#ath is wrong with me

[drrobobitch]

God Im so obsessed with him idek what it is….

Character is Lord Carnvion from Shining armor asmr..dont ask just know I eat that shit up 💀

[garciapimienta]

also I love when masia players feed into my superiority complex

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | vii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, feelings of despair

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a/n: if I cried writing this chapter, ya'll are going to cry too 😭

“This morning, we bring you breaking news about the arrest of a 48-year-old woman involved in a harrowing incident connected to one of the nation's most prominent families. The woman, identified as the former nanny of the Choi Group heiress, was apprehended late last night following her mistaken discharge from Utopia Mental Health Facility.

According to investigators, the woman, whose identity is being withheld due to privacy laws, had been institutionalized after multiple previous incidents involving obsessive behavior toward the heiress and an attempted kidnapping of another six-year-old girl earlier this year…”

You sat quietly at the long wooden table in the conference room, your gaze fixed on the polished floor beneath your feet. The low hum of the news droned on in the background, the anchors’ voices a static blur. Your bandaged arm rested on the table, the gash beneath the wrappings a painful reminder of how wrong everything had gone.

“What are we going to do!?” your mother paced around the room, her voice rising with every word. Your father sat silently at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. San and Jongho exchanged knowing looks, clearly expecting another one of her tirades.

“The press won’t stop hounding us!” she exclaimed, her voice nearly cracking. “They’re everywhere—outside this building, near our home—they’re relentless! I mean, we can’t even breathe without someone taking a picture or shouting questions!”

San leaned forward, his tone calm but firm.“Kira and the firm are already doing everything they can to handle the situation. The best thing we can do now is to have Y/N lay low while the investigation continues. We need to let the lawyers and PR team do their job.”

Your mother whirled around to face him, her frustration palpable. “Lay low? How exactly do you expect her to do that when her face is on every news channel right now?”

She grabbed this morning’s paper from the edge of the table and waved it in the air, the motion so aggressive it crinkled the front page. Your face stared back at you, frozen in a manufactured smile that you hated with every fiber of your being. It wasn’t you—it was the version of you your family wanted the world to see. 

You looked down at your hands, your bandaged arm resting awkwardly on the table. The memory of the attack flashed in your mind, sharp and vivid, as though it had just happened. This wasn’t the kind of attention you wanted—this wasn’t the life you’d ever asked for. Yet here you were, front and center in a drama you had no control over, and it was tearing you apart from the inside out.

“We’re already managing the narrative,” Jongho interjected. 

“The new cycle will shift, it always does. By this afternoon, Kim Namjoon’s official announcement for his political run will dominate headlines. It’s a matter of hours. Security at all your properties has also been significantly tightened, as you requested.”

Your mother’s laugh was bitter, almost hysterical. “How could security have been tightened when Y/N was still attacked in a public place!?” your mother shrieked, her voice growing shrill.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on her, and–”

That was it. You stood up so abruptly your chair scraped against the floor, catching everyone off guard.

“It was my fault,” you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger with every word. 

“I asked Kira to let me go out with her because I didn’t want to be locked away in the penthouse anymore. I made that decision. This is my mess, my problem, and no one else’s. Pointing fingers won’t undo what happened, so can we stop pretending it will?”

Your mother stood frozen, her face pale, her mouth gaping like a fish gasping for air. She searched for a retort, an argument, anything to regain the upper hand, but you didn’t give her the chance. Without another word you stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls from your family in your wake.

You didn’t stop until you were in the corridor, far from their judgmental stares and suffocating expectations. Slowly, you slid down to the ground, your legs folding awkwardly beneath you. The tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as you stared blankly at the ceiling. You hated crying, especially over this, over them. But it wasn’t just the argument with your mother or the media circus that broke you down. 

It was the loneliness. 

The crushing realization that no one in that room really saw you or understood what you were going through. To them, you were an asset, a liability, a problem to solve. Not a person.

Your fingers trembled as you fumbled for your phone. But the moment you turned it on, your breath caught in your throat. Maro’s face stared back at you from your lock screen, a photo you’d taken just weeks ago.

His tiny tongue hung from the side of his mouth, his fur slightly disheveled from spinning in circles on the couch, chasing his own tail. You’d taken the photo in the middle of laughing so hard you could barely hold your phone steady. You could almost hear the soft jingle of his collar as he burrowed into the cushions, glancing up every now and then to make sure you were watching.

But the laughter felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the crushing weight of grief. Your free hand moved to your bandaged arm and your fingers curled over the wound instinctively.  

You sat hunched over in the waiting room of the emergency animal hospital with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second dragged on like an eternity, Every sound made you flinch, hoping it was someone coming to tell you he’d pulled through, that he’d be okay. But as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, your hope began to waver.

“Y/N!”

You looked up to see Yeosang rushing toward you after you had called him on the way to the clinic. 

“They took him back to the operating room, but—but they wouldn’t let me go with him,” you whispered as he crouched down next to you. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he squeezed your shoulder. “He’s a fighter. Maro’s tough, and he loves you. He’s not going to give up that easily, okay? And neither should you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” you admitted. 

“He’s the only one who’s ever been there for me. He’s a dog but through these last few months he never judged me, never made me feel like I wasn’t enough. He just… loved me.”

“I can’t lose him,” your voice cracked, and just like that, the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, unguarded, as your body shook with uncontrollable sobs.

“He’s all I have, Yeosang.”

“I know,” Yeosang replied quietly. “I know, Y/N. And it’s not fair. But you can’t blame yourself. You did everything you could to protect him.”

His soft exhale filled the heavy silence that followed. Yeosang understood that no words could fix this. So, he simply stayed with you, letting your anguish fill the space, offering nothing but his quiet presence as you crumbled.

The sound of a door opening made you lift your head, your heart leaping into your throat. A vet in scrubs approached you, her expression solemn, and your stomach dropped. Her words were a blur, muffled by the roar in your ears, but you didn’t need to hear them to know. 

The look in her eyes said everything.

You curled in on yourself, your sobs muffled now as you pressed your face against your knees, as if trying to hold together the pieces of your shattered heart.

You let the grief take over, let the tears fall freely, because no one was there to see. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, but when the tears finally slowed, leaving you drained and empty, you lifted your head and stared blankly ahead.  

You were so tired. Tired of carrying everything alone, tired of being left behind. But no matter how much it hurt, you knew there was no one coming to share the weight. It was just you.

No one was coming. No one ever did.

It had always been just you.

⋆

Mingi sat in the garden, his small paws tucked neatly under him as he watched Hongjoong tend to his flowers. The garden was a vibrant burst of life and color. Golden marigolds lined the cobblestone pathways, nestled between the soft hues of blooming roses and sprigs of lavender. The gentle garden was otherworldly, which was appropriate considering where they are.

The afterlife was serene. Quiet. Too quiet, Mingi thought, though he’d never admit it. A part of him didn’t want to accept that this was how everything would end.

That this was it.

That he wouldn’t have the opportunity to make amends. That he wouldn’t get to see you smile again. He wouldn’t get to prove to you that he was worth forgiving, worth believing in, worth something at all.

He felt like he was suspended in a world that didn’t quite belong to him—a visitor overstaying his welcome.

Mingi sat atop a stack of books piled high with a cushion, his small, fluffy body perched precariously as his tail swayed lazily behind him. His ears twitched as he watched Hongjoong move around the cozy cottage.

“Comfortable up there?”

Mingi let out a soft huff. “I guess.”

The table was low enough for him to rest his paws on the edge, and he did so now, leaning forward as Hongjoong placed a small dish in front of him. Inside was a portion of scrambled eggs and bits of roasted sweet potato, the steam curling up in tendrils. 

“I think these are dog friendly foods, but since you’re in the afterlife now, I guess anything goes.”

Mingi sniffed the dish suspiciously, then gave an approving wag of his tail before diving in, the mess from the food around his snout making Hongjoong laugh.

“It’s good, right?” he teased, watching as Mingi polished off every last bite.

Mingi responded with an enthusiastic wiggle of his behind, his entire body vibrating with happiness. Once the dish was licked clean, he flopped onto his side with a contented sigh, his paws stretching out dramatically.

The fullness from the meal brought a fleeting sense of comfort. For a moment, everything felt simple, like when he’d curl up beside you after a long day and your presence putting him at ease. 

As his tail slowed and his breathing steadied, a hollow ache settled in his chest, heavier than the satisfaction of a good meal could counter. Mingi stared at the faint glow of the afterlife’s sky out the window.

He missed you.

The thought that he might never get to tell you how sorry he was, how much he regretted every cruel word, every moment of neglect, made his chest tighten painfully. 

Hongjoong moved among the flowers, humming a tune under his breath as he trimmed roses and pulled at weeds. Mingi’s eyes drifted to a bouquet of marigolds lying nearby, vibrant their bold orange and yellow petals standing out against the green backdrop.

His ears perked up as he stared at the flowers, a memory of you flickering to life in his mind. He remembered the day you brought home a similar bouquet, cradling it in your arms. You’d smiled softly with a distant look in your eyes, and then you disappeared again, taking the flowers with you. He realized now that those marigolds were for Hongjoong’s grave.

“Can you see what happens in the human world?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, as if the question didn’t surprise him in the slightest. His hands stilled over a rose bush, as he turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at Mingi. 

“Sometimes,” he admitted, his gaze drifting upward, as if he could see past the skies and into another realm entirely. “It’s different for everyone. Some people can see glimpses, others nothing at all. It depends on what they hold on to when they’re here.”

“What about you?”

“I made peace with the fact that I was going to pass. Maybe a flicker here or there, but it’s never clear.”

Mingi’s paws shifted against the dirt, unease settling in his chest. That meant Hongjoong might have seen the way he treated you. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to know how much he hurt you in ways he could never take back.

“Do you hate me? For how I treated Y/N?”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. His expression remained unreadable, but Mingi could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Of course, Hongjoong hated the way Mingi had treated you. The way he dismissed you, how he walked away when you needed him most, leaving you to fend for yourself in ways you never should have had to. He hated the thought of you standing there, waiting for someone who never looked back.

And yet, Hongjoong also pitied Mingi. Because for all of his mistakes, for all of his cruelty and neglect, Mingi had been hurting too. As the saying goes, hurt people, hurt people.

“No, Mingi. I don’t hate you.”

Mingi’s ears twitched slightly waiting for the rest of his response.

“More than anything, I just wanted you to know what it’s like to love someone and be helpless to stop their suffering. Because that’s how I felt whenever I had the opportunity to glimpse into the human world.”

Hongjoong’s fingers trailed along the edge of a wilting petal, plucking it free and letting it drift to the ground. “But…” he murmured, his gaze flickering back to Mingi.

“What matters now is what you do with the time you have left.” 

Hongjoong’s smile turned wistful. He didn’t push for a response. Instead he gave Mingi the space to lean into his own thoughts. Mingi closed his eyes, his ears drooping as the weight of his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. 

“I…” Mingi started, but his voice wavered. He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the ground as though afraid to meet Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to tell her how sorry I am. I just wanted to be good for her. To show her that I can be better. That I want to be better.”

He turned to Hongjoong, the desperation tinged in his voice. "I want her to see me as someone she can trust. Not someone who always messes things up or leaves her behind." Mingi blinked back tears as he met Hongjoong’s gaze. 

“I miss her. I want to see her, but this time as myself.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply right away. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting lazily toward the sky, where soft, golden light filtered through the clouds. 

“I don’t think it's over for you yet.”

Mingi’s ears flicked slightly, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I? There’s nothing left for me to do. Nothing I can do."

He let out a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying Mingi’s words. Instead, he stood, brushing stray petals from his sleeves before turning toward the small stone path leading away from the garden.

“It’s getting late, what do you want to have for dinner?”

You sat curled up on the couch in the suite, your chin resting atop your knees as you stared at Mingi’s body. Your fingers traced mindless patterns against the fabric of Maro’s collar. Sleep had been a stranger these past three days. The collar was a lifeline in your trembling hands, keeping you grounded as the weight of everything around you crushed you—the incessant calls from reporters, your family’s worried texts, the suffocating guilt.

The attack had turned your life into a circus. All you wanted was to disappear.

This room, though sterile and suffused with antiseptic air, was the only refuge you had left. Here, in the stillness of your husband’s hospital suite, you didn’t have to pretend to be okay.

“What do you think dogs do in heaven?” 

Your gaze dropped to your hospital slippers, the thin fabric worn down from countless restless nights pacing the suite. A sad smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head and set aside the collar. 

This was your reality now: sneaking away from the penthouse just to sit beside your comatose husband, pouring your heart out to someone who, if and when he woke up, would probably scoff and dismiss you for wasting your time on him.

“I heard they all go to heaven,” you continued, as your voice grew quieter. “At least…that’s what the movie says.”

A lump formed in your throat, making it harder to breathe, harder to swallow the ache.

“I think they get to run forever.”

You stared down at your hands, your fingers curling into the sleeves of your sweater.

“And…” 

Your voice wavered slightly as you struggled to find the words. 

“And there’s an endless amount of treats.”

The first tear slipped down your cheek, warm and unbidden, as if your body couldn’t contain the sorrow any longer. It was the smallest thing, but in that single tear, it felt like the world was coming apart. Your shoulders shook with a quiet sob, your chest tightening as you inhaled sharply. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stop the flood, but it only made it worse.

“J-Just big o-open fields where it’s s-sunny all the time.”

And maybe it was silly, this imagining of dogs in heaven, free and happy, without the pain or heartbreak that followed you here. 

“God, I just feel so alone, Mingi. I had the worst fucking week of my life,” you cried into the emptiness, your hands trembling as you clutched your chest, hoping you could physically hold yourself together.  

“If I hadn’t begged Kira to let me go to that stupid store with her, this wouldn’t have happened. None of it.”

The words came out like a confession, one you hadn’t been brave enough to say aloud until now. 

“It’s all my fault. Everyone leaves me and it’s m-my fault!” 

Your sobs filled the room, echoing back at you like a cruel reminder that no one was there to answer. No one was there to tell you that you were wrong, that it wasn’t your fault, that the universe didn’t conspire against you with every loss. But the silence gave no comfort. 

“This is getting ridiculous.”

Unseen, Wooyoung sat perched on his bench in the courtroom, watching over you with a weary expression. His chin rested on the back of his hand, fingers idly tapping against his jaw as he observed the way your body trembled from the weight of grief.

He had seen countless souls in despair, had judged and guided those lost between life and death. But you, your suffering was different.

It was the kind of sorrow that settled into a person’s bones, an ache that would not fade with time. And as much as Wooyoung pretended he had grown numb to such things, this…this he could not ignore.

His thoughts drifted to the one soul tied to yours, the one whose fate he had carefully molded with his own hands. A certain puppy who was at the center of your suffering, both the cause of it in his human form and, ironically, the brightest light in your life now.

If Wooyoung had to guess, Mingi had made you happier than you had been in your entire life. It was a miracle, really, considering who he had been before all of this. But for all of his faults, he had taken to his new form with an earnestness Wooyoung hadn’t expected. He had tried.

The judge had watched him bumble his way through this second chance, a puppy who didn’t quite know what to do with himself. It had been amusing at first: the way Mingi stumbled over his own paws, the way he wagged his tail a little too eagerly, desperate for your affection.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

He had seen the way Mingi softened, the way he clung to you like you were his home. The way he curled against your side as if he could take away your pain and carry it for you. 

“Song Mingi, you idiot!” Wooyoung sighed, ready to pull his hair out. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the way things ended. Mingi’s final task was to make you truly happy, to undo the damage he had done. It was the last step before he could return to his human form. But no, he had to play the hero and sacrifice himself to protect you.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He hated to admit it, but there was something admirable about it. For all his faults, for all the pain he had caused you, Mingi had finally learned how to love you the way you deserved. He had given up everything—his second chance, his future—just to make sure you were safe.

Now you were left behind, drowning in the weight of his sacrifice and Wooyoung couldn’t bear to see how miserable you were. 

With a flick of his wrist, the air around him trembled, the very foundation of his courtroom bending to his will. The air split with a sharp crack, and in the blink of an eye, the room dispersed into smoke, replaced by the glow of the fireplace.

“Alright, Song Mingi,” he muttered, propping his feet on the dining table. “It’s time to go home.”

⋆

“You’re late.”

Mingi blinked, his vision still adjusting as he lifted a paw to rub at his eyes, as if that would somehow make sense of what he was seeing.

“W-Wooyoung!?”

The judge sat comfortably at the dinner table, tapping his fingers lazily against the polished wood. His presence alone was jarring and Wooyoung never just showed up. If he was here, it meant something.

“It’s rude to keep guests waiting,” Wooyoung huffed, tilting his head in exaggerated disappointment. “I’ve been sitting here for ages.”

“You didn’t have a reservation,” Hongjoong deadpanned, unimpressed as he set his basket of gardening tools onto the counter. Unlike Mingi, he wasn’t startled by the unexpected visit. Instead he hummed a tune and busied himself around the cottage, grabbing ingredients for dinner. 

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung whined.

“Can it wait until after dinner?” he replied. He set a pot of water on the stove, as if the all powerful judge of the afterlife wasn’t currently lounging at their dining table.

“Fine!” he groaned, kicking his feet up onto the chair beside him.

His gaze flickered to Mingi again, and suddenly, his expression shifted.

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I forgot how small you are!”

Mingi flinched. “What?”

“No wonder Y/N was so smitten with you,” he cooed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re so cute!”

Mingi’s eyes went wide with horror. “No, wait—”

He didn’t stand a chance. Wooyoung lunged, faster than Mingi could react, scooping him up in one swift motion. Mingi let out an undignified yelp as he was lifted clean off the ground as his little legs flailed uselessly in the air.

He spun Mingi around in his arms, cradling him like the most precious thing in the world. Hongjoong, unbothered, continued chopping vegetables in the background, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board the only indication that he was even listening. 

“I can see why all those women refused to leave you alone,” Wooyoung mused, studying Mingi as if seeing him for the first time. 

Mingi let out a strangled noise of protest. “Put me down!”

Wooyoung ignored him, instead stroking the fur between his ears with a contemplative hum. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Mingi froze, sensing the shift in Wooyoung’s tone. It wasn’t teasing anymore. There was something thoughtful—almost wistful—beneath his words.

“I sent you there to right your wrongs,” Wooyoung said softly. “That was the deal. But instead, you sacrificed yourself like an idiot. Do you know how miserable that made her?”

Wooyoung sighed, shifting Mingi so that they were eye to eye. “You should see how sad Y/N is, I can’t stand seeing her cry anymore.”

Mingi’s ears flattened as he processed Wooyoung’s words. That didn’t make sense, did it? He had spent so much of his life pushing you away, saying the wrong things, hurting you without even meaning to. Even in the end, he had only caused you more pain by leaving.

Mingi swallowed hard, ears flicking. “But… I always made her cry.” His voice was small. “How could I have made her happy?”

Wooyoung huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You really are hopeless,” he muttered. “She was happy because you were there, dummy. Because you stuck around. Because, for the first time, you weren’t just someone passing through her life. You stayed.”

Had he really made you happy just by being there? By choosing to stay by your side, even when he thought he didn’t deserve to?

“You didn’t just make her smile a few times. You made her feel safe. You made her laugh. You made her happy without even realizing it. And you did it without asking for anything in return. I guess that's what dogs do.”

Wooyoung reached out, flicking him lightly on the nose. “And that’s why you’re going back.”

“Eh?”

“That’s right!” Wooyoung declared triumphantly, placing him on the ground. He grinned, straightening up and placing his hands on his hips.

“Even if you are an idiot who charged in without thinking, what you did was the purest act of love you could’ve shown. You held up your end of the bargain so… a deal’s a deal.”

“I’m…I’m going back?”

Mingi’s tail wagged furiously, his entire body practically vibrating with excitement. He was going back. Back to you. He could see you again, hear your voice, feel your touch. He could fix things and make things right. He wouldn’t waste this second chance.

“Eat first,” Hongjoong interrupted, scooping up a bowl of stew for the puppy.

“You won’t get far on an empty stomach.”

Mingi let out a tiny huff, his tail flicking in mild protest, but the rich aroma of the stew was too tempting to resist. He sniffed hesitantly before lapping at the bowl. The warmth of the broth spread through him instantly, soothing in a way he hadn't realized he needed. His stomach grumbled again, this time in appreciation, and he begrudgingly continued eating.

Between bites, his gaze flickered up to Hongjoong. Something about him seemed… different. His expression was just as calm and composed as ever, but there was a certain wistfulness in his eyes.

Mingi’s little tail wagged as he padded closer, tilting his head. “Are you okay?”

Hongjoong blinked, seemingly caught off guard for just a second before his lips curved into a small smile. Mingi peered up at him, and noticed the longing in his eyes. Not for something lost, but for something he once cherished.

Hongjoong reached out, ruffling Mingi’s fur with a gentle touch. “Even if things get difficult,” he murmured reassuringly, “I know everything will work out in the end.”

His hand lingered for just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“You just have to fight.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the alarm blaring from your phone. The shrill tone cut through the silence of the hospital room, a jarring contrast to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself upright, disoriented for a moment before remembering you had set it for 8 AM, the time you usually fed Maro.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. You hadn’t meant to doze off here again, but exhaustion clung to you. You needed to go home. There were things to do. You needed to eat, too—had you even eaten since yesterday? Probably not.

“Y/N…”

Your mind moved sluggishly through a mental checklist. Feed Maro. No, he’s not here anymore. Answer texts. Call Kira. Had you remembered to bring a change of clothes? You should grab something on the way home. Maybe coffee, too.  

“...Y/N.”

For a second, you thought you were hallucinating. There was no way—no way—you heard your name. Maybe you were just overtired, running on empty. Maybe it was your mind playing cruel tricks on you. 

You shrugged, shoving your belongings into your overnight bag, preoccupied with gathering the blankets you’d let slip to the floor in your sleep. 

A strange sensation washed over Mingi as his eyes fluttered open. His body felt heavier and his senses, once heightened, dulled. In the distance, he heard the faint chime of an alarm, followed by the soft shuffling of your footsteps. The sound was muted, like a memory being replayed from another life, but it was real. 

"Be good, okay?" Wooyoung's voice was light, but there was a tightness to it, as if he was holding something back. His hands moved with gentle care, adjusting the small bandana around Mingi’s neck. 

"I don’t want to see you for another 70 years!"

Beside him, Hongjoong let out a soft chuckle, crouching down to run his fingers behind his ears. "Take care of Y/N," he murmured. 

"But most importantly, take care of yourself, okay? Give yourself some grace.”

“I will,” Mingi replied, determination settling into his voice. He wanted to hold onto this moment, to express his gratitude, but time was already pulling him away as the gate for the human world was beginning to close. 

The path before him stretched endlessly, lined with delicate white flowers that glowed under the light of the afterlife. With each step, he could feel the ground beneath his paws become less solid, as though he were walking on the edge of a dream. His body tingled, his heartbeat echoing in a different rhythm now, one that matched the pull of reality waiting for him beyond this place.

As the world around him dimmed, as his senses faded into something familiar, one thing remained unchanged—

You.

Your presence.

And the moment he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was you. 

Not the flowers piled up in the corner of the suite. Not the wires draped across his chest or the monitors keeping him alive. Not the light of morning spilling through the window, chasing away the shadows of the night before.

Just you.

“Y/N.”

Still, you didn’t hear him.

Mingi watched as you flitted around the room, smoothing down your wrinkled clothes, sighing at the thought of stepping outside this room and facing reality again as you grabbed your bag. 

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name was sharper and more insistent and you knew for sure you weren’t imagining it. 

You froze.

Your breath caught as something inside you, some instinct, screamed at you to turn around. Slowly, hesitantly, your head snapped toward the hospital bed.

Mingi was watching you.

His eyes were tired and heavy with exhaustion, but they were focused. Determined. His brows drew together, as if mustering every ounce of strength he had left just to make you look at him.

Your bag slid from your shoulder and hit the ground as your legs struggled to keep up. A sharp gasp tore from your lips as your chest constricted with a surge of emotions you thought you had long buried.

Relief, disbelief, and something unnamed swelled within you as you staggered forward with tears in your eyes.

Mingi’s fingers twitched again. A little stronger this time, shaking as they lifted just an inch from the bed. For a moment, they faltered, wavering midair. Then, slowly, they stretched toward you.

Reaching.

Wanting.

Your fingers trembled as you reached out, letting your hand hover over his for a moment before finally brushing against his cold skin. His hand stilled beneath yours and his fingers curled weakly as you closed yours around them.

Mingi’s eyes softened, and for a second, you thought he might try to speak, his lips parting slightly, but no sound came. His fingers squeezed yours weakly in response, and despite his weakened state, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes held yours and were filled with something that made your heart ache in the best way.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

Because this time, Mingi had reached for you first.

<< vi | viii >>

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@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay

@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

[nisuna]

Need more yuuji smut!!

So hear me out-

bestfriend!yuuji finding your depressed ass in the park while it's raining and you're soaked. So he takes you home and take care of you and puts you to sleep in jis clothes.

Then wakes you up by eating you out and then .. you know.. the rest of the stuff

Holy shit am I in my angst era? 😭 Yuji is 100% my comfort character, so this was very nice to write. He's so boyfriend oml I love him so much<3 I don't even care if this does well or not. I really needed this, tysm for the idea!!<3

⚠️ If you or anyone you know struggles with their mental health or has thoughts like these, please look up your local s*uic*de prevention hotlines. Everybody deserves to get help, and everyone deserves to live. It might not always be as easy as in my little story, but please look after yourselves, I love you all so much and thank you all for all of the love and support🫶🏻 As someone who's been struggling with their mental health ever since their early teens I can say that I definitely can't speak for everyone on this matter, but maybe some will find comfort and familiarity in this

TW: angst, s*icid*l ideation, mentions of declining mental health, hurt and comfort, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, body worship, nipple play, body appreciation, mating press, confession, a lot of crying, this is so dear to my heart, supportive!bff!yuji

~2,8k words~

<3masterlist<3

--------mature themes ;strictly 18+ MDNI-----------

Everything has been fucked lately. Your job sucks, school isn't going great, your social life is almost nonexistent, your family is a mess and you just want some peace and calm. You've been home constantly, but you just can't stand it anymore, which is exactly why you went outside for some fresh air. And as if the universe was giving you the middle finger as well, it started raining. But you just couldn't be bothered anymore. Life sucks and your mental health is declining. So you don't even flinch at the rain hitting your lowered head. You don't care that your clothes are soaked at this point. You just sit there and take it. You've been sitting here for what feels like hours. There has been multiple nosy on lookers that passed by mumbling. Some of them showed concern, but some of them were threw disgusted looks at you and assumed you're some kind of junkie that's loitering around in their peaceful park. You couldn't care less, nobody was actually brave enough to approach you anyway, so you let them talk.

It's getting cold, but you can't bring yourself to move. You're soaked and it's getting dark, but you feel like you have nowhere to go. You're starting to feel numb, your hands and feet are cold and you almost can't feel them anymore. This is actually quite nice, you're neither sad nor mad, you feel empty, but it's not uncomfortable like it usually is. You feel calm, you're not worried. You think that freezing to d*ath might actually be a good way to go. It would be like falling asleep without having to ever wake up again. For the first time in weeks you felt yourself smile. You've made up your mind, nobody will miss you anyway so why bother. But as you were about to lie down, you heard a familiar voice screaming your name.

"What the hell-", you thought to yourself as you sat back up and looked around. You didn't have to wait long before seeing a familiar figure run towards you.

"Y/N!!! Where are-? Oh my god there you are. I looked everywhere for you. What are you doing?", he reached out to grab your shoulders, only for you to flinch away.

"Yuji, what are you doing here?"

"Well, you weren't picking up my calls and I got worried." When you didn't give him an answer, he continued, "Are you alright? Whoa you're soaked and my god you're ice cold c'mon let's get you home. I don't want you to get sick.", he grabbed your hand, trying to get you off that bench. But you didn't budge.

"Y/N? What's wrong c'mon let's go-"

"No, I'm fine, really. Just leave me be."

"What are you even saying? How could I? You are in no condition to be left alone. It's freezing and you're soaked c'mon let's go home-"

"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE GODDAMN IT!", you screamed and felt tears leave your eyes. Shit. When you reached up to wipe away at your eyes, Yuji stopped you and wiped your tears with his sleeve instead.

"Y/N I don't know what's going on, but please let me help.", he knelt down, squeezing your trembling hands and giving you a warm smile.

"Why do you care so much?", that came out way too wobbly for your liking.

"Why do I care? Y/N, you're my best friend of course I care. How could I not? Look at you."

You were at a loss of words, so he continued. "Is it okay if I touch you more?" Nod. As soon as you gave him the okay he pulled you into a tight hug. It took you a bit to relax, but you eventually gave in and let your emotions run wild. You were shaking, crying loudly in his embrace. All the built-up tension of the past weeks came flooding out, but he was there to catch you. He held you close as you let go. He didn't say a word until you calmed down a bit.

He pulled away to take a look at your puffy face. "Let's go over to mine, hm? What do you say?"

"Fuck it.", you thought as you nodded and got up.

"Want me to carry you?"

"No, that's embarassing. I can walk alright.", you huffed.

"Don't worry, it's late. Nobody will see."

"Okay."

After he wrapped you up in his jacket, you got on his back and let him carry you to his apartment. He's so warm and smells really good. You subconsciously nuzzled your face closer to him. Falling asleep like this would be way nicer than alone. You thought of that as you closed your eyes and hugged him tighter.

Luckily, he only lived a couple blocks away from the park. He was gentle when he set you down as soon as you arrived.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it.", there it was again, his sweet smile. "You should go take a bath before you get sick. I'll lend you some of my clothes." Nod.

------

You felt like a new human being after the warm bath. His clothes were also warm and smelled like him. It was oddly comforting. Has he always smelled this good? Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice.

"Oh wow, you look better already.", he grinned.

"Yeah", you cracked a smile back at him, "I do feel a lot better. Thanks a lot."

"Of course! Now, what do you want to eat, you must be starving? How long were you out there anyway?"

"All day actually...", you confessed.

His shocked expression made you giggle as he pushed you into his kitchen.

After a good meal he said you could go sleep in his bed. He'd sleep on the couch tonight. But you stopped him. "I don't want to be alone. Can you sleep with me tonight."

"Sure, I thought you needed some space and didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Can we cuddle too?"

"We can do whatever you need."

That's how you found yourself back in his arms for the nth time today. The atmosphere was calm, as you were exchanging occasional remarks while watching something. You don't know what overcame you, but you just felt so safe and taken care of that you leaned in for a kiss. However, you quickly pulled away when you felt him stiffen up and not kiss you back.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. God, I'm so stupid. You probably hated that. Shit, please don't hate me-"

"No, please calm down, it's alright. It's not that I don't like this. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"You're in a very fragile state right now. I don't want you to do something you might regret."

"But I'm sure, I really want this-"

"Sleep it over. Just one night and if you still feel like it tomorrow I'm down. I'm here for you. We can cuddle all you want, though. I just don't want to take advantage of you."

You shot him your biggest pity pout and when that didn't work you gave in. "Alright, alright, I guessss.", you huffed and fell into his embrace. Both of you didn't talk much after that, there was a bit of tension, but you didn't act on it. When you finally drifted off to sleep it was enveloped in his warmth and smell.

You haven't slept this well in a long time. And you definitely haven't been woken up this nicely in a long time, either.

After such a good night's sleep you didn't expect to wake up to your best friend between your thighs, lapping away at your pussy.

"Hi, good morning", he rasped, morning voice heavy. "You just looked so cute wiggling around in my arms and when I checked you were already so wet down there. Sorry, I couldn't resist.", he said while softly kissing up your thigh.

"It's alright, let me wake up first, though ah-", you couldn't finish your sentence, because your head snapped back with a moan, as he dove back between your legs.

"Sorry, but I need this just as bad as you do. You taste so good. God, I've been missing out on this this whole time? Just lay back and let me take care of you."

You couldn't say no. Not that you were able to say anything at all with his skillful tongue and fingers working your cunt open. He made you a whimpering and sensitive mess in a matter of a few seconds.

"Shit, how are you so good?", you let out a drawn-out moan, but didn't get an answer from him. His actions spoke instead of him, as he had you cumming on his tongue soon after. Once he licked you clean he slotted his body between your legs and kissed you nice and deep.

"Mmh", you moaned against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Tastes good, right?", he grinned.

"Shut up", you playfully hit his chest, grinnig right back at him.

"Alright, my turn.", you smiled, trying to get him to lie down only to be pushed back, as he got on top of you again.

"Nope."

"Hey! Not fair, I wanna taste you, too.", you pouted at him.

"Maybe next time. Today's all about you, I don't want you to lift a single finger. As I said, lay back and let me take care of you."

That was an offer you definitely couldn't refuse. So you gave him a nod and waited for his next move. His next move was a very welcome one, as he finally rid him himself of his shirt. You always knew he was well built from years in the gym and other sports. But seeing him like that up close made you gush. His front was mouth watering, and his arms were to die for. He was huge. You would've rubbed your legs together to ease your pain if he wasn't keeping your legs open with his body between them. You didn't even notice you were staring until he spoke up.

"You're practically drooling."

"Fuck, sorry.", you shrieked looking away.

"Don't sweat it. Oogle me all you want, I dig it.", he smiled, pulling your face back in his direction.

"Can I touch you?"

"What kind of question is that? Go for it!"

His skin's so soft, but the ripples of his abs and chest are brick hard. He let you explore his body before grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle kiss.

"My turn.", he whispered against your fingers before pulling your shirt up and exposing your tits. Your nipples were already hard from all of the stimulation earlier.

"Fuck, they're so pretty.", he whispered, grabbing one in each hand and giving them a hard squeeze.

"Shit.", you moaned, back arching off the bed and pussy rubbing against his hard cock. To make matters worse, he leaned down, licking a thick stripe up your neck and pinching your aching nipples between his fingers.

"Off. Now.", he demanded, already helping you pull the shirt over your head. You were finally fully exposed and he ate it right up. He leaned back down, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and massaging your other breast. He made sure to pay equal attention to both. It felt really good, but you were getting impatient, already grinding against his hard crotch.

"Yuuji~~", you moaned at a particularly hard suck. "Don't tease. Pleasee, I need you.", you whined.

"Shit, sorry I got distracted. Wait here, I'm gonna go get the condoms."

Before he could leave you, you stopped him.

"No, wait, please don't. I want to feel you.", you said, already digging your nails in his arms at the mere thought of doing it raw.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive.", you smiled reassuringly.

"Fuck, alright. Got it.", he swore and rid himself of his boxers.

Once again you were staring. He was bigger than you thought. You definitely couldn't wait any longer. You needed him inside of you immediately.

He didn't make you wait long before he started to slowly bottom out. Your moans grew embarassingly louder with each inch that filled you up.

"Shit, you're so tight. Please loosen up, you're gonna kill me."

"Sorry, it just feels so good.", you mewled back arching and pressing your soft tits against his hard chest. "Kiss me, please~~" He immediately obliged, crashing his mouth against yours. It was so raw and messy when your tongues kept mashing together, but it just felt so right.

"I'm gonna start moving now. I'm gonna fuck you so good."

You nodded and pleaded. Your wish was his command, so he finally picked up his pace. And god, was he good with his hips. With each thrust and shift of your legs, he kept hitting you deeper and deeper until you practically saw stars. It's so cliché, but you felt like you were in heaven.

Your nails kept grazing his broad back and shoulders, but you didn't want to hurt him, so you held back. As if he had read your mind, he leaned down and whispered against your ear.

"Do it. Mark me up, it doesn't hurt. Please don't hold back."

So you didn't hold back anymore. You let your emotions run wild, exploring his body with your hands. Shyness long forgotten, as you left long red streaks all over his back, occasionally pulling him down for a kiss.

The world stood still. You never noticed before, but he has always been there for you. He was the only person that you ever felt loved by. How had you never noticed. Even if you two never said it out loud before, you loved each other. It had to be love. You felt overwhealmed as his fingers slipped between your bodies and started rubbing thick circles in your sensitive clit. Your breath hitched as the words you kept secret for far too long came tumbling out.

"I love you, Yuji. I love you so much, thank you for always taking care of me. I only have you in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. Please never leave me, I need you."

If he was taken aback by your words, he didn't show it. He just pressed his lips against yours and kept rubbing and moving his hips until you came undone. And as you were moaning and arching your back, he finally answered.

"I love you, too. So, so much. I always have. I promise I will never leave. No matter what happens, I got you. Forever.", that's when the dams broke down and tears were spilling from your eyes. You just hugged him close and thanked him.

Not long after, he was reaching his limit as well. So he hoisted your legs over his shoulders and pounded away until he filled you up to the brim. All the while he was kissing your tears away and saying how good you were for him and how well you did.

When his hips finally came to a halt, he gently put your legs down and kissed you again. He was gentle when he pulled out and you winced as you felt his cum drip out of you and onto his sheets.

Immediately after, he pulled you close, hugging you like he was about to lose you and you were able to calm down a bit. But the bad thoughts came back as you whispered against his skin.

"Today was so stressful and you must've been worried sick. What if I have another breakdown. I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to stress you out. I don't want to break your heart if anything happens to me."

"Y/N, look at me.", he begged, hands on your cheeks.

You finally looked back up at him, tears stinging your eyes.

"You're not a burden.", he whispered, giving your forehead a gentle kiss. "I will protect you forever. For as long as I live, I will always be here to catch you. No matter what happens. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to endure everything silently and on your own. I promise, things will get better. I will be here each step of the way. I love you so much, so please don't leave me."

You wanted to believe him, you wanted to get better. Maybe you finally could with his help. It's a big gamble, but you're gonna bet all of your cards on this relationship. After a long pause, you gave him a silent nod and burried your face in his chest, all while he was gently patting and kissing your head.

Life and everyone else might be shit, but at least you got him now. He was worth living for.

--------

If you read this far, thank you so much<3 I hope I can make some lighter and happier content soon, but I'm on a roll right now *sigh* Please stay healthy and look after yourselves, mwah

Hope to see you all very soon<3

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

bf!skz texts when you lose a loved one/pet/friend☔

you guys will have to forgive me i'm having such a shit month so far everything is going wrong in virtually any and every aspect of my life and i needed some self indulgent hurt/comfort fluff cause skz have become my safe place and i've grown so attached to them and obviously i don't personally know them but if there's one thing about them is that they seem to be warm and caring people and and - yeah this is a heavy sappy one. i'm sorry i hope you're all doing well and please feel free to skip this upload if you think it's going to be too much 💖

Tw: d*ath, loss of family members, car crash (no graphic depiction), bad mental health

✨masterlist for more delulu bf!skz

✨taglist @milf-ivy @minluvly @nervousbasementtimemachine @m1lfl0v3r4l1fe @atiana1996 @dreamerwasfound @staydoida1 @chlodavids @ivyreadsstuff @sapphirewaves  @hannahhhhs-things @skzwife

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

mc who ships the kings with their nobles (its an excuse for leviforas)

Mc that ships the shippers with their kings

Overall, I think none of them would think much of it because all the nobles seem to have a crush on their kings. They would mind if you started losing interest in their king because you percieve them to be in a relationship.

Paimon would, like always, be the chiller one about this whole thing. While he sometimes gets angry at his fellow shippers, he'll never get angry at you unless you do something really really stupid. Shipping him with Satan is just kind of silly in his view. He might humor you a bit, but he'll shortly cut all your hopes when he says that he has no romantic feelings for Satan and never will. Doesn't want to give you too much false hope, he just wishes you'll put your sights on what really matters.

Eligos would be dumpfounded. The whole interaction was like

Eligos: Mc! I'm so glad I've found you! I've prepared a nice bow for you to wear on your stroll with his majesty Mammon.

Mc: I'm sure Mammon likes ribbons a lot. I mean, with how close the two of you are... he sure has a thing for small cute things.

Eligos: Oh, he totally does! That's why I will make you the cutest being in Hell... behind me, of course.

Mc: No, don't worry. I don't want to tempt your man.

Eligos: My... what?

Mc: Come on, it's obvious that you and Mammon have athing for eachother. The way he pets your head for longer than anyone else, the way he always calls you his. I bet you have a full collection on lingerie just for him.

Eligos: I do, but no! No no no! I'm not in love with his majesty Mammon! Never!

Mc: First stage, denile

Eligos: First stage of WHAT?!?!?

Congratulation, you just broke Eligos' brain and made him take an emergency trip to Paradise Lost to get checked for whatever illness you implyied he had.

Foras gasps when he hears that and covers your mouth.

Foras: Mc, do you like breathing?

Mc nods

Foras: Good, then stop saying stuff like that. He always listens

Leviathan: Is this what you two are doing instead of sorting paperwork? The only reasons I allowed you two to stay together was because you're incompetent and Foras keeps getting distrected on his phone. I would strangle you both, but you're into it, you filth.

Foras: I apologise, great, powerful, handsome Leviathan for my wrong doings

Mc: I'm adding degredation to my newest fic

Leviathan: Don't flatter yourself a writer, I would never degrade Foras. He actually has qualities to speak of.

Foras: (I wish he degarded me as well)

Sorry, I've been too Leviathan possitive on my blog lately, I have to spread the hate

Amon would choke on his own spit. On one hand, hot, yes, he does want to get revaged by his king. On the other hand, that would be illegal because you're already with him. Amon is delusional, partly because he's starving, partly because that's just how he is. He would try to talk you out of it out of genuioun fear that he is breaking the law.

Gamigin would be repulsed. Lucifer is his brother, why would you ship him with his sibling? Please stop, he's really uncomfortable by the whole idea.

Mc: You know, I've been thinking about you and Lucifer recently

Gamigin: Really?! What about?

Mc: You'd look lovely together. He's so nice to you, I bet he likes you well enough in bed.

Gamigin.exe stopped working

Marbas: You need to leave!

[strniohoeee]

Racketeer Pt. 3

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hates Chris hoodrat lifestyle, but when something goes wrong she’s ready to protect her man👥 Okay this is part 3 of a series I just made for shits and giggles for my best friend, but the fact that so many people like it is shocking and also amazing!!! Love this for us, I’m a hoe for hoodrat Chris even though I’m a Matt girl🧎🏽‍♀️

Warnings⚠️: uhh d*ath threats, Chris with a pewpew, pistol whipping, and uhhh I think that’s all…hope you enjoy 🖤

Song for the imagine: 308-22Gz (this is pure hoodrat NY trap music I LOVE IT)

When we spin through, it’s a D-O-A

We caught a opp at like 3:08

Fuck it and fuck up a B-O-A

Flashback

“Chris I’m not fucking holding your gun, so I’m definitely not fucking shooting it” I told Chris as he had his pistol on the kitchen table

“Baby why not? We literally got targets on our back because of who I am. I want my lady to be able to handle her own if I’m not there” he said in a matter of fact way

“Yeah a target on our back because of the life YOU chose to run with….plus I will always have you, so no” I said drinking my water

“What if I’m in a headlock, the pistols on the ground, and any one of his goons could come and pop me, and then pop you” he said raising his eyebrows

“Well then the lord better be on our side cause I ain’t picking up your gun” I said shrugging my shoulders

He picks up his gun and points it at me

“CHRISTOPHER HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND” I said flinching

“BANG BANG BANG, you’re dead” and then he turns the gun on himself “BANG BANG BANG, I’m dead” he said laughing

“Put the fucking gun down now” I said getting upset with him

“Baby the clips empty, and I took the bullet out” he said showing me the gun

“Give me the fucking gun, and show me how to use it” I said getting annoyed

“YES IM TEACHING MY BABYYY, I’m gonna have my own personal shooter” he said getting excited

Flashback over

Tonight Chris’s friends were having a party after one of the guys got released from prison. They rented out a whole club for this kid

“I don’t want to go” I said to Chris dragging my feet

“Come on, why not it’s a nice area. The club is only open for us, and you know ima protect you” he said getting dressed

I was already ready, but I just didn’t want to go anymore. I felt like this was our whole life…. parties, fast cars and thugs….but I digress

“Fine I’ll fucking go” I said getting my outfit picked out. It was cold in Boston, so I decided on a long sleeve fitted black shirt, medium wash baggy boyfriend jeans, and my black Air Force 1s (shawty on demon time). I flat ironed my hair, and put on my black north face puffer jacket

“The black air forces?? Whose head are you stompin on tonight?” Chris asked laughing

“Anybody who fucks with you” I said putting my perfume on

“Blue jeans or black” he asked me

“Black” I said back

Chris came out in an all black shirt, with black jeans, his timberland boots on, and his black puffer coat

“Alright baby Boston Red Sox black and white hat, or Yankees” he asked

“Boston….HELLOOO” I said laughing at him

“Duhhh how could I be so stupid” he said making a dumb face

We had driven to the location of the club, and it was indeed a nice area, but it was known for gangs so there were some dodgy people out.

“Don’t leave my side at all” Chris said helping me out the passenger side, and shutting the door behind me

“Never baby” I said, and he locked the car

We walked to the club, and immediately I recognized everybody there. I even seen some of my girl friends who were either dating or messing around with one of these guys

The whole night we had such a blast, laughing, talking, drinking and dancing. Although these people had some crazy shit under their belt, they were actually super nice and respectful people.

“Yoo there’s some kids out there, talking about Drew’s gang or whatever” one of Chris friends came up and said to all of us

“That little fucking kid with the tattoos on his face?” Chris asked

“Yeah, he’s getting mad staticy outside, and wallin out. The security guards about to lay his ass out” he said

“Tell that fucking kid that I’m going to be dealing with his soon” Chris said taking a sip of his drink

“Ai, he’s alone so he ain’t gonna try some shit” he said to Chris

“Even if he does…I’m strapped tonight” Chri said lifting his shirt up exposing the pistol in his waistband

His friend nodded at him, and went to head back out to relay the message to the other guy.

“Baby….for once not tonight” I said looking at Chris

“I’m not gonna do anything, but if people start talking crazy” he said raising his hands up

“No Chris! You have to stop this” I told him taking a sip of my drink

“What?? I’ll bust him in his medulla….nobody will fuck wit me after that” Chris said laughing

I just shook my head and laughed at him

At this point it was about 2AM, and we all started to head out. We walked outside, and Chris was saying bye to the security guard and some of his friends

I was waiting for Chris to finish chatting with his security guard, when I saw someone in the corner of my eye. For once can someone not try Chris and I

“Yoo this your man?” The kid said coming up to me and pointing at Chris

I just ignored him, me being from New York…you never ever turn your head when someone’s coming up from behind you to ask you, or tell you something. That’s a death wish.

“You deaf ma?” I heard him say again

“Yo get the fuck outta here” I heard Chris say from behind me

“Yo get the fuck outta here Chris, Drew’s people got something for your ass, and it’s gonna start with your lady here” he said nodding his head at me

“Did you just threaten my woman” I heard Chris say, and he started to walk towards him, so I turned around to watch this glancing at the security guard to keep an eye out

“Don’t shoot the messenger…..you keep fucking wit our guys…they gonna come for you” he said

“I’ll shoot you, and the motherfucka who sent you” Chris said getting closer to the guy

“Babe stop” I said trying to keep Chris calm

“Yeah listen to your lady…wouldn’t want her with a hole between her eyes now would we?” He asked smuggly

All of a sudden I just see Chris swing at the guy, his right fist connecting with his cheek

“DONT YOU EVER FUCKING SAY SOME SHIT ABOUT KILLING MY GIRL. ILL FUCKING KILL YOUR WHOLE LIFELINE BITCH” Chris screamed at him and they started to throw punches

“CHRIS PLEASE STOP, THIS HAS TO FUCKING STOP PLEASE” I said begging, but not wanting to get in between them because I was not about to get cracked in the jaw

I'm not sure what happened but they started to struggle with each other, and were just scuffling. I had a feeling the guy felt Chris’s gun, and was trying to grab it

“FUCK YOU” Chris started to scream and started throwing punches at the guys ribs, as he had Chris in a headlock

All of a sudden his pistol fell out, and at the same time the guy got Chris on his back on the ground, and they were throwing punches.

The pistol slid pretty far, and I was contemplating on if I wanted to pick it up or not…..Fuck it…this is my man, and I will fucking do anything to protect him

I picked up the pistol, and cocked it back

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY MAN, OR I WILL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF” I yelled at the guy, both of them turning to look at me

“You’re a little bitch, you ain’t pulling no fucking trigger fuck outta here” he said still struggling with Chris

I don’t know what came over me, but I moved the gun from pointed at his head to pointed just behind it, and then I pulled the trigger

The bullet flew right past his head, and it was so fucking loud, everybody froze including me

“THE FUCK” the guy yelled, and while he was looking at me Chris used this to punch him on the jaw knocking him backwards

Chris got up, and came over to me, and grabbed the pistol out of my hands

He walked over to the guy, standing over him and grabbed him by his shirt

All of a sudden Chris pistol whipped the guy, and I gasped covering my mouth

“If you ever come around me and my people, and my FUCKING woman again talking out your neck I’m going to come for your whole fucking blood line, got it” he said as he held the pistol under the kids chin

“Yeah yeah” the guy said out of it

“NO FUCKING YEAH YEAH, YOU GET IT OR YOU DONT WE WOULDNT WANT TO SEND YOU BACK TO DREW WHTH A BULLET BETWEEN YOUR BROWS NOW WOULD WE” Chris said laying the gun in between the guys brows

“No no….I promise you’re all good. I’ll never fucking look at yall ever again” he said in fear

“Yeah you better not, and if we ever cross paths again…you better cross to the other side of the street. Cause you just earned a target on your back, and when I’m ready to pop you and your people I'm coming for yous ….cause all my opps is targets, see the red dot no target got it bitch” he said throwing the guy down onto the ground

Chris looked at his security and nodded for him to get rid of the kid, and keep everything on hush. He tucked the pistol into his waistband and grabbed my hand

“Lets go ma” he said walking with me

We got into the car, and I was still so shocked by everything

“Look at you….almost boomed the kids face off for me” he said smirking

“I don’t know what took over me, but I knew I wanted to hurt him to protect you” I said to Chris

“That’s exactly how I feel everytime someone fucks with you” he said leaning in and kissing me

“You’re not going to go after him right?” I asked

“No, but it creates enough fear in his heart that he won’t even fuck with us ever again” he said putting the car in drive, and grabbing my hand to interlock it

“Chris we have to stop this lifestyle” I told him

“And we will baby, I promise you” he said kissing my hand as he drove off

The End

Alright this was part 3, and I may or may not write a part 4 depending on the feedback, but this one was my favorite one to write 💋💋

-J💅🏽

[alarrytale]

Louis is using a charity event to promote: bg (an innocent child being used again), stunt and the twins. I honestly wish I didn't care, but I feel angry at Louis. There is no Louis anymore, there is only Louis TM who is surrounded by shit. Solo/anti have all the "good" parts of him, while larries receive d*ath threats. I wonder if he is still a good person, or if he gave up and now he has become what he always fought not to be

Hi, anon!

That's what it all looks like doesn’t it? It's like he's saying "see, i have both a gf that i kiss on the mouth, and i'm a parent. I'm also an emotionally stunted chav with unhealthy coping mechanisms. This is who i want to be".

But the more seemingly illogical and wrong the decisions he makes and actions he takes, the more fascinated i become. At least if you believe Louis to be a smart and savvy man. Because this is all too much, he's going hard on every front, all at the same time. He's pushing fans away like this. So why? It's either like he knows he's got an ace up his sleeve or it's like a last push to sell the narratives to either end it or try to finally convince everybody he's straight. I do believe he's smart enough to know that the latter won't work. So again, why?

The only thing that makes sense to me is that he's positioning himself for the end of bg. I can't explain what we see from him in any other way, unless he's self-sabotaging because he wants out of all his contracts quick, and wants to be fired.

So let's hope this is the end.

[kimatachi]

THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

synopsis: was it wrong for sukai to think you’d always be with him? ⌙ 3.0k

pairing: childhood bsf!kinjo sukai x fem!reader

genre: angst

tags: all of us are dead!au, childhood friends to lovers (kinda not really), non-idol!au, highschool!au

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, zombie apocalypse, implied de/ath, a little bit of gore cause of the zombies?? there’s no comfort around here :/

author’s note: i’m currently rewatching aouad so i wrote this….

it felt like your body was going to shut down any second. the pitter patter of footsteps consumed your senses as you kept running and running, still lost in the maze that was considered your school. your friends followed behind you as you moved, in an attempt to find an empty classroom — room or something to shield you from the creatures.

of course you were terrified, who wouldn’t be? thoughts and emotions alike failed you yet you carried on.

but as always perseverance was key, right?

“over here!” sukai whisper-shouted from beside you.

he had found somewhere to stay safe from the zombies.

one by one, the group eagerly rushed into the overturned classroom, barely escaping the monsters outside. a hand had been caught in between the door, the zombie it was attached to growling slowly while moving its fingers with erratic movements. assembling together, everyone stood in front of the door and pushed it shut with all the might you could muster. the hand, now detached, fell to the floor with a thud.

your group wore expressions of disgust on their faces, physically cringing away from the scene. you of course did the same; moving towards a chair, you collapsed down quickly before your legs gave out. as you glanced around the room, a frown tugged at your lips, there were some missing.

what started as a group of twelve close-knit friends, then became nine and then finally six; sukai, kyosuke, ayane, yuma, rino and you. it was obvious they were worn out and you didn’t blame them.

you missed the others. so much. but you couldn’t help to believe it was your fault.

“we can’t stay here. we have to get out of the school.” kyosuke interrupted, his voice weak and raw.

“that’s fucking suicide, makki.” sukai argued, glancing around the room, his eyes settling in on dull eyes and exhausted faces. “we’re in no shape.”

“so you’d rather us drop dead from starvation?”

all eyes turned to rino.

“you’re crazy if you think we’re going to get through that hoard of monsters over there.” sukai simply replied.

this time yuma spoke up. “rino and kyo are right, there aren’t any options.”

amidst the chaos, your gaze flickers to sukai’s face, examining the clear signs of exhaustion plastered all over it.

“i agree.” your tone was firm.

and this time sukai could only relent.

yuma walked to the window, peering at the grown under. he hummed lightly, before turning back.

“i think i have a plan.”

immediately, you all gathered in the centre of the room.

“since we’re still on the ground floor, we can jump out this window.” he gestured towards it before continuing. “the fence isn’t that far, we have to first make it to open field and then the construction site; maybe even stop if necessary. there aren’t many zombies on this side so it’s the safest route.”

ayane stood up. “let’s get a few minutes of rest before we move, it won’t do us any good if half of us faint the minute we step out there.”

you sat, slumped against the wall of the classroom, only moving over to make space once sukai joined you. staring straight ahead in a daze, you feel a nudge from beside you.

“drink.” he said, pushing a bottle in your hands.

but it was mostly empty. “what about you?”

“me? you look half dead right now, just do me a favour and drink.”

“sukai—“

“i’m fine.”

hesitantly, you brought it to your lips before downing the water. it wasn’t much, but you were thankful.

for the remaining minutes, you both stayed there with the occasional glances at each other.

“will we make it out of here?”

a chuckle slipped out from you. “what happened to the tough guy image?”

“hey…” he trailed off, half-smiling.

you smiled, hand finding his. “of course we will. together.”

being sukai’s best friend for almost his whole life had its perks. you could easily read him, at least enough to know when he was truly concerned. you were grateful he found you reliable and trustworthy enough to be vulnerable with.

“together.” he repeated.

“make sure you’re armed.” kyosuke reminded, ever the responsible one in the group.

in careful preparation, you all scavenged the room and supply closet for objects that could be utilised as weapons; really just anything, ranging from brooms to screwdrivers or crowbars. there couldn’t be anymore setbacks, you thought, you didn’t know what you would do if another one of your friends got bit.

sukai approached the window first, pulling it open and peering down to see if it was clear.

“come on.” he nodded and gestured towards you, swinging a leg over the railing, and pushing off.

one by one, you followed his lead, sighing shakily once your feet touched the hard concrete beneath you. you advanced slowly, crouching while hiding behind walls.

reaching the back of the school building, your group’s movement came to a swift halt as per yuma’s whisper. there was a crowd of zombies, walking around aimlessly, groaning and bumping into each other.

“shit.” you heard rino whisper in front of you.

your grip tightened around the crowbar in your hand subconsciously. but you were obviously outnumbered.

you shook your head. you couldn’t think like that.

you shouldn’t think that.

a hand found its way to your shoulder. sukai.

“don’t be nervous. remember what we said.”

still crouched, you peered from the wall, noticing the cars parked in a frenzy around the field. fortunately most of the creatures roamed the basketball court which was far enough for you to get by unnoticed. however, time was ticking.

“we should split up into pairs, use the cars as a shield.” you suggested. “keep your weapons close and don’t make any sudden noises. be subtle.”

everyone else nodded in response. ayane and rino were the first to move, with the latter taking the lead and stealthily pulling ayane along to the first car. they crept forward, the faint sounds of their footsteps and occasional zombie growls surrounding them. soon, they finally passed the basketball court and reached the school’s sports shed, its stature providing a place to hide. and shortly after, kyosuke and yuma caught up with them, keeping their voices low. and then finally you with sukai.

once all at the shed, there was a calmer atmosphere. everything was going well.

that was, until it wasn’t.

was it your fault? probably.

this time, you moved swiftly as a group, the construction site was only a few metres away, and there was almost no zombies in the direct route. it was possible.

you were going to get out. with your friends.

there was nothing to shield you so the only option left was to beeline for it. and that’s exactly what you did. adrenaline pumped through you as your legs carried you as fast as they could, the grass padding underneath your feet. you were towards the back with sukai beside you, now moving infront.

that was until something wraps around your ankle, tugging you down. your shin hits the ground, and hard. a zombie. fingers clawed at you as you freeze in fear, its face becoming visible to you.

it was one of your friends, junki.

only a few moments slipped by before something pierced the skin of your calf, sending a jolt of pain through your body. you grit your teeth against the agony, feeling the creature's grip tighten. hoisting the crowbar high above your head, you brought it down, striking in one swift motion. the impact connected squarely with the zombie's skull, its grip on you loosening.

your throat tightened, the weight of your action crashing down onto you. that was your friend.

sukai rushed to you in concern.

“can you stand?” his words snap you out of your haze-filled daze.

you only slowly nod before using your hands to push yourself up — surprised when a stumble in your step nearly sent you down until sukai caught you.

“it’s just my leg.” you gestured to it. “we need to move.”

the others had already made it to the site safely. there wasn’t any time left to lose, the zombies were closer now.

hurriedly, sukai brings your arm around his shoulder, helping you move quickly. and somehow, his hard work paid off.

ayane moved a block on the ground, settling you down softly. only then does your leg start to ache, prompting you to peer down at the now-spreading crimson spot on your white socks.

slowly, you roll it down, exposing the large gash on your calf paired with a green-ish bruise on your shin. that’s once you realised.

you had been bitten.

glancing up, you noticed sukai unbuttoning his shirt and moving towards you.

“here.” he crouches down, getting to work wrapping the white cloth around your leg, tying it neatly. “just rest for a minute.”

you can almost taste the bitterness of regret in your mouth as the echoes of creatures roaming around overwhelmed your senses. now, you were sure of what to do.

getting up, you leaned against the wall for support watching as he did too.

“i can buy us some time.” all heads turned to you at the sound of your voice once again.

“i’m not following...?” sukai’s gaze alternated between everyone as he questioned your words.

exhaling shakily, you pressed once again. “i’ll stay here, so you all can leave. safely.”

“are you crazy?” yuma quipped.

a dry chuckle left your mouth. as if this wasn’t about the only time you were actually being sensible.

“i won’t make it out of here either way.”

“no. there’s no way.” now, it was sukai’s turn to blink in disbelief. “you’re coming. you’re going to leave with us. and we’re going to be saved.”

“i can’t leave you. i won’t.” his voice was weak as the adamant confession left his mouth.

“there’s no point, sukai. i would only slow you down.” you refused to meet his gaze, only glancing down at your injured leg. “please. don’t make this more harder for me than it already is.”

stepping closer, the boy cried.

“i’m here, i can do it— i’ll be able to. just not you.”

“no. i won’t let that. they need you over there.” gesturing to the uneasy group behind him. “you’re fast, smart and capable.”

trying your hardest, you suppressed your tears, you never wanted to leave your friends. you never wanted to leave sukai.

enveloping your hands in his, a light plead left his lips.

“look at me, [name]. don’t do this. i won’t be able to do anything without you. i need you.”

“i got bit, sukai. there’s no saving me.”

the boy lowered his head in defeat, and somehow the pain lodged deep in your chest worsened.

“you’d said we’ll leave.” his voice broke. “together. remember?”

( during the bus ride home, sukai’s head rested comfortably on your shoulder, his features peaceful while he slept blissfully. and you couldn’t help but to watch through your peripheral vision. your content sigh was immediate. however, that was the moment when you realised. you liked kinjo sukai.

‘attachment was never the plan.’ you could remember repeating internally. though, it was all in vain. nothing could stop the feeling when around him.

the feeling of your heart almost jumping out your chest. the feeling of your head reeling whenever in close proximity with sukai. the feeling of not just like, but love.

“what are you deeply thinking about, hm?” a voice rasped out.

sukai shot you a wide grin, the remnants of slumber evidently displayed across his features. with eyes slightly puffy, and misplaced hair strands from being on your shoulder for too long — sukai has never looked cuter, you think believe. )

“don’t you know i feel the same? but i need to do this too. it was always coming, you knew it. i knew it. they knew.” a smile turned at your mouth tilting your head to finally meet his eyes, the tears finally falling. “just know that i love you, okay?”

“you love me?”

“i thought that was obvious.” you paused, seemingly realising something. “give me your hand.”

he complied hurriedly, outstretching his hand with a raised brow in confusion. fishing something out of your jumper pocket, you placed it promptly in his palm.

it was your name tag.

“[name]…” his head was down.

the fact was that kinjo sukai wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to not sob right then and there.

two trembling but nimble hands found their way to his cheeks, cradling his face softly and tilting his chin up.

you softly whispered, voice only loud enough for him to hear. “make sure you live your years to the fullest and have an amazing life. don’t cry too much and don’t worry. i won’t forgive you if you do.”

“but—“

soft and plush lips came into contact with his, cutting his words. the kiss quickly ranged from sweet to salty when the boy started crying. it was slow and full of emotion.

you pulled away shortly.

“i’ll miss you. so fucking much.” the words came out a whisper from him.

the banter never made it past your lips. instead, you didn’t reply.

it was clear that you were scared, but you’d gladly sacrifice yourself for the ones you loved. for kinjo sukai, the man you loved. one second stretched into a minute, time slowed when in his presence.

the way his concern-filled gaze pierced yours made your voice shaky. “i’ll distract them and give you time to run. once you make it past, don't look back, just keep moving.” you paused. “stay safe, okay?”

( “do you think we’ll ever be apart?” sukai asked, fiddling with the cheese stick you’d bought to share — he offered to wear your backpack on his front in return — trudging his feet along whilst walking the pavement. “you know, with how you’re planning to go to university after.”

tapping your chin, you pretended to be deep in thought. “you’re not going to attend uni?”

“i’m still thinking about it.”

“let’s go to the same university then. ‘cause i don’t think i can go without you.”

the proposal was short, yet it seemed to cause his heart to race quicker in his chest. a light crimson painted sukai’s cheeks which he hid much to his dismay by adjusting the straps of both your backpacks. when he glanced over, you’d already caught him out, chuckling lightly.

“stop it.” he mumbled. “you’re always making fun of me.”

that was before the boy suddenly jolted forward, nearly tumbling over. in a swift motion, you had slyly managed to kick the back of his knees, contentedly watching him almost crumple down before breaking out into a sprint.

“last one to the traffic light!” )

after retracting your hands, they fell to your sides almost immediately. just as you turned around, you heard the cracking of pebbles under several feet before feeling a tap on your shoulder.

it was your friends.

stood side by side, they frowned, before rino stepped forward and placed two trash bin lids in your hands.

“i know i can’t really stop you. so we won’t let this be in vain.” she frowned, the others following along with their own saddened expressions.

just as yuma widened his arms, the sound of bone cracking echoed, the ring finger of your left hand jerking up.

“you guys need to go. now.” you swallowed thickly in an attempt to calm the thumping of your heart.

“please. do it for me.”

sukai inched closer towards you once again. “[name].”

“get out of here.” the words came out harsher than intended. you placed a hand in front of your body, glancing towards your friends for help. “guys, please.”

the thought of sukai seeing you turn was heartbreaking.

when they started to crowd around him, trying to pull him away, you limped to the far end of the construction site, through the concrete walls.

you began hastily clashing the trash bin lids together. ‘what a cacophony indeed,’ you could almost hear kyosuke joke. and with the loud noise, you heard groaning and loud footsteps heading straight towards you.

this was it.

and that was the last sukai saw heard from you. the group too heard the sound of collective footsteps towards the construction site they’d just escaped.

kyosuke dragged sukai by his shirt, pulling him along as they sprinted towards the fence guarding the school from the neighbouring area. luckily, the fence had been cut. ayane and yuma, being the smallest of the bunch, slipped under first to pull it back for the rest to fit.

they were free of the school. so they kept running and running.

only minutes later did they reach something peculiar. a barricade with people crowding behind it. people, not zombies. black uniforms filled the site. they had finally found help.

they were saved.

and kinjo sukai should’ve been overjoyed, he knew. but only tears dampened his cheeks and memories of you crossed his mind.

two trembling fingers raised themselves to brush his lips lightly. the ones you kissed, and his clenched fist that cradled the worn-out nametag. the taste that crowded his mouth was bitter.

that was all he had to remember you.

reblogs are appreciated!!

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | vi

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.6K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, attacks on animals, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of mental health, only half proofread, use of crude language

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a/n: it hurt me to write this chapter 😭

You weren’t particularly close to your father. His life revolved around his work—the family business he hadn’t wanted but had accepted out of obligation when your uncles, San and Jongho’s fathers, stepped aside, unwilling to subject their sons to the challenges of running a conglomerate.

Sometimes you wished he had done the same too. 

He was often away, traveling to meet clients or locked in endless board meetings. He wasn’t the type of man to swoop in with comforting words or a warm embrace. Instead, he listened without interrupting, nodded without judgment, and spoke only when he felt it was necessary. Despite the distance between you, his steady presence had a way of making you feel oddly secure.

And maybe that was why, as you paced the length of your penthouse, you found yourself dialing his number. Mingi followed your every move, his small body glued to your side. He kept glancing up at you, occasionally tripping you with how close he was.

“Come on, pick up, pick up…” You muttered to yourself. Your pacing carried you in a loop—through the kitchen, into the dining room you barely used, and then into the living room. Then, you wandered back into the kitchen, your footsteps quickening with every unanswered ring.

“Y/N?”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you stopped pacing, planting yourself in the middle of the kitchen as Mingi bumped up against your ankles. 

“Dad!”

“Is everything alright?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the phone. How were you supposed to explain everything that had transpired the last few weeks without sounding unhinged? 

What were you even supposed to say? Hi, Dad. Quick question: Are you sure the woman you’re married to is actually my mother?

Your parents’ marriage had always seemed like a curious thing to you. It was a product of an arrangement. Yet, over the years, your father’s quiet gestures of affection seemed to keep your mother content, even happy.

Surely, he couldn’t have had an affair.

The idea felt absurd, but then again, you’d always felt like a stranger in your own home, an outsider looking in at a family that didn’t quite seem to know where you fit.

“I-I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t want to call mom because…you know how she gets.”

Your mother had a flair for theatrics, a tendency to turn even the smallest inconvenience into a grand production. If you’d called her instead, the situation would have escalated before you even finished explaining. 

“What’s going on?”

“I…” You faltered for a moment, running a hand through your hair before continuing your train of thought.

“There’s this woman who I think has been stalking me. A friend of mine was dogsitting Maro when she approached him at the park.” Your voice dropped slightly, recounting your conversation with Yeosang. 

“She recognized Maro…and referred to me as her daughter.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you took a moment to crouch down and stroke Mingi’s fur as he leaned into your side. 

“I don’t know who she is,” you admitted softly. “But…something about her felt wrong. And it’s been bothering me ever since.”

“Did she hurt you or Maro?”

“No, but she tried to abduct a little girl a few weeks ago. We stopped her and she fled.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. 

You froze mid-step, his words rooting you in place. “Okay,” you said hesitantly, your voice small.

“I need you to stay put,” he continued. “Don’t do anything or go anywhere, especially not alone. I’m going to call the lawyers and have them review the court order and police files.”

“Court order?” you repeated, confusion rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Call either San or Jongho,” he said instead, his tone softening just enough to sound like a plea. 

“Let them know I’ve asked one of them to stay with you until we sort this out.”

“Dad, what court order?” you pressed, gripping the phone tighter as your heart raced. 

Mingi, sensing your distress, pawed at you insistently, his soft whines urging you to sit down. But you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your focus away from the ominous edge in your father’s voice.

“There was an incident when you were three. If she is who I think she is, she’s someone we dealt with a long time ago.”

“Who?”

“Your former nanny,” he admitted, his voice steady but grim. “She tried to take you,” he said bluntly. 

“At first, she seemed fine. Kind, attentive, everything you’d want for a child. But things started escalating. Your mother noticed something was off right after she lost her own daughter in an accident. She’d grown too attached to you. Too possessive. We let her go, but before we could take any legal action, she attempted to abduct you.”

“She tried to kidnap me?”

“She managed to evade security at first. It was like any other day. But by the time we realized what was happening, she was already on her way to the airport with you.” 

The room spun, and before you realized it, you had sunk to the floor. The color drained from your face as the weight of the revelation hit you. Mingi froze, his small body going still as he struggled to process the gravity of what he was hearing.  

He let out a soft whine, curling closer to you. He hadn’t fully understood your fears, the reasons behind your walls, the way panic sometimes overtook you without warning.

Now, as a dog, powerless to do anything but sit beside you, the weight of guilt felt almost unbearable.

“We caught her in time,” he continued quickly, his tone shifting, as if trying to calm you. 

“She didn’t make it far. Security intercepted her at the gate just as she was preparing to board a flight. We filed charges immediately and she was arrested.”

“But?” you scoffed. “Your money and influence couldn’t keep her behind bars?”

“We didn’t think she’d ever get out, Y/N. The charges were serious, and the evidence was solid. At the time, we were assured she’d be locked away for decades.” He hesitated, and for a moment, you thought you heard his voice waver. 

“You were so young. We didn’t want to burden you with something you wouldn’t even remember. We thought we could protect you from it all.”

“So much for power,” you muttered bitterly, rubbing your temples. “She seems to be escalating. She’s openly trying to kidnap children now. Who knows what else she’s capable of?”

Your father’s sigh was heavy. “Which is why you’re not to go anywhere alone, Y/N. Not until this is resolved.”

“Dad—”

“I’ll be increasing the security presence around the penthouse as well. And before you ask, yes, I'll be coordinating with Mingi’s family to ensure their resources are aligned with ours.”

The mention of your in-laws made your stomach twist. They were probably unaware of the situation, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. You could already imagine your mother-in-law spinning the story to her social circle about her damsel of a daughter-in-law and how her poor son was unable to save her. The thought of being the centerpiece of their gossip left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Make sure there’s a secure presence at the hospital too,” you said, cutting in before the conversation could linger on your in-laws. 

“She might try something there.”

Your father arched a brow. He knew you didn’t particularly like being married to Mingi—he wasn’t blind to the strain in your relationship. Truthfully, he regretted agreeing to the arrangement in the first place. He’d witnessed firsthand the coldness with which Mingi had treated you, most notably the way he’d rebuffed your birthday gathering that first year of marriage. It had been a bitter reminder that not all alliances were worth the price they came with.

But upon hearing your request, it made him realize that you had always been kinder, and more compassionate than those around him. While he had always seemed distant, caught up in his own world of business and power, moments like these reminded him that you had grown into someone he was proud of. Someone who cared, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

“Is there anything else that you need?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “But I’m not going to live in fear forever. She doesn’t get to have that power over me.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just want you to be safe.”

The line disconnected and you set the phone down, your hand lingering on it for a moment before turning back to Mingi. You felt a surge of emotions–anger, frustration, fear, and a flicker of determination. 

But when you saw him sitting patiently on the floor, watching you intently with his big eyes, fluffy ears, and wrinkled nose, everything inside you softened. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in that moment, and your heart ached with affection. 

“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it,” you squealed, the intensity of your emotions spilling out in a completely unexpected way. 

Without thinking, you scooped him into your arms, pressing your face against his soft fur as you swayed back and forth with him. Mingi melted into your embrace, his small body going limp as he relished your warmth. 

“I just want to squish you!” you exclaimed, giggling as you kissed him between the ears. 

Mingi let out a soft, rumbling growl, not out of annoyance but because he didn’t know how else to respond to the flood of emotions washing over him. If only you knew how deeply he wanted to protect you, not just as a dog, but as the man who had failed to see your worth for far too long.

“I should probably text the group chat,” you murmured, reaching for your phone while balancing Mingi securely in your other arm.

[Y/N]: My dad said I can have a sleepover

[Grumpy Bear]: fuck yeah

[Mountain Mayne]: Can Kira come too?”

[Y/N]: Only Kira, you stay home

⋆

Mingi found himself scowling, scooped up in San’s arms, as the four of you lounged in your living room, covered in mountains of blankets, pillows, and snacks. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this situation, but he was definitely not thrilled when your cousins and San’s fiancée came crashing into the penthouse after you summoned them with a single text.

“Why isn’t the dog distribution system working for us?” San asked, holding Mingi out toward Kira like he was some kind of offering. Mingi shot him a glare, but the effect was somewhat lost given his tiny size and the way his fur poofed up around his face.

“Because we already have three cats at home,” she replied, chomping on a piece of cheese without looking up from her phone. San sighed dramatically, pulling Mingi back to cradle him like a baby. 

“Don’t worry, Maro, I'll save you from your owner and her evil husband.”

Mingi bristled, his fur puffing out even more. He barked indignantly, but it only made San laugh as he nuzzled Mingi’s fluffy face.

“Yeah, if the evil husband ever wakes up,” Jongho snorted from under his fortress of blankets. 

The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of Howl’s Moving Castle playing in the background. Mingi froze, his small body tensing in San’s arms. His ears flattened against his head as Jongho’s words echoed in his mind. 

Sure, he hadn’t been a perfect husband. He wasn’t even sure he’d been a good one. But…evil?

“Oh come on, that’s not fair,” you replied, albeit with an edge to your tone. 

“What?” Jongho raised his hands defensively, his expression a mix of guilt and awkwardness. 

“It was a joke. I mean, come on, the guy cheated, publicly humiliated you… you can do so much better, Y/N.”

“I know a good divorce lawyer,” Kira added, waving her phone as if the solution to your problems was just a call away. 

The truth of their words clawed at Mingi, a painful reminder of everything he’d done wrong. He wanted to bark, to growl, to defend himself, but what could he even say? That they were wrong? They weren’t. Not completely.

You inhaled sharply, your lips pressing into a thin line as you plopped down next to San. He glanced at you, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on the small dog curled stiffly in his arms.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice clipped as you reached out and gently plucked Maro out of your cousin’s arms. He went still in your hold, his small body tensing as he waited for what you’d say next.

“Mingi has his own problems, but right now, he doesn’t have anyone in his corner. I don’t know what will happen when he wakes up, but it’s not fair to say things like that when he’s not here.” You cradled him closer, your touch instinctively protective as if shielding him from their judgement. 

Jongho exhaled loudly, his earlier confidence deflating as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets. “Fair point,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. That was out of line.”

Mingi stayed silent, nestled in your arms, his mind racing. You could have left him at the hospital. You could have walked away, started over. Hell, maybe you should have. You could have even entertained the thought of dating Seonghwa, or Yeosang, or anyone else. Anyone but him.

But you hadn’t.

You spent countless nights in that hospital room, talking to him, even when he couldn’t say anything back. You stood up for him, even now, when he didn’t deserve it.

Mingi could picture it so clearly: someone else making you laugh, someone else holding your hand, someone else seeing the best parts of you. 

Maybe they were right, he thought bitterly. Maybe you really could do better. 

But even if that was true, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Not when there was still a sliver of hope that he might wake up, make amends, and find a way back to being the man you once believed he could be.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you announced, rising to your feet with an exaggerated stretch. “It’s way past bedtime.”

“I’ll stay here,” San declared. “In case your stalker tries anything.”

“Good for you, honey,” Kira patted his shoulder. “But I’m going into one of the guest rooms because that’s what sane people do.”

“You’ve got this covered,” Jongho muttered sleepily, dragging himself out of the blanket pile. He stretched with a loud yawn and shuffled toward his room without even waiting for a reply.

“We’re supposed to be in this together,” San grumbled, throwing a pillow halfheartedly at Jongho’s retreating figure. It missed by a wide margin, flopping harmlessly to the floor.

As you slipped into your room, the shift was immediate. The air turned quiet and soft, a reprieve from the playful chaos outside. You closed the door gently and set Mingi down on the bed, his fluffy body sinking into the plush comforter.

He sat perfectly still, watching you move around the room. You pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and fluffed the pillows before finally settling in.

Patting the space beside you, you called softly, “Time for bed.”

He padded over, his small paws making barely a sound as he climbed onto the blankets and curled up near your side. When he tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, you giggled.

“I love you. Night night, puppy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, Mingi stayed awake, tracing the gentle slope of your nose to the soft curve of your lips. It all seemed so fleeting, like everything could slip away in the blink of an eye. 

He sighed softly, rolling onto his back and then to his side again, unable to find a comfortable position. San’s snores rumbled faintly through the door, a reminder of the others nearby. But Mingi’s mind was too restless to relax.

His mind drifted to his last task: What did it mean to offer you happiness without expecting anything in return?

Isn’t it about giving you what you wanted? Protecting you, making you laugh, or ensuring you were never alone? But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became.

How could he possibly give you that when so much of his past had been spent hurting you?

He remembered the times he’d chosen his own pride over your feelings, the cruel words he couldn’t take back, the moments he’d walked away when you needed him most. He had made you feel small, like you were the one who didn’t belong, the one who wasn’t good enough for him, all while he continued living his life while you were left to pick up the pieces of your own. 

“You’re home all the time, don’t you have any friends?”

Your response had been blunt, cold, almost dismissive. 

“No, they’re dead.”

That was all you said to him. No explanation, just a heavy finality that left him speechless. He didn’t know what it meant then, but now, looking back, it felt like a confession, a glimpse into a part of you that was buried beneath the walls you’d built to protect yourself after losing Hongjoong.  

Kim Hongjoong, the ghost of a man who had never left your heart. The man who had held a place there long before Mingi had even existed in your life. And in that moment, jealousy crept in. It was sharp, bitter, the thought of losing you to a ghost threatening to consume him.

He hated that Hongjoong would always carry that piece of your heart he couldn’t touch, a piece that belonged to someone who had once been your everything. Because in this moment, Mingi, more than anything, coveted that place in your heart. 

No matter how much he tried to remind himself that he was here, that he was now, it didn’t quell the sense of inadequacy growing within him. He couldn’t love you with the expectation of erasing your past or taking what wasn’t his to have.

If he was to prove himself, to earn his humanity, it couldn’t be about him. It had to come from a place of selflessness. He had to love you for who you were, even if it meant living in the shadow of a ghost. Even if it meant never being able to fully claim a place in your heart.

Even if it might mean accepting that some parts of you could never belong to him, no matter how much he wanted them to. And as painful as that truth was, Mingi knew it was the only way forward.

He nestled into your side, his fluffy form fitting snugly against you as he placed a paw against your nose. The steady rise and fall of your chest soothed him, reminding him that he was yours, even if it was only as Maro. 

“I’m so bored,” you groaned, hanging your head over the back of the couch dramatically. The ceiling wasn’t particularly interesting, but you were so desperate for stimulation that you started counting the corners of the crown molding.

Kira glanced over from the kitchen, her brow furrowing in concentration as she whisked a bowl of batter with a bit too much vigor. 

“You should try being useful. Come help me bake.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” you muttered, sliding further down the couch until you were almost horizontal. “I’ve seen every corner of this penthouse.” 

“Drama queen,” she said lightly. “You’re safe here. That’s what matters. And besides, I thought you’d enjoy the time off.”

“Time off from what?”

“I don’t know? The hospital? The back and forth must be draining.”

You hummed in response, though that was all you could muster. Draining wasn’t quite the word for it. It was true the days spent at the hospital had a way of blurring together, but you didn’t mind staying there. In some strange way, it felt right.

At the hospital, you had a routine. You’d arrive in the evening, lay on the sofa and stare out into nothingness. Sometimes you’d read, talk to him about trivial things, or just sit quietly, the hum of the monitors filling the silence. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A way to show him that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t respond.

Because deep down, you knew he needed someone on his side.

It wasn’t easy to admit, even to yourself, but a part of you still held out hope for reconciliation. Not the fairytale kind, where everything magically resolved and all wounds were healed, but something quieter. A mutual understanding, perhaps. A moment where he’d open up, even just a little, and let you see the person behind all the walls he’d built.

You knew he was hurting. You’d always known, even when he tried to mask it with anger or indifference. His actions, the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks, were all symptoms of something deeper.  

But there was another part of you, a quieter voice that you couldn’t ignore. The part that braced for no change at all. That prepared for the possibility that when, if, he woke up, he’d still be the same person he was before. That he’d still look at you like you were the problem, the obstacle, the thing standing in the way of his happiness.

That part of you longed for freedom.

You’d spent so much time tangled up in his chaos, in his pain, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just...be.

Maybe, if and when he woke up, he’d be willing to part ways. And maybe that would be for the best.

“I ran out of eggs!”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”

“Eggs!” she repeated, holding up the empty carton. “I can’t believe I forgot them. I’m halfway through making this cake, and now I have to stop everything to run to the store.”

“I’ll go with you!” you said quickly, standing up from the couch so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Kira froze, narrowing her eyes at you. “You know you’re not supposed to leave.”

“And you’re supposed to be at the courthouse, but here you are, baking a cake for a man.”

“First of all, it’s called paid time off,” she replied, narrowing her eyes further. “Secondly, San’s stroke game is top tier.”

“Oh my God, stop!” you cut her off, throwing your hands up. 

“I do not want to hear about your sex life with my cousin. He used to eat mud as a kid.”

Kira rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Anyway,” she continued, “your dad would absolutely kill me. He gave strict orders to keep you here. And unlike you, I actually follow them.”

“Come on, Kira,” you pleaded. Your eyes landed on Maro, lounging nearby. You scooped him up in one swift motion, holding him up like a fluffy shield. 

“Even Maro thinks it’s a good idea!”

Mingi tilted his head, his dark eyes widening as he gave Kira his best impression of a sad, helpless puppy.

“Look at him. He’s begging you.”

Kira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s a quick trip. Five minutes, tops,” you promised, your tone bordering on desperate. “I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay by your side the entire time!”

She sighed, clearly wavering. “Fine.”

The ding of the store’s bell announced your arrival, and the comforting smell of fried food from the deli counter made your stomach grumble. Kira grabbed a basket, striding purposefully toward the back where the eggs were stashed.

“Eggs,” she said firmly, shooting you a warning glance over her shoulder.

“Got it,” you replied, though your eyes immediately wandered to the chip aisle.

The small store was quiet, almost unnervingly still, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. As you followed Kira, your gaze flicked around the store—a habit you’d picked up recently without fully realizing it. Your shoulders tensed, the faint prickling sensation at the back of your neck making you feel exposed. It was probably nothing, you told yourself, trying to brush it off.

Kira tossed a carton of eggs into the basket and turned to you with a raised brow. “Anything else?”

Her voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby rack and a pack of chocolate-covered pretzels from the next shelf over.

“Alright, ready!” you chirped. 

The cashier rang up your items without much fuss, and soon you were both on your way. But as the store door clicked shut behind you, that sense of discomfort returned. You glanced over your shoulder, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might draw unwanted attention.

Your eyes darted to the empty street ahead, scanning the familiar buildings and darkened windows. It looked deserted, but the nagging feeling told you otherwise.

“You okay?” Kira asked, noticing your hesitation.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, the word tumbling out a little too fast. You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. 

You told yourself it was nothing, a stray thought feeding your paranoia. But as you turned the corner toward your apartment, your worst fears materialized. A shadow detached itself from the side of a building ahead, stepping into the weak glow of the nearest streetlamp. Your stomach dropped, and your chest tightened when you noticed the glint of the knife in hand. 

“Y/N.”

Your stalker. Your former nanny. 

Kira froze beside you, her posture immediately tense. Her free hand twitched toward her phone, but her other gripped your arm tightly, as if anchoring you in place. You shook her off with a small, almost imperceptible gesture, your lips moving silently to form the words: Call San.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t argue. She stepped back, her movements careful as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Hey…mom,” you said, your voice trembling but just steady enough to hold its own. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but it was all you could think of to buy yourself time.

The woman’s head tilted, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender. “Oh, my sweet Y/N,” she cooed, taking a step closer. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” she continued. “You’ve grown so much. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

The delusion in her voice sent ice down your spine. She didn’t just see you as a person. You were a possession—something she believed she owned.

“It’s been a while,” you said cautiously, keeping your tone light, though your hands trembled at your sides. 

“What…what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home!”

“Right…home,” you repeated, your stomach churning at the word. You took a step back, careful to keep your movements slow and nonthreatening. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk and catch up? I just ate, and walking helps with digestion. Did you know that?”

The woman blinked, her head tilting further to the side. For a moment, she seemed caught off guard by the suggestion.

“A walk?” she echoed, suspicion flickering across her face before fading into hesitant curiosity. “You want to spend time with me?”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “O-Of course! I mean, it’s been so long, right? We have so much to talk about.”

Behind you, Kira moved as quietly as possible, her phone pressed to her ear as she whispered into the receiver. The nanny walked ahead, still clutching the knife tightly in her hand as your figures disappeared into the darkness.

⋆

Mingi paced restlessly around the penthouse, his claws clicking softly against the floor. His tail flicked with agitation, and his ears twitched, straining to catch a sound that wasn’t there. Something felt wrong—deeply, inexplicably wrong. You were only supposed to be gone with Kira for five  minutes. 

But those five minutes had turned to an hour. 

The door to the penthouse slammed open, and Jongho burst inside, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His face was pale and his brow furrowed deeply as he listened to the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I’m here now,” he said hurriedly, his tone clipped and tense. Mingi froze mid-step, his ears flicking forward as Jongho’s words sank in. Looking for you? His heart dropped. Did something happen to you?

“I’ll stay here in case she comes back. Yes, San and Kira are out looking for her along with law enforcement.”

Mingi’s nose twitched, catching the faint remnants of Jongho’s scent. There was something else mingled with it—the sharp tang of fear. A shiver ran down his spine. Jongho wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.

In his frenzy, Jongho forgot to shut the door completely. It clicked behind him, but the latch didn’t catch, leaving it slightly ajar as he retreated further into the penthouse. 

Mingi knew you were most definitely scared, but were relying on your wit to keep your abductor as distracted for as long as possible. But it could only go so far. You needed help. You needed him.

He darted after Jongho, letting out a short, sharp yip that made him turn with a frown.

“Maro?” Jongho’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi barked again, more insistent this time. He jumped in place, then headbutted Jongho's leg with surprising force, urging him toward the hallway. When Jongho still didn’t move, Mingi let out a sharp yip, trotted to the door, and paused to bark over his shoulder. Come on, follow me!

Out in the hallway, Mingi’s incessant barking continued until Jongho relented, reaching out to push the call button for the elevator. 

Jongho stared down at the little dog, confusion etched across his face. “Why are you so interested in the elevator?” 

Mingi stayed silent in an attempt to get this timing right. Then, as soon as the doors began to close, he darted forward, squeezing inside at the last second. Jongho blinked, momentarily stunned, before the realization hit him.

“I just…got played by a dog.”

Outside, Mingi paused just long enough to pick up your scent on the breeze. Darting forward, Mingi weaved through the bustling crowd, his small frame slipping unnoticed between legs and around obstacles. His nose twitched, staying locked on the trail, as he took off into the night with the promise of finding you

“I’m coming,” he whispered under his breath, to keep himself moving. His legs burned, and his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop.

Your nanny stood a few feet away, as you guided her to a nearby park. Her body taut with a kind of unnatural stillness. Her expression was deceptively calm, but her eyes gleamed with something unhinged.

“How have you been? You’re married right? I see the ring on your finger.”

Your fingers twitched involuntarily, brushing against the cool platinum of your wedding band. It felt heavier than usual under her scrutinizing gaze. “I am,” you replied, keeping your tone calm and steady despite the way your stomach churned.

“Almost three years now.”

“Three years? That’s wonderful. What’s your husband like? Oh, I’d love to meet him!”

“Unfortunately, he’s on a business trip overseas. B-But when he comes back, maybe we could have dinner.”

Her smile stretched impossibly wider, her eyes glinting with a strange light as she clasped her hands together. “Dinner? Oh, how wonderful! Just like old times!”

“Y-Yeah, just like old times. You, me, um, Mingi and…dad.”

“Dad?” she echoed, her voice hollow and strained. “Your father?”

The moment the word "Dad" left your lips, her expression darkened and her grip on the knife tightened, turning her knuckles white as the blade trembled in her hand.

“No! Not him! Not while he’s married to that bitch!” she spat venomously. 

“You know, his wife didn’t love you like I did! She didn’t raise you! She wasn’t there for you!”

Her face twisted with fury, her voice rising as she screamed. “She left you behind! Do you remember that? Do you? She didn’t care about you! She abandoned you—threw you away like trash! But me? I stayed. I cared. I’m your family!”

Mingi’s ears perked up at the sound of that voice. It was her—the same woman who had tried to abduct Yena weeks ago. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he forced his down, shifting his focus to the sights and sounds around him. In the distance, he caught fragments of Kira’s raised voice, as she argued with the District Attorney.

“She should never have been released!” 

“Her delusions weren’t just untreated, they were escalating. And instead of following protocol, the facility discharged her prematurely without an appropriate plan in place.”

Mingi’s ears flicked toward the sound as Kira’s voice grew louder, her pace quickening.

“The ruling was explicit! The family was to be notified of any changes in her care plan. But no one was! And now she’s out here, putting Y/N in danger!”

The echoes of Kira’s tirade faded into the background as Mingi tuned everything else out, his focus narrowing to a single goal. Find you. Protect you.

She won’t hurt you. I won’t let her, he promised. 

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you searched for the right words to diffuse the situation. “You’re right,” you said gently, taking a slow step forward as your eyes stayed locked on the blade.

“I should’ve done more to stay in touch. You were important to me, and I didn’t show that the way I should have.”

Mingi crept closer, staying low and moving with careful precision. His small frame blended with the shadows cast by the trees, his paws silent against the ground. His ears were pinned back as he watched the stalker. For a split second, her grip on the knife faltered. Her expression softened, dimming into something more fragile, almost childlike.

But then her face contorted again. “You’re lying!” she screamed, taking a step toward you. 

“You don’t mean that! You’re just saying that to make me go away.” She took a step closer, the knife jerking with her erratic movements.

His nose twitched, catching the faint scent of your fear mingled with her unbridled rage. Her emotions were spiraling out of control, and with every step she took, the gap between you and danger grew smaller.

“I’m not,” you said firmly, taking a careful step backwards. 

“I mean it. You were there for me when I needed someone, and I want to be here for you now. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”

She hesitated, the knife wavering slightly in her grip. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like your words might be getting through.

Mingi inched closer, his eyes tracking her trembling hand, and his body tensed, ready to spring.

“You’ll leave me again! Just like her!”

That was his cue. With a burst of speed, Mingi darted forward, his small body a blur of motion. His sharp teeth clamped down on her ankle, eliciting a startled cry. She stumbled, but her fury only intensified. She lashed out blindly, her hand sweeping through the air, the knife flashing dangerously.

“Maro!” you screamed. 

Without hesitation, you lunged forward, your heart pounding as you reached for her wrist. Your grip was firm, fueled by adrenaline and sheer determination as you kicked her back, sending her stumbling slightly. With a swift motion, you scooped Mingi into your arms, cradling him against your chest.

As she steadied herself, her arm swung wildly and you raised your arm to shield Mingi. The knife sliced through your forearm leaving streaks of blood, but you didn’t let go, tightened your hold on him as you focused on the woman in front of you.

“I’m sorry you lost your daughter,” you began, your tone water as you tried to bite back the pain radiating down your arm.  

“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been carrying, or how much it’s changed you. I’m sure whatever happened broke you in ways no one can see. But trying to replace her won’t bring her back.”

You could see the tears threatening to spill over, but they did nothing to soften her. If anything, they seemed to fuel her anger. Her grip on the knife tightened as she took a shaky step toward you. Your heart pounded and Mingi whimpered softly, pressing his small body closer to yours, and you instinctively held him tighter, bracing yourself.

“Police! Drop your weapon!” 

“Y/N!” your dad’s voice rang out. You turned your head just enough to see him running toward you, San and Kira close behind, flanked by a group of police officers.

The stalker froze, her head snapping toward the source of the commotion. Her grip on the knife faltered, and for a split second, you thought she might comply. But then her face contorted with fury once more, and she tightened her hold, her body tensing as if preparing to lunge.

“Stay back!” she screamed, her voice shrill and panicked.

The officers fanned out, their weapons drawn, their voices calm but firm as they repeated their commands. “Drop the knife! Put it down now!”

Your dad reached you first, his hand gripping your shoulder as he stepped slightly in front of you. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, his sharp eyes taking in the blood streaking down your arm and the puppy trembling in your hold.

“She cut me,” you admitted, glancing at the blood streaking down your arm. “It’s not deep, but—” You shifted Mingi slightly in your hold, cradling him closer. 

Mingi let out a soft, sleepy sigh, his head resting heavily against your chest as your dad checked you over. His breaths came slower now, each one softer than the last. His little paws twitched as though he were trying to cling to you.

His mind wandered, a hazy string of thoughts pulling him along. He couldn’t wait to go home, to finally feel safe and warm. He imagined curling up in your lap, nuzzling into your arms while you stroked his fur. He thought about Hetmon and all the running around they’re going to do at the park.

Oh, and snacks, he thought sleepily. Lots of snacks. His little tail gave a faint twitch at the thought, but even that felt like too much effort now.

Just a nap, he thought. I’ll rest for a bit, then we’ll go home. We’ll be okay.

When Mingi woke, the air around him was...different. It wasn’t the plush sheets of your bed or the soft pillow he’d grown accustomed to sleeping on. Instead, he found himself in a small, cozy basket lined with a soft cushion, placed near a gently crackling fireplace. 

He blinked, his vision adjusting to the soft light streaming through the windows of a small cottage. The space was intimate, with wooden walls lined with shelves overflowing with books, plants, and stacks of parchment. The scent of tea and ink hung in the air, faint but familiar, tugging at something deep in Mingi’s memory.

The atmosphere was comforting, nostalgic even, though Mingi couldn’t quite place why. 

“Ah,” the man said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You’re finally awake.”

Mingi’s ears perked up as he turned toward the sound. A man crouched next to him–his features were sharp but his expression was soft and kind. Mingi tilted his head, his ears twitching as he studied the man. He’d never met him before, but his scent was unmistakable. 

It was audacious and bold, much like the jazz notes he remembered sitting on the piano back at home. 

Kim Hongjoong?

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[corvitine]

About that Oc ask.

I nominate Tik-cha because he is very charming, also Vra-ath because of his stylish scales and Dahlia of course, how could I not ^^

Who would your OC most likely to get a puppy-crush on? (but it can't be the cc they're actually shipped with!)

Is there someone your OC didn't like at first, but then got along with later?

What is the worst thing your OC does in their story?

Who does your OC love? (platonic)

And most importantly and somewhat original.

What spice would they be?

Who would your OC most likely get a puppy crush on?

Tik-cha: I don’t see him developing a crush on anyone. He’s probably aromantic, and doesn’t trust people.

Vra’ath: I’m not sure who Vra’ath would develop a crush on that is part of his story. It’s difficult for me to say who he’d have feelings for that he isn’t in a relationship with (Izi). He’s more likely to be physically attracted to someone than have an actual crush.

Dahlia: So let’s say Dahlia didn’t have a crush on her dream guardian. Maybe she’d have had a crush on Wyll. He’s sweet, she finds him attractive, and he’s the type of person I can see her having a crush on.

Is there someone your OC didn’t like at first, but then got along with later?

Tik-cha: Well he doesn’t really like/trust anyone so yeah. His friend Jule would probably count. She’s the one that introduced him to guns and the only person he’d call a friend.

Vra’ath: I can see his friend Cherish annoying/making him uncomfortable when they first met. She’s talkative and likes knowing everyone’s business (she’s sweet but a gossip) and I’m sure that rubbed him the wrong way. But now they’re friends.

Dahlia: Lae’zel and Dahlia didn’t get along at first. Lae thought she was too soft and Dahlia got angry at her for her comments about her people. But now the two of them are best friends.

What’s the worst thing your OC does in their story?

Tik-cha: He killed someone that he thought was going to stab him in the back. She wasn’t but he got paranoid and murdered her. He regrets this.

Vra’ath: Depends on who you ask. His kin would say being soft and leaving his people/betraying them. His ex would say not feeling the same way he felt about Vra and not going with him. Others might say it’s githyanki typical violence (he’s not one to be cruel but he will fight when necessary and does like a good fight. So seeing him kill pirates or other threats and seemingly enjoy it might make people say he’s awful for that).

Dahlia: She thinks the worst thing she’s done is consume Orpheus. Taking away the githyanki prince and putting those around her in danger because of it is what she’s most guilty about.

Who does your OC love (platonic)?

Tik-cha: Again, there’s no one he’s really close to. He cares about his hive and sends supplies to them. The person he’s closest to is Jule, and she’s probably the closest thing to platonic love he has.

Vra’ath: The friends he’s made on the Fairlight probably. He’s closest to Captain Aalmash (who he deeply respects), Cherish, and Quiet Storm. They’re probably the ones he loves most platonically.

Dahlia: Dahlia deeply loves all of her friends and family! She cares so deeply and intensely for all of them. But I’d say she probably has the strongest connection to @zetchrr Ka’zalii. Those two are platonic soulmates!

What spice would they be?

Tik-cha: Salt

Vra’ath: Cayenne pepper

Dahlia: Cinnamon

Thanks for asking!! ❤️

[thecurioustale]

you ever had a character that you originally conceptualized as one gender but when it came time to actually execute the idea and put them on the page you decided to switch their gender? If so why?

Yeah, actually! I have resexed, gender-bent, and transed quite a number of characters over the years.

Resexing is the most common for me. I've resexed a ton of originally-male characters in ATH because the legacy cast was so male-heavy. (Most of the cast members played nearly or entirely exclusively male characters, and more than half of my own characters were male too.) Some of these were part of from-the-ground-up character reimaginings, like Afiach Bard. More were direct resexings, though off the top of my groggy head I can't think of any that you would know about. But there were quite a lot of them!

Resexings have mostly happened to legacy characters from long ago as part of sex-balancing the cast, and I think these have been entirely male-to-female. But it also happens in modern times in potentially all of my work and with more of a mix of mtf and ftm. There are two main reasons for this: First, I sometimes catch myself in a gendered trope with a character. This is especially common with male characters, who, within our social norms and awareness, are allowed to inhabit a much broader personality and professional space. Sometimes I'll swap one of these characters to being female. (I will also sometimes adapt an existing female character into the role, or create a new female character for the role.) Second, sometimes our cultural associations will problematize a sexual relationship, and I will swap a side character's sex in order to avoid having to "deal" with that problematization in the text. This came up a couple times in Cherry's polyamorous and open relationship behavior, for example, where I changed the sex of a couple of her casual partners (not her spouses).

It's less interesting than maybe it sounds. It's really just me trying to avoid sociocultural mines when I don't feel like defusing (or exploding!) them in the text (in the second case), and me trying to avoid reinforcing gender stereotypes when I don't have to or may have been on course to do so unintentionally (in the first case).

To skip to the third category, making a character transgender, you can of course group these together with the first category in some ways, but in terms of the experiences of living in a body of the wrong sex and being perceived by society as the wrong sex and/or gender, I tend to think of transgendering characters separately from resexing them. This is the category that I've done the least of, as most of my trans characters are conceived as such from the get-go. (Although perhaps there is an argument to be made that transing an existing character is more authentic to the experience of coming out.) In fact there is only one prominent example of transing an existing character that comes to mind for me as explicit in the text, although it is common for me to put so little focus on the gender of my characters that the reader may plausibly construe many characters' gender any which way. But the prominent example I mentioned is a mechanic character named Iyus living in Soda Fountain, who was male for the longest time but who I transed a few years back because I realized that, first, I hadn't done that to an existing character yet and I should probably learn how, and, second, this character was a perfect fit for being transgender, as she comes from a very strict and proud Davoranjan family and is just a total mismatch for it, and that was true even when she was a male character. Moving to the hedonistic big city made it possible for her to recognize her gender identity and inhabit it openly. In contrast, in many Relancii societies, a character may well be trans by our modern analytical terms but wouldn't really have a straightforward chance to express that openly or explore what it's like. (Not that it doesn't happen; it does, just like it has always happened in the real world; but I suppose it's a premise I haven't tackled in the spotlight, yet.)

The second category, gender-bending, is really just a superset of the third, encompassing other things I've done to my characters' gender identities. Because I detest gender and have such a hard time writing it authentically, I sometimes find myself feeling the urge to actually "try harder" to write a character who is more heavily, explicitly gendered. This can mean tapping into the gender binary more strongly, i.e. to make characters who are more "manly men" males and "girly girl" females, or it can mean queering them up, like making previously unspecified, straight-ish characters explicitly queer (e.g. genderfluid). I don't think I'm very good at this, and I don't really enjoy it either (despite being agender myself; probably because I think of non-genderedness as the default and trying to characterize it is therefore unnatural for me), so I don't do it often, but it does come up more often than just transing characters, because I am sensitive to the potential criticism that "all my characters are agender" or whatever, so I try to provide at least a nominal preemption of that objection. It is also something I feel is necessary to an extent insofar as my pursuit of realism is concerned.

There is one character whom I've really enjoyed gender-bending, though: A character you haven't met yet, or probably heard of, whose physical sex is unclear in the text (at least for a good long while) and who has a very tortured relationship with their gender identity and with their perception of gender, gender roles, and "women" in particular. This character has felt much more authentic for me to write, which is something I have struggled with when venturing into the explicit gendering of personalities, behavior, and identity affiliations. Perhaps it is because their sex and gender are relevant to the plot and they have reasons for feeling the way they feel.

I've also had a fairly good time trying to more specifically gender Cherry's spouse Zoë. Zoë is definitely a more feminine main character than I usually attempt to write, although I wouldn't call her a "girly girl," to hearken back to my previous language. The main challenge for me with gendering characters is that, to me, "gendering" is the same as "stereotyping," so I have to be really deliberate about my choices and expressions. And, for whatever reasons, I've been enjoying that challenge with Zoë.

I've been trying to think of a question to ask you for a couple of weeks, Fip! I even had one written in your ask box last night, but I decided not to ask it. Lol, now you've beaten me to the punch! Thanks for the question. What do you think about all this and about efforts by authors to mess around in the sex and gender space of their characters, and of specifically non-trans authors writing transgender characters?

[falllpoutboy]

Everything this tweet says makes me proud of them.

https://x.com/effoff1988/status/1922859651332198481?t=c3uwSBRvrP_-3jYWjdSj2A&s=19

We can sit down and talk for a minute about the impact of both of them. It's just the fact that they star in the same series and both won the GG, CC, SAG, and Emmy Awards in the same year. And now, life or destiny, I don't know which, but what a beautiful coincidence that they're separating their own ways to star in different films and now they're both possible Oscar candidates again in the same year. I won't talk about winning because this year promises to be fierce, but the simple fact of being nominated for an Oscar for the first time is already something great for them. I won't deny that I literally laughed at the person who said, like, six months ago or more, that they could both be nominated for an Oscar for ATH and DMFN because I saw that scenario very unlikely to happen. That person truly had the vision. For me, this event is very special. Now let's imagine for a moment what it must be like for them. 🥺🥺

I want to say something, and someone correct me if I'm wrong, but this is the first time something like this has happened. I'm talking about two leading stars of the same show had swept the television awards season and are now candidates to sweep the film awards season in the same year. I mean, the person who quote this tweet with lock is right. They are unreachable levels of soulmates.

the levels of soulmatism/twin flames keeps getting higher between them and it’s kind of crazy to watch it all go down after all these years 😭😭😭

[thecatcrew]

sorry if this has been asked before but what’s the story of how you got your cats??

Nooo you’re fine, I don’t mind repeated questions at all (even though I don’t think this is one). I just love when y’all ask me questions about our babies in general 🤭😸 (this might be long, but imma TRY to not make it be lol)

Buttercup: We got Buttercup from our local shelter back in summer 2011, she is my brother’s first cat. That is also when I got my first kitten Nella, but sadly she became an angel kitty behind our living room tv one day. She was so young, and i didn’t even have her for a month, we don’t even know how it happened. But since I loss my kitty, we went back to the shelter that summer and that’s when I got my baby Nyla.

Nyla: I gave Nyla her name, because I wanted her to have a similar name to Nella to always remember her. Now what’s funny is while I was thinking of a name for her I thought about one of my favorite animated characters Nala from Lion King, but at the time I thought her name was spelled N-Y-L-A, so for the longest time I’ve been both pronouncing and spelling her name wrong. But it was too late to change Nyla’s name, plus I still love the name Nyla so it is what it is lol. Anyways, we also at that time got another cat names Nick and that was Nyla’s brother. Nyla is my cat, Nick was my mom’s cat (not her first, she’s had several in her life), however he became an angel baby too, because my little brother put some carpet powder on the ground (we forgot to tell him to throw that away once we got cats, we honestly forgot he had it) and he ate it. Ever since then Nyla has had anxiety and she really loves being around me and cuddling with me only, she feels 1,000% safe around me and i love that because she’s my angel rainbow gumdrop sunshine 🥰🥰🥰

Egypt & Cleopatra: So for like 12 years we’ve only had two cats, then one day in 2022, my sister decides to adopt two kittens for her children and they named them Solar (Cleopatra) & Galaxy (Egypt), but long story short, one of them turned out to be allergic to cats, so my sister called us and asked us if we wanted them so they didn’t have to take them back to the shelter & my mom said yes (we were super happy) so we got them & honestly we were not feeling their original names, so my mom looked at them and was like “Their faces look more structured than our other cats, they look…Egyptian.” & that’s how we got Egypt & Cleopatra.

Sylvester: So now I have 2 cats, my brother has one & my mom has one. My brother wants another cat. So we tried to rescue a kitty from outside, but long story short it was already sick and became an angel cat the next day. My brother was super sad, so a couple days later we went to our local shelter again to get him another cat, at first we were gonna get him a kitty, but every one he kept picking the shelter was like “oh they’re actually too small to be adopted right now.” So we left the kitten section and went to the cat section and that’s where he saw Sylvester and he fell in love. I think this was back in November 2023. We love Sylvester so much. Ngl to y’all, I’ve gotten very attached to Sylvester, i wish he was my cat. Everybody in the house got a boy cat except me, I told my brother he gotta share Sylvester until i get a boy cat lmaoooo

Mittens: Mittens is the only cat we have that wasn’t adopted, we rescued her from outside. She was sick and on the brick of d*ath. I said we but it’s really my mom that saved her life. She saved up enough money to finally take her to the vet, she was less than a pound, but she was a fighter. We got her some medicine and now she’s completely healthy! I thought my mom rescued her for her, but she let me have her, so now I have three beautiful girls.

That’s pretty much it, if you guys have anymore questions about our cats, please feel free to hit up our inbox😸🫶🏽✨

[valenschmidt]

It is annoying to see a lot of people are suddenly fine with ryliver after hating on those who liked it for so long. I wonder if it's partly because ryan was still in a serious relationship with his kids' mother until recently?? Like people thought it was morally wrong to ship a married(?) father with another man?

Although oliver still has a gf now, but maybe people don't care as much because they're not married/don't have kids together?

And probably before there wasn't enough cute bts ryliver content to fuel the shipping except for really keen shippers?

I really hope people don't start tinhatting over it where ryliver can see 😬 maybe they already are...

Hi Anon!!! Sorry it took me too long to answer I was working

Honestly it could be for many reasons...

First Ryan (up until a couple of months ago was public enemy number one) people still hadn't forgiven him for what happened in 2020 so shipping Oliver with a man they hated was not something they were gonna do. When bt started being awful to Ryan (sending d*ath threats, wishing he would off himself, calling him names, etc.) Many buddies who despised him started actually defending him, which made a lot start to rethink their opinions of him...

Also yes there is a LOT more content that there used to be back then but there actually was some content during s7 and yet people were still canceling you if you shipped them (I can vouch for that) so no I don't think it's the lack of content.

Also to clarify... Oliver is actually single. He confirmed it back in June during a live instagram interview (which I can't remember with whom it was) and Ryan is also currently divorced/separated so the fact that both of them are single probably contributed a lot.

So in my opinion it could be from that but mostly because (and I should thank them for this) bt insulting and being awful to Ryan make a LOT of people who hated him starting to like him again and in a very small way (and this is just a hypothesis on my part) this happens quite a lot when ships are about to go canon. People start projecting the ship onto the actors, especially when chemistry is REALLY huge

Hope this helped!

[levithestripper]

Patience Is a Virtue

summary:

stuck in winchester due to a quicker-than-usual winter and confined inside king ecbert’s castle with nothing to do, ragnar finds himself trailing behind athelstan, being strung along to god knows where. but his little priest promises it's worth it, and ragnar makes good on athelstan’s promise.

warnings: fluff, smut, porn with a sprinkling of plot, corruption kink, god complex, church sex, oral sex, semi-public sex (?), religious imagery and guilt, degradation kink, praise kink, aftercare.

length: 7.6k || read on ao3 || join my taglist

a/n: born of a thought i had with @grantairescurls :) the brainworms consumed me while writing this and i somehow managed to finish it before the new year. ending the past two years with an athelnar fic may become a tradition around here who knows. ANYWAYS i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did while writing it. doubles as day 16 of my three year old kinktober series i'm struggling to finish lmfao.

Winchester is a fascinating place. The landscape is similar enough to Norway’s, albeit missing the country’s magnificent mountains and rolling hills that Ragnar has somehow grown bored of. It has grown even closer in similarity these last few months, with winter bringing heavy snowstorms, covering the courtyard in fluffy white snow that glitters in the cold sunlight.

Free of King Ecbert’s all-knowing gaze, he walks beside Athelstan, eagerly waiting to see where his priest is leading him. But he’s known for being impatient, voicing his restlessness to Athelstan, a man who has enough patience for the both of them. “Where are you taking me, little priest?” Ragnar asks, trying to push the right buttons to irritate him, but it fails. 

“Patience is a virtue, Ragnar,” he replies, a knowing look on his face.

Ragnar rolls his eyes with a dramatic groan, earning himself a quiet chuckle from his friend. “Well, are we close, at least?” 

Athelstan doesn’t answer him on purpose, knowing it’ll annoy him further. Before Ragnar can continue to complain, Athelstan announces they’ve arrived at their destination. “We’re here.”

They stand in front of two giant wooden doors at the end of the long cobblestone hallway they found themselves in. The black metal handles make it look like the entrance to a dungeon. 

Ragnar looks at Athelstan with confusion. Ath must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere! Ath surely can’t be serious when he says this is what he is so eager to show him! “Didn’t realize you’re a comedian, Athelstan,” he smirks. “Come on, where are we going, truthfully?”

Athelstan turns to meet his gaze, unaffected by Ragnar’s cockiness, far too used to him and his shenanigans. “I told you, patience is a virtue.” He leaves Ragnar’s side, walking up two pointless steps, and takes hold of the cold metal handles, pulling both doors open in a grand reveal of what lay behind. Light flooded the dark hallway, causing Ragnar to raise a shielding hand to his brow. 

Through squinted eyes, what he sees takes his breath away. Larger-than-life stained glass windows filter the massive amount of winter sunlight into a rainbow of colors across the beautiful stone floors. Despite the colorful sunlight, the room is still relatively dark. The ceiling is taller than the hallways’, at least three stories worth of height between the two, the top coming together at a point. Hanging from the pointed ceiling is a fancy—and expensive-looking—candlelit chandelier, adding to the specific atmosphere in the room that Ragnar can’t find a descriptor name for. In the center of the room is a marble statue depicting what appears to be a stable of some kind. The wall behind the statue hangs a large wooden cross with a bronze man nailed to it. 

“This is what I wanted to show you.” Athelstan looks as if he is in his God’s heaven. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ragnar slowly trails behind him, head craning back to absorb everything before him. “Is this what you talk so much of back home? What is it called…” he mumbles under his breath, searching for the word in English. “A… church?”

Athelstan smiles at the effort Ragnar is putting towards getting the correct answer all on his own. “Close. A chapel,” he says in Norse, then repeats the new word in English.

He nods, trying to commit the phrase to memory. “What is the difference?” he asks, returning to Norse. 

“A chapel is a place for private prayers, while a church is for congregations led by a priest.” Ath lets Ragnar take his hand within his callused one, keeping him close. 

The Vikingr’s eyes light up at the mention of a priest. Finally, something he knew something about! “A priest? A priest like mine?” 

Ragnar’s words cause a red dust to bloom across Athelstan’s cheeks. “I’m not a priest, Ragnar.” 

He shrugs. “They’re basically the same thing.” Ragnar turns and points at the marbled statue in the center of the room. “What is that? It’s not like anything you’ve told me about.”

Athelstan looks to where he is pointing and pulls Ragnar towards it with the hand the Vikingr still held onto. “This is a nativity scene!” 

He looks at him with a confused expression, suddenly lost again. “A nativity scene? What is a nativity?” Ragnar asks, the English word feeling foreign and unnatural on his tongue.

He gnaws on his thick bottom lip as he mulls over the easiest way to explain it in Norse. He sighs. “A nativity is the place of someone’s birth. And a nativity scene is a depiction of that.” Ragnar circles the statue, looking at it from every angle imaginable as if he were sizing an opponent up for a fight. He crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his elbow into the meat of his forearm, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. 

“Why?”

It’s Athelstan’s turn to feel puzzled now. “What?”

“You heard me, Ath. Why? What is the point?” 

Ath moves to stand beside him. “It’s a recreation of the birth of our Savior.”

Ragnar interrupts him. “Our savior?” he questions, voice full of snark.

“Shut it and listen,” he smacks his bicep. “It’s how the faith celebrates the birth of the son of God all year round. Every year around this time, churches will put together beautiful masses to commemorate the birth of Jesus. It’s an important symbol in the religion, making the Lord tangible for all the world. Etching it into stone makes it permanent, ensuring parishioners never forget that He was once a helpless babe like they were.” 

He doesn’t respond immediately, absorbing Athelstan’s words and attempting to understand them to the best of his abilities. “God’s son?” Ragnar squats in front of the marble baby. The stone infant slept in a pile of straw compiled within a trough, surrounded by who Ragnar assumed were his parents and extended family. Ragnar trails his finger across the babe’s cold forehead, feeling the finely chiseled details against his skin. “Is this the eldest son?”

Athelstan sits cross-cross next to him, nodding.

“Like Thor?”

Ath makes a face. “I suppose so.”

“Who are your god’s other children? Why are they not here?” Ragnar shifts to sit as well. “Why dishonor his other children this way?”

“Jesus is God’s only son.”

Ragnar chuckles. “Your god must be stupid, then. Betting everything on one son, only for him to die before having sons of his own.”

“Everything was a part of His plan, making Jesus’ death far from stupid,” Ath counters, leaning against Ragnar’s shoulder. 

The Vikingr sighs deeply. “Do you worship him still? This Jesus.”

Athelstan shrugs. “I see the Lord in the blooming of spring flowers, but I hear Thor in my ears when I run into battle beside you. I feel the Lord in the summertime breeze, but I pray to Freyja to protect my norse sisters when they enter motherhood.”

“You’re a confusing man, Athelstan. No matter how much I learn about you, you never fail to reveal something I’m incapable of understanding.” Ragnar’s words earn him a giggle from the man beside him. 

Ath turns his head, his chin digging into the soft tissue in Ragnar’s shoulder. “You’d be bored if I were any different.” Ragnar’s silence is telling, confirming Athelstan’s statement as correct. 

Ragnar doesn’t stay silent for long. He never is quiet for long, always spouting the first thing that comes to mind. “Why is there no table?”

“Table?” Ath questions. 

“The table!” he repeats as if that would clarify it. He gestures with his hands, trying to visualize the image in his head by drawing it in the air. “The table the priest hides behind!”

Ragnar’s words finally clicked inside Ath’s head. “Oh! You mean the altar?” He nods. “Chapels don’t have altars since they’re designed for individual prayer.”

“That’s a shame,” he says with a coy smirk, a devious glint in his icy-blue eyes.

Athelstan raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh, yeah? Now, why is that?” Ragnar invades Ath’s personal space, noses just barely touching. It doesn’t startle him in the slightest, having grown quite used to it in the past handful of years being Ragnar’s partner.

Teasingly, he licks the tip of Ath’s nose. He leans in, whispering hotly in his ear. “If there were a table,” Ragnar refuses to call it by its proper name, purposely to irk him, “I could bend you over and fuck you on it.” He finishes with a sultry drag of his tongue up the shell of Athelstan’s ear, biting the lobe when the younger man shudders underneath him.

Athelstan’s expression looks as if he can’t decide between being aroused or being appalled. “Ragnar!”

“What, little priest? Does the idea of fucking on your god’s table make you uncomfortable?” Ragnar slides a rough hand over one of Athelstan’s thighs. “Or does the thought of defiling your Lord’s precious altar fill you with an embarrassing feeling of desire?” Ragnar’s words are hot against his ear, drawing another shudder from him.

“Ragnar!” Athelstan exclaims, his face a bright shade of red. 

His smirk broadens as he drinks in Ath’s reaction. “Hm? Did I strike a nerve in you, my love?” Ragnar goads, teasing his hand further up Athelstan’s inner thigh, fingertips sending tingles straight to Ath’s slowly hardening cock. “Maybe I should take you right here instead, take you apart piece by piece in front of your beloved stone nativity.”

Athelstan grasps his wrist, halting his hand from edging along any further. “We can’t—I can’t. Not here.” 

“Then explain why your cock is telling me a different story, my love,” he hums, breaking free of Athelstan’s hold to cup the man’s groin in his palm. Ragnar feels his own cock twitch against his thigh. “Let me show your god exactly how I worship you.” Ragnar closes the barely-there gap between them, lips pressing against his messily, hungrily. Athelstan practically melts under his ministrations, just like always. He grips Ragnar’s wrist again, trying to keep himself grounded, or else he feels as if he might float away. 

“Ragnar, we can’t, it’s wrong!” Athelstan isn’t sure if he’s saying it to convince himself or Ragnar. Maybe both. When he’s kissing him, he can’t be sure of much. “Seriously,” Ragnar kisses him again. “We shouldn’t—” Another kiss. “We can’t!” Another kiss, this one sloppier than the rest.

Ragnar mocks him teasingly. “We can’t! We shouldn’t! It’s wrong! You should give me a real reason, little priest.” He moves to kiss down Ath’s neck, sucking on the spot he knows will make the man whimper and shiver. “Don’t try and hide how badly you want this. You know I can see right through your little disguise, sweetheart.” Ragnar squeezes Ath’s quickly thickening cock, pulling sweet, embarrassing noises from him. Athelstan’s resolve is quickly deteriorating, much to Ragnar’s pleasure.

“This is no fair; you’re no fair, Ragnar,” Ath complains, forgetting to add malice to his insult. His blush has spread down the column of his neck, making Ragnar want to suck pretty purple bruises into the soft skin there. Ragnar’s quick to act on his impulses, leaving an impossible-to-hide bruise in his wake. “What—What if someone walks in?” Ath manages to stutter out.

He chuckles darkly, the sound reverberating in his chest. “So what?” he snickers, kissing a line down Ath’s neck, roughly tugging on the neckline of his tunic so he can continue along his shoulder. “Who cares if someone finds us. It wouldn’t stop me.” Quickly finding the blue fabric irritating, Ragnar pulls it over Ath’s head and tosses it behind them without a care. Taking off his own shit as well, Ragnar pushes him to lie on his back, shoving his tunic underneath Ath’s head as a makeshift pillow. “So what if your beloved god watches me fuck you? He should be honored to watch one of his creations be so thoroughly taken care of,” he hums, his words sending another wave of sparks through Athelstan’s body.

Athelstan doesn’t have a response for him. And even if he did, he doesn’t think he’d be capable of speaking without stumbling over every word. So he stays silent to keep from embarrassing himself further. The lack of any comeback made Ragnar grin maliciously.

“Not talking, my little priest?” he asks coyly. “Now, now, why could that be? I know you’re good with your words.” As Ragnar speaks, his deft fingers quickly begin unlacing Athelstan’s trousers. “Perhaps,” he licks his lips enticingly, his grin morphing into a familiar cocky smirk, “perhaps you want me to turn you into a dirty little sinner. Maybe you just don’t wanna admit how hard the thought of defiling your beloved god’s house makes you. ‘Cause then,” Ragnar leans down to whisper in his ear, his breath hot against his lover’s skin, “you’d be a filthy heathen like me.”

All of the willpower Athelstan had mustered up ‘till down crumbles around him at Ragnar’s words, the thought alone making his pretty pale blue eyes roll backward in his skull. “Fuck, Ragnar,” he groans, his voice shaking as if he might start crying any minute. “Fuck it, fuck everything, fuck God—I need you right now!” Ath exclaims, wiggling out of his trousers and kicking them away. He fumbles with the ties on Ragnar’s pants, desperately trying to push them down his thick, muscled thighs.

Ragnar cheekily nips at the shell of his ear before helping Athelstan relieve him of his pants, leaving the pair in just their undergarments. “Didn’t hold out for as long as I thought you would, sweetheart. Are you that desperate for me to defile you? To ruin you in front of your god?” Ragnar kisses down his sternum, laving his tongue over the sparse freckles he found dotted across his lover’s chest. He teases his fingertips along the waistband of Athelstan’s underwear. “Is that right, Athelstan?” 

Instead of words, Ath whines pathetically, embarrassment flooding his senses. He felt his cock throb and leak beads of pre at the sound of Ragnar saying his name in such a lustful, inappropriate manner. “How long do you truly expect me to hold out for when you seduce me like this?” He unties Ragnar’s ponytail but leaves the braided sections alone, running his fingers through his now mostly loose locks. “You should leave your hair down more often.”

“Only if you promise to pull on it,” he says with a smirk, earning himself a deserved smack on the shoulder. With a giggle, Ragnar unceremoniously tugs down Ath’s underwear, watching intently as his cock slaps against his lover’s toned abdomen. Laying between Ath’s now spread legs, he mouths over his jutting hipbones, kissing everywhere but where Athelstan so desperately wishes he would. Ragnar lifts Athelstan’s legs to rest on his broad shoulders as his rough, weathered hands wrap around his thick, supple thighs, keeping him from squirming away. Nipping at his inner thigh with his teeth, Ragnar slowly makes his way down to Ath’s groin, littering small kisses as he goes. 

Slowly regaining his confidence, Athelstan teases him right back, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Starting to think your bark is worse than your bite, Ragnar.”

He cocks an eyebrow at him. “Oh? How so?”

“You’re going so slow it’s almost like you’ve got cold feet or something,” Athelstan smirks, egging him on.

Ragnar returns his gaze with sharp eyes, telling Ath everything he needs to know with just one look. If he wasn’t before, he’s sure in for it now. Ungentle hands spread the globes of Athelstan’s ass apart. The rush of cool air to the newly exposed skin makes his whole body shiver with anticipation. Ragnar licks a hot, thick stripe from Ath’s hole to just below his balls, drawing an unexpected yelp from him. The yelp soon turns to moans as Ragnar continues, each lap of his tongue sending his nerve endings into overdrive. Slowly working his hole loose, Ragnar slides a free hand up Athelstan’s chest, stopping when they reach his red, bite-swollen lips. “Go on, pretty boy, make them nice’n wet for me.”

He wastes no time, opening his mouth for two of Ragnar’s fingers, sucking on them fervently. Ath licks them from base to tip, acting as if they were his cock and not mere fingers. Once Ragnar deems them wet enough, he pulls them from Athelstan’s lips, a string of spit connecting them briefly before it breaks, now sticking to Ath’s chin instead. “Good job,” Ragnar hums, sliding his spit-slick fingers down Athelstan’s taint and over his entrance. “Do you feel your god? Can you feel him watching us? Watching you?” he taunts with a click of his tongue. Ragnar presses the pads of his fingers against his entrance, threatening to sink inside but never following through with it. 

Athelstan nods, embarrassment bubbling to the surface once more. 

“I don’t think he’ll still be your god after this, little priest,” he licks over his top teeth with a gross wet sound. “I think I’ll be your god instead.” With that, Ragnar presses two fingers inside him, and Athelstan’s jaw drops in a silent scream. The sudden stretch burns slightly, but he likes a little side dish of pain with his pleasure. 

Ragnar sits up, folding his legs underneath him. Athelstan’s legs are still propped up on Ragnar’s shoulders, stretching to stay up there as he moves. He unhurriedly thrusts his digits in and out of Ath’s tight hole, watching smugly as a lewd expression spreads across his lover’s face. Using his free hand, Ragnar holds Athelstan’s left leg steady, peppering light kisses along his meaty calf. 

“You can—fuck—you can add another finger; please add another finger,” he begs, fighting to keep his eyes open and focused on Ragnar. 

He chuckles, but it sounds like it came from the Vikingr’s chest instead of his throat. “What if I don’t?” The pads of his fingers just barely brush against Ath’s sweet spot, enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. “Weren’t you the one just lecturing me about how patience is a virtue?”

Athelstan huffs in frustration, mildly upset that his words were successfully being used against him. He chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on the first question posed to him instead. “I’d be upset.” He looks up at him with a devilish gaze as if he were daring Ragnar to go through with his threat. They both knew he wouldn’t. Ragnar enjoys taking him apart far too much to deprive him of it just to fulfill an empty threat. 

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we? A God has to keep his subjects happy, after all.” Ragnar slips out of him, wetting his ring finger with his own spit before pressing all three inside. Athelstan blesses his ears with a moan that sounds almost as pretty as he looks. “There we go,” Ragnar mumbles, spreading his fingers apart methodically, occasionally curling them against Ath’s sweet spot. After a few minutes, he deems Athelstan’s hole to be loose enough and pulls out, his knuckles glistening with a combination of their spit. Ragnar removes Athelstan’s legs from their home on his shoulders, motioning for him to sit up.

Quick to obey, he braces himself on the heels of his hands. Ragnar meets him the rest of the way, bending over slightly to kiss him. It’s sweeter than their previous kisses, but it’s not that way for long, Athelstan taking the lead and licking into Ragnar’s eager mouth, turning the sweet kiss into a sloppy makeout. Athelstan anchors his hands in Ragnar’s hair, tugging on it harshly, earning himself a low grumble from the older man. “Let me suck you off, love?” Ath whispers, lightly dragging his teeth down Ragnar’s neck.

He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest handsomely. “Like you need to ask.”

Athelstan wastes no time swapping positions, pulling Ragnar’s underwear down before settling between the man’s spread thighs. He doesn’t beat around the bush, far too eager to get his mouth around Ragnar’s thick cock. Laying down on the cold stone floor, Athelstan presses his face against the crease where Ragnar’s inner thigh meets his pelvis. Breathing in his scent, he lifts his head up and kisses the tip, licking a bead of pre-come off and swallowing. Holding Ragnar’s gaze, Athelstan slowly took him into his hot, wet mouth. Unable to keep his head up, Ragnar closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of Ath’s lips around him. 

“Didn’t know you had such a sinful little mouth, Ath,” Ragnar groans out, putting all his effort towards not fucking his lover’s throat ‘till he can’t speak correctly.

He simply hums around him, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his core. Sinking down to the base, Athelstan chokes slightly when the tip hits the back of his throat. He gradually quickens the pace as he loosens his jaw, allowing for more of Ragnar’s cock to fit down his throat. Returning the favor, Ragnar yanks on Ath’s dark brown curls, keeping him from pulling off for a few seconds. Spit and drool drip from the base of his cock and down his heavy ballsack, eventually pooling on the gray stone beneath them. Ath’s chin is also slick with spit, his beard damp and curling even more due to the moisture. 

With each bob of his head, the room echoes with sounds of him slurping and the occasional gag. One would think Athelstan had no idea he was in a church based on how he was acting, slobbering around a heathen’s cock as if it were what he was put on this Earth to do. He tongues the thick vein running along the underside of Ragnar’s cock, drawing a strangled moan from the man. Ath does it again before moving upwards, focusing all his attention on the overly sensitive head. He teases the slit he finds there, eagerly lapping up all the pre-come that had begun to dribble out. The action causes Ragnar’s cock to throb and his leg to twitch, and he’s quick to tug on Athelstan’s hair again, a silent warning that he’s close. Noticing this, he promptly pulls off with a wet pop sound. His chest heaves as he quickly tries to catch his breath.

Somehow, Ragnar looks in worse shape than Athelstan does, long hair matted against his sweaty forehead, his cock a deep shade of red and oozing pre-come. The perfect depiction of Satan’s temptations laid out in front of him, just begging for Athelstan to come and take a bite. He doesn’t think twice about going against his Lord’s wishes or what it would mean for his soul, far too enraptured in the delicious spread before him to care about some pretty garden his Lord had to offer when he could have Ragnar Lothbrok instead. Not even the King of Kings can win a fight against the King of the Northman. Ragnar beats everything his Holy Father offers him with little effort. Athelstan looks him up and down, drinking in the sight of him as if he were about to devour him whole.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Athelstan shuffles on his knees to straddle Ragnar’s hips, his cock bobbing enticingly in front of Ragnar’s face. The Vikingr gazes up at Athestan, taking in the beauty before him. His rough hands grab greedily at supple hips, thumbs meeting at a belly button surrounded by a thick trail of coarse hair. Ragnar feels Ath’s hungry eyes on him, an unneeded boost to his severely overblown ego. “You look good enough to eat, my love,” he digs his teeth into his bottom lip, returning Ath’s hungry gaze with one of his own.

“Good enough for a God?” Athelstan asks, voice dripping with lust.

Ragnar pretends to contemplate the question as he rolls his hips upwards to grind against Athelstan’s. “Depends on what His sinful little disciple can offer Him.”

Licking his lips, Ath splays his hands over Ragnar’s chest, tracing over long healed scars with his fingertips. “He can devote his life in service to Him.” Athelstan can’t articulate why, but speaking of himself in the third person like this stirs something within him that makes a pleasurable heat pool in his abdomen. “Devote himself to loving Him, serving Him, obeying Him.” He leans down as he speaks, slowly coming nose-to-nose with Ragnar. Athelstan shifts further down Ragnar’s abdomen, ass now nestled just above Ragnar’s cock. “Would He like that?”

Ragnar’s mouth curls in a devilish grin, grinding against his plush ass. “He’d have to renounce his previous Lord. This God doesn’t like to share with others.”

He kisses the edge of Ragnar’s mouth, knowing how it drives him mad. “Will his new Lord take care of him for eternity?” Ragnar turns Ath’s head to face him properly, his pointer and middle fingers holding his chin as he captures Ath’s lips in a heated kiss. The passion within his embrace serves as Ragnar’s answer, something Athelstan effortlessly picks up on. 

Ragnar pulls away enough to whisper against his lips, switching back to first-person language, his brain too addled with lust to adequately phrase sentences that way for any longer. “How about you make yourself nice’n pretty for your new God?”

“How does He want me?” Athelstan nips at Ragnar’s ear before kissing it, almost like an apology for biting him.

“On all fours, face down,” he slaps Ath’s ass, and Athelstan yelps in surprise, “ass up like you’re praying.” Athelstan gets off of him, but not without a furious red blush flooding from his cheeks to color his pale chest beautifully. Sitting up, he watches how quick Ath is to obey his request. It merely fuels the flames of Ragnar’s ego, making him even more eager to take Athelstan apart piece by piece and put him back together in his own image.

Ath makes a show of bending over, swaying his hips as he goes, and arching his back, making him the picture of temptation. “Like this?” he asks innocently, spreading his legs and looking over his shoulder at him, resting his weight on his forearms. 

Ragnar settles behind him, shamelessly running his hands over the globes of Athelstan’s ass. “Mmhm, just like this. Such a sinful little worshiper you are. Defiling your previous Lord’s house, throwing away your chance for holiness without a second thought.” Ragnar fists his cock, spitting on it to get it wet again. He taps it against Athelstan’s still loose hole, watching it clench desperately around nothing. 

Athelstan’s cock throbs pathetically at Ragnar’s words, sending a whole body shiver through him. He presses his ass into Ragnar’s hands, silently pleading for Ragnar to bury himself deep inside. All it accomplishes, however, is getting the Vikingr to smack his thick cock against him again. 

“I think,” he hums, pausing solely to draw out Ath’s torment, “you should beg your abandoned Lord for forgiveness.” Ragnar presses his cockhead against Athelstan’s entrance, barely dipping inside before retreating. “You are sinning in his house, after all.” Athelstan gasps at his proposition, and Ragnar takes advantage of his lover’s shock, deciding it to be the perfect opportunity to push inside him. He bullies his way inside, not stopping to give Ath time to adjust until his balls are pressed against Ath’s thighs.

“Ragnar!” he yelps, the sudden intrusion knocking the breath from his lungs. On top of having been a while since they last laid together, Ragnar’s cock is far thicker than the three fingers he prepared him with, so there’s a slight burn in the stretch as he bottoms out. “Fuck, you’re so stupidly big!” Ath whines, gripping the makeshift pillow in an attempt to stay grounded. 

He tsks at him. “That’s no way to talk to your Lord, Athelstan. Don’t you think?” Without waiting for a response, Ragnar pulls out nearly all the way, leaving just the tip. He grips Athelstan’s hips roughly, the pads of his fingers squeezing the soft, unmarred skin there.

He panics at the sudden empty feeling, immediately backtracking, determined to be a good boy for Ragnar. “No,” he choked on his words, his brain moving faster than his mouth could keep up with. “No, it’s not; please forgive me!”

“I’m not who you should be apologizing to, remember?” Ragnar goads as he sinks back inside at a gruelingly slow pace. “Or should I pull out to help jog your memory?” Keeping one hand on Ath’s hip, Ragnar sinks his right hand in Ath’s dark brown curls, tugging his head up to force him to look at the cross directly behind the nativity scene before them. “You tell me stories of how Jesus died for your sins, only for you to shame him by sinning in his chapel.”

Athelstan whimpers and whines, shamelessly canting his hips back on Ragnar’s cock. “Please don’t pull out,” he begs, sniffling. Despite how he sounds, Athelstan doesn’t think he’s ever been this aroused in all his thirty-five years of life. Made to gaze upon the man he had once dedicated his life to serving, on his knees in mock prayer, but it wasn’t Jesus he was praying to this time. It looks unlikely he’ll ever pray to the Heavenly Father or His son again after this, having found something much sweeter and far more rewarding. Something more real to Athelstan than the figure on the wall or the marble Blessed Virgin Mother in front of him ever will be.

The unmistakable sound of Ragnar snarking breaks him out of his thoughts. He’s remained unmoving since bottoming out a second time, providing a deep-seated, pleasurable pressure within Ath’s abdomen. “I’m not above using you as my own personal cockwarmer until you start begging, darling,” he threatens, only this time Athelstan knows it’s not an empty one. 

Unfortunately, Athelstan’s bratted too close to the sun more often than he cares to admit. This might end up one of those times if he doesn’t play his cards correctly. “What do you want me to beg for, Ragnar?” he questions cheekily, playing dumb, knowing exactly how to get the reaction he wants from Ragnar. 

Ragnar yanks on his hair as a warning. “You’ve been good up ‘till now, little priest,” his deep voice rumbles low in his throat, words sticky with pent-up desire, the little self-control he has left quickly deteriorating with every passing minute. “I wouldn’t go fucking it up now if I were you.” He emphasizes it with a slow, punishing roll of his hips, cockhead brushing against Athelstan’s sweet spot. “But if you don’t want me to fuck you after all, keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

The moan Ath lets out is utterly sinful, and Ragnar hasn’t begun to fuck him in earnest yet. He briefly debates his options, but it wasn’t a hard decision. Solidifying his gaze on the nailed God before him, Athelstan began to pray for the Lord’s forgiveness. “Lord, I seek Your forgiveness and healing. Help me to release the weight of the guilt and shame that I carry.”

“Aww, there we go, little priest. Beg to your nailed god,” Ragnar taunts. He pulls out again and truly starts to fuck him now, thrusting into him quickly. The hand on Ath’s hip squeezes tightly, sure to leave bruises later. Ragnar tugs Athelstan’s hips back on each thrust he gives. The chapel echoes with sounds of skin slapping against skin and Athelstan’s choked, moaned prayers. Sweat slides down the ridges of Ath’s spine and pools in the divots at the end of his tailbone. “Imagine how disappointed he must be in you, Athelstan,” he says with a yank of his hair. He drapes himself across Ath’s back so he can whisper into his ear. “Once a pious little monk,” Ragnar delivers a particularly harsh thrust, hitting a pleasurable bundle of nerves inside Athelstan. “Now reduced to a devilish sinner by a blasphemous pagan.”

Athelstan wonders briefly about where in the world Ragnar could’ve learned that word, but the arousal thrumming through his body made any coherent train of thought impossible. He was barely managing to get out his prayers, let alone anything in addition to that. “Grant me strength, ‘O—oh fuuck—‘O Lord, to learn from my previous mistakes and help me grow,” Athelstan stops mid-sentence, interrupting himself with a slutty moan. “Ragnar, Ragnar, fucking hell, you’re so deep,” he whines, rolling his hips back on each thrust he gives.

His lips curl in a cocky smile. “How’s it feel, sweetheart?” The hand in Ath’s hair twists, making him groan loudly.

“It feels s’good, Ragnar!” He moans, white-knuckling Ragnar’s abandoned tunic. Ath fights his eyes from rolling back in his head, desperate not to appear as how slutty he feels. It doesn’t work. “Harder, Ragnar, please!” He almost forgets to continue his prayers, but a perfectly aimed thrust to his prostate reminds him of his orders. “‘O Lord, I thank You for even though I am a sinner, in the kindness of Your mercy!” Athelstan feels shame flood over him and the omnipotent eyes of Jesus Christ boring into him from across the room. Judging him, condemning him, and casting him down from the light of heaven, sentencing his soul to the fiery pit of hell for eternity. But that humiliating feeling is accompanied by a shameful pleasure that greedily spreads throughout his entire body, making his extremities tingle.

Ragnar is more than happy to oblige, fucking into him at a punishing speed, hips moving at a godlike speed. Each thrust hits Athelstan’s sweet spot dead on, ripping a loud moan from him every time. “You’re still so tight, Ath.” He bites the fleshy junction of his shoulder and neck, leaving a blotchy red mark in his wake. “It’s like your god made you to be wrapped around my cock like this.” He releases his hold on Ath’s hair, moving to fist Athelstan’s red, leaking cock instead. His hand nearly engulfed his cock entirely, just the tip peeking out from above his fingers. “What do you think, hm? You think he made you just for me?”

Ath manages to nod, biting his lip so hard it nearly bleeds. He’s given up praying for forgiveness now, his mind all-encompassed by Ragnar and the arousal coursing through his veins. “Just—Just for you, always been just for you!” He cants his hips into Ragnar’s hand, needy for any and all friction he could get against his poor, neglected cock. “Please, please, please, Ragnar!” he begs, unsure exactly what he’s begging for, just that he needs more of whatever it is. 

“Please, please, please!” Ragnar mocks and Athelstan can practically see the conniving smirk he wears in his mind’s eye. “Please what, little priest? Can’t give it to you if I don’t know what it is.” Athelstan’s whole body shudders from his next thrust, eyes quickly rolling back from the intensity of it.

He opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out are incoherent moans and slutty whimpers. “Please—oh, right there! Please, just, more, more of—fuuck—everything, please, Ragnar!” Ath’s arms give out from underneath him, his weight resting on his shoulders, cheek pressed against the cold stone floor.

“More, hm?” Ragnar slows his movements, earning himself a pathetic whine from his lover. “Even with all your pleas for forgiveness, you still want more?”

Ath nods with another high-pitched whine.

“Do you think your precious nailed god would approve of that desire?”

He shakes his head no.

“Perfect,” Ragnar growls, standing up straight once more, drinking in the sight before him as if it were the perfect cup of ale. He takes his hand off Athelstan’s cock and places it on his hip, spreading his cheeks apart with his thumb and forefinger. Reestablishing the pace he had previously, Ragnar watches his cock disappear inside him, a creamy white ring of pre-come circling his base. “I hope he’s watching when I paint your pretty insides and fully claim you as mine,” he pairs his words with a punishing thrust, far harder than anything else he’d delivered previously. “Watches me take you from him for good this time.”

Each thrust is like electricity, sending tingles from his toes to his fingertips. “Yours, Ragnar,” he hiccups, “Yours, make me yours!” 

Ragnar lands a harsh smack to Ath’s asscheek, a slightly pink handprint blooming across his pale skin. “Always have been mine, little priest. Ever since I stole you from your comfy little monastery.” He angles his hips so he hits Ath’s sweet spot with every thrust. “I wanna hear you say it. Tell your beloved god who you truly belong to.”

“You! I belong to you!” he cries, voice bouncing off the walls, echoing his shame for all close enough to hear. 

He yanks Ath’s head up, forcing him to speak directly to the cross instead of begging into the floor. Ragnar hoists him almost entirely off the floor, now barely able to graze the stone with his fingertips. “Look him in the eye when you speak, sweetheart. After all, you can’t disgrace him further by being rude, and I’m sure you don’t want that.” Ragnar’s words are soaked with liquid sin, the droplets burning a hole in the consecrated floors of this sacred building he’s corrupting with each passing minute. 

Athelstan hums a yes and repeats himself, staring into the cold, metal eyes of Jesus, his former savior, who died to atone for humanity’s sinful souls. Even though it’s only a statue, Ath felt as if it were Jesus himself nailed there, flesh and blood dripping to the floor with cold splats. He can practically see him there, gold and brown colored metal morphing into pale skin marred with rivers of red. “I’m sorry, ‘O Lord! Please bless me with your kind mercy!” he cries out in his thoughts, but deep down, he knows it’s not a genuine apology. He knows God knows as well. Ath doubts his soul will be cleansed, but he can’t doesn’t care any longer. He has a new God. 

“Tell him who you belong to.” Ragnar’s thrusts don’t let up, somehow gaining in force instead. 

Ath swallows thickly before speaking, eyebrows pressing upward, his face screwed together in overwhelming pleasure. “You! I belong to you!”

Ragnar twists Ath’s curls in his fist. “Who? Say my name, Athelstan. He might believe you’re talking about him.”

“You, Ragnar!”

“Hm? I can’t hear you, Athelstan; you’ve got to speak up, or else he won’t hear you, either,” Ragnar goads, grinding his hips hard against his ass. 

The curve of Athelstan’s spine is nearly pornographic. Ath scrambles to find something to hold onto but comes up empty-handed. “I belong to Ragnar! You, Ragnar!” he yells, stretching his arm backward to grip the back of Ragnar’s head, fingers anchoring in his hair. “Oh, my God—oh, my god fuck—I’m close, Ragnar, please!” 

Ragnar releases his grip on Ath’s hair to wrap his arm around Ath’s stomach, holding him closer than believed possible. He presses his sweaty forehead against Athelstan’s shoulder, his thrusts growing uneven and sloppy as he approaches his limit as well. “Fuck, Ath-Athelstan,” he stutters, the mask he wore cracking at the edges, revealing just how desperate he really is. “Fuuck, yes, that’s it, you’re so fucking hot like this, baby. Fucked open and needy, just for me and no one else.” Ragnar splays his fingers over the tensed muscles of Athelstan’s stomach, pressing down gently.

“No one else, all yours, my love,” Ath babbles, leaning his head back to rest on top of Ragnar’s. His chest heaves with each gulp of air he takes, the lower half of his ribs showing slightly every time his stomach sucks in. “Gonna—oh, fuck, there—gonna cum!” 

“Cum for me, Ath, make a pretty mess all over my hand, fuuck,” Ragnar moans out, words warbly and uneven as he does his best to speak without stumbling over everything. “You’re so pretty, so good for me.” His thrusts quickly lose whatever rhythm they had left as he reaches his climax, spilling his cum deep inside Ath’s spasming entrance. 

Athelstan’s cock throbs and twitches when he feels Ragnar’s orgasm, his own cum spurting all over his stomach and Ragnar’s hand. His legs shake violently, toes curling and uncurling in tandem with each spurt of his cock. The short nails of his left hand rake across Ragnar’s back and side, making the man shiver. As they both come down from their highs, a mix of Ath’s cum and sweat drips wetly onto the floor. He can feel Ragnar breathing heavily against his back, finding his equally exhausted presence comforting.

As his cock softens, Ragnar carefully slips out of him, a rush of cum quickly following. Shivering, Athelstan shuffles to turn around before Ragnar does. Now face to face with his lover, Ragnar kisses him gently, as if Athelstan would break if treated too roughly, a stark difference from how Ragnar was manhandling him a few minutes prior. He tilts his head to one side and cups Athelstan’s unmarred cheek with his clean hand, thumb stroking his sweaty cheekbone. Ath licks into his mouth, nose pressing into Ragnar’s scarred one. The kiss lasts for both years and only a handful of seconds simultaneously. Neither knows who pulls away first. “Are you okay, Ath?” he asks, rubbing his nose against Ath’s.

He nods with a hum. “Are you?” Ragnar nods, too. “Didn’t know you had that in you, baby.”

Ragnar snickers, kissing the tip of his nose. “And this surprises you?”

“Nothing about you surprises me. Not anymore.” Athelstan scrunches his nose cutely after he kisses it. “We’ll have to be quick about cleaning up; someone might come looking for us.”

Ragnar snags his tunic off the floor and uses it to wipe away the cum dripping from between Ath’s legs. “Did you mean what you said? About belonging to me and only me? Forever?” he asks somewhat quietly, the insecurity he shows uncharacteristic of him. 

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Ragnar,” Ath says softly, his voice soothing, like a wool-lined blanket on a cold winter’s night, calming any worries Ragnar might be harboring within him. “You know that.”

Dropping his now-soiled tunic, Ragnar wraps his arms around him in a tight hug, corded muscles flexing beneath his skin. “Good; perfect. You’re perfect.”

Athelstan drapes his arms over Ragnar’s shoulders, hugging him back just as—if not more—tightly. Ragnar traces shapeless designs into the skin of Ath’s lower back, pressing soft, grounding kisses along the column of his neck. He kisses the bite mark he left, which is now starting to bruise. They slowly sink to the floor, Athelstan sitting in Ragnar’s lap, legs on either side of his waist, head resting against the lower part of his shoulder. “I love you, you know.”

“I know. I love you, too,” Ragnar says, almost as if he’s been saying it to him for decades, not years. As if every time he’s said it, it’s always been for Athelstan, even before he knew him. As if his love is reserved for Athelstan and Athelstan only. He lays his cheek on the top of his head, careful not to dig his chin into Ath’s skull. “When we go home in the spring, we’ll hold the biggest feast our halls have ever seen.”

Ath gazes up at him the best he can. “What for? What’ll we be celebrating, other than a successful return like always?”

Ragnar holds his hand, lacing their fingers together. “A wedding.”

“A wedding?” Ath questions, getting a nod in response. “Who’s?”

Ragnar breaks his gaze, looking up at the ceiling. “Our wedding.”

Blindsighted but elated, Athelstan shifts to look at him properly, refocusing Ragnar’s eyes where they belong—on him. “Our wedding?” Ragnar calmly nods like he didn’t just propose to him. “You need to work on your proposal skills, darling,” he giggles as a stupidly wide, toothy grin spreads across his face.

“Is that a yes, then?” Ragnar asks, donning a toothy smile of his own.

Athelstan holds Ragnar’s face in his hands and kisses him. “You dumbass, of course, it’s a yes.”

Ragnar kisses him again, then litters small kisses across his cheeks, chin, forehead, and anywhere else he can easily reach. “Perfect,” he kisses Ath’s lips. “Next time I take you, it’ll be on our marriage bed.”

“Ragnar!” Athelstan gasps with a slight laugh. His words made his softened cock twitch in curiosity. “You can’t just say that!”

“Yes, I can.” Ragnar squeezes his waist. “We both know you love it,” he teases, pressing his thumbs into Ath’s soft abdomen, messing up the dark hair there.

He rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh, unlacing his hand from Ragnar’s so he can drape them over Ragnar’s shoulders again. Ath holds his own hand, lacing his fingers together. “You’re so insufferable, you know that?”

Ragnar grins cheekily, far too proud of the fact. “You love it, don’t even try and deny it.”

“What if I do deny it? What’ll you do then?” Athelstan asks, licking his lips and shifting his hips to brush against Ragnar’s cock, who’s making an effort to chub up again. 

He nips at Athelstan’s nose as a warning, a grin still spread across his face. “Something we can’t get caught doing in here, baby.” He reaches back to grab Athelstan’s tunic, blue eyes never leaving pale ones. Ath slips it over his head and stands, tugging on his trousers. Ragnar copies him, minus a shirt. They gather their things and clean their fluids off the floor as best as they can manage with the little supplies available. Once it looks like nothing sinful has occurred, the pair leaves the chapel hand in hand, eagerly heading for Ragnar’s chambers. 

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