#also the older and older I get the more terrified I am of how THIN I was as a kid

[applecherry108]

I found my old (privated) YouTube videos that I made in high school.

How in gods name did no one ever realize I was autistic. 😭😭😂

Update: I have video fucking evidence from March 17 2009, nearly EXACTLY 14 YEARS AGO, of my dumb adhd ass forgetting what I was saying mid sentence. 🤦‍♀️ I am naming objects. I had to pick up the last object I literally put down and name it again in order to fucking remember what I was saying. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ HOW. HOW DID NO ONE KNOW. 😩

#I….was SO awkward. I’m just filming myself talking for my little deviantart friends and I’m so fucking cringe and nervous #I also can’t tell if it’s the video quality (or if I had my braces still??) but I sound like #*lispy. also it turns out I’ve always fumbled my words. like. always. 😅 #god you can feel the anxiety radiating off of me #also the older and older I get the more terrified I am of how THIN I was as a kid #why was no one concerned that I was very obviously underweight??? #my arms especially like my arms have always been thin but fuck dude. they literally look like they were nothing but skin and bone #AND IM 18 IN THE VIDEO IM WATCHING 😨😨 #god just. everything about my body was so disproportionate like it screams ‘medical condition’ #anyways it’s no shade to baby me (‘baby’ I say about me at 18) she was having fun and having panic attacks #but being medicated and fat is literally so much better it gets better sweetie eat more red meat #apple talks #to the tune of spam #one of these videos I’m 16 and like ??? what’s wrong with my lip?? it looks swollen??? #I think I had braces in that video but I s2g those fuckers fucked up the way I talk in ways I’m still recovering from

[peterlorres21stcentury]

I had written even more in my outline but it was messy as hell; this is the cleaned-up version if you can believe it

Sins of Abundance: a story of gluttony. (thank you @peterlorrefanpage for encouraging my silliness :D ) I've had all this in mind just sitting around in a file and I need to write an actual story about it. Fair warning, it will be very silly. The following is just a story treatment, and I cut some things like whole exchanges of dialogue so you wouldn't have to read through rough first-draft nonsense:

A new servant arrives in a fictional village, in the service of the eccentric Baron (whom she has never seen) and the first thing she notices is that every single person in the tavern is quite fat. From the plump young barmaids to the extremely fat and jolly innkeeper, everyone is a person of size and they seem to love it. Everyone is having a great time. When she asks for directions and advice, and the other patrons find out she’s one of the Baron’s new girls, they all seem to think this is funny. “But she’s so thin!” one bluntly calls out, a little sloshed with too much beer. “She won’t be for long,” his friend jokes. No one will explain any further and she leaves feeling puzzled and a little bit worried.

She has heard the stories, of course. How the Baron has an eye for beautiful women, and so employs only women in his estate. She fully expects him to be the typical wealthy old lech, if it weren't for his reputation of being far more interested in eating and drinking. Allegedly it's not exactly sex he's after, but there is one strange thing he demands of his servants: a soothing belly rub after every meal. Allegedly.

She doesn’t even get to see the Baron that night. He is supposedly ill, so all discourse is handled by his loyal retainer Celia, an older, rather severe and stately woman who handles all his business affairs. Sometime later, as the maid is wandering the dark and mysterious halls of the mansion unable to sleep during a summer thunderstorm, she is frightened by a huge lightning flash that reveals a towering shadow on the library wall. It’s the Baron, seemingly recovered enough to come down to his study for something to drink. He can’t sleep either. The girl is at first terrified of his severe demeanor, but that turns out to be a front and a little prank on his part. He is much kinder than that, as she will soon discover.

But until she realizes the truth, the new girl imagines all sorts of horrible things. She is frightened to death the first time she gets stuck with belly-rub duty after dessert, but after some amusing misunderstandings, she realizes exactly what the Baron wants... and she loves it. She was secretly attracted to the chubbier men, though she would never admit it out loud, and now here's one who takes so much pleasure in eating until it hurts. She considers it a privilege to retreat with him to his quarters after a really rich meal and give his aching belly the most loving attention he's ever had, and she rests on top of him as he sighs blissfully.

Later, she stumbles upon a secret: the Baron is the last of a very old family and has no heir. His beloved wife died many years ago, leaving him alone with only his servants and Celia for company (I had a dream about this story in which Celia said: "I have served the Baron faithfully for many years. I am very fond of him, but tradition dictates I cannot marry him").

The new girl also discovers, through reading the family history books, that the Baron wasn't the only gourmand in his lineage. They all were, including those who married into the family, and even some of the favorite servants! Every single one of them got to be impressively fat. His family records speak of ancestors who reached truly enormous sizes in a time before mass-produced snack food, and there are even amusing references to those who allegedly ate so much they exploded, however the Baron dismisses those stories as merely apocryphal. “In my family, I would be considered on the thin side,” he says slyly.

How was all of this possible? The Baron explains that one of his ancestors was into alchemy, or sorcery, I'm not sure which, but he created a formula that turned out to be a weight-gain powder and flavor enhancer (magic, I guess. We'll call it "spice" because I love referencing Dune at every opportunity, and there's also a fat Baron, so). Oh and also it made the crops more abundant or something, so there's more food for everybody. Through the years, as science improved, the Baron's family passed down the secret of making the stuff and continued using it as a sort of cultural signifier of abundance and wealth--if you belong to this family, you're going to be fat n' happy because the spice is in everything, sorry that's just the way it is. In any case, this probably explains why the majority of people that the maid first met in the village were all at least plump, with more being outright fat.

The last Baron decided that he would never use the stuff on anyone without their knowledge, but he still loves eating and sharing this enjoyment with others, so he makes certain demands of his servants (like the belly rubs) to determine who would be 100% into this kind of thing. Sometimes he invites them individually to the dinner table, or if he’s feeling really fancy, he orders a big feast and invites the servants to join him. The servants usually find it overly familiar and baffling, but the newest one loves it, and is starting to feel more and more open to the idea of gaining some weight.

The Baron is delighted at the chance to transform her, but at the same time he can tell she is nervous beyond belief. At first the Baron pretends not to notice her awkwardness, but later he does comment: “My dear, I can’t help but notice that you are so very flustered every time we meet. Do I frighten you?” The maid gulps. It doesn’t help that the Baron has leaned far back in his plush seat, pushing out his magnificent stomach, pressed taut against his elegant waistcoat. She stammers something about not being frightened but she turns even redder just thinking about how wonderfully big and round he must be under that tight vest, and she can’t stop thinking of running her hands all over him… she is forced to flee as soon as the Baron dismisses her, throbbing with arousal and shame.

Nonetheless, she finds herself increasingly excited by the idea of growing bigger all the time. Maybe she might get to be as regal and plump as the Baron’s beautiful late wife, whose portrait hangs prominently in the banquet hall. She wears an old-fashioned Empire-style dress the color of coral roses, and the portrait includes a depiction of her favorite dog, a fat smiling dachshund that looks like a happy little sausage roll.

Somewhere in here is a scene where she’s hungry while serving a rare social meal with neighboring nobles and is forced to stand there and serve while they eat. Her tummy is not happy. Everything smells wondrously good and she must wait, stomach rumbling impatiently. She prays no one heard that, but the Baron did, right as she stood next to him to refill his glass. She holds herself stiffly, tightening her abdomen to muffle the sound and wishing she could disappear, but the Baron only smiles knowingly to himself, and sends her a look of pity as Celia sends her off.

Then one day, near-disaster, or so it would seem: the maid calls him by an unflattering local nickname (“Baron Bauch”) by mistake one day and is horrified, but the Baron actually laughs—after several seconds of frowning at her, but he was only teasing her. “Don’t worry, I know all about what they call me. I have heard much worse, and you are lucky I am not the sort of person to care about it. And anyway, we are no longer living in the days when you could be imprisoned for saying something mildly unflattering.” He is amused enough by her embarrassment that he invites her to her first real dinner; a private one, as the only guest.

After the first sumptuous meal with the Baron, the maid feels like she’s going to pop, even as he expresses some disappointment that she didn’t finish everything. “No matter. You’ll get used to it in time,” he says. He gives her some pure butter shortbread cookies for dessert and pours out some clear liquor from a crystal decanter. “Here, take this.” She looks at it, hesitating. It smells faintly fruity and it has a curious light blue tinge to it. “What’s the matter? Ohoho, what do you think, it’s poison? Don’t worry. Only a digestif. It’ll make you feel better.” He swallows a shot, just to reassure her, and so she tries it. Almost immediately it does something to soothe her insides. Everything instantly loosens up and her stomach doesn’t feel tight or achy anymore. She feels almost stretchier. Relaxed, she lets out an involuntary burp and sends her a look of pity as Celia sends her off.

In a little while he plans to retire to his chambers with Celia for a belly rub but the maid can’t help but speak up: “Please let me!” she squeaks. The Baron looks her over with interest, but tells her perhaps another time. He promised Celia this night.

She leaves, burning with need for him, but she does what he commands. They continue this ritual for some time, and the maid becomes a lot more adept at eating mass quantities. One night, she and the Baron decide to have a friendly eating contest, and the result is pretty close. They both have to push themselves until it hurts, and they spend the rest of the night trying to comfort each other’s bellies. It’s the most satisfying experience of her life, and the Baron does all he can to encourage her. He wants her to eat as much as she can hold, and really enjoy that tight bursting sensation as something right and natural, and unbelievably erotic. “Isn’t it a good feeling? That exquisite ache... it’s what I live for,” he sighs. She agrees, at the height of her passion, and it leaves her shaking and pulsing all over.

They gradually fall asleep together to the sound of a surging, drenching rain pattering on the roof. It rains so hard that the view out the bedroom window is almost white, the wind whipping through a heavy gray curtain of falling rain. Thunder roars close by, making her shiver. “Are you frightened?” sighs the Baron, drawing her closer. “Don’t be. This is the time of year for rain, but we are quite safe here. Yes, quite safe. So warm and dry, and full…” She cuddles into his cushy belly and her fear ebbs away.

I don't know what happens after this, if anything.

#writing #draft #story treatment #literally just mental images and not even a plot

[rumblebumble22]

I want to be old, and I explain why

There are a lot of stereotypes about old people. Many of us think they are incompetent and unable to enjoy life, depressed and miserable. But is it true? I did a bit of research and realised that these people are one of the happiest and most fulfilled groups of the world population. It turned out that these people live a calm and joyful life. But why in our world is everyone so terrified of the prospect of becoming older? In my opinion, there are stereotypes which prevent us from seeing aging as it is — a natural process which no one of us can avoid. 

Modern beauty industries sell us the idea that only youth is beautiful and only young people deserve love and care. On TV and on the Internet we see attractive models with thin waists, skinny belly and smooth skin. There is almost no representation of old people in the mass media, did you notice? There is only energy, health, and liveliness on the faces of teenagers and young adults. It seems like beauty industries associate these concepts only with youth. 

Anti-age. Doesn’t this word sound weird to you? What do surgery clinics and cosmetics companies mean by this word, actually? Does they try to convince us that the laws of nature are wrong and we should turn time back? I think it is ridiculous. It’s like when I am 29, I suddenly wish to be a 12-year-old girl again. Why should I want it? Why anyone should want something like this?

But I can explain how it works. Beauty companies instill women with fear that nobody will love them if they become old. They told us that smooth skin is beautiful, whereas wrinkles and gray hair are ugly. I just wonder, does anybody really believe in that? Because seriously, these companies just make money this way. I searched how much surgery clinics earned on liposuction, botox and facelifting and goddamn, these numbers exploded my mind. Companies make money on women’s fears, and women obediently go under the surgeon’s knife or waste money on expensive and useless creams. Is it actually legal? 

After all these horrific facts I found old people’s opinions, where they explain their perception of life. It turned out for me that actually the older we get, the happier we are. Aging has some unique benefits which are unavailable to you when you are young. For example, when you become old you really don’t care anymore what people think about you. You can say what you really think, wear weird clothes or sniff cocaine. It's up to you and your imagination. No one will condemn you as much as if you were young. 

Besides, you can relax more. Nobody expects you to join the gym, become a parent or build a career. Why? Because probably you already do some of these things and if you didn’t, who cares now? You are too old to start this kind of serious project. No one can tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, because it’s just not appropriate to tell things like this to old people.

Also, with age time became shorter, so you begin to comprehend life as it is. Stupid problems and unimportant concerns doesn’t worry you anymore. Sunsets, conversations with friends, walks in the nature: all these things become more precious to you. You simply start to appreciate everything around you more and understand that life is a treasure. 

Also, since with age you get more skills and understanding of life, you become wiser and calmer. Probably, you have more financial security and free time for hobbies and interests than you had when you were young.  Thus, you become more happy and can live as you like. 

 I think we should give more attention to aging and get rid of our prejudices about old people. Firstly, the despair of aging is simply a lie, and secondly, it’s not fair in relation to old people. Old age might be happier than we actually think, and I am waiting with curiosity for the days when I become an elder. 

#aging #aging process #habits #nutrition and aging #female #eldercare #old people #psychotherapy #psychology #opinion #self care #culture #reading

[not-scared-of-microwaves]

i feel like i’m losing everything when i only just got it back.

i’m a dancer. that has been a huge part of my identity since i was seven years old. i lost that after corona virus hit, and last semester, i finally started dancing again.

it was the most amazing feeling. dance has always been an escape for me, a way of setting aside everything that was fucking up my mental health etc. has always been this source of joy even when everything else sucked.

around thanksgiving, my hips started to pop and crack. i’m hyper mobile—this isn’t unusual for me. it also wasn’t unusual when they started to ache constantly. my joints always hurt.

but then it got worse. by the start of this month, i was limping bc of how much it hurt. a week after that, i’m barely walking at all, because now my knees and back were effected. Monday, my hip dislocated. it didn’t particularly hurt, and it went right back in place on its own (i’ve always been able to pull my hips and shoulders out of place at will) but after that, it started happening out of nowhere.

today i nearly fell down the stairs twice, because my hip fell out of place and my knees buckled. i caught myself on the rail, but it fucking terrified me. i could live with not taking the stairs, but now the same thing happens when i’m just walking.

my nurse practitioner referred me to physical therapy, but they can’t see me until january, and she inly talked about the fact that i was in pain, she didn’t take the joint collapse seriously. maybe she thought i was being dramatic.

i’m making another appointment tomorrow. my therapist has suggested i ask about hyper mobile ehlers danlos syndrome. from what i’ve read…it makes sense.

and i’m fucking angry. maybe if we had found it sooner i would be dancing next year. maybe i wouldn’t be losing the one thing that brings me joy in my fucked up head if my doctors had noticed my joints all bend backwards (it was my dance teacher who pointed it out and gave me exercises to improve my strength), or that i’m in constant pain because of it, but they were too busy telling me to eat more because i’m tiny and underweight. they prescribed me meds to improve my perfectly normal appetite rather than telling me it isn’t normal to black out when i stand up (oh yeah my therapist wants me assessed for PoTS too)

actually i’m mad about the weight thing too. people think that because i’m thin (size 2 atm) it’s ok to comment on my weight. it’s happened twice in the past two days. this is why i hate the holidays. i don’t want to hear about how you wished you looked like me—not even doctors want me to look like me. they’ve asked me if i’m anorexic, put me on meds for my appetite, taken me off effective depression meds because i was losing weight, sent me to get my growth hormones tested. it isn’t fucking fun. i am terrified of seeing myself in the mirror because of it. it makes me so incredibly uncomfortable to hear people comment on it, treat it like a good thing, or tell me “it’ll catch up with you when you’re older.” it ignores all of the struggles i’ve experienced because of it, and is frankly not any of their business.

i just. i only just got dance back, and now i’m losing it.

edit: i think it’s actually that it’s actually subluxation not dislocation. idk exactly? but they certainly aren’t where they’re SUPPOSED to be,,,,,,

#vent #tw ed #tw body image #ehlers danlos syndrome #hypermobile ehlers danlos #pots syndrome #ballet #dance

[gaenarirp]

hello, everyone!

we are way over the target of 10 accepted applications, so it is this admin's greatest pleasure to announce our official (re)opening date!

gaenari will open for interactions on thursday, oct 19, at 9pm est.

as per the guidelines, applications will be accepted this week until 8pm est on thursday; any app sent after that will be looked at for acceptances next week.

thank you so much for your interest in this little town. we have received so many reservations and incredible applications in the 10 days we've been in the tags! as gaenari begins to take form, i look forward to all the fun we'll have together.

that said, the main has received several messages wondering about possible plots for this roleplay, so i wanted to touch on a few points:

as a reminder, we have a wanted connections page! everyone can submit one for either accepted muses or general ideas for new characters.

we have a channel on our discord server for interest checks, that everyone can use to try and get a feel of a possible muse or connection! on that note, everyone is welcome in the server, whether you've been accepted to the directory or not.

nearly half of our skeletons are taken! once we hit around 75%, more will be revealed.

lastly: below you can find the remnants of the canon characters i created for gaenari in its first run. this time around, i decided to not go forward with canons and instead let my muns fully shape this town, but i am still very fond of these ideas and i don't want them to go buried in my documents forever. these will not be added to skeletons or subplots in any way, and they are free for everyone to use without permission, in this roleplay or any other. ♡︎

an older sister plagued by ghosts, who spends her days with books and the voices in the forest. a younger sister who used to believe in fairytales, but grew up in resentment to take over the family construction business.

two high school best friends who have known each other their entire lives. the girl is older, handy and practical, and has always liked the boy. the boy is younger, naive and idealistic, and is afraid of losing the girl's friendship. a third friend shows up from the incheon docks, and despite feeling misplaced in this little town he ignites feelings - positive and negative - in the other two.

he was a local baseball star in his youth, but he gave up his career to look after his father who forgot to function without a wife. his first love escaped to seoul without him, and he settled with a fiancée that had always wanted his affections. now, the ex-girlfriend is back in town, and he is not sure if this uneventful life is what he wants anymore.

she is not from here, but the ghosts in the mountain are less terrifying than her father. here, she found love and friendship, and bandmates to play out of local garages. her ex followed her here, and she ultimately enjoys their company when their anger is under control; deep down, however, she fears her father might have also found his way here.

they are wanderers, twin flames that consume one another with each kiss and every touch. they have been through thick and thin, they have assumed many identities, and they have held hands through it all.

these families weren't here from the start, but they settled in right after the mines closed to bring sportmanship to town, and they have been here since. two of the families run rival dojos, and are the best of friends on the side; there are five siblings on one side and four on the other. the third family is made up of four strays from different marriages, united by their bond and creativity. thirteen people total, two marriages in the past five years and another one being planned - there are always strong feelings abound when it comes to them.

she has loved her best friend's brother ever since she laid eyes on him. he has loved her since she first had a sleepover with his sister. they are soft and mellow, and unable to confess, no matter how much everyone around them begs them to get to it. eventually, he is swept off his feet by another, and she watches as he is deceived and played by a woman that has another on the side. she stays quiet until she finds out this other person is her own brother.

#gn:announcement #hi anon who just sent a message about an opening date as i was typing this!

[councilingmychaos]

Scene Seven

It didn’t take long before I was in the village. Just one turn, then a straight shot. I followed my GPS to the home goods store. Everything looked so old, and worn, but in a very beautiful way. Every building seemed as though they could tell a story. I admired them as I reached Gerty’s. The beautiful brick had some moss and plants growing up the sides of it, which added to the beauty. I stepped inside and was instantly greeted by an older lady.

“Welcome my dear, is there anything specific you’re looking for?” She asked, her soft tone had a bit of warmth to it. I gave her a faint smile and nodded.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for a comforter set for my dorm room.” I spoke softly, since the place was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Ouu a college girl, we get a lot of them.” She said with a smirk, “Follow me, we actually have a college section.” She added, leading me towards one corner of the shop. Low and behold, she wasn’t kidding. A whole section dedicated to college students. It had bedding, shelves, small appliances, storage containers, and pillows that were sucked so tight into a bag, you’d think they were super thin. The sweet old lady made sure to tell me they fluffed right up once you opened it.

I grazed through things, waiting to find something that stuck out to me. I found a dark maroon bed set that came with a couple extra throw pillows. I grabbed that, as well as a couple of storage containers for my dresser and my desk. I also grabbed two lamps, one for my bedside time, the other also for my desk. I then found a round mirror with a black frame and grabbed that to hang on the closet door.

Once I felt like I had everything I’d need from this store, I checked out and headed down to the small boutique to get a few more outfits. You’d think with the amount I just bought, and the fact that I’m walking home, would be enough to tell me not to buy anything else. I was already going to struggle with what I have. Getting a few more outfits was a must though, just enough to hold me over until I head back for a visit. I looked around, finding more than I needed. My favorite colors were dark, or neutral. Everything I owned, or bought was some variation of those colors. I found 3 outfits that I liked, that would also work if I mixed them up between each other. I wasn’t very fashionable. I usually just wore what was comfortable, and fit.

A lot of my clothes were from Angie, as well as whatever Angie was given by family members. I had always liked the older style, stuff my grandmother would wear. I grabbed a pair of slippers, and a pair of plain black sneakers before heading to the checkout counter with my items. I was surprised at how inexpensive everything was. I definitely expected things to cost a lot more, since they are in a small village and need to make as much money as they can, to stay open. Or maybe I’m just too ignorant still. There is so much I don’t know, it actually terrifies me.

The last store I needed to go to was the grocery store. I needed to get showering items, as well as other essential items. I also wanted to get some snacks to keep in the room. I am more of a snacker than I am a meal eater. This is probably the main reason I am small, but I also never have an appetite. I headed into the store, grabbing a cart and placing my other bags inside the big part of the cart. I didn’t need a lot, so hopefully I was in and out.

Somehow I managed to spend over $100 at the grocery store. Food seemed to be more expensive than anything else I bought today. I decided to combine some of my bags in order to have less hanging from my arms. Still, I’d have to manage with multiple bags on each arm. Once outside, I realized how much I didn’t want to walk back now. Not only were these bags heavy, but it was getting dark. I’m terrified of the dark, always have been. Things in my past traumatized me, so now I associate bad things happening with darkness.

I took a deep breath and headed towards the way I came, forgetting to turn on my GPS beforehand. I walked slowly, trying to remember the objects that surrounded me. I did okay for a while, until the street lights turned on, indicating that it had become darker. I picked up my pace and kept going, completely oblivious to the things around me.

As I quickly walked down the road, I passed a couple of sketchy looking men lurking under a street lamp. Without my knowledge, they followed close behind me. After a few minutes, I began to feel as though I was being followed, and turned around quickly. There was nobody, the only thing I saw was the street light, and the bushes moving ever so gently. I ignored my gut feelings and kept walking, taking a wrong turn but not knowing it. In sheer panic, I managed to turn TOWARDS the mountains, instead of staying straight ahead, which led RIGHT to campus. The two men followed behind me, almost breathing down my neck. I shrieked some, jumping forward before turning to face whoever it was following me. Bright red dots flickered in front of me as I backed into a dark corner. They blinked a couple of times, as steam floated around in front of me.

#fantasy #fiction #reading #short story #books #entrepreneur #literature #my story #vampire #witches

[silentxxsoul]

The 'this is going to be hella chaotic bc its week 3 wee woo and week 4 tyler higbee please go off i need the points' reaction dump

Listen I'm like deadlocked this week in fantasy football and really need my guy Tyler to show OUT against the 49ers but I'm also invested in all things Bathena so this could not be a worse scenario for my mediocre focusing skills.

I've got so many screens going at once idk how this is gonna go lmao

Lord help me when its playoff baseball and NHL bc 💀

Anyway, gimme all the Bathena tonight PLEASE. I feel like we've only really gotten crumbs from them since COVID hit and Peter and Angela took a step back (also Angela filming BP2), and I'm so, so hyped for more1

ELI MANNING HAS HIS PUPPY ON SET THIS IS GOING TO BE SO MUCH HARDER THAN I THOUGHT BC NOW THERES A GD DOGGO IN THE MIX

The way the actress is playing Athena's mom is talking with her hands is soooo Athena. IDK if it was a conscious decision or not but I love that little detail.

Man, that had to be so terrifying and traumatizing for her

The fact that the foundation was so exposed is sus, but also the timeline is hella confusing. I feel like Jr's dad was only mentioning it so that Athena would question her dad more and not look at him, the guy who poured the foundation. Plus the odd looks Junior was giving his dad--the man knows something.

Bobby being supportive husband ♥♥♥

my lil tyler bud out there doing tight end thins

Honestly, props to Athena for recognizing she really doesn't know who her dad is beyond her house. A lot of family members can't take the blinders off (literally happening in my family rn) or refuse to entertain the idea their family members might be a bad person.

Wait - they both snuck out ??? I mean, that explains the quick change from wanting to shoot Athena point blank and then inviting her inside, but yikes

Something definitely happens at this party, I can feel it. Then Junior and his dad cover up by hiding her body in the foundation. That's the reason for the girls hearing the truck...

Also, I'm still not convinced JR isn't a bit sus outright, especially after the comment about chasing Athena around. He's clearly older--old enough to be passable for drinking age, probably 15/16/17, so that's 10ish on Athena. It's a bit gross to think he was chasing her or however they worded it being that much older than her.

Bobby is about to lose his shit. Like I can see why he'd take her in, but also I can't actually believe they're taking her in.

Is he going to try something ??

Well, actually he is but you don't know that yet

Oh lord Bobby WHAT ARE YOU DOING BY YOURSELF WE ESTABLISHED THERE WAS A MURDER/COVERUP AND YOU DON'T HAVE A WEAPON

I AM STRESSED

BOBBY GO HOME

OH NO OH NO OH NO

THIS IS GOING TO END SO BADLY LIKE SOMEONE ELSE IS GONNA BE DEAD DEAD I CAN FEEL IT

Oh look Matty boy got sacked again lololol

oh christ woman why didn't you put it up?

I FUCKING KNEW IT WAS THE KID HIS DAD WAS JUST COVERING FOR HIS SON BUT LIKE WTF BRO IN YOUR FRIENDS HOUSE ???

Unrelated but Kittle my guy, I'm gonna need you to get some yards here in the next 3 quarters okay?

Always with the villain monologue. I remember in the promo Athena clocked a dude with a shovel and I was pretty sure it was Jr, so like give it a little more oomph

I mean this dude is a fucking creep, right?

YEP A FUCKING CREEP

I HATE THAT I CLOCKED IT

YALL END THIS MAN

THANK YOU BOBBY THANK YOU

KICK HIS ASS THE PERVERT

YALL THIS IS FUCKING TRAGIC AND I HATE IT

kinda poetic it's going to end here though, she can get her peace while he gets justice where it all happened.

Okay, so I knew this was going to be a heavy episode but holy shit was this a heavy episode I mean ----

Holy shit there were more

holy

holy

JESUS H CHRIST

IT WAS SO MUCH WORSE

I'm just

stunned

like

holy shit that ending

I -

I need 3-5 bus days to process yall bc WHAT

Like, this was such a good episode. I know people will be booing because it was Bathena only "aNd noT tHe 118", but y'all this was fucking fantastic. The acting, the story, the execution. Like, the TWISTS. I knew it was likely to be a plot of this kind but the way they got there I was not expecting. Also, to get the supportive!Bobby and his dad-glasses moments ?? S - W - O - O - N

Plus bad ass Athena again? Clocking the shit out of that creep? Doing detective things with her hubby? In this economy??

((tyler you're doing great sweetie!!!))

((coop buddy I NEED YOU IN THE END ZONE NOT IN FRONT OF IT))

#911 fox #911 spoilers #this was chaotic but i loved it #and this episode i mean wooooooow #10 out of 10 do recommend #bc damn #angela SERVED tonight #there's so much to unpack from it

[gabriels-wings-of-freedom]

so i am very slowly getting back into my spn phase and i would very much enjoy a oneshot from your prompt list. any of the reader is pregnant or the S/O is gonna be a father one’s, you can decide, with an afab (assigned female at birth) reader?

I can try my best👍 I’m hoping this is good and to your liking! I'm going use Cas, just cause I love him and I wanna see if I can write him well.

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Baby Daddy

Castiel has been distant ever since you told him the news. One day, he just couldn't take it.

#71 “I’ve been waiting forever to hear that.”

#89 “Your pregnant, that’s all. You’re beautiful.”

It’s been how many months now. Seven? Eight? Honestly, you’ve stopped counting. However, all you did know, was that Castiel was gone. Ever since that day, when you told him the news. 

When you told him you were pregnant.

The angel had literally zapped out into thin air. He had no parting words, no nothing. Only a couple seconds before he vanished. You couldn’t even read his facial expressions. It all happened so fast.

Plus, your eyes were blurry from the tears.

Ever since then, you’ve been under careful supervision from Bobby and the boys. I mean, a child created from a human and an angel could have extreme power and could be hunted down by both demons and angels. The last thing you would want was for someone like Crowley to have your baby. Sam and Dean were determined to keep you safe, especially if Castiel wasn’t going to.

“I’m going to kill him.” Was the first thing Dean threatened after hearing what Castiel had done after you told him.

“Angel blade?” Sam inquired him, knowing full well the answer to that question.

“I’ll find a way.” Dean growled as he paced about the room. You were sitting on the couch, Sam nearby as Bobby was digging through his notes, trying to find something on the situation that could ease your minds.

“Guys...just let it go.” You pleaded while placing your head in your hands, rubbing your temples. Dean immediately stopped his angry pacing while Sam looked at you sympathetically. 

“Well, Y/N, if Cas is going to be an absent father, we better find someone who can deal with a nephilim’s power. Says they can destroy entire worlds.” Bobby explained while giving his forehead a tired rub. You sighed before slowly nodding. Then you got up and decided to retire to your room. You were quite tired.

“She’s got us.” You could hear Dean tell Bobby in an angry tone. The older man’s response was faint, but you could barely make it out.

“Well, idjit,” the use of that word causing Dean to sigh, “unless you know how to harness of the power of an angel, I suggest you think of some other way to be helpful.”

Dean just pinched the bridge of his nose, the stress starting to get to him. Sam sighed, the only one really remaining calm.

“Try calling Cas again.” Sam told Dean when you disappeared. Balling his fists, Dean made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer. 

“Castiel, you better get your ass down from heaven before I climb up there to get you...you know I will...” He muttered. The boys were rather protective of you, especially now and the days following.

However, what you didn’t know was that Castiel has been there through all those months. He’s just never shown himself.

It’s not because he was scared of Dean (although maybe a little), but rather he was more afraid of the child within you. Take away the fact that he had no idea what a father was supposed to do, but a nephilim would have enough power to destroy the world.

And that responsibility terrified him. 

The angel has been silently watching you since the day you told him you were pregnant. It was hard to explain how he was feeling. Castiel wanted to protect you and the child, but he also felt ashamed to face you after his vanishing act. 

However, seeing you so distraught was starting to nag at him.

It’s been around seven to eight months since he fled, or so you thought. Your body has changed drastically, something Castiel couldn’t help but be fascinated by. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t fascinated one bit.

After Castiel left, you felt rather alone. You knew you had the boys, but it wasn’t the same. They gave you support, but not the kind you needed. You needed to hear those loving words that gave you confidence about how you looked. The added weight gain because of the pregnancy made you feel insecure and maybe even a bit disgusted by yourself.

And no one has told you otherwise.

“I can’t believe this...” You whispered to yourself, a frown on your face as you wiped the mirror of steam. You had just taken a nice hot shower and slipped a robe on when you decided to view yourself in the mirror. Castiel kept a close eye on you as per usual, but you didn’t know that.

However, he perked up more upon hearing your words.

“How did I become so unpleasant?” You asked yourself as you stood sideways, looking in the mirror. You caressed your stomach, a frown on your face when you realized you couldn’t even see your toes. You tried to focus on your child, but you couldn’t help but have a couple tears go down your face. 

“I just...hate this...” Whether you were talking about the pregnancy or being lonely, Castiel didn’t know. All he did know, was that he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Your pregnant, that’s all. You’re beautiful.” The sound of a familiar voice that you haven’t heard in months, followed by the sound of flapping wings caused you to shriek slightly which in turn made him flinch a bit.

“My mistake...um...” The angel was at a loss for words at this point. You had calmed down, but still held a hand to your racing heart. He was here, right in front of you. Castiel finally showed up, and actually spoke to you.

The expression on your face was unreadable as you hesitantly took a couple steps forward. Soon, you stood before him and your eyes met. It was like that time long ago when you guys first met. Gently, you brought a hand up to his cheek, and Castiel couldn’t help but nuzzle into its warmth. He’s missed your touch more than you thought.

Perhaps you took his absence better than what he saw.

Then you slapped him.

Of course, that didn’t do much to him, but it did cause him to look surprised. He didn’t understand your sudden change in emotion. You were happy to see him, but now you slap him. The poor angel had just been introduced to mood swings.

“What the hell, Cas?! Where have you been?!” You said to him, a frown on your face. You tried shoving him a bit to get his attention because right now his face was equivalent to a fish out of water.

“Say something!” You semi-shouted at him, your patience running thin as he continued to be at a loss for words, his eyes occasionally drifting to your middle before quickly looking back up at you.

“I...I’m sorry...you have every right to be angry with me.” Castiel finally said, looking like a kicked puppy. Head lowered and all.

“Damn right I do.” You growled while crossing your arms over your chest. He deflated a bit more at that, shoulders slumping.

“I want you to know...I’ve been watching over you ever since that day.” The angel confessed, glancing up slightly to meet your eyes. You couldn’t help but soften a bit at that. Here you thought he abandoned you, when he’s actually been by your side the whole time.

“Then why...why didn’t you show yourself? I needed you.” You emphasized, tears almost threatening to fall as you gestured to yourself. Castiel sighed, feeling even worse about his decision.

“I was ashamed...and afraid...to face what I’ve done. If I could take it all back, I would.” He confessed while looking around the room, obviously a bit nervous about what he said. You just gave him a pitiful look.

“It wasn’t just you Cas...it was me as well. Don’t you think I was scared? We’re stronger together than apart, you’ve known this.” You told him with a sad smile. A smile flickered on his face before disappearing. You were right, but the angel didn’t know how to respond to that.

However, before he could, you gasped while grabbing your bump.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Castiel was quickly by your side, hand on your shoulder as he searched your face for any sign of pain. Any negative feelings or tension that was there went out the window as you smiled a bit.

“She’s kicking...want to feel?” You said gently, a sweet smile on your face. Castiel was hesitant, afraid your sweetness might turn sour again, but you just grabbed his hand and put it on your soft skin. Slowly but surely, he felt the movement of a tiny life.

“Now is your chance to turn things around. Prove to me that you seriously...seriously want to try and be a father.” You told him as his blue eyes softened from the touch of his baby.

“That was...the most incredible feeling I’ve ever encountered.” Castiel said with a smile, bringing his other hand to caress your belly. You swore he was about to cry whether it be from the kicking baby or the fact you were giving him a second chance, you didn’t know. 

“I’ve been waiting forever to hear that.” You told him, fearing he would never get to encounter the kicking of his own child. Now you were nearly ready to cry as you watched your man get all cute. Then, he stood to his full height and hugged you as close as your stomach, and the baby would allow.

“Please know that I’ll never leave your side again.” At first, his words made you smile as you hugged him back. However, the seriousness in his voice made you worry a bit.

“Cas...I need some space.” You said with a bit of a laugh as you pulled away. Then you realized that the two of you have been hiding out in the bathroom the whole time.

Maybe for good reason.

“Perhaps it’s best you don’t show yourself to Sam and Dean just yet.” You told him with a bit of a grin as Castiel squinted at you in confusion. Then it dawned on him.

“Right. Dean wants to kill me.” He stated in that neutral tone, and you assured him that you wouldn’t let that happen. Then he smiled a bit at you.

“Good thing I kept my angel blade with me.” You laughed a bit at that before another realization came to you, causing the smile to vanish. Instead, you crossed your arms and gave your angel a side-eye.

“Wait...if you’ve always been watching...Have you seen me shower every single time?” You questioned, a bit of anger in your voice for him invading your privacy.

The disappearance of Castiel along with the sound of wings gave you your answer.

#supernatural #supernatural imagines #supernatural x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel imagine

[raggaraddy]

your writing is amazing 🥺

could i ask for a yoongi version of the reader being shot because of them? your other ones are so good!!!

Family affairs

@dramaclub-thin

A/N: Thank you, sweetheart! I'm glad you're enjoying the series. This one has a bit of OT7 and I hope you like it too. 💜💜💜

If anyone else wants to request, you can here.

Other parts:

Namjoon

Jimin

Taehyung

Jungkook

Summary: You'd tried so hard to hide your relationship with Yoongi from your father. You knew when he found you were dating someone from a rival club that he'd kill you. You just didn't think it would be literal.

Trigger warnings: Violence, Filicide, Blood, gun usage.

Yoongi

Mafia! Yoongi

Mafia! BTS

"Yes Daddy," you poke your head through the door to his office with a little knock. Normally you would never bother your father while he was working, but one of your brothers came to your room to let you know he was calling for you.

"Ah, Darling. Yes, have a seat." He stands up from his desk, gesturing to the chair ahead of him. "I need your advice on something."

For a moment you get a flutter in your stomach. He never asks you for anything. Your his pretty princess on a pedestal. And he never involves you in anything that a woman wouldn't have been responsible for in the 1950s.

"Of course," you smile, shifting comfortably.

"I know you're tech-savvy, so maybe you can explain this to me. I had some photos printed, but I think there must be something wrong with the camera. Have a look,"

Reaching into his desk drawer as he speaks he pulls out a stack of A4 photos. As he lays them out your eyes jump straight back up at him. Checking for his reaction, a sharp pang of absolute fear hitting you. They're pictures of you and Yoongi, his arm around you when you were coming out of the Bangtan clubhouse.

"I know the camera has to be faulty, because that" he tapes your image, "looks like you. And I know my one and only daughter wouldn't be socializing with those Bulletproof scum."

"Daddy, I-I," you stutter with no idea what to say.

You thought you were so clever, so careful that there was no way he'd ever find out. Even when Yoongi would worry about you possibly being caught you would shrug it off. Your love was invincible and meant to be, and you were smart. No chance your family would ever know you're with Yoongi, and no way his family would ever know you were from a rival gang. As far as they knew, you were just Y/n Brown, the hairdresser from one district over.

But clearly, you weren't careful or clever enough.

Your stark silence is loud enough for your father and he nods a sombre confirmation. "How long Y/n?" He questions.

"Daddy, I don't-"

"How long?!" He's quick to anger, making you jump.

"A few months," you lie, your eyes dropping to your lap. Telling him it's been closer to 18 months is only going to enrage him further.

Slumping back into his office chair he lets out a heavy sigh.

"You think you raise your kids right. To know loyalty and family." He derides looking at you fiercely. "But then you find out your own daughter will open her legs for any cretin. In complete disregard of everything she should know."

You knew it would be awful if he ever found out, you know he is a terrifying dangerous man, but hearing your father's derogatory comments are harder to take than you ever expected.

"What did you tell them?" He sits forward. His demeanour, his expression going from disappointed father to cold mafioso.

Your mouth going dry, you swallow hard. Shaking your head softly. "Nothing."

"Bullshit!" He yells. "You expect me to believe they just let the daughter of Bastille get all cosy with one of the 7 without you giving up something."

This is so bad. You knew your parents, your brothers, the entire Bastille would disown you for this, but they'll actually kill you if they think you've sold them out.

"No. I didn't tell them anything. None of them knows who I am. Only Yoongi knows. And I didn't tell him shit. You know I wouldn't." You defend yourself trying to reign in your distress.

"Well, there's a lot of things I wouldn't think a daughter of mine could do." His voice is so detached. He's stopped looking at you. This is so so bad.

"Dad. I didn't say anything." You restate, fighting to convince him. Feeling like you're trying to prove the case for your own life. "I know the rules. Don't talk to anyone. Not cops. Not friends or enemies." You repeat the words that had been drilled in your entire childhood. You knew nothing, you saw nothing. Those are the rules.

"I don't believe you." He says bitterly.

Your hands are trembling, you're panting heavily. You know being with a rival club member is a stupid thing, but the clubs are in a truce.  And despite your father's opinion, you would never be so stupid as to actually say anything. And Yoongi would never let you, even if you decided to. You did one thing wrong, but you made sure you did everything else right.

Leaning back, he opens his phone book. Searching for a number.

"Dad," You plead for his attention. Raising the phone to his ear he shushes you, placing a finger over his mouth.

You have no idea what to do. You've seen him decimate people for so much less than what he's accusing you of. You don't know how to prove your innocence.

The call answers and you can hear a distant 'hello'.  Putting the phone on speaker he puts the receiver down.

"Warren L/n here. I believe I have something of yours," he says.

"What are you talking about?" You inhale a staggered breath, hearing the familiar gruff voice of Kim Namjoon.

Your dad's plan was simple. If you were telling the truth about Bangtan not knowing who you were, their leader would be confused and concerned that you were with the leader of Bastille. But if they knew who you were, this would be a much more straightforward issue. Namjoon would understand right away why he was calling.

And if you were lying about one thing, he could assume you were lying about more.

"Say hello Y/n." Your dad prompts, his look daring you to refuse.

"Hi," You squeak, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. Your own safety aside, Namjoon was going to kill Yoongi.

There's a brief pause. The background noise on Namjoon's side disappearing. "Kidnapping women? I didn't realise you were handling that personally now."

"Who said kidnap?" he leads the conversation.

"Then maybe you want to explain what one of our girls is doing with you?" Namjoon growls, sounding protective.

That was enough confirmation for your father. The leader didn't know what was going on. But he was about to.

On Namjoons side of the line, he was pacing back and forth in a closed meeting room at the entrance of the clubhouse. Your father was revealing the secret that you and Yoongi had fought so hard to keep.

The phone call ending, Namjoon was in a rage. Marching across the bar he stormed at the table with other members around it. His maddened expression drawing Yoongi's attention. But the older member didn't have any reason to think this fury was directed at him and so he doesn't react quick enough as Namjoon punches him in the face, knocking him from his chair.

The other boys instantly becoming alert, Jungkook jumps to Namjoons side holding his arm out in front of him, looking ready to intervene. Jimin standing between the floored Yoongi and the enraged leader.

"Hyung, what the hell ar-" Jimin snaps.

"You fucking idiot! Bastille's daughter?!" he roars trying to push through Jimin. Jungkook stepping in to help keep him at bay.

Climbing back to his feet, nursing a split lip, Yoongi's eyes go wide. Completely caught off guard by Namjoon's revelation. "How did you-" he gapes.

"Everything she's seen, everything she knows! Do you have any idea how much you've exposed this club?" He lunges again, bowling the mediating members out of the way. Diving through Yoongi, the two men trade blows as they scuffle on the floor.

The scene quickly gets out of hand, and as Yoongi throws Namjoon through a table, Jin and Hoseok come from a backroom to step in also. The four of them now working to pry the two battling men apart. Jimin and Hoseok holding back Yoongi. The oldest and youngest members trying to keep Namjoon at bay.

"Enough!" Jin scolds with a firm shove to Namjoon's chest. "Someone explain what the hell is going on!"

"Just Suga thinking with his dick, instead of his brain." Namjoon spits.

Shirking off the boys, Yoongi barges forward infuriated by the provocative comment. War breaking out again with a solid hit at Namjoon, a gash opening over his eye. Another difficult struggle beginning for the members, grappling and clawing them apart. Having to fully restrain them to have them stop. Being held as they bleed.

Grabbing both of them by the collar, Jin demands their focus. "The next man who throws a punch leaves here with a bullet in his leg!" He growls. "Am I clear?!" His fist tightens, stiffening their necklines.

"Yes,"

"Yes, Hyung."

The two of them conceded, their energy dropping as their eldest releases them. "Good. Now sit down so we can talk this shit out."

It takes several minutes and a round of drinks, but the room calms down enough for the members to sit down. They send the few 2nd levels out and the 95's girlfriends. The bar remaining with only the 7 original members. Taehyung coming back just as the disclosure began.

Namjoon starts, passing along the information your father had given him. The 6 of them all sharing disappointed, worried or angry glances towards Yoongi.

"She wouldn't have said anything." Yoongi insists, after explaining his side also. Trying to defend his decision. To defend you.

"You can't know that," Jimin argues, flumping back in his seat. Taking a sip with a pissed-off scowl on his face.

"Yeah, we've all been pussy blinded before. You're not thinking clearly." Jungkook snips.

"Maknae-" Yoongi warns. Getting tired of the disrespect that keeps getting thrown his way.

"Hey, watch it." Jin interrupts, correcting Jungkook's blunt attitude. The youngest shrugging, downing the last of his drink.

"Look, if she was giving information to L/n, then why would he call to tell you that he knows." Yoongi disputes. Hoping to bring reason back into the debate.

"He wants to trade. The latest shipment of horse for Y/n." Namjoon answers with a frustrated scoff and a roll of his eyes.

"That's close to 500 K. That's not happening," Hoseok jumps in. The rest of them firmly nodding in agreement.

"Okay, but if that's the case. If he's trying to sell her off, that means she's not working with him. Right?" Taehyung backs Yoongi's point.

"Idiot," Jimin shoves his friend, "It could be a part of the plan. A way to rip us off for half a million."

"Or it could be a set-up," Namjoon adds. "Let's say Hyung's right, and she isn't working with her old man. If we're willing to sit down, if we try to buy her back, it confirms that she knows enough that we're concerned about it."

"I'm telling you, she doesn't know anything. She didn't want to know anything. And even if she did, she's not gonna give it up." Again Yoongi vehemently defends you.

"Well if she doesn't give him anything then L/n kills her." Namjoon finalizes. "To hurt the club, and as retribution for her betrayal."

"What I don't understand is why you would let her go back? If you trust her and you know how ruthless Bastille is, why would you let her keep going back to him?" Jin asks, genuinely baffled.

Standing up Yoongi can't take anymore. He's furious. He's upset. At himself most of all. Feeling to blame for allowing you to be in this situation, he leaves in anger. Needing some time to himself to think.

"I don't know, she seemed pretty cool," Taehyung mutters, leaning into Namjoon. "You don't really think he would kill his own daughter, right?"

It's been 2 days and you've been locked in an empty storage shed at the edge of the property like a captive. Your father turned your world upside down looking for information. His people went through your computer, your phone, your car, your room. Everything that was yours he and his men had raided. And just like you said, there was nothing there. No information about Bastille, and nothing about Bangtan.

"Suga. I'm guessing that's Min Yoongi? Unless you're cheating on him." Your dad muses holding up your phone. That is so humiliating. So many nudes and dirty texts are in that chat. There may not be revealing information, but there was still plenty of personal stuff.

"You know Darling, I don't like to admit when I am wrong, but it looks like you were telling the truth. I can't find any proof that you gave up any family details." He smiles softly, your heart lifting with relief for a moment. "But then I was looking through your camera roll and, in the pictures where you actually have clothes on, it's just full of Bangtan." He comes further into the empty shed, leaning on the wall alongside you. Showing you the screen as he scrolls through. The only entrance being blocked by one of his more grizzly looking men. "See here, there's you and a bunch of them at a restaurant. There's you and the leader. You and the crazy one. Here's a family-style photo, isn't that nice."

He keeps scrolling through shot after shot, exhibiting an entire album full of Bangtan family pictures.

"I'm sure you never expected anyone else to see these. I guess I should have been teaching you not to put the same password for multiple devices." He scoffs. "But the interesting thing, when I'm going through these photos you seem to be really close with all of them. Some of these even go back to last year. Which makes the timeline you gave me a little off."

He shows the details of one of the pictures to you, the time stamp from when you had already been with Yoongi for 6 months.

"This one is from May 2nd. Last year. On the 10th those bastards stole one of my shipping containers. With nearly 100 grand worth of merchandise. Did you know about that?"

"You mean people." You sneer, his characterization of human trafficking as 'merchandise' making your skin crawl.

"So you did know." He smiles coldly.

"I found out- I knew after," you justify. Even as you continue to defend yourself, you have a sick feeling that it's all for nothing.

"I'm really curious what else you know." He hums, walking around the front of you to get back into your eye line.

"I don't know anything," you tell him for the 1000th time with an exasperated shake of your head. Moving away to the far side of the shed.

"Darling, I'm your father and I'm telling you we need to reconcile this. Your mother is worried sick. I'm here losing sleep over this. I'm giving you a chance to repay all the damage you've done. A chance to forget all this. You tell me everything you know about Bangtan, and just like that," he snaps his fingers, "you get to return to your comfortable life."

You don't trust his change in tone or his promises for a minute. You may not have known the darkest parts of who he is, but that's how you can be sure that his offer to forgive and forget is rubbish. Not even the father in him would let you forget a mistake. Especially one this major, not with the way he is reacting. And he's so much more brutal when it comes to Bastille.

"And if I don't?"

"Then you've betrayed your family. And we'll find out what we want to know in other ways." he taps the back of his hand in the other, symbolizing a beat down.

You shake your head hard. You might love your dad. But you don't like him. You've known for most of your life that he was a bad guy. And Yoongi, Bangtan, they might not be the good guys, but they've been the family you've always wanted. There is no way you were telling him even the most insignificant detail.

"Hit me all you want dad, I still don't know anything." You snarl.

"I could never hit my own daughter." He taps his heart, a feigned pained expression on his face. Nodding his head in your direction, he trades places with his man who advances on you.

Breathing hard you step back only to hit the wall.

The tall, square-built man swings. The back of his hand slapping your cheek, the force so strong that it smacks you into the corner sidewall. His hand, like a vice, grabs ahold of your head and mightily slams it into the steel beam running down the sheet metal wall. Pushing your hands against his chest, you weakly attempt to fend him off, but he ends your efforts with another solid wack against the frame.

As blood streams down your head, his focus switches. The majority of his attacks landing on your torso.

With you curled up on the floor, wheezing and gasping for breath, the assault finally stops. But not out of mercy. Even through the ringing in your ears, you can hear the outburst of gunfire in the distance.

Both your dad and his man rush out, leaving you locked away. While it's for an equally terrifying reason, you're thankful to have this time to catch your breath. Although every laborious intake brings agony.

After some time, light floods back into the room, your father standing in the doorway outlined by the setting sun. "I'm sorry Darling. If I had to do this, I hoped it would be a bit more ceremonious. But we don't have the time for that now."

You gasp at him raising his gun at you. He shoots three times. One in your chest, one in your shoulder and one in your stomach.

The shock, the impact takes the breath from you. And you can't draw it back in. Your eyes glassing over, your head filled with nothing but white noise. Feeling a fleeting moment of relief as everything goes quiet and dark.

"Fuck. No!" Yoongi howls. He, Jin and two 2nd ranks had chased after your father as he fled.

Bangtan's siege on his property was highly successful till that point, and he had run downhill to the storage garage. Looking to make a getaway.

The other's continue after him as Yoongi stumbles into you. His steely outer shell crumbling away the moment he sees your body limp and bleeding out.

Falling beside you he leans over shaking and in tears. Kissing your lips gently with heartfelt pleas "I'm sorry Y/n. I'm so sorry. Please don't do this. Please."

Jin doubles back, watching distraught from the entrance as his brother falls apart.

Lifting your head up, Yoongi brings your forehead to his. The movement making you splutter blood. The first sign of life that either of the men had seen.

"Holy fuck, she's alive." Jin gawks, jumping in beside Yoongi pressing on the hole in your stomach. The bullet in your shoulder and chest had both hit bone, stopping the slug from going through, blocking the wounds from severe blood loss. The bullet in your torso shot through your bowls and thankfully not through your vital organs. Meaning your chances of survival were much higher. It was either 3 highly unlucky shots or three precisely placed ones.

"I'm so sorry Y/n." Yoongi's in shock. Devastated and guilt-ridden, and unable to make himself function.

"Dude, get your shit together or she's not gonna make it." Jin smacks the side of his brothers head, snapping him out of his grief-stricken daze.

"Can you save her?" He asks rubbing the tears from his eyes.

"Not a chance. But I can keep her alive for a minute until we get to the clubhouse. Call the doc, tell him to meet us there." Jin orders, having much more clarity at this moment. "And get the boys to bring the car around. We're going to need a few of us to move her."

Yoongi follows Jin's lead, wiping the blood from his hands onto his pants to dial.

"Think of it this way," Jin smiles shortly, trying to soothe Yoongi's fear and panic with an ill-timed joke. "If she survives, at least she'll have proved she's Bangtan."

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #bts yoongi #min yoongi #mafia!bts #Mafia!yoongi #bts yandere

[transheadcannon]

Alright, have you ever seen Coraline? Can we get some Trans guy Wybie headcanons?

Also, you saw my pride post?! AND REBLOGED IT?! OH MY GAAAAHD!

Omg hi! I totally forgot about this I’m so sorry. Absolutely I can do this! I am aware I’m a little late but I hope it’s not too late! 

1. I am obsessed with the implications of a trans Wybie. He named himself Wybie. That’s such a big brained move. 

2. He’s fairly young in the film so he probably figured it all out super early. Defiantly one of those trans kiddos who refused to be gendered the way their parents wanted them to be. 

3. He gives me the vibe that when he gets older he will (regrettably) be one of the crust punks who only drink green monsters 

4. Wybie, in spite of some squintable childhood experiences, still loves weird and creepy and slimy things, particularly bugs and spiders

5. Probably watches old horror films for the Vibes and the Camp of it all, and looks at the old actors and goes ‘god i wish that were me’ 

6. His favorite movie is The Mummy, because of the aforementioned Camp and Vibes, and if it’s not that it IS The Blob (he likes slimy things, but also he really enjoys movie theater gimmicks of the era and is so upset they aren’t making a comeback)

7. Wybie always has black nail polish on. For the Drama. 

8. Wybie’s grandmother was probably a little confused at first about this whole (as she puts it) “Transgender business”, but after she gets on board she gets on board, which results in Wybie owning enough binders to actually rotate through them instead of wearing one until it gets beyond rank and is forced to wash it until it inevitably wears so thin the seams pop and it’s rendered unwearable (looking directly at you, binder-wearing transmasc audience)

9. Terrible, and I mean terrible, voice cracks for this unfortunate teenager. Just aLl OvER the pLAcE. Coraline, who remained his closest friend throughout the years, does not him forget it and brings it up often to embarrass him

10. “hey coraline” “hEy COraLiNe” “your days are numbered.”

11.  I have two ideas for how he comes out to Coraline and I do not know which one I like better so I’m putting down both:

11a. Option 1; he straight up doesn’t come out and doesn’t mention it she just nods her head and doesn’t think about it. Like maybe they’re outside and they get super muddy and while being hosed down in the front lawn she sees his binder or something, or as 18-19 year olds they’re just chilling and he walks in without a shirt on and it’s just understood but not acknowledged

11b. Option 2; more in character for Coraline, she’s relentless like a dog with a bone until Wybie (also more in character) awkwardly blurts it out in a super confusing way which leads to Miscommunications. Coraline knows something is up but has not a clue as to what it is, she just knows that her friend is cagey and secretive. Wybie is terrified Coraline will have a problem or any of the other usual transgender related fears (I hate to say it but I’ve seen many a terf with a Coraline haircut). One day she confronts him and he’s like “he- well- i- uh-” and Coraline is like “oh cool okay” and in her head she’s like “oh so HE’s a ghost better not say anything to make him uncomfortable” and only after several more days of Miscommunications do they reach a conclusion

12. The fact that the Beldame didn’t misgender Wybie makes her the Truest Trans Ally ignore the children eating business she’s an Ally. Girlbossery of the highest order ignore the kidnapping children business

13. He looks like a wasabi eater. Idk what it is about him but I just know that he likes the flavor of wasabi. 

14. Wybie also just looks like a poor sleep pattern waiting to happen. He definitely stays up late manically doing something only to look out the window and realize the sun is now up and he hasn’t slept for hours. 

15. Wybie has a line of highly specific graphic tees he makes himself and all of them say things like “The Beldame is a Trans Ally” and “If you misgender me I’ll unleash the beast in the well” just general incomprehensible things that he does not explain. Simply if you get it you get it if you don’t you don’t 

17. Like zombies to a weird degree. Also Deadpool. Just both of those things and they feed into each other. 

18. “but listen Deadpool’s powers are just a metaphor for being trans-”

19. Because of his interest in the macabre and his childhood experiences, his reaction to paranormal are likely just Shane from Buzzfeed Unsolved

20. I will leave you with this truth, and know from the bottom of my heart that I apologize for this, but that I know it rings true. Wybie is a Sans Undertale kinnie.

#coraline #Willy’s thcs #coraline trans #trans headcanon #coraline movie #sorry this is so late #hope you enjoy!

[pftones3482]

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

~~

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

~~

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

~~

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

#percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #my writing #sally jackson #paul blofis #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo

[bl--ankhaeji]

Bed of Roses

Pairing~ Emperor!Taeyong x CivilianPharmacist!Reader

Genre~ fluff,, angst,, empireau

Warnings~ smut..like three different scenes,,fem!recieving oral,,handjob,,switch?Tae/Reader,,Talks of war,,mentions/slight descriptions of death,,mentions/descriptions of extreme illness,,Taeyong has PTSD and nightmares,,mentions of blood,,Taeyong has insecurites,,mentions of rotting flesh

A.N~ This is my fic for the taeyong gallery collab hosted by @alreadyblondenow   I am releasing two days later than planned I am sorry for that. This fic is based off of the painting The Kiss by Gustave Klimt. Also big thanks to my mutual/beta reader, Xiami, @kjmsupremacist​ and the mutual who made this beautiful banner for me, Mylin, @suh-insane​ This is my longest fic so far I hope you all enjoy 😊 Oh and before I forget there is a whole like sort of surgery scene in here PSA I am no doctor, I know nothing substantial about medicine or medicinal practices. I got the inspiration for that scene from a drama so...(props if you can guess which one it is)

W. Count~ 12.5k 

The screams of thousands ringing in the air is deafening. Buildings are burning to the ground from a ravenous blaze. A vibrant haze of orange and red covers every single object in sight. No matter where he looks there is someone crying; hell, even the sky seems to be crying tonight. Taeyong’s legs give out from under him, bringing the once-strong prince to his knees as his head drops, hanging lowly in shame. How had he let it get this far? What happened to his beautiful peaceful empire full of its joyous people?

War. That’s what happened. His father had gotten power hungry and bloodthirsty, a terrifying duo. He remembers sitting in the royal meetings listening to the decisions his father would make, hating every single one but not having the authority let alone the guts to stand up to him. Hurried footsteps bring the prince out of his memories as a peasant girl, barefoot and in a tattered dress, appears in front of him.

“Prince Taeyong!” she cries, tears rushing down her face as if trying to see who will beat the other to the ground first. The prince's head snaps up at her cries, looking intently at her face. Her once-beautiful features are now horribly damaged and scarred from what looks like a massive burn. The girl opens her mouth, words making their way out until they stop suddenly and are replaced with a blood-curdling scream. 

It’s then that Taeyong notices the spear cutting through her flesh, beginning to protrude through her midriff before it retrieds back through her body. The girl’s now-limp body falls in a heap in front of the prince, her blood flowing rapidly out of the deep gash. In her place stands an enemy soldier. The soldier raises his sword and the two men quickly commence into a brief battle. Taeyong quickly overtakes the soldier, tearing him down almost effortlessly. 

The tired male stands tall, chest heaving, almost completely covered in blood before he rushes back to the girl, cradling her in his arms, even though his subconscious already knows it’s too late. “M-miss, oh my god miss, p-please please wake up,” he stutters frantically, lightly tapping her face. “MEDIC!! HELP SOMEONE!” he screeches so loudly it feels as if it��s ripping his throat. 

Countless people have died in front of him this whole time. Countless bodies lay around him–men, women, and children alike. Yet he’s hellbent on trying to yell for a medic that he knows isn’t there to help this one girl. Suddenly, he sees the girl's eyes flutter open. “My prince,” her voice barely whispers, her shaking hands reaching up slowly to softly cradle the prince’s tear streaked face. Suddenly the strength returns to her body, her hands, once gentle, now harshly gripping the side’s of Taeyong's face, nails causing what feels like permanent moon shaped indentures on his face. “YOU!” she spits. 

Her eyes, once gentle and kind, tainted with fear, now hold an anger and bloodlust so intense it is almost suffocating. “You’re the reason I’m like this! You and the royal family caused this-this WAR. And for what reason, huh? Thousands of lives lost; all of my friends and family are now dead because of you. I’M EVEN DEAD NOW BECAUSE OF YOU!!” Her hands now tightly grip his neck. “If I have to die by your hands then you have to die by mine. You made this bed of thorns, now lay in it. DIE!” 

“AHHHHHH!” An ear piercing cry leaves the man's lips as he now sits up in his bed scrambling to the headboard as if trying to get away. His clothes and bedding are drenched in sweat. His personal guard, Doyoung, rushes into the room, thinking there was a possible intruder from the emperor's cries. Even though this was far from the first time the emperor was plagued by night terrors, he could never be too certain.

“Your Highness, Your Highness please. Taeyong! Snap out of it; you’ll wake the entire empire, sir please.” Doyoung pleaded with the now sobbing man. “Your Highness, it’s okay it was just a dream, none of it is real.” The guard's large hand lands on the emperor’s back as he rubs soothing circles in hopes of calming the almost hysterical man. 

The dream may not have been real but his pain was, the war was real. His sobs are deafening. 

His people, his country. He failed them; he’s still failing them.

~

The once-cowering man now stands tall with an aura of elegance and power radiating off of him. After Doyoung’s fruitless attempts at trying to talk Taeyong into getting some help for his recurring nightmares, the emperor was due down in Neo City, sometimes referred to as N-City, the capital of the Neo Empire. At least once a month Taeyong comes down from the castle placed in the heart of Neo City and walks around greeting and getting to know the citizens of the city. Taeyong has always been very passionate about knowing the people under him and knowing how they live. He never wants to be an emperor that lets his people suffer while he lives extravagantly in the castle. 

He figures that’s the least he can do after failing them once already. 

He shrugs on his royal cloak even though he and everyone else knows that it’ll come off in no time once he joins the people. Taking a seat in the carriage across from Doyoung, Taeyong is handed his crown.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck fuck fuck. That’s all that you can think of as you race to make it on time. You’re so fucking late; how could you have let it slip your mind? The emperor always comes down around this time and you’re usually always in your spot on time, but you woke up late this morning after pulling an all-nighter preparing medicinal herbs for the elderly people down your street. 

Your rucksack flops lifelessly beside your hip as you finally come to a stop, managing to make it to the spot in the nick of time. You had to deliver the herbs this morning and it almost cost you to miss seeing the emperor. Ever since Taeyong had taken over as emperor and started making his monthly visits, you always made sure you were there to be able to see him. You had a special spot you always occupied. It was the perfect spot where you could see him but not be front and center so that he could see you. 

Indiscernible chatter and yelps of delight grow louder and more constant. The second you turn your head, an unmistakable crown floats atop the heads of an ample number of people. At that same moment you hear the emperor's joyous laugh, the beautiful sound bringing an uncontrollable smile to your lips. The crowd of people slowly thins out, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the handsome man, and you can’t help but to be taken aback by his beauty even though this is far from your first time seeing him. The first thing you look at are his eyes. Despite his entire demeanor radiating a bubbly happiness, you can see the truth in his eyes. 

Taking in the appearance of the royalty, you notice the dirty cuffs on his white button up that sit rolled up on his forearms. Ahhh he must’ve been helping Mr. Young plant vegetables again. Your mind conjures an image of the older male who has the gall to make even the emperor plant vegetables for him and  a small chuckle falls from your lips. Making your gaze up to his head, you take in the royal crown. You always wonder how the crown manages to stay rooted on his head despite sitting on it lopsided 90% of the time. A crooked smile that shines brighter than the sun graces the emperor's features and you suddenly feel your cheeks warm like a furnace. 

Too caught up in your trance, you don’t feel the person bump into you until you’re already on the ground. The silence that greets you rings heavy in the air and isn’t broken until you hear a gasp, while at the same time feeling warm, nimble fingers wrap around your arm, gently lifting you from the ground. “Are you okay?” an male voice rumbles, a voice you’re no stranger to, a voice you were just delighted to hear mere seconds ago. 

“I uh I-I ah-h y-y-yes-,” you stutter, struggling to form coherent words once you realize that the emperor has helped you up from the ground. 

The emperor helped you up.

The emperor has his hand wrapped around your arm.

The emperor saw your fall... Dear God THE EMPEROR SAW YOUR FALL!

“I-I uhh YES-yes, I am fine,” you rush out, keeping your head down, refusing to meet the eyes of Emperor Taeyong, terrified of the judgement that might lie in them at your embarrassing fall. You quickly release yourself of his hold, scurrying away before he or anyone else can get a glimpse of your face. With your heart pounding in your ears and tears pricking your eyes you run back to your house as fast as you can manage, cutting your time to see the emperor extremely short. Hey, at least you have more time to prepare; you’re going to make things a little bit different today. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness.” Doyoung’s curt voice takes Taeyong’s attention away from the retreating back of the girl he just helped off of the ground mere seconds ago. 

“Wha-–ah yes! Let’s keep moving, shall we?”  

The sound of the horses' feet clacking against the stone ground echoes throughout the carriage. “Doyoung,” the emperor starts, looking almost wistfully out of the window. “Do you think that girl from earlier is okay?” 

“I would assume so, seeing as how she had no trouble when running away as if she had just robbed a bakery,” he replied with a slight tilt in his voice.

“She did run away quite enthusiastically, didn’t she?” Taeyong can’t help the small grin that overtook his face at the memory of the girl. It was rather funny seeing her scramble away as if she had just committed a crime. 

“Your Highness, we have arrived.” The coachman speaks from the outside of the carriage as it slows to a stop. 

Despite the limited space, Taeyong stands, shouldering the heavy royal robe. The door to the carriage is opened by one of the royal guards, who proceeds to escort Taeyong to the steps of the palace. A sound of disdain falls from the guards lips and catches Taeyong’s attention. “What seems to be the problem, might I ask?” Halting his steps, Taeyong turns towards the guard and gives him his full attention. 

Realizing the emperor heard him, the guard stiffens, stuttering over his words hurriedly, attempting to make sure the emperor didn’t misunderstand. “Ah—no, Your Highness. There is no problem; not with you, at least, it’s just there’s this girl that always comes to the palace every week, and it’s just really annoying to send her away all the time.” 

Spotting a girl making her way up the palace steps, the guard and Taeyong watch as the girl encounters her first guard, thrusting the huge bouquet into his face then bowing, appearing to say something completely inaudible from this distance. Standing straight, she looks as if she begs the guard for something, a hopeful look etched onto her face only for it to fall after the guard says something in return. Seemingly giving up, the girl turns to leave the palace, only this time she hangs her head down in sorrow. 

Gathering what could be classified as a humongous bouquet, you make your way to the palace, even though you know you’ll probably be sent away again. Having succeeded in finally getting them to at least take the bouquet, you can only hope it reaches the emperor. Usually you just give him a nice bouquet full of roses that grow right in your garden at home with a nice little card attached reminding him to eat and get enough fluids, things like that, but this time after seeing the emperor you know he needs more than just roses. You gathered up and put together a bouquet full of beautiful red roses, gladiolus colored a light pale peach, white poppies, and a bunch of basil sprinkled throughout the bouquet. 

Each flower carries a significant meaning with it that you want to give to the emperor and even if none of your other bouquets got to him, you really wish this one will. Sitting down, you prepare to write the note that you would leave this time. 

It’s me again, Your Highness. I saw you today when you went down to town, and you looked really tired despite the smile you put on your face for us. I do hope you are getting enough sleep while also keeping yourself fed and hydrated, otherwise if you get sick, who will lead us as well as you do? 

As you can see, I gave you a little something different than the usual roses. Considering that you’re a busy person, I’ll assume that you don’t know these flowers or their meanings so allow me to tell you. 

The red flowers are obviously the roses I have been giving you for the last year or so. The pink looking flowers are called Gladiolus and they symbolize strength and get their name from gladiators who fight with strength and honor. The white flowers are called White poppies; they symbolize peace and the remembrance of war. They got that meaning because they are usually the flowers that grow atop fallen soldiers' bodies after war. Finally the little green leaves sprinkled throughout the bouquet are called Basil; although usually used in food, they are also thought to bring peace while warding off negative spirits, symbolizing good wishes, wealth, and a happy home. 

Now that you know their meaning, I hope you can understand why I gifted these to you. Till next time Your Highness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing the folded piece of paper, Taeyong lets out a breath before looking at the beautiful bouquet in his hands. He was surprised that someone took so much notice and cared so greatly about him and his well-being to do something like this. With a light heart and a small flustered grin, he places the card back in the bouquet, setting the flowers in a vase atop the vanity in his room, somewhere where he is sure he will get to see the flowers everyday. 

Back to normal again this week, Your Highness. I do hope that you were able to receive last week's bouquet, but I know there’s a good chance you did not, just like you will not this week. Do not ask why I continue to deliver these bouquets even though I know that you have not gotten a single one. It is too much to explain over a single note. I hope you have eaten well and stayed hydrated throughout this week. I also hope you have been sleeping well. If not, one way I find that helps is lavender oil. You could take it orally or drink some lavender tea before bed. You could even keep lavender in your room to infuse the area with its scent. 

That’s it for this week, Your Highness. Till next time

Closing the note from this week, Taeyong places it back inside of the bouquet, setting it down on his vanity. “Doyoung!” When you delivered today’s bouquet, Taeyong had made specific orders to ensure that it got to him this time. “Could you fetch me some lavender?” 

So after the first time, every week Taeyong couldn’t help but find himself lying in wait anxiously just to get your bouquet and read the sweet little notes you left in them. He had made sure to keep every single letter. His room was so full of roses that he had to start placing them all over the palace, but not without making sure to get the little note always cuddled inside. Not only that, he even started to smell like roses and he couldn’t be happier. He soon found himself relying on the little notes left in the bouquets’ to get himself through the week. Even if it was the simplest message just telling him to make sure to eat, drink, and sleep properly it still means the world to him.

 He would get so excited for the bouquets that he had even started to make his way down to the palace entrance when he knew you were coming. Doyoung would compare it to a dog waiting on their owner to get home. He swore one of these days he was going to stop being a scaredy cat and go out and accept the bouquet himself, but until that day came he would remain behind the palace doors. 

The resounding gong of the grandfather clock echoed throughout the room, alerting Taeyong of the new hour. It’s not like he didn’t already know, though. “It’s 4 o’clock, I have thirty minutes till my roses come.” Signing the last of the documents, stacking them on top of his desk, Taeyong stands, stretching his lithe body in order to get rid of the stiffness in his joints. Walking around his desk, Taeyong makes his way through the door.

A monotone voice laced with sarcasm breaks the silence, scaring Taeyong. “I guess it’s time for your one-sided weekly date. Or is it one-sided since one brings gifts while the other just watches like a creepy stalker?” Doyoung questions, leaning against the wall next to the entrance whilst raising his eyebrow.

“N-no! I mean, yes, it is close to time for the delivery, but it’s not a date.” A light blush covers Taeyong’s cheeks as the word ‘date’ falls from his lips. “I was just leaving to go around the palace and see how everything is going, checking and making sure things are happening the way they should–y’know, kingly duties.”

Turning to face the obviously flustered king, Doyoung gives him a deadpan expression that screams mmhm sure. “All I got from that was that you admit to being a creepy stalker.” Taeyong’s mouth flies open, unable to give a coherent response. “Oops, look at the time! You should probably start making your rounds,” he says, walking out of the room, the sound of Taeyong’s incoherent ramblings drowning out as he walks away. 

Sobering up from his conversation with Doyoung, he makes his rounds around the castle, steadily making his way to the entrance, keeping his eyes on the time. By the time he makes it to the entrance, he can see the girl making her way up the palace stairs, still a little dot in the distance. He can’t help but notice the way his hands begin to feel clammy and his heart rate slowly picking up as your face comes into view. 

He remembers the first time he came down and was finally able to see your face clearly. He swears it was as if the world stopped. You looked more beautiful than any bouquet he has received from you. He was so flustered that he couldn’t help but to blush every time he thought of you. He knows because Doyoung wouldn’t shut up about the magenta red that spread along his cheeks at random times that day. 

He was so focused on looking at you that he didn’t realize the rushed way in which you gave the guard the bouquet. All he knew was that one second he was staring at your face and the next your back as you lightly jogged away. Slight disappointment settles in his stomach as he realizes you didn’t even attempt to convince the guard to give the bouquet to him this time. 

The guard walks over, handing the bouquet to the waiting king, not wanting to be gone from her post too long; she quickly turns around, moving to head back before the voice of the emperor stops her. “Wait!” Taeyong notices the tension in her body at the sound of his voice, “Yes, your highness?” she asks, voice shaking slightly. 

“Where is the note?” 

Turning back around, she faces the emperor. “What note, sir?” 

“The note. The one that’s always in her bouquets.” Taeyong notices his voice came out sharper than he intended when he sees the guard flinch slightly. “I apologize; I didn't mean for that to come out so harshly. I just—there’s always a note that comes with her bouquets and-and there’s not one in here.”

“Ah, I don’t believe there was one in there, Your Highness. At least, I didn’t see one when she handed it to me.” Upon seeing the crestfallen look that sits on the emperor's face, the guard instantly offers to check and see if it had fallen off somewhere. 

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Taeyong replies, “No you’re fine–it’s fine if you didn’t see it when she handed it to you then it must not have been there in the first place.” Taeyong can hear how disheartened his voice was. Deciding it’s time to go inside, he sends the guard off to go do what they were doing beforehand.

“Hey Tae, how was the–What’s wrong?” Doyoung instantly notices the somber expression placed upon the emperor’s face. “You usually are about ready to jump off of the walls and now you look like the baker just ran out of those sweet potato cubes you get when we go into town.”

“It’s nothing.”

Grabbing Taeyong’s shoulder, Doyoung turns him around so they’re face to face, “That girl didn’t say anything mean in that note she leaves in the bouquets did she? Cause if she did, so help me god- no so help her I will-.”

“Calm down, she didn’t say anything mean. She didn’t say anything at all. There was no note in the bouquet this time.” 

“Oh. Uhh well, at least she still delivered the roses. Maybe something happened and she didn’t have time to write the letter,” Doyoung tries to reason, hoping he would be able to say something that would lift his friend’s spirit. Taeyong could tell Doyoung was trying his best to be supportive but there is nothing he could say right now that could make him feel any better.

“Y-yeah, maybe.” Not wanting to think about it anymore, Taeyong leaves for his room with a wave. At least he finished all of his paperwork for the day and he can just lay in bed.  

Taeyong finds himself walking through a field filled with flowers without an end in sight. It’s not until he sees the outline of a person sitting in the field that he starts to speed up, hoping he could ask the stranger where he was at. 

As he gets closer, the person begins to seem more and more familiar. It has him thinking, trying to figure out who it could be. As if the person hears him they turn around and he’s surprised to see you sitting in the field. 

“Hello Taeyong.” 

“Ahh hi.” Taeyong can feel his heart rate pick up almost as if it’s trying to jump out of his chest.

“Would you like to sit with me? The bloom is absolutely beautiful today.” Replying with a stiff nod, the usually confident emperor shyly takes a seat in the field of white flowers. Giving the seemingly flustered male a soft smile you pluck one of the flowers out of the field, lifting it up to your nose smelling the fragrant plant. 

“Smells heavenly. Would you like to take a sniff?” you ask, taking the flower away from under your nose, handing it to the male opposite you. 

Taeyong takes the small white flower out of your hand, lifting it to take a whiff. He immediately recoils as the putrid smell of rotting flesh infiltrates his senses, “Wha-” You snatch the flower away from his hand taking another whiff. 

“Smells great, doesn’t it? I love the smell of white poppies.” It’s then that Taeyong’s mind remembers the white flowers that were in the first bouquet that he received from you as well as the meaning of the flowers. Finally taking in his surroundings, Taeyong realises that it’s not just a field of flowers but a field of dead bodies. 

“Y’know Taeyong, I used to be sad thinking that I was going to have to go forever without ever getting to see these gorgeous flowers. But because of you and the war your family started, all of these dead bodies were able to sit here and grow some of the most beautiful flowers I have ever seen.” By now you have picked up a whole bouquet worth of the poppies, little pieces of rotted flesh hanging off of the bottoms, “Too bad I had to die before I got to see them.” 

After hearing her last sentence Taeyong takes a good look at the girl, noticing that the white poppies she had collected were all from her body. “Y’know maybe you should die too so you can fully witness the beauty of these flowers,” you say with a slight tilt to not only your voice but your head. 

Before he can question it you’re already driving a spear through Taeyong’s heart. 

~

“Taeyong you look like absolute shit. Do you really think you should be going into town like that?” The bags under Taeyong’s eyes look bigger and heavier than the robe on his shoulders. It has been a week since you dropped off the bouquet without a note.  

“Yes, Doyoung. It’s been a month, we don’t want people to worry.” 

“Funny. You say you don’t want them to worry but you look like the living dead. They’ll worry either way.” The guard rebutts, crossing his arms sassily.

“Doie, I don’t have the time nor the energy to argue with you, just please can we go?” 

“That’s just it. You always have time and energy to argue with me! Taeyong, it’s been a week; it was just one note out of hundreds. Who knows; maybe she just forgot to put it in the bouquet, but regardless of what happened you can't keep moping around and carrying yourself like this. You’re an emperor, for pete’s sake! What will you do when she stops bringing the bouquets?”

Taeyong freezes. What will he do? He can't expect you to deliver bouquets forever, can he? At some point you’ll get tired of it, tired of him, and what will he do then? Standing straight, Taeyong makes his way out of the palace, head held impossibly high. 

“I- dammit Taeyong I didn’t mean it like-”

“No. You’re right, I can’t expect her to always bring the bouquets, that's selfish of me.” I can't always expect her to be here. It's selfish to expect her to be here. “Come on, we have people to see,” he says, climbing inside of the carriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally done unpacking your clothes from the last minute trip you had to take last week, you plop onto your bed, completely beat. One of the families you delivered medicine to ran out suddenly and you had to rush to their house so that their child did not die. You spent the rest of the week nursing the child back to health after they had to go without medicine.  

The thing is, you got the message in the middle of making the emperor’s bouquet for that week and you didn’t have the time to make a note to put in the bouquet. Even though you know that the emperor doesn’t receive the bouquets at all, you still felt the guilt sitting in the pit of your stomach that entire week. 

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you’re woken by a series of rushed knocks on your pharmacy door. Getting out of bed reluctantly, you grab your apron, tying it around your waist and walking to the door in order to go see who it is. 

“Chamomile Pharmacy, how may I–” you start opening the door until you get sight of the person on the other side and quickly slam the door back in place. Why was Emperor Taeyong at your door?!? And why did you just slam the door in his face? Reopening the door, you start bowing and apologizing to the seemingly starstruck emperor at once. “I-I am so sorry Your Highness, I didn’t mean to do that, it’s just you caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it to be you behind the door,” you hurriedly attempt to explain until Taeyong is knocked out of the way by his royal guard Doyoung. 

“We don’t have time for this right now. You can have your little–whatever this is later. We need you to make more of this medicine for Mr. Young immediately. We showed up at his house right as he passed out and this was on his counter!”        

Grabbing the bottle, you realize this is the heart elixir you made him some time ago, “Shit! Okay I’ll be right back. I need to go grab something out of the garden first,” You quickly tell the men, writing at the speed of light on a piece of paper. “Here, while I’m getting that I need you two to look and find these in that cabinet over there. I need everything ready for when I get back so I can quickly get this to him.” 

Rushing out into the garden, you quickly sort through various plants until you find the two you’re looking for. You barge back into the pharmacy to see that Doyoung and the emperor got a little over half of the ingredients down. “Okay, even though everything isn’t down yet I’m going to go ahead and get started. One of you, continue to look for everything while the other comes over here and gives me a hand. We have to hurry.” You are so focused on getting the medicine done that you don’t even notice Taeyong handing you the supplies. 

Finishing up the elixir and gathering all of the utensils, you stuff them into your rucksack and run out of the door. “We rode horses over here, it’s faster than on foot. Hop on Taeyong’s; we have to go,” Doyoung all but commands as he mounts his horse, already taking off. The adrenaline pumping through your system helps to keep you calm about the fact that you now have your arms wrapped around Taeyong’s waist and are currently on a horse with him. 

In no time you’re riding up to Mr. Young's homely brick house, the one that he and his late wife built back when they were younger. Pushing your way into the house, you see the old man lying on a cot on the floor. Taking everything out, you lie it on a towel next to you on the floor and pull on a pair of gloves. 

Quickly checking the old man's pulse, you let out a breath in relief that it’s still there but very faint. You take a pair of medical scissors and cut his shirt open. Grabbing the bottle containing the green elixir and a needle syringe you urgently but carefully extract some of the liquid from the bottle. At this point the silence in the room is deafening, but you’re only able to hear the white noise buzzing in your ears, blocking out any and all distractions. 

You check and make sure that it’s the right amount before giving the syringe a slight squeeze, pushing a few drops of the liquid out of the needle. Taking a deep breath, you harshly stab the needle into the man’s chest, forcing the liquid through the needle, unknowingly garnering stiff gasps from those who are watching. You immediately retract the syringe only to place your hand on the same spot, firmly yet softly massaging it. 

After massaging for a couple of minutes you sit back, bated breaths falling from your lips. “You can take him to his room now, he needs to rest. I’ll go make some tea for everyone.” Gathering your supplies, you take them to the kitchen to disinfect and sterilize them. Behind the doors of the kitchen you finally feel yourself calm down and it’s then that you notice the intense way in which your hands are shaking.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was going fine, and he was almost done making his rounds with everyone. One of the last people he had to meet with was Mr. Young, the sweet old man who always made him help pick things out of his garden, and that’s when the day took a turn. Was it for the worse? Taeyong didn’t know yet. Walking in on the man passed out on the floor shook Taeyong to his core. When he and Doyoung finally noticed the empty bottle on the countertop, they read the label which stated the pharmacy where the medicine was from. 

From there, they took two of the guard’s horses and were off to find the pharmacy. It’s there that Taeyong found you, though the circumstances were less than great. He still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him, but the moment was over after Doyoung realized what was happening. Now that everything had calmed down and Mr. Young was okay, the fact that you were just a few steps away in the kitchen was eating at the emperor. 

“I don’t get why you just don’t go in there and talk to her.” Doyoung spoke suddenly, sounding bored with his life after noticing the way in which the king fidgeted in his chair, eyes constantly flitting to look back and forth from the kitchen door to his feet. 

“I mean, it’s not like she can do anything; you’re an emperor for god’s sake. Unless you want to continue being a creepy stalker, I suggest you go in there and tell her that you’ve been receiving her bouquets and you like them or some shit like that.” 

“I-I can’t just barge in there and–”

“He only had jasmine tea in his cabinets, so I hope there’s nothing wrong with that,” you say, walking into the living room with a tray of tea-filled cups in your hands. 

“Jasmine is fine,” Doyoung replied, simultaneously leaning down to pick up his cup. Taeyong suddenly couldn’t speak as you looked at him expectantly, wanting to make sure he was okay with jasmine tea. All he could do was look up at your glowing face with eyes that might as well be in the shape of hearts. “Ah jasmine is good for him as well. Forgive my liege, he's still a little shaken up from the situation.” 

With a soft nod you turn around, moving to make your way back into the kitchen. It was then that Taeyong’s mouth and mind decided to move as one. “Wait! Where are you going?”  

“Oh, uhm, I was going back to the kitchen. I figured you two would want to be alone,” you say, almost cradling the board to your body, gesturing awkwardly towards the door. 

“You don’t have to.  Why don’t you sit in here, with us?” 

“I mean, if you’re fine with that.”

“I’m fine, I’m more than fine.” The words were out of Taeyong’s mouth before he could even process them fully. You move to sit on the other side of the loveseat beside Taeyong. 

The sound of purposeful slurping provided by Doyoung barely sufficed at cutting the tension in the room. “I just remembered, we never seemed to have gotten your name?” Doyoung asked, ending the silence that layered the house. 

Quickly swallowing the tea in your mouth, you reply “Oh, I’m sorry, how rude of me, my name is Y/n. I’m the owner of Chamomile Pharmacy.” You add a bright smile at the end.

“Owner, huh? You must really like medicine.”  

“Hmm, I guess you could say that, but not really. I mainly just like flowers, and growing up I realized all the medicinal benefits they hold, so I figured why not make money and spend my life surrounded by what I love?” You sit back in the seat, seemingly comfortable now that you’re talking about a passion. “I get to help people while surrounded by plants all day; it’s a win-win.” 

“Mmhm, that sounds lovely. Oh, Taeyong.” The king’s head practically snaps up at the mention of his name. Spotting the mischievous look in his best friend's eyes, his stomach practically dropped to the floor. “You love flowers as well, specifically roses. Don’t you, Your Highness?” 

“I–”

“Yeah, I distinctly remember your love for roses starting after receiving a bouquet full of them every week.” Doyoung had no idea that this was the flower girl at first, but Taeyong could tell by the way he had been acting ever since you came around that he had come to piece it together–especially after you blatantly declared your love for flowers just a few mere seconds ago. 

At his words, your mouth fell open in pure unadulterated shock. The emperor had been receiving your bouquets?! And he liked them? You had no idea how to feel with all of the mixed emotions flowing through you. 

Wide eyed, you ask, “You’ve been receiving my bouquets, Your Highness?” 

Taeyong is flustered when he replies, “Y-Yes I have, they are very… nice. Thank you for them.”

“He really likes the little love notes you put in them,” Doyoung adds, deliberately putting the word love in front of notes. At his words, Taeyong throws the harshest glare he could at the other man, wishing he could strangle him with his eyes alone. 

While Taeyong was glaring daggers at the knight, you couldn’t help but feel sheepish. You thought you were giving those flowers away for nothing, only to realize that the emperor had been getting them and he liked them. Then you remembered that you had forgotten the note in your last one. 

“Ah, I just remembered that I forgot to put a note in the last one.” You speak bashfully, lowering your head. “Well, I didn’t forget, per say, I just didn’t have the time–an emergency came up while I was making it and I had to hurry. I didn’t think it would matter that much since you weren’t getting them, but now I know you were, so I feel bad.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand. There’s no need for you to feel bad, things happen.” Taeyong finally speaks, not liking the obvious way in which you blame yourself. Standing up, he motions to a door, stating that he has to use the restroom.

The room sits silent at Taeyong’s absence. You still feel guilty, but before you can think too hard about it, Doyoung shocks you out of your thoughts with a  question, “Y/n, why do you always give roses?”

“Hm? Oh, why roses? Well that's easy, because he’s The Rose Emperor .” Doyoung lifts an eyebrow in question. “Ah, I forgot that I’m the only one who calls him that,” you explain quickly. “Well, one of the reasons is because he has this beautiful rose-shaped scar right under his right eye. And I mean, he’s like a rose. Pretty and elegant and practically harmless to the unsuspecting eye, but he has thorns, which he uses to keep people away, thorns he uses to hide things from everyone, even those closest…”You trail off for a moment, thinking. “Hmm, if you think about it that way, wouldn’t that mean we're all like roses?” You speak nonchalantly, looking somewhat deeply into your cup of tea. “So that would make this world a bed of roses, wouldn’t it?” 

Standing but a few feet away, hiding behind a wall, the man in question couldn’t help but overhear. The way you talked and the words you used to describe him made his heart pound. You sounded so sweet and genuine, and he couldn’t help but believe every word you said. His hand uncontrollably caresses the scar you mentioned. He never noticed that it looked like a rose. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Doyoung, I need to borrow some of your clothes.” Busting into the guard’s room, the emperor pants quickly, garnering the man’s attention. 

“Wha–for what?”

“No questions, I just need them,” the young ruler says, walking into the man's wardrobe. “Oh and if you have a hat and mask, I’m going to take those, too.”

Taeyong’s presence in the shop is known as soon as he walks through the door, a bell ringing upon contact. Hurriedly pretending to scan the shelves as if searching extremely hard for something, Taeyong hears you enter the room through the back door moments later. 

“Sorry for not greeting you as soon as you came in. I was doing a little gardening in the back. Is there anything I can help you with today?” you ask, simultaneously washing the slight dirt off of your hands at the sink.

Knowing it would be rude to not acknowledge you, Taeyong turns to face you, self-consciously tugging on the mask resting on his face, not knowing if he wants you to know it’s him or not. You walk over after drying your hands, ready to help the customer, finally getting a good look at the man’s mask-covered face. You freeze in your spot, not knowing if you are just delusional or if Emperor Taeyong is actually standing in the middle of your pharmacy. 

“Uhh Your Highness..?” you question slowly, giving the stranger room to deny if needed. 

“I–uhmm yes,” Taeyong stutters, taking the mask off of his face, revealing his apparently not-so-secret identity. Despite breathing just fine a few seconds ago, Taeyong seems to not be able to when you give him a dazzling smile. You ask him why he’s here and if he needs anything. “Yes, I’m here because I, uhh, need something to help with… headaches! Yes, I get headaches, y’know, from reading papers all day.”

“I have just the thing to help with that! I get headaches myself, and I find that the plant Feverfew helps a good bit. The plant itself can be a little strong and could cause irritation to the mouth if chewed, so I just grind it up and make a nice little diluted concoction with it, and it does wonders,” you say, grabbing the bottle containing the liquid, placing it on the counter, and making your way to the other side so you could bag the medicine.

“I must warn you, though–it can have very light side effects that can cause nausea, digestive problems, and bloating.” Finishing up you place the now bagged medicine on the counter sliding it over to Taeyong. 

“Ah, how much do I owe?” 

“Nonsense, you’re good, consider it the Monarch's discount.” Thanking you, the emperor grabs the bag, making his way out the door, “Bye, come again.” 

After the first time, Taeyong continued to visit the store, each time for a different reason. He stayed a little longer each time he visited, finding himself wanting to indulge in your presence more and more. Even when you would go to the palace to deliver your weekly bouquets he would come out now just to start a conversation with you. You both would end up just sitting on the palace steps talking for hours on end. 

Now was one of the times when you would sit outside the palace talking with the king.  

“Your Highness, word was just sent in from the WayV kingdom, and there are forms to be signed urgently.” Doyoung addressed the young emperor, throwing an apologetic look at you for ruining your time together. 

A breath falls past your lips as you push yourself up. “Oh well, I guess that’s my cue to leave. See you later, Your High-” 

“Wait. Why don’t you come inside with me? This shouldn’t take too long.” 

You and Doyoung gape at the emperor, both in shock. Wanting to hurry and get things settled, Taeyong passes both of your almost statuesque bodies. Doyoung offers to show you around while Taeyong does his work but the emperor quickly refuses. “I’ll do it when I finish.”

Grabbing your wrist, Taeyong all but drags you to his office. There are so many twists and turns that you have no idea how Taeyong didn’t get lost. “You can sit over there on the couch in the foyer. I have some books on the shelf over there you can read if you want. I'll be right here behind this desk.”  

Taking in the extravagant office, you can’t help but notice how roses cover almost every single open surface possible. He really did keep every rose he got from you. Just that thought alone makes your heart pound so hard that you can hear it beating in your ears. Deciding you should do something before you look weird, you walk over to the shelf, surveying the books available to you. 

You pick a book that looks good enough and sit down on the couch.You try to focus on the words in front of you, but the room is warm, and the couch is comfortable, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you felt Taeyong gently shaking you awake. The sun had started to set, casting a beautiful warm golden glow around the room. 

 Taeyong sat beside you on the couch, still grasping your shoulder as you both stared intensely at each other. You felt yourself slowly leaning towards the beautiful man, almost as if you were in a trance. Taeyong couldn’t help but take in every gorgeous feature on your face as it was surrounded by a golden halo.

Moving his hands from your shoulder to the nape of your neck he pulls you in, no longer able to hide the attraction he has for you. Your lips mingled in a dance only privy to them. Leaving the one on your neck the other moves to the side of your face, Taeyong positions you just how he wants and you couldn’t help but to give in to him.  

It was as if his entire being consumed you and you had no choice but to follow his lead. Removing his mouth from yours he steadily transitions his lips lower splaying damp kisses all around your jugular. “Y-your highness, m-maybe we should stop.”

“Call me Taeyong darling and I don’t want to stop if you don’t.” he says, eyes flitting up to look at yours. “Do you want to stop?”

Feeling a fire burning in your stomach setting your lower regions ablaze, you know you can’t give him anything but the truth, “No, I don’t want to stop Taeyong.” Taeyong’s satisfied hum rumbles against your collarbone, “That’s my girl.” 

His lips find their way back to yours, an involuntary moan falling from yours as Taeyong pushes his tongue inside your mouth. He takes his time exploring your mouth as if he wanted to get acquainted with every nook and cranny. When he took his lips away this time it was as if he took your soul right with him. A small discontent whine leaves your mouth causing the male to coo, “Aww look at my precious rose, so needy already.”

He plants a small peck on your lips pushing you to lay back on the couch, “May I remove your pants darling?” Giving him a small head nod he starts to lower himself down to your now wet core. Your underwear comes off right along with your pants and the slightly cool air hitting your hot core feels almost heavenly. 

Lifting your legs on top of his shoulders Taeyong plants soft kisses along your pelvic region finally deciding to stop teasing he licks a long slow stripe up your wet pussy making sure to give a little more pressure right onto your clit. 

Taeyong’s hands move to sit in the crevice of your pelvis, tightening his grip simultaneously bringing you closer to his mouth as he proceeds to contort his tongue between your soft lips as a pianist moves their fingers across the keys aiming to hit the right notes to make you sing.

Your voice cracks almost violently as endless moans drip from your lips like sap out a tree. Eyes sealed shut you can’t help but to see stars as Taeyong makes you feel like you’re on top of the world. His soft hair rests between your fingers latching onto the strands for dear life as you attempt to somehow ground yourself. 

If he wasn’t holding you down you know for a fact that you would be humping his face akin to a dog in heat. “Fuck.” he moans between your legs sending vibrations all the way down your body. Suckling your lips between his as he looks up at your face scrunched in pleasure, “Open your eyes baby, look at me.” 

You should not have had as much trouble as you did opening your eyes but after a few seconds you finally were able to do so. “I want you to focus on me baby, watch me eat this succulent pussy of yours until you cum.” One of his hands moves, transitioning to start rubbing your clit applying ample pressure. 

His tongue starts to prod at the opening to the place in which you seemed to want him the most right now. The combination of his mouth and hands was too much and you felt your legs start shaking as you alerted Taeyong of your oncoming orgasm. “That’s it baby, cum for me. I want to see it.” 

You didn’t even know your voice could go as high as it did in that moment. Your labored breaths were halted as Taeyong pressed his wet lips to yours causing you to taste yourself on his lips. “You still up for that tour?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your Highness, there have been reports of an outbreak of some sorts. For right now it’s small but we have no idea what it is or where it came from.” Doyoung says, ending his report on current events. 

“Okay, since this is something we have no prior dealings with we need to tread carefully. Get everyone who might be infected and make sure they’re getting proper care. Talk to them, see what their symptoms are and ask what they were doing before they got sick. Maybe we can try and piece together how you contract it.”  

“Should we alert the public, Your Highness?” 

“No, not for now at least. This is still manageable. We don't want to scare everyone for no reason.” Finishing up his duties, Taeyong starts to head to your house. 

You had yet to talk to Taeyong about what happened that day despite having seen each other multiple times since then. Not like you regretted it or anything you just felt bad about Taeyong servicing you and you not being able to return the favor. You were interrupted in the middle of your naughty thoughts when you heard soft knocks ring against the door not to the pharmacy but to your house placed on the side of the pharmacy. 

Answering the door you only expected to see one person on the other side of the door. “Hi Taeyong.” you breathe softly gazing at the male opposite you. 

“Hello my rose.” placing a kiss on his lips you let him enter the room. Taeyong pulls two books out from his bag and you hurriedly rush over to where Taeyong sits on your bed grabbing your book as Taeyong pulls you onto his lap. Reading for a while your mind can’t help but to go back to what happened. 

Taeyong can feel the air in the room change as you squirm on his lap. “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” 

“Uhh nothing Yongie.” 

Grabbing a hold of your waist Taeyong lowers his head to your ear, “It doesn’t feel like nothing darling.” His warm breath hits your ears as he slowly lets his tongue dart out and lick a stripe up the shell of your ear. 

“I- just want to pleasure you as well. Last time you only focused on me and I want to return the favor.” you speak turning around in the male’s lap legs wrapping around his waist. You bring the male into a feverous/feverish? Kiss. You hear his breath hitch as you slowly grind down onto his semi hard dick, and you feel the grip he has on your waist tighten. 

Moving yourself to Taeyong’s thigh instead of his entire lap. You maneuver his pants off leaving his boxers on. You slip your hand between your bodies reaching for Taeyong’s boxer clad cock. Lightly squeezing while massaging his length you lean forward gingerly planting kisses along his neck swirling your tongue on each spot you kiss. 

“Shit Y/n.”

“You want me to take it out, Yongie? Do you want me to wrap my hands around your hard dick and rub you till you cum all over my hands.” you tease applying more pressure to his hard appendage, “Hmm maybe I’ll even let you watch me lick your cum off of my hands.” 

“Oh Fuck yes.” 

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me baby.” 

“Hmm please baby, please take it out and make me cum.”

You grin, squeezing his now fully hard cock harder, “Well since you asked so nicely.”  Your hand moves to the band of his boxers removing the clothing. His erect penis pops up, slapping the male’s clothed abdomen after finally being released.

You let a few drops of spit fall onto the palm of your hand before giving Taeyong what he wants, gripping him. You slowly start to work your hand up and down his stiff cock fluctuating the strength you use to grip it.

“How does that feel Tae? Are you enjoying yourself sweetheart?” you whisper in his ear speeding up your ministrations. A broken moan falls from the semi pouted lips of the emperor. The feel of your hand gripping his cock felt like heaven he could barely think. 

The slick sound of your hand going up and down his dick was all that could be heard throughout the room. Taking your other hand you begin to not only stroke his length but also fondle his balls. “Ah, Y/n I’m not going to last much longer please make me cum.” Wanting to give him what he wanted you run the pad of your thumb along the underside of him and slowly massage the bundle of nerves just under the head. 

As soon as you do, a whimper leaves Taeyong’s lips as his head falls forward resting on your shoulder. His mouth starts sucking on any pieces of exposed skin he can find and you feel him mumble against your shoulder, “I’m cumming.” His warm release falls onto your hands covering them as you try to squeeze out every last drop. Raising your hand to your mouth you lick some of the cum off of your hand tasting him. 

“Fuck sweetie you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Taeyong. It’s gotten worse. The illness has started spreading; our attempt at keeping it contained was a failure. While it did slow the spread, it did nothing to stop it.”

Slamming his hand on the desk Taeyong couldn’t help but to curse, “Fuck! Did you at least figure out how it’s contracted and its symptoms?” 

“Yes, after questioning the patients it became pretty clear that it wasn’t contracted in any specific way. Almost all have reports of having been in public settings surrounded by a lot of people and said a few days later they caught a pretty nasty cold. Instead of it going away like a normal cold does, it started to get worse, pretty soon they couldn't move at all, not even lift a finger. After developing hot flashes, they start to lose the ability to speak, and you know they are about to die when they start to have rashes appear upon their skin.” 

“Have you asked the doctors if they can find a cure?” 

“Yes, we have already put them onto it, but for now there is nothing.”

Thinking about what he should do, Taeyong's hand comes up to scratch his jawline. He knows that he has to alert the public of the outbreak now. “Okay, since there is no discernible way in which they get it, we can assume for now that it is passed from excessive human contact. Doyoung, I need you to release a statement stating that there should be no excessive contact between everyone. If able to avoid big crowds then stay away.” 

Writing the commands down in a notebook, Doyoung asks, “Anything else?” 

“Yes, since it has gotten a lot bigger now, the public must be alerted, even though by now I am sure they have each heard their own variations of what’s happening. It’s better to tell them the truth than lie. We need everyone to be fully informed with correct information so that they don’t make things worse.” A tired sigh falls from his lips, “Release a doctor’s statement. I want the royal doctor to make a statement that will tell the public all they need to know about this new illness so they can protect themselves.”

“On it, Your Highness.” Doyoung says, turning around and quickly heading out the door. You were supposed to come visit Taeyong today. He's glad he gets to see you. You always make things better for him. You walk into Taeyong’s office to him writing something in a notebook. He was so involved in what he was writing that he didn’t hear you come in.  

“Hey Yongie.” Walking over to the male, you see him raise his head from the paper, looking at you with a dazzling smile. 

“Hello, beautiful.” Taeyong pulls you into his lap, “How was your day, my rose?” You start rambling on about what was going on at the pharmacy, and Taeyong finds himself zoning out looking at you talking animatedly about a customer you had today. It’s times like these where Taeyong realizes he could never live his life without you. 

Taeyong has been really busy lately, dealing with the disease outbreak. You guys have hardly seen each other. New word had been put out about the disease after one of the people who are believed to have gotten it first were found. Sadly they were on their last string, but their family said something about them eating a strange fruit some odd days before they had gotten sick. 

Business for you has practically skyrocketed, people hurrying to get all types of medicines just out of plain fear that they might contract the disease. Even though there is no cure yet, they still think that arthritis medicine will somehow help them. 

You had secretly been working on your own attempt at creating a cure, wanting to help Taeyong and get some of the pressure off of his shoulders and wanting to help the people affected by this disease. Of course it has gotten nowhere, but at least you try. 

You had asked Taeyong what the fruit that their family said they ate looked like in hopes of being able to find it and base an antidote off of that. He gave you the same description they gave him, but it didn’t lead anywhere. Noticing how empty the pharmacy had become, you felt it was the perfect time to go pick up some bread. 

Flipping the sign and locking the door you head towards the bakery. Ever since the decree had been made for people to not group together, the streets had been the emptiest you had ever seen. Walking in, you couldn’t help but notice the other people that stood around talking waiting on their baked goods. Putting in your order, you stand off to the side. 

“You know, they say that Emperor Taeyong has caught the disease.”

“What?! You can’t be serious.” 

“Why would I joke about something like that?” the first lady says, looking well over offended. “I have a friend who has a cousin who has a brother who has a boyfriend that works in the palace.” 

“Woah, so you basically know the emperor.” 

“Exactly. I swear on it, the emperor has the disease.” You proceed to tune out the gossiping women on the other side of the room. You know that there’s a good chance the lady is lying, but what if Taeyong has the disease? He hasn’t come to visit in a few days. You feel your chest constrict at the mere thought. 

You’re so distraught that you don’t hear the baker telling you your order is ready until after she walks up to you and hands you your bread. “Oh, uhh thank you.” Giving the lady a small nod, you walk out of the bakery.

When you get back to the house, you check for mail and find some in the mailbox next to your door. Picking it up, you notice the royal insignia on the envelope. Figuring it’s from Taeyong, you instantly start to tear it open.

Hello my rose, I don’t know how to say this to you, but I’m sick, really sick. I got the disease. I’m so sorry darling. Worst of all is I can’t even see you. I absolutely forbid you from coming here. Do you hear me? From now until we meet again, we can communicate by letter. I love you so much, my rose. 

Love, Your Yongie

As your mind slowly starts to register the note, your knees instantly give out, bringing you to the floor of your living room. You can barely register the sting from the impact. You couldn’t help but let out a broken gut-wrenching cry. Your tears feel like fire as they run down your face. You clutch your heart; it’s as if you can feel it breaking. 

Everyday Taeyong sends you a letter and everyday you put it in the pile with the others. It broke your heart every time you would put the letters unopened together with the others and never wrote a response back, but recently you had thrown your entire being into finding a cure for the disease. You couldn’t risk another breakdown like when you first found out, because every single second matters. 

Every second you spend trying to find a cure brings you closer to a forever with Taeyong, and you couldn’t risk that. You still open and run the pharmacy like normal, but even then you spend all of your time asking customers everything they know about the disease and whatever anyone they knew who had it was going through. 

Lately, the way you’ve been going at it was to find the fruit that supposedly started it all and find out why the human body reacts so badly to it. You just managed to find it yesterday while you were out in the forest for the third time hunting for it. You were planning to do some tests and see what you possibly can do. 

A series of harsh knocks rain upon the pharmacy door and the irritation at the possible customer shows on your face. “I’m sorry but we’re clo–” Your sentence stops abruptly as Doyoung harshly shoves past you, the anger and tension in his body evident.

“You know, you have some fucking nerve. Taeyong is literally dying right now, he is fucking dying yet he still manages to write you everyday. And on days when he can’t muster the strength he gets someone to write what he says.” Whipping his body around he faces you, face scrunched in a horrendous snarl, “And you can’t even take the time to write a fucking letter back. All you do is sit in this pharmacy and play in your stupid garden all day.”

It’s then that he notices the pile of letters sitting neatly on your desk, a scoff pushes its way past his lips, “Oh my fucking god, you didn’t have the decency to even open them. Have you ever even loved him? Tell me. Honestly.” He stares directly into your eyes, the fire in them seemingly endless. “Or was he just some toy? A part in some plan you had to get rich and become an empress or some shit. Did you just use my best friend for your own selfish reasons?” 

Your mouth opens, preparing to say something only for it to close again. Repeating that process multiple times you find out that there were no words you could say that would satisfy him. “And it’s funny because if that was your plan, then it worked. I know you don’t know but Taeyong planned to propose, he wanted–no, wants to spend the rest of his life with you. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but oh well.” At his statement, your mouth falls open again, leaving you utterly speechless. 

A moment of silence passes and a heavy sigh from the male fills the air. He stares tiredly at your desk, exasperated. “He’s dying, simple as that. Doctor says he doesn’t have much longer before the rashes start popping up. His estimate was at most two weeks.” With his face angled away from you, the tears that streamed down his face weren’t visible. “Do what you will with that information. I don’t have the time for this.” 

Turning his body, Doyoung walks out the door, leaving a chill in the air. You don’t even have it in you to cry. Your sorrow runs farther than any river in the world, yet the thought that kept you from breaking down was Taeyong’s smile. Then you realized you would never be able to see it again if there was no cure. Swiping  away the tears that managed to fall, you get back to work. Taeyong wasn’t going to die on your watch. 

Your chest felt so tight, like it was squeezing all of the air out of your lungs. You could barely feel the shock of your heavy footfalls on the pavement as you ran like your life depended on it. The steps to the palace have never seemed longer as you ran, hoping you made it in time. Passing guards all were blurs as you swore you were running at the speed of light. 

Making your way to Taeyong’s room, you see a distraught Doyoung crouched outside of the door. His silent cries cued your heart to fall to your aching feet. Barely able to get the words out you ask, “Am I too late, is-is he g-gone?” Your voice broke as you spoke those words. Doyoung doesn’t say anything as he silently raises his head to look at you. “I can’t be late. I-I found it, I found the cure. I have the cure to save Taeyong.” 

Not able to withstand Doyoung’s gaze, you burst through the king’s bedroom doors, instantly spotting the palace doctor at his bed. Taeyong lays lifelessly on the bed, chest barely managing to move up and down. This was not the Taeyong you knew, not the man you fell in love with. This man was just but a shell of him. You had never seen his skin so pale, his face sunken in to the point where you can easily see his cheekbones you loved to rain kisses on. 

“Doctor.” Your gaze shifts from the sleeping male to the doctor beside him, “He’s not… dead, is he?”

“No, not yet, but I do recommend you give your last goodbyes.” 

Walking up the man, you forcefully push the vial containing the cure into his hands, “Here, this is the cure.” Broken stutters leave the man's mouth as he questions the integrity of your statement. “Listen, we don’t have a lot of time; just trust that it will work. I have tested it on five different people, all of varying ages, and four out of five of those people survived. The only reason the fifth didn’t was because they were too far gone.” 

You update the doctor on what the antidote is and what it does. “The antidote is not a cure per say, it doesn’t get rid of the disease. I studied the fruit that the disease stems from and something in the DNA of it, let's just say it doesn't agree with something in our DNA, which causes basically an allergic reaction times 100. This antidote soothes the part of our DNA that reacts so badly, and that in turn stops the allergic reaction so that it doesn’t kill us. Now that I’ve wasted time explaining that to you, can we please get the antidote in his system?”

All of your talking caused the sickly emperor to awaken to your voice in the room with him. “Y/n, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to not come here. I-” 

“Taeyong, calm down, baby, please. I am here to save you.” You nod to the doctor giving him the go for the injection. “The doctor is about to inject the cure for the disease into you, then you’re going to get better for me, okay?”

After administering the shot, Taeyong had fallen asleep again from lack of energy. It had been 10 hours and you sat every single one on his bedside, wanting to be the first to see him. In those 10 hours, you told the doctor how to make more of the cure so that he could get it to everyone, and Doyoung finally came into the room after hearing what you had done, and gave you a proper apology for snapping at you. 

You feel a hand grip yours, and you snap your head up to see Taeyong looking back at you with a smile as big as he could conjure right now placed on his face. Quickly handing him some water, you start to question how he feels. Telling you he feels the best he has in weeks was good enough to satiate you for now. 

When Taeyong had finally convinced you to lay in bed with him, you chose this moment to give him his answer. 

“Yes.” A look of confusion covers Taeyong’s face as he wonders what you are saying yes to. “Yes, I will marry you.”  

You and Taeyong decided not to have a huge wedding, instead choosing to hold a ceremony with just a few of your closest friends, but you did have to present yourself to the empire now as the new empress.

“Are you ready, my rose?” Taeyong asks, walking up behind you in front of the mirror, enclosing his arms around your waist. You turn around to look at him directly, taking in his attire. 

“Why do you have such a heavy robe?” you question, noticing the heavy piece of clothing. You’d always wondered that whenever you would see him out of the palace. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Taeyong plants a kiss upon your cheek, “I-I don’t know it’s just customary, I never thought to change it.”

“Well, for my first decree as empress, I declare that you get a new robe, a lighter one.” you say, dusting the imaginary dust off of his shoulders. “You don’t need to have such a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can tell it weighs you down. I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“Will do, my empress. Come, we have to go now.” 

It was getting to the last leg of the parade the citizens held in your honor. You felt so welcome by everyone. You were expecting people to hate you because you weren’t already a royal before you married Taeyong. “How are you holding up, darling? I know these things can take a lot out of people.”

“I am fine, my love, just slightly tired.” You can’t help but wave at every person you see, feeding off of their enthusiasm. Overcome with emotion, Taeyong can’t help it when he cradles your face in his hands, lowering his head whilst tilting yours to give him room, and plants a loving kiss upon your cheek. Your cheeks were on fire at his public display of affection in front of everyone, yet you found yourself fully indulging in the kiss, closing your eyes in hopes of savoring the moment. The kiss caused an uproar within the crowd, the citizens ecstatic at the relationship between you both. 

“Taeyong, what was that earlier today? Why’d you kiss me?” 

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help it when I saw you and how happy you looked waving at everyone,” he explains pulling you into another kiss, but this time on the lips. Slowly the kiss becomes heated and you start pawing at each other's clothes, almost ripping them off. Taeyong plants kisses along your neck as you begin to fondle his soft manhood. 

You feel Taeyong’s hand slide to your cunt rubbing your clit, “Looks like someones already ready for me. I wonder who made you this wet sweetie.” he taunts, slowly pressing one finger inside of you then a second curving them up and spreading them out in order to stretch your tight hole. Your low breathy moans fill the room bouncing off of each and every wall. 

Pretty soon you both are ready, blindly walking yourself to the bed you land on the soft cushion with an oomph. Taeyong slowly grinds his now hard cock up and down your slit puposely prodding at your clit. You wriggle your hips silently begging the male to hurry up and put it in. 

Giving into you because he was just as excited Taeyong finally slides himself in, his stiffness getting completely engulfed by your wet hot cavern. “Mmm, I’ll never get used to how well your needy pussy takes me in baby.” His slow thrusts simultaneously scratching that itch but just enough to make it come back for more.

“Harder Tae, I need to feel you wreck me.” Granting your wish taeyong stops the gentle loving strokes, swapping them out for a harsher more unforgiving thrusts. His hips smack yours as Taeyong puts what feels like all the power he has in his thrusts. You close your eyes and see stars as Taeyong fucks your soul out of you. His hands have an unforgiving grip on your waist, one going up to massage your breast, teasing your nipple.

Taeyong starts laying kisses along your body leaving purple spots in his wake. “ I want everyone to see that you are mine and I am yours forever and always.” Whispering in your ear, “Go ahead and cum for me baby, let everyone know what we’re doing so they can see who you belong to.” 

You all but scream Taeyong’s name out in pure ecstasy as you cum the hardest you ever have to date. It felt as if you had been transported to another world. Taeyong cums right behind you filling you to the brim with his seed. “It’s a little too late to say this now but I think it’s about time we start thinking about children.” He says pulling himself out of your now swollen lower region. 

“Oh my god shut up, I hate you,” you cry, out rolling your eyes

“I love you too, my rose.” 

#nct taeyong #taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #taeyong smut #nct 127 Taeyong #nct x reader #nct taeyong smut #nct taeyong fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #nct u fluff #nct u smut #nct 2020 #nct 127 #bed of roses #MY STORIES

[shorkbrian]

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g 

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t.  But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect.  How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed.  The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged  with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same  attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before.  A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words.  There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.

#kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #bnha kirishima #kirishima x you #yandere #Yandere kirishima #tw.death #tw.suicide

[lemonlushff-iy]

Posted a few teasers for some Writer Asks, so...

Inuyasha burst into the men's bathroom, bracing his shaky hands on the ledge of the sink.

This...This couldn't be happening. Could it? It...He knew it was possible...That it would happen one day...But...now?

He reached over the sink to turn on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face and dampening his silver bangs. He'd hoped it would help...But...He still felt light headed. Shaken. Trembling. His breathing was ragged, and he looked...about as big a mess as he felt.

Because the shirt he was wearing...

His shirt was red.

"It's...it's ok," he mumbled, looking at himself in the mirror - the bright red of his cotton button down glaring back at him like a beacon in the night. It was the most jarring thing in his world. His hair was still the same silvery grey it had always been. His eyes the same shade of grey.

The rest of his world...it was still...

Grey.

But his shirt...

No. His fucking shirt.

It was bright fucking red.

The first color he had ever seen that wasn't grey scale.

He ran his clawed fingers through his bangs, trying to get a hold of himself, but it was hard. It was like his thoughts weren't connecting in his brain, and everything had just gone...blank. He should be excited. Thrilled. Instead, he was fucking terrified.

Because his soulmate was nearby...

...And today was the fucking biggest day of his professional life.

The door to the bathroom burst open, and Inuyasha could smell Sesshomaru before he could see him.

"What the fuck man? Why the hell did y--" he demanded, stopping mid sentence when he could smell his younger brother's nervousness. See the water on his face and clothes. "Yash...what...Are you ok?"

Inuyasha slowly shook his head swallowing. He tried to open his mouth and tell his brother, but the words caught in his throat and he was left floundering. His lips were trying to form words he couldn't actually articulate.

"Inuyasha, what happened," Sesshomaru pressed, taking his shoulders between his large hands. It should have felt comforting...but all it did was make him feel smaller. Like he was a child again, needing is older brother to protect him from the kids at school that made fun of him.

Because he was color blind.

They'd called him a freak. A weirdo. Strange.

All because he couldn't relate to simple questions, like - What's your favorite color? Can you pass me the yellow marker? What do these four things have in common?

Hint - it was the color blue.

Something he couldn't see.

Because he hadn't met his soulmate yet.

But now...now he was seeing red. Literally.

"My shirt," he breathed, and Sesshomaru's face furrowed in confusion.

"What about it? Did you spill something on it? Rip a hole in it? Do we need to trade?"

Inuyasha rapidly shook his head, running his hands down his face.

"It's red," he muttered, and Sesshomaru blinked slowly at him.

"Yeah? So? You knew that when mom gave it to you. What's the big deal?"

"I...No. Sesshomaru. My shirt. It's red."

That time when he said it, really stressing the word "red", he could see it click in his brother's brain.

"Oh...shit..."

"Yeah. I know."

"...Shit!"

"I know!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no fucking idea Sessh! How the hell am I supposed to go out there and try to sell myself and my art in this fucking show, when my fucking soulmate is here!"

"Shit..."

"I know!" he repeated, his ire growing the more they stood there in the bathroom. He was starting to panic. He needed to mix and mingle and socialize...but he had zero desire to do so. Now that he was at least a little calmer over the absolute fucking shock of seeing color for the first time in his life, he only had one desire.

Find his soulmate.

But...if he fucked this show up, his might never be invited to show at this gallery again. He'd spent his entire career as a painter working to get into this place. It was known for its exclusivity. You couldn't be just anyone to show here. You had to be someone.

And he was finally someone...And it had been a hard fucking road to get here. He couldn't fuck this up...but...He also couldn't lose whoever his soulmate was.

Inuyasha watched his brother's lips press into a thin line as he tried to think of a solution, before finally coming to a decision.

"Trade shirts with me."

"I...What?"

"I'm going to pretend to be you," Sesshomaru explained, untucking his shirt from his pants. "You're going to pretend to be me. Just for now. We look almost the same anyways. That's what mom and dad always say."

"We do not! You have a fucking moon in the center of your head, and two stripes on your cheeks - I only have the one. And then there's the ears..."

"I know but...Most people aren't going to remember that shit anyways," he continued, handing his brother his shirt. "If someone knows who you are, what are they going to say? 'He's the dog demon in the red shirt.' I can be the dog demon in the red shirt. It's the best we've got right now...And you haven't been formally introduced yet. You said you never even met the gallery owner!"

"Only assistants," he nodded weakly as Sesshomaru started unbuttoning his shirt for him.

"Perfect. I think we can pull this off for now. It's going to be fine. You just...Need to try and find her. Fast."

Inuyasha nodded numbly as he shrugged his shirt off, handing it to his brother. Sesshomaru's shirt felt warm as he slipped his arms into it. It was an odd thing to notice, but...it felt oddly comforting, as did the scent of his brother enveloping him. It was like a layer of comfort while his entire world was being turned unexpectedly upside down. Even if they couldn't pull this off...he was thankful for his brother and his crazy idea. It was making him feel calmer, at least.

"It's going to be fine Yash...Alright?"

He nodded numbly again.

"Hey. Look at me," Sesshomaru repeated, taking his brother's chin between his fingers. "Let me hear you say it."

"I-it's going to be fine."

Sesshomaru nodded and the corners of his lips quirked up into the slightest of smiles.

"Good."

 FUN FACT. This one was inspired by Bob Ross. Go figure!

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyashafanfic #inukag #indigo hues