do it anyway, 'cause I don't think you can help it."

Susie took one long breath after another, fighting to keep her heart rate level and to stop the tears threatening to prick at her eyes. She hadn't noticed as it happened, but whilst he'd been talking DeMarco had absentmindedly reached for her, winding one of her curls around his finger, back and forth, over and over. It didn't seem that he had realised either, for once he finished speaking he dropped it, frowning slightly at himself.

"I do care," She breathed. "About what people think of me... Just not people I don't like."

"And there's a lotta people you don't like."

Susie cracked a smile, a huff of laughter escaping her. "Exactly."

DeMarco grinned. The moonlight bathed him in a blue-tinted glow, his eyes darker than ever and yet still so very gentle. This wasn't the same man his friends seemed to know - not the 'Benny' they yelled for across the pub in the middle of a game of darts, not the daring pilot with his wise-cracking charm.

There were so many ways in which he could hurt her.

And so many reasons why he wouldn’t.

"I like you."

I care what you think.

"I know."

She tilted her glass to her lips, feeling the last few drops of beer slide smoothly down her throat. These weren't their first drinks of the night, and she could feel a distinct sense of fuzziness creeping in, blurring her thoughts together.

"I didn't thank you properly - for the other week. After the raid."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Nah. You don't gotta thank me. I wanted to do that."

"... Yeah?"

"I waited for you, didn't I?"

The corner of her lip curled upwards in a soft, melancholy smile. They hung in silence for a while, a thousand unsaid implications stewing in the air before Susie could think of something to say.

"I, uh. I had to go through my sister's stuff after she died - figure out what to do with it all, y'know. And I found this old diary - I had no idea she kept one, and I still dunno how she kept it a secret when we were all in together like sardines. But there were these pages in the back, all these sums, and - she was shit at maths, right? Just so shit at it, I had to help her with all her homework, she never got it. But she'd done all these calculations, and I was trying to figure it out, and I realised it was all the money she was making from working at the paper shop - she was trying to figure out how long it would take, how much money she'd need to move out and go live somewhere else.

"Except there were all these other numbers that I couldn't understand - and it didn't make sense to me until I found one of my old payslips from working at the cinema. And then I realised... she'd been doing the maths for us both. She always wanted me to come too - she didn't want to leave me behind."

Susie couldn't quite fathom why she was telling him all this - what it meant, what she expected him of all people to take from it. But DeMarco listened nonetheless, a look of utter focus creasing his expression as she took in every word.

"I think when she died it felt like I lost my future too. Like, I didn't even know she'd been planning it, but it always made sense. She was the only person who I always felt like was looking out for me, like I wasn't an afterthought to. And... I'm not mean because I want to be. I'm just angry. All the time. Because she should've been the safest you can get and she still died, and I guess I just didn't see much point afterwards. So I found other stuff to be angry at - stuff I could actually do something about."

He said nothing, just stared up at her, something indiscernible to her in his eyes.

"... Shit, do I sound like an insane person now?"

"No!" DeMarco bolted upright from where he had been reclined slightly against the grass. "No - no, not at all, Suze," Lifting a hand to her face, he swept her hair to the side, fingers combing through her curls as he leant forward to press his lips to her temple.

Susie wasn't quite certain what had come over her, but the moment he was close enough she reached out, wrapping her arms around him and collapsing against his chest, chin tucked into the crook of his neck. He returned the embrace without a word, sucking in a long breath as he stretched his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight.

"Sorry, I'm like a... fucking basket case who's not very fun to hang out with," She joked, voice muffled against his collar. As she let out a slight huff of laughter, he felt the warmth of her breath against his neck, his body momentarily tensing.

"Susie. I am so uninterested in hanging out with anyone who isn't you."

#masters of the air #fic | better off #bernard demarco x oc #bernard demarco #demarco x susie #mota oc #masters of the air oc #oc: susie #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic

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moonlight-prose · 9 months

Note

In Love With Love weekend! 😍 Could you please do 18. hello/goodbye hugs that linger with Tommy Miller? I love the way you write him. Thanks!

FALLING

a/n: first off thank you thank you thank you!! literally over the moon you like my version of tommy. genuinely i don't know what happened. i started writing and forgot it was supposed to be fluffy, so i went in and added as much fluff as possible. but somehow it still came out slightly angsty. i think it's still pretty soft and well it's the apocalypse so there's bound to be angst. i hope you enjoy it darling!

summary: "a fleeting moment of you being tugged forward and wrapped into the safety of his arms. it ignited something in you. caused your heart to quicken its pace whenever he was around—reminding you of what he felt like so close."

word count: 1.1k+

pairing: tommy miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst due to apocalyptic circumstances, fluff, tommy being smitten, oblivious idiots in love, the romance of a hug.

It started with his smile. The way it lit up something inside of you, drawing out the warmth that hadn’t been there before. That smile hooked you, kept you wanting more, until you could do nothing else but reach out to him. That smile made you smile, made you believe that for a moment…nothing was wrong. The world wasn’t bad, you weren’t alone.

It started with his smile.

But grew into more.

He hugged you the first time as a quick way of saying goodbye. A fleeting moment of you being tugged forward and wrapped into the safety of his arms. It ignited something in you. Caused your heart to quicken its pace whenever he was around—reminding you of what he felt like so close. You could recall replaying the hug over and over in your head after that. Wondering when it would happen again, yet too afraid to initiate it yourself.

That is until he realized you were okay with them.

At first they were small, yet another layer added to your friendship as you both found what it meant to have people close to you. He’d come into your small shop in the town, offer you food or conversation that flowed easier than water in a river, and leave with a hug. And as expected, you’d fall into his arms every time. Craving more even after he walked out, the bell above the door ringing sullenly.

You trudged up the snow covered path towards your small shop—your jacket barely thick enough to keep the cold from Fall out. Winter was a whole different ballpark. You shivered as you tried to open the door, the key slipping slightly—your breath forming a thick cloud in the air.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, trying yet again. But to no avail it seemed you were trapped outside of your own place, the cold seeping in by the second.

“Need some help?”

His voice so close startled you, the key falling from your hand and landing soundlessly on the snow below. Tommy stood behind you, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and cheeks stained red from the cold. He looked like he’d been out working, trying to get the place as settled as possible. Yet somehow he still remained perfect in your eyes. His hair was ruffled, boots and jeans scuffed.

It did nothing but make him more attractive.

“Hi,” you said, your breath blocking him from sight for a few seconds. Long enough for him to bend down and grab the key.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, moving past you slightly to swiftly slip the key in the lock and turn the knob for you. “Figured you knew I was here.”

“How could I when you’re so quiet.”

He chuckled, following you into the place—the door shutting softly behind him. “I’m sorry.”

The light flickered on with a soft buzz, illuminating his face in the soft glow. You wanted to tell him everything on your mind. Let him know how your heart ached for him on days when you were feeling lonely, when the world was too much for you to bear. No one told you how hard surviving was—how you felt the loss of your past life so thoroughly. Yet when you were in his presence, all that pain and suffering faded to the back of your mind.

Until it was just you and him and peace.

“Guess I’ve been in my head a little too much today,” you joked, smiling softly when he shifted on his feet slightly—as if he was nervous to be here.

“We all get like that sometimes.” He wasn’t wrong. “You know you can talk to me right?”

That jerked you out of your melancholy daze. “Tommy…”

“Don’t worry darlin’. Who am I gonna tell your secrets to?”

Heat seeped into your face, spreading up the back of your neck. “I don’t want to burden you with things you can’t fix.”

He stepped closer, half expecting you to step back, but your feet were rooted to the ground. As if you were a part of that deadly fungus, unable to do anything but remain in place and grow—spreading throughout the building. He grinned, his hand reaching forward and brushing against yours. Never clasping it, never moving further, just remaining as far as you’d let him get.

So close yet so far away you felt the familiar ache begin to seep into your heart once more.

“You tellin’ me what’s in your pretty head wouldn’t be a burden.”

If you had the courage, you’d pull him in for a kiss, but you were never brave when it came to romance. Too hesitant of something going drastically wrong. Your heart raced in your chest, the heat from your face down curling low in your stomach. Causing you to fall silent on his request to spill all your secrets to him, all the grief and pain you hold onto.

“I’ll tell you,” you whispered, eyes tracing the shape of his cheekbones. “But not tonight.”

He nodded, his fingers quickly curling around yours before letting go. “I’m here when you’re ready.”

The double entendre of his words wasn’t lost on you and something told you he knew it too. He was going to be there when you were finally ready to take the jump. When you felt okay enough to let him into your heart permanently. Because with Tommy you knew…once he settled into your bones, found his way into your very being, he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. Not when you were as much a part of him as he was you.

So you smiled, gave him a small nod, and allowed him to envelop you in his arms for a goodbye hug. One that lasted longer than either of you intended, but you didn’t want him to leave and he didn’t want to let go. How could he? When you felt so perfect nestled right against his chest—the warmth of your body seeping into his. He smiled, pressing his nose softly into your hair and savoring every second.

“Thank you.” Your voice was muffled into his denim jacket, but you didn’t mind.

He tightened his arms around you before finally letting you go, his hand lingering close to yours. “Anytime darlin’.”

The name ignited something in you, causing a flame to come to life in your chest. Whether you wanted to or not it was clear to you that you were falling in love with him. He gave you another heart stopping smile, nodding slightly before heading towards the door. The path of your future together, now carved out and clear in front of you.

Simply waiting for you to follow it.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller fluff #tommy miller #the last of us #tommy miller fic #my writing #in love with love weekend🌷

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ndoandou · 9 months

Text

Ikevamp bois playing modern games part 2

Vincent

Vincent is way into.. gartic phone

Qnd perhaps skribble.io

Like way into it

He would sit down 12 hours in front of the computer and guess what HES BEEN PLAYING GARTIC PHONE AND SKRIBBLE.IO IN A LOBBY OF RANDOMS

12 HRS IN HES STILL NOT DONE WITH BOTH GAMES

Hed obv speedrun a drawing in a short period of time and manage to make it look *chefs kiss*

Imagine if skribble.io had a vc feature tho

No no, like imagine if people were actually toxic in this goofy ahh game

They would yell down vincent down the mic telling him to go play with photoshop

Randoms are salty that vincent can draw and portray even the most ridicilous prompts which results him with the highest score always

Not to mention hes really good at guessing even the shittiest drawimgs from other ppl

"Broer how- that persons drawing looks ridicilous, even arthur's dog could draw that"

"Don't be mean theo! I could guess the drawing from the emotional connection i felt from it"

Jean

Jean has a shitty brick nokia phone

And he really loves playing snake II

No im serious

Well i suppose momte doesnt trust him with any other phones than that

the last time he was given a smartphone he downloaded some hack and slash game

took the word slash literally and then proceeded to cut the phone into two

comte was too stunned to speak

momte didn’t want his kids to miss out on gadgets but he cant have jean destroying his smartphone

BINGO! a nokia 3310 it is!

jean didnt know how to react at first, but he found it easier to navigate and thats when he found out baout snake II

found it a bit pointless at first but despite saying that, he doesnt realize that thats the only thing he does besids fencing

snake II is his pre workout

the only thing he will be doing before his fencing practice

before meals

and before bed

‘‘jean are you sure you haven’t had enough of snake II..?’‘ comte asked causiously as he never know how his son Jean would react

jean looked at comte and stayed silent for a hot minute

‘‘no’‘

Napoleon

OK FLASH BACK TO MY E BOY NAPOLEON FANART FROM 2021

its official

He plays league of legends

Napoleon is deffo a jungle/top main

Jungle preferabbly

Bros actually cracked coz hed turn any non meta champs into an absolute beast

I see him being especially good with pantheon jungle

Hed play league with jean tbh

And jean would be a dedicated top

But i dont see jean being the best player..

No, like imagine napoleon defending jean from "top troll" and getting spammed "?" On his lane

Napo would literally go to that persons lane just to steal their minion last hits

If hes feeling extra hed even use pantheons ult to yeet over to that player to ks all the minions on that person's lane 😭

"Jgl troll gg"

Ok napo is actually not toxic and is rly nice to play with

Hed even supp for you if ur learning a new champ

Hes only toxic to people who are toxic to his buddies

Comte

Ill be honest

Comte looks like someone who would download all games from every ad pop up he gets

And im talking about anything gacha related

He does not care whether the game is explicit or not as long as he can collect pretty characters

Is he interested in the gameplay??? Probably not.

"For what reason did you spend $$$$$$ on xxx game???" Leonardo asked as he scrolled through comte's in game billings, cocking an eyebrow

"Hm? Well i simply wanted to collect all of these lovely looking characters."

"Without leveling up your characters?"

"Non"

"Do you understand how to play this game?"

Comte only looked at him with his unwavering smile

"honestly this is the most ridicilous spending ive witness from you, heh" Leo snorted

"Much appreciated, but i dont recal asking for any input, old friend" comte retorted

Leo looked at him and sighed

"Honestly at this point i shouldn't be surprised"

This took me forever to upload because i coulndn't figure what type of game comte would play then one day i was like AHAAAAA

Also i didn't proof read as always so pls dont chop my head off :"))

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp jean #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen series #cybird #ikevamp headcanons

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rev-wrath · 2 years

Text

Do It Myself (Or Not)

Batsis!Reader

Prompt: “You’re not going to lose me.”

Summary: Dick comforts his distressed sister.

Notes: Hurt/comfort. Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. 0.9k words.

Warnings: mild self-depreciation

She doesn’t even know why Dick came into her room in the first place. All she knows is that he opened her door while she was in the middle of the breakdown, laptop open as she was surrounded by papers. At first he just stood there then she told him to get out but he didn’t. He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Now she’s crying in her chair as Dick is kneeling beside her.

He glances at everything on the desk. There’s papers that she’s printed, her own writing in the margins, sticky notes everywhere, and her laptop has several things open right now.

Her mumbling draws his attention back to her and as if she can feel it. “I told you to get out.”

“I’m not going to leave my sister here when she’s clearly upset.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing—“ she cuts herself off, because she can’t handle this apparently and that’s why she’s like this right now. “I’m fine.” She repeats instead.

“No you’re not.”

“Well that’s nothing new here.” That’s something they talk about and don’t. Nothing more than the surface level about sleeping and eating, sometimes it’ll be about injuries. Most of the time that’s the case. Sometimes they’ll call it if the whole vigilante thing needs to be held off for a night or so.

Dick says her name softly, his hand twitches but he’s pretty sure she’d rather have just a bit of space now.

“What’s going on?”

“Just leave. I have to figure this out.” She wipes her face before straightening up to get back to work. But Dick can tell she’s not really eager to get back to it.

He stands and closes the laptop. She sternly says his name. Which doesn’t have the intended effect with the glossy eyes and snot remnants. “I have to figure this out so leave.”

“I could help.” He offers. She kind of hates how soft his voice is. Like she should be treated like something that’s fragile and delicate, like she’s weak.

“No! I can do this myself!” She’s too loud for her liking at the moment, glancing at the door, to see if someone would come in. That moment practically tells Dick everything.

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m just saying it would be easier with some help.”

“I can do it myself.” She insists.

“But you don’t have to. It’s okay if you’re having trouble with something.”

“Well if I don’t figure it out myself what does that say about me?” She finally snaps, and the regret settles in immediately. ‘Stupid impulsive girl’, she thinks.

This just confirms Dick’s theory. Once again he says her name, calling her back to him. “No one is going to think any less of you if you need help. We all work together on cases, or even help with homework.” There’s other things too, like helping Cass’ learn how to read and write or teaching Tim a new stretch.

“If I can’t figure out my own stuff then what if something happens and I can’t help with someone else’s? And then I can’t do what I’m supposed to and I mess up out there.” Now that she’s started she can’t stop.“Then Bruce decides, you decide, you all just decide that I’m not worth it anymore and kick me out and leave me alone.” Tears pricking in the corner of her eyes.

Dick hugs her, pulling her into his arms. Despite this she keeps going, this time at a whisper. “Then I’m going to lose all of this. I’m going to lose the only family and home I’ve ever known. Because I was weak and stupid.”

“You’re not going to lose me. You’re not going to lose Bruce, or Jason, or Tim, or any of us. You’re not going to lose your home or your family. You’re family, okay? You’re family because we choose to be, because we are and we love each other.”

She cries in his arms, holding on tightly. “But, but why? Why do all of that when I’m,” she struggles with her breathing for a second. Dick doesn’t let her continue, talking again in that moment.

“You’re incredible, okay? You’re as every bit as smart and brave and amazing and strong as anyone else in this family. Sometimes even more, because we’re all idiots sometimes. But you’re you and that’s all you need to be. At least with us.” He needs to be a bit realistic to get through to her, to get her to believe him.

She sucks in a breath. “Okay. Okay.” Pressing against his chest, she still doesn’t feel okay, she doesn’t quite believe him but it’s much more tiring to argue, even with herself.

“And it’s okay to need help. If you’re struggling with something, with anything. We all need help sometimes. We’re a team, all of us. Always. Even if we don’t get along or agree all the time.” She simply nods, not feeling like properly responding.

“Do you want me to stay?” Dick asks softly.

“Please.” She whispers back.

He holds her close. “Sleep. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll all be here when you wake up tomorrow.”

“I love you.” She mumbles into his shirt before shutting her eyes.

“Love you too sis.”

Dick might have to talk about this to her again. She’ll probably have to talk about it with some of the others. But that’s okay, because that just means that they really aren’t going anywhere or leaving her.

#batsis!reader #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #batfamily x batsis #batfam x reader imagines #dc #read reed

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the-therapist-needs-therapy · 10 months

Text

As Seasons Pass

Pairing : Hansol x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst

Warnings : Mentions of character death

Where you realize that moving on from someone is like the changing of seasons.

At the start of winter, you and Mingyu finally graduate from college. Something you both had been waiting for ever since you started dating. It was time to figure out everything else in life, most importantly your futures together.

The said last day before spring, Mingyu had you pressed against his room door, both of you sharing feverish kisses, without a worry about anything else. Mingyu's eyes pierce into yours as he whispers a 'I love you' and it's enough to make your heart burst into butterflies. You chastely press your lips against his, mumbling the phrase back.

A month after spring had started and flowers of different colours started to bloom, the news of your boyfriend's death has you breaking into a hysteria of tears, sobbing uncontrollably in the arms of your best friend, Hansol. He says nothing but gives you reassuring pats and draws patterns on your backs because they seem to make you feel better. After that day, Hansol becomes your source of comfort and you find yourself at his place everyday, slowly trying your best to move on from the boyfriend you had loved so much.

At the end of spring, you're at Hansol's threshold, once again in his arms as you cry your heart and eyes out. 'It's okay, Y/n,' he says, 'It's really okay'. You look up at him, your eyes tinted red, 'It's not okay. I'm pregnant, Hansol. And with his child. When I thought I was finally over him'. 'Will I be a good mother? How am I supposed to raise another life when I can't even control my own emotions?'. He mumbles comforting words into your head, seeming to be drowned in his own thoughts. Finally deciding something, he looks into your eyes and confidentially says, 'I'll help you raise the kid, Y/n'.

In autumn, you and Hansol go dress-shopping for yourself and the baby which was due at the beginning of winter. You didn't know what to say when he placed the offer to take care of your child but he proved you that he was serious in multiple occasions where he took care of you, from clinical visits to buying you food according to your cravings. You had sold your apartment and permanently moved to his place as Hansol thought that it would be easier to take care of you that way. He was in a good job and it paid him well enough to support himself and you comfortably. Both of you still hadn't labelled the relationship you shared but you decided to not think about it, fully focusing on welcoming the life you were carrying. You link your hands with Hansol's as you giggle about cute jumpsuits, going on with the flow of the present.

As the first snowflake falls onto the ground, Kim Gyeol-Wool was born. You were hesitant about making her surname 'Kim' but Hansol insisted that you should as Gyeol-Wool was Mingyu's kid. Moreover, she looked exactly like Mingyu which almost made you tear up when you held her for the first time. Hansol reminds you that it was good that she looked like him so that there would always be a part of him in the living world. The familiar smile on the sleeping baby was now proof for that.

The next summer, Gyeol-Wool's first word was 'papa' and Hansol had almost chokes with happiness because he was the one who had her in his arms at the time. He looks at you with worried eyes, silently asking if you were okay with it. You laugh, saying, 'You're the father now, Sol', which tugs a smile on his face. That's when he kisses you for the first time. The feeling of his lips on yours made your heart melt to your feet.

Three summers later, Gyeol-Wool asks you why you had named her that. You sit next to her, grabbing her small hands in yours, looking into her curiosity-filled eyes. As she grew up, she started taking Mingyu's features more than yours, something you and Hansol had realized on the day she was born. The little girl was the owner of both yours and Hansol's stored love and care. 'It's because you were born in winter and it's the season when your father and I met for the first time,' you say and Gyeol-Wool smiles. You realize that you meant the 'your father' as Hansol. You still remember the day because you two were just innocent kids playing in the snow and look where life had brought you.

That autumn, you and Hansol officially get married. It was kind of expected. He knew that you were meant to end up together the first time Gyeol-Wool called him 'papa'. That moment he realized that he was going to spend the rest of his years with you and her. You almost cried out of joy when he pulled a ring out of his pocket during one of the evenings you spent in the park with Gyeol-Wool. Somewhere along the way, you had realized that you were in love with Hansol too. It was hard not to be so when he kissed you every night and took care of your daughter like his own. The wedding was everything you could have imagined because you had the people you loved the most by your side.

The next spring, you announce your pregnancy to Hansol and Gyeol-Wool with a grin on your face. Gyeol-Wool was super excited for the arrival of her sibling. Hansol was already thinking about buying a bigger house to home all of you. Your heart swells in happiness when you see Gyeol-Wool giggling with Hansol. He wasn't her real father but she was closer to him more than she was with you. That made you fall in love with Hansol all over again.

That winter, you welcome Chwe Hajoon into the family. The young boy had his father's eyes and your smile. Gyeol-Wool was the happiest, constantly squealing when her brother did something cute. Hansol holds your hand as you smile at the innocent adorableness of the siblings. You had also adopted a cat because Gyeol-Wool had always wanted one. With it's sparkly eyes, it soon won the hearts of everyone in the family, specifically Hansol who wouldn't stop carrying it.

The next spring, on Mingyu's fourth year death anniversary, you visit his grave with Hansol, Gyeol-Wool and Hajoon. Hansol had Hajoon in his arms and Gweol-Wool was stand by him when he silently mouths, 'You should go alone'. You kneel in front of his grave and speak, 'It's been a while, Mingyu. I have a son now. His name is Hajoon. He looks a lot like Hansol. Gyeol-Wool is doing great as well. She's going to be a heart-breaker when she grows up. Like father like daughter,' you laugh at your own joke before continuing, 'Hansol takes care of me like a queen. He loves me and the kids to death. Overall, I'm doing great'. 'Once upon a time, I wished it was you and me in the end but I guess things don't go the way we want them to. It was hard to move on from you but as seasons pass I realized one thing. Spring's flowers fall, summer loses its warmth, autumn says goodbye to its colours and winter's snow melts. I can't be holding on to something in the past just because I cherish it so much. As the seasons passed, I fell in love with Hansol. I'm happy now and I know that you'll be happy for me too,' you place the bouquet of roses on his grave and take a deep breath before you get up, 'Thank you for the happy memories, Mingyu. I'll always cherish them'. You take a final look at the grave and walk back to Hansol, giving him a appreciative smile. If it wasn't for him, who knows where you might have been. As you take Hajoon from Hansol, you walk back to the car, Hansol having an arm around your shoulder while Gyeol-Wool grabs your hand. After so many changes in the seasons, you were finally enjoying everything.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ- ↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

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