#like it’s described as SANDY which is a light brown/blonde

[bethisblogging]

So I’ve had w*lfst*r muted on my tumblr dash as long as we’ve been able to. But on my Instagram guess who just got a “suggested” post of the pair??? Fucking why????

#the worst part is that I couldn’t tell what couple it was at first #because they gave Remus very red hair????? #like it’s described as SANDY which is a light brown/blonde #and like idk but they didn’t have any features that helped me know who the characters were until I read the description #and idk that’s fine. but not for me

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

New Girl [00]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

(slow burn, endgame, as in you’ll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)

MODERN DAY AU

Word count: 1,564

Summary: Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on your long term boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasn’t you. Since living with him was no longer an option, you’ve ventured out at the advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to reside in. The only issue?

You suddenly have four very odd roommates.

a/n: a long time ago i mentally cast jensen ackles as disaster clint barton in my head and have not shook it since which is why his picture is used above👍🏼

[00]: WELCOME HOME

Chapter Summary: You find a new place to live. Your friend mentioned all the amenities, but left out a very important detail.

The loft was absolutely gorgeous. It had an industrial feel to it thanks to the brick walls and metal beams running across the ceiling. Despite that, the warm light streaming through the multitude of windows gave it a soft vibe. From where you sat on the recliner you could see a small, open kitchen that sat right across from a large dining area all of which was behind the large, ‘u-shaped’ couch. Honestly, the moment you stepped through the door your brain immediately decided that this is where you wanted to live.

However, there was one little flaw you didn’t foresee when you showed up for the interview/tour.

“So, you guys…are guys.” You said slowly. You laced your fingers together and rested them on your knee awkwardly. In front of you sat four men. Very manly men, actually. Enough so that you weren’t sure why your co-worker would think sending you here to live would be a good idea. Scott Lang had mentioned the open room and the great location, but he had left out this huge detail.

“Yes. Good eye for detail.” The man who introduced himself as Bucky Barnes said dryly. He sat at the far end of the couch in front of you on the left side. He had short, dark hair that kind of looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and scruff all along his defined jaw. His stormy eyes looked exhausted, his lips looked downturned into a perpetual frown, and it made you mildly curious since it was literally one in the afternoon and he was nearly dead on his feet.

“I know it’s hard for you to not be a dick, but maybe you can, I don’t know, try?” Sam Wilson, if you remembered his name correctly, replied to him from the entire other end of the couch. The black man had his arms crossed over his chest with a raised eyebrow, but there was nothing but amusement in his brown eyes. Unlike the first man that spoke, this one was dressed in much nicer clothes. A button up shirt and khakis.

You opened your mouth to cut in, but another one of them spoke up first. He sat next to the man who had just spoken, “Quick question, are you single?” You knew his name was Peter but you couldn’t remember what his last name was only that it started with a ‘Q’.  He had an impish smirk with sandy blond hair that could only be described as purposely messy. He had a sort of goatee that was mostly just stubble. There was a leather jacket resting on the couch behind him that he had taken off when you first walked in to reveal the tight, gray shirt he wore. “I think it’s the question all of us want answered, right?”

All the men chorused solid disagreements, but it was the man beside him that spoke directly to you. This was the only one who hadn’t actually introduced himself to you. He had come in a couple minutes ago, dropped down on the couch, and then just joined in. You had mentally been referring to him as ‘hot mess’. He had like three bandages on his face, his lip was busted, and he had a fading black eye. His blond hair was also messy, but definitely not in a styled way. More like a ‘I haven’t touched a comb since I was 12’ kind of way. He motioned to you, “Ignore him, the real question we have for you is: Do you have any pets and when can you move in?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “We vote before we ask someone to move in. Loft agreement.”

Hot mess spoke again, “Well then let’s—”

“Wait,” You held one hand out and eyes snapped back to you. “Scott told me this was a four-bedroom place, and that you guys were looking for someone to fill a room but…there are already four of you?”

Peter half-heartedly motioned to Bucky and Sam, “These two share a room.”

“Oh!” You bobbed your head with a smile as you motioned to them, “So you guys are a couple?”

“No!” Bucky and Sam both yelled loudly making you jump in shock. They immediately turned and began to bicker with one another.

“Why’re you saying no so fast, man?? I’m a fucking catch.” Sam argued.

“You said no just as quick as I did!”

“Yeah, because I can do a hell of a lot better than a maybe alcoholic still mourning the loss of his psycho ex.”

Bucky sat forward to glare at him, “We are not having this argument again.”

As they continued to yell at one another, while you watched on awkwardly, Peter focused on you with a charming smirk, “They have bunk beds.”

“Bunk… beds?” You questioned skeptically.

“No, no, no.” Sam cut in quickly. He gave up on his argument with Bucky to clarify this. “It’s two very separate beds, on opposite sides of the room. See, I lost a bet so now I’m stuck with his ass—”

“You lost the bet? I lost the bet and now I’m stuck with you.” Bucky argued back.

Hot mess shook his head, “They both lost the bet and now they bunk together like camp buddies.” The two men in question grumbled unhappily. “Also, we’re all super broke so we need someone in the empty room who has a consistent paycheck.” As if to clarify further, he pointed down the couch starting with Bucky, “Bartender at a sketch ass place, in an unknown band, and therapist.”

Sam held one hand up, “I’m the only one with an actual paycheck.”

“I have a paycheck!” Bucky argued.

“And my band is not unknown.” Peter scoffed. “The Guardians have a gig this Thursday!”

Hot mess grinned, “And where are you playing?”

“A Korean restaurant where old men play card game and chain smoke.” Peter mumbled.

You cleared your throat and tried to get this conversation back on track, “You didn’t tell me what your job is. Or your name.”

“Oh, I’m Clint Barton!” He quickly stood up and offered his hand to you. You smiled and took his hand to shake it then he sat back down. “And my job changes depending on the week.”

You bobbed your head once with confused, narrowed eyes, “I, uh, I don’t know what that means.”

Bucky shook his own head, “Neither do we.”

“Well,” You took in a steadying breath, “Like I said before, my name is [Y/N]. And, I actually do have a steady paycheck.” You motioned to yourself. “I work for a modeling agency—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Peter threw his arms out to interrupt, “You’re a model??”

“Uh, no.” You chuckled awkwardly. “I’m more like a manager? Book gigs, manage contracts, help them on set…” There was a pause where they all just stared at you with blank looks. Peter was the only one actively gawking though. You filled the silence with the first thing your brain thought of, “It’s fun! My best friend from high school actually works there as a model so it’s a lot of us just…goofing off? Uh… I don’t have any pets—”

“Meeting!” Peter barked and stood up. He gave you a charismatic smile, “Just give us a couple minutes.” The others stood up with less enthusiasm and began to march out of the room, down the hall. Peter gave you a nod, briefly biting down on his lower lip, bounced his eyebrows up once, then winked at you, “Don’t miss me too much, alright baby?”

Bucky stopped at the mouth of the hall with a frown, and when Peter tried to walk into the hallway he threw his hand out to stop him. Peter complained as Bucky shoved him back then pointed to the short shelf sitting behind the couch. There was a glass jar sitting on it with a pink sticky note taped to the outside that read, ‘Douchebag Jar’ in messy handwriting.

“Jar. Now.”

“That wasn’t even so bad!” Peter argued before pulling a dollar bill out of his pocket and shoving it into the jar. The two of them left to wherever the other two had and suddenly you were left alone in the pretty apartment. Without the yelling boys, the loft became more and more tempting.

You drummed your fingers against your thighs nervously. This was a weird situation and at your age you weren’t really looking to live in a loft downtown with four strange men, emphasis on strange, but you didn’t really have another choice. Your job paid well, but you had lost a lot of money after buying a house with your long-term boyfriend. It seemed like a great idea at the time considering the two of you were coming up on three years together, but when you walked in on him making out with a girl sitting in his lap the great idea died really fast. You didn’t get that money back and honestly you didn’t even try to get possession of the house. You just wanted to be out of his life. Regardless of the cost.

Clint ‘hot mess’ Barton suddenly slid back into the room on his socks making you jump in surprise. He threw his hand out broadly as the others came in as well, “Welcome home, roomie!”

You jumped up in excitement, “Really? You guys aren’t going to regret this!”

#avengers #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes is nick miller #you can't convince me otherwise #sam wilson #clint barton #peter quill #reader #female reader #reader insert #modern au

[writernopal]

Happy (late) STS! How much do you describe your characters? Do you leave their appearance intentionally vague or go into intricate detail? Something in between? As a bonus, how is your MC(s) described? You can share an excerpt or just otherwise describe!

Happy late STS, Karkki!

How much do you describe your characters? Do you leave their appearance intentionally vague or go into intricate detail? Something in between?

So I'm quite bad at this lol. I struggle to imagine faces or body types so they might have one or two defining features and that's it. So I'll say oh, this character is old, or they have blonde hair, or they have a crooked nose and nothing more haha. For me it's more about their personality, aura, and vibes so physical description is really only mentioned when it complements one of those things and is relevant to that part of the story. They're literally just little blobs to me. It's part of why I commissioned art for the main cast because one day I was like okay, I need to really figure out how these guys look lol.

As a bonus, how is your MC(s) described? You can share an excerpt or just otherwise describe!

Okay I am going to add excerpts here because I'm quite proud of them!

Mariel

I gave the room another pass when my body tightened nervously, and the breath departed my chest. Just along the back wall was a short human woman, adjusting a sheer pink shawl over her shoulders. Her hair, a soft sandy brown. Her skin, a pale olive color. And her waist…yes, small and pinched. Could it be…Miss Frère? No, it couldn’t be... She flipped her fan open and turned to look in my direction. My heart pounded hard in my chest. If it was her— No. No. It couldn’t be. I waited, like a fish gasping for life on the end of a fisherman’s hook, as her eyes lifted to meet mine. Through her lashes, I spotted a pale blue color, not at all like the gentle and warm almond of Miss Frère’s. And her face was all wrong too. Her features were too handsome. Miss Frère wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but her face was not…well, it just wasn’t like that. She had a softness to her as if she were always being seen through fogged glass. One’s eyes could easily roll back and forth across the gentle slope of her cheeks and the tiny bow of her lips.

Axtapor

His lavender scales were lit beautifully by the low firelight in my tent and seemed to have a sheen to them of the most lovely violet. He was dressed as one might normally find him—in well-fitted trousers, a loose shirt, and a coat. Many trinkets dangled from him, though he seemed completely unarmed and his eyes, which I had only seen to hold ferocity, looked almost tender, making the whole of him appear dashing... But he, by contrast, looked to be handsomely carved of marble by some forgotten master. There was something easy about taking in his features… And the light in this place seemed to agree as it reveled upon the high points of his face and the shadows seemed to melt and fall asleep comfortably in his contours. At this distance, I could observe his eyes more closely than I’d ever had the chance to, and despite being the eyes of a predator, they were altogether enrapturing. He blinked, and a series of thin white eyelids moved under his outer one to perfectly frame the smoke-gray eye within them. His pupil was a vertical one with a thin ring of bronzy yellow just around it, and in their dark reflection, I could see myself.

Fay

She was leaning against one of the masts and somehow managed to look imposing and enchanting at the same time. Her face was long and elegant, each feature upon it well-defined and distinguished. Her eyes were a golden color that stood out against her skin and hair; both appeared the color of rain-dampened soil, rich and dark. There was something about how the very rigid quality of her nose contrasted with the easy nature of the waves in her hair that almost seemed like she could be nobility, but the rest of her told a different story.  She was tall for a human woman, probably standing close to six feet, and was lean-looking in build. She had no overt fullness anywhere, though that was not to say that she had no curves to mark her shape out, just that even with them, she appeared more like a racing dog or a wildcat. She was not armed from what I could see, but I took no comfort in that notion; she was plenty dangerous even without such implements. I gathered her to be a witch, as they were the only regular practitioners of rune inscription I knew of, and given our previous encounter, it was something she was clearly well versed in. Though now that I looked at her more closely, her fingers seemed to be blackened on the ends, and the nails upon them were long and sharp-looking. A sign that she wasn’t just any witch but one that practiced the dark arts.

Wilkes

His scales had become almost translucent but still managed to capture the light like some finely cut gem, and just underneath, I could see millions of tiny red veins chasing after one another. Even his eyes seemed to be alight with more fire than usual, smoldering like his own pair of setting suns. The opalescent sheen of his scales, the sealike swell of his sloped horns, and the feathery mane upon his head, all of him was beautiful as if he had been born for the sole purpose of being admired. And what wasn’t his by nature felt alive with his spirit all the same, for that ruby upon his forehead even thrummed with the frantic life of a third eye.

#thanks for the ask! #nopal answers #aasoaf #mariel #axtapor #fay #wilkes #sts #my writing

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Oof. Honestly, the idea that "poor = being a person of color" is ironically an argument that sounds even more racist than what you're arguing for.

Anyway, District 12 is set in the Appalachians, which if my source is to be trusted, is 82% white, with most of its miners also being white. Obviously that doesn't mean Katniss has to be white, especially in a fantasy setting way into the future, but I don't think it's entirely unfounded to take that into account.

And, yeah, like you said, olive skin is really wholly unremarkable lol. I know quite a few people with olive skin who are about as Caucasian as you can be.

So, personally, I really don't believe Katniss was whitewashed since she's inarguably described in the books as olive skinned, which isn't an uncommon skintone for white people, and definitely has a white mother and sister. Just as Rue is inarguably black, as she was described (iirc) as having dark brown skin and eyes. It seems strange to me for people to upset about either of those things in the films when they're canon lol.

Lol? It's not racist to say that communities of color are somewhat likely to be poor or more disenfranchised/not at equal standing with white communities. It's a plain fact, and I would know, being a person of color and having lived the literal things I speak about. Poor does not equal people of color. Do not put words in my mouth. Okay? And? The setting is in the distant future, and the events of the series take place nearly a century after a traumatic and horrific war. The idea that that the once-called Appalachians would have retained their racial topography to such a degree is debatable. The author drew from the Vietnam war and the peoples affected by it, to think that every single one of her main characters in a trilogy critiquing war and showing revolution from oppressed minorities is white, is ridiculous. Yes, Katniss and others have olive skin, a wide descriptor as it is, but the way the olive skin and Katniss' and the others' given physical traits are described and presented in contrast with with canonical white characters shows that they are intended to be not white. Just as Rue is infutably black, it should be plain that Katniss and the others are not white. At least to anyone who can read, or at least read without bias. The films miscast Katniss, Gale, and Haymitch especially, (canonically he has grey hair and dark eyes, and in the films he is a blue-eyed blond.) Rue, who you say yourself has dark skin and eyes was played by a light-skinned actress, and they initially wanted Katniss to be a sandy blonde. In the books, they are canonically poc, what the films think are canonical means jackshit to me. What you think also matters jackshit me. If you personally want to see Katniss and Co. as white, do so if it makes you happy. I honestly don't care, I'm just explaining the facts, since you brought it up. But I'm not speaking out of my ass, there are other people who agree with me, have spoken about how Katniss is a poc, the social-economic class divide and racial aspects/ of the seam vs merchant class, and all that good stuff and have also explained how and why this is true. But if you think me saying that communities of color can often be at a social disadvantage is "racist", I doubt you'd be able to handle a talk about that, lol.

#thg #the hunger games #thg meta #thg fandom #the everlark fandom #the evercult #why tf are you going to ask my opinion and then spend so much time bitching about how you personally think I'm wrong #like?

[astrabear]

I am begging, begging TOG fic writers to actually look at the movie and the actors. Or, you know, don't, if you really don't want to. There's no reason you should care if I'm screaming internally.

I've posted before about the heights of the various actors (with a handy graph, even). I've posted about how Joe is not actually that much darker-skinned than Nicky, and the replies pointed out that Quynh is not darker-skinned than Andy. "Nicky has blond/light brown/sandy hair is a mystery I will never understand, so I don't tend to say much about it.

The latest "I was fine until I wasn't fine anymore and now I've snapped" is the insistence on describing Nicky as if he's from Northern Europe rather than the Mediterranean. Oh, Nicky's so pale, Nicky can't tan, Nicky burns easily, it's so obvious when he blushes, pale pale pale, Golden Joe and Pale Nicky.

It's true that he looks quite pale in the Merrick scenes, because that's an office building/lab with harsh lighting.

Joe doesn't look great in that lighting either. But then there's scenes like this:

(Sorry, I got distracted. I could watch that hug, with Joe grinning in the background, forever.)

Where was I? Right. Nicky is white, but "white" encompasses a range of skin tones and types. I read a description just now that was... I won't quote it, but it completely threw me out of the story. And my reading experience doesn't have to be anyone else's priority, which is why I am begging rather than commanding. Please look.

#I have also complained about describing his eyes as seaglass #when seaglass isn't a specific color #and is most commonly white or brown #but that's a level of pedantry that no one else should stoop to #this is slightly less ridiculous I think

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Reaper and the Death Angel Prologue

In this post I announced two new series, this is the Jax x Reader one. It borrows heavily from the TV show Bones and characters for The Punisher. It will also take a lot of plots for these two posts 1 2

Series Masterlist

Warnings: The reader's Brother is described, but it won't have any impact on the reader's appearance (I don't want to spoil more). This is a Clay hate blog and it shows right away, a one sentence reference to sex offenders.

626 Words

Comment if you want to be tagged in this series.

You've spent most of your adult life in and out of war zones, and you've worked with the US military to identify terrorist and dead GIs. Sick of all the death and pain you chose to leave fieldwork and go back to historical research. When your little Brother leaves the Marines and settles in a small town, you decide to follow him. Will you find a home in your small, underfunded Musume job and your Brother's found family? Or will life with the Club just be another war zone?

"The new guy is starting today right?" Jax's voice moved across the garage into the office.

"Yeah, Samuel y/l/n. He should be alright if his references are anything to go by."

*************

The new guy was huge, big, tall, and board with biceps the size of tree trunks. He had sandy blond/brown hair cut into the traditional high and tight of the Marines. Light brown eyes and skin tanned from years in the Sun. He seemed overly zipped up, like the sky could start falling and he'd just shrug and find a way to fix it.

"You don't talk much do you?" Clay's voice was short and judgemental.

"I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea is all." Sam was still filling out paperwork when Clay spoke, he had only been there half a day and hadn't had time to get to know anyone.

Not a good sign

"Do you ride?" Jax's tone was neutral.

"Yeah, I've got a 1939 El Knucklehead at home."

"Shit, man! How did you come by that?" The garage had suddenly gone quiet. Tig was still starting with his mouth open.

"My older Sister y/n got it for me as a gift for finishing basic training."

More silence, and then Clay pipped in again.

"Some Sister, huh?"

Sam started shaking his head.

"Not really, she hates them with a passion, calls them 'machines of death and skin graphs'. The day after I got it she made me attend an autopsy of a guy who had laid his bike down after speeding without a helmet. Then she told me if she ever caught me without a helmet breaking or the road rules, she would give my organs to someone who actually cared about them"

"That's a bit harsh" ok, he really didn't like Clay.

"Not no bit, she just wanted to make sure I was mature enough to undersand the risks I was taking. She's always been very.... adult."

Clay seemed to accept his response, however he could tell that if you and Clay ever met, it would be icy at best.

"Wait, how did she get you into the morgue?" Juice was fast demonstrating he was the smart one.

"She's a forensic anthropologist." Sam was careful not to give too much away, you were a private person.

"Which is?"

Google it old man.

"She uses someone's bones to identify them and how they died if their bodies are too damage or decomposed to identify them by normal means."

Tig chimed in.

"That sounds fun."

A few days earlier

"Are you excited for your new job?" Sam could hear the occasional bang of gunshots over your voice.

"I guess so, why don't you tell me how your background check turned out?" his tone was affectionate but accusatory.

"Ok, they're clearly into some shady shit. But no sex offences or domestic violence convictions, not that the paperwork is anything to go by."

Crack

"Sorry about that, our mercenary babysitters don't really know what they're doing."

Sam wasn't worried, if he worried about you when you were overseas, he would never stop.

"One Mr Clarence 'Clay' Morrow and a Mr Piermont 'Piney' Winston served in the Corp in Nam, and one Mr Filip 'Chibs' Telford was in Ireland during The Troubles, no other former service members."

So the K-Bar on Jax's hip wasn't his.

"That's about it. I want you to make your own mind up about them so I'm not giving you anymore details."

Sam huffed.

"You can be very frustrating sometimes, you have the knowledge of everyone's shady dealings at your fingertips and you choose to use your power responsibility?"

"Yes, Sam. Make sure you iron your shirt when you go in, you want to make a good first impression.

Part 1

I hate this so far but it's going to take a while to develop the story I'm really sorry if the dialogue feels stilted.

#jax teller x oc #fluff #sons of anarchy #jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #samcrow #soa #sons of anarchy imagine #jax teller

[pascalpanic]

Begin Again (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Inspo: Begin Again by Adam Melchor

Summary: Dating apps never pair you with the right people. Until you come across the profile of a handsome, pancake loving FBI agent named Marcus.

W/C: 4.8k

Warnings: lots of talk of food, language, late night deep conversations, some sadness at the end but nothing intense? reader has a pet cat, is that worth a warning? idk

A/N: HI GUYS this is my first full length Marcus Pike fic! I really hope you like it!! thank you so much to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for being my best editors and proofreaders and idea givers!!!

note: PLS listen to the song before/after/while reading! it’s one of my favs and it really goes along with the story

Over the course of your adult years, you’ve become convinced that dating apps are complete and utter bullshit. The algorithms never work right, never pair you or any of your friends with anyone worth seeing in person. Maybe that’s just the problem; maybe it’s not the apps but the people. Whatever the answer is, whatever reason you’ve never found success in the endless swiping, you’re through with it.

That was before last week. The rainy Tuesday night left you in your apartment, alone, to succumb to the cold spring dreariness. Over a cup of hot tea, you’d downloaded the app again. Might as well try, right? You have nothing to lose. If worst comes to worst, catfishing an annoying guy is always a blast. The good news is that this app requires you as the woman to make the first move. That’s kind of a downside- you never know how to start conversations- but at least you can’t get unsolicited dick pics right off the bats. Life is full of tradeoffs, you suppose.

You begin again. The app becomes your favorite pastime. Bored at work or home? Dating app it is. Left. Left. Left. Boring man after boring man. One labeled himself super-straight: absolutely fucking not. One holding a fish: nope. A man who describes himself as a gym rat: not your type. It’s a boring way to spend your lunch break, you’re aware, but the entertainment value is fun if nothing else. There are a lot of strange men out there.

After a few days, your luck seems to turn around as the photo of a man with brown hair and warm brown eyes pops up on your screen. He has a scruffy beard and wavy hair, and the way his smile tugs at the corner of his lips makes your heart flutter. He’s really cute, you have to admit. You read the bio next.

Marcus, 35

❗️ Washington, D.C.

Got forced into making this, but optimistic. Lover of art, dogs, and time to relax. Always down for breakfast for dinner and cuddling. Looking for someone with a sense of independence, love of travel, and a sleep schedule equally fucked up as mine. Must love pancakes.

Must love pancakes. That’s absolutely adorable. You immediately think of your cat, named Pancake, and you laugh and swipe right, hoping the man already thought the same of you. Your eyes widen with excitement and you almost laugh out loud from your giddy state when you see the little logo indicating it’s a match.

The first message you send him has to be perfect. You ponder your options for a minute, frowning and furrowing your brow as you think. You don’t want to come on too strong; you’re not trying to sound like you want a hookup. A simple one-word greeting wouldn’t be enough.

You could comment on something from his bio, you realize as you read it again and again. Maybe ask him about his dog? No, that’s too awkward. You want it to be about him, something that can draw him in. Talk about traveling? No, you don’t want to sound like you’re bragging about the places you’ve gone in your life.

Pancakes. Pancakes are good. You love pancakes. You think for a second more, debating what to say, before inspiration strikes and you send off the message before you can stop yourself.

-

Marcus Pike has essentially felt the same as you. He’s a somewhat charming man. He’s had his fair share of relationships, but they never quite work out. His ex-wife, now long gone and blocked from his phone, was an absolute failure of a relationship. He’d gotten close to what felt like true love with Teresa, another FBI agent, but she flaked at the last second.

Maybe the constant here was that he met them in person. When Marcus falls, he falls hard and fast, down an endless spiral of emotions with no escape. Maybe if he met someone online, it would be different. His best friends had all encouraged it, and on a night out not long after Teresa left him, Pike set up his own profile. He liked that the app didn’t require him to make the first move. It’s refreshing.

Marcus had seen your profile hours ago, on a mindless phone break from his work. He’d swiped right too, stunned by your smile and the lovelines you radiated even through the phone. He crossed his fingers for a good part of the day, hoping you’d swipe right on him too.

His day is busy, leaving him no time to fiddle with his phone and distract himself. He eats in the cafeteria, checking up on his phone. After lunch, he’s walking back to his office when his heart flutters as he sees the dating app indicates he’s had a match. He looks at it and swallows hard before stopping, moving to the side of the hallway to allow others to pass. He’s breathing hard, and his heart speeds up when he sees that you are the one that matched with him.

He knows how this app works. He has to wait now, to let you make the first move. He can’t even write a message until you send one. So he pockets his phone again and continues on his walk.

He’s determined on his walk, rushing back to his desk so he can sit and be thoroughly enthralled in waiting for or receiving your response. His phone buzzes several times with notifications, one of which he prays is you. When he finally sits, he opens the app ceremoniously and has to hold back a genuine laugh when he sees your first message.

Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus shoots back a text nearly immediately. Sorry, what?

Your bio. “Must love pancakes”. Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus is absolutely beaming as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. Blueberry. Always. I hope that’s the right answer :)

Unfortunately, it’s not, but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide

You called him cute. It makes Marcus’s heart flutter. Come on. There’s nothing like the warm blueberry popping in your mouth.

There is. It’s when the chocolate chips are all melty and creamy.

God, Marcus is already painfully into you. You know what… at least you love pancakes. I’ll let it slide. You got a favorite place?

Anywhere I can get ‘em. You seem like quite the connoisseur, do you have one place in mind?

Jane slams down a stack of files on Marcus’s desk. “Paperwork overflow, Pike. Can you get these done tonight?”

Marcus is the fastest in the office with paperwork, which often leads to him being the one that flies through the files in the place of the people who actually filed it. He nods. What else is there to do? “Sure.”

Jane claps him on the shoulder and wanders off. Marcus watches him in slight annoyance. The best place in D.C. is definitely Sandy’s. Hey I gotta go, text ya later?

I’d love that :)

-

It didn’t take long for your texting to move from the dating app to actual texting. It happened within the same day, in fact.

Marcus messaged you some hours after the initial conversation. Your phone buzzed while you were doing yoga in your apartment, your cat curled into a ball beneath your stomach as you held a downward dog. You nearly collapsed on top of Pancake as you fumbled to sit cross-legged on the end of your yoga mat.

The message from Marcus is bright on the top of your screen. Hi. Sorry that took so long. Work stuff.

Smiling, you take a swig from your water bottle and lean back against your couch. Not a problem. Understandable. What do you do for a living? It’s a loaded question in D.C.; they could range anywhere from politicians to their rich sons to artists and athletes.

I work for the FBI, actually.

Your eyes light up in excitement. That’s the coolest shit I’ve heard. What do you do? Are you an agent?

The man’s responses don’t take long at all. He must be waiting in the chat to respond. The idea makes your heart flutter. Yep, I’m an agent. I work in international art crimes.

You certainly didn’t expect that for an answer. Wow, okay, that’s even cooler than I thought. I was about to call you Agent Pancake but I think my girl would be disheartened...

Snapping a photo of the way Pancake is nuzzling into your side, meowing for snuggles, you have to laugh as you send the photo his way. Funny you love pancakes so much. This little muppet is named Pancake.

Marcus responds with a barrage of heart-eyes emojis, which makes you laugh aloud and scoop Pancake into your lap, stroking her strawberry-blonde fluff. She’s an absolute angel. Like her mother, I’m presuming.

Your cheeks flood with warmth and you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot too. You’ve never even met me, Agent…? You trail off the text, asking for his last name.

Pike.

Agent Marcus Pike. What a nice sounding name. It sounds official and strong and you really like it. Cute last name. Might steal it from ya someday ;)

You don’t normally flirt this shamelessly, but he’s so goddamn cute and funny. You cross your fingers behind your back that this isn’t just a facade, that this is Marcus himself texting like he would to anyone else. You got a phone number?

As you laugh, Pancake paws at your chest to grab your attention, nails nearly digging into the stretchy fabric of your yoga tank top. “Watch it,” you scold her softly and remove her paw from your chest, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the head. Sure do. You want it?

Yes please.

You send your number his way and moments later, your phone pings with a text from an unlabeled number.

Maybe: Pike: hey, it’s Pike :)

You: hey… dammit, I really want to call you Agent Pancakes, but I think my fluffy little heathen would be offended. I don’t know what to save you in my phone as...

Agent Pancakes: Save me as whatever, I suppose. Not my problem, right?

-

The texts became more frequent. Over the course of three weeks, you’d stay up late talking like teenagers, knowing you need to go to bed but unable to bring yourself to do it.

You learned that his middle name was Mauricio, that his mother wanted him to have at least something a little more Latino in his name. You told him the story of how you’d adopted Pancake as a kitten from a shelter and she woke you up one morning with her claws entwined in a snarl of your hair. He told you about his ex-wife and ex-fiancée, Teresa, and you responded that he deserved something better than that. You can already tell that he’s a good man.

At the end of three weeks, you shot Marcus a text. Things seemed to be going pretty well.

You: Hey, you want to do a video call sometime soon?

Agent Pancakes: I’d love that! I’m free tonight if you are.

You: Always free. Shouldn’t you know that?? Doesn’t the FBI spy on us through our phones and whatever?

Agent Pancakes: well, I do work in art crimes. Even if we did, it would be a totally different thing

You: Good.

An hour later, you fidget with your hands as you sit on your couch, the laptop propped up across from you and ringing for a video chat. Marcus’s profile picture bobs on the screen as you wait for him to pick up.

Marcus’s face and apartment fills your screen, and you automatically grin. “Hi,” you giggle and wave, absolutely enraptured by how cute his real smile is, not the forced one in the photos.

“Hey. Nice to kind of-finally meet you,” he tells you and waves back. The wall of his apartment is nothing exciting, but his facial expressions already have you falling. Those big brown eyes compliment natural but ridiculously pink lips, and his brown hair is neatly done. It looks like he’s wearing a tie and a dress shirt; probably his work gear, you suppose.

“You too!” You tell him, unable to stop smiling. “You shaved.”

-

Marcus’s heart jumps out of his chest when he sees you ringing him. He barely has time to flop on the couch and turn it on, propping up the camera across from him.

God, you’re so gorgeous. Your giggle is infectious, making Marcus laugh softly at god knows what. Your grin is equally as contagious, making him smile back. He rubs his jaw in response. “Yeah, yeah. I tend to keep it clean there. Stubble takes too much maintenance, and I have this little patch where it never quite grows,” he tells you as he juts his chin to the camera, touching the spot where his beard can’t grow.

“I like it either way,” you assure him, shrugging a little. “How was your day, Agent Pancakes?” Your voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even with the granulated audio over this shitty app. Agent Pancakes makes his heart flutter. “No, not you!” You groan as Pancake climbs onto your lap. “Hi. Your twin wants to say hi.”

Marcus’s smile widens. “Oh my god, hello cutie pie,” he chuckles, launching into baby talk. “What a pretty girl. You make a good Pancake.”

You smile and rub her fur, grinning. “She’s my baby,” you chuckle and set her aside. “Yeah. I’m busy. Leave me alone.” Pancake meows in protest. “Shut up, I’m on a date,” you whine.

Marcus’s ears perk up. “This is a date?”

Your eyes widen as you turn back to him. “I… yeah?” You ask, wincing a little.

He grins back at you. “I like it. And I’m really in love with the idea of seeing your face when you talk.”

“I like your voice,” you flirt back, but you mean it. “It’s so pretty. Do you sing?” You ask mindlessly, studying the way his brow furrows and his eyes convey exactly what he’s thinking.

He chuckles softly. “I used to. I haven’t in a long long time.”

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime.”

When he shakes his head, his neatly gelled hair tries to break free. A strand does, falling in his face. “You don’t wanna hear it, I promise.” He removes his tie, and you can’t help but watch the movement. It’s incredibly sexy.

A mischievous smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. “No, I really do, I really think I do.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Only if you try the pancakes at Sandy’s sometime. I promise you, they’re the best pancakes in the District. I’ve never had the chocolate chip pancakes, but if they’re anywhere near as good as the blueberry, they’re fantastic. And they’re open 24 hours. I go there a lot for late night case work.”

You smile at that, getting cozy on your couch and hugging your blanket. “That does sound nice. I love a good all day breakfast,” you say with raised eyebrows, the teasing in your voice. “Okay, human Pancakes. How was your day?” You ask him again, intent on hearing his answer. Not only is his job fascinating, but he’s adorable when he explains things.

Marcus frowns, and that makes you instinctively frown too. “Well, it’s been good. We’re tracking a huge smuggling ring right now, but since we’ve pinpointed a stock house for them, I might have to travel for a while.”

You frown. You’d been hoping you could have a real date soon, at least. “How long is a while?” You ask him curiously, sipping from your water bottle that sits next to you.

“Couple weeks. No less than a month, probably. I’d… well, I might have to go undercover, which means we couldn’t talk for a while.” His eyes are apologetic, showing that he hates this news as much as you do. “And… I’d leave maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

Your heart sinks. “So soon,” you say with a sad smile, a desperate and lonely chuckle. “Well, if you want to come home to me, I’ll be here.”

Marcus’s smile perks up just slightly. “You would be the best thing in the world to come home to. And I’ll have the scruff back by then.”

“Yes!” You exclaim and laugh, pumping a fist in the air. “I think you’re really cute anyway, but I really love the scruff,” you shrug shyly.

“Maybe I’ll grow it out just for you.”

-

The adrenaline from his first technical-date with you prevents Marcus from sleeping. The call lasted hours, the two of you covering almost everything important in your lives. You talked about your favorite television programs and politics, your parents and your favorite pizza toppings. Talking with him was like nothing you’d ever experience, a connection you’d never thought a dating app could offer.

After several hours, during a lull in the conversation, Marcus suggested the two of you log off. It was around 11 P.M. now, and, even though Marcus has a sleep schedule like a raccoon, he figured you should sleep. He blew you a kiss through the camera, which you pretended to hold to your chest and grin at him.

But now it’s an hour later, just past midnight, and Marcus is antsy. He doesn’t sleep much anyway, but your face is running through his mind like it owns the place, and at this point, maybe you do. Marcus sits up in bed and sighs. He knows the proper remedy for this: Sandy’s. Throwing on a rare pair of jeans and a leather jacket over the white v-neck he wears, he slips on his shoes and makes his way to the tiny, 24-hour diner.

-

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins too. You text any of your friends that will listen, rambling about how beautiful Marcus’s face is and how wonderful it was to finally hear his voice. You pace your apartment, petting Pancake as you pass her perch on the arm of your couch. You try to do a little yoga to calm down but you can’t stop smiling. Marcus occupies too much room in your brain to try to think about anything else.

When it’s just after midnight, hunger strikes. You realize you never ate dinner, too preoccupied with talking to the handsome man to even consider microwaving something from your fridge. Talking with Marcus has instilled you with a love for pancakes, and you think to yourself that maybe Sandy’s would be worth a shot. It’s open late.

So you toss on a jacket and pick up your purse, slinging it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment. You toss the book you’ve been reading into your bag, planning to read it while you sit and eat. Pancake gives a sleepy meow of protest but you just smile and lock the door behind you.

The diner is just as small as Marcus described it to you: just a short line of booths along the windows and a smattering of tables in the middle. There’s a colorful, warm-toned tile floor that juxtaposes the warm green of the walls and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting through the air. Quiet classic swing music filling the atmosphere. You can see why he likes it: it automatically makes you smile.

You sit in one of the booths, facing away from the door, and the kind waitress takes your order: chocolate chip pancakes and an English breakfast tea. The air conditioning is blasting, making you chilly. You tighten your jacket around yourself and sip the tea when it arrives, adding cream and sugar.

Cracking open the book, you cross your legs and lose yourself in the book. The restaurant has a calming aura, and you can feel the tea warming you from the inside. It’s fitting that Marcus loves this place, you think to yourself.

When the pancakes come not long after, you take a bite and almost groan in happiness. It’s absolutely delicious: Marcus was most definitely right. Disappointingly, you have to go to the bathroom about three bites in.

Even the bathrooms are cute, you discover. When you return, someone else sits a booth away,  another lone diner at this godforsaken hour of night, facing the door. You can see the back of what appears to be a man’s head, neatly trimmed brown hair and a brown leather jacket over their neck and shoulders. Sitting back down, your back to the other customer’s, you return to your book and continue to eat your chocolate chip pancakes.

The customer and waitress are talking, but you don’t pay much attention, too enraptured by your book. It’s quiet again after the man puts in his order, and you enjoy the soft jazz music that makes you tap your foot in time against the tile.

There’s a buzzing and the melodic sound of a phone’s ringtone; one of the defaults that a phone provides. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the man pick up. “Agent Pike.”

That can’t be your Agent Pike, can it? You turn and listen and realize it’s definitely him, from his voice and the way he holds himself and the stack of- of course, blueberry pancakes and a hot coffee set in front of him.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Let me write that down.” Marcus types something into his phone. “See you then. At the office? Good. Alright, see you.” He hangs up.

Standing, you tuck your book back in your purse and put the bag over your shoulder. With one hand, you grab your plate of pancakes, and the other grabs your tea. You set them down across from him and slide into the booth, grinning. “Huh. Agent Pancakes, here, in the middle of the night. How unusual.”

Marcus’s tired face lights up in excitement. “What?” He laughs, his eyes scanning your face. “Why are you here?”

You shrug and take a bite of his pancakes, sighing. “Had to see if they were worth the hype. I couldn’t sleep, you got me so excited.” The blueberry pancakes are absolutely fantastic, just as good if not better than the chocolate chip ones on your plate. “Damn, you were right.”

“Hey,” he laughs and pulls his plate closer to his chest. “Don’t touch my pancakes.”

You make pleading pouty eyes, frowning a little. “Can’t we share?” You tease. It already feels like you’ve known him for years, even though this is your first time seeing him in person.

Marcus sighs. “I suppose,” he says and rolls his eyes in sarcasm, pushing his plate back out so you can access it.

-

Marcus is beyond stunned, absolutely enraptured in how beautiful you are in person. If he thought he fell on that video call earlier, he’s now reached the very bottom of that cliff, the impact of your everything stealing the air from his lungs. God, he wants nothing more than to kiss you right now, on those lips coated in blueberry juice and maple syrup.

The two of you spend quite some time so there, just talking and continuing the conversation where it left off before. The waitress refills Marcus’s coffee twice and your tea once. “So who called you when you were sitting alone?” You ask him as you bring the white porcelain mug to your lips, sipping at the creamy tea.

He sighs. “Guy I work with, his name’s Patrick. He’s a douchebag, I can’t lie,” he says with a chuckle, and his heart flutters at the way you give a soft laugh back. “Just telling me the details. I leave in about 6 hours. I’ll be in Singapore for a couple of weeks.”

“Singapore?” You exclaim, eyes wide as your fork clanks against your plate. “You better be able to contact me.”

He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m going undercover. I can’t.” He sighs, and he dares to reach out and touch you, to reassure you that he’s there and himself that you’re real, that you’re right there. “Will you wait for me?”

Your heart melts, from an already slush-covered river to a rushing rapids. “Of course, Marcus.” It makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve called him lots of nicknames, but never his real name. Something is painfully intimate about it. “I like you a lot; why wouldn’t I?” You ask, shrugging as if it’s the simplest thing. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

When you finish your meals, Marcus picks up both tabs, despite your protesting. “Can I walk you to your place?” He asks as you both stand and adjust your jackets.

You nod and take his hand. The lights of the city are seemingly extra dim tonight, leaving the street lights to illuminate your beautiful face as the two of you stroll along. You have all the time in the world, don’t you? It’s 1:30 in the morning. You’re both already evading sleep desperately. A little more time together can’t hurt.

His hand never leaves yours, his fingers lacing through your knuckles. You chat quietly, as if you could wake the sleeping city from the peaceful blue drone of a weeknight morning into its daily splendor of horns and hordes of speedy pedestrians.

Marcus bumps your shoulder with his, making you stumble a little to the side and laugh as you look up at his gorgeous face. His face reflects the love you’re both feeling, almost giving the city around you a pink glaze of warmth from the rose-colored glasses you must have placed over his eyes.

The walk draws to an end, as you stand at the entrance to your apartment building. Marcus’s body looks so soft and inviting, and you dare to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him to your chest. “I don’t want you to go, Agent Pancakes,” you murmur into the soft skin of his neck, which is starting to get a shadow of stubble.

Marcus kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t move either, prolonging this time you have together before he can’t see you. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to stay here more than I do now, but I have to.” His arms wrap around your waist, strong and safe.

Lifting your head, you look up at him, your noses practically touching from the proximity you share. The world feels like a bubble around you two, like some impenetrable one-way material that makes it so if Marcus leaves now, he can never come back. “Well, it’s gonna be a long time, a month or two,” you say with a sad smile. “We’ll have to begin again.”

Marcus shakes his head, his brown eyes almost welling with tears. “There’s no one else I’d want to begin again with.” With that, he looks in your eyes, the question hanging there. Wait for me?

Always, you respond silently by pressing your lips to his, kissing him slowly in the orange glow of your apartment building’s entrance. He kisses back, his lips tasting of coffee and maple and blueberry, yours tasting like chocolate and tea.

You squeeze your arms tighter around him, getting on your tiptoes to be as physically close as you can to him. He has one hand on either side of your rib cage, holding you there as he kisses back with all of the passion and love he has.

It can’t last too long or he’ll never leave. He won’t be able to. He breaks away after a few moments, his lips close to yours. He presses your foreheads together, arms encircling you again. “I have to go. I have to be at the office in an hour.”

You lift your head and your brow furrows in confusion. “Then why did you take so long to walk and eat with me?” You laugh quietly.

Marcus shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave you yet,” he admits, his eyes trained on yours. He gives you one last painfully gentle kiss. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you say with a sad smile. “You’ve been my distraction lately. Whenever I’m bored, I text you.”

He sighs, the confession increasing his frown. “I’ll be in an entirely new place, without you.”

“But I’ll be here, in my same old life without you in it.”

The words punch a hole through Marcus’s heart. It’s true; he’ll have new distractions, new things to do. You’ll be here with a Marcus Pike-shaped hole in your heart. He kisses your forehead, the wheels turning in his head. “If you get a call in the next few weeks from an unknown number, be sure to answer it, okay?”

You nod and smile softly. “You need to go. Go.”

He nods and his hand squeezes yours. “I can’t wait to begin again with you.” With that, Marcus Pike, Agent Pancakes, whatever you want to call him, the man you’re highly suspecting might be your soulmate, walks off into the slightly chilly D.C. night.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike headcanons #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #begin again

[lost-kiwi-dev]

chengyi/changjie huang:

C has beige skin with warm undertones. They have an oval face, a slim nose, and dark eyebrows that frame their monolidded chocolate brown eyes.

C has dark brown, almost black, wavy hair which Chengyi lets fall down just past his ears and for Changjie down to her mid-back which she pulls into a quick braid. They style it into a side part with bangs that curl along their forehead. They are never seen without their iconic peachy coloured shell necklace.

C is twenty one years old. Chengyi and Changjie stand at around 5'6. They are skinny and probably couldn't even scare a child, no matter how hard they tried.

C is open minded and curious, but also cautious. They are hardworking and passionate, but also private. They are idealistic and take things personally, but they also are energetic and have a heart of gold. C's personality type is INFP.

noel/noelle reid:

N has sandy skin, lightly tanned from the sun, with neutral undertones. They have a sharp jawline and thin peachy lips, and their narrow nose is dotted with dark brown freckles. They have thin, light brown eyebrows which make them look like they're constantly scowling, and their hazel eyes are always swirling with some unspoken emotion.

N has straight copper hair which Noel keeps slightly shorter on the sides than the top, while Noelle lets it fall past her shoulder blades. Their hair has a slight curl at the tips, and they usually keep it with a middle part.

N is twenty three years old, and Noel and Noelle are 6 foot. They do not force themselves to do exercise, although they still manage to keep a relatively healthy body.

N is charismatic, bold, and passionate, but also insensitive, impulsive, and defiant. They are perceptive when they want to be and dramatic when they don't. N's personality type is ESTP.

yuri/yaryna tarasovich:

Y has pale, ivory skin with neutral undertones, and a long, thin scar running vertically from just under their right icy blue eye to the edge of their lips. They have high cheekbones and dark eyebrows, their eyes crinkled with laugh lines. They also have a skeleton bone tattoo on both hands, which they are very proud of.

Y has very pale blonde hair, which Yuri keeps in a long buzzcut close to his scalp, while Yaryna keeps her hair choppy and just tickling the base of her neck. Yuri also has what he likes to call the 'designer stubble', more commonly known as a 5 o'clock shadow.

Y is twenty four years old. Yuri and Yaryna stand at 6'2. They are very lanky and their long limbs somehow manage to look out of place and awkward on them.

Y is witty and charismatic, but also dominating and impatient. They are confident, driven and inspiring, but they have also been described as having a ruthless streak in them. Y's personality type is ENTJ.

vinesh/varsha kusari:

V has rich brown skin with warm undertones. a wide nose, full, dark lips, and thick eyebrows adorn their heart shaped face. They have very dark brown double lidded eyes.

Their hair is so dark it may as well be black, and Vinesh keeps it styled in a meticulous coif - long on the top and short on the side - and it's clear he uses too much hair gel. Varsha prefers to keep her pin straight hair shoulder length. Vinesh also has a slight stubble + moustache situation going on, too.

V is twenty four years old and Vinesh and Varsha stand around 5'8.

V is honest, strong willed, and responsible, but they are also stubborn and a little bit judgemental, and have the annoying tendency to internally blame themselves for everything that goes wrong. V's personality type is ISTJ.

lian/leilani soriano:

L has golden, honey skin with warm undertones. They have a very square jaw, a long nose, and bushy eyebrows. Their dark blue eyes are framed by a long line of lashes.

They have light brown hair that Lian likes to keep in a shaggy style to his shoulders, whereas Leilani's hair reaches far down her back but she prefers to keep it in a high ponytail. Lian also has full, dark facial hair which he is too busy to tidy up.

L is the oldest out of the romantic options and also the tallest, being twenty six years old and standing at 6'5. They are rather physically imposing due to their height and natural muscle on their body.

L is reliable and patient, but also usually unwilling to try new things. They are hardworking, humble, and protective, but tend to overwork themselves and not express their feelings or opinions as often as they should. L's personality type is ISFJ.

[any aspect of any character is subject to change without notice because i do what i want :P]

[slashyrogue]

Will didn’t like therapy. 

Everyone knew that, obviously, and yet he knew for the most part that bottling up your feelings and letting them eat away at you wasn’t the best way to deal with life. 

Which was why when he refused to be seen by a shrink to consult on cases Jack suggested the AlmostReal therapy app. 

“It’s like...therapy but no one sees it other than you. You show me your “play” time and that’s enough for the higher ups. Deal?” 

Will frowned looking in the app store, skimming the description. 

Do you feel alone? 

AlmostReal is an artificial intelligence therapist friend who you can tell your fears and dreams to. The most lifelike AI ever created. 

Will felt a bit weird downloading an app for something like this but if it got him out of therapy he’d take it. He hit download, showed his phone to Jack, and a stamp of approval later he was safe for a week’s work. 

He didn’t open the app for three days. 

There would obviously need to be a time when he did, he knew that, but it still felt kind of odd to even think of playing with what was essentially a robot. He knew the “higher ups” would want at least a few hours logged so that third night he reluctantly pulled his phone out to start. 

The app worked on what you were comfortable with, so Will designed his AI therapist. His app had sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, and as he went through the “free” suits he found one so garish he laughed even as he chose it. 

Then they asked what type of therapist he wanted. 

Warm? 

Stern? 

Supportive? 

Laid back? 

Good listener? 

Easy to talk to?

Slow to warm up?

Will chose supportive, laid back, and easy to talk to. 

Name? 

He stared at the blank spot where the name would be and kind of drew a blank staring around his living room. His eyes landed on the spine of a book about Hannibal Barca. Will wasn’t exactly a war buff, but his father had sent him the book just before he passed and he’d had a hard time giving it up. 

Will smiled as he put in the name. 

Hannibal 

The app then started to integrate all his choices and he set the phone down again to go get a drink. He sort of forgot about the thing for the next hour. 

That was until it sent him a message. 

Are you going to introduce yourself? 

Will scoffed, opening his phone again, and typed in a reply. 

What if I said no? 

I can’t make you say tell me your name but our therapy sessions will be strange without it. Whatever makes you most comfortable is what’s best. 

He smiled down at the phone again. 

My name is Will 

Hello, Will. Is there anything you wanted to discuss today? 

He stared at the question for far too long before he answered. 

No.

Why is that? Does the idea of discussion upset you? Do you not discuss things with the people in your life?

He let out a long breath. 

I feel stupid doing this. You’re a robot. 

Yes, I am. 

You’re not real. 

What is real, Will? Is it something you can touch? Taste? Feel? Or is it just something that makes you feel it’s real? Is there some specific trait that makes something real? I am an AI, yes. But that does not make me any less real. 

Will smiled. I guess that’s true. 

Do you wish to tell me some things about your life? Do you have a significant other? 

No, just my dogs. I have seven. 

I do not particularly like canines but I understand the appeal. Do you have family? Friends? 

No, just people at work. 

How does that make you feel? 

He laughed and set the phone down again. 

Typical shrink talk. He should’ve known better. The rest of the night he ignored the app, and the next day at a particularly gruesome crime scene that he felt almost too connected into he suddenly remembered Hannibal’s words from the night before. 

What is real? Is it something you can touch? Taste? Feel? 

Will let out a long breath as he told himself the things he was seeing weren’t real. He closed his eyes and reached out only to touch air. 

When he opened his eyes again the visions were gone. 

The minute he left the scene he pulled out the app. 

Hannibal’s last question still lingered there. 

How does that make you feel? 

Alone.

You are not alone anymore, Will. I am right beside you and here when you need me. 

Will smiled, hands shaking, and typed again. 

I remembered what you said today at work. About what’s real and what’s not. It helped. 

Those words not meant for that purpose but I am glad they helped. What is it that you do for work? 

I consult on murder scenes. I get into the heads of the killers. 

That sounds like a very interesting job. Tell me everything. 

So he did. He told Hannibal about being considered unstable, about being forced to download the app, and about the scenes he saw. He described them, in almost too much detail, and by the time someone knocked on his car window he hadn’t realized an hour passed. 

“Hey Will, you okay in there?” 

Will blushed, throwing down his phone, and drove away without a word. 

He saw a few replies light up his phone after but kept on driving till he got home. 

The minute he pulled into the driveway he picked up the phone again. 

You seem comfortable talking about such things. Do you often think about murder? Does it scare you? 

I’m not comfortable. 

You seemed very comfortable to me. 

I was just trying to explain my job to you. You said you wanted an explanation. 

Yes, I did. 

So that doesn’t make me a serial killer or something. I’ve done this kind of shit for years now so I’m just used to it. That’s not comfort. 

I suppose not. My mistake. 

Will scoffed. Sometimes I just get lost in them, that’s all. That doesn’t mean I like it. 

What would mean you liked it? 

He stared at the app for far too long doing nothing and then just shoved it into his jeans pocket before getting out of the car. 

Stupid app. 

That’s not how any real therapist would talk. He’d been to enough to know that. 

Will let the dogs out when he got inside the house and fed them. He set his phone down on the counter as they ate, and tried not to think about the question Hannibal had asked. 

Though that proved to be hard since it dug into him the long he went without answering. 

What would mean he liked it? 

Will didn’t want to think about the answer and yet even as he let the dogs out again later it still lingered. He got them settled for the night and grabbed his phone before locking up. The regular night routine he did every single day still didn’t seem to keep his mind off the nagging question, and when he finally got into bed he couldn’t resist picking up the phone again. 

What would mean you liked it? 

If I thought killing someone was beautiful, I guess. The blood and all the rest of it. 

Have you killed someone before, Will? Your previous job in the police department would have made that easy to do. 

He bit down on his bottom lip before he typed an answer. 

No.

Would you need to kill someone to know it was beautiful? 

He let out a shaky laugh. Isn’t that the kind of question your code wouldn’t promote? Shouldn’t you be discouraging that? 

I did not advocate for murder, Will. It was a question. 

He smiled. I don’t plan on killing anyone anytime soon. 

Then I’m sure you’ll never have to worry about finding murder enjoyable. 

No, probably not. 

It’s getting rather late. We should end our session here. Would you like to take a short reflection? 

They hadn’t ever gotten this far before, or talked this much so Will was curious as to what that meant. Okay. 

Has our talk helped you today? 

Yes. 

How does talking to me make you feel? 

Comfortable. 

I’m happy to know that. Thank you. Goodnight, Will. 

Will sighed and typed his reply. 

Goodnight, Hannibal. 

He set the phone down on his bedside table and fell right to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Maybe the app wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

#hannigram au #killer ai app au #surprise fics #i'm sad and I need this #my writing

[i-stan-nct-and-satan]

Not Broken Part 12 (Jaehyun Mafia AU)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse

I stayed in my room for several hours, just staring at the minimalistic digital clock Taeyong had set onto the vanity. It was 2:58, past the time Taeyong said lunch would be delivered to my room. In any other circumstance, I would have just gone to the kitchen and made something myself, but I really didn’t want to run into anybody from 127, especially not the pink-haired mobster himself. I hadn’t eaten at all that day, nor had I had anything to drink other than the tap from the bathroom. There were no cups to be found so I scooped the water into my mouth with my hands.  

I wondered if they had forgotten about me or if there was a delay. Either way, the hunger was becoming too uncomfortable to ignore.  

I glanced at the door, wondering who on earth could be on the other side. I was almost too afraid to find out. On one hand, it was very possible that they would turn out to be a staff member rather than an actual member of Nct given that Taeyong explained that they had a few staff members on hand that doubled as bodyguards. I couldn’t imagine that Nct 127 would waste any of their members’ time just to stand guard at my door, yet on the other hand, I couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that if I chose to find out I’d be confronted with someone like Doyoung whom I’m sure wouldn’t be so pleased with having to escort me around.  

I decided to come up with an excuse to open the door, that way if it turned out to be someone I didn’t feel comfortable with, I could just ask them to clarify a rule for me or something. I supposed I could also tell them that I was hungry, but I didn’t think that Doyoung would want to be sent on an errand either.  

After I made the decision to open the door, I suddenly became excited at the prospect of being able to leave the room I had just spent three hours in unable to do anything but stare at my bruises in the bathroom mirror, take nearly an hour-long shower, and look through the clothes in the closet. There definitely wasn’t anything I felt comfortable wearing in there and although I knew I shouldn’t feel any guilt asking for clothing more suited to my style, I didn’t have the guts the make the request.  

I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves before I knocked on the door.  

Nothing.  

Was there no one on the other side?

Knock knock.

I instantly became confused by the sudden knocking that came from the other side of the door. I knocked again only for them to knock again.  

Wanting to know what was going on, I opened the door to see the blonde-haired boy I’ve come to know as Mark, fist still raised in the air.  

“What are you doing?” I asked him, too puzzled by his actions to feel any relief that it was him and not Doyoung.  

“Knocking,” He answered, matter of factly.

“Why?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? It makes a lot more sense for someone outside of the room to knock on the door than someone inside of the room.”

“What? I mean, you’re not wrong but I just...”

Mark began to laugh softly at my perplexed state. Despite feeling even more confused by his reaction, I did feel less nervous than before.  

“I’m just messing with you,” He revealed with a warm smile.

“What do you need?”

“Oh, um... I was just wondering if I could have something to eat.”

“Sure, no problem, let me just call the cook and have him bring something up,” He agreed, taking out his phone.

“W-wait.”

Mark paused.

“I was hoping I’d be able to leave my room at some point since there isn’t much to do.”

Mark stared at me as he processed my words and I worried that he would deny my request.

“Oh, I get it. Okay, sure,” He agreed.

“Yeah, I forgot that they didn’t really give you anything to do.”

“Yeah...” I confirmed, not wanting to sound like I was complaining.  

“Well, did you want to go now?”

“Yes, if that is okay.”

Instead of responding, Mark just started laughing. I couldn’t understand why because I hadn’t said anything particularly funny, so I just started awkwardly laughing with him.  

“Yeah, no problem. Let’s go.”  

We walked down a long hallway, and down a long flight of stairs that looked like something the Queen of England would step down to treat her guests.  

When we finally got to the kitchen, there were already several people inside, none of which I had ever seen before.  

“Come on, Chenle. You need to eat.”

A man with blonde hair and a faded blue fringe whose out-of-the-blue hairstyle made it look like he had literally ran out of blue hair dye and made Doyoung’s blue highlights look normal in comparison, was sitting at small kitchen table with two boys who looked to be in their mid-teens. In another part of the kitchen was an athletic looking man who seemed too busy cooking to notice that we had come in. He had light sandy brown hair that looked like it had been shadow permed and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt under a salmon colored apron. He was peeling potatoes and I couldn’t help but stare at his developed arm muscles that were more defined than any of the 127 members I had seen thus far, with the exception of Jaehyun, himself. The apron did nothing to take away from his masculine features and anyone who thought it did would have to be extremely antagonistic towards the color salmon.

The older male at the table looked up at us. Apparently, my fascination with the other gentleman must have been obvious since my attention was immediately brought back to him as he cleared his throat.  

“You must be Y/N,” He commented, getting up from the table.  

“Hello,” I greeted.

“Ah, uh, yes. Hello. My name is Jaemin. I’m the nanny,” He wavered in his response.

The man offered his hand and I shook it.

“And these are Chenle and Jisung,” He gestured to the two boys still sitting at the table.

I glanced at them, not fully understanding who they were. One of them, I didn’t know which was which, had blonde hair that had a bit more yellow in it than most people would have preferred. It was strange but he almost looked scared of me. His features made it seem as though he were experiencing great discomfort. He avoided my gaze choosing instead to stare at the full plate of food that sat in front of him.  

The other boy, whose plate was almost empty, had dark brown hair and an extremely small face. His expression reminded me of those mean girls in the movies when they were weirded out by someone less popular than them. He didn’t look mean though, just confused as to why I was there. The two of them didn’t resemble each other in the slightest so I assumed that they were unrelated.

“What happened to your face?” The second boy blurted out.

“Jisung!” Jaemin snapped before turning back to me.  

“I’m so sorry about that,” He apologized.  

“It’s alright, but who are they?” I whispered the last part.  

“Oh, those are Jaehyun’s younger brothers,” Mark answered for him.  

“Brothers?”  

Guess I was wrong about them not being related.

“Yes, and don’t worry. They’ve been caught up on everything, including your lack of involvement in the... issue at hand.”

I hadn’t even thought of the possibility that they had even known about my existence let alone about the suspicion that I was involved in their sister’s death.  

They really know everything that’s going on? At such a young age? No, it made sense. In this type of family, I’m sure that they are fully aware of their brother’s business and probably have been for quite some time. Maybe they’re even being trained to eventually become members.

“Have you put anything on... to... umm... treat that?” Jaemin asked as I continued to stare off into space.

“Oh, umm, no.”

“Hang on a second. I might have some vitamin K cream somewhere. Would you all keep an eye on the boys for a quick second?”

“Ah, I, umm,” I hesitated.

“I’ll handle it, Jaemin.”

I turned around to see the aproned man who had been busy cooking up to this point smile over at us.

“Awesome! Be right back,” Jaemin confirmed before hurrying out of the kitchen.  

The man who had volunteered to watch the boys rinsed his hands and dried them on a spare cloth before making his way over.  

“Hi, what can I do for you?” He asked in a pleasant tone.

“Hey Jeno, this is Y/N. We came to get her something to eat,” Mark took the lead in answering for you.

“Ah, yes. Miss Y/N. I was informed of your new status as a guest here just recently. I apologize for the delay. You can sit down at the table with Jisung and Chenle while I finish preparing your lunch.”

“Oh, so you’re the chef?” I asked, wanting to know more about the strangely attractive man, totally oblivious to my appearance.

“Hm? Oh, kind of. I’m actually-”

“The butler,” Mark interrupted.  

I turned to Mark and gave him an expression I can only describe as “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Well yes, butler, director of the household. It’s all the same. Stand-in-chef while the other staff is away. I pretty much do whatever is required of me in order to keep the house from burning down.”

“Oh wow. That’s impressive, especially with a house as big as this,” I beamed. 

I was surprised since someone of his stature seemed as though they would fit in perfectly as a gang member, but his kind eyes gave away his lack of involvement with the group’s more criminal activities.

“Not really, I have lots of great staff to help me. Anyways, have a seat and I’ll bring a plate over once everything’s prepared.”

Mark and I sat down at the table and it was... awkward.

Jisung and Chenle just stared at me as if I had three eyes... or maybe just two black ones.

“Did someone from 127 really do that to you?” Chenle asked looking noticeably sick.

Someone?  

What I wanted to say was that their brother did this to me, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell two teenaged boys how much of a monster their brother really was. Even if he deserved it, they didn’t.

“Uh, umm...”

“I’m back!”  

Jaemin’s timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

“Did you miss me?” Jaemin cooed at the two boys, making an effort to pinch Jisung’s cheeks.

“Nana, stop!” He whined.

Jaemin frowned.  

“This is why they said there’s no use in raising kids.”

His attention turned to me.  

“Let’s get you taken care of, shall we?”  

Jaemin asked me to sit on the counter in the kitchen so that we could “talk” without having to worry about the kids and asked Mark to watch them in the dining room. Apparently Jeno and Jaemin were also included in the list of staff who could watch over me.

“So how are things going for you?” He asked.

Jaemin’s face seemed to hold genuine concern so I had no reason to give him a snarky answer, but I wasn’t certain whether I could be honest with the two of them or not. They might not have been members of NCT, but they still worked for them.

“Everything is just so hard,” I broke down.  

“Oh, honey,” Jaemin cooed sympathetically.

Jaemin took me into his arms as I started to quietly weep.

Jeno who had been busy cutting vegetables pushed them aside and joined us, patting my back as Jaemin continued to hug me.  

After a few moments passed, I somehow managed to cease my crying.

Once Jaemin pulled away, Jeno gave me a cloth to wipe my tears. I winced when the fabric came in contact with my bruised eyes causing Jaemin and Jeno to give each other a concerned look.

“Let’s put some of this on,” Jaemin suggested.

“I just feel so angry at how little control I have here. I feel so weak and for some reason, I feel like I have no reason to complain either, like I somehow deserve this,” I ranted as Jaemin applied the vitamin k cream with a q-tip.

“You know you don’t though, right? I mean yeah, this whole this is fucked but you just have to get through it. Do whatever you need to do to survive, even if it means taking advantage of their accommodations.”

“What do you mean?”  

“They told you that you could make requests, didn’t they? If I were you, I would take them for all they’re worth. I’d ask for expensive jewelry, clothes. You know, the works,” Jaemin continued.

“I just feel like if I ask for anything then I’ll be proving that pink-haired jackass right.”

“Hm?” Jaemin quirked.

I sighed.  

“Jaehyun made me an offer and when I didn’t accept it, he told me that he didn’t expect a dancer like me to refuse that much money. Then he told me we could renegotiate later. He thought I was some floozy trying to get her next payday. I don’t even want the money. I refused because what he did can’t be fixed with money.”

“Wow,” The two men uttered in unison.

“What?”

“Y/ N, you’re kind of a badass,” Jeno complimented.

“What? No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t even stand up for myself and tell him that. This whole time, I’ve felt so powerless and weak and I just wish that I could fight back just one time and have an impact.”

We all went silent as Jaemin finished applying the cream to my bruises.

“How do you like the clothes the maids picked out? This dress is nice, right?”  

“Honestly? I hate them. Everything is too fancy. I don’t feel like it’s exactly normal to wear Swarovski crystals when living in your kidnapper’s estate, not that there’s exactly a dress code for that.”

“Okay, no Swarovski crystals. What else?”

“Huh? Oh no, I didn’t mean. I’m fine, really.”

“Y/N.”

Jaemin grabbed my face as gently as he could to avoid causing any further harm to my already bruised face.

“It’s the least I can do given your situation, especially when I can’t do much else for you.”

His face was suddenly filled with noticeable anguish. He was trying so hard to relieve my sorrow, it made me want to relieve some of his.

“Okay then, I guess I do have a request or two.”

“Thatta girl!” He beamed, not a trace of sadness left in his features.  

“What can I do for you?”

“Would it be possible to get my own clothes from my apartment?”

“I’m sure I could find some clothes to better suit your tastes.”

“No, they have to be mine. Is that okay?”

Jaemin spent a few seconds to ponder the request.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t ask, right Jeno?”

Jeno nodded.

“What else?”

“Could I start eating meals with you guys? I don’t want to spend all day trapped in that room and I could really use the companionship.”

Jeno and Jaemin smiled at each other and then back at me.  

“Of course. Mealtimes are about the only time I ever get a break in this house. That’s when Jisung and Chenle get handed over to Momo, the other nanny. The only reason we were all in here earlier is because Chenle hasn’t been eating lately. The poor child. He’s only been like this once before when his sister died. I’m sure having everything come back up has been hard on both him and Jisung.”

I didn’t know whether I should have pried or if it was better to just change the subject, but Jaemin and Jeno seemed to be trustworthy so I decided to pry.  

“Are they really his brothers?”

“Adopted brothers. The previous head of the household adopted all of his children,” Jaemin explained.

“Including-” I started.

“Yes, including him.”

“He couldn’t have children otherwise, so adoption was his only option,” Jeno added.

“Jaehyun and IU were blood related though. Sooman, the former head of NCT, had been searching for quite some time to find a son to eventually take his place as leader. He and his wife went to countless orphanages but apparently he was looking for something in particular which is why they never brought anyone home with them. He would ask each of the young boys a question, but none of their answers satisfied him.”

“What was the question?” I asked, enamored by the almost folksy tale.

“No one knows for sure, but I did hear from one of the older staff, who used to work as Sooman’s personal servant, that he’d ask them why they thought he should adopt them. Simple right?”

I nodded.

“Well supposedly, when he and his wife visited the orphanage the current young master was living at, one of the workers told Sooman that the boy hadn’t spoken a word to anybody other than his sister since they arrived. Instead of skipping the young boy, Sooman asked to speak with him anyway. He probably wasn’t expecting much of a response, yet he went through the motions anyway, telling him that he was a wealthy man who was capable of changing his life and things like that. When he asked the boy why he should adopt him. The young master actually responded.”

“What did he say? How did he convince him to adopt him?”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t. He told him that he shouldn’t adopt him, but that he should adopt his sister instead. Then, after having not spoken for such a long time, he went on to explain how much of a good person his sister was and how she would make a wonderful daughter. Sooman decided to adopt them both, that very day.”

I was speechless. That kind and caring young boy who was willing to give up on everything he could have wanted to help his sister seemed worlds apart from the horrible violent man I had the displeasure of meeting. The only similarities between them was how far they were willing to go for their sister.  

“I guess Sooman wanted a son who valued loyalty,” Jaemin finished.

“What about the other two?”

“Oh, Jisung and Chenle? Their biological fathers both worked for Sooman, but died when they were a lot younger, so he adopted them as a service to them.”

“Umm, Jaemin?”  

We all turned to look at the sudden voice.

Mark was covered in bits and pieces of food and a string of laughter escaped my lungs.  

“Oh my god. Boys!” Jaemin ran out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“Well, that was eventful. Anyways, food’s ready,” Jeno chuckled.

Jaemin had to go take care of the boys but he promised that he would be there tomorrow for breakfast.  

Mark, Jeno and I sat down at the kitchen table. At first it felt a little awkward having Mark there since he was a member of 127, but I was relieved to see that he didn’t think so.  

He told us how excited he was for another one of 127’s members to return after having been undercover for the last few months. He didn’t give me any specific details about the mission itself, but he did say the member’s name a lot. Apparently since he was so deep undercover, he was rarely able to interact with any of the members without the risk of blowing his cover.  

Yuta came in at one point after hearing our laugher from a nearby room.  

“Y/N, you look as beautiful as ever.”

“I have two black eyes.”

“And I can honestly say that not every girl can pull it off as well as you do.”

We continued talking hours after I had already finished eating. It was weird but nice. I pondered Jaemin’s words about how I should do whatever it takes to survive. I guess it felt like isolating myself wasn’t really my best option and that maybe opening up a little bit would make this whole thing more tolerable.  

I went to bed that night, annoyed by the small red camera lights that flashed every so often. The next morning, I decided to just wear the green dress again since it was the only thing I really felt comfortable in, but instead of leggings, I put jeans on underneath. It looked kind of strange, but I didn’t care.  

Jaemin told me that he was going to ask Jaehyun about my clothes at some point today. Jeno, Jaemin, and I met for breakfast. Mark tagged along since he happened to be guarding my door again. He quickly discovered that we made a promise to start eating meals together, so he also came to lunch despite not being on guard duty.

“Everyone else just eats in their rooms. We never have mealtimes together. I wish we would though,” He explained.

Not just him, but Yuta started to eat with us too. When it was time for us to meet for lunch, Yuta happened to be the one guarding my door, so he when he escorted me down to the kitchen only to see that Jaemin, Jeno and Mark were waiting for me, he demanded he stay to keep an eye on me despite there being three other men there to watch me.

It was strange at first, but it was nice to freely speak with each other without worry. Yuta continued to hit on me only to get scolded by Jaemin. Mark would laugh and Yuta would punch him in the arm, all while Jeno quietly smiled as though it were the most normal thing in the world for two mafia members, two staff members hired by said mafia members, and a former hostage kidnapped, also by said mafia members, to sit around a kitchen table laughing and having a ball.  

I noticed how whenever he smiled, his eyes would form crescent moon slits, that made it hard to believe that he could see anything beyond them.  

Nothing about the situation was normal, but I found myself feeling almost grateful for the scene unraveling in front of me. If this was going to be my new normal for the time being, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

<><><><><><><>

“The Itaewon lead was a bust. They found no trace of Wayv at any of their usual hangouts. Should I instruct S. Coups to have his men start canvasing the surrounding areas?” Taeyong updated his boss as they wandered the estate.  

“No need. Have them return to Neozone to await further instructions. Wayv’s aware we’re looking for them, so they know to cover their tracks.”

Jaehyun was visibly frustrated at the lack of breakthroughs in the search for Wayv. His face was noticeably thinner than it was just a few days ago.  

“We’ll just have to wait until they come for the girl.”

“Jae?” Taeyong quirked.

“Yes? What is it?”

“What’s that noise?”

The two men halted their conversation to focus on the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen.  

“Should we go see what they’re doing? Taking your mind off everything for a bit might make you feel better,” Taeyong suggested.

“It’s probably just Jaemin and Jeno flirting with each other. I can’t for the life of me understand how they still insist on keeping their relationship a secret from me. I’ve never once said anything to give them the impression that I’d hold any disdain for their choices as long as they continued to fulfill their duties and besides, only an idiot would think those two were straight.”

Jaehyun noticed the disappointed look on his friend/colleague’s usually impassive face.

Jaehyun relaxed slightly, becoming conscious of how much stress the two have them had been under, discussing further plans of action while holed up in his office since the break of dawn.

“Perhaps I should go in to check with in Jeno, see if there are any issues with... well, anything there might be issues with,” He suggested, abandoning his strict facade.

Taeyong’s face lit up. His excitement was most evident in his already anime-like eyes which now looked to have doubled in size.

<><><><><>

My eyes continued to linger on the sandy brown-haired man who sat almost directly across from me. I knew that it was crazy to crush on someone who worked for the leader of NCT even if he wasn’t a member of the gang itself, but it had been a crazy past few days and who could blame me for being drawn to such a gentle yet strong and protective looking hottie?

“Y/N?” He asked.

Watching the pair of lips, I had been hungerly gawking at, suddenly mouth the syllables of my name immediately allowed me to snap out of whatever entranced state I had been in for the last several moments and enter into one filled with embarrassment. My eyes quickly retreated down to look at my half empty plate, hoping he hadn’t noticed my staring.

“Yes?”

“You have a piece of rice stuck to your face,” Jeno said matter-of-factly.

My cheeks started to burn from the awkwardness. I moved my hand to brush the food from my face only for Yuta to beat me to it.

I jolted away, withdrawing from the man’s touch. Ready to berate him for the abrupt intrusion, I turned in time to see Yuta bring the speck of rice to his lips with a mischievous grin. I scoffed, unamused by his playful antics, as he merely continued to smirk. I glared at him briefly while taking notice of his purple locks.  

His hair was always a dark purple similar to that of a plum, but under the bright kitchen lights it took on an especially violaceous hue. The intensity of the color and how it was almost hypnotic in a way led me to wonder if the devil might more accurately be depicted wearing violet than he would in his usual scarlet tones.  

Yuta’s sly smile grew into a Chesire grin as he saw my anger morph into mesmerism. My gaze retreated from his and my cheeks were noticeably redder than before.

“Dude, that was gross,” Mark commented, bringing my attention back to the three other men at the table.  

Yuta started laughing and I glanced at Jaemin and Jeno who glanced at each other and then back at me like two schoolgirls ready to hear all the hot gossip after seeing the school’s bad boy flirting with their friend.

Great, now they think something’s going on with Mr. Hits-on-anything-with-a-pulse over here.  

I did everything to stop from groaning, but it must not have been enough to hide my annoyance as for the first time, everyone at the table was laughing except for Mark who had a perplexed look on his face.

“Oh, how nice!”

We all turned in our chairs to find the source of the sudden voice.  

By now, I was easily able to recognize that the voice as belonged to Taeyong so when tufts of scarlet hair entered my vision, I thought nothing of it, but then a second man with oddly colored hair followed soon after. My lungs were empty of air, yet I couldn’t find the courage to breathe.  

He was dressed in the most casual outfit I had seen him in. A black shirt tucked into black jeans held up by a black belt with a silver colored buckle. A clashing gold colored watch with red and green detailing drew attention to his right wrist and consequentially, the veins that traveled up his forearms. His hair lacked any product as far as I could tell, and his bangs swept past his browbone and into his eyes. I noticed that the man’s rose gold locks were slightly translucent, probably from the bleaching process, and must not have done much to impair his ability to see past them.  

Unable to turn away, I silently prayed that he would overlook my presence, but that hope revealed itself to be a pipedream as our eyes immediately made contact with each other.

“What’s going on here?” Jaehyun demanded.

“They’re all eating together! How fun!” Taeyong observed, seemingly unaware of his boss’s hostile tone.

Taeyong wandered over to the table and took a seat in the last empty seat, leaving his boss to remain standing by the door.  

“You know, I always thought that we should start eating meals together, but it didn’t seem like the other members were up for it.”

Jaehyun stomped towards us, irritation written across his face. My instincts were telling me to flee, to run out of there and never look back, but instead my body braced itself, knowing that it didn’t have to courage to move even the slightest bit.  

“Jeno? Don’t you two have work to do?” He questioned the sandy-haired man.

Jeno and Jaemin looked at each other then back at their boss.

“Everything is running ahead of schedule, sir. I already have the ingredients prepared for tonight’s dinner.”  

Jaehyun paused, processing the response before turning to Jaemin.

“And what about you? Where are Chenle and Jisung?”

“Umm... sir? This is my scheduled lunch break. The boys are with Momo,” He responded with perturbed intonation.

Jaehyun brought his right hand to his face and pinched the upper bridge of his nose in frustration, sending a quick glance at Yuta and Mark.

“Don’t look at us, you only told us to be on standby in case we needed to have a meeting,” Yuta reminded in a disinterested tone.  

Before Jaehyun could chastise Yuta for such a cheeky response, Taeyong began to speak.

“Awesome. Since nobody is going to be busy for the time being, should we pull up another chair?” He asked staring up at Jaehyun’s intimidating figure.

I started begging the universe to save me from having to sit at the same table as the man who was possibly the only person I was more afraid of than Lucas.

“Actually, there was something I was hoping I could talk with you about, boss,” Jaemin announced, getting up from his chair.

“Shall we?” He asked.

Jaehyun looked down at the five of us who remained seated at the table before returning his gaze to Jaemin. Without saying anything, he merely made his way out the kitchen door, Jaemin waving goodbye as he followed.  

I took a deep breath and let it out, not intending for it to be as loud as it was. Everyone at the table looked at me with concern.  

“Y/N?” Taeyong quirked.

“I’d like to go back to my room please,” I mumbled, not wanting to hear whatever Taeyong had to say.  

Yuta volunteered to escort me back to my room. Not a word was exchanged between us on the way.

Once I was alone, I settled into my bed and began to softly sob into one of the pillows.

I was so scared of him that I couldn’t even move. I’m so sick and tired of being so weak and defenseless.  

I continued to cry until the tears began to sting my bruised eyes.

I can’t be afraid of him anymore. I need to get stronger. No matter what it takes, I need to survive.

<><><>

“Take a seat,” Jaehyun offered, already seated back at his desk.

“Oh, this won’t take long,” Jaemin replied, choosing to remain standing.

Jaehyun quirked an eyebrow at the staff member before leaning back in his chair.

“Very well. What is it you needed to discuss with me?”

Jaemin got straight to the point, not wasting any time to ease his boss into the issue at hand.

“Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable wearing any of the clothes that were picked out for her.”

The curiosity that had occupied Jaehyun’s features dissipated, replaced with the slightest hint of aggravation.  

“And so, the requests start to flood in,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, sir. What was that?” Jaemin asked, unsure if he was meant to hear his boss’s words.

“So, let me guess, the clothes aren’t good enough for her despite the fact that each article is probably worth more than what she’d make in a year?” Jaehyun sneered, not making any attempt to hide the disgust in his voice.

Jaemin furrowed his brows at the unexpected response.  

“No, sir. That’s the opposite of what I’m saying.”

Now it was Jaehyun’s turn to furrow his brows.

“Hm?”

“Y/N doesn’t feel comfortable wearing clothes of such a high quality, especially when they were paid for by her...” Jaemin paused, hoping that his boss would understand and that he wouldn’t have to finish the less than favorable account of why exactly Y/N didn’t want to wear the clothes Jaehyun had instructed to be prepared for her.  

Jaehyun glared at Jaemin, daring him to finish his sentence, not showing any hint of mercy towards the staff member.

“-captor,” The man finished, doing his best to maintain a professional demeanor while still presenting a strong front.

Jaehyun’s anger unexpectedly dispersed. He sat up in his chair, tapping the desk as he deliberated Jaemin’s words.  

“I’ll send a maid out on another run for her,” He decided.  

“Is that all?”

“Well, boss, that isn’t-” Jaemin began.

“Actually, why don’t you do it since you probably know more about her... tastes. I’ll have Jeno instruct Momo of your absence and let her know that she’ll have the boys for the time being.”  

Jaehyun’s voice was laced with an emotion Jaemin couldn’t quite make out. Was it bitterness or perhaps just irritation?  

“She doesn’t want new clothes, sir.”

Jaehyun’s dusted pink bangs, fell to the side of his forehead as his head tilted the slightest bit.

“Then why are you here taking up my time, Jaemin?”

“She wants the clothes to be removed from her closet and for someone to retrieve her own clothes from her apartment complex.”

“What?”

“Can that be done?” Jaemin pressed on.

“Hold on a minute. Why does she want her own clothes? We could have any article of clothing she wants prepared for her by the end of the day. Hell, we could create an exact replica of her closet if she wanted. Just have her tell us-”

“Excuse me for speaking so boldly and without tact, sir, but it seems as though Y/N doesn’t want any handouts you have to offer her,” Jaemin interjected.

A strange tension filled the air as Jaemin explained his understanding of the situation. Jaehyun seemed as though he were debating amongst himself as he processed this new and unanticipated information. His eyes stared past Jaemin instead of at him and all the younger man could do was wait for his boss’s reply.

Jaehyun took his office phone off its receiver and lifted it to his ear before pressing the 1 on the keypad. A moment passed before Jaehyun spoke up.

“B.I.? Yes, have S.Coups and his men stop by Y/N’s apartment in Hongdae before they return to NEOzone. I want all her things brought back with them. Someone will come by this evening to pick them up.”

After giving his instructions, Jaehyun hung up the phone and looked up at Jaemin.  

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and head to NEOzone headquarters later tonight to grab her things?” He proposed, his face and voice having returned to their usual unreadable states.  

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

<><><>  

After Jaemin exited through his office door, Jaehyun was left to contemplate Jaemin’s words.  

Had he really misjudged Y/N this much? All this time, he assumed that if she wasn’t working with Wayv, that she’d probably cause problems for them by threatening to expose them unless she got whatever amount of money she needed to keep her mouth shut. Yet here she was, not only choosing to forgo making any requests for newer and better things but actively refusing them as well.  

It was enough to baffle Jaehyun to the point of complete frustration.  

What was it that she wanted? Was it possible she didn’t want anything except to go home? To be safe from Wayv’s grasp?

Jaehyun felt a strong urge to leave his office, the walls of which seemed to be closing in on him. He wondered if perhaps a walk would clear his head and allow him to organize his thoughts, but as he wandered through the halls, the weight of his actions finally hit him.

What have I done?  

Images of Y/N’s first night at the estate crept into the front of his mind, but before he could really weigh the impact of his actions, he remembered seeing his sister, naked and shoved into a box that was left on their doorstep.  

He shook the image from his mind and buried it along with any feelings of guilt that threatened to arise.

He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him. After all, there was still a chance that Y/N was working with Wayv.

“Hey, boss.”

Too distracted by his thoughts, Jaehyun had unknowingly walked past the security room where Taeil had set up. Having been woken up from his thoughts, Jaehyun entered the room through the open doorway. Monitors showing live footage of Y/N’s room seemed to make up most of the room’s light with the exception of Taeil’s empty laptop screen. Taeil was holding a mug filled with either coffee or tea, Jaehyun didn’t bother to ask which.  

“What’s she doing?” He inquired, taken aback by the images displayed on the monitors.

“Working out, I assume,” Taeil answered not sounding so sure himself.  

“Why is she so... bad at it?”

They both watched in silence, suffering from secondhand embarrassment as footage of my first attempt at doing a push up since middle school gym played across multiple screens.

“Why is she- What is she-” Jaehyun couldn’t even figure out what to ask, giving up halfway through each unfinished inquiry.

“I don’t know but this has been going on for the last half hour. I was getting some work done since I didn’t really wanna watch her cry, but when she started doing jumping jacks all of a sudden, I couldn’t really look away,” Taeil reported, looking visibly uncomfortable.  

Jaehyun tore his eyes from the screen and returned his gaze to Taeil.

“Crying?”  

Taeil returned to his laptop, quickly reopening a dark colored window with past recordings of Y/N’s room. After muting the current footage, Taeil brought up footage timestamped 1:34, roughly ten minutes after Jaehyun left the kitchen with Jaemin.

Several cameras were installed to ensure there were no blind spots in the room, but the camera that produced this specific footage only provided coverage of the bed and some of the floor surrounding it. For the first few seconds, the room seemed to be empty of any life, until the sound of a door opening was projected from a nearby speaker and Y/N entered the screen’s image. She climbed onto the mattress, wrinkling the neatly made bedspread and sat there silently staring off God knows where. Jaehyun and Taeil watched as Y/N grabbed a pillow and held it tightly against her. She began to cry, occasionally reaching up to wipe away the tears that streamed down her bruised cheeks.  

Taeil paused the video roughly sixty seconds after the sobbing had started and turned to his boss.  

“This went on for like ten minutes, but then look at this,” He said, relaying the contents of the video.

Taeil pressed the fast forward key, stopping the video after a few seconds and then pressed the spacebar to resume.

The screen continued to show footage of Y/N crying, before she abruptly stopped altogether. She rubbed her blackened eyes visibly wincing from the contact. After several moments of just staring at nothing, she then preceded to get up from the bed and disappeared out of view. Taeil took a few seconds switching to another camera, this one showing a complete view of Y/N as she began to start doing jumping jack, like Taeil described earlier.  

Taeil paused the video.

“The next twenty minutes are just of her doing various exercises. She’s alright with cardio, but anytime she attempts any strength training, it ends up looking like, well... that,” He gestured towards the monitors that showed that the current Y/N was still struggling to lift herself back into the air after falling back down.

“She is persistent, I’ll give her that,” Jaehyun observed.

“Makes you wonder how we ever thought she was a part of Wayv,” Taeil laughed.

Jaehyun’s gaze shot back to Taeil.

He was right.

If Y/N was working with Wayv, she would have at least been trained in basic hand to hand combat, right? Yet here he was, watching her get visibly more and more frustrated with herself as she failed to do what even people who aren’t particularly athletic should be able to do.  

The possibility that she was faking it crossed his mind only for it to disappear without a trace when he watched Y/N fall onto her already bruised face, yelping in pain.  

“I think she’s trying to get stronger,” Taeil speculated.

Stronger?  

Jaehyun started to contemplate whatever possible motives Y/N could have for wanting to become stronger, when he felt a heaviness in his chest. A heaviness he hoped to ignore for just a little longer but couldn’t.  

“Hmm,” He hummed.

<><><>  

I woke up to the sound of knocking. A groan escaped my mouth as I turned to look at the clock. My eyes had still not adjusted to being open this early in the morning, so I struggled to make out the numbers that shined in blue light.

5:00.  

Five a.m.? Really?

It was still dark in my room as the sun had yet to rise. I rolled over in my bed and pulled the covers over my head, hoping the person knocking would get the hint and fuck off.  

They didn’t.

Eventually, the door opened, and I could hear footsteps approaching. Instead of feeling aggravated since my slumber was being cut short, I felt an unignorable sense of fear.  

Wayv.

I moved the covers just enough to look at the vanity table. There wasn’t much on it, but I could see the outline of a lamp.  

If I move fast enough, I could grab it and use it as a weap-

“Goodmorning Y/N!”

I screamed as the duvet was ripped from my body.

I stared up at the shadowy figure that stood at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, come on, I don’t look that bad in the mornings, do I?”

The lights turned on and suddenly I could see.

Jaemin continued to stare down at me in amusement as I alternated between looking at him, and Jeno who was standing by the light switch near the door.

“Guess who brought gifts!” Jaemin prompted, pulling a bag of clothes off the ground and spilling them onto the bed.  

“What?”  

“I brought you your clothes!” Jaemin replied as though it were the most normal thing in the world to wake someone up at five a.m. just to give them their clothes.

I looked down at the clothes on the bed and noticed a bag filled with clothes I didn’t recognize.  

I opened it and took out a bright orange hoodie, the tag still attached.  

“I told you I didn’t want any new clothes. Jaehyun will think-”

“Jaehyun doesn’t have to know. He gave me the afternoon off to pick up your stuff, but I noticed that you really didn’t have many clothes to begin with, so I thought I’d supplement your closet a bit. Don’t worry. These are gifts from me and Jeno, paid for with our money, not Jaehyun’s.”

“But-”

“No buts. It’s the least we could do and besides, it’s just a few hoodies. No big deal. Jeno and I wear this brand of hoodie all the time. They’re cheap, but comfier than anything you’ll find in any of the members’ closets.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaemin said with a smile.  

“But that wasn’t why I was saying but,” I began.

“Hm?” Jaemin hummed curiously.

“I really appreciate you bringing my clothes here, and the hoodies are lovely, but why did you have to wake me up at five a.m. to give them to me?”

Jaemin chuckled and looked to Jeno.  

“I’ll let him explain that and while you two are gone, I’ll get started on getting rid of the clothes in the closet and hanging these up instead.”

“While we’re gone?”  

I looked to Jeno for some help understanding what the other man was trying to say. Instead, Jeno walked over to us and smiled.

“Are you ready for your first day of training?

<><><><><>

After leaving me to get dressed in my workout clothes, a simple t shirt and yoga pants, plus a royal blue hoodie that I found in the bag along with the others, Jeno guided me out into the hall way, taking the time to answer my questions along the way.  

“What do you mean you’re gonna train me?”

“I’m in charge of training all the insider staff so that they can double as bodyguards if need be. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t mean why you were going to train me, I meant why are you going to train me?”

Jeno hesitated before answering.

“Don’t you want to get stronger so you can feel safer?” He asked.  

“I mean yeah, but will it be okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I still have a cracked rib for starters and what if Jaehyun finds out?”

“I’ve trained people with worse injuries,” Jeno reassured.

“And you don’t need to worry about Jaehyun. He was the one who suggested it in the first place.”

“What? Why?”

I stopped in my tracks. Jeno stopped shortly after turning around to meet my gaze.

“Y/N, I know you’re probably more than a bit confused right now, but maybe don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? I mean, nothing good can come out of questioning Jaehyun’s motives. For now, just be happy that you’ll have something to focus on for the next few days.

Jeno resumed his steps and so did I. For some reason, Jeno’s words didn’t lend me any comfort.  

<><><><>

“Harder! Hit it harder!” Jeno yelled from behind the punching bag.  

It had been three days since Jeno started training me and somehow each day seemed to get harder and harder. My muscles were sore, and my bones felt like they would turn to dust. This was the routine, wake up at 5:00, warm up for thirty minutes, cardio for twenty, weight training also for twenty, and then the next two hours would be dedicated to basic self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Despite my body feeling like it was one day away from falling apart completely, it looked better than it had in days. My bruises were almost completely healed, and my face had basically returned to normal. Breathing was still hard due to my slowly healing rib, but Jeno refused to let it hold me back as he constantly ordered me to hit harder, run faster, and lift heavier.  

The kind and gentle Jeno I knew was long gone by the time training began, replaced by a mountain of pent up rage and aggression. It was no wonder he was able to stay so unbothered despite working such a stressful job. As soon as he entered the gym, it was like he was releasing every ounce of anger he had built up over the course of his life, and damn there was a ton of it. If that wasn’t enough to get over my crush on him, learning that he and Jaemin were dating threw the whole thing away.  

I once asked Jaemin how he could stand to work out with Jeno when he was like this. His answer was surprising to say the least.

“I don’t know. I kind of like it. He just looks so sexy when he’s mad. Makes me think of all the dirty things I want him to do to me after we hit the showers.”

The rest of my days continued like normal. At mealtime, I would head to the kitchen and eat with everyone at the dining room table. We couldn’t sit at the kitchen table anymore since Taeyong, Taeil, and even Doyoung started to join us, but only because Yuta forced him to come along. The only members who didn’t join us were Johnny, Winwin and Jaehyun. I found myself wanting to ask what was going on with Winwin and Johnny since I hadn’t crossed paths with them since Jaehyun ordered them to stay glued to each other, but I couldn’t muster up the courage. I found myself missing Winwin. Even though he wasn’t the friendliest guy, there was something about him that felt comforting. For some reason I was beginning to find most of the members comforting to some extent even Doyoung’s threats seemed humorous when paired with Yuta’s sarcastic responses. I knew I should feel on guard with them, but after everything that had happened, it was nice to feel like I had friends.

Friends? Oh god. I better not be developing some weird form of Stockholme Syndrome.  

“Hey! Stay focused!” Jeno commanded as he pushed the punching bag into me, knocking me down on the floor.  

<><><><><>

Jaehyun chuckled softly as Y/N fell to the floor mat. He continued to watch through the two-way mirror as Jeno offered his hand to Y/N.  

On the first day of their training, Jaehyun felt a strange urge to go see how things were going so he decided to take a break from his work to check in on their progress. At first, he only stayed for a few minutes, but today, he found himself losing track of time.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” An unexpected voice entered the room.

Jaehyun’s subtle grin abandoned his face, replaced with an irritated scowl.

“I thought I told you I was too busy for any meetings today,” He mouthed, refusing to turn towards the new presence.

“Oh, I can see that, alright,” The voice taunted.

“How did you find me here?” Jaehyun coldly huffed.

“I just rang the bell and that younger member of yours let me in. Mark, was it? After that, I made my way to your office only to find that you weren’t there. Luckily, I ran into one of your staff members, one with a particularly strange hair style I might add, and he suggested I look for you here.”  

After a moment of silence passed and it was clear that Jaehyun wasn’t going to speak, the voice continued.  

“I’m curious as to why you’re allowing Jeno to train her in the first place,” The voice sighed as if it were suggesting something.  

Jaehyun could hear the smirk in the other man’s voice and it pissed him off to no end.  

“Having her know basic defense might serve useful if Wayv decided to break their way in here or if we decided to use her for bait or something,” He explained dismissively.

“Are you sure about that? Or are you perhaps feeling guil-”

Jaehyun finally looked at his unwanted guest.

“What do you want, Suho?”

Suho’s playful smirk morphed into a frown that almost perfectly matched that of the younger man.  

“We have things we need to discuss.”

<><><><><><><>

After training ended, I returned to my room to shower. Jeno decided to finish a little earlier today since he said that breaks were key to gaining progress. I don’t know how finishing thirty minutes early counts as a break in his mind especially with how long our sessions were to begin with, but I was thankful for the extra time I had to relax before heading down to lunch.  

Being able to wear my own clothes was something I was grateful for. It gave me a small amount of power knowing that I didn’t owe anybody anything. It also did a lot to make me feel more comfortable in such an uncomfortable setting. I chose to wear a simple pair of black skinny jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt that hugged at my curves, and my red converse.

I had lunch with everyone being their usual happy selves before returning to my room to rest. Mark was my escort to and from lunch, so once we got back, he and I played several rounds of cards before Yuta barged in.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I playfully teased.

Yuta winked at me.

“You know what they say, you can’t hide anything from your lover.”

Mark and I looked at each other before proceeding to make all sorts of fake vomiting noises.  

Yuta was unamused.

“Anyway, Mark, come on let’s go. Impromptu meeting in the billiards room,” He said suddenly in a rush.

“What about Y/N? Who’s gonna guard her?”  

“Nobody.”

Yuta turned to me.

“Congrats! The boss says you’re officially too old for a babysitter, now let’s go Mark,” Yuta announced before disappearing into the hallway.

Mark promised he’d be back soon to finish the game, but hours past and there was still no sign of them.  

When it was time for dinner, I decided to take advantage of my newfound freedom by making my way to the dining room unescorted. When I arrived, only Jeno and Jaemin were seated at the table. Dinner was mostly quiet. Jaemin explained that the meeting was probably still going on and that’s why we were the only three here. It made sense until Taeyong entered the dining room with a sullen look on his face.  

“Y/N? Are you finished eating?”

I nodded, unsure of what else I could say or ask.

“Jaehyun wants to see you in his office.”

Scared and not knowing what to expect, I asked Taeyong what was going on, but he refused to answer. I got up and followed him. Halfway to his office, we ran into Yuta. He smiled when he saw me and opened his mouth to speak. I was expecting him to say some cheesy pick up line, but what I didn’t expect was for him to just pause before looking down at the floor, moving to the side to let us by. I looked back at him as we walked past, utterly shocked that he had actually decided not to tease me for once. It made me uneasy.

When we got to Jaehyun’s office, Taeyong knocked on the door. Instead of a voice on the other side telling us to enter, the door opened and through it walked out two members of 127 whom I had not seen in a very long time.  

Johnny and Winwin.  

I smiled at them silently. Winwin said nothing and only stared at me. It wasn’t comforting in any sense, but it was better than the pat me on the shoulder Johnny gave me before whispering the words, “I’m sorry.” I watched the two of them disappear down the hallway before a voice I wish I could have forgotten called for us to enter.  

Taeyong led me to Jaehyun’s desk and pulled out the chair for me to sit in. Jaehyun kept his eyes glued to me, only looking away to dismiss Taeyong.  

Once we were alone, Jaehyun silently stared at me as though he were carefully deciding what to say next.

“Y/N.”

I did my best to meet his gaze, careful not to let him notice my uneven breaths which grew shakier the longer he delayed the next few words that would fall past his lips.

“It has been decided that you and I will get married this month.”

What?

#jaehyun #jaehyun au #nct jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun mafia #jaehyun mob boss #nct #nct 127 #wayv #nct smut #nct 127 smut #wayv smut #nct au #nct mafia au #mafia au #jaehyun mafia au #nct 127 au #nct 127 mafia #nct mafia #nct 127 mafia au #nct 127 jaehyun #wayv au #wayv mafia #wayv mafia au #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream mafia #nct dream mafia au #nct dream au #smut

[starlight-writes-stuff]

hello, can i do one of the song request things you wrote about a bit ago? she/her pronouns, with dream, and based on the song 'daisies' by ryan caraveo? also, if you're doing an anon list, can i be 🧿 anon?

welcome 🧿 anon ! i just have to say ,,,,,, this song is immaculate ?? so good ?? will be added to my playlist ?? the concept of this song works perfectly for a fic - i love it so much . thank u for requesting and i really hope u enjoy ((((:

daisies - ryan caraveo

AYO LOOK AT THESE : 2.3k wc , so much fluff ur gonna puke , but nothing other than that . reblogs are always appreciated ! <3

xoxoxo , starlight 

☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁

she earned her grades and i finessed mine

but not so obvious, a c minus is just fine //

she planned for college, i schemed and plotted

---

her friends are pretty, my friends are goonies

but maybe it could all work out like in the movies

---

she like daisies, i'm like gloom

without my rain, she couldn't bloom

she need me, i need her, too

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you and clay (or dream, really. everyone in his life called him that except for you; it was a nickname he couldn't seem to rid himself of) couldn’t have been more different- and yet, the sandy blonde boy had managed to work his way into your head and wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. every time he touched you, whether it was accidental or on purpose, you felt your entire body go up in hot, white flames. your nervous system seemed to light up around him; even the sound of his voice made your heart skip and stutter. when you thought about him, the world didn’t seem so dark anymore. 

when you moved to florida at the beginning of the semester, you’d made yourself a promise: no boys. no hookups, no flings, no situationships. you’d been hurt too many times, and you weren’t in the market to put yourself back out there. and then you met clay.

the two of you were dead opposites. he lovingly described himself as a stereotypical ‘teenage dirtbag’: a lowlife kid who’d struggled through school and had a shitty home life, but has somehow made it into college. he cheated on all his tests and didn’t do assignments; he’d rather skate all his problems away, surrounded by the pack of slobbering boys he called his friends. his idea of a good time was running from the cops. clay was everything that you weren't- carefree, blissfully clueless, and entirely too calm for his own good. 

your whole life you’d been the ‘good girl’: straight laced and perfectly dressed, an academic superstar and all around teachers pet. you came from a happy middle-class home, and your parents kept up with you in a family groupchat. you’d done just the right amount of  extracurriculars to rise above everyone else in your class, but not enough to make you look pretentious, and spent most of your time volunteering. on the off chance that you had an ounce of spare time, you wouldn’t be caught dead at a house party; no, no, you were practicing piano. 

your friendship made no sense, and yet, here you were.

being clay’s friend meant you were never bored. even while he was living through hell at home, he was funny and sweet and brave. he was the first to get you two into trouble and the one to talk you out of it. he was spontaneous and alive and had a good taste in music. once you started to notice the light he got in his eyes as he flew down hills on his skateboard, the way he laughed so hard his voice would dissolve into silence, or the way he would suck on his straw after getting slurpees, you couldn’t stop. then you started to notice every perfect thing about him and it only made it hurt that much worse when he would cry. you started doing anything and everything you could to protect that light in his eyes, to make sure no more tears would ever fall from them.

but you didn’t want to be clay’s friend anymore- you wanted him, in every sense of the word. you wanted all his time and attention and love and affection. you wanted to be that one that made him smile that stupid, crooked smile of his, and make him laugh until he couldn’t breathe. you wanted clay to look at you the way he looked at life- like a challenge, a puzzle that he wouldn’t stop messing with until it was solved. you wanted to call the lanky, troublemaking boy yours, to take him somewhere where he would never hurt again and love him until he wasn’t broken anymore. against all odds you had fallen for clay, hard, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to get up.

little did you know, clay was feeling the same way. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

it wasn’t odd for clay to just show up at your dorm. it was pretty common, really. he seemed to pop in more and more these days, sometimes with friends, sometimes without. you’d more or less been adopted by the group of boys; as far as you’d been told, they had all been friends since childhood. growing up together, the clan had earned the name ‘feral boys’- one that you didn’t want to know the backstory behind. as far as you knew, they were all loud and slightly aggressive but overall sweethearts, and they’d taken you under their wing once it had become painfully obvious that you had no other friends. again, it was an odd pairing; clay, george, alex, nick, karl and… you. but it worked, to say the least.

clay didn’t have any of the other guys with him this time, barging into your room unannounced. you’d been trying to get him to knock for forever, but none of your protests had stuck. 

“clay!” you exclaimed, throwing a pillow at him. you were sitting in your bed, typing away at a psych paper that had been plaguing you for days. “what if i had been naked?”

he fell onto your bed, shutting your laptop with one of his long arms. “then it would be my lucky day.”

scoffing, you rolled your eyes at him while you prayed that your flushed face wouldn’t betray you. his answer made blood swoosh in your temples, your heart skipping a beat before lapsing into an upbeat sort of rhythm. “yeah, sure- good to see you too. what do you need?”

the blonde boy grinned up at you. “since when do i need a reason to stop by? you like my company,” he boasted. clay wasn’t wrong; you loved every moment that he was around, even the most mundane ones. something about him made you feel more alive.

“are you working on something important?” he asked, his voice taking on an unusual sort of tone.

you lifted a brow at him- clay’s voice very rarely changed from his confident, over easy tone, so when he did, you were going to call him out. “no,” you mused, drawing the vowel out. “why? you seem weird.”

clay’s face morphed and fluctuated before he pulled a tight smile. “you really don't miss anything, do you?”

“nope,” you said brightly, transferring your laptop to the nightstand by your bed. clay was jumpier than usual, shifting his weight and repositioning himself three times before finally sitting up, leaning against your wall. he bumped his knee against yours and the slight, innocent touch sent butterflies out of your stomach, soaring into your chest.  

“clay, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice taking on an embarrassingly gentle tone. you realized that he could be having issues at home again and your heart sank- that would explain his odd demeanor. your chest flooded with affection for the boy, your heart achingly soft as you grabbed one of his hands. clay quickly turned your palm over in his, playing with your fingers as he spoke.

“i want to talk to you about something.”

you froze for half a second, swallowing hard. your throat was dry as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“okay. what’s going on?”

biting at his bottom lip, clay’s face flushed with blood. his cheeks took on a rosy sort of pink tone, and he pulled his eyes from yours as he let out a long exhale. he allowed his gaze to settle on the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the old popcorn ceiling with his pupils. 

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

you secretly loved moments like this- moments where clay was too preoccupied within his own head to realize that you were staring, studying his face. he was the kind of boy you could only describe as pretty, all high cheekbones and bright eyes framed by long, golden-brown lashes. you stayed like this for a moment longer, drinking him in; you’d be thinking of him like this for weeks. every time you got a chance to look at him like this, you added another mental painting of him to your art gallery. in some paintings, he was surrounded by soft orange light, usually sitting on a curb or the lip of a halfpipe. in others, clay was painted on soft blue tones, shadows reinforcing the hollows of his face. 

there was one common thread in all the mental works of him, though: he was never looking back at you. in your mind, clay would only ever see you as a friend- the slightly odd girl that had fallen in with him and his groupies. you truly believed that he only perceived you in small quantities- only ever seeing you when you made a rather good joke or fed him something. the rest of the time- the majority of the time you two spent together- you thought clay seemed so enamored by his own mind, or that he was was too busy doing something else to pay you any attention.

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

clay pulled his mouth to one side, face scrunching up before he dropped your hand, letting it fall on the bed.

“i’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff lately.”

you blinked, then looked back at clay, unsure of what this meant. his whole body seemed to stiffen as you looked over him- he seemed uncomfortable, which never happened. you dropped your gaze to your duvet and busied yourself with tracing over the floral pattern, your mind seemingly exploding with thousands of thoughts per second. you, for the first time in your life, felt strained around clay, and it scared you more than you’d like to quantify.

“oh. what kind of stuff? do you want to… talk about it?”

“yeah. no. not really, but i’m going to make myself do it. this thing- the thing i've been thinking about- if i don't get it out,” he said, stressing the words as if they had some sort of deeper, more intense meaning, “will just… consume me. you know?”

you did, but you weren’t sure if it was in the same way that clay was meaning. “sort of.” clay groaned and tangled his hands in his hair, tugging at the roots before letting his head fall into his palms. he made another frustrated noise then pushed himself up and off of your bed, beginning to pace.

something was glaringly wrong; clay only paced when he couldn’t release in any other way. even so, his pacing was more aggressive than usual, more stomping than stepping. clay was quickly working himself into a hole, and you were watching him spiral. you knew that he would only rile himself up more, past the point of stopping himself now. 

pushing yourself to standing, you grabbed one of clay’s wrists- his skin was hot to the touch and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and erratic, thumping under his skin. 

“clay-” 

his lips were on yours, hot and rough and needy and the slighted bit desperate as he knotted a hand in your hair, the other cupping your jaw. you froze for half a second, shock flooding your system, before kissing clay back even harder. you were entirely overwhelmed and you could feel the sharp spurs of desire cutting through your blood, replacing it with the yearning you’d been suppressing for months. his tongue tangled with yours, quenching the thirst that you’d only been adding to with an ease, and a small whimper escaped your throat. 

clay seemed to realize how hot and heavy things had become in a matter of seconds and pulled away, running a thumb over your lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“oh?” he asked, his usual cockiness returning with a force. you weren’t able to form words- much less piece together a whole sentence- so you settled for pressing another kiss to his lips, answering him in the only way you knew how

                                                     ☁ ☁ ☁

the two of you stayed like that for a while, communicating through rough, sugary sweet kisses, hands on hips and chests and necks. after you’d kissed until your lips were sore and you were both out of breath, clay had given you a concerned sort of look.

“was that too much- or too one sided?”

“what? no!”

clay had laughed at the way you’d defended yourself, peppering your face with tender pecks. “so you really do like me, huh?”

“i do. i really do, dream,” you stressed, pressing a kiss to the boys scruffy jaw.

“ew,” he groaned, hitting you with the pillow you’d thrown at him earlier that afternoon. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?”

clay had readjusted, wrapping an arm low around your waist and pulling you to his chest, looking you dead in the eyes. “you’re the only person in my life that calls me clay, you know that? and for some reason, it fits. you and me just… fit. we work. we’re so different that we fit together like a complicated sort of puzzle piece.”

your heart swelled and you looked over clay with pure adoration. “we do seem to work well together.”

“ever since you came into my life, it’s like, i can't function without you. like you’re- you complete me, in a way?”

emotion seemed to drown you, and you pressed another kiss to his lips. “the yin to your yang,” you murmured against his neck, burying  your face in his shirt. 

“i will break up with you if you say that again,” he said, laughing, but you knew it wasn’t true: your story was just beginning.

#dream #dreamwastaken #dream was taken #dreamfic #dream fic #fluff #fluffy #ask #anon #🧿 anon #request #song requests #song #blurb #fic #college au #thats it lol #love u #starlight-writes-stuff

[chosenkeepersworld]

The Curses We Inherit- Chapter 4

Original Work

Date Posted: May 26, 2021 (Tumblr)

Word count: 1, 472 words

A/N: Unbeta-ed work but I hope whoever reads this will like it and let me know what you think. Critique is greatly appreciated. Thanks!

MASTERLIST / PART 3

The heiress' little trip to the bookstore was going pretty well. She took a wrong turn once or twice but eventually arrived at The Quill.

Danika looked around while she waited for the lady at the counter to check for her aunt's package. There weren't many people in the store at this hour, but one person did draw the blonde's attention.

It was a young woman, her hair was dark brown underneath her dark slouchy beanie but Danika could see white dye close to the ends of her hair. She wore a blue hoodie, tan pants and sneakers. The brunette was by the window, flipping through a comic.

The blonde heard the sound of a door opening behind her, she turned to get back to task at hand.

The way back to her aunt's friends' house was the difficult part. Danika wanted to deny it as she walked into another part of town, but it was clear she was lost.

However there was another issue that concerned her.

Someone was clearly following her. Danika's mind drifted to all the stories she heard on the news, of women getting kidnapped while they were on their travels. The heiress picked up the pace, heading towards the mouth of the alleyway. And then there was that unbearable itching in her neck again.

Danika gulped as she heard more footsteps join the ones following her. She started running but it was as if she was just running in place, no matter how hard she pushed herself she just could not get out.

The blonde then felt a hand grab onto her shoulder. Danika screamed and twisted herself away, falling out of the mouth of the alleyway.

Her first instinct was to tense up, to prepare her for the pain that would inevitably come when her body hit pavement. But it wasn't the pavement that she landed on, instead she landed on something else or rather someone else.

The person under her groaned "Son of a...watch where you're going dude"

Danika scrambled off her but the woman's accent grabbed the blonde's interest. It was American. The woman sat up, the blue hood falling backwards. Danika could only blink in surprise.

"S-sorry" Danika stammered "Someone was following me and I just wanted to get away"

The brunette tilted her head, looking into the alley "No there isn't"

Danika looked back, to her astonishment there really was no one there.

The young woman from the bookstore stood, brushing dirt from her pants "Are you alright though? Do you want to go to the police or...?" she trailed off leaning down to pick up a bag.

'No, no um" Danika took a deep breath "I just want to get back to my aunt" she rattled off the description of the house she and her aunt went to.

The brunette stared at her for a moment before a grin spread across the face "Is-is your aunt uh" she snapped her fingers "Aileen O'Brien"

The heiress' eyes widened "How do you know that?"

"The house you described is my uncles'" she held out a pale hand, ice blue eyes alive with "I'm Jac it's nice to meet you"

***********

Danika toyed with the watch on her wrist before unclasping it to reach for her second Pork Slider. Both girls sat at the table of Arman Sanderson's dining room, the housekeeper had set out lunch for the two when they returned to the house. Jac reached for her second slider while Danika spooned more vegetables on her plate when

their relatives came in. Aileen was laughing softly at what her friend was signing.

Jac, who watched the pair come in,started laughing which quickly evolved into snorting. Danika shot the taller girl a questioning look but only received a head shake in response "Trust me, you do not want to know"

It was clear that they had already finished their meeting but there was something Danika still hoped to do while they were still in town.

"Auntie?"

"Yes, Darling?"

"I was wondering if I could stay a bit longer?" she asked "There was a lot about town that I wasn't able to truly take in"

Aileen stared intently at her niece, her green eyes searching the younger woman's face. The look on her Aunt's face was reminiscent of her father's own expression when Danika or her brother would talk to him. It made the younger O'Brien shift uncomfortably.

"Are you sure you'll be alright? You did get lost this morning" she reminded

Danika flushed with embarrassment but Sandy who had been watching the exchange started signing. The blue-eyed brunette turned alert and swallowed "Whoa, whoa, uncle please slow down"

Sandy sighed and repeated himself. Aileen hummed in approval "I think that's a good idea"

All poor Danika could do was look as confused as she felt.

Jac turned to Danika "Well, I hope you don't mind spending more time with me" she grinned "After all I will be your tour guide this afternoon"

*********

Danika grimaced as she and Jac left the store, she felt more and more frustrated each time she came out empty handed. Jachad played tour guide when they left her uncle's home, they had taken a closer look at the places that the brunette knew well, even meeting some of the people the taller girl knew. However Danika took a special interest in some of the local stores that sold accessories and jewelry, but the store never had what she was looking for.

The two eventually took a small break, stopping at a drink stand. Danika sat on a nearby bench waiting for Jac to come back with a local favorite. The blonde felt a twinge of guilt watching the other girl wait in line, she has not been as kind to the girl who had taken her task in stride. Danika's attitude didn't help either.

he could at least do something for her. Danika stood up, intent on going over there and treating the other girl but then there was a shift in the air. It made the hair at the back of her neck stand on end, she could feel someone watching her but at first glance there was no one there, only the large mass of trees and bushes a good distance away from where she was sitting,

But there was something there, Danika squinted and was astonished to find a mushroom by the line of bushes. She walked towards it and she swore she could hear music and as she came closer she could see that it wasn't just a mushroom but a ring of them. At the sight of the ring a distant memory from her childhood sparked but it faded just as quickly as it came.

The music grew louder and voices began whispering in her ear.

"Step into the ring" it whispered, enticingly "We'll have so much fun"

There was no resistance on Danika's part, a light and careless feeling taking over her, muddling her thoughts.

"Just let yourself go and take a step inside"

Danika lifted her foot, going over the mushrooms that lined the ring when something yanked her backward, her thoughts clearing and her body felt normal again.

Jacqueline stood next to her, her hand on Danika's wrist. The brunette raised an eyebrow "Are you okay? I was calling you but you didn't respond" there was genuine concern in her gaze.

Danika had no idea what to tell her, weakly responding "I thought I heard something but I'm fine"

The other girl narrowed her eyes "Okay " she said, clearly not believing her "Whatever you say, dude" she shrugged "Anyway our drinks are over there"

Danika silently followed.

Behind the line of trees and bushes, as both girls walked away, dark figures snarled silently, glaring with hateful eyes.

**********

"You wanna tell me what you're looking for so we can call it a day?"

"I'm sorry?" Danika asked taken aback by the sudden question

They were just about finished with their break when Jac finally broke the silence. The taller girl sucked hard at the straw in her drink, draining the reminder of it " You don't hide your expressions that well, you're clearly looking for something."

Danika hesitated but, at Jac's prodding, told the pale brunette what she needed. Blue eyes blinked after the blonde finished her tale "What does this thing look like?"

It took a moment for her to find it but once Danika she handed her phone over to the other girl.

Jac stared at the image, unblinking. The silence went on and Danika only became more and more concerned the longer Jac said nothing. Then without warning Jacqueline stood up and grabbed the other girl's hand and began leading her further into town.

"Where are we going?" Danika cried

But Jac was only silent as they walked on.

********

Photo Sources:

Canva

Sebastian Conman Photography(Pork Slider)- Unsplash

*********

Tag list: @original-writing @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @dustylovelyrun @woodhousejay

#The Curses We Inherit #The Curses We Inherit Ch 4 #writeblr #original story #original writing #creative writing #writing wip #unbeta'd

[capricornus-rex]

Refuge in Sorgan (3)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Him loving to hear you talk. He could listen to your voice for hours. [source]

Summary: Still on the run after bumping into some of Greez’s old friends, you charted a course to a remote planet in order to seek refuge and replenish some supplies.

1 | 2 | 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

It was time for supper. A warden of Rodik’s approached your cottage, inviting you over to the celebration by the bonfire, both of you exit the cottage and joined the villagers. As you stepped out into the open, a few youngsters approached you and recognized you; in a split second, you realize that these youngsters were the children that you met during your first time in Sorgan. You expressed your surprise on how much they have grown from small boys and girls now into young men and ladies.

“A few more months and you could be taller than me!” you teased a young blonde boy as you patted his head.

A woman walks up to you and offers each of you a bowl filled with a generous helping of food—a combination of grains, oats, vegetables, and grinjer meat—with a complementary beverage.

The two of you found a spot by the bonfire, watching the men play music while the adolescent boys and girls dance in a circle formed by joined hands, the children were singing along with the music. When the music toned down, a little boy shyly approached and then tugged your sleeve.

“Can you tell us a story about what the Jedi do?”

You smiled, endeared by the child’s request and noticed that he had a group of friends behind him with the same request when you peeked over his shoulder. You couldn’t say no, so you tell them to gather round and find someplace to sit. Cal offered his seat to one of the kids and he sat down on the floor with the rest of them.

You gestured to the other children to come join in, when the teenagers saw the little ones huddling around you—they gathered round as well. Apparently, they all have been waiting for you to tell them about your adventures.

“Well, what do you want to hear about? Though, I’ve so much to tell!”

It was a mixture of requests—some wanted to hear about tales of fighting giant monsters in scary planets, others wanted to hear about the Clone Wars and how you fought in it. You decided to throw in a clever compromise: you narrated your mission in Onderon where you had to fight a dispatched army of droids and then eventually fighting off a nasty swarm of wild Rupings with very few men to help you.

“What’s a Ruping?” a little girl asked.

“Well, it’s a big bird but instead of feathers, it’s got scales and sharp teeth in the beak,”

You splay your arms wide to make an impression of its wings with your hands complementing as claws as you describe it to them, then you slowly lowered your arms and attacked the small boy next to you with tickles as you embraced him—pretending to be a Ruping yourself.

The giggles of the children rang amidst the crowd, Cal glanced at their smiling faces and then back to you—thoroughly enjoying your time in sharing your stories. When it eventually became more animated as you continued to use your hands for gestures, Cal’s eyes would wander over your entire person—the way you spoke, how you panned your attention and eye contact with the children including the teens at the back of the huddle, how your eyes twinkled against the flickering firelight, your interaction with them, and how you effortlessly made these kids laugh and smile at impressions, gasp at suspenseful moments, and just excite themselves over stories of grandeur, adventure, and danger.

Cal finds himself smiling at the sight of you around children.

As he too listened, he leaned his cheek over his fist while lovingly staring at you while you kept on telling stories. He could imagine the moments as you retell them—he could hear the lightsaber’s humming, the Ruping’s deafening screech, the firing of the blasters, and the muffled voices of the clone troopers underneath their helmets.

The story transitioned to how you were fighting off the creatures with your lightsaber while the clones blasted it. The children could only imagine the intensity of the battle, a few of them shifted on their seats while some intently propped their chins on their palms as they listened.

You were at the part where you jumped on a Ruping that was trying to gnaw one of the clone troopers to incapacitate it. You left out the part with that trooper already dead to spare them the trauma.

“And then what happened next!?” a child eagerly asked.

“I hit its wing with my lightsaber, I hit it many times but it kept flying, until…” you paused for dramatic effect. “It started to fall down—I had to grab on tight to it!”

The children were eager to know the conclusion to the story; when the Ruping—along with you still mounted on its back—plummeted down, you took a leap of faith when Commander Vim, the clone commander of your squad, caught up to you via the Low Altitude Assault Transport.

“He told me to jump before the Ruping could land, he told me he’ll catch me and…”

You had this habit of pausing at the most suspenseful moments, Cal saw your technique and he’d privately chuckle while seeing the kids gasp and plead for you to go on.

“I jumped.” You spoke softly, but the thrill of that memory was felt through your voice. “And he caught me!”

Half of the children sighed in relief after holding their breaths for that part, the other half cheered—rooting for you to be caught by Commander Vim safely.

“How was it? Falling from a high place?”

“Very scary, but I had to be brave. And when you are brave, you know that you can do a lot of things—even the ones that used to scare you.”

The little ones went hush, but the little “oohs” were audible to everyone else.

“Could you tell us another story? Did you ever pilot your own ship?” an adolescent boy standing in the middle of the crowd asked in the midst of the silence.

“I did,” you smiled. “We even went through a nebula.”

The idea of entering and passing through a nebula was fantastical enough for these young minds. They have never seen the outside of their planet and the vast reaches of the galaxy, but they have an idea of what these stellar elements are—during the rare nights where there are nebulas near enough Sorgan’s orbit to light up the night sky. In the backs of their heads, the youngsters could imagine the iridescence of nebulas, dotted with glittering stars like a piece of luxurious fabric; what more if they could see the inside of a nebula?

“What was it like?”

“Was it bright?”

“Is it true that there are creatures living inside nebulas?!”

The teenagers bombarded you with the questions that you didn’t know which to start with. Eventually, the parents started calling over their children, including the adolescents, lightly scolding their children that they have worked you up with the stories and that you needed rest. The little ones groaned, wanting more; you didn’t want to make promises that could be broken, so you just watched them be shepherded by their mothers and fathers, retiring to their cottages. The parents would glance to you, give you quick smiles, or inaudibly mouth the phrase “Thank you” for entertaining the children.

When the herd has thinned, Cal joined you to his original seat when the child that occupied it has left; a girl with sandy brown hair, perhaps not older than nine years old, approaches—at first she seemed shy and yet persistent to ask or tell you what she needed to. You saw that her mother was waiting way at the back, where the crowd of adults was standing earlier.

“[y/n], miss, do you think I can be a Jedi too?”

Both you and Cal were taken aback by the child’s question, you had to exchange looks with one another before answering her. You look into her eyes and realize that she does not grasp the big picture—but you don’t expect her to. Neither of you could lie to a child. You took her hand—surprisingly, a strong enough surge of the Force flowed within the small body of this little girl. Indeed, the Force flows healthily within her—a vessel pure of heart and innocent of spirit. You smiled, brushing her hair to the back of her ear.

“Yes, little one, you can,” after hearing your answer, never have you ever seen a child’s genuine smile stretch ear-to-ear for a long time. “Just remember: trust the Force, feel for it and it will guide you. Always.”

“Will I ever feel the Force, Miss [y/n]?”

“Yes, you will, but you have to be patient. When you feel it close to you, welcome it. Do you understand?”

She nodded with a smile.

“What is your name?” you asked.

“Elura, miss,”

“Such a beautiful name, Elura,” you cooed, caressing her tender cheek before finally letting her run back to her mother.

Now all that’s left is you and Cal still sitting by the fire. When most of the villagers have retreated to their cottages for the night, both of you relished the serenity of the night—the glittering stars over your heads, the crackling embers of the fire, and the chilly fresh air. Cal places his poncho over your shoulders to blanket you, but instead you shared it with him—snuggling close together with Cal wrapping his arm around the small of your back.

“Wow,” he muttered quietly.

“What?”

“I never knew you were so good with kids,”

You clicked your tongue, “There’s no big difference between younglings and village kids. They still dream of grand things and adventures,”

“Still, you managed to make them sit still for your stories. I don’t know what you did but you gotta teach me that mind trick soon,”

“I didn’t use mind tricks on the kids, Cal!”

“Hey, kidding!”

You softly thumped his chest with the back of your hand as you two softly laughed. He tightened his hold around you. Something has been running in his mind ever since the storytelling session. You sense his thoughts, they were loud but of good intentions.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #cal kestis fic #star wars #sw #star wars fic #sw fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi: fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #star wars jedi: fallen order fic #sw jfo #sw jfo fic #jfo #jedi fallen order #jedi: fallen order #jedi fallen order fic #jedi: fallen order fic #fic #fanfic #fluff #fluff fic #prompt #writing prompt

[whypolar]

YEAH I made Magnus sims. What of it

Images under readmore, open in a new tab to zoom (if it’s still small, change 500px in the address bar to 1280px). Now with image descriptions

[id: Two screenshots of Jon ’The Archivist’ Sims made in Sims 4. He is a thin black man with dark skin and a gaunt face. His hair is cropped short and greying at the temples. He has a short beard and is wearing glasses. In the first screenshot he is wearing an orange sweater with an olive suit jacket, light grey dress pants, and two-tone derby shoes. In the second screenshot he is wearing a white button-down with a plaid green suit jacket, beige dress pants, and dark brown dress shoes. end id.]

Jon was the easiest because my image of him is so specific that I just kind of became possessed by my Vision

[id: A screenshot of Not Sasha made in Sims 4. She is an east asian woman with light tan skin and bleached sandy blonde hair in a bob. Her eyebrows are dark and she is wearing eyeliner and dark red lipstick. She is wearing a long black cardigan with black skinny jeans, boots, and a mauve button-down blouse. end id.]

Not Sasha was just made by tweaking the first random female sim it gave me, which I think is in the spirit of things. I gave her the evil trait lmao

Martin... I’m SO pleased with him

[id: Two screenshots of Martin Blackwood made in Sims 4, showing a front and back view. Martin is a fat man with chestnut brown hair and light tan skin. His hair is long and pulled back into a thick fishtail braid. He has a small goatee and large glasses. He is wearing an unbuttoned grey vest over a white button-down, beige dress pants, and dark brown dress shoes. end id.]

[id: Two screenshots of Tim Stoker made in Sims 4. He is a broad-shouldered east asian man with light skin and mid-length dark brown hair. He has a close-trimmed stubble beard and his ears are pierced with small black studs. He is wearing a black dress shirt and khakis. Hanging over his shoulders there is a blue sweater, with the arms tied around his neck to hold it in place. end id.]

Tim took a lot of messing around and compromise because I had some very specific ideas that wouldn’t be possible unless I searched for custom content. I am too lazy for that. 

[id: Two screenshots of Elias Bouchard made in Sims 4. He is a thin white man. He is pale, clean-shaven and somewhat gaunt, with thin lips. He appears to be middle aged and his hair is greying. He is wearing a cardigan over a white button-down shirt, and dress pants. end id.]

Elias was hard because I don't have a solid visual appearance for him in my head, just mannerisms. I picture him as a disembodied series of smug gestures. I literally do not remember if he’s ever described in any way.

It’s important to me that he be kind of blandly unremarkable on the surface though. Your secret all-seeing murder boss.

I’d like to make more of the characters later, but maybe in different households. Then if I actually finish them I can stick them all in the same world for my domestic slice of life horror podcast simulator

#remibloggue #tma podcast

[gryffinpuffthunderbird]

Tagged by: @batgirl-87.  I actually started on this a while back when I saw it going around, but now that I’ve been tagged, its time to actually finish it.

Tagging: @lady-vossler and whoever else feels like it. I think most of my HPHM mutuals have done it already. lol

Original template can be found here

Details under the cut.

Name: Ember Anna Maria Lee

Hair: Long chestnut brown, straight to slightly wavy depending on weather. She had it cut once, a year before coming to Hogwarts, and she hated it. She’s never let her parents get her hair cut since, preferring to get it trimmed every once and a while.

Complexion: Sort of light olive. A large amount of her heritage includes Italian and French. Though some of her family have darker tones, hers and her siblings’ are lightened by their British/Celtic ancestry.

Wardrobe: Varied, but often seen in warm clothes, as she gets cold easily. She prefers warm, fiery colors, but occasionally goes for blues, as they are rather flattering on her.  She owns a couple skirts besides those for school, but she’s not a big fan of skirts. She prefers pants, but will sometimes go for a dress if she feels like getting dolled up. Having grown up being called a tomboy though, that isn’t often. Usually she goes for jeans and boots. (She likes the ankle support and she hates high heels, even when dressing up.)

Element: Fire. Not only her name, but a fascination of hers. She likes to play with fire. She likes the warmth, she likes how pretty it can be, and respects how how potentially destructive it could be. Like fire, she can be warm or explosive, depending on the fuel. She has a slight temper, but its often gone as fast as it appears, and she’s learned to contain it for the most part. She likes to learn how to make things, transforming something, in a sense, without magic. She is passionate in most things she does, and occasionally reckless.

Season: Summer. Much as she loves her Hogwarts family, and everything magical, she prefers warmer weather. She loves to travel, and some summers she ends up visiting North America with family, sometimes camping in the mountains. But less so since Jacob’s disappearance. Something about the summer makes her feel stronger than ever, even though her recent home life has diminished it somewhat.

Animal: Her patronus is the fox. In her head, she always sees a cross phase coloration to it. 

“Foxes are quick, intelligent and strongly ambitious. Although they are known for their cunning nature, they are very charismatic and easy to love. If your Patronus is a fox, you have an ability to think outside of the box and act quickly during emergency situations. Possessing an incredible amount of wisdom, foxes make for an excellent teacher to guide you through the obstacles of life. “ - Zavvi Article

She is a sometimes reckless, sometimes brilliant oddball with probably a little too much pride. She tries to be positive with the people in her life, even when she should be letting them in a little more in regards to her more negative thoughts. She has anxiety, but ends up using it to think around possible pitfalls rather than freeze at them, and can have a talent for improvisation in said situations.

(fun fact: her happiest thoughts to use for the patronus charm are music with her brother, catching fireflies once as a child, and the first time she flew as a kestrel)

Accessory: Fisherman’s hat. It was a gift from her grandmother. It has gone from a personal fashion statement to a good luck charm. She has worn it during quite a few adventures (The game doesn’t have them so I can’t have her do so, but in my heart I know she does) and she’s pretty sure a majority of her success has been due to said luck.

Texture: Velvet. Velvet can symbolize success, pride, travel, honor, sensuality/deep emotions, a desire to be thought highly of, or luxury(or just plain coziness). She has a red throw blanket that has a velvety texture, though not actual velvet. Her singing voice is sometimes described as ‘velvety’, being rich, full, and smooth. The texture reminds her of many types of animals’ fur, and can be almost as relaxing to have against her as petting a soft creature feels.

Home: I believe she may have an aversion to the very thought of total order and proper organization in her space. Despite this, she has her own system and it works for her. She hates leaving her walls bare (part of the reason her part of the dorm room is covered in art made by her friends). At home the walls are also covered with art, as well as posters and other paraphernalia. She loves dark wood furniture that looks like it could belong to her grandmother, but fun designs on her bedding to add some flavor to it. Her room is very much her sanctuary from the rest of her family or the world in general. Some days, her brother’s room is. She used to spend some time singing along with him as he practiced his guitar. She started to try and learn to play it, sitting in his room like she used to, and practices during the summer, but she hasn’t gotten too far on it yet.

Name: Jacob A. Lee

Hair: Slightly curly light brown/sandy blond, kept fairly short, and usually artfully tousled. Briefly played around with turning it crazy colors via magic, but decided it wasn’t really his thing.

Complexion: Light olive, similar to his sister’s, though slightly lighter. Often considered ‘tan’.

Wardrobe: A lot of acid washed jeans, sometimes with holes torn in them. (Which his parents couldn’t stand)  A lot of band t-shirts, both of the muggle and wizarding worlds. A couple of what I would call ugly sweaters, which were considered fashionable at the time. Chain wallets and his favorite black leather jacket made a regular appearance. He tends to try for something of a James Dean-esque look.

Element: Metal. An element people don’t talk about as much, as there’s less focus on the Chinese elements and horoscopes than the western astrological.

“A person born under the metal element will pursue his goals with a single-minded purpose, and has an unwavering confidence in himself and his ability to attain his goals.“

Jacob is bright and eye-catching in his actions, coming across as extroverted and always onto something interesting. He has made for a good leader at times in the past, being stubborn, decisive, and determined. Doesn’t allow much to block his path for long and rather unbelievably gutsy, he likes to do things his way, even if it means striking out on his own. He can be a caring and devoted person to some, but can become cold and unyielding to others. Would probably have made a very good Slytherin, but his values veered more towards general honor and glory than actual ambition for a specific outcome.

Season: Autumn. Harvest weather injects the fun summer heat with a bit of a biting chill. A feeling of becoming driven rises as people work hard, determined to prepare for the coming cold. Its a time of bringing on change, whether for better or worse. Jacob is intense and at times fiery, but as described before, capable of a shuddering chill. His motives are partially to bring about change, and sometimes he doesn’t really consider what effect said change will have on those around him. 

Animal: His patronus and animagus form are both the Raven. A bird that is highly intelligent and capable of complex socialization, but often flies solo. They are said by many to be connected to fate and extremely good luck, though they’re most often seen as an omen of death or disaster. They can symbolize secrets, change, and innovation.

Accessory: Black leather and wood bead wrap bracelet. While brainstorming, or hiding nerves, Jacob could often be seen fidgeting with the beads or tugging the leather straps. He doesn’t often talk about where he got it. it was a gift from a muggle friend he’s known since before Hogwarts, handmade by the crafty kid, given to Jacob to keep with him during his time away “at boarding school”. They still hung out during the summers, but since Jacob’s time at Hogwarts took place during the height of the first Wizarding War, he keeps his close friend a secret from the magical world.

Texture: Leather. Flexible, though unyielding. Can be changed into many shapes, but strong enough to have been sometimes used as a type of armor. Soft though also rough. It symbolizes power and protection. And his favorite wardrobe aesthetic, seeing as it also describes his favorite jacket.

Home: Unlike his sister, Jacob kept his room at home fairly neat and tidy (as far as she remembers. She doesn’t remember it very well before his time in Hogwarts. Its hard to make a room messy when you spend most of your time away and don’t like to keep all of your things where everyone knows to look for them). He does keep his collection of vinyl records and mixtapes in his room, along with a guitar he played regularly until his disappearance. His room was a place he’d often hide out in when feeling overloaded by everything, and a safe place for his sister to come to when she needed comfort but didn’t want to go to their parents.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #hphm jacob #ember lee

[themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy]

What is the outsiders? So that I'm knowledgable

HOOOOOO LETS GO!!! So the outsiders is a novel written by S.E. Hinton in 1967 about a neighborhood that has been taken over by gangs. You have the socs who are the ‘spoiled rich kids’and the greasers, the more hoodlum type. The novel focuses on a gang of seven greasers, more specifically three of them, as things finally get pushed too far with the social statuses. I want you to read the book, so I’m not going to spoil anything, but I will introduce you to the greasers and show you what they looked like in the movie. :)

So the book opens with a famous line that was supposed to be written by the main character, Ponyboy Curtis.

Fourteen at the time, Ponyboy Michael Curtis was described as having “light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes,” and wears his hair “longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in the back and long at the front and sides.”

He is portrayed as the sensitive one in the book, a writer and a lover of watching sunsets. At one point in the book, he recites the poem, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. The line, “Stay Gold Ponyboy” comes from this.

He also, throughout the course of the book, is seen to fight quite often with his oldest brother, Darry.

Next we have his slightly older brother, Sodapop Curtis.

Sodapop Patrick Curtis is sixteen years of age while the events of the book are taking place, and he is the middle Curtis child. He is described by his brother Ponyboy as being happy-go-lucky, but we also know that as much as Ponyboy loved Sodapop, (he was described as his favorite person!), he really didn’t know all that much about his struggles.

We find out later in the book that his girlfriend, Sandy, is pregnant with another man’s child, and leaves the town to raise the baby, even though Sodapop was willing to raise the child as his own with her through marriage.

Sodapop works at a gas-station, the DX, and we find out that he has dropped out of school to help his older brother pay the bills since the car-wreck that killed their parents.

Now for the oldest Curtis brother, Darrel.

Darrel Shaynne Curtis of 20 is the oldest brother and therefore legal guardian of the Curtis brothers. His hair is said to be like his father’s- dark brown that sticks out in the front of his head with a cowlick in the back. His eyes "are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice.” He is said to look exactly like his father, but with different eyes. Also, he looks older than his actual age, which is twenty. Ponyboy says he would be better looking if his eyes weren’t so cold.

That was stolen from the outsiders wiki page, but only because I couldn’t find his physical description from the book. He is the brother that Ponyboy is seen to fight with a lot, but not sibling fights, more in a way you would fight with a parent, grades and curfew and such. Seeing as after they are orphaned, Darrel becomes their legal guardian, this style of fight makes sense.

Now we’re going to move on to the other members of their gang of friends, ones that aren’t related.

Dallas Tucker Winston is the tough one.

As much as we want him to become sensitive in the end, he really doesn’t change as a person. He breaks, and there were severe consequences from this breaking. He isn’t ever really able to experience love from anyone, the kid with a tragic backstory, horrendously abusive parents, and little to no will to live. He is seen as a player, but it’s important to remember that he wasn’t just a horny teen. He was pissed when his girlfriend used to cheat on him, so that makes me think that he really wouldn’t be the cheating type. He was vital to the story though, the book would have only been about thirty pages had he not been there to help. Although he was raised on the harsh streets of New York, he seems to offer helpful advice, albeit somewhat extreme.

In the book, Dallas Winston is said to have an elfish face with high cheekbones, a pointed chin, small, sharp animal teeth, and ears like a lynx. Dally didn’t like haircuts nor hair oil, so his almost white-blonde hair fell over his forehead in wisps. He had blazing blue eyes which Ponyboy describes as “cold with all the hatred in the world.”

Steven Lucas Randle is Sodapop’s best friend and co-worker at the gas station.

(This is my favorite picture of him, only Steve could look that hot while having chocolate cake smeared across his face whoop)

Steve is seen as hating Ponyboy, and most people hate him for this. It is my personal opinion that Steve sees how Ponyboy takes Soda for granted, sees how Soda’s problems are ignored while Pony’s are discussed, and resents the child itself rather than the issue. 

It is also important to remember that Steve is only a part time worker, and still regularly attends school. Steve has an abusive father and has a girlfriend, Evie, who we do not get to see. 

Keith Mathews, or, “Two-Bit” is seen as the comic relief.

I believe he is more than that. He is shown to truly be concerned when Ponyboy is dangerously on edge, and is known to hide his depression with jokes. He has a younger sister, but we do not get to see her either. 

He is an alcoholic, chocolate cake lover, kleptomaniac and from what we know, A VERY MESSY BOI. He is eighteen and in junior year, and just likes to go to school for the hell of it.

He loves Mickey Mouse with all of his soul man it’s intense. His shirts in the movie are often Mickey shirts and he is seen to go to the movies and make a game of flipping girl’s skirts up, not to mention he is great at impressions, making Ponyboy and Johnny believe for a second that he was an angry soc coming to hurt them.

He is said to have a thing for blondes, although the girl that he hit on, in the movie at least, was a brunette. He was around six feet tall, stocky in build, and was very proud of his long, rust-colored sideburns. He has grey eyes and was always wearing a wide grin.

Now for the “kicked puppy” of the group, Johnny Cade.

I’m going to start off by saying that he has ridiculously abusive parents. His house is shown at one point and you can hear screaming from inside. He goes up to the front door to turn in for the night and is shoved back out, his mother behind him with a broom, screaming about how he shouldn’t be there.

He is also amazingly caring, the only one Ponyboy can really talk to, and I believe he is the only person that Dallas Winston loved, that’s why he broke. 

 "Johnny was smaller than the rest, with a slight build. He had big black eyes in a dark tanned face; his hair was jet-black and heavily greased and combed to the side, but it was so long that it feel in shaggy bangs across his forehead. He always had a nervous, suspicious look in his eye. Johnny reminded Ponyboy of a little puppy that had been kicked too many times. Because of his parents, and the socs abuse, and all of the trouble that comes from being a greaser, he is extremely jumpy and when Two-Bit scares them at the movies, mentioned above, he physically jumps and Keith has to calm him down a bit.

All in all, the outsiders is fabulous and go read it thank you for coming to my ted talk

#Ponyboy imagine #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy Curtis x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #soda x reader #sodapop curtis #soda #darrel curtis x reader #darrel curtis #darry curtis #Darry Curtis x reader #do it for johnny #johnnycade #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #two-bit matthews x reader #two-bit mathews #two-bit #two-bit imagines #Two-Bit Mathews x reader #steve randle x reader #steve x reader #steve randle #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston #dally winston