#And it becomes a completely different genre of story if you think he should wind up with one of them

[allieinarden]

The generation that grows up with Over the Garden Wall will never understand how funny it was watching like 70% of the base flip from Team Beatrice to Team Sara when they watched it a second time.

[mononijikayu]

together — gojo satoru.

“You already noticed I’m here, so why aren’t you saying anything?” you asked, breaking the silence. Satoru’s laughter filled the room, light and familiar, though he didn’t look up from his work. “If I make a mistake on the budget suggestion for this year, I’ll be paying for it.” You couldn’t help but snicker at his response. “You have too much money to be complaining about budget mistakes you can replace.” you shot back, your voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and fondness. “But I like getting it right.” he replied, his tone casual, as if he were talking about something as simple as picking the right dessert. “I like winning.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence

WARNING/S: angst, romance, break up, hurt/comfort, divorce, separation, hurt, humor, depictions of failing marriage, depiction of post-divorce grief, depiction of sexual content, usage of pet names and endearments, depiction of grief, mention of grief, mention of sexual content, mention of loneliness;

WORD COUNT: 5.5k words

NOTE: the poll winner from recently!!! this took a while. i wanted to write more but you might get bored of me doing longer stories. i should learn how to stop yapping and get straight to the point too,,,,, but im grateful you come and read it at all. i love you all so much!!! i'll be focusing on writing future projects to keep you entertained too <3 oh~ also the japanese text above is the ending text of the story <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

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LIVING ALONE AGAIN WAS STRANGE. You would think that after spending most of your life living alone, solitude would have become a familiar companion, a constant that you’d grown accustomed to. Yet, the nearly decade-long interlude of marriage had fundamentally shifted your sense of normalcy. Your normal wasn’t your normal years ago. That normal was gone long ago. 

The absence of Satoru, though frequent, had always been counterbalanced by his presence at other times—his laughter, his warmth, the shared moments that punctuated the quiet of your home. Memories reverberated in your head often, almost like a broken record repeating over and over again. 

Even with his unpredictable schedule and the long stretches of time he spent away on missions, his mere existence had woven a thread of companionship into the fabric of your daily life. His absence, when it occurred, was never complete. It was always lingering, almost the feeling of the wind on your cheeks. Like the sunlight that doesn’t know where else to go. 

There was always a lingering echo of his presence in the small things: the way he left his favorite hot cocoa mug on the counter, the occasional stray articles of clothing, or the faint scent of his cologne that lingered in the air. You existed alone and yet never truly alone. You were stuck in the pandemonium of him. And you can’t escape it, not him. Not even if you wanted to. You loved him too much, you think to yourself. And perhaps that was the most dangerous, most painful reality. 

Now, facing the reality of your solitude once again, you felt a shift that was more profound than you had anticipated. The house was quieter, emptier, in a way that was starkly different from your pre-marriage solitude. The echoes of his laughter were replaced by a silence that felt heavier, more pronounced. The space that was once filled with the shared rituals and routines was now hollow, resonating with the absence of the life you had once built together.

You found yourself unexpectedly disoriented by this new kind of loneliness. It wasn’t just the absence of a physical presence; it was the loss of the rhythm of life that had come with living with someone else—the cadence of shared moments, the comfort of knowing someone would always be there to fill the void. You realized that nearly a decade of marriage had redefined what it meant to be alone. The silence you faced now was a different kind of solitude, one that bore the weight of change and loss.

As you adjusted to this new reality, you were confronted with a truth you hadn’t fully grasped before: the difference between being alone and being alone together. The former was an old friend that knows you too well. And the latter had become an ingrained part of your existence, transforming how you experienced and understood solitude. Even in his absence, the presence of Gojo Satoru had left a mark that made the return to your solitary life feel like a disorienting shift. It was a constant reminder, like an afterthought — that you were drowning in both of it. And you wish you weren’t.

The first few weeks after the divorce felt like wading through an endless fog, each step heavier than the last. You’d packed up your life and moved into a smaller apartment, a place devoid of the memories that once filled every corner of your shared space with Gojo Satoru. The silence was a constant reminder of what was lost, and you couldn’t help but notice the emptiness where his laughter once echoed. 

The day you took off your wedding ring, it felt like a final, quiet resignation to a reality you hadn’t fully accepted. You set it aside in a drawer, out of sight but never truly out of mind. And you cried, on and on, for hours that seemed to go on to infinity. Yet, the last name remained, a silent tribute to what once was, even if you weren’t entirely sure why you held on to it. Maybe it was the familiarity, maybe it was a part of you that couldn’t fully let go. But it remained. 

You know he’s changed too since the divorce. At least that’s what you’ve heard from people you know. He moved to a different apartment, a place that probably lacks the warmth you tried to bring into your home together. And you can’t blame him. It was filled with ghosts, your old home. Ghosts of you and him that he didn’t want to remember, he didn’t want to relive. 

He still keeps his wedding ring, that’s what the whispers say. At times, you imagine him, still as tall and proud as ever, his uniform impeccable, with that wedding ring you thought he’d discard hanging around his neck, hidden beneath layers of fabric and bravado. It’s not that you expected him to wear it forever, but knowing he does fills you with a strange mix of pain and comfort. 

He deleted your contact from his phone, yet you’re certain he could still dial your number from memory, just as you’ve failed to erase him from yours. It was too bad, you can’t help but think. How silly it was for both of you, to still be this attached to ten numbers on your phone screen. That it is now etched in your heads. One way or another, still listed as the emergency number on the first listing of the contact list.

It’s ironic, you think. Almost a decade of marriage, years filled with love, laughter, and moments that felt like they could never end, all reduced to this—two people who still love each other deeply but grew too tired to fight for what they had. Not tired of each other, no. You’re sure he’ll always love you, just as you know that you’ll always love him. But the weight of it all became too much. You couldn’t carry it anymore, and neither could he.

And so here you are, in your separate spaces, living lives that feel incomplete without the other. It’s a strange kind of heartbreak, one where the love is still there, lingering like a ghost, but the life you once shared is gone. The divorce papers were just a formality, a first step made by a child born into this world; the real loss, the real step to living again is something neither of you has figured out how to let go of yet. And perhaps, you will never truly find it.

But at times, love wasn’t enough. Love couldn’t bridge the gaps that grew between you and Satoru. Keeping each other alive wasn’t enough either. Knowing that the other was out there, somewhere, breathing, wasn’t enough to fill the void that settled in your heart. Sometimes, you need more than that. And you certainly did.

You felt alone for most of your marriage to Satoru. Not unloved, but alone. There was a difference, you’re sure of it. Satoru loved you, a lot. You knew he did. If you could see it, you would think it would have been large enough to create a bigger sea than the Pacific Ocean. Perhaps it would engulf the whole planet too.

He chose you, above everything. At least at one point, when duty didn’t matter as much as it did now. When the world still spun in the way that made sense. You still remember how his eyes were as they bore against his family members, standing in front of you. He went against tradition, defying the expectations of those who believed he should marry someone with powerful connections, someone from a clan as prestigious as his own. 

Instead, he chose you, a sorcerer without ties to power or influence. Just you. Plain and ordinary you. He carved out Sundays to be with you, Megumi, and Tsumiki, a precious day reserved for just the four of you, away from the demands of the world you were all trapped in. He tried to be there, he really did. You knew that he did his best. Because he loved you.

Yet, despite all that, most days you didn’t see him as much. Duty outweighed that devotion, that love, that defiance.  He was always somewhere else, pulled in too many directions at once. His duties as the strongest, as a teacher, as a protector—those came first. And while you understood, while you knew that he was out there saving lives, it didn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear. Understanding doesn’t make it hurt any less. And he knew that too.

You were surrounded by love, yet it felt like you were living parallel lives, close but never truly touching. The days blurred together, filled with brief moments of connection followed by long stretches of absence. You grew used to missing him, to waiting for the rare moments when he’d be fully present, but it wore on you. The love you shared was real, but it wasn’t enough to keep the loneliness at bay.

That loneliness, the growing chasm between you, led to fights—fights that started small, sparked by little things but quickly ignited into full-blown arguments. Screaming matches that echoed through the apartment, tears that blurred your vision, and words that cut deep, words that should never have been said. 

You tried to make sure you never did that in front of Megumi or Tsumiki. But you think they knew. How could they not, when the silence was so loud? And you would rather stay in silence than let them see the tears, let Satoru see the tears. There were moments when the hurt became too much, and the pain spilled over into everything you did, even the intimacy that once brought you closer.

There were nights when the sex was intense, a desperate attempt to reconnect, to remember the love that once held you together. To feel something other than this emptiness, this grief, this pain. But even in those moments, pleasure was tinged with an ache so deep it brought you to tears. Tears that spilled from the heart of someone already grieving, someone who saw the end coming long before the final goodbye. You grieved for the marriage you had, the marriage that you didn’t have. The one that shouldn’t have ended this way but was unraveling regardless.

He lay on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips traced a desperate path along your neck, each kiss laden with a quiet urgency, as if this was the last time he’d ever taste your skin. His breath was warm against your throat, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held you close, unwilling to let go just yet.

Your arms locked around the small of his back, pulling him even closer as you moaned against him, the sound trembling with the tears gathering in your eyes. The pressure of his body, the way he rocked against your core, flesh to flesh, was both comforting and excruciatingly bittersweet. Each movement, each whispered breath, felt like a silent plea for more time, a way to hold on to what was slipping through your fingers.

You didn’t want to let go, your heart clinging to the connection between you, desperate to keep him close for just a little longer. But even as you wrapped yourself around him, feeling the pulse of his heart against yours, you knew the truth. You knew that this would end, that this was just another fleeting moment before you’d have to let go, before the final goodbye.

Your tears mingled with the sweat on your skin, a physical manifestation of the heartbreak you were both too afraid to voice. He kissed your neck as if he could somehow imprint his love into your very soul, but deep down, you both knew it wouldn’t be enough. No matter how tightly you held on, no matter how deeply he loved you, this was a chapter that was closing, and nothing could stop that.

You felt both raw and exposed, you lay there beside him, your body still trembling from the aftermath, your heart feeling like it had been shattered into a thousand pieces. The air between you was thick with the unspoken, a silence so heavy it pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. The ceiling above you blurred as tears welled up, but the words that clawed their way up your throat demanded to be spoken, even if they tore you both apart in the process.

“This isn’t working out anymore, Satoru.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the quiet like a knife. The moment the words left your lips, you could feel the shift in the bed, his body tensing beside you as if bracing for a blow that had already landed. “You know it as much as I do.”

He didn’t respond right away, the silence between you stretching out into something almost unbearable. When he finally turned to look at you, his expression was a mixture of shock and guilt, as if he hadn’t expected to hear what you both knew was inevitable. 

His eyes, those vibrant blue eyes that once held so much joy and love, were now clouded, searching yours for something—anything—that could change what you had just said. Because he knew. He knew it even before you did, with those six eyes. That it was over. That there was nothing left to find. 

The love was still there, burning bright, but it wasn’t enough to hold together what had been breaking for so long. You watched as the realization settled over him, as the weight of your words began to sink in, and in that moment, you saw a part of him crumble. It was as if the strongest man you’d ever known had been brought to his knees, not by any curse or enemy, but by the simple truth that he couldn’t fix what was broken between you.

“I’m sorry, babe.” he whispered, the words trembling in the space between you, as if they carried the weight of all the things he couldn’t say. His voice cracked, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he looked vulnerable, lost in a way you had never seen before. “I’m really sorry.”

His apology hung in the air, a single thread connecting you to a past that had once been so full of promise, now unraveling before your eyes. You wanted to reach out, to hold him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that you both tried, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you lay there, the distance between your bodies feeling like a chasm that neither of you could cross anymore, the reality of your situation settling in like a cold, unrelenting truth.

And in that moment, you knew it was over. Not just the marriage, but the fight to keep it alive. The love you had for each other was still there, but it had been worn down by the loneliness, the missed connections, the time spent apart. And now, as you lay beside him, you realized that love alone wasn’t enough to save what you had lost. And you were tired. You were tired of it all.

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ALL YOU WANTED TO DO WAS CRAWL INTO BED AND SLEEP. That mission really did a number on your energy, you think. But you were just desperate to get it done with. With the rise of cursed spirits doubling, you had to do more than what you usually do. And now that you were home, you wished for nothing more than to take a nice long shower and drink some beer before going off to bed. 

You yawned as you opened the door and took your keys away, the exhaustion settling into your bones as you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag by the door.The familiar hum of your apartment greeted you, a moment of quiet before you could finally relax. You turned on your AC and put your coat away. But before you could even take a breath, your phone rang, its sharp tone cutting through the silence.

You glanced at the screen and saw Shoko’s name flashing. A small smile tugged at your lips as you answered, “Hey, Shoko—”

She didn’t let you finish. “You need to get to Jujutsu High. Immediately.”

Her voice was brisk, but there was an underlying edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. Your eyes shot a glance at the clock on the wall, noting the late hour with a sigh. You didn’t have to ask, but the question slipped out anyway, “Is it Satoru?”

Shoko’s snicker crackled through the phone, and you could almost see her rolling her eyes. “Who else would it be?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of your nose as a wave of weariness washed over you. It always seemed to be him. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Sho.” you replied, your voice resigned but determined. “Just let me have a shower first.”

There was a pause, and then Shoko’s tone softened just slightly. “Thanks.”

“Keep him entertained until I get there, okay?”

“I don’t really think I can keep promises like that.”

You hung up, the familiar mixture of concern and frustration stirring in your chest. You knew Satoru—how he pushed himself, how he always danced on the edge of danger, how he made everyone worry without ever seeming to care about the toll it took on those who loved him. And now, once again, you found yourself rushing to his side, the weight of your shared history pressing down on you as you prepared to face whatever mess he’d gotten himself into this time.

When you arrived at the familiar room, the sight that greeted you was almost surreal in its familiarity. It was exactly as you had left it weeks and weeks ago, as if time had frozen in this one small corner of the world. But you think in a way, that’s how sentimental your ex–husband was. You sighed. It was still something you have to get used to, thinking of Satoru as your ex–husband. But slowly but little, maybe you would.

Papers were stacked precariously on every available surface, threatening to topple over at any moment. Food containers were haphazardly piled in a corner, one after the other, all empty. Sweet soda cans lay scattered around, rolling slightly with each step you took. Dust had begun to settle on the scrolls and books that were abandoned on the desk and floor, evidence of a mind too occupied to care about the mess surrounding it.

And there, in the far corner of the room, was Gojo Satoru. His cerulean blue eyes, as bright and intense as ever, were glued to a pile of administrative paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. Concentration that you rarely see in him when you are at home. Well, when you still lived together. You stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in, before letting out a long, quiet sigh.

“You already noticed I’m here, so why aren’t you saying anything?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Satoru’s laughter filled the room, light and familiar, though he didn’t look up from his work. “If I make a mistake on the budget suggestion for this year, I’ll be paying for it.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at his response. “You have too much money to be complaining about budget mistakes you can replace.” you shot back, your voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and fondness.

“But I like getting it right.” he replied, his tone casual, as if he were talking about something as simple as picking the right dessert. “I like winning.”

You watched him for a moment longer, a twinge of something bittersweet tugging at your heart. Satoru had always been like this, meticulous in certain things, striving for perfection in the most mundane tasks. And for a fleeting second, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to get more than just the budget right. Maybe he had wanted to get your marriage right, too. But like the paperwork in front of him, it had slipped through the cracks, and no amount of precision could fix what had already fallen apart.

You shook the thought from your mind, leaning against the doorframe. “So, what’s the crisis this time? Or did you just need me to come clean up your mess again?”

Satoru finally looked up, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” 

And as much as you wanted to deny it, to tell him you were done cleaning up after him, you couldn’t. Because deep down, you knew that some part of you would always show up for him, even now, even after everything.

“You haven’t slept yet, have you?”

He says nothing for a moment and smiles. “Is it that obvious?”

“I was your wife at one point, Satoru.” You smiled back at him. “I would know it all.”

You moved further into the room, your steps unhurried but purposeful as you waltzed toward him. Without a word, you took the seat directly in front of him, the old familiarity of the space wrapping around you like a well-worn coat. The paper bag in your hand crinkled softly as you set it down on the cluttered table between you. 

Finally, Satoru looked up from his paperwork, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes, always so piercing, softened just slightly as he took you in. “You getting worried for me, babes?” he teased, the nickname slipping out as naturally as ever.

You sighed, the weight of years shared between you pressing down on your shoulders. “When have I never been worried?” you replied, the words tinged with a quiet resignation. “Eat up before you die from hunger, you idiot.”

He chuckled, that easy, careless laugh of his that used to make your heart flutter. “I’ll be fine, you know?” he said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “I would have been home before 4 am.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the table for a moment. “I know… but I still worry.”

There was a pause, a beat where the air between you grew heavy with the things left unsaid. When you looked back up, his smile had shifted—still there, but tinged with something almost unbearably sad. 

“I hope you stop.” he murmured, the honesty in his voice cutting deeper than any argument or harsh word could have. “It’s not good for you. To worry about me.”

You knew he meant it. Satoru didn’t want you to be weighed down by him, didn’t want you caged like some delicate bird in a gilded cage. He had set you free so that you wouldn’t be in pain anymore, so that you could breathe without the constant worry that had come to define so much of your life together. And in his own way, he was just being honest, just trying to do right by you, even if it meant asking for something that neither of you really wanted. 

But the truth of it hurt all the same, a constant nagging that no matter how much love there was, sometimes that love wasn’t enough to hold you together. And as you sat there, watching him, you knew that letting go of that worry was going to be one of the hardest things you’d ever have to do.

"I heard you got the job at Fukuoka in a few weeks." Satoru whispered, his pearless blue gaze heavy on you. "Congratulations."

You don't know how he heard it, who he heard it from. But your ex-husband always had his six eyes on everything. He has ways. But maybe it didn't matter. You don't think it would have been easy to tell him anyway. You didn't have the heart to. In a way, you feel like you're leaving him behind. And you didn't want to. That was your biggest fear.

That your Satoru would truly be alone. That he would suffer everything the world gave him on his own. As he always has. Because when you think about Satoru, he wasn't the strongest. He was just the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. And now he's the man you loved—still do love. Yet he won't have your shoulder. Now more so than ever that you're leaving.

"Yaga recommended me." You whisper back at him with a tender, broken look. "He thought I would do well as a teacher there. And well, there was a spot opened since Inumaki-sensei retired."

"Inumaki's uncle, wasn't it?" He says, leaning against the back rest. "No, he's definitely older. He's the great-uncle."

"I think so, I'm not very sure." You confess. "I'm not into the clan matters."

He chuckles. "That's okay. Clan matters have always been boring."

Silence befell the two of you as you looked at your fumbling nails. You didn't know what to do now, you didn't think you can meet his eyes. Your grandmother told you that the window to the soul was the eyes. And so, you were hesitant. You were hesistant to see how much damage you could bring to his soul. How much grief you can inflict upon him by leaving.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your seat, and decided to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “How’s Megumi?” you asked, your voice soft but steady, focusing on something you both still cared about.

You blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over, refusing to let him see how much his words had shaken you. This was supposed to be a simple visit, just dropping off food, checking in on him like you always did. But nothing about being around Satoru was ever simple, not even now. 

"It's a five hour train ride." You whispered, your eyes still darted to your hands. "Thirteen hours by car and...and I'll stop by for reports and administrative meetings."

"You want me to visit you?" Satoru teased, crossing his arms.

You looked at him, finally. Your lips pursed tightly. "If you want. You know....you know my house is open to you. Wherever it is."

"And you're my home. You always will be." He mumbles lowly, a ghostly smile on his lips. "I'll come and see you, hm? Teleport even."

You could feel a lump gather at your throat. You didn't know what to say. It was overwhelming to hear. But maybe, just maybe — it would hurt less had he said it more often. Maybe it would have been common place. And maybe, your heart wouldn't be breaking over and over again.

"Just don't go on days you have work. Your kids need you too."

He smiles. "No promises."

Satoru’s expression softened further, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “He’s doing well, I suppose.” he said, leaning back in his chair as if the mere mention of Megumi eased some of the tension between you. “He’s been training hard, getting stronger every day. You know how he is—always pushing himself.”

You nodded, picturing the serious young boy who had become such a central part of both your lives. For a moment, your mind also crosses to Tsumiki. You dare not ask about Tsumiki. Not just yet. You weren’t prepared for the same answer he’d given you a while ago. 

“That sounds like him.” you murmured, a small smile finding its way to your lips despite everything. “He’s always been so determined, even when he was little. Likes proving himself and getting better.”

Satoru’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching your face as if he could read your thoughts. “He misses you, you know?” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something almost like regret. “He doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, a fresh wave of emotion swelling in your chest. You swallowed hard, looking away for a moment to compose yourself. “I miss him too.” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Every day.”

Satoru reached out then, his hand hesitating for just a second before he placed it gently over yours, a rare moment of contact that spoke volumes. He gave you a small squeeze and then a faint smile, a smile that you wished wasn’t this broken, this sad.

“You should come see him. He’s already lodging here in the school.” he suggested, his thumb brushing against your skin in a soothing motion. “He’d like that, having a visit from you.”

You glanced down at his hand, the warmth of his touch both familiar and foreign at the same time. The simplicity of his suggestion made it all the more heartbreaking. As much as you wanted to see Megumi, to be there for him, it was the reminder of what you had lost—what you both had lost—that made it so difficult.

“I will.” you finally said, your voice thick with the emotion you were trying so hard to keep at bay. “I’ll see him soon.”

Satoru nodded, the understanding passing between you in the quiet that followed. It was a fragile peace, held together by shared memories and the unspoken love that still lingered between you. But it was enough for now, even if just for this moment.

You blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over, refusing to let him see how much his words had shaken you. This was supposed to be a simple visit, just dropping off food, checking in on him like you always did. But nothing about being around Satoru was ever simple, not even now. 

As you prepared to leave, the weight of the moment pressed heavily on you, and you turned back toward Satoru, unable to shake the feeling of seeing him so sad. “It’s hard to see you like this, you know?” you said, your voice tinged with concern. “It hurts knowing how much you’re struggling.”

Satoru sighed, his gaze dropping to the papers strewn across his desk. “I have no one to blame but myself, babe.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a resignation that seemed almost like acceptance. “And that’s okay. I’ll figure it out. I always will. I have to.”

You shook your head, frustration and sadness mixing in your voice. “It’s not okay, Satoru. I don’t want you to keep punishing yourself over this. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to anyone.”

He looked up at you, his cerulean eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that he rarely showed. He squeezed your hand again, his grip firm but gentle. You feel like at any moment, you are going to break. He was so gentle, he always was.  When it came to you? He could never be someone that would let Infinity be between you. Gentleness, it's what you deserved. To be loved well, that too. That’s what you deserved most in the world.

“I want you to think of yourself first. You were and always will be my first priority.” he said softly. “You deserve to have a life too, one that isn’t just about me. You need to take care of yourself.”

The simple sincerity of his words broke the dam you had been trying so hard to hold back. The tears you had been fighting to keep at bay finally spilled over, streaming down your cheeks. He lets out a small breath as he takes his free hand and lets his fingers wipe them too. Just as gently as his other hand touches your own.

“I… I don’t know how to do that.” you admitted through your tears, your voice breaking. You bit your lower lip. “It’s hard to just walk away from everything we’ve been through. I keep thinking about how things could have been different.”

Satoru’s expression softened, and he reached out to gently brush away a tear from your cheek. “You don’t have to have all the answers, okay?” he said quietly. “Just take it one step at a time. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to not have it all figured out right now.”

The tenderness in his touch, the care in his voice, only made the tears flow more freely. You nodded, trying to steady your breath. “I just want you to be okay.” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “I want us both to be okay, even if it’s apart.”

Satoru nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and understanding. “We will be,” he said softly. “It’s just going to take time. But I believe we’ll find our way. You’ll find yours, and I’ll find mine. And we’ll both be okay.”

“Satoru,” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of all the years you had shared. “You were… you still are the love of my life.”

The words hung in the air, and you could see them hit him like a tidal wave. His eyes widened as the realization crashed over him—memories of youth, of laughter, of love that once felt unbreakable. The years you had spent together, now mere dried ink on the pages of the book of your life, flashed before his eyes. You could almost see the emotional flood pouring over him, washing away the veneer of his usually unshakeable composure.

His laughter broke the silence, a harsh, choking sound that was as close to tears as he would allow himself to show. He takes a deep breath, trying to still himself. Trying to not let this hurt you even more than it already was.

“You already know the answer to that.” he managed, his voice thick with emotion. His laughter turned into a soft, almost pained smile, as if the truth of your words had cracked something open inside him. “Always. No matter what.”

You nodded, tears blurring your vision. “I do.” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “And I always will. I’ll always love you.”

The room felt colder now, the space between you feeling like an insurmountable distance. But there was a strange sense of peace in acknowledging what had been and what could never be again. As you turned back toward the door, you took one last look at him, holding on to the bittersweet memory of a love that had been both beautiful and painful. 

And with that, you stepped out into the world that awaited you, the horizon stretching out with possibilities as you carried with you the love that had once defined your past. Even as you embarked on this new beginning, the echoes of what you shared with Satoru would forever remain a part of you, an indelible mark on the canvas of your life.

As you moved away, Gojo Satoru watched you with a mix of sadness and resolve. He knew that this separation was not just a physical distance but a necessary step for both of you to find peace and stability. The sight of you walking toward your new life in Fukuoka, away from the familiar chaos and dangers of what's to come; it filled him with hope. It filled him with relief.

In his heart, Satoru found solace in the thought that you would be safe, shielded from the perilous world that had often intruded upon your lives together. The distance between you was painful, but it was for the best. You can’t be together anymore. He’d only hurt you. And no amount of love can bury that hurt. He knew that too well.

As you vanished from view, Satoru took a deep breath, accepting the weight of the decision and the emotions it carried. His eyes looked down at the picture of you and him, back in your wedding. He lets his finger linger against the glass, against the memory of your smiling face. It was better this way. He sighs and puts his blindfold against his eyes again. He takes a seat again. He looks at the meal you made him and he starts to eat again. Little by little, savoring the warmth that remained.

“You made it too spicy again.” He whispers into the empty room, smiling to himself. "That's cruel."

[kyndaris]

Plot? What Plot?

As someone who aspires to become an author that will someday get on a Best Selling List somewhere in the world, I read a lot of books. While it's not on the level of professional BookTok-ers or those running BookTube channels, I like to think I get through a decent portion of them during the year. Especially when my books of choice are usually 600-page minimum behemoths. AFter all, with the rising cost of books (they're about $24 now in Australia for a standard paperback), I need to ensure I'm getting my money's worth!

However, ever since I joined the bookclub at my workplace, I've been exposed to genres and books I might not have usually thought twice on. Surprisingly, most of them have been much shorter than the books I usually devour.

But the most recent book we've picked is Year of the Locust by Terry Hayes. And, quite frankly, I've mixed feelings about the book. Spoilers ahead for anyone who might want to read this book in the future.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to spy thrillers. Hell, back in 2013, I even bought I Am Pilgrim after seeing the title being advertised nearly everywhere in the London Underground while I was there third-wheeling my friend and her then-boyfriend's relationship (you know you're close if you can get away with hijacking a trip overseas to see a significant other).

Did I love it? Not...exactly.

Still, I gave it a reasonable 3 out of 5 stars!

Year of the Locust, on the other hand, is a rough 2.5 stars (rounded down on Goodreads in this instance).

And I know you must be asking me why. After all, it's a 600-page behemoth. So, it would be in my usual wheelhouse of books I'd like to savour in just shy of a month.

Unfortunately, while I find the writing and sentence structure decent, my main issue are the characters and the surfeit of plot. This is no A Court of Silver Flames where Nesta and Cassian spin plates in the House of the Wind (and by that I mean the training, the bloody 10,000 step staircase and all the unnecessary sexy times), and the plot, when it is remembered, is scattered unevenly throughout before it all gets rushed through in the last few chapters.

No, no. Year of the Locust suffers from what I like to call the Scarlet Nexus issue. It's where the writers (or writer in this case), think any and all ideas are great and insert it into the story as some sort of twist. And in Year of the Locust, the second half has this in spades: space spores which fast-track human into evolving a white carapace, giving them a 'ridgeback,' and heightening their aggression; an experimental cloaking technology affixed to a submarine that somehow makes it travel through time.

Like, why? Why couldn't this be a separate story entirely?

Also, did you have to power up your villain into some video game bullet sponge? Uncharted 2: Honour Among Thieves this is not. But if you blink, the difference between Zoran Lazarevic and Kazinsky are almost non-existent.

Perhaps my gut instinct at the start of the book should have warned me that Year of the Locust would not go the way I thought it would. Especially as it opened with a completely different adventure with Ridley Kane going up against the Magus (which would later be revisited again in Part 3 - most likely to pad the book out because it added little substance to the whole Ridley and Kazinsky dynamic in any shape or form) to highlight a secret technique the dastardly spy would use against our protagonist, one he would repeat in the final few chapters against Kazinsky.

Another thing that rubbed me wrong was how often Ridley, as he recounts the story sometime in the future, would tell the reader how deadly all his foes were. All the while underselling his abilities as a Denied Access Area spy. Rather, our protagonist is just an ordinary guy who once wished to be part of a submarine crew and has mastery of multiple languages like Russian and Arabic.

The other parts I felt added little to the actual plot were the foreshadowing dreams Ridley has, and which many of the supporting cast attribute to PTSD. Why can't intuition just be that? Did Ridley truly have to emphasise he could hear 'gunshots from the future?' It's not as if he was ever shown to be clairvoyant about other things in his life.

Oh, and don't get me started on how much of the book 'tells' the backstory of all of its characters rather than simply 'showing' it. Did we need to have several chapters dedicated to Kazinsky talking about his childhood of hunting for mammoth tusks? How did it add to his characterisation? Did Ridley really have to exclaim to the rest of the CIA that Kazinsky was expositing to hammer the exact same point home to the reader?

By the time I reached the end, I was praying for the story to end. Especially when typical tropes began being pulled out: like Ridley refusing to go back in time and only did so when his wife (when did he and Rebecca even get married again?) died in his arms. The writing truly could be seen on the wall.

Also, how did the spores manage to travel around the world? How much was on some asteroid ore? And if they could become airborne, why couldn't people get infected after Devil's Night?

All I can say after reading the book was that the author definitely needed an editor. One who wasn't afraid to tell the author to kill his darlings if he wanted to write something that might not have been a complete mess. Or, at the very least, split the plot in half and write them separately with different characters. There was absolutely no need to mush two disparate ideas into one book. Especially given how strange the tonal change would be.

Do I regret that I read this book? A little. There are a million other choices sitting on my bookshelves. And yet, I also think it's important to read books one might not always enjoy. After all, such things help widen one's understanding of taste. If you're lucky, though, you might just find a new genre you'd fall in love with. Or a new favourite author.

While I know some might argue there isn't enough time in our very short life spans to read books you don't like, it's hard to distinguish what you do and don't like without experimenting a little. If one reads only the classics, thinking they ought to like them because of how they've managed to stand the test of time, it may deter them from books entirely. Especially if the writing might be too pretentious or too dry.

Besides, what someone else might like but I might detest is all very subjective. There are many people online who have elevated Sarah J Maas to such heights I'd not be able to reach while leaving other authors, who might be just as good, in the dust.

In any case, I know for certain Year of the Locust isn't quite the novel I expected. While there are some reviewers on Goodreads who love the rollercoaster ride they were presented with, it is this humble blogger's opinion that the story would have been better split into two separate novels. Coupled with a good editor who wasn't afraid to leave certain threads on the cutting room floor, those two separate stories would have been more tightly written and given Terry Hayes the springboard to leap into a wholly different genre.

[alycosworld]

guess who🤡 heyhey 💕 here. I’m pretty sure by this 2nd request u can tell that I’m a very emotional person🧍🏻‍♀️ and that I’m a person that seeks alot of comfort from fictional characters because i dont have a life and good friends.

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putting a divider here so u dont have to read everything and can look out for keywords!

purple—> person

pink—>genre

green—>subject

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I’m not sure if u r comfy writing kazuha so if yr not I’m sorry u can ignore this! i just want a fluff comfort for reader who got like REALLY scolded for getting bad grades for exams because u have no idea how angsty I’m feeling rn:( my parents just literally like scolded me like there was no tmr istg- so i just need really fluff comfort. so a kazuha x NB(non bibary)!reader

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Anyways again tysm u have no idea how grateful i am if you accept my request!!!<3 get lots of rest and drink water. only do this if you want to!

byebye<3

-💕

Kazuha's Wise and Whimsical Words

Kaedehara Kazuha X Reader

A/N: aaaa 💕anon ily!! being emotional is completely fine and I would be honoured to become of your good friends!! I will be a part of your life, private message me if you're ever feeling down! I just want my readers happy because they make me happy aaaaaa 🥺

with that being said, i love this request! My parents were so hard on me when it came to exams, but as soon as I broke away from their expectations, I started to appreciate my grades more. I'll leave the real comforting words for Kazuha to say but NO ONE SHOULD EVER be disappointed in yourself if you tried your best. Thank you for your support and the request, I hope the story makes you feel better. Enjoy!

ps: I took into account the fact that not everyone has a mother and a father and not everyone has two parents at all, so only one parent is mentioned here and they are left gender neutral so it's easier to picture yourself in the story.

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"(Y/N). This is not at all what I expected. What happened to you?" Your parent asked sternly.

"Well, I--"

"I don't want to hear any excuses. Your predicted grades were much higher than this!" They said, raising their voice.

"I'm sorry, I--"

"Sorry is not going to improve your results! Do you really think that now is a good time to be slacking off? You have one more exam period before university. I don't care if you pass those exams, I want you to excel. And if you don't, you are not attending Sumeru Academia, whether they accept you or not. I am not paying for you to study overseas, only for you to get mediocre grades." They said, making you even more anxious than before the exam.

"But I got above the average!"

"By two percent! And the average was low." Your parent said, narrowing their eyes slightly and upsetting you with their belittling gaze.

"Realistically--"

"Realistically? Realistically?! If you want to study realistically, you should find someone else to pay for your education. When you want to study successfully, you can come back." They slammed the stack of sheets that displayed your results on the table with a loud bang before folding their arms as you grabbed a jacket and stormed out of the house, tears running down your face.

You walked for a while in the night, before eventually finding yourself in an area you were less familiar with. After recognising it to be somewhere near your boyfriend's current residence off Beidou's ship, you made a beeline for his place, knocking on the door and hoping, praying he would be alone inside.

The door soon opened and Kazuha stood there, initially with a smile on his face but it soon dropped when he saw your expression.

"(Y/N)? What happened?" He asked.

"C-can I come inside?" You sniffled.

"Of course, Love. Come in." He said, ushering you into his quaint little place. You stood by the door that closed behind you before Kazuha pushed the coat you had lazily draped over your shoulder onto the floor and enveloped you in his arms.

You broke down in his embrace. You had done better than most of your fellow students, and frankly, you were kind of proud of your result. But it was foolish of you to think that your parent would accept anything but perfection. They said it was all for you, but you were doubting it. Did you even want to go to Sumeru Academia? You had had your heart set on it since you were a child, but maybe that was only because your folks always envisioned you going there.

"Why are you crying, my love?" Kazuha asked, sitting you down near the fire to warm you up and standing up to get you a blanket and a hot cup of tea.

"I'm not good enough." You mumbled. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have heard you. But your boyfriend could listen to the wind "talk" - he was very attuned to quiet and subtle noises.

"Nonsense." He smiled, bringing you the blanket as you listened to the water boil in the background.

"You're more than good enough. Everyone who knows you adores you - no one more than me, of course." Kazuha chuckled, eventually setting down two cups of tea and sitting in front of you on the floor.

"Public opinion won't improve my grades." You said, now more stoic than upset. You had almost become numb and desensitised to degrading comments that after you cried a little and calmed down, you'd be straight-faced and almost emotionless. It didn't feel good, but it was certainly better than feeling bad.

"So this is about school." Kazuha nodded, gesturing for you to continue explaining why had happened.

"They keep talking about my grades. They said I shouldn't be slacking and that I'm not going to get to Sumeru Academia and that they want me to do better...maybe I'm interpreting it wrong. Maybe they're trying to encourage me?" You wondered aloud, thinking that somehow you were the problem. As soon as you said "they", Kazuha knew who you are referring to and sighed.

"Encouragement and doubt are two very different things. Unrealistic expectations, detrimental practices, emotionally, mentally or physically taxing improvement - none of that is going to help you. In fact, it'll make you feel worse. When you really think about what you have to do to achieve perfection, you'll only realise how unattainable it is. You'll fall into a perpetual spiral of intellectual destruction." Kazuha said.

"Then how the hell am I gonna get the best results?" You asked worriedly.

"You won't. No one will ever get the best results because more people and more previously unforeseen factors will come into play. What you can achieve is your best results. Your grades are a product of you, not the other way around. They are no measure of your worth, they cannot define you, and they do not have to be a part of you. If you don't ace one subject, you don't have to hang on to that or turn it into some strange part of you. You can't cling to it, it's impossible to cling to a piece of the past forever. That's not to say you don't learn from it, but it doesn't need to become some villainous trait - in the end, it is only a grade." Kazuha shield at you. His words warmed your heart more than the fire or tea, and they even seemed to dry your tears and allow you to mirror his expression.

"And at the very least, you can hold your head high knowing that you had the strength to participate in an exam when not everyone does. You went in, sat through it, attempted the questions and walked out. Not everyone has the courage to stay; some don't even have the courage to start. That goes for any endeavour you face." Kazuha said, before inching closer to you.

"Feeling any better?" He asked. You nodded instantly. Of course, Kazuha's wise and whimsical words had bettered your mood, it was Kazuha for Archon's sake.

"Good. Maybe we could go for an evening stroll? I'll treat you to dinner if you haven't eaten." He offered.

"Can...can we just stay like this for a little longer? I think being alone with you is nicer." You smiled.

"Of course, Angel. Anything you want."

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this was less physical fluff than I intended, but I think I do comfort with direct words and dialogue best, so I hope this is okay. honestly, everything kasha said is what I would've wished to hear when I was in this situation. I'll probably post a rant about my own exam experiences because this request got all my past feelings to resurface.

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 22

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 22 - This Venerable One's Shizun is Getting Angry

When Chu Wanning heard this, he was so angry that he could barely keep himself from retracting Tianwen and slashing the Chen couple. But he couldn't open his eyes to confront them. Once he opened his eyes, the barrier would be broken. The Return to Truth barrier could only trap a ghost once. If his interrogation was interrupted, he wouldn't be able to listen to any more of Luo Xianxian's story.

All he could do was contain his overwhelming rage and continue listening to Luo Xianxian.

After she died, her soul entered the underworld, unaware and confused.

The only thing that she could make out was a woman wearing red and green robes with facial features that resembled the Master of Ceremonies Ghost enshrined in a temple. The Master of Ceremonies Ghost stood in front of her and asked her in a soft voice: "You and Chen Bohuan couldn't share a bed in life. Would you like to share the same grave in death?"

She hurriedly agreed: "Yes. . . Yes please!"

"Then I can let him come join you right away. What do you think?"

Luo Xianxian wanted to blurt out a yes, rushing to agree, but suddenly remembered something and froze. "Am I dead?"

"Yes. I am the Master of the Underworld Ghost. I can give you the destiny you deserve and fulfill your long-cherished wish."

Luo Xianxian was startled: "Then, if he comes to join me, will he. . . also die?"

"Yes. However, if loves persists in the afterlife, life and death are irrelevant. What difference does it make?"

Chu Wanning heard this, he thought to himself that he had been right; this Master of Ceremonies Ghost would persuade others to make a wish so that she could reap the benefits. This immortal was truly diabolical.

Although Luo Xianxian died unjustly, she hadn't yet become a malevolent ghost, so she repeatedly shook his head: "No. It wasn't his fault. You can't kill him."

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost smiled compassionately: "And what did you get in return for this kindness?" It didn't force Luo Xianxian to do anything. As an immortal being, they could persuade someone to make a bad wish, but they couldn't force them. Its figure gradually faded away, its voice becoming hazier and hazier.

"Return to the world in seven days. During those seven days, go and see how the Chen family is faring. After that, I'll ask you again if you still have no regrets about your decision."

Seven days later, the day arrived.

Luo Xianxian's soul returned to a conscious form and returned to the world of the living.

Following the old road, she eagerly walked towards the Chen house to see her husband for the last time.

Unexpectedly, the Chen house was decorated with lights, and outside the courtyard, there were fireworks. Bridal flowers were decorating the halls. and a big "double happiness" banner was hanging in front of the main hall. Madam Chen was radiant, not appearing sickly in the slightest. She was smiling and instructing the servants to wrap the bouquets with red silk.

Who. . . was having a wedding?

Who. . . were the bride and groom?

Who. . . no one was engaged, what was going on?

Who. . .

She walked through the busy crowd, listening to the sound of people in the world of the living.

"Congratulations, Madam Chen. Your son is getting engaged to the daughter of the county magistrate. When's the wedding?"

"Madam Chen, you're so fortunate."

"Yao Qianjin is truly the lucky star of the Chen family and they aren't even official yet. Madam Chen, you look so much healthier already."

"Your son and Yao Qianjin are a match made in heaven. I'm so jealous, hahahaha."

Her son. . . Her son. . .

Which son?

Which one was marrying the daughter of the Yao family?

She shuttled back and forth across the familiar front yard, growing more and more frantic, looking for that familiar figure in the midst of all the laughter.

Then she found him.

In front of the peony flowers in the back hall, Chen Bohuan stood with his hands behind his back with a haggard face and sunken cheeks. However, he was dressed in red. Even though it wasn't a traditional wedding outfit, it was a Caidie Town custom. When a prospective son-in-law comes to propose marriage, he should wear this type of red gown.

Was he. . . going to propose. . .?

The decorations in the whole house, the strings of gold and silver beads, was it all. . . was it all from Chen Bohuan, her husband, as a dowry for the daughter of the Yao family?

She suddenly recalled the time when they got married.

There was nothing but two people that shared one heart - nothing else.

There was no master of ceremonies, no bridesmaids, and no dowry. The Chen family weren't wealthy at that time and didn't even own a decent set of jewelry. He went into the yard and picked a delicate orange blossom from under the orange tree they had planted together and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

She asked him: "Does it look good?"

He said it looked beautiful. After a moment of silence, he stroked her hair with some sadness and told her: "You deserve so much better than this."

Luo Xianxian smiled and pursed his lips, saying that it didn't matter.

Chen Bohuan told her that when he married her three years later, he would hold a lively wedding banquet. He would invite people from all over the world. He would have her make a grand entrance on a large sedan chair. He would give her gold and silver to wear, and the dowry gifts would fill the entire main hall.

Those vows still echoed in her ears. Now, all those promises have come true, the hall filled with gifts and guests.

He was getting married, just not to her.

A monstrous flame of anger and sorrow surged through her. Luo Xianxian screamed, trying to tear at the hanging red silk in the room.

But she was a ghost; she couldn't touch anything.

Chen Bohuan seemed to vaguely notice something. He turned around, staring at the silk moving despite there being no wind. His eyes were dull and hollow.

His little sister came over, a white jade hairpin clipped on the side of her bun. She didn't know who she was secretly mourning by wearing it.

She said: "Big brother, go to the kitchen to eat something. You haven't had a proper meal in days. You have to hurry up and go to the county magistrate's house later to propose. Your body won't hold up."

Chen Bohuan suddenly asked without thinking: "Sister, did you hear someone crying?"

". . . What? No, brother, I think you're still. . ." She gritted her teeth and didn't finish her thought. Chen Bohuan still stared at the fluttering silk sheets.

"How is my mother? Is she happy? Has her illness been cured?"

". . . Brother."

". . . I'm glad she's feeling better." Chen Bohuan stood there, muttering to himself. "I already lost Luo Xianxian, I couldn't live without my mother."

"Brother, go eat something. . ."

Luo Xianxian wailed. She yelled and bawled with her head in her hands.

Don't go. . . don't go. . . please don't go. . .

Chen Bohuan said: ". . . Alright."

The tired figure disappeared around the corner.

Luo Xianxian stood alone in a daze, large tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, she heard the brothers of the Chen family who killed her approaching. The second eldest brother and the younger brother were whispering to each other.

"Mother is finally happy. Finally, things are going our way."

"Right? She pretended to be sick for half and year. Now that that cursed bitch is gone, how could she not be thrilled?"

The younger brother tsked and said, "How come she died? We wanted to force her out, not kill her. Was she really so stupid that she couldn't even find someone to help her?"

"Who knows. She was weak, just like her rotten father. It's not our fault that she died. Even though mother pretended to be sick to get rid of her, our family has its own struggles. Think about it, when the options county magistrate’s daughter and some pauper girl, only a fool would choose the latter. Besides, even if Yao Qianjin is a brat, she's got enough money to go around."

"Yes, she's so dumb. She didn't want to live so she let herself freeze to death. No one could've saved her."

The words drifted to her ears.

After Luo Xianxian died, she finally understood the so-called "Divine Fate". She was completely broke and couldn't compare to the county magistrate's daughter who was so noble and honourable.

Only a fool would choose the pauper girl.

She finally snapped.

She returned to the Master of Ceremonies' temple full of hatred and resentment.

She died there. Unlike how weak and helpless she was when she died, she returned with overwhelming hostility.

She used to be such a kind person, but now, all the hatred and evil that had been built inside her while she was alive came flooding out. She roared, her eyes turning red, her soul trembling.

She said: "I, Luo Xianxian, would like to give up my soul and follow the path of wickedness. I only ask you to avenge me! I want the Chen family - I don't want you to kill them!!! I want. . . I want to let my beastly mother-in-law kill her sons by her own hand! All her sons!!! I want Chen Bohuan to go to hell with me!!! Let him be buried with me!!! Do it for me!!! I hate them! I hate them!!!!"

The eyes of the clay sculpture on the shrine shifted and the corners of its mouth slowly raised.

A hollow voice echoed through the temple.

"I have heard your prayers. It will be as you wish. As an evil spirit - kill all those that you resent -"

A piercing blood-red light flashed, and Luo Xianxian couldn't remember anything after that.

However, Chu Wanning already what happened next. After that, the Master of Ceremonies Ghost manipulated Luo Xianxian's spirit to possess Madam Chen and force her to kill each member of the Chen family.

The red coffin on the top of the mountain, the reason why Chen Bohuan was dug up, naturally, was because the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was fulfilling Luo Xianxian's greatest wish - "Let Chen Bohuan and I be buried together." Moreover, it deliberately placed the coffin on the property of Chen Bohuan and his new wife as an act of spiteful revenge.

As for the floral scent in Chen Bohuan's coffin, it was the scent of the butterfly fragrance powder that Luo Xianxian had worn before her death. The resentment and fragrance in the coffin were both extremely strong because Luo Xianxian's soul was resting alongside Chen Bohuan inside it.

Luo Xianxian had no family. According to the customs, if a person like that dies, their bones should be cremated instead of buried. Therefore, she had no physical body and could only be contained within the coffin by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost. That's why, when Chu Wanning opened the coffin with his willow vine, Luo Xianxian had escaped the coffin's containment. Her soul flew away, and it was difficult to recapture. It was a situation of "a closed coffin being heavy with resentment but an open coffin being light".

But during the illusion, why did other people have dead bodies as their partners but Chen Bohuan only had a paper-mache ghost bride?

Chu Wanning thought for a moment and figured out this much:

The Master of Ceremonies Ghost didn't break its promise. The paper-mache bride was the "physical body" that it gave Luo Xianxian. It was a vessel so that Luo Xianxian could be buried with Chen Bohuan.

Everything was clear.

Chu Wanning looked at the weak and helpless girl in the barrier. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say.

Elder Yuheng wasn't particularly good at comforting words. He couldn't think of anything, so he stayed silent, not having anything he could say.

The girl stood in the vast darkness with her soft round eyes open.

Chu Wanning looked at her eyes and couldn't bear it. He wanted to leave. He didn't want to take another look. He was about to open his eyes and leave the Return to Truth barrier.

Then the girl suddenly spoke.

"Lord Yama. I. . . I have something else I want to tell you."

Chu Wanning: ". . . Alright."

The girl suddenly lowered her head, covered her eyes, and cried. She said softly, "Lord Yama, I don't know what I did after that. But, I. . . I really didn't want to kill my husband. I didn't want to be an evil spirit. I really. . ."

"I didn't steal the oranges. I really am Chen Bohuan's wife. And I truly, truly didn't want to hurt anyone either."

"I truly didn't want anyone to get hurt. Please believe me."

Her voice choked and trembled, her words breaking.

"I. . . didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

Why is it that, in this life, almost no one believed me?

She sobbed and screamed. Chu Wanning's voice sounded low in the darkness. He didn't say much, but he said it with conviction.

"Okay."

Luo Xianxian was shocked.

Chu Wanning said: "I believe you."

Luo Xianxian wiped her tears with her hands indiscriminately but couldn't hold them back. Hiding her tearful face, she lowered her head and bowed her head in his direction in the darkness.

Chu Wanning opened his eyes.

After he opened his eyes, he didn't say anything.

Time in the barrier wasn't the same as in reality. He had stayed there for a long time but, for the people waiting outside, it had only been a moment. Mo Ran hadn't returned yet. The few remaining people in the Chen family were still looking at him with bated breath.

Chu Wanning withdrew Tianwen and said to Madam Chen: "I'll avenge you. You can find peace."

Madam Chen froze and opened her blood-red eyes, and suddenly fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out cold.

Chu Wanning raised his head again. His eyes swept across Chen's face then landed on the youngest son. His voice didn't waver, and it was still frighteningly cold.

"I'll ask one last time." He said each word slowly and decisively. "Did you really not recognize whose voice that was?"

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[lxngbottom]

Mute | N.L.

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville tries to change that.

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of mental illness/anxiety, some angst (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,298

thank you for all of the love on my last two one shots!! it means so much ty ty okay now enjoy

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“trauma, maybe? my dad’s friend who’s a muggle doctor said that trauma can completely change a person.”

there the three boys were again, sitting at the gryffindor table in the great hall, trying to understand the girl who would always sit ways away from everyone else.

“maybe she’s just really shy!” dean quickly replied, shooting down seamus’s suggestion. seamus shrugged, and took a large gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

“no! longbottom is “shy”, but y/n? i haven’t heard her say one single thing since second year.”

neville listened in on his friend’s conversation, only letting his eyes leave them when he went to take quick glances at the girl of the hour.

y/n was to put it into simple terms... mute. it was very difficult to hear her utter a single vowel, let along a whole statement. everyone at hogwarts knew that she was not just quiet or shy, but completely silent. people wondered how one person could go without speaking for so long. she was a bit jittery, seemingly nervous all the time. if someone shot a single look at her and she noticed, she would look away without even giving the person a chance to smile or wave.

weirdly, she had always been this way. since the first day of first year, she kept to herself, not even attempting on taking the chance of getting to know someone who might become a life long friend. it really got under people’s skin when they asked her a question, and she just simply wouldn’t respond. so, this caused for students to completely avoid her. it seemed that it was a collective agreement among the school that no one should even try speaking to her. and that was because, again, they would never get a reply.

out of these students, neville longbottom seemed to be the most intrigued. he would never forget the first time he heard her speak. it was one day in third year, of course neville was clumsily making his way down the hallway. as he did so, he didn’t notice that y/n was walking straight for him. and of course, she didn’t notice him either until they both crashed into each other’s bodies. neville fell back onto the ground, letting a small huff escape from his lips. surrounding students cackled at the two as they continued walking. when he looked up, he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she quickly reached down to get her books.

“uh—merlin... sorry about that...” he stuttered, reaching down as well to help her. she glanced at him, but quickly looked away when he noticed. of course, she stayed silent. “are you alright?”

she nodded her head, and stood up with the books in her hand. “yeah. thanks.” and with that, she rushed away from him, not even giving him a chance to say one more word.

he would never forget it. the way her voice was so soft and fragile. he had honestly wished he could hear it more.

admittedly, neville felt bad for her. every time he looked at her, something nagged at him about the girl. every time she got called out in class to answer a question, he would panic for her as her face would drop.

she looked so lonely. she would sit in the back of the class always. he had seen her in the library quite often, just reading, sitting all alone at a table. he hated that she seemed so alone.

he wanted to change that.

—

the day was quiet. only the sounds of birds outside and the wind blowing through the trees on the castle grounds. saturdays were always the perfect days for going to the library, studying, or just to read a good book. that was y/n’s plans consisted of most of the time.

y/n made her way through the large halls, waving discreetly to the paintings on the wall. it seemed as if the lively pictures were the only people that ever respected her, told her hello as she walked by.

her fingers were tightly grasped around two books, as she was planning on returning both of them. her face didn’t show it, but she was quite excited to find two more books to add to her reading list. reading had always been considered an easy escape to y/n. pages filled with so many words, but told so many different stories. stories about love, heartbreak, dragons, princesses, noble wizards, y/n enjoyed all of it.

as she daydreamed about her next book, she hadn’t noticed the small group of students exchanging glances and laughing as they saw her approaching. before she knew it, her books were being slapped out of her hand, and hit the ground with a loud noise.

she looked up finally and saw draco malfoy standing right in front of her, hands in his pockets, chuckling with all of his friends from his choice of action against her.

“you gotta be quicker than that, mute!” he teased, and y/n bent down to grab the two books. when she stood up and met eyes with him again, he shook his head at her. “can’t think of a good comeback? or are you just too scared to say anything?”

she held the books tight to her chest, trembling from malfoy’s presence.

“thought so. see you around, mute.” he spat her way, but not forgetting to bump into her figure as he walked away, his friends following behind him.

y/n sighed, and turned around to make sure they were completely gone.

she started her journey once again, making her way to her sanctuary that people called the library.

when she arrived, she returned her books to madam prince silently, and this didn’t shock the librarian whatsoever. she was used to y/n coming in, checking out countless books, and checking them out and returning them muted.

as y/n skimmed the aisles, she came to the conclusion that she would once again read one of her favorite books. she had read it about seven times, but she could never get over how beautifully written it was. it was truly the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and she knew she would probably read it once more after this time around.

but when she went over the familiar bookshelf, the book in question wasn’t in the place it always was. she furrowed her eyes brows, and checked the rest of the shelves near just to make sure it hadn’t been misplaced. but of course, it was no where to be found.

malfoy had provided her with a sour experience already that day, and now she couldn’t even check out her favorite book? she already knew where this day was going, and she frowned in disappointment at the thought.

y/n had settled on some other fantasy novel that seemed to acquire to her taste. she checked it out, and made her way to the back of the library. she always went where it was secluded, almost no one else but her present. but little did she know, behind all the shelves she was walking by, someone followed her.

she finally found a small table to sit down at, and she did so with relief. it always made her so nervous to think that she might have to actually sit with other people one day. but luckily, that day wasn’t today. or so she thought.

because as a few minutes went by, and her eyes were glued to the book pages in front of her, she heard a chair being pushed. she looked up, and met eyes with neville longbottom. he shot her a small smile before speaking,

“can i sit here? it’s okay if not, everywhere else just feels a bit stuffy.”

she stared at his features for a moment, thinking back to the day when she bumped into him in the hallway. she gave him a single nod, and luckily, he didn’t miss it.

as he sat down in front of her, she gulped heavily. she hated being around others, even in a peaceful place such as a library.

a few minutes went by, the silence filling in the gap between the two. neville would glance at her a few times over his book, and she seemingly seemed lost in her own world. but at some point, she finally did look away from the words on the pages. she looked at the book he was “reading”, and noticed the familiar cover. if she hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve let out an audible gasp.

he had her book.

she seemed to be staring for too long, because neville looked at her.

“have you read this before?” he suddenly asked, snapping her back into reality. “it’s actually pretty good. i’m not big on fantasy, but this isn’t too bad.”

yeah, it’s an amazing book. she knew that very well.

but of course, she didn’t express that into words for neville. she only snapped her eyes back to her book, and neville frowned a bit.

did he say something wrong? he thought for sure that this was her favorite book. i mean, he had seen her with it more times than he could keep track of, so he could only assume.

“what’s that you’re reading? is it good?”

she looked up at him through hooded eyes, still not budging.

“well, anyways... i’m more of a herbology book lover. i love learning new things about plants. i think it’s really cool...”

y/n felt herself becoming confused, and almost bothered. she knew who neville was, but couldn’t understand why he was attempting to spark a conversation with her.

“i noticed that you like to read,” he mentioned, and y/n finally looked at him fully. “i mean—i see you here a lot, and you’re always reading from what i can tell. what’s your favorite genre?”

as neville attempted to get the girl to speak, he closed his book without looking. he realized that was a mistake when the heavy book closed onto his finger, and he let out a loud yelp.

as much as y/n tried, she couldn’t hold in the small giggle that fell from her lips. she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide it, but neville’s ears caught it.

“oh, you think my suffering is funny, huh?” neville joked, smiling out of triumph. she hadn’t spoke, but she laughed. and neville swore it was the most angelic thing he had ever heard.

she shook her head at his question, her cheeks turning a dark red from embarrassment. she had hoped he was okay, but nonetheless, it was funny.

the whole time they were in the library, neville rambled on about random things. he had brought up his interests in plants, making sure not to over explain his love for them. he talked about books, and random things that had happened to him and his friends during his time at hogwarts. he was making it his number one goal to get her to talk at least once.

but as darkness began to fall, and as curfew approached quicker and quicker by the minute, he hadn’t succeeded. he was quite shy at the fact that he had just sat in the library all day rambling to someone who never even spoke back. she had seemed to be listening, which took him by surprise. he had never had someone to listen to him as he spoke, let along not interrupt him in a conversation.

as much as she hated to admit it, y/n had a good time herself. she loved the way neville talked, how he explained things so deeply and with so much detail. he never seemed to miss a beat in a conversation, even if it was practically with himself. it made her realize that she wish she had the strength to speak. she wished she could respond to his questions without feeling her stomach churning.

the two left the library, their bags draped over their shoulders as they walked. y/n still had two books clutched into her hand, as she has checked out a random herbology book before leaving. neville smiled when she did so, feeling giddy inside that he had managed to spark an interest in her.

“that book is really good! it’s all about water plants! which are really cool, by the way. you should read up on gillyweed! it’s this really cool plant that—“ when he went to ramble on once more, he stopped himself. “never mind. i think i’ve talked a bit too much, today. wouldn’t you agree?”

for some reason, y/n wanted him to keep talking. it filled the silence that she considered her serenity, and she enjoyed every last word he spoke.

“well... i think this is where we part ways. do you need me to walk you back?” he asked, secretly hoping that she would say yes. but, she shook her head no. he was greatly dissatisfied, but, he tried his best to understand.

“oh, okay. well... goodnight, y/n. maybe we can hang out in the library some other time.”

he smiled at her, not expecting a word, but only catching a glimpse at the red that rose to the tips of her ears.

neville began to walk away, feeling a bit defeated.

suddenly, something that neville never wouldn’t expected:

“goodnight.”

he stopped in his place, and turned around. she covered her mouth with her books, but neville could tell that she was smiling. he couldn’t believe that the word had left her mouth.

“goodnight, y/n.” he repeated, and she shot him a smile before walking in the other direction. a genuine smile. the first one he had ever seen besides from her giggling.

he wanted to hear that voice, and those giggles more than she could ever have guessed.

[rocorambles]

Ignorance is Bliss

Pairing: Kageyama x reader, One-sided Atsumu x reader 

Genre/Warnings: Yandere Kageyama, NSFW, Toxic Relationship, Misogynistic Behavior and Thoughts, Mind Break, Implied Manipulation

Summary: Atsumu learns the hard way how true the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ is and he wonders how much simpler life would have been if he had never gotten involved with you. 

From what Atsumu knows of Kageyama Tobio from their high school tournament interactions, from what his cheerful orange-haired teammate tells him, and from their encounters in the professional circuit, he thinks he has a pretty clear picture of who the blue eyed setter is. So imagine his surprise when he meets you at a hangout Hinata has organized. 

You’re not the only female at the event, with many other attendees choosing to bring their significant others, and Atsumu has a blast trying to pair up all the unfamiliar faces with past and present opponents and teammates based on appearances and personalities alone. He’s on a roll, but pauses when he gets to you. 

There’s a wide grin spread across your face, your eyes excitedly shining as you vigorously nod at something Hinata is saying before you erupt into a boisterous, stomach busting laughter that echoes throughout the entire room. You’re wild, cheerful, fun, and if he didn’t know Bokuto was single, he’d automatically assume the two of you might be a couple with your similar radiant and untamed personalities. 

Maybe Tanaka, the baldy from Karasuno? No, he’s married to that pretty manager he was always obsessed with since highschool. 

Kuroo? The messy haired businessman seems like someone who wouldn’t mind a wild lover, but it seems unlikely from the way the cat-like man hasn’t even looked your way once the entire time. 

Before he can think of another guess, he freezes at the sight of Kageyama walking to your side, intimately pressed against you as he moves some food from his plate to yours, a slight upward twitch of his lips and an unfamiliar softness in his eyes as he gazes at you. 

No freaking way. 

When Atsumu thinks of the type of woman Kageyama would date, he thinks of sweet, well-mannered girls, caring and nurturing motherly types who would be patient enough to deal with the admittedly emotionally and socially challenged athlete and take of their idiotic, but well-meaning boyfriend. 

He doesn’t think of women like you. A woman loud enough to rival both Bokuto and Hinata. A woman as warm as the sun. A woman who can so easily ignore the stubborn setter’s barked commands for Hinata and her to quiet down and behave properly. 

Atsumu doesn’t miss the scowl, the hint of disappointment in blue eyes when you ignore the dark-haired setter. 

Looks like even though Kageyama’s “King of the Court” title hasn’t been used or brought up in years, some things never change. And Atsumu wonders how long the two of you will stay together before Kageyama’s need to be in complete control and authority destroys everything between the two of you. 

Not long, he thinks, as he weasels his way into the conversation, intent on getting to know you better so that when you come crashing down from Kageyama’s tyrannical rule, he can be the one to catch you and show you a life, a relationship where you can truly be loved and appreciated for exactly who you are, a kindred wild spirit like himself. 

Atsumu doesn’t see you much after that since both the Adlers and Jackals are incredibly busy with pro season, practicing, and traveling, but the two of you text back and forth constantly, hitting it off right away just as Atsumu knew you would. He’s quick to lunge for his phone with every ping, eyes constantly checking for new messages, chortling and smiling like a giddy fool in love with every text you send his way. 

The conversations start off amazingly, no usual awkward small talk or niceties usually associated with getting to know someone, and Atsumu feels like he can truly be himself, unfiltered as he rants to you about something stupid Osamu did that annoyed him, sends a dumb inappropriate joke your way, shyly tells you about his hopes and dreams. And his heart soars as you match his sincerity and openness, revealing more and more of who you are to him, making it harder and harder for him not to fall in love with you. 

But as time goes on, he swears you’re changing, and he’s not sure if it’s for the better. 

When you see him at events, practice games, and real matches, your ear-splitting grin turns into tiny demure smiles, your bone-crushing bear hugs you greet him with become polite bows, your rowdy laughter that could rival Kuroo’s hyena howls become soft giggles hidden behind a hand you raise to cover your mouth. 

Even your messages are changing and he glares at the properly punctuated and grammatically correct sentences you send him now, his crass jokes responded to with a boring and safe “haha” or completely ignored. 

You’re different now and Atsumu hates it. 

He hates the way Kageyama seems to proudly beam at your politer mannerisms. He hates what a perfect polished couple the two of you make. But mostly, he hates how he can feel you slipping further and further away from him. 

It’s not a surprise when he receives the expensive, high-quality letter in the mail, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less as the blond setter stares down at the beautiful winding cursive scrawled across the card in front of him, grimacing at the picture perfect engagement photos Kageyama and you had taken together and chosen to incorporate in the wedding invitation. 

The selfish child inside of him has half a mind to toss it all into the garbage, forget about it, forget about you. But then he remembers that fateful day and he knows he owes it to that raucous laughter and toothy grin he memorializes and reminisces on to suck it up and celebrate your big day, usher in the next chapter of your life while you end the portion of your story with him. 

The wedding venue is disgustingly cookie cutter perfect and Atsumu internally retches at how boring and normal everything is, so unlike the woman who had intrigued him and who he thought he knew.  

What happened to your dreams of eloping in a jaw dropping national park? 

What happened to your disdain towards getting married in a church by a pastor? 

He grimaces as he stiffly stalks down the aisle and plops down in a pew, waiting for the ceremony to start, waiting for this whole thing to be over, waiting to go home and forget any of this ever happened. 

It’s easy to zone out as the background music plays, as the speaker drones on and on, and he only looks on in mild interest as the groomsmen and bridesmaids make their way down the aisle, some familiar faces walking past him. But nonchalance turns to something nauseating, something terrifying within Atsumu when he stands up with the rest of the guests as you make your way down the red carpet. 

Is that really you? 

Logically he knows it must be you, facial features, body, and every other physical attribute matching exactly what he remembers of you. But your eyes…

Had they always been so empty? 

No. He knows they hadn’t and he briefly closes his eyes, remembering how vibrant, how fiery those two orbs used to be, feeling sick to his stomach when he opens his eyes and truly looks at you, looks at how vacant and lifeless your eyes are, looks at how perfectly trained and almost robotic your prim and proper steps are. 

It’s like you’re nothing more than a living and breathing doll and a sinking suspicion begins to build in his gut as he scrutinizes the black-haired setter carefully watching you as you make your way towards him. And Atsumu thinks he might throw up when he can’t help but notice how similar the look Kageyama is giving you is to the look Kita had given his German Shepherd when the dog had obediently performed a trick for his master.  

He knows it might be a crapshoot, knows it might be too late now that the ring around your fourth finger chains you to the blue-eyed setter, but regret and guilt for not noticing earlier and love for the woman he remembers drives him and he continuously messages you in earnest long after the wedding. He talks to you like nothing’s changed, hoping one of his awful jokes will elicit some type of reaction from you, praying that the photo he snaps of your favorite onigiri from Osamu’s restaurant sparks something in you, ignoring the painful sting he feels at your politely austere responses, not letting your emotionless replies deter him. 

But it’s no good and he can’t help how off his game he is when they play a practice match against the Adlers, can’t help the way his temper is even shorter than normal, can’t help how he lets his emotions inhibit his skills every time he sees Kageyama across the net. And when he’s finally benched and told to cool his head, all he can think of is what awful things had Kageyama done to break you down so thoroughly, slumping down in his seat with a towel over his head, mind spinning with its wild imagination. 

He’s so lost in his head that he doesn’t notice the sound of a whistle marking the end of the match, doesn’t notice the slight commotion as the two teams bow to each other, doesn’t notice the figure making its way towards him. But he does notice the way another pair of shoes enters his field of vision and he lifts his head, body instantly tensing as blue eyes regard him. 

“Come over for dinner tonight. She misses you.” 

You missed him? 

Hope blossoms in Atsumu’s chest and his heart is racing as he rings your doorbell, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. But he droops a bit at the impersonal cheery greeting you welcome him with as you beckon him in, graciously taking the flowers from him without even a second glance or spark in your eyes when you see the assortment he had painstakingly chosen, treating him like he’s just any visitor and not a close friend who you haven’t seen for months.

And suddenly Atsumu wonders if he really should have come, feeling lightheaded and disoriented as he watches you flutter around the kitchen, a pretty pink pristine apron wrapped around you as you hum to yourself as you slave over the stove, urging the two men to catch up while you cook dinner. 

It all feels surreal, like a dream. Bad or good? He can’t decide. It’s jarring to see the woman who always insisted on ordering in greasy junk food, who did everything in her power to never step foot in the kitchen, who always went on and on about equal rights for men and women, become a perfect stay at home housewife, tending to the needs of her husband before hers, serving Kageyama and him so obediently, so submissively. And yet, there’s something oddly...enticing about the whole scene playing out in front of him as twisted as he knows it sounds and he feels disgust at himself when bitter pangs of jealousy strike him. 

How can he be jealous of Kageyama? How can he even entertain the idea of being okay with this role you’ve been forced into? How can he be jealous when deep down he knows something’s not right? Knows that you would never have easily or willingly let yourself be molded into something so against everything you believed or thought? Knows that your spirit and mind have been thrashed and tweaked so much that you’re completely broken and mindless, a docile little puppet for Kageyama to completely control? 

But he can’t deny the longing and awe he feels as you gracefully set the table, ladling plates with piping hot delicious food, charmingly smiling as both men compliment the meal, fawning and hovering over them as you make sure their cups and plates are always filled, shooing them over to the comfy living room as you prepare dessert and coffee for them and wash the dishes. 

Atsumu’s throat goes dry when you literally kneel in front of both of them as you place the tray laden with mouth watering pastries you had just baked, coffee, milk, and sugar in front of both of them, eyes unable to look away from the way your neck naturally arches downwards in submission. And he almost whines when you stand up from your humble position on the floor. 

But he’s jolted back to his senses at the brisk command Kageyama directs at you, disbelief and fury grounding him when you don’t hesitate to obediently kiss your husband good night and retire to your room as ordered after wishing Atsumu a pleasant evening

The door to your bedroom has barely closed before he’s lunging at Kageyama, fists bunched up in the front of his shirt. 

“What the fuck did you to her?! She’s a grown woman. You can’t just order her around like a slave-”

He’s cut off as he’s abruptly shoved away and there’s a tense silence in the air as Kageyama scoffs and straightens out his shirt. 

“She isn’t just any woman. She is my wife. All I did was bring out her true potential, which is why you are going to stop talking to her. I didn’t put all this work and effort into perfecting her for you to come and ruin all her progress. She isn’t the same woman you knew, Miya. She’s a married woman now. A woman married to me. So do us all a favor and forget about her.” 

Panic builds in a frenzy inside the blonde setter’s chest. No no no. He can’t just give up so easily. He needs proof. He needs to help you. 

“There’s no way she willingly just changed. What the fuck did you do?” 

Bone chilling tension once again floods the room and Atsumu nervously shudders at the cruel smirk that spreads across Kageyama’s face. 

“Does it matter? The results are all that matters. Isn’t that what you used to say when Kita-san used to talk about process? Plus, it didn’t seem like you minded all that much when my ‘slave’ was kneeling in front of you.”

Bile rises in Atsumu’s throat and he can’t think, can’t breathe as he’s forcefully shoved out the front door, unable to deny the harsh truth of Kageyama’s words, unable to stop imagining the horrors you must have gone through. The rest of the night is a blur as he somehow makes it back home, shaky hands washing his face, brushing his teeth, body shivering and trembling from something other than the cold as he curls up under his covers. 

But safe in his own environment, his own home, his own bed, his mind wanders and he thinks back on the night. He thinks about how perfectly the back tie of your frilly apron accentuated the curve of your waist, hips, ass. He thinks about how nice it felt to be taken care of, to have everything being done for him as he sat back and relaxed. And his hand slips underneath his briefs as he thinks about how utterly angelic you looked on your knees in front of him, head and eyes demurely turned down, as he wonders if Kageyama has you trained just as well in the bedroom. 

If he had simply asked, would you have crawled between his thighs? 

He groans as his hand wraps around his cock, thumb playing with his tip as he imagines your tongue swirling around his head, spreading his pre-cum and your saliva everywhere as you greedily taste and lap at his length. And as he begins to stroke himself, he imagines it’s your throat taking him all the way in, he imagines your doey eyes peering up at him from underneath fluttering lashes, seeking approval, making sure you’re pleasuring your lover, your husband. 

God, it’s so easy to imagine replacing Kageyama, imagine being your husband, imagine having you as his perfect slutwife and his back arches, eyes seeing only white and stars, body pulsating with pleasure as he cums harder than he’s ever had before at the thought of using your body as he pleases every night, at the thought of you eagerly serving him day in and day out, at the thought of fucking you raw, breeding you, impregnating you with his seed, letting everyone know exactly who you belong to with your swollen pregnant stomach and leaking tits as your bear his children. 

But he chokes out a sob as thick white spurts splatter across his hand, a few teardrops leaking from the corner of his eyes as he buries his face in his pillow, self-loathing and disgust curling inside of him at his traitorous thoughts, a silent plea for forgiveness and a desperate prayer for you to at least be at peace echoing in his head as he cries himself to sleep.

[makeste]

About Deku: a criticism that i had seen used againts him is that he never morally struggle about his decisions and that he always does the right think, do you think that this is a flaw of the story, or just people having different personal tastes regarding the main characther.

for me, I definitely wouldn’t call it a flaw, if only because it’s completely intentional. the main character always saving the day in the end and never wavering from their convictions (which are almost always admirable) is a part of the genre. pick just about any other mc in shounen -- Luffy, Naruto, Goku, etc. -- and you’ll find the same.

now, that’s not to say that the criticism isn’t valid. but the thing is, to me it’s like criticizing horror for being too scary, or criticizing comedy for not taking things seriously enough. shounen mcs are supposed to have those idealistic convictions. they’re supposed to have strong morals. it’s a part of the genre. it’s a feature of the genre, in fact. it’s one of the reasons why people gravitate to these stories, because it’s comforting and dependable.

these mcs aren’t perfect, of course, but they almost always have strong, incorruptible moral cores, even if that sometimes makes them a bit less relatable. because the thing is, they don’t necessarily need to be relatable to everyone, but what they do need is to be someone that the average person will root for to succeed. not necessarily role models, but someone who the average person will side with and support. hence why the strong moral backbone is so important. shounen mcs are supposed to reflect all of those shounen virtues like hope and courage and determination and justice and empathy and compassion. all that heroic shit. they have to embody that. it kind of comes with the territory.

and it’s fine to dislike that, because a lot of people see it as overly preachy and unrealistic and boring to a degree, and that’s understandable. it is predictable, and that predictability can be a double-edged sword. it’s familiar and reassuring, but it can also be dull and lacking in suspense, and there isn’t always a way around that. and this does mean that the mc won’t always necessarily be the most complex or interesting character in the series. they tend to be characters you look up to and admire, as opposed to characters you relate to personally. which is fine of course, but it’s a big reason why mcs often rank second or third in popularity polls, because the characters that are the most popular tend to have a bit more moral complexity. but again, that’s just part of the genre though. it’s not the mc’s job to be relatable; their job is simply to be someone that we can root for.

so to get back to your question, as I said, I don’t think this is a flaw of the story, because to me that would imply a mistake in the writing, which this isn’t. it’s very deliberate, and anyone who’s read or watched enough shounen knows that this is par for the course. so while you might disagree about whether or not it should be, imo that becomes more of a general argument against the genre itself than against BnHA or Deku’s character in particular.

and for what it’s worth, while I do understand the criticisms against him, for me at least, Deku is a very interesting character. like, just speaking from a strictly personal and totally subjective standpoint, I like him. I find him interesting. I find his personality, character, and story interesting. I find his struggles interesting. and he does have them, even if they’re not always of the “right vs wrong” variety. just because you know the right thing to do doesn’t mean it’s always easy. just because you ultimately wind up making the best decision doesn’t mean that the struggle is meaningless or boring, at least not to me. Deku often finds himself in situations where there is no easy way out. that’s interesting!! even if he does figure out a solution in the end, that doesn’t make the conflict any less interesting while it is going on. it’s just that it’s more of a “how is he gonna manage to get out of this one” suspense than a “will he make it out” suspense. that to me is the interesting part. when you’re reading about Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot solving a mystery, there’s never any doubt of whether they’ll solve it, because that’s not the focus of the story. the story is about how they will solve it. you’re not supposed to doubt whether the mc in shounen will succeed in the end, because it’s never been about that. the question isn’t will they. the question is how.

and I personally find the how of Deku’s story to be fascinating. this is a young boy who’s had heroic ambitions all his life, but who sometimes questions his own worthiness to fulfill them. he has a power that might be the world’s best hope against the strongest evil the world has ever known, but he’s inexperienced and has trouble controlling that power. he has an admirable need to save and protect others, but that same need makes him reckless, and occasionally puts him at great risk. he has a tendency to be short-sighted, and to make decisions that save others in the short term, but make things more difficult in the long term (take the current status of his arms, for instance -- using them against Tomura was a gamble that didn’t pay off, and in doing so he may have damaged them beyond repair).

and even though it’s the job of a shounen mc to bring all of the other characters together, this is the one thing he still hasn’t personally grasped yet, as he’s still stuck in the “I can’t put anyone else at risk so I’ll just have to do it all alone” stage of his development, and is going to need help in order to finally progress to the “everyone else is aware of the risks and prepared to make those sacrifices just like me, so I’m going to have to trust them and let them help me because it will take all of us in order to succeed” final, Enlightened stage. this is shaping up to perhaps be his greatest personal challenge, and it’s something that for my part I find very compelling. all of these flaws are compelling to me, actually. I don’t know if they count as “real” flaws to everyone or not, but frankly I don’t care. they’re interesting to me, and I could read about that shit all day.

and so for me personally, it doesn’t matter as much whether he’s morally conflicted or suffers too much from What A Good Person syndrome or whatever lol. because so far at least, that hasn’t affected my fondness for him at all. there are plenty of other things I find relatable about him, and the struggles he does go through have plenty of weight to me. ymmv! but to me he is extremely likable, and I enjoy reading about him, and I’m invested in his story and want him to succeed. and those are all of the character metrics I care about. I think that objectively, he’s a good shounen mc, and subjectively, he’s interesting and I like him. and I don’t really have a good, clever/punchy way to end this meta lol, so I guess I’ll just leave it at that.

[knjoodles]

sallang; taehyung | 01

pairing: singlefather!taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

recommended song: come on get higher by matt nathanson

word count: 2K

warnings/author’s note: this first chapter is slightly suggestive. nothing that i’d consider smut-worthy, but a warning never hurts! i’m also starting this as a mini-series, with short chapters and an overall short story. glad to be back!

summary: handsome, intelligent, fashionably late: taehyung seems to be a total package, and you’re all for it. that is, until his rain-checks and delayed appearances become so frequent that you feel left in the dark. what could he possibly be hiding?

sallang - a word describing the manner of the wind blowing lightly.

lowercase intended

this is a major waste of my time is what you thought as you rhythmically tapped your fingers against the clothed wooden table of a local restaurant, your knee bouncing impatiently against the floor, your free hand holding your head, glancing around in pure boredom. with how much time you’d spent staring at the wall beside you, you’d probably noted every color its paint compiled. it was your first date with a man from tinder who you realized was way out of your league — and you began to fear that he realized it way before you did.

snaking your phone from your back pocket, leg still bouncing, a deep sigh escaping your lips, you opened his profile once again. “kim taehyung, twenty-five, huh?” you filed through his tab once again, mumbling as you read. “likes reading, going to the beach… do you like being late, too?” you hissed, “because, from the looks of it, its like you get off on—”

“excuse me?”  

your thoughts of innermost annoyance suddenly subsided at the sound of a deep, masculine voice from above you. your head darted upwards to find none other than kim taehyung standing in black slacks with a complementary white shirt to match, his chest rising and falling, almost like he’d run to your date. “are you (y/n)? i’m taehyung… from tinder?” his eyebrow pricked up as he finished his sentence, an embarrassed smile cracking across his face. you stared at him for a moment, taking in the man standing before you. (y/n)? upset at kim taehyung? never. seeing him in person, you’d almost completely forgotten you were irritated.  

“yeah, that’s me. have a seat,” you smiled awkwardly, chuckling softly. you watched as taehyung hooked his casual blazer, previously wrung lazily around his arm, onto his chair. he sat down quietly, moving his seat closer to the table, adjusting his glasses and jet black hair. a moment of silence fell between the two of you, taehyung picking up his menu to appear preoccupied in the dinner menu. you smiled to yourself, catching glimpses of his eyes blinking rapidly as he excitedly scanned the text, a habit that’d already made itself known. you began to notice how he’d glance up at you every so often, chewing his lip, flustered, almost as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words to do it.

“i’m sorry for being so late,” he admit, sighing. “i had something to take care of earlier, and it took a lot longer than i’d hoped,” he set his menu down, toying with its edge with his finger. “i...” he paused, “i apologize. i know it must’ve been inconvenient for you.” you took this moment to eye taehyung's hands, slender and dainty, his fingers long and adequate.  

you laughed at his slightly frantic tone. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. you’re here now, right? let’s focus on that. you wanna tell me a little more about yourself, ot should i go first?” you assured, smiling comfortingly. “your bio only tells me so much.”

“uh, okay!” he nodded, resting his hands on the table. “well, i’m taehyung, i recently received my bachelor’s and i’m aiming for a phd in english, i don’t care for coffee all that much, i love pretty much all animals you can find, and… i’m 5’11".” he introduced himself with detail as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, pulling them up to only reach past his elbows. “how about you?”

“oh, my turn?” you questioned, earning a giggle from the man facing you. “i guess it’s only fair. i’m (y/n), i’m pursuing law as of now, we can lay low on coffee if you’d like — i don’t really mind. i like going on simple dates, i love music recommendations, i love musicians, and i’m significantly shorter without these heels on.” you finished, content that either taehyung had a really bad sense of humor or that your finishing line made a better impression than you’d thought it ever could. 

“does this fulfill your requirement of a simple date?” taehyung inquired playfully, lightly patting the table.

“it does,” you replied, tone flirtatious. you noticed taehyung eyebrow raise and jaw tighten at your response as he cracked a smirk, entertained at the shift in energy. that look jumbled your insides, but there was no time for that. you expelled those thoughts from your mind as you cleared your throat, silently scolding yourself. your moment was interrupted by a waitress, the same one who’d pitifully watched you poke at the complimentary sourdough bread slices with an empty seat in front of you. offering to kindly take your menus and your orders, the two of you obliged. as she scurried away from your table, a notepad with messy handwriting scribbled across it dangling from her waist apron, you turned back to taehyung, whose eyes were glued to you, one of his hands caught in his hair as he ran a hand through it. “hey,” he muttered, his voice deep, his eyebrow habitually twitching upwards once more. was he trying to make you unravel in the middle of your date?

“oh my god,” you laughed, trying to shake off how flustered you were. “you can’t just do that and expect me to be okay!” you joked.

“do what?” he chuckled in return. “the deep voice? i can’t control that; it just happens sometimes,” he smiled at his lap, looking back up at you soon after. “you said you were interested in musicians?”

“i mean, it’s not a necessity, but yeah, i find musicians especially interesting.” you explained, reaching for your glass of cold water, ice half melted.  

“i don’t want to brag, but when i was in high school, i was in a band.” he grinned as your jaw dropped. your mind raced with thoughts of how flawless he was, from how well he dressed to how every secret of his made him ten times more attractive. “it was just seven of us, seven of my friends. some would rap, some would sing. i was a singer, and i was really invested in the group. after we all graduated, the group kind of fell out, but we’re all still friends. cool, huh? i would play a little bit of everything, from piano to guitar. more piano, though.” he added, tilting his glass of water towards you, his attractive grin infectious.  

“that’s crazy,” you gasped, leaning forward in your chair. “ever thought of getting the band back together? you’ve got the looks!”

“the looks?” he repeated, laughing excitedly. “you’re giving me too much credit here, (y/n),”

“i don’t think you’re giving yourself enough,” you replied, raising your eyebrows, challenging his humble temperament.  

the two of you dined contentedly, taehyung's charismatic personality and contagious smile catching you every time. the conversation, surprisingly, were never boring, they flowed into one another the way good friends converse after not seeing each other for a long time. his mannerisms and aura struck you as welcoming and comforting, as if he was a bright, warm light you wanted to step into. he was safety embodied, he was a simple, gentle man, with kindness and love pouring out of his soul. to your multiple objections, taehyung covered the bill, still feeling guilty over arriving late. a part of you inexplicably pitied him; you felt as though you should’ve at least pitched in half. it may have just been your morals being challenged, but you almost felt obligated to pay him back.  

dusting off his trousers, taehyung arose from his chair, your date coming to a close. a wave of childish frustration fell over you: you didn’t want it to end, not yet! to your surprise, he glided to your side of the table, chivalrously offering his hand to help you up. you smiled and took his hand graciously, his endless good-natured acts perplexing you. who was this guy? other than being late, was there really a flaw?

as you arose from your seat, you decided the answer to the latter question was no. this was absolutely the best date you’d ever been on: he wasn’t obnoxious, he wasn’t boisterous, he didn’t ask you for anything afterwards… you’d been with your fair share of unforgettably horrible men. taehyung was different, though: it wasn’t that he was just more decent than the men you’d previously gone out with, it was his aura, his persona, it was something above physicality that made you fall for him more than you thought you should.  

“thank you for the lunch,” you smiled graciously as he accompanied you out of the restaurant, opening the door for you as well. “this was really enjoyable! i hope we can do this again soon.”

“me too! thank you for being so nice to me despite me being late.” he returned your kind grin before grasping for his buzzing phone in his pocket, pulling it out to check an apparent text. “i, uh…” he swallowed, now visibly anxious. “would you like me to walk you to your car?” his tone completely different from his physical state.  

“i’m just over there!” you motioned to your car, stammering, confused by his sudden shift in energy. “if you have something important to get to, you go ahead!” he relaxed slightly, thanking you kindly and pulling you into a warm embrace. it felt shocking, but not in a bad way — his very intimidatingly handsome appearance contrasted with how gentle he had been with you. should you have liked him this much on the first date alone?

“i’ll see you soon! i can text you my number on tinder later. thank you again!” he jogged backwards, still making eye contact before he finished his statement, where he then turned completely and began dashing towards his car. you found him charming and funny and it made you smile.  

spinning on your heel to walk towards your car, you spun the chain of your car keys on your finger, the thought of taehyung still with you. he’d been perfect: good-hearted, humble, witty… you could go on. you sat quietly in the front seat of your car, thumbing the leather of your steering wheel. part of this felt very suspicious — how could someone be this perfect? how could someone be this enjoyable, this wonderful, this considerate? you didn’t want to feel this way about him as he felt wholly genuine, but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of possibly being lied to. was he messing with you? he absolutely could be. what would you know?

you'd thought yourself into a corner. suddenly, you felt very bad, sitting alone in your car in a silent parking lot. you closed your eyes tightly and sighed loudly, trying to expel as much upset as you could from your body. you’d just had an amazing date! you shouldn’t be feeling this bad afterwards. taking a moment to collect yourself once more, you started your car, dusting yourself off before driving yourself home, the scent of taehyung’s faint cologne lingering in your mind.

i missed u guys :}. enjoy this piece from me!

[aminiatureworld]

Melusine

Characters: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,221

Warnings: Brief depiction of pseudo-drowning

Premise: In which the reader’s somewhat inexplicable fear of water prompts questioning

Author’s Note: This prompt reminded me of the book (and series) The Tail of Emily Windsnap, which, if you haven’t read at least the first book, you totally should read as it’s just really a wonderful read. The descriptions of the ocean are especially atmospheric. Anyways, as for the prompt, I had a lot of fun. I tried to write a mermaid story in middle school and while it didn’t go that well I have a lot of nostalgia for the mermaid genre. Though this was more about the discovery than actually being a mermaid.

Also the title is a pseudo-historical reference.

Albedo

The first time it had happened Albedo had brushed off the whole incident as completely explainable. After all, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t explained what had happened.

You two had been sitting on one of the craggy hills of the Whispering Woods, you sprawled on the grass, Albedo attempting to paint a landscape of Mondstadt, one of the more ambitious paintings in his current portfolio. Especially since he had traded his more opaque oils for the gentler tones of watercolors. At one point he must have made some sort of noise of frustration, for you lifted yourself out of the shade and made your way over to the canvas.

“That looks absolutely lovely Albedo!” Your smile had always had a calming affect on the alchemist, and this time was no different. Albedo could feel the tension slowly leeching away from his shoulders.

“Do you think so? I’m afraid that I still can’t handle all the odd shadows the buildings cast.”

“The buildings look perfect to me! Though if you feel that way, maybe you could lighten the side facing the sun a little more instead of darkening the area over here? So the shade doesn’t become too muddy.”

“You have a wonderful eye, you know,” Albedo replied, smiling at the way your mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had drawn as well. Reaching for the bowl of water next to him Albedo went to water his brush a little more before trying again.

Unfortunately that’s when things appeared to have taken a turn for the wrong. Instead of reaching over the bowl Albedo’s elbow collided with the glass. Though the grass was soft and close enough to prevent any damage, that didn’t stop all the muddied water from spilling out over the brim and right over you. You let out a sort of squeak, and for a moment Albedo though it was just the initial shock, but then the expression on your face came into view and Albedo could immediately sense you were seconds away from panic.

“Is something wrong?”

“I, I don’t like water very much,” you let out a strained laugh. “I just, I don’t know. I really, really don’t like water.”

“I’m so sorry,” Albedo immediately replied.

Taking off his coat he did his best to dry you off, wiping off your arms and attempting a valiant effort with your now sopping clothes. Though you assured him that it would be alright the alchemist could sense those were only platitudes, and it wasn’t until you seemed significantly calmer that Albedo turned to pick up the bowl and refill it in Cider Lake. And though a part of his mind wished to delve deeper into what had happened he pulled himself back, figuring it wouldn’t help you if he was suddenly enquiring over something you were afraid of.

Now perhaps that should have been the long and the short of it, but the revelation had begun to make Albedo see water everywhere and, more importantly, see how much it appeared to affect you every time you appeared to come in close contact with it.

Thankfully you didn’t seem to have trouble with water in glasses, at least as long as someone was actively drinking it. If not however you would glance at the glass every so often, as if it were your mortal enemy, waiting to catch you off guard to it might tip its contents all over your clothes. Other things, like obsessively drying your wands after washing them and draping layers of towels over your shoulders when you washed your hair, also became apparent. Suddenly Albedo couldn’t stop noticing your discomfort, and the more he noticed the more he wished he could do something about it.

“Exposure therapy?”

“Yes.”

You were sitting on Albedo’s desk, leaning slightly over your partner, a slightly bemused look on your face. It had been about three weeks since the incident, and finally Albedo thought he might have found some sort of solution to your problem. Now he eagerly pressed forward, figuring you’d understand once he’d explained everything fully.

“I know that it might seem counterproductive to subject you to what gets a frightened reaction out of you, but if you subject a person to something they’re afraid of in very small doses over a long period of time, usually they begin to feel a little less afraid of the thing in question. It’s sort of like how you can sometimes make allergies less serious by slowly exposing the patient to more and more of the allergen.”

“I understand where your line of thought is coming from Albedo, but I’m really not sure if this is the best idea for me.”

“I know that it might seem daunting at first. I would not bring up the topic if you didn’t seem so miserable sometimes. I worry that you might become so unhappy by your fear that it will become debilitating eventually. That is why I decided to bring up the option.”

“I really appreciate you going out of your way to think about me Albedo. I really do. I think what you’re trying to do is very kind and noble of you. But in all honesty I don’t think that’s going to work. You see, the way my fear works, I just don’t think that exposure is going to make it go away.”

“Are you sure?” Albedo pressed on, still hoping that you might see the benefit in what he was suggesting. “It won’t start with something drastic I promise. And at the end of the day, I think that it will help a lot.”

“I understand that, I really do, but like I said my fear doesn’t work that way.” You paused, as if sensing the sinking of your partner’s heart, before smiling slightly. “If it makes you feel any better I promise to give it some more thought. Alright?”

“Thank you,” Albedo replied, though in his mind he knew that you thinking about it probably wouldn’t change anything.

Thus the cycle continued, with Albedo growing more and more uneasy. He didn’t bring it up with you again, sensing it would be walking over some invisible line, but still his mind whirled in trying to understand what you meant. If your fear wasn’t simply irrational, then surely something must have happened once. Though the alchemist didn’t pry, surely if you wanted him to know you would tell him in your own time, he had to admit that sometimes his brain went off on various daydreams, as if trying to decide for itself what might have happened.

As it turned out, Albedo didn’t have to speculate for long. Nor did the truth come out the way that he had expected.

You two were on the very small dock at Cider Lake, checking the rafts were tied down properly before the beginning of the stormy season that wreaked havoc through Mondstadt once every year. Though normally you probably would have never done such a thing the Guild was spread thin, preparing for storms, though not nearly as fierce as Dvalin’s winds, that would blow shingles off roofs and destabilize the occasional out of place rock on the wall. As of such the task of shielding the boats used to carry supplies from the City to the larger Mondstadt region had fallen to you. Albedo had tagged along, knowing how uncomfortable the experience might make you feel, and unwilling to leave you alone in a state of anxiety.

“These remaining boats are the ones we need to tie down. They’re too big to be stored in the sheds inside the City.”

“I see,” Albedo replied, already moving to nail the tarp down on one of them as you secured the roping. Already the air seemed alive with the fresh smell of impending rain.

“It’s too bad really, we can’t guarantee these boats’ safety the way we can the others. Thankfully these ones are mostly insured by the Knights. Though really maybe we should build a larger shed,” you mused to yourself, keeping up the tell-tale stream of conversation that Albedo knew you used to distract yourself.

“Perhaps you can make a query via the Guild?”

“Perhaps,” you mused. “Or I might be able to ask Amber.”

Albedo replied that would be a good idea, turning to put another temporary nail onto the top of the longboat. All seemed alright for a moment, then there was a shriek and a terrific splashing sound. Whirling around Albedo had just enough time to find your head in the water before you seemed to seize up and your head dipped below the still crystal-clear waves.

Immediately Albedo stripped himself of his coat and dove in. Though no amazing swimmer himself the alchemist was hardly the worst at staying afloat, and even if he only knew a select few amount of swim strokes that paled in comparison to the idea of you drowning. Making his way over to you he fought the panic rising up inside of him, the part of his brain that said it would be much more difficult to rescue someone terrified of water.

However almost as soon as Albedo approached you he noticed that something was distinctly off. Firstly you didn’t seem like you were drowning, in fact you appeared quite graceful in the water, swishing softly back and forth. Secondly the reason for said grace quickly became apparent to Albedo. For in the spot where your legs should have been, indeed in the spot where your legs had been mere moment ago was something long and slightly shimmery and distinctly fish-like.

Letting his mouth fall open Albedo immediately hoisted himself up above the water, choking on the gasp of breath he had found himself taking. What was that, what in all of Teyvat was that? You were half fish. How were you half fish? Did such a thing even exist, for Albedo had certainly never heard of it! Though the alchemist later admitted that in the moment such fantasy creatures as merfolk had completely fallen out of his head, there was something distinctly different than reading about something in a book and seeing it in real life.

Dragging himself onto the shores of Cider Lake, Albedo waited for you to emerge, still breathing heavily from what had just passed. His brain seemed to shut off them, for he found himself with no questions to ask. You were a mermaid, you were simply a mermaid. There was nothing more to do or say about it.

Eventually you joined him on the beach. Albedo watched in an odd sort of fascination as your legs emerged from the scaley fin which your lower body was now made up of. For a moment individual spots of iridescent seemed to remain, but soon your limbs were back to normal, ignoring the fact that you were soaking wet.

“So now you know why I said exposure therapy wouldn’t work out,” you said, letting a grim sort of laugh escape your lips.

“You… you are a… a…”

“A merfolk, yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. “Not sure why I get stuck with the weird power that is more annoying than good but, you know, oops?”

Albedo could sense your vulnerability, but try as he might he couldn’t get the words to come out of his throat. For a moment he sat there, gasping like a fish, but finally the expression of muted misery on your face wormed its way into his brain and finally Albedo felt as if he had regained some ability to talk.

“I think it’s fascinating.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, really. And not just because this is something I’ve never experienced or seen before. Though it was really surprising, it was also wonderful. As an alchemist you study all the wonders and anomalies of nature, and in doing so you see all these differences aren’t just something to be written down, but they also beautiful. And so I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you replied, though you still seemed uncomfortable. “I just, yeah…”

Reaching over to find your hand in his Albedo squeezed your palm softly. For a moment you did nothing, then, slowly, you leaned your head on Albedo’s shoulder. Letting you stay there Albedo found himself wishing that he could convey all the emotions he felt in that moment to you.

“I know that it can be difficult to talk about things that you’ve kept secret, especially when you feel like they make you stand out in a bad way. But I promise, there is nothing wrong with that. And I hope if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way that I can apologize.”

“Thanks Albedo,” you murmured. “You don’t have to say sorry, but thanks anyways.”

“Always.”

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too.”

Albedo planted a soft kiss on your forehead. As the boats sat, woefully forgotten, the two of you basked in each other’s presence. For Albedo a mystery had been solved, and explanation given that, while not necessarily scientific, was certainly satisfactory. Yet at that moment he couldn’t care less about it. All he could think about was how lonely it must have been, and how, if he could help it, you would never feel isolated in your discomfort or in your secret ever again.

[to-star-lake]

Mars [ III ]

pairing | kth x reader genre | ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung word count | 3.2k rating/warnings | M, 18+

Quietly, he walked through the halls back to his room where he took a seat in the chair behind his desk. He could recall each and every second of the events that just transpired in painfully vivid detail, and yet it felt distant from him, as though it happened in a dream. It came and went, gone as quickly as the winds change, and was becoming polluted by his own unease, his own uncertainty.

He laughed dejectedly at himself, gliding the palms of his hands along his thighs, where you’d touched him. 

How absurd, he scoffed at himself, an agonizing realization rising to the top of his mind, it weighed down like a heavy boulder on his chest. How absurd that he should think himself a savior. How absurd that the story he told himself all these months was that he rescued you from an uncertain fate that night. How absurd that he should think when he brought you here, away from the battlefields and burning towns, that you would feel safe and free with him. 

“You’re nothing but a killer.” 

He wondered if after all this time this was still how you felt. He shook the thought away. Of course you still felt this way. There was no sense in wondering. 

He invaded this country. He led the assault on the once tranquil and picturesque towns you grew up in. He burned it all down. He spared you your life, but you are a prisoner. You are his captive. 

He knew the illusory narrative he’d been holding in his head was false. Though he could admit there was always a part of him that knew this. He just couldn’t accept it. Or maybe he was trying to manifest the illusion by believing so deeply in it. He was uncertain. 

But still he hoped. He couldn’t give that up. The hope - that one day when you looked at him, it would be with anything other than the cold, detached, impenetrable gaze you always held when you looked at him. The hope that one day when you spoke to him, it wouldn’t be so rigid and formal, that you would feel comfortable to speak your mind freely. The hope that, maybe one day, you would even smile. And that he may even be the one to put the smile on your face. 

He wanted to hear the way your voice might ring when you spoke of something you loved, something you enjoyed. He wanted to see a smile rise to your eyes before the curl of your lips. He wanted to hear you laugh. 

This agonized him so - your cold detachment. Perhaps it was because his own emotional state mirrored yours. He was tired. Tired of the war. Tired of bloodshed. Tired of the senseless destruction. He once looked wide-eyed at photographs of the ocean, of vast green plains under a bright blue sky in wonder. His reality was much different from his imagination. As the years passed, he also became detached, resigned to this life. He’d thought of deserting, but where would he go? He’d been a soldier his whole life. It was all that he knew. It was all that he could do. 

“You’re nothing but a killer.” 

He’d heard your words in his head countless times before, but it never ceased to sting unbearably deep in his heart. And he knew. It stung because it was true. Killing is all he’s ever known. 

He sat in front of the fire, wandering aimlessly the melancholy abyss of his mind late that evening when you returned to his room. He heard the door squeak open. He heard the gentle pat of your feet against the floor as you entered. He felt his hand grip the wooden handle of the chair tighter, but he did not turn to look at you. He couldn’t. 

If he were to look at you then, if he were to see that you looked back at him with your cold, unaffected eyes, after the time you’d spent together, after today.. He didn’t think he could bear it. 

He heard your light footsteps approach him, feeling your presence beside him like a heavy shadow. 

“Captain?” 

He caught his breath, his stomach tensing at the sound of your voice, quiet and airy. 

“Captain..” 

In his periphery he saw you kneel down beside him, and raised your hands up to rest on his forearm on the handle of the chair. The grip he held with his other hand tightened further, his fingernails digging into the wood of the chair handle. 

“...have I done something to upset you?”

He took a ragged breath in, his jaw clenching, a loud ringing growing deafening in his ears. There was a madness rising within him. Driven by the reel of images that played in his mind of earlier - of you, knelt before him between his legs. Of your naked body, how he longed to reach out to touch your bare skin. The way you made him feel. The way you moaned into him. 

He finally turned to look at you. And though he hoped something had changed, and hoped further that if he were to find nothing had changed, that it wouldn’t affect him. But the look in your eyes, the expression they held, cold detachment - he felt his heart sink, his chest wringing into itself, tightening, weighed down oppressively by a hopeless wish. 

And it angered him. It angered him that you could deign to speak so sweetly to him, the way your voice hummed when you called to him. The way you could be so indifferent, while his skin lit on fire under the touch of your fingertips. 

No, he thought to himself. It’s not possible that you should feel nothing for him. It’s not possible that you should feel nothing at all. He’d seen the way you looked onto the sky when it was clear, the way you’d close your eyes and breathe in the breeze that blew in through the open doors, the way your eyes suddenly lit up in wonder when you happened to see a sparrow land on the tree under the balcony. You are not so cold and immovable. 

He closed a hand tightly around your wrist and pulled you up to standing. He dragged you behind him, barely registering your voice as you called out to him, saying he was hurting you. He threw you onto his bed, watching for a moment as your small body sunk into the deep green velvet blankets. 

When you tried to sit up, he crawled on top of you, flattening his palm against the base of your neck, the wide expanse of his fingers covering both of your collarbones and he pushed you down against the pillows. He looked into your eyes.

Nothing. 

Not even fear.

The madness grew. 

He pushed his lips onto yours, forcefully, fueled by all the anger, frustration, sorrow, and longing that tugged his mind into a dark abyss. He ran a hand under your head, lacing his fingers into your hair and gripped it tightly, pulling your head back and forcing your mouth open. He slid his tongue into your mouth, and the whimper he heard from the back of your throat elicited a guttural moan from him. You tasted so sweet. And your body felt so warm under his. Your skin was so soft, sending pulses of electricity through his body each time his hand grazed your bare skin. 

But your body felt limp underneath him. You didn’t fight him. But he could tell you weren’t encouraging this either. Slowly, he pulled himself back and brushed a hand gently over your forehead. He looked down into your eyes, and saw that you had remained completely expressionless, looking up at him with empty eyes. He huffed, hands grasping fistfuls of the velvet fabric, driven to mania by your cold indifference. 

After a few moments, his breathing evened out. And slowly, he rose, sliding off the edge of the bed. He stood, hunched, staring at the ground. 

“I’ve lost myself..” he said softly, to you, and partly to himself. “Forgive me.”

You lay still on the soft, velvet blankets of his bed. Arms still over your head where he’d just held them, staring at the carvings in the oak canopy above you. You heard his footsteps recede into the bathroom, and the squeak of the faucet as he turned the water on in the shower. 

You felt a rush of blood spill into the veins of your face, dilating them and producing a pink glow in your cheeks. You heard the hushed breaths of air streaming in and out from your mouth, quiet, but shallow. 

Slowly, you pushed yourself up to sitting. Through the doorway to the bath you could see him leaned over the counter in front of the sink and mirror, his arms out, hands clasped tightly around the opposite edges of the marble. He’d taken off his shirt, which now lay as a puddle of dark cotton on the floor beside him. You found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. From the many scars that marred his back, at the lines of his muscles. At his head, hanging, hunched over the sink, his eyes dark and hidden under a veil of dark hair. His lips were parted, and you could still feel the way he moved them against yours.

He lifted his head and your eyes met his in the mirror. 

Why did he always look like this? You wondered. Even on the night you first met him, and every day since, his eyes always held the deepest grief, like someone who’d lost something incredibly precious and irreplaceable, and was forced to roam and wander the earth without it. 

Vengeful. Ferocious. Merciless. Cruel. Bloodthirsty. Heartless. 

These were the words you’ve heard used to describe him. But you could never see it. Not when he became angry with you as he never had, because you refused to eat. Not when you knew he spent his spare moments lost in volumes of books that described beautiful, faraway lands. Not when you had watched him as he occasionally took walks around the compound, and would stop to stare longingly at a small animal that passed him, or a bird as it flew past him in the sky. Not when your eyes would by chance meet, and you could see the childlike yearning hidden under a deep layer of anguish. 

You felt yourself unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, an aching growing as you recalled what you’d done earlier. 

I just needed to do something to make sure he wouldn’t let me be taken by someone else, you reasoned with yourself, but the aching in your core grew against your wishes. You couldn’t admit to yourself that earlier you enjoyed it. 

It was a means to an end, you kept telling yourself. But the warm puddle that began pooling between your legs told you differently.

He watched you in the reflection in the mirror, studying you carefully as you sat up in his bed, gazing back at him for a few moments. He watched you slowly slide off the edge of the bed and walked into the bathroom behind him. 

It couldn’t be, he thought. He wondered if the shadows cast across your face from the light of the fire in the bedroom were playing tricks on him, but he could swear he saw something change in your expression. Something he hadn’t seen before. 

But when he turned to face you as you approached him, he confirmed it. Your eyes looked at him differently. He recognized this look. 

Lust.

He leaned back against the cold, marble counter as you closed the space between the two of you. Goosebumps rose on his skin as your fingertips grazed the skin on his collarbones, reaching up around the nape of his neck. He watched you, breathing shallow breaths as you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes and reached your lips up to meet his. 

God, your lips were so warm and soft. He felt his eyes fall closed, despite him wishing to keep them open so he could watch you. Watch the way your lashes fluttered when you maneuvered your lips between his, watch the way strands of your hair fell back from your shoulders, exposing the creamy, silk-smooth skin of your neck. 

“Y/N..” he managed between your lips. He heard a quiet moan from you in response, and though he’d been hard for a while now, he felt blood pulsing through him, his length pushing painfully against the starched, rough material of his trousers. “You don’t..mm..you don’t have to do this..” He said this, but he knew that just as before, he would not be able to stop you. And he didn’t want to. 

His mind was growing foggier by the second, exacerbated by the heat radiating off your body, emitting an intoxicating scent of honey and milk. He felt his eyes roll back as you gently slid your tongue onto his, becoming drunk on the taste of you, and the steam that rose in the bathroom from the hot water rushing in the shower made it difficult for him to breathe, difficult to think. 

Cautiously, he slid his hands over your waist, down to your hips, the curve of your body drove him to madness. “Y/N...are you sure about this?” he whispered, desperately hoping you would tell him to stop. And desperately hoping you wouldn’t. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

He sighed into your skin, feeling your tongue rolling over his as you gave your reply. He gripped his fingers tightly into the skin of your hips. He felt your body quiver in response. 

“I want this.” 

Don’t say things like that to me, his mind raced. 

“I want you.”

That sent him over the edge. He tugged roughly at your hips and spun you around, pushing you against the marble wall beside him, its surface wet and slippery from the steam of the shower. He reached his hands up to the neckline of your dress, taking fistfuls of it and with just the slightest force, tore the delicate material in two, ripping it from your body. 

He wanted more. He needed more. His hands groped desperately at your waist, your hips, your thighs. He moved his lips to your shoulder, sucking and biting at your soft skin and when you slid your arms up around his neck, one hand lacing into the long wavy strands of his hair he heard a low, guttural moan escape his throat. 

He needed more.

He wanted to taste you. 

Slowly and deliberately, he lowered himself in front of you, gliding his hands over your breasts, so soft and full in his hands, plush in between his fingertips and he dragged them over your hardened nipples. He knelt in front of you, slowly sliding a hand up along your inner thigh and he looked up to see you toss your head back against the wall, and he pushed your legs apart, draping one over his shoulder. 

He leaned closer, and though the glow from the fire in his bedroom did not provide enough light for him to see, he could feel the heat emanating from your core, and the sweet, musty smell of your arousal sent waves of electricity through his body. He looked down at the soft folds of skin between your open legs, and brought a hand to the top of your clit, slipping a finger through your folds. 

“Fuck...Y/N..” he moaned as his fingers slid down your clit, becoming coated in a thick layer of your wetness. “Fuck..” he dove his head in between your legs, and barely registered the quiet scream that escaped your throat when he drove his tongue between your folds, lapping up as much of your slick as he could. God, you tasted so good. He wanted more, flattening his tongue against your clit, pressing his lips down onto your sensitive bud, sucking, salivating as he tasted more of you, a drop of your wetness mixed with his saliva dripped down his chin and he reached a hand up, wiping it from his skin and licked his finger clean before sliding it inside you. 

He felt your body shake as he did this, and worked his finger slowly in and out of you as your juices dripped down onto his palm, and his tongue continued its work on your aching clit. Fuck. He couldn’t take it anymore, how warm and creamy and tight you felt around his finger. He stood, and pumped his finger slowly in and out of you a couple of more times before retracting his hand from you with a snail-trail of slickness and held his finger to your lips, and swallowed hard seeing you take his finger into your mouth eagerly, sucking and tasting your own juices. 

He watched with wild eyes as you slid your hands down to his belt, unfastening it and pushed his trousers and briefs to the floor, finally freeing his aching cock from its restraints, pulsing with need. He heard a soft whimper from you as he picked you up and set you onto the marble counter by the sink, and he was losing his mind in anticipation seeing you spread your legs apart for him. 

He wrapped a hand around his length and situated himself between your legs, letting just the tip of his cock dip gently between your folds. His mind went completely blank as he felt your warmth, seeing the glistening wetness you were leaving on him. 

“Please..Captain..”

Your voice echoed in his head, and he looked up to see your eyes, hooded and sleepy, watery and pleading. “Please..”

He couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He watched your face intently, seeing your lips part with a moan, your eyes rolling back as he pushed himself into you inch by inch. He moved a hand to the base of your throat, closing his fingers around it with the gentlest force, to feel the vibration under your skin when you moaned as he slowly pushed more of himself into you, making a conscious effort not to thrust into you all at once. He knew he was stretching you to the brink of pain, you were so tight around him, so wet, sucking him in. 

He felt your whole body vibrate with pleasure when he finally bottomed out inside you, and he pulled himself back and slowly pushed him full length back in, finding an excruciatingly slow pace. He knew this was driving you wild, he knew his cock was filling you to the absolute brim, but he was also slowly losing himself in the warmth of your pussy, in the sound of your moans and pleads for him to go deeper, faster. 

“Say my name,” he commanded, deliberately withholding your pleasure, pulling away slightly, denying you his full length. He heard a soft whine in response. He pushed himself slowly back into you, all of him, the air had become heavy with steam and the smell of your two bodies, and the wet, squelching sounds as he pulsed his cock slowly in and out of your pussy that ached to be completely filled, to be ravaged. He applied more force with the hand he had held around your throat, and he exhaled sharply, feeling your pussy clamp down on him reflexively as he did this. “Say my name,” he growled into your ear, quickening his pace.

He could feel your body quivering, your insides tightening even more and he pounded into you, feeling droplets of your wetness dripping down to your ass, the sensation quickly pushing him over the edge. 

“Say it,” he rasped, his tongue lolling over the lobe of your ear. And when he heard you say it, it sent a shockwave through his body and he felt his cock twitch inside you, and felt your body shake in response. 

“Tae- Taehyung..” 

His thrusts were becoming sloppy, he was pounding into you with a feral desperation. 

“Mm..ah- Taehyung..!” 

He loved hearing your screams in his ear, the hum of his name from your lips. 

“Taehyung..I, I’m gonna-”

He heard the scream come up in throat as he thrusted into you mercilessly, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“Do it,” he panted, “Cum for me, love.” And as he heard you whimper, your body convulsing helplessly under him as your walls spasmed around him, he felt the rush of his own orgasm, he moaned gruffly from the back of his throat, holding your hips flush against him as he pumped himself into you a few more times, hot streams of his cum pooling deep inside you. 

He felt your body go limp in his arms and he caught you, taking a second for himself to come down from this high, for the stars to clear from his field of vision before picking you up in his arms and walking you out to the bedroom. He set you gently down onto the bed, pulling a few layers of blankets over your exhausted body. 

He reached a hand out slowly, brushing a few strands of hair from your cheeks. He watched as the rising and falling of your chest began to slow, and your breathing became less labored, and felt himself do the same. His eyes softened, admiring the soft glow of your skin in moonlight that streamed in from the windows. You turned onto your side, snuggling your face into the pillow. And he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time - the corners of his mouth lifted, into the smallest, most indiscernible smile. But it was a smile nonetheless.

But this faded quickly. The unease returned. He wondered how you would look at him when you woke the next day, sickened by the fear in the pit of his stomach. The fear that tomorrow the magic would be lost, that the sun would rise and turn everything to stone.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 40 | End

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.9k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of panic, slight body issues

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: So...this is it 😢 Flower is officially over! I started writing this on November 15th, 2019. Almost a year later, here we are with 40 chapters, 3 drabbles and 180k of words. Can you believe I actually finished it? I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and the journey of the MC finding herself and falling in love with Hoseok. It’s been so fun to write and it’s sad to let it go. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know with a comment or an ask! I’ve loved reading how much you’ve all felt seen or embraced by the MC with her struggles and I’d love to hear your thoughts on not only this chapter but the whole fic! Feedback is what keeps authors going and I came very close to leaving writing once Flower was finished but I’m still going to carry on. I’m not sure if this chapter is good or not, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and think it a fitting end to the story!

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Okay...okay. Let’s do this...you can do this. It’s easy. Just...walk down the aisle. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Hoseok could not be there or I could have a heart attack and drop down dead. That would suck. But it would resolve a lot of my issues, I wouldn’t have to worry about everyone watching me. On the other hand...I’m going to marry the love of my life. As long as he turns up” The soft sounds of your muttering are probably barely heard over the soft playing music through the speakers in the room, YouTube playing mindlessly to itself.

It was a good job, as it meant that no one else in the room could hear your panicked thoughts that were being verbalised. Hoseok and you had decided to get married at an exquisite mansion hotel with the ceremony itself being in the elegant gardens outside. There was a full-sized maze alongside a stunning fountain, the centrepiece being a marble depiction of Aphrodite rising from the shallows.

You’d taken a walk around the perfectly groomed gardens the night before, taking in all the decorations that you’d painstakingly picked out over the months that had been artfully arranged by the staff. The flowers in the gardens were beautiful, a smorgasbord of pinks, oranges, violets, reds and yellows that brought the whole area to life. Alongside it looking visually perfect, it also smelled amazing as well with the soft scent of different flowers mixing.

At night, the tiny fairy lights that had been strung up around the building front and the metal trellises that were organised in the garden gave off a soft, golden glow. It made the whole place look ethereal and you were excited for everyone else to get to see it during the reception tonight.

The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled to start at two in the afternoon, with only friends and family invited for that. It would be outside as well, with Hoseok and you standing at the end of a make-shift aisle on the lawn section of the hotel’s garden. Temporary chairs had been arranged on both sides for your guests, dark wood with ivory silk draped over everyone. At the end of the aisle, each chair had a silk bow in ivory and deep purple alongside a bouquet of specially arranged flowers. 

It all looked perfect and you’d marvelled at it yesterday, amazed that they’d managed to bring your vision to life. Now all you had to do was walk down it and get married, which was where you were a little panicked.

The room that had been assigned to the bridal party was on the lower floor of the hotel, reducing the risk of you potentially killing yourself by tripping over your dress while walking down the stairs. It was technically two hotel rooms connected through a shared bathroom, which you found bizarre.

Your mom and Hoseok’s mom had taken the other room for their use to get changed, the hairdresser and makeup artist they’d hired working there to make them look their best for the ceremony. Even now, you could hear them chattering and laughing away with each other. Even through your anxiety, you can’t help but smile as you hear them get on so well.

Any fears you’d had about them not liking each other had quickly disappeared. Instead, they’d become good friends and liked to meet up now and then to have a talk over coffee or something. It pleased you to see your mom getting to have more friends.

Eden and Amelia had also chosen to get ready in that room, not wanting to crowd the one you were in too much. It was already full of dresses and a ridiculous amount of makeup and hair product with only four of you so you couldn’t even imagine the chaos with five of you.

In your room was Soyeon, Chungha and Dahyun alongside you. Dahyun was currently three months pregnant, having successfully been inseminated with Jungkook’s sperm. He’d agreed to their request and after a few months of getting prepared for the attempts, Dahyun had undergone the procedure. What it had been exactly, you didn’t know because you hadn’t felt it was your business to pry into something like that.

It was a privilege to even know they were trying before anyone else. Their announcement had come at your bachelorette party when Dahyun had refused alcohol, immediately leading Soyeon and you to be suspicious. You’d never seen Chungha’s beloved ever turn down a drink so it had been a clear sign of something at least.

Needless to say, your party had happily become a celebration of their impending baby. Thankfully, you weren’t one of those people who got overly annoyed at others announcing things at events. Or at least, not big events. Your bachelorette party had been a perfect time to find out, whereas you might not have been so amenable if they’d told everyone today instead.

That was normal though, right? Today was your day. Yours and Hoseok’s. People who felt the need to co-opt special days like that were a special type of self-absorbed in your opinion.

Given it was so early into her pregnancy, Dahyun isn't showing that much. Which meant her bridesmaid dress hadn’t needed to be altered too much. None of them has gotten into their dresses just yet, instead currently in the process of getting their face and hair done. Chungha’s hair has already been done, elegantly styled into a beautiful updo with a few tendrils curled around her face.

The makeup for the girls was a smokey eye with subtle blush and contour, alongside a neutral lip. It wasn’t anything flashy, but you’d loved the concept of it all. Particularly with the small and delicate crystals that dotted along their waterline, adding a little sparkle to match the tiny crystals on their deep violet dresses.

As a present to each of them, you’d bought them a gift set from Pandora. In each one was a pair of dainty stud earrings with a heart design alongside a matching heart-shaped pendant necklace. All the hearts were encrusted with brilliant-cut stones, making the perfect gift that could be used again in the future for casual use.

They’d all been in awe of it and surprised at being given presents as well. You hadn’t even known it was a thing until you’d looked up wedding preparation online, discovering that you should also buy something for Hoseok. Which had led to you buying him the fancy watch he’d been drooling over for months now. It had been eye-watering expensive, but it had been worth it for his excited text this morning.

Along with the watch, you’d also written him a letter. It was meant to be light-hearted and fun, but you’d ended up writing way too much as you’d poured out your love to him alongside everything you felt for him. To your eternal embarrassment, you’d ended up crying while writing it as you’d told him everything you’d never been able to vocalise, including writing possibly a million times that you love him.

He’d been instructed to not read that until just before the ceremony.

His present to you was a gaming table, which might not seem to be very sentimental to anyone else but you’d been ecstatic over it. For years now, you’d been saying that you wanted to buy a proper table that was designed for board games and that could then be used as a normal table when converted. They were super expensive so you’d resigned yourself to never getting one, but he’d printed out the receipt of what he’d ordered and put it into an envelope for you to open tonight.

Neither of you had ever been a traditional couple, and that certainly wasn’t about to change with marriage.

“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asks, interrupting your intense thought process as she sits down next to you. As usual, her aura is warm and reassuring as she reaches over to gently squeeze at your hand. You don’t spend a huge amount of time around her, but you knew both Eden and her enough to want them in your bridal party.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just…” Trailing off, you struggle to find the right words and instead gesture towards the air. It makes no sense but you can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say. Mainly because you can’t figure out what your mind is thinking.

“It’s okay to be worried, don’t feel like you shouldn’t be. If you’re anxious or nervous then that’s okay as well. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be feeling, just feel what you are. Trust Hoseok, trust yourself and all your family and friends. We’re all here for you and we want you to have the best day possible. Tell us if anything is wrong, okay? I have no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon would strong-arm everyone into whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable.” She says, smirking as she nods over to the two women who are chattering away in their respective chairs.

“I know, I know. I’m trying. It’s just...god, everyone is going to be staring at me and I hate being the centre of attention,” Looking down at your hands, you chew at your lips. “What if I mess up the vows? Or I freeze or drop the ring?”

“Hey, it’s normal to feel that. I doubt there’s anyone who’s gotten married who wasn’t at least a little bit anxious about messing something up. Yes, everyone is here to watch you, but they’re for Hoseok too. I’m sure he’s just as worried that he might make a mistake, and if you do then, so what? It’s not going to ruin anything, it just means your human. If anything, people will probably find it endearing. The only person you should concern yourself with is Hoseok, and I doubt there’s anything you could do today to ruin the day for him. Unless you don’t go.” Amelia laughs when you give a shocked gasp, jaw-dropping open and eyes wide.

“I would never do that! But what if he decides he doesn’t want to get married anymore?” Now the worry that had wiggled itself deep inside your mind comes to the fore and you find yourself almost whispering the words. It feels like a betrayal to Hoseok for even thinking he’d do that, but you can’t help the fear.

You must not have been quite enough though as Chungha speaks up, facing you in her chair with a stern expression on her face as she wags her finger. “Lady, do not think that. I don’t want that thought to even enter your head. As if Jung Hoseok is ever going to back out now. I think that man would’ve eloped with you if you’d asked instead. He’s going to be standing at the end of that aisle, probably bawling like a baby.”

“Maybe not that far.” This is from Eden, who’s laid out on the bed in the centre of the room, playing Zelda on her Switch. She’d had her makeup done earlier and is now waiting for the hairdresser to be free while Amelia is waiting for her makeup. All of you had decided that you’d be last to get ready to make sure that everything looked as fresh as possible.

“Want to bet? That man is gonna be sobbing.” This starts up a whole ten-minute discussion about whether or not Hoseok was going to cry at seeing you. Namjoon hadn’t cried but Jimin had during their weddings, surprising no one. But Namjoon had cried at the birth of his daughter.

You weren’t sure, to be honest. Hoseok didn’t cry all that often and you could probably count on one hand how many times you’d seen it over four years. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to see him crying. It made your chest hurt when he did and you always ended up crying too.

Something about seeing strong and proud men cry was just heartbreaking to you. 

For a while, you just sit back and let the conversation wash over you as they all debate and borderline argue, intensely amongst themselves. They’d all switched around now and they’ll soon start getting into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which meant you’d be finally getting ready.

Your nails had been done the night before with a beautiful design in the same colour scheme as the wedding. They looked so pretty and elegant, which was a surprise to you every time you looked at them as you never really bothered doing your nails. While you liked to do fancy makeup looks now and then to post onto social media, nails were not something you were interested in.

Maybe you should reassess that thought.

“Anyway, what we’re all trying, and failing, to say is that Hoseok loves you and if he doesn’t cry then he’s crying inside at how beautiful you are.” Soyeon states firmly, sitting next to you and admiring your nails as well. All the bridesmaids had the same style to keep the theme going and she wiggled her fingers with a bright smile.

“I’m not even ready yet, you don’t know if I’ll be beautiful.”

There’s dead silence in the room after the comment, with even the hairdresser and makeup artist turning to stare at you. Between the six other women in the room, you’re pretty sure that they’ve got every emotion from shock to annoyance to incredulity covered. Feeling yourself get warm at their attention, you look down to your lap in embarrassment.

Obviously, the wrong thing to say.

“Okay, we’re going to ignore that you just said that. You don’t need to be dolled up and in a wedding dress to be beautiful, it’s just going to enhance what you already have. And I don’t want any arguments on that.” Poking your side lightly, you playfully wince at Soyeon as she scolds you. Everyone else is nodding along solemnly before they carry on with whatever they’d been doing.

“Seriously though, I overheard your conversation with Amelia. She’s right. Embrace your feelings but don’t let them overwhelm you. Standing in front of a crowd is nerve-wracking for anyone, but you’ve got the love of your life standing there with you. Just focus on Hoseok, he’ll get you through it. He always has, right?” Soyeon said.

Giving her a half-smile, you nod and do a remarkably good job of looking like a scolded child or something. You know it’s just because she loves you that she doesn’t want you to berate yourself, along with the fact that she knows what you’re like. If someone doesn’t verbally acknowledge your problems then you’ll just obsess over them.

Your phone screen lights up in your lap before it begins to vibrate suddenly, Hoseok’s name visible on the screen. Frowning down at it, you wonder why he’s calling before a multitude of emotions and thoughts runs through your mind.

“Go take it in the bathroom.” Pulling you up, Soyeon practically pushes you into the bathroom before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up as she closes the door.

Seeing the other door is also open, you peek out and let everyone in that room know that you’d be using the bathroom for a few minutes and to not come in. Once you get the acknowledgement, you close and lock it as well before pushing up to sit on the counter.

“Hobi! Why are you calling?” Leaning back against the mirror, you frown deeply as you question him. The first response is just his familiar deep chuckle, the sound already helping to soothe some of your frayed nerves.

“Amelia texted Joon, who told me. I don’t want you to stress yourself out! Not today, today’s meant to be a happy day. No stress. Or anxiety.” Snorting, you roll your eyes as you trace an invisible design onto your thigh.

“Sure, like that’s gonna happen. You know me. And why are you calling? We’re not meant to see each other until the wedding, it’s bad luck!” There’s a brief pause and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out telling you all you need to know.

“Meeps, I’m pretty sure that only counts for physically seeing each other. I can’t see you right now. I don’t recall anything about not being allowed to hear you, or talk to you. Besides, we make our luck.” He sounds so nonchalant and now it’s your turn to sigh at him.

“You’re going to get us hit by lightning or something.”

“Impossible, the weather schedule for today is meant to be sunny with a little bit of cloud later on. Nice warm temperatures that aren’t too hot but also not too cold. Perfect. No lightning.” His immediate rebuttal has you laughing, unable to stay mad at him for too long. Not when he’s trying so hard to take your mind off things.

“Seriously though, are you okay? What are you worried about? Talk to me.” Hoseok asks, his voice calm and steady as he stops joking around. There’s a brief moment of resistance, the thought that you don’t want to bother him with your silly thoughts or annoying emotions before you remember that you can trust him. No matter how ridiculous it sounds in your head, Hoseok will listen and he won’t make fun of you.

“I’m just...scared. Of all the people. Like, they’re going to be watching me or staring. What if I look fat or ugly? Or I fuck up saying the vows? Or I drop the ring or my dress splits or something? Or if I trip down the aisle?! Or if you decide you don’t want to marry me anymore?” As you begin to reel off the questions that have been plaguing your mind, you can feel your chest getting a little tighter and your breathing shallower.

With the practised ease of someone who’s dealt with your panic attacks over the years, Hoseok makes calming and reassuring noises over the phone until you’re silent. Just listening to him, you take in the comforting words as he lets you know that you’re okay and everything is fine. Finally, once he thinks you’re calm enough, he carries on.

“Meeps, that’s fine. Don’t be upset that you’re having those thoughts. I’ve had every one of those thoughts today as well. I mean...not the dress one. Substitute that for pants splitting or something, which is even more embarrassing because my underwear is not black today. But the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s normal to have those thoughts today. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t having them.” He pauses to laugh before you hear shuffling noises.

There’s no doubt he’s probably not even getting into his tuxedo just yet and you curse the fact that men take far less time to get ready than women. He’ll probably only start like...an hour before the ceremony begins or something.

“But all I’ll say is, it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong because we’ll fix it. You and me, just like always. You won’t look fat or ugly because you’re neither fat nor ugly anyway, instead, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here. Which you always are to me but don’t let my mom hear me tell you that. And I’m going to be standing at the end of the aisle, I promise you that. I’m the one who proposed to you and I will be there, waiting for you. That’s one thing I can assure you of completely.” Hoseok says this firmly, his voice perhaps more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

You can practically feel his determination to make you understand that he’s going to be there. That he’s going to marry you today, no matter what happens. It makes your heart swell with love and emotion, causing you to press your hand against your mouth.

Hoseok takes your silence as a positive, choosing to let it carry on for a little longer before speaking once more.

“I love you, Meeps. And by the end of today, you’re going to be my wife. We’re going to have a great day with a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception before probably going to bed drunk. Or at least, I’m going to be drunk. Not entirely sure if I’ll be able to take you to Poundtown tonight-”

“Don’t ever say that again.” 

“But if not tonight then definitely tomorrow. Unless you don’t want me to drink, in which case probably tonight if you’re up for it.” Shaking your head, you can’t help but smile at his stupid comments. He always knew how to cheer you up, even if it was with the most ridiculous thing you’d heard today.

“You can drink, I’m not going to make you sober throughout the entire reception. I want you to have fun with everyone, so if you end up drunk then that’s fine. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Choosing to ignore my Poundtown comments, I see.” 

“Jung Hoseok, I am going to hang up now. I will see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” Feeling a little shy, you murmur your next words into the phone.

“Love you too.”

-

The ceremony is officially about to start and you stare at the open door, knowing that outside all your guests are waiting. Not only that, but Hoseok is at the end of the aisle. You’d been reassured by everyone there who had peeked out to make sure, quelling your fears and worries.

All the groomsmen had come inside upon finding out you were here, lining themselves up alongside their specified bridesmaid partners and chatting away happily. They all looked incredibly handsome in their suits, the colours matching the bridesmaids perfectly and you felt a little pride at having thought of a good colour scheme.

Your mom is fussing around you, making sure that your dress looks perfect and that your bouquet hasn’t fallen apart or anything. Sighing, you gently push her hands away as she tries once more to move your necklace.

All of them had given you something as part of the tradition for the bride. Dahyun had lent you a beautiful Cartier bracelet, glowing with diamonds, as part of the ‘something borrowed’ while Chungha had bought you diamond earrings for the ‘something new’. Your mom had given you the bracelet she’d worn for her wedding, now occupying your other wrist and Hoseok’s mom had provided the necklace adorning your neck.

It was a beautiful silver necklace with a dainty leaf design, leading to the main piece in the centre which was dotted with tiny diamonds. Each leaf spreading out had either amethyst or an aquamarine gem in alternating order. She’d ordered it specially made for your wedding, matching your engagement ring with the gems and fulfilling the ‘something blue’.

You’d been amazed at everything they’d given you, understanding now why they’d all told you now to buy any jewellery for the day. They’d all decided to make sure you had everything you needed anyway.

But you knew that your mom’s need to keep straightening out your dress or brushing away unseen dust was just to keep herself preoccupied. She’d already cried once when you’d come out in your wedding dress, makeup and hair all done. That had earned her an exasperated sigh from the makeup artist.

“Mom, mom, come on,” You coo to her, smiling before taking her hands and squeezing. “You gotta go out there, go get your place.” 

She hesitates for a moment, unwilling to leave you before nodding. After a few words of reassurance from her to you, telling you that you’re going to do well and it’s all going to go fine, she turns and hugs your dad tightly before kissing him. You’d feel embarrassed at the sight of it, never quite being comfortable with your parents' displays of affection, but it just causes you to laugh softly.

Once she’s out the door, you hear the music begin from outside, the notes flowing through the door faintly. Everyone inside quietens and you can almost feel the excitement ramp up. It just makes you feel more nervous though, particularly when they start to head out in their pairs slowly.

“Are you ready?” Your dad asks, his eyes already going glassy with tears as his lip wobbles slightly. Giving him a concerned look, you immediately reach up to wipe the tears as they start to fall, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of your dad crying. He never cried.

“Dad! Don’t cry, oh my god. I’m sorry.” Cleaning up his face quickly, you’re stopped by the gentle way he grasps your wrists. For a moment, you think that he’s going to push you away but instead, he pulls you closer and carefully hugs you.

It’s a little awkward as you’re trying not to ruin the carefully done hair and makeup, but you can’t deny your dad a hug. Especially when you’d never really been much of a hugger growing up. You would be cruel to deny him one, especially on your wedding day. Your parents were feeling emotional that their little girl was getting married today.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just your old dad getting sappy. You look so beautiful. Hoseok is so lucky, you better remind him of that every day.” He’s pulled back now, giving you the softest smile that is still a little watery. His hands move to your shoulders and he stands back to examine you fully, his eyes taking in everything.

Before you can respond to him, Yoongi is disappearing out of the door and heading towards the aisle. He’s alone, as you’d planned, but in one hand is the bouquet that Hoseok’s sister would’ve held had she still been alive. It had been his suggestion to hold it, symbolising the family member that Hoseok didn’t have anymore and you’d been more than willing to agree.

You wondered what Hoseok thought when he saw it as neither of you had told him that Yoongi would be holding it. Hopefully, he was happy with it, along with his parents.

Turning back to you, your dad squeezes your shoulders reassuringly before smiling at you. Ironically, all it does is make you more nervous as you realise that now you’re the one who’s going to have to walk down that aisle next. 

“Come on, it’s time to make your fiancé cry.” His words in a teasing tone, your dad turns to face the door before offering you his arm. Standing there, you stare at him before looking at the door with trepidation. Nerves roil in your stomach as you hear the faint sound of music playing, knowing that everyone out there is waiting for you.

Which in turn means everyone will be staring at you.

Those nerves quickly turn to anxiety and your breath comes faster, chest feeling a little constricted by the tight bodice of the dress. Without even realising it, your hands start to shake and the bouquet in them shudders visibly.

Quickly, your dad takes the bouquet from you to make sure that you don’t accidentally deflower them or crush the stems. The last thing you needed was to ruin your perfect bouquet only minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

It frees up your hands and you find yourself flapping them as you stress, trying to shake out the negative emotions as you pant. Your dad’s eyes widen, obviously panicking himself at your obvious distress. He’s never had to deal with you struggling like this before and he doesn’t know what to do but his paternal instincts kick in quickly.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe. Take a big breath in, come on, that’s it. Not let it out slowly. And again, that’s right.” Talking to you in his comforting voice, tone level and low, you follow his instructions and start to feel a little calmer as you force yourself to calm your breathing. It’s hard, and you still feel the anxiety but it feels a little more manageable now.

Closing your eyes, you run through all the tips your therapist had given you for how to cope with anxiety attacks. What worked for you was to sing in your head, the lyrics, whatever song you were loving lately. It probably takes longer than you’d have liked but finally you feel like you can cope with your emotions enough to carry on.

When you open your eyes again, your dad is giving you an expectant, yet worried, look. Shaking your hands once more, you reach out and take the bouquet from him before taking a deep breath. Linking your arm through his, you straighten your shoulders and lift your chin before smiling at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

-

Walking down the aisle is surprisingly less stressful than you’d imagined. The famous wedding song plays through the air as you walk slowly and the whole atmosphere feels almost like a fairytale. The soft lights twinkle even in the daylight while the gentle, warm breeze makes the ribbons on the chairs flutter delicately.

Along the floor, the white and purple rose petals that Namjoon’s daughter had spread in her role as flower girl were strewn haphazardly. A few of them caught the breeze and rolled delicately to a new place, making it seem like the floor was consistently changing. You liked it, smiling at the sight of how beautiful everything looked.

Everyone was staring at you, as you’d expected, but surprisingly it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d thought. You didn’t exactly enjoy it but it wasn’t terrible. Probably because you were more focused on initially admiring how perfect everything looked. How months and months of thought and money had finally accumulated into the perfect wedding.

But mostly, you weren’t as bothered by the staring because you were focused on the end of the aisle. There was no real altar here, given that it was being held at a hotel and everything, but the metal garden arch at the end had been decorated in delicate flowers, ribbons and lights to make an even better end.

And beneath it stood Hoseok.

If you’d ever thought Hoseok looked handsome before then it paled in comparison to him today. His black tuxedo made him look tall and slim, every part of him looking perfectly put together and elegant. The deep purple waistcoat beneath his jacket contrasted with the white of his shirt perfectly; the colour combination making his skin almost glow with health and happiness.

There was only the slightest hint of tattoos at the edge of his collar, leaving to the imagination the artwork he had permanently on his body beneath his clothes but you didn’t need to imagine. You’d seen them all, traced them delicately into your memory over the years until you could point out where they were without even seeing them.

Finally reaching him, you paused to look at your dad and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before giving him a second hug. This one was a little tighter than before and when you let go of him, you saw that he was crying once more. He didn’t give your hand to Hoseok, instead just gave him a stern look while trying to surreptitiously wipe away his tears.

“You look after her, Jung Hoseok. You make sure she’s the happiest woman.” There’s iron in his voice, telling Hoseok that it wasn’t a question but more a command. But there’s also love and affection in it, something Hoseok can tell as well by the way he nods his head.

Handing your bouquet to Chungha, you take Hoseok’s proffered hand. Up close, you can take in the details of his face better and you take a moment to simply admire him and imprint him into your memory.

The sides of his head had been shaven, the undercut short and seen with the style he’d chosen to wear today. His hair had been styled back, pushed away from his forehead. It was a look that had made you weak in the knees many times over the years and you’d practically begged him to have it for the wedding, knowing that he’d blow everyone’s mind with how handsome he looked.

Hoseok had a face that looked like it had been hand-carved by the gods from the finest marble anyway and this hairstyle showed off all the highlights of his face. The high cheekbones that made his smiles so animated, his cutting jawline, the clean slope of his nose, the heart-shaped smile that lit his entire face and the dimples that made him seem so human. 

His lip ring was still in, the silver shining in the sunlight. He’d been unsure whether to wear it but you’d told him to embrace himself and keep it. You’d fallen in love with him as he was, and you wanted him to show himself how you saw him. Which included his piercings and tattoos.

Your heart clenched though when you looked into his eyes finally. Hoseok’s eyes were one of your favourite things about him. The crescents they turned into when he smiled brightly, pushed into the shape by his cheeks and the way his eyes could practically dance with delight when he was happy.

Today though, those beautiful and expressive eyes were watery with tears. The wet streak on his cheek told you that he’d already had some of them fall and you frowned at the sight of them. Everyone had been right; Hoseok had cried upon seeing you down the aisle.

“Baby.” You whisper, unsure if you’re meant to talk to him. Deciding you don’t care, you reach up to wipe away the tears and smile when he kisses the palm of your hand before nuzzling into it, uncaring of everyone else.

“Meeps, you look perfect. I read your letter, I love you too.” Before you can stop him, he’s leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. There’s a murmur in the crowd, alongside some laughter and he looks over at everyone with a raised brow.

No one says anything though and he gets a satisfied look, ignoring your shy expression as you turn away from everyone.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Keeping your voice low, you give a hesitant smile to the official who will be taking you both through your ceremony. Hoseok lets out a snort of laughter as he squeezes your hand tight, letting his thumb run along the back of your hand lovingly.

“I don’t care. It’s our wedding, I’ll do what I want.” And before you can stop him, he turns you and gives you another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. Eyes widening, you can’t help but giggle as you hear yet more laughter.

You should be annoyed at him, but you know he’s a force of nature. Plus, you don’t care. It feels nice to know he can’t help himself.

“Okay, let’s get married, Meeps.” He grins at you before facing the officiant once more. Staring at him a moment longer, you smile at him and nod.

“Let’s get married.”

-

Hobi Hobi,

We’re getting married today! Are you excited? I hope you’re reading this when I told you to, if not then you’re cheating >:[ it feels weird to write a letter. I don’t even know if I’ve ever done this before, so I’m sorry if it sounds really cheesy and lame. What do people write in these normally? I’m just going to write what comes to mind so if it ends up sappy then you’re not allowed to tease me later about it. 

Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry that I suck so much at telling you how I feel and my emotions. I wish I could be one of those people who’s telling you every moment how handsome you are and how much I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry :( I’m trying, I swear! Even if I don’t get to tell you as often as you deserve, I hope you know that I love you more than anything in the world.

Don’t ever forget that, okay? Even when we’re arguing over something silly or we go to bed mad at each other, don’t forget that. I know we’re pretty good at talking things out but there’s always that chance that we could have a big blowout. So I want you to remember that I love you. 

I’m still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you, but I don’t regret sending you that message. If anything, I think I should send the Flower team a big bunch of flowers or something for creating the algorithm that brought you up as a match. Imagine if it hadn’t and I’d just deleted the app, we’d have never met and I’d still be lonely and sad.

But we did meet, and I took a chance on you by sending you that embarrassing message. And then you took a chance by actually meeting up with me and going on that date. I still remember it, and I don’t know if I ever told you but I still have the ticket for the escape room. I know you still have yours in your wallet :) Thank you for giving me your time, even if I wasn’t your type. I hope I’m your type now.

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to tell you how important you are to me. Not only myself but my life. You’ve helped me to embrace myself and learn to love myself over the years through kindness. I know my limits in terms of my mental health now and you’ve helped to support me with the medication and the therapist. Neither of those were things I’d been comfortable with doing before your encouragement. But you also gave me a safe space to break down in; somewhere that I knew I could be at my most vulnerable mentally without having to risk being hurt even more.

You held me when I cried, you comforted me when I panicked and you calmed my anxiety over the years. I can never thank you enough for helping me to understand that these aren’t deficiencies and I’m not broken. I just need a little help to get through things sometimes. At the same time, I hope that I’ve become that safe space for you as well. I know that you’re not as emotional as I am, but I feel that you’ve opened up to me about things that hurt you. I’ll keep your secrets safe and I’ll always be here for you!

I hope you’re happy with your life now. With me, and our home and our furbabies. I hope you stay happy, and if you don’t then talk to me. Please. I don’t want us to ever realise that we’re making each other unhappy and I don’t want to ever be the reason for negativity. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in our little home, growing old together as we play board games and dote on our animals while you increase your tattoo collection even more. I know that people like to say that they can’t imagine their lives with their significant other, but I really do feel like that.

My life without you would be hollow and monochrome, as you bring colour to my world and fill it with joy and happiness. I’ve never laughed as much as I have these last few years with you and I know we’ll keep that in our relationship if we try hard. 

I don’t really know where this letter is going and I’m babbling now. But I guess the main thing is just that I can’t wait to marry you. It may not be very feminist of me but I can’t wait to take your name and be your wife. I can’t wait to call you my husband. I’m going to be terrified in the ceremony and so nervous but I’ll be happy too, I promise! I still can’t believe that you picked me, out of all the women you’ve seen, to be your girlfriend and then decided that you wanted to marry me.

Jung Hoseok, I solemnly swear to treasure you for the rest of your life and make sure you know how much I love you. I might not be able to tell you all that much, but I’ll show you. I’ll make you smile and laugh, I’ll buy you things that make me think of you, I’ll hug you tight and cuddle you until you’re complaining.

So in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I love you. I just want you to know because I know I suck at telling you, like I said. I’m also bad at writing letters but what’s new? I’ll finish this off quickly so you’re not spending too long reading this. Don’t want to make you late for our wedding after all.

I love you. I love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you, Hobi. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lots and lots and lots of love, your soon to be wife <333333

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; ii

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, Smut 

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right…But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mature themes, Dry-humping and Drinking, Angst warning

A/N: part three will conclude this series, thank you for the support!

“So Y/N, I’ll only ask one question on the topic but...What attracted you to Bang Chan?” 

“Well, everything really.” You say with a fond smile. “When we first met I had just moved to Sydney and he took care of me. I think I started liking him then, But I only confessed when we were both trainees.” 

“How cute!” The interviewer gushes, fanning herself. “I hope you two have many happy days to come.”

Things had been jam-packed since the news of you and Chan had come out, his fandom had been more welcoming than you had expected and left lots of sweet comments under your social media accounts. You hadn’t done any interviews until today, just music shows or performances. You also hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him since it all went down, not even at the meeting.

In fairness you had both become extremely busy, and constantly were a hot topic for netizens. Your fame had skyrocketed even more so than it originally did, you had now become the ambassador of a major brand and already had a performance booked for the end of year awards with a brand new song.

Your mind went back to your conversation with Chan and how quick you had been to blurt out hurtful words that you no longer meant. 

You knew it was up to you to reach out, but admitting your actions were over the top isn’t something you’re ready to do. You hadn’t technically lied but calling him a sellout was a low blow, and although he wasn’t an angel he wouldn’t say something like that to you. 

Today is a better day than any to deliver your reluctant apology, a fake date is scheduled for a popular book store that recently finished an extension for their in store cafe.You dressed casually and made sure to bring your mask and matching black baseball hat, along with Tims Tams.

Even though it’s only 1pm, the sky is dim and dreary which makes the walk to the cafe a bit more nerve-wracking. What if he chews you out before you can get a word in? He was always good at that. The scent of arabica coffee beans brings you to your senses and you walk in before you can make a run for it and never return, goodbye idol life, au revoir pilates and adiós to Christopher Bang.

“You actually came.” A voice remarks, making you squeal in surprise. 

“What the fuck?!” You screech, placing a hand over your heart to try calm it’s rapid beating.

He opens the door, smiling in amusement at your terror. You settle in a corner with a large bright window, perfect for paparazzi and incase you nervous retch. Chan heads to the counter and comes back with a double shot Americano and a Green Tea Latte.

“Thanks.” You murmur sheepishly, feeling like a complete asshole for lashing out at him.

“I wanted to run something by you, well, to clarify something…” He begins to explain, waiting for your nod of approval before he begins. “I didn’t even know Seungah, or ‘Mijoo’ properly until we broke up. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, I know I still did but I just wanted you to understand.”

You’re taken aback by him not being mad at you for two weeks ago, even though he has every right to be. If he had said half the things you had said he wouldn’t know any peace for the rest of his life.

“Thank you for clarifying, But I should be apologising…” You began hesitantly, did he want you to just move on and say nothing? Still, you’re not that person anymore. “I was way out of line to say all that stuff about you, which wasn’t true at all. You worked hard to get where you are and I’m happy for you, if anyone deserves the world it’s you.” 

While he processes your words with his mouth ajar, you push the Tim Tams to his side of the table. His eyes light up and he rips into them immediately, dunking one into his warm coffee and although you find it semi-revolting, you smile.

You spend the next half hour sharing the biscuits and stories of wardrobe mishaps and what you’ve both been up to in the last few years. It doesn’t take long before you feel comfortable in his presence, not fully but more than you thought possible after all that went down.

Chan ends up finishing the packet and relaxes into his chair with a content sigh, you can’t help but smile at the sight. It quickly fades when you spot paparazzi in heards outside the cafe.

“They found us, totally not like our companies tipped them off.” Chan comments, turning back to you after squinting at them for a bit.

“Quick, act surprised.” You order, as you start making over-exaggerated expressions to the cameras.

The flashing of cameras is nothing new to either of you at this point and you head upstairs to the book section, scanning from classics, science fiction and biographies of people you’d never heard of. Chan spots a section of books with their covers hidden under wrapping and the descriptions written in black ink. You decide on a poetry book from the 1700s with a little sun drawn on the brown paper, Chan picks a Sci-Fi thriller and you shake your head knowingly.

Afterwards, Chan walks you home through the playground near your tiny apartment and makes small talk about music, he picks your brain about melodies and what your favourite synth sounds are. It’s hard to believe less than a month ago you wanted to rip his head off. 

“Let’s sit for a bit.” Chan says, situating himself on a swing.

It doesn’t take you long to join him on the swing to his right, if there’s nothing worse than one idiot on a swing it’s two idiots on swings. Instead of chatting you focus on seeing how high up you can go and Chan watches, shaking his head in embarrassment.

“You’re an actual child.” He teases, grabbing a hold of the rope to slow you down. 

“Hey, no fair.” You huff, grounding yourself by using your feet, turning to him with a pout.

He rolls his eyes and ruffles your hair just like he used to, and embarrassingly it makes you feel happy. Just like you used to back when you first met in Sydney and he was all you knew. 

Stop thinking about the past, you say mentally, what’ll It change?

To distract yourself you decide it’s time to go somewhere else, and get up with the intent of forgetting whatever feelings your brain is fabricating. You can hear footsteps behind you and sigh, he’s not letting you go that easy.

“Where are you going?” Chan calls out, finally catching up to you.

“A bar, I assumed you were still on that drinking ban.” You say feigning your intentions of ditching him for your own benefit.

“That ended two years ago,” He replies with a small smile, “What bar exactly?”

“You’ll see.” 

“Y/N….you said a bar, this is a club.” Chan says, stating the obvious. 

It’s a small place just on the outskirts of the bustling city, illuminated by purple and blue with none of the  ridiculous cocktail names, dry humping and reek of Victoria’s Secret perfume you became accustomed to in Seoul. 

“Same difference,” You reply with a shrug, sitting down at an empty velvet sofa. “Wanna be a dear and get us some drinks?”

Chan shakes his head with his usual grin and heads to the counter, you can’t help but notice how buff he’s gotten in the last few years. You look away when he takes the drinks off the counter and focus on the fabric of your ripped jeans instead, fiddling with the loose strings.

“A rum and coke for you and a black russian for me.” He announces, sitting down on the other end of the couch. 

“Perfect choice.” You say thankfully, raising the glass to your lips and taking several gulps.

The blond raises an eyebrow, sipping at his caffeinated cocktail at a more leisurely pace, soon one drink becomes four and a round of shots later you can gladly say any warm fuzzy feelings have been replaced with drunk fuzzy feelings. Chan, who's only had two drinks laughs at your predicament as the bartender cuts you off for the night.

“Chris, order another round!” You instructed giddily, clinging onto his arm.

“Yeah, and carry you home drunk? I don’t think so.” He retorts, finishing his soju.

You grumble incoherencies under your breath, leaning into him and shutting your eyes. He inquisitively still smells the same and carries the same soothing aura that everyone seemed to pick up on. He hums to the song playing and you can feel his chest vibrate when he messes up on a lyric and laughs. The alcohol makes everything seem blurred around the edges and rose-tinged, he puts his arm around you and it all feels right.

“Y/N, Y’Alright?” 

“Yeah, you?” You slur, smiling into his neck, you can feel him chuckle when your eyelashes tickle his skin.

Everything becomes hazy after that, you hardly remember Chan helping you into the back of a taxi or guiding you to your front door. He searches your bag for the front door key and then your jacket, you giggle drunkenly, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Back pocket,” You state with an amused grin.

Chan reaches down into the back pocket of your jeans and the contact makes your cheeks redden and you inhale deeply. He doesn’t seem to notice and clasps onto the key, before he takes the key out you place your hand around his wrist and hold it there. He looks at you with an uncertain glance, his eyes searching yours for confirmation of some sort, arching into his touch gives him the clarification he needs and he presses his lips to yours in a hungry, intrusive kiss. 

You bring your hands up to his hair and tug on it lightly, as if to bring him even closer if possible. Chan groans into your mouth at the feeling and you take advantage of the moment and control the kiss while he eagerly follows, one hand firmly squeezing your ass while and starts to grind against you. The only sounds you hear are his ragged breathing and the quiet whimper that leaves him when you pull apart to nip at his jaw.

“Y/N,” He pleads, rutting against your thigh with desperation. You answer his pleas, allowing him between your thighs, he kisses your ear appreciatively and helps you up onto the low metal shelf by your doorway for better access grind against your sex.

He whines profanities into your neck when you meet his ruts in a more languid pace, it only makes him more desperate for you. You sigh in pleasure at the sight, although your vision is hazy his swollen lips and furrowed brows are as clear as day. You can tell how close he is by how unsteady his breathing is, he cries out your name repeatedly and you coo at him.

“Pathetic, I haven’t even wrapped my hand around your cock and you’re ready to blow your load.” You mock, pretending you aren’t at the edge yourself.

“Ah, shit..!” He bellows, hot breath hitting your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

You watch his mouth fall agape as he finally reaches his peak, his blonde hair is plastered against his face and his skin has a sheen that suits him well. Chan gasps as you start up again, the overstimulation making him writhe, he slips one hand down the front of your jeans, which surprises you because you still feel secure being held up with just one arm. You rut against his hand, he knows exactly where to touch and your moans only spur him on until you finally reach your own climax, biting down on his shoulder when you do.

Nothing is said while you both collect yourselves, Chan drops you down and presses his forehead to yours while he catches his breath. The alcohol starts to wear off you and fully realise what’s happened and take your keys out of your back pocket, your hands shake and it takes you a while to get the key in and twist it.

“Y/N?” He calls out, sounding helpless. 

“I’m sorry, Chris.” 

Ignoring the downcast expression on his face you go inside, looking at him once more and telling him you’re sorry again and that he should leave. When you slam the door, he calls out for you to open it again, fifteen minutes later he leaves and you’re in the shower crying. You had just done to Mijoo what had been your biggest fear, but she would have never done that to you.

She was a good person and you were disgusting with no morals.

How the fuck had it all happened so fast? Meeting Chris again, loathing him, fake dating him, feeling emotions for him and now practically fucking him? Nothing had really changed, even before the breakup it had always been you crawling back to him and him feeling as if gravity was pulling you two back together just to tear you away again. ‘Cruel fate’ he called it, you call it nonsense to make him feel better.

Whatever it was, it needed to stop or finally be faced.

It’s just after 12pm the next day when you wake up, everything hurts and you try to piece together what little you remember before that thing with Chris. You groan into the palms of your hands and try to think of a solution, you couldn’t ignore or avoid him, at least not forever. Why did you ever agree to fake a relationship anyways? If only you could turn back time and tell your CEO and the entire JYP entourage to get fucked.

A buzzing under your pillow snaps you back to your senses, realising it’s your phone you slide your thumb across the screen to accept the call. 

“Hello?”  You ask in a hoarse tone.

“Check literally any news outlet.” A familiar voice says in a monotone voice.

“Iris, Should I be worried?”

Iris doesn’t reply and you decide to check Twitter, upon opening it you’re bombarded with notifications that all lead back to a photo of you and Chan making out. The picture has clearly been scanned to make the quality better, it’s grainy but even you can see how easy it is to tell who is in the photo. Dread fills your body at the thought of what management would say, this could compromise all of your hard work.

“I thought you were done with him,” Iris sighs, “God, Y/N... it took you years to get over him, and he has a real relationship.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You reply quietly, ignoring the sting of her words.

“I love you, okay? But I’m so worried you’ll end up hurt again.” She admits, you can hear her tapping her nails against wood, a nervous habit. “Just be careful, I’ll call you later.”

As the call ends you sigh with a smile, typical Iris trying to show she cares while remaining unfiltered. You quickly realise there's no point in hiding from any of this and get ready for what you’re sure will be an eventful day. 

When you arrive at the company building you’re quick to sneak past the secretary and into San’s office, he greets you with a suggestive look.

“You’re so lucky the apartment’s security spotted and escorted them out.” San remarks, tongue pressing against his cheek.

“I know, don’t worry Iris got to the lecture first.” You retort, pinching the bridge of your nose once you sit down on his uncomfortable sofa, damn hangovers.

San pulls open a drawer and passes you a bottle of aspirin, which falls to the floor thanks to your slightly altered (and loss of ) coordination. You mumble words of gratitude and dry swallow two.

“So how mad is everyone?” You ask meekly, not meeting his eyes.

“Well, no one really is. It got you more buzz and sales but there is a broken-hearted girl to think about.”

Shit, Mijoo.

You get up in a flash and take San’s unopened energy drink with you, as you exit his office you hear him yelling at you.

“Why does your apartment have shelves at the front door anyways?!”

It’s when you get outside and the fresh air hits that you realise you have no idea what to do. Woolim is a twenty minute walk at best, you have no idea if Mijoo will even be there but it’s worth a shot. On the way you stop to get two cans of iced coffee and hope she’s still feeling kind after what you pulled last night.

The Woolim building is finally in sight and you push the door open and are stunned to see Mijoo on the other side. Her eyes are glassy and swollen and she isn’t giving off her usual bright aura, but still she smiles at you.

“Hey, trying to hit me?” She jokes with a wry laugh.

“Mijoo...can we talk?” 

“Um…” She looks anywhere but your eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

“Seungah, five minutes is all I need. Then if you want I’ll never talk again.” You plead, she sighs but accepts, turning back and leading you to the private back ‘garden’ which is just concrete and a bench.

“Thank you.” You say, bowing your head a little. She laughs and takes a coffee out of the plastic bag when you sit down.

“Formalities aren’t needed between us, what do you want?”

Her bluntness catches you off guard, up close you can see mascara has seeped around her eye bags and dried up. She definitely knew what had happened but wanted to hear it from you, which petrifies you. How are you supposed to casually say the truth and not get punched in the face?

“I know you saw the picture but you need to hear it from me,” You begin, licking your lips. “I kissed Chan, he didn’t return my feelings and he’s probably going to try to take half the blame.”

Mijoo’s facial expression doesn’t change and she takes a sip of coffee, folding her lips into a thin line after she swallows the bitter liquid. 

“I don’t think he ever got over you.” She admits in a downcast tone. “When we started dating he told me he’d always love you a little bit, I just didn’t think you'd come back for him.”

“I didn’t come back for him,” You clarify, “I had no intentions of...any of this. I’m really sorry and I won’t come between you two again. It’s strictly business from now on, you have my word.”

“Why are you so keen on keeping us together?” She says, stunned.

“I don’t want to be the reason anyone is hurt.” 

“What about you then? Won’t this hurt you?”

You don’t reply, instead returning the same kind smile she had given you. Of course it’ll hurt you, but you can’t bear the weight of hurting anyone the way you did, even Chris. For so long it was all you wanted, for him to feel the pain you did that night in his car.

A week passes by in a flash, between schedules and training you haven’t had any time to dwell on Chan which is nice for once. San and Iris make sure to keep you up to date on what he’s been up to since you shooed him away like a bad dog.

Luckily fake media reports of you two being spotted have been enough to keep the ‘break up’ rumours at bay for now. Eventually you will have to face him, but if Mijoo’s Instagram story is any indication, it’s a happy one of them and their daily coffee trips. Meanwhile all your days are spent in the dance studio, trying to perfect your end of year performance.

Your newest track took two weeks alone to record, it was yet again a song you hadn’t intended on releasing. The lyrics were about being drunk, horny and sad which are emotions you felt most days. The choreography was the most challenging part, primarily because you weren’t much of a dancer to begin with. 

“Perfect!” Your teacher, Hyolyn praises with a satisfied smile.

You collapse on the floor and try to catch your breath, taking a second to gulp down water. Although it’s  hard work, it was extremely rewarding. According to San, you’re predicted to win two awards and nominated for four which was insane considering last year you were #9 on ‘Top 10 least watched debuts’. 

“How close am I to acing this?”You ask, completely drained.

“I’d give it a week.” Hyolyn replies after taking a second to evaluate you.

Groaning, you lie down on the hardwood floors and shut your eyes. The performance was in nine days, giving you little to no time to rest. Iris also had you booked for three days of practicing your makeup for the show, which included intricate and trendy tattoo art all over your arms and littered over any other revealed areas, for hair you would be wearing a wig, lighter than your own hair but similar to how it looked in a recent magazine spread. 

It was all down to you to ace this performance, and you only had one shot.

“Y/N? Y/N L/N!” 

San’s voice snaps you back to your senses, he guides you up from the floor and gives you a once-over and decides you look fine. Then, without a word, drags you down through the busy city and into a quaint cafe, filled with greenery and flowers galore. You spot Wooyoung’s blonde hair behind the counter and smile knowingly, of course.

“Am I here to third wheel?” You joke, elbowing his ribs.

“Shut up, We’re here for you to experience a delectable latte topped with chocolate art and if you’re good I’ll buy you a bean bun.” 

You sit down on an empty chair without a word, smiling up at him. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for a fresh bean bun, especially if it’s free. San goes up to the counter, his laugh echoes around the small area when Wooyoung makes a little joke involving word play. Minutes later, a steamy cup of coffee is in front of you with a cute little bunny made of white liquid and you can’t help but look down in amazement.

“Good, right?” Wooyoung beams, full of well-deserved confidence.

“Amazing,” You gush, taking a sip reluctantly, not wanting to ruin the illustration. 

Wooyoung takes a bow and walks back to the counter, brewing up another order in no time, San watches intently resting his chin in the palm of his hand. What an idiot, you think, although you’re slightly envious no one looks at you that way. 

Several more cups and bean buns later, you leave the lovebirds to return home for some well needed rest. Today is the only actual real chance of resting up before the real work begins, even the thought makes your body ache. But all that fades away when you see a familiar face at your door, Chan.

“Chan?” You say bewildered, “Why are you here?”

“Can we talk?” He asks, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away again.

“Okay.”

Five minutes later he’s sitting across the coffee table, stirring a cup of instant coffee and not saying a word. What is there to say? You were both drunk exes longing to relive old times, Yes you would always love him but he wasn’t yours anymore, he hadn’t been for years.

You weren’t the same person, the cheap electric guitar you’d adored has spun into a customised Fender, his dark curls had been swapped for blonde locks that hung across his face. You had loved and lost him, found him and begun the cycle again.

“Why did you try to lie to Seungah?” 

“She’s your girlfriend, you clearly care about her and I didn’t want you to lose that because of a stupid mistake.” You say, even though it was no mistake on your behalf.

Chan laughs dryly in response, eyes becoming unreadable and dark.

“You didn’t want me to fuck you that night?” 

Before you can reply he's standing up, walking towards you and clearly loving that in your seated position he towers over you. He notices your thighs are shut as much as they can be and coos. 

“Is that all it takes, huh?” He says, mocking your tone from that night. “As much as you love pushing me around and belittling me, you love to be put in your place don’t you?”

A strained sound leaves your throat and you try to push it away, the feeling of wanting him to be in control, to be vulnerable for him. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt a handful of times and always with him. You knew he was just frustrated and feeling rejected, if anything did happen you’d wake up alone to a regretful voicemail.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, I would call you dumb but that would turn you on.” You finally retort, standing up to fully enjoy the flush of humiliation come over his face.

“Know your place.”  

“Kiss me,” He pleads, soft eyes full of stars. “Just once more.”

You swallow thickly, once more is all he’s asking for. Hesitating for a second, you raise your arms and gently take his face into your hands, thumbing over his jaw the way he likes and press your lips against his. The kiss is firm and chaste, much unlike the last one that was filled with hunger and urgency, this...feels final. Neither of you pull away, Chan deepening the kiss more and settling on wrapping his arms around you over his oxygen levels. 

You feel tears starting to pool within your closed eyes and it burns, finally pulling away when it all becomes too much. His warm disposition is so apparent in his teary eyes and it hurts more than ever, you drop your hands from his face and he takes them into his own, a bittersweet feeling coming to the surface.

“Goodbye again, Y/N.” Chan says with a smile, letting go your hands and heading towards the door.

“Goodbye, Chris.” You reply in a faltering tone, turning away as he shuts the door behind him. 

You’re left sobbing on the linoleum floors of your apartment, ignoring various buzzes from your phone hours later when you finally calm down enough to sit on the couch and numbly stare at the flickering TV. Then it comes up on a pop music channel, your face and his with the headline: Bang Chan and Y/N announce break up. 

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I know it’s been a minute. I’m always thinking about these stories because I want to finish them, just can’t seem to focus on writing at the moment.  Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Part iv - Date with Destiny

Finding Ivar Lothbrok should have been easy. Between the two of them, he was the stable one. He was the one with the iron-clad schedule that consisted of drinking, smoking, and partying. Torren’s schedule was a bit more... fluid. She tended to go wherever the wind, or whatever car she acquired, would take her. Naturally, Ivar had the occasional meet-and-greet, red carpet, and/or Comic-con engagement that he had to attend, still, he was pretty easy to keep tabs on. All one had to do was look at (stalk) his social media accounts, and his whereabouts were posted for everyone to see.

Knowing where he’d be and finding out where he lived were a different story. Torren had done her due diligence when it came to locating the town in which Little Kattegat was located. It only took about two days and a few Google image searches of the background of a few of the photos and she had it narrowed down to a general area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

From what she could tell, the closest town to where he lived was pretty small, and there were only a few large estates hidden in the woods. How hard could it be to find? She was willing to drive to every single house and knock on the door to find him if she had to. But it would just be easier if there was loud music and a bunch of cars in the driveway. That way she could tag along inside with the rest of the guests to get to her man. 

Her shirt landed in the pile of dirty clothes in the center of the bed, as she reached around to unhook her bra. “I really need to tell Baby Boo to stop putting all of his business out in these streets,” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “What if some crazy, psycho bitch started stalking him, or some shit? Then I’d have to kill a bitch.” Torren’s head whipped around and she narrowed her eyes at his picture, still stuck on her wall, “Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to cut a bitch to prove to you how much I love you? I will, Bae! You know I would do anything for you. I’m your Ride or Die...” 

And being his Ride or Die meant that she needed to keep better tabs on him if she was going to protect him from someone crazier than her, God forbid.  She was only able to do so much on this prepaid phone, and going to the library to get online was becoming a pain in the ass. 

She’d considered stealing a laptop or iPad from the library but was still on the fence about the idea. Of course, the alternative meant going to stupid ass libraries and threatening little kids to get off the fucking computers, and that completely sucked ass. 

She always felt rushed when she logged onto her Bae’s Only Fans page from the public library. Without fail one of those little bastard kids would get the library Nazis to kick her off the computer, or bar her from the library altogether for watching porn. 

Ivar’s page wasn’t porn! It was art. It was sexy. It was love...his love for her. Stupid bitches. 

She had encountered far worse things than getting kicked out of the library, but some of these small towns usually only had one or two within their county limits. If she got banned, how was she supposed to check up on Ivar? In the time it took to log in until she got kicked out, she'd be lucky if she could check 2 of his accounts. What if he had some important information on another platform that she hadn’t checked yet? What was she supposed to do then?

Her relationship with Ivar was hanging in the balance, and she'd be damned if some snot-nosed kid or fucking uptight librarian would fuck that up. She needed a computer. But, on the flip side, when she finally got her man back, she wouldn't need one anymore. She could ask him directly what their plans were.

There was a lot to consider and that took time; time that she didn't have right now.

The thick layer of Nair shaving cream she had applied to her already hairless crotch, was just starting to tingle, signaling she had about 5 minutes left before the sweat-inducing, burning sensation would kick in alerting her to wash the cream off. Until then, she had time to consider an outfit for the night.

She knew Ivar well enough to know that he would want her to be sexy for him, but not so much to distract him from work. She could have gone for something slutty, like those skanky bitches he partied with. She could have gone for more demur, but then she would remind him too much of his bitch ex-wife and completely turn him off. The last thing she wanted on their first night back together was for him to be thinking about that bitch. She could have gone for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Torren never did simple. 

No, Ivar would want her to be herself. That's what he loved about her. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She would be sexy without being skanky; she would be demure without being a prude.

Fuck! It was already 7:33 p.m. How in the hell did she miss the beginning of his Live? Now she was running late.

She was supposed to be dressed and ready by the time his Live came on that way she could be out the door as soon as he finished. If she was going to make it to be on his Only Fans live stream tonight, she needed to get to his house before he got too distracted. Now, she’d have to watch his Live, while her cooch burst into flames before she had a chance to take a shower and finish picking out her outfit.

If there was one thing Torren was, it was punctual. It was bad enough that she was about 40 minutes outside of his town, but it could take her up to 2 or more hours to find his house. She only hoped that he didn’t plan on starting any real freaky shit on his Only Fans page until around midnight, cause it looked like she wouldn’t be getting there before then, anyway.  

With the smile still plastered on her face, Torren turned on the hot water for a shower, forgetting that the water didn’t get hot. She didn't mind, much, especially since the cold water gave her a break from the heat in her room. 

Phone in hand, she watched him, as she planted herself on the dirty bathtub floor, cross-legged, and started to get herself ready. Starting with her toes, she shaved each one, just below the knuckle, followed by her fingers, arms, pits, and each leg, from groin to ankle, three times. When the burning from her nether regions was so intense that she couldn’t tell her tears from the shower water dripping on her face, she quickly washed off the cream. 

All she could do was hope that she hadn’t broken the skin this time. The last time she had let that damn Nair stay on, just past burning, the skin broke and she bled. She was not having a bloody hoo-ha tonight. 

With that taken care of, she gently used the razor to remove any other pubes closer to the inside that needed to be removed. Then shaved her backside. When she had more time, she was going to get the internal hairs bleached, but she needed to find out what Ivar preferred. 

Shaving ate up so much of her time that she only had a few seconds to rub some body-wash that she had stolen from a drug store over her body and hoped it got rid of the smell of the summer heat. Her hair? Fuck it...she’d wash it another day, for now, this cold water would have to be enough. She’d spritz some perfume and hair spray in it and it would smell fine. 

Torren finished her shower, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet, only using a towel to wrap around her hair. She was glad it was so hot in her room that her hair would air-dry quickly. She finger-combed her damp tresses to complete that ‘just got out of bed, but it's styled’ appearance. She knew how much he loved when her hair looked like that. It would remind him of freshly fucked hair. 

She spent extra time applying her makeup, even using an extra dark, thick application of eyeliner. She usually went for more subtle warm colors. They matched her tan skin tone better. But, tonight, she had bold, dark makeup, complete with varying shades of purple and blue eye shadows, and dark purple lipstick.

Torren was glad that she decided to match Ivar’s clothes this evening. The swim trunks and smoking jacket he wore would compliment her beautifully. She wanted everyone to know that they dressed alike, the way real couples do. If he was going for less is more, so would she.

She settled on black leather chaps that tied up on the sides, and tight blue boy shorts that left the bottom half of her ass cheeks exposed. The blue shorts brought out the blue swirls in his trunks; she knew he'd appreciate that touch. Her top was a blue bandanna that she wore as a halter with a short black leather jacket with tassels on the sleeves. 

They screamed “couple” in her eyes.

Completely satisfied with how she looked, Torren locked the door to her motel room and started down the hall. She deliberately stopped by the window and peered through the partially opened blinds of the people staying next door to her. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the young couple inside. Judging from their appearance, they were too strung out to know who she was, or that it was her music that they constantly banged on the wall about. She didn’t care. She still flipped them off before making her way to the stairs. 

Reaching her hand through the busted window of the blue Ford Taurus to unlock the door from the inside. Torren slid into the driver's seat and leaned over to find the two cords that she had pulled out from under the steering column when she stole the car. Flicking the cords together, she listened as the engine reluctantly turned over.

She put the car in reverse, looked in the rear-view mirror at her makeup, then pulled out of the spot. As she turned onto the road leading to the highway, she listened to the knocks, bumps, and hisses that her car made. There wasn't time to do much about it now; not when she was on her way to get her man. But, she made a mental note to do something about it later in the week. The only thing she could do was turn the music up louder to drown out the car noise.

Truthfully, she should have stolen a better car than the piece of shit Taurus that she found in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart while driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma. There were plenty of better cars there to choose from but no one would have wanted to take this one. It was so sad looking that she took pity on it. She had been doing the owner of this crap car a favor, by taking it off of their hands. 

The car was truly fucked. The oil light stayed on, and it drank gas like her mother drank liquor. The car had protested every inch of the ride across the three states that she traveled through in one day. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before that piece of shit breathed its last breath.

She needed to get gas again, but fuck that car. She had already refueled four times since she stole it. Gas wasn't cheap and she wasn't putting another dime in that gas guzzler. Speaking of money, she made a mental note to steal another credit card. It would only be a matter of time before the owner of the one that was tucked snugly between her left breast and strapless bra, would eventually realize that it had been lifted from the table in the diner, and canceled.

Laptop, butt bleaching, car, credit card, and more eyeliner from Walgreen's…her To-Do list was growing. She really needed to take some time off and take care of the necessities. Not tonight, though. She had other things to do. She couldn't do anything else, right now, but get to her man. Besides, once Lothbrok was by her side, he would help her remember all the things she needed to do.

As she came off of the highway exit smoke started billowing out from the engine. It backed up through the exhaust system, and came through the vents, inside the cabin. It was ironic – the air-conditioning vents in the car didn't work, but they seemed to work well enough to clog the inside of the car up with thick white smoke. She drove a few more miles before the smoke was so thick that she could no longer see. As she pulled the car over to the graveled shoulder of the road, the car knocked and shook, before it finally cut off.

Just her fucking luck.

She reached under the dash to flick the cords against each other again, trying to force the ignition to catch again, but it wouldn't. The engine had nothing left to give her. "Fuck Murphy and fuck his fucking law," she said calmly as she pulled the hood release.

She opened the car door, taking care to place both black, platform boots on the ground before lifting her backside from the seat. Placing her sunglasses on her eyes, she walked with one foot in front of the other to the front of the Taurus and placed her hand on the hood. It was hot, but not so hot that she couldn't feel under the front of the lever.

As she lifted the heavy metal hood and placed the rod in the slot to hold it in place, Torren let the smoke from the engine engulf her. It was quite a head rush breathing in the thick engine smoke through her nose, and exhaling it from her mouth. She patiently waited for the smoke to thin out before she bent, at the waist, over the engine. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that someone would see her looking over the engine and stop to help her.

Now, if only someone would actually come down this dark stretch of road, she could be back on her way to Ivar.

It didn't take long before a pair of headlights rounded the bend of the road, just off to her right. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she accentuated the leather, chaps against her hips, and lifted her ass higher in the air, to catch the driver's attention. She couldn't help but smirk when she heard the tires of a large vehicle turn onto the graveled pavement in front of where she broke down. She didn't turn to face the car or the driver. She didn't care who they were or what they looked like. She had an appointment to keep and this pit stop was fucking up her timetable.

"You need some help?" A deep voice asked as its owner approached her.

Torren took a moment to peer around the hood, noticing that there were no other cars around. "Broke down," she answered, continuing to bear her weight from one hip to the other. She placed her hands on the metal frame of the car, arched her back, and looked at the man over her shoulder. "You know something about cars?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving around to her side, looking at her, and not the smoky engine.

She gave him half a smile, as she noticed him notice her. "You a mechanic or something?" She asked standing up. She rubbed her hands together to remove some of the visible engine soot while considering the guy in front of her. He was about 6 feet tall with a moderate build. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and Timberland boots. He didn't look like he was more than 25 years old. Judging from the way he was looking at her and from the ring on his left hand, he wasn't too worried about her car, or his wife, for that matter.

"Nah, not a mechanic, but I work on my own car... in my spare time." He smiled when she did. She was gorgeous, in that slutty kind of way. She wouldn't be dressed like that and leaning over the hood of a car if she wasn't looking to have some fun. "Lemme take a look at it."

Did he work on his car? Hopefully, that meant that his ran better than hers did.

Torren moved over to the side and let him take the position under the hood. "I'll be right back," he explained before walking over to the bed of his F150.

Grabbing a flashlight from the trunk, he took a second to admire the view of her, from behind. If he could get her car moving again, she would hopefully follow him to this cheap motel he knew that was just up the highway.

He leaned in close, taking a whiff of her hair, "You overheated…want to check the coolant level."

She had heard him say something else but she had stopped listening; she was too busy watching the street. "You want me to try to start it?" she asked, removing her sunglasses before making her way to the driver's door. She wasn't sure if he answered or not. She had no intention of driving the Taurus again, even if he could get it started. She just needed to get something out of the car.

She slid into the seat and reached down on the floor. She found the hard metal object on the floor of the passenger's side and gripped it tightly. As she walked back around to the front of the car, she heard him talking, presumably about the car, or maybe he was asking her out. Who the fuck knows? She was on a tight schedule and all of his chatting was holding her up. She stood by the side of the hood, looking at the angle he was leaning over the hood. Quickly, she lifted her arm, and with one powerful blow, she struck him in the head with the crowbar that she used to procure her now-defunct car.

Torren stood over his body, looking at him intensely. God, it felt good. The rush of knowing that one minute this dude was towering over her, and the next he was on the ground. She had dropped his ass. She was the one with the power.

 "Thanks," she said, digging her hand in his pocket to retrieve his cash, credit card, and the keys to his truck. She wiped the blood on the crowbar on his shirt before walking to her new mode of transportation.

Torren sat in the truck's driver's seat and turned on the engine. She had managed to cross two things off of her To-Do list without even planning to.

Thank God the truck had air conditioning. All this heat and humidity was bound to make her hair frizzy. She cranked the AC up as high as it would go and sat still for a moment enjoying the cool air. After a minute, she adjusted the seat and tilted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She was starting to sweat and her eyeliner was starting to run just a bit at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed at the black liner to even out the lines, and then pushed the mirror back to where she could see. Giving the area another once-over, she made sure that no one else had seen her interaction with that guy on the ground, before pulling out from the gravel and onto the paved street.

"Ugh!" Torren yelled. Chester Bradley, the printed name on the credit card, had shitty taste in music. She pushed the stereo button on the steering wheel to do a scan of the radio. Anything was better than country music. Once she found some trap music on the XM radio, she turned up the volume and pulled back onto the highway.

Part iii/

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1  @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @revolution-starter​

[tvdsure]

Don’t jump to conclusions

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader, armin Arlert x fem!reader

genre: modern au, fluff and a bit of angst if you look hard enough

word count: 5.7k+

warnings: non

summary: eren has a tour so he’s leaving for three months, you’re absolutely broken but that feeling fades when armin comes over to stay at your place; however, eren isn’t too okay with that idea.

The wind advances through my hair, the jet black locks flowing loosely. It felt magical. However, nothing good ever lasts, they say, and they're right. Eren is leaving. He’s got a huge offer in England to work for this huge band, he's really exhilarated about it and couldn't pass it off, not to mention that it was only a global tour; nonetheless, i'll miss him drastically. 

He reminded me constantly that it’s only three months and that he'll be back in the blink of an eye. I know it won't be like that though, nothing will be like that. I’ve always done everything with him, even before we got together he, armin, mikasa, annie and I were always hanging out. Me and eren were always more than childhood friends though, we both knew that, he took me on our first date when we were 14. I remember  it just like it was yesterday, him anxiously fidgeting as if I would reject him. That date was the first of many.

“Baby,” he starts as he lifts his hand from my thigh and to my hand that was on the light pink bag. He gently caresses the back of my hand as he raises it to his lips and an immediate smile sneaks it’s way to my lips. He is such a sappy romantic but I swoon for it.

“I know you don't like the fact that I have to leave, I don't too, baby. But please promise that you won't lock yourself up in the apartment till I come back. I need you to be okay, i cant handle the fact of you being devastated in our apartment.” he smiles lightly against my skin as he keeps kissing up my arm. Till he reaches my shoulder then I scoot closer to him, pressing my lips against his.

He pulls away quickly after a few seconds to keep an eye on the road and I smirk seeing his distressed face. “Baby, we’re on the road!” he whines and I chortle once again as he does too.

For the rest of the ride I mostly sit there ‘vibing with the music subconsciously as Eren keeps a hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his cigarette. His arm extends to rest on the window as he occasionally bends his arm to bring the cigarette to his mouth then back onto the window. He’s always been thoughtful, caring about my health a little more than he should. He’s so protective, whenever he was smoking he wouldn't allow me in the room and he’d tell me to exit till he’s done, seeing as it is not an hourly thing or is something that repeatedly happens, I leave him.

The music carried me as I started falling asleep. I rested my head against the window and both my hands were left against my bag. He then, quite gently, takes one of my hands to attach his lips to it once again. I swear, he makes my knees weak with every move and I’m not even standing.

“I love you so much y/n, please I’m begging you to take care of yourself, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.” He tranquilly whispers while taking my hand to his lips one more time then letting them go -very gently- he would never hurt me, I know that.

Slowly, I swirl around to indicate that I’m waking up and I sense his immediate guilt forming, thinking he woke me up.

“‘We there yet?” I ask quietly. He hums, demonstrating a yes.

“Yeah, just got here.” His soft voice radiated immediate warmth towards me. Being next to him makes me so happy, I don’t want that to end, ever.

After hearing his words I stretched a bit then took the water bottle from the handle and took a sip of it when Eren suddenly hit the brakes. The cold water that was once flowing down my throat, is now all over my red outfit.

“That guy just stopped out of-“ he quickly cut himself off when he saw my soaked status.

“Oh my God, baby I’m so sorry, are you okay?” quickly, he tried to get tissues and I giggled lightly. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just water, It’ll dry in the chilly weather anyways.” He calmed down and I smiled at his actions. He’s such a caring person, I don’t know what I’ll do without him.

“Okay and…” he put an arm on my seat as he tried to park correctly. I smile as I take in his features, the white lights illustrating his demeanor. Gray piercing eyes glowing illuminatingly in the moon, he looked so handsome like that. With me. Next to me. Not away from me on the other side of the world.

“Done, let’s go, actually you stay here and I’ll move my bags, you can just get ready.” He knows that before I get out of the car I like to do a few things, it takes me three minutes to get ready. 

“Okay, I love you.” I chant as he smiles at me.

“I Love you more, gorgeous.” A blush forms on my cheeks at the cute nickname he gave me and I grin while looking at the mirror to get ready.

I fix some of my makeup then spray extra perfume. Once I’m done and feel satisfied I get out of the car only to see Eren already down with all two bags out. 

“Okay so these are the bags that I’ll let them take then this one,” he points to a smaller bag, “I’ll take with me on the flight, good?” I nod and walk over to him wrapping my hands around his neck.

“I love you.” I remind once again and he chuckles lightly then kisses my nose.

“I love you more.” 

——————-——————-——————-————-

“That’s it, I guess now I should go.” I said softly as he was showing his passport to the lady who let him in. This was the furthest I could go, I despise that.

“I’ll miss you so much, princess.” He smiles at me and I give him a sweet one back, God I’m going to miss him so much.

“Yeah, me too.” With one hand on my waist, the other lightly touches my cheek and I sigh contently at his movements, I don’t want this to ever end. His thumb rubs over my bottom lips and I instantaneously attach our lips together.

After a few seconds we both pull away and I sense tears threatening to leave my eyes. “I don’t want you to leave, Eren please don’t leave me.” I felt horrible about how selfish I am being but I was just voicing my inner thoughts, I really don’t want him to go.

“Angel…” he cooes and I feel a tear rip from my left eye. The salty, cold droplet against my skin creates a burning sensation. “You know that if that’s really what you want I can arrange it, right? If you don’t want me to go then just say it and I’ll tell them to find a drummer.”

My thoughts become clouded by supplemental cologne. I felt dizzy just hugging him. He leaned down, inching closer to me and kissed my lips.

The act of affection didn't surprise me but with tears in my eyes it was hard to focus on the kiss, so I didn't. I got lost in it.

“N-no, uh…” I stutter as I wipe my tears backing away from him completely, “I'm sorry, baby, I'm okay; plus, you have to follow your dreams, I am in no way going to stop you from that.” I smiled and he nodded lightly as he held my waist and pulled me into another hug.

After a few seconds, whilst tugging away he grabs my check and hands a light peck on my forehead.

“See you, handsome.” I chant and he laughs slightly at my enthusiastic tone.

“I’ll call you when I get there, pretty girl.” he chuckles then throws a wink my way as I fake a smile, afterwards I pull my eyes from his direction as they start to swell up with unstoppable tears.

——————-——————-——————-————-

I throw my shoes on the bedroom floor, my skirt and shirt along with it. On my bed lies an oversized hoodie, belonging to eren. I believe he left it here on purpose, for me. Without a second thought I put it on, feeling pleased with the warmth.

Just as I am about to finally close my eyes to sleep my phone rings in an obnoxiously loud way causing me to flinch and sigh heavily. “‘My baby💘👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 & miss hottie💞🥵 & gorgeous girl💕👩‍❤️‍👩 group chat....”’ I smile slightly at my phone seeing the screen and instantaneously grab my phone to answer.

“Heyy!” I intone and the three females wave at their screens.

“Hey y/n!” Historia exclaims as I smile at her zeal while she talks with me about her day. Mikasa is sitting there listening with the same bored expression on her face, on the other hand, Annie is quite invested in whatever is behind her screen. I’ll take a wild guess and say that she’s also listening to Armin and that's why she’s muted.

“Yeah, but overall it was quite boring, although Mikasa did prank me but that’s a different story.” She laughed and I did too. She’s so adorable. I love her innocence and that pretty smile of hers, it makes me so happy knowing I'm one of her best friends.

Historia and Mikasa are roommates; when they both wanted the same apartment yet found it to somehow cost a lot of money they decided on splitting the rent.

“God I can only imagine one of Mikasa’s pranks, I would honestly just faint, you’re scary as hell.” I add and all four of us chuckle as Mika glares at me but eventually crakes up with us.

After a while I check the time ‘11:16’ it reads, that means we’ve been talking for two and a half hours. I can't stall for sleep anymore.

“Guys, I'm gonna go to sleep now.” I question and they all nod consecutively.

“Love you, bye.” after i get i love you too’s from all of them i press the large red button covering my phone as it takes over the screen with a bright red making me squint lightly.

I change my LED lights to green, get under the blankets and slip my legs round the pillow as I shift into a more comfortable position.

“‘Ocean boy💙📖’ ‘Ocean boy💙📖’ ‘Ocean boy💙📖’” siri chants as i groan once again, armin your timing could not be more impeccable!

“Hello?” I answer with a grumble as I hear him chuckle lightly. He’s actually making me feel better by just hearing his voice.

“Asleep, sweetheart?” I nod but then remember that he can’t actually see me so I just let a light ‘mhm’ out as I shift again. Me and Armin's late night calls last endless hours so I'll be here for a while.

“Well, I won't keep you up too long, just wanted to ask if I can come over right now?” a smile makes itself onto my face and i eagerly answer,

“Of course, you’re always welcome at any time, that’s kind of why you have my keys, idiot.” he laughs at my retort and hangs up. That was quick… too quick.

I was also kind of expecting a reason as to why he’s spending the night here but I guess I'll get that when he comes over.

——————-——————-——————-————-

The sunshine radiated bright light into my eyes, stingin it ever so slightly. I stretch a bit when I feel a body lying next to me. An ample of cologne fills my nose; ‘212 vip black extra’, I can recognise it from miles away. 

“Armin?” I mumble, still half asleep. 

“Yeah?” he groans when I move a minor step away, “no, please i am finally able to sleep, stay.” he pouts so I giggle then get back under the covers.

After some minutes passing I pry myself away as I replace my body with a pillow.

“I can notice the difference between a pillow and you, sweetheart.” he chuckles, still lethargic and I grin at his comment but let him sleep as I get to the kitchen to cook breakfast up.

“‘Forever and always💓💍’ facetime ‘forever and always💓💍’ facetime ‘forever and always💓💍’ facetime” my phone annotates what’s written on the screen and my face lit up almost instantly.

I answer and put the phone against a bowl so I can check on the pancakes. “Hey, beautiful.” I hear his voice say, already feeling the smirk forming on his face, because of my blush,  even from millions of kilometers away.

“Hey, baby.” I answer as I set the timer and take a piece of gum as I start leaving the kitchen to sit on the couch.

“How was the flight?” I ask randomly as I see him tidying up his bed so he can go to sleep.

“Energy-consuming but it went smoothly, want to say hi?” I nod rapidly as he chuckles.

“y’all, say hi to y/n.” He announces and I wave at ymir, pieck, Sasha and Connie, they all do the same whilst smiling kindly.

Sasha ( the lead singer) is nibbling on some chips whilst her laptop is open, some light noise is heard so i'm assuming she’s on netflix. Ymir (band leader and lead Guitarist) is on facetime with someone, probably historia, and she’s also making her bed for bed. Connie (rhythm Guitarist) has his head on Sasha's lap, watching whatever she’s watching to probably entertain himself, nothing more, it looks as if he’s bored though. Pieck (bassist) is on her guitar playing loosely on some strings - probably out of fatigueness.

“Hey girl.” Sasha greets and I blow her a kiss.

“Hi y/n.” ymir accosts then goes back to historia quickly.

“Love, how are you?” Pieck salutes with a smile and her accent brings happiness over me, finally I can hear my best friend talk to me again. She was never free and especially now with the tour but at least I got to hear her again.

“y/n! How have you been? I've missed you, y/n/n.” Connie welcomes with a rhapsodic tone, he even called me by my nickname, which hardly anyone does.

“Hey guys, I'm doing great and I've missed you so much more, I can't wait to celebrate your tour when you come home.” I told them, they all smiled at me and thanked me as eren got out of this room and to his. They’re in a hotel until he is able to actually start the tour, which should be in two days tops.

“I miss you already.” I flatter. He laughs and then tells me ‘I miss you too’ in addition to that he, and I quote, ‘can’t live without me for that long’.

“And here I am thinking I am the one who’s going to be clingy.” he rolls his eyes at my sassy comment and we both burst out laughing.

“Y’all are way too loud.” I hear Armin groan from behind me as I laugh at his comment. Looking back at Eren, I see his face drop, I don't understand why though.

“Look, y/n, i’ll talk to you in the morning.” he quickly states and i give him a weird look but comply.

“Oh, okay then, I lo-” he hung up. There has never been one call where we didn't end it with affection, with one too many i love you’s, with too many compliments, with too many hope your day is absolutely amazing’s… what’s wrong?

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Armin says and I smile at him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” he chuckles as i see him making two cups of coffee.

“It’s fine, I can make it. I was going to but eren called, you can just go watch something if you want.” I say as I walk up to the kitchen, but the two cups was already smelling fantastic. The smell of strong coffee beans was immaculate and it made me feel warm.

“Here.” he hands me my cup and a quick kiss on the forehead before grabbing a fork and flipping the pancakes that I forgot about completely. That is exactly why I let Eren cook everyday.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry armin, I’m horrible at this cooking thing.” I apologize laughing lightly to not sound too serious.

“Don’t worry, I do it for Annie everyday. Got used to it, sweetheart.” I nod and smile as he drinks the coffee in his hand whilst mailing breakfast and I just check Instagram.

~Jeagerbomb~ is active.

Why would he do that? Wherefore would he lie to me like that? I don’t even get why he’s so mad either, why is he making a big deal out of literally nothing!

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s with the long face?” Armin asks as he slouches next to me.

“Eren is ignoring me, he’s clearly active yet he wouldn’t talk to me because he ‘wants to sleep’ but he’s awake and scrolling through instagram,” i take a deep breath and keep going, “this is exactly what i was afraid of. I hate that he can just turn off our call at any time and I can't disagree and then not knowing what he’s doing all alone. But when we’re together I can get it out of him, I can convince him to tell me why he’s mad then we’ll fix it.” 

“y/n, Eren won’t stay mad at you for long, he never can. In the morning call him and check if everything is alright but for now you can’t be upset the whole day.” he reassures and I nod quietly.

“Enough about my problems, I want to know why you called me in the middle of the night like that and then said that you were finally able to sleep?”

“Me and annie got into a huge fight.” he explained, fidgeting with his fingers that were on his lap, “i tried fixing it but she wouldn’t listen to me, she kept saying how i don’t love her anymore and that she feels me drifting apart…” he zoned out for a second probably remembering exactly what happened.

“She even accused me of cheating on her.” I could see the tears sliding down his check as he quickly wiped them. “I love her, y/n, I really do, I don't understand why she doesn't trust me. I have never given her a reason not to, I mean, did I do something?" 

Armin looks heartbroken and it kills me that he feels like he did something wrong. Annie might be feeling insecure but it doesn't make sense to just lash out on armin like that.

“Why does she think you’re cheating?”

“I came home late yesterday and she automatically assumed the worst, I don't follow her logic though, she’s been very insecure lately which is driving me crazy. I just want her to trust me, y/n.” Practically feeling the tears he was letting go of, I hugged him tightly hoping to make him feel only a bit of reassurance. 

“Armin, I hope you don't mind me asking but why did you come home late?” he shuffled in his seat and let go of me.

“I was looking for a gift for our 2 year anniversary coming up this Wednesday, I couldn't tell her though, I kept begging her to just have some trust in me. It hurt seeing how easily she thought I could cheat on her. I give Annie everything I have and can give her, I don't know how else to prove my love to her.”

“I know Armin, I know, it's okay. Annie isnt stupid, she knows you would never do that to her, just give her sometime.” he nods and we stay in that position. It’s relaxing. Knowing that he is here for me, and me for him.

We spent the whole day together in my house. We did all kinds of things, sang a bit, danced around, baked up some brownies, had too many energy drinks and tried to call Annie but she didn't answer.

Once it was 09:30 pm, Armin went into the shower and I was on my phone, waiting for him so we could go buy some things from the grocery shop.

Scrolling through instagram i saw an article concerning Eren, normally i hated these but it actually caught my attention; ‘Eren Jeager seen with co-star Pieck Finger’. I can almost hear my heart thumping inside of my throat. It burns, badly. That isn’t true, it can’t be, Eren loves me. My first instinct is to call him but that thought is forgotten when Armin comes out of the shower, asking for something. He was still in a towel, one that covers his waist and the other around his hair as he moves it throughout.

The veins in his arms protruded beneath his pale skin, he’s drying his hair with the towel, clasping and unclasping his hand as an indication of comfort as he slid the towel on his hair down and into the laundry bin. 

“y/n, where’s my shirt?” he asks whilst his eyes are darting around. I nuzzled my face into the soft pillow case, tear stained cheeks leaving wet smears on the fabric. 

“You’ll find it on the kitchen counter.'' I sniffle lightly and hope he doesn't notice my broken voice. It was late, almost 10:00 pm and I'm here; curled in a loose ball under a stack of velvety blankets breaking down. I pulled the t-shirt I'm wearing over my nose as I heard him mutter a ‘thank you’ then get out to get changed. 

Taking a deep inhale and drowning myself in the sweet scent of my boyfriend’s t-shirt, or atleast, I hope he’s still my boyfriend. The t-shirt was one that he said was his favourite, it’s scent drove me fanatical as I kept taking more of it in, hoping all my worries would just fade into it.

“Incoming call from ‘jaegerbomb’,Incoming call from ‘jaegerbomb’,Incoming call from ‘jaegerbomb’” 

Hesitantly, my fingers scanned the phone a couple of times before I answered.

“Hey, y/n'' I hear from the other side of the phone. His voice doesn’t sound too enthusiastic but he also didn't seem bothered. No emotion.

“Hey, Eren.” I answer back and the line goes dead silent. He doesn't talk for about a minute, why did he call if he was just going to breathe into the phone the whole time?

“Oi, y/n, I still can’t find my shirt.” Armin approaches and my eyes go wide at what he says. This may be totally normal because I understand what’s happening but eren on the other hand, may understand it in a different way.

“Oh, try the living room.” he nodded and strolled away. I can practically hear Eren trying to control his temper because of what he heard but I know my answer assured him to some extent. I mean, I wouldn't answer armin if i was actually cheating.

“y/n what’s armin doing at your place?” The vexation is visible in each syllable he pronounces.

“He got into a fight with Annie last night, decided to stay at my place till they’re fine again.” I elaborate with insureness in my voice. I'm trying to sound as confident as possible but my throat becomes too dry to form assertive words.

“Couldn’t he stay in reiner’s or even Mikasa’s?” The annoyance was quite conspicuous as he keeps complaining.

“Eren! I can't kick him out because you’re somehow jealous, he is our best friend and in need of a place to stay. What would you do if I kicked you out?”

“Not stay at Annie's…” he mumbles and that was the last straw for me. 

“Excuse me?” I semi-yell into the phone, “are you saying that I should kick him out? Eren, he trusts me enough to tell me about his problems and for me to cooperate, how dare you even say that about your childhood best friend. He has been there for you every step of the way and this is how you repay him? By being a jealous boyfriend when he’s hurting?” exasperation ran through my blood as i let it out, he is being so unreasonable and i will not stand by this behavior.

“y/n, calm down! I’m just saying that it’s weird that he came to you. I don't like the idea of this happening without your boyfriend supervising.”

“You don't trust me?”

“What? No that’s not what I'm saying, I trust you y/n, wholeheartedly.”

“However, you have the audacity to say that you need to supervise me and armin’s hangouts?”

“Don't be like that, I don't mean it that way. I trust both of you, nonetheless, it just scares me that I'm not there, I mean…” he stops for a few seconds and I somehow make out a sniffle, “baby, what if you fall for him again? I wouldn't blame you, he's everything I'm not but I just don't want you to go. Please y/n, I don't want you to leave me.” 

“Eren,” my tone immediately softens at his change, he’s feeling insecure?

“I love you, okay?”

“Okay…” 

“No, I mean it. I love you more than i love myself and any human on this earth, i love you so much eren and i would never trade this for anyone else. I promise I'm not going anywhere, baby.” it shattered me, the fact that i have to say this to remind him how in love with him i am. He’s my everything, I would never give that up for any other human.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you more.”

——————-——————-——————-————-

After me and eren caught up on everything else, assured each other and talked over some stuff, we ended the call as he was getting called into rehearsals.

“Hey, y/n.” I hear Armin's soft voice speak from behind the door as he slowly comes in and I let him enter. He is fully dressed but his hair is still wet and it looks really cute on him.

When eren mentioned me falling for armin ‘again’ he meant when we were both best friends long ago. Five years ago, I had the biggest crush  on Armin, it was known. Everyone knew it, even he did but we never confessed to one another, too cowardly to do so. I know he used to like me back though. We joke about the situation now, a small laugh; yet, eren never got over it. He always took it quite personally because Armin is ‘everything he isn't’ in his eyes. He’s always been insecure about that but I thought he trusted me, I thought he would let go of these worries if it’s me we’re talking about. I figured out worries are worries and he’ll feel that way. The only thing I can do is assure him and help him.

“Yeah?” I answer as I reopen twitter to have a chortle before going to bed.

“I'm sorry, for everything. Being a burden on both you and eren, for what happened with Annie, with how I'm disappointing you guys and everyone else. I'm so sorry.” The break in his voice was sorrowful as his eyes diverted the gaze from me to anything else around the room.

“No, oh my God. Armin you aren't a burden and definitely disappointing anyone. Annie is mad, for an invalid reason, it’s fine. If you heard anything, which I'm guessing you did, eren was also just furious with an invalid reasoning. And to me you are nowhere near a burden or such. Don't doubt yourself, ever.”

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for all of this, making me stay over and your constant affirmation.” I smile slightly at him and get out of bed to hug him. We stay in the position for what feels like hours, his hands on my waist, my arms slung around his neck.

When we pull apart he looks into my eyes for a few seconds, his ocean blue eyes glowing enchantingly. They were beautiful, trancing, and I couldn't stop myself from being so intrigued by the stories behind them.

Suddenly, I snap out of the stupor I was once in. quickly, i push him away as we both pant lightly, the air seemed to become limited in the room as we both gain back our consciousness.

“y/n-”

“Armin-uh. I think I'll go to bed early. If you can't find anything in the fridge you’re welcome to go to the hypermarket. Goodnight.” he looks at the floor quietly as he moves out of my room.

I'm screwed.

I can't believe we just had a moment. No, absolutely not, just two friends hugging, that’s all. Eren will despise me, how can I be such a hypocrite? I have to tell him, I just have to.

Never mind, I won't tell him, he doesn't need to know anyways.

Silent. The room was cleansed and cleaned top to bottom whilst I was asleep. The lights are renewed, I can smell pastries from downstairs and (this next one is a shock) no one is sleeping next to me.

“Armin?” I call out loudly yet no one answers.

I get up, rubbing my eyes before noticing the large cup of hot coffee on my nightstand. The steam flowing, making sure to inform me that it was just made and brought to me.

Taking the cup of coffee in my hand, I saunter down the stairs deciding to take a sip of the perfectly made coffee. He made it just right and the way I like it, but it scares me knowing that after what happened yesterday night he still did it for me. Is he catching feelings again?

“Sweetheart, hey.” I cringe slightly at the name and I can practically feel his heart race at my reaction. He’s right here in front of me, calling me sweetheart and cooking breakfast after what happened yesterday? Unacceptable.

“I mean-- y/n.” it’s no secret he’s mentally face palming himself right now but i honestly find it adorable that he did that by just seeing my reaction.

“y/n, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened yesterday but I know that you’re infuriated by it and now won't talk to me. You even hate ‘sweetheart’ and I've called you that since we were like what? 14? I just don't want things to get weird between us, you’re my best friend, eren is my literal brother and Annie is my girlfriend. I just hope you aren't mad at me. I swear I'm not going to try anything of any sort. I'm going to Mikasa and Historia's place after breakfast, just wanted to do something as a thank you before i leave.” he ranted and i giggles softly when he finished, he;s so flustered by the time he’s done i find it a miracle he remembered to breath.

“Armin, you can stay as long as you want, honestly, don't worry about what happened. In fact, nothing happened at all, we’re best friends and I don't want to lose that. The nickname is very much acceptable, don't worry, I know you’re used to it.” he smiled and nodded then pulled me into a mug as i hugged back as the coffee mug in my hand jiggled.

We lug back from each other and beam at one another. Nothing wrong happened yesterday, why am I so worried?

——————-——————-——————-————-

“How was your day, angel?” Eren's deep voice filled my ear as I held the phone in a hand, the other picking out jewelry.

“Uneventful, me and Armin just spent the day together, Annie isn't answering him and he’s too scared to actually go there in case she kicks him out again or, worse,  breaks up with him.”

“I feel bad for him, I mean he didn't do anything really, maybe he should really go and test his luck.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the best option right now. He's trying to get ready, asked for a couple of your rings ‘cause he knows it’s something she likes.” he chuckles on the other end as a light laughter comes over me.

“Really want to swoon her over.”  he adds

“Found it!” i exclaimed as i found the set of rings that were just perfect for armin, they fit him perfectly and his style too, “Okay, let’s find him now.”

“Armin?” he pops into my room within a second with a tux put on (it looked really nice, may i add), he really cleaned up well; yet, his hair is still a mess. He can't do anything about his hair even if he tries.

“Here it is.” I call and he moves over to me as he takes the box with the set in it. He tries to pu it on but looks at me with wide eyes,

“What?”

“How do you even put all that on? That’s going to look horrible.”

“Are you doubting my skills, Arlert?” I test and eren laughs from the other side.

“Is that a challenge, jaeger? Okay then, I'll prove you both wrong.” they both chuckle and i take armin’s hand in mine, starting to move around the rings. It took three minutes but I did it, I got the best combination and how to put it. He looked great in my opinion.

“Woah, y/n, I seriously didn't give you enough credit.” Armin lets out a breath and I smile at his compliment.

“Okay time to send to eren!” I take my phone off of the table that has all of our jewelry on it then snap him a picture.

“You've done well, pretty girl.” he flatters once again and I smirk proudly.

“See? I told you guys.” Armin nods as eren hums and we both burst out in laughter suddenly.

“Okay, it’s getting late. Thank you for everything y/n, I couldn't have done any of this without you, not to mention I'd probably be homeless.” I nod and smile at him as he leaves the house. 

Everything, somehow, worked out in the end.

“Baby?”

“Yeah…” i answer, putting away the rest of the jewelry.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[honeybunny-sawamura]

Where My Heart Blooms

Pairings: Kita Shinsuke x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: yaho, darlings! First fic for the event ^-^ it may be a little early but Shan and I are running on JST so it’s Saturday here! Enjoy!

He must’ve dropped it during one of his rice deliveries. Kita Shinsuke patted the pockets of his pants, both front and back, and came up with only half a pair of his work gloves. This wouldn’t do; he still had a few rice paddies he needed to go through and there were too many stops in his morning deliveries to go back and check them all for just one glove.

He sighs and pockets the lonely glove, looking around the small-town center for a dollar store he can hop into. He spots one but the flower shop next to it catches his eye; they’re bound to have better ones than the dollar store. Plus, in the couple of times he has visited this small town, Kita has never seen this shop before. Judging by the glossy paintwork and the spotless décor, he guesses that it just opened up. He makes his way towards the flower shop, mind set on just getting the gloves he needs.

Yet when he steps inside, he’s in complete awe by what he’s greeted by: flowers of every type and color fill the little store to the brim, enticing people with their perky buds and sweet aroma. There are vases upon vases of various flowers and even the walls and ceilings have hanging flowerpots with colorful blossoms peeking from them. Kita feels like he’s walked into a wonderland as he takes in everything before him. With each step he takes inside, the young farmer is greeted by bundles of colors. He stops at each one to read the label cards before them; names of the plants all handwritten in a pretty cursive with little tips on how to care for them. He admires each flower he comes by, noticing that every one seems well taken cared for and handled with love. Whoever owns this little flower shop is putting their heart and soul into each bud and blossom.

“Hello! How can I help you today?” Kita looks up from the bunches of lilacs to see you, the flower shop’s owner, setting an empty vase down and offering him a friendly tilt of the head. He takes in a small breath at the sight of you; you’re as bright and beautiful as all the flowers he’s surrounded by and something in his chest starts to bud.

“Umm… I’m wondering if you sell any gloves? I need it for work and I lost one,” he tells you; even holding up the companionless glove as evidence. The sight of it makes you giggle and Kita thinks it’s the sweetest sound. You beckon him over to the back of the shop where the registers are. He follows, wondering how to start a conversation with you. A bunch of ideas whizz through his head but he grasps onto none. It’s even harder to think of a topic when you turn around to face him and flash a pretty smile while presenting to him where the gloves are: on one of the shelves near the paying counter.

“So you like flowers?” his mouth suddenly blurts out before his brain can decide what it should say. The fair-haired farmer has half the mind to just walk out of the shop in pure embarrassment but stays when you brighten up at his question.

“I do! It’s the reason why I opened this shop,” you reply and proceed to tell him your love for flowers. Kita listens intently to your every word, sometimes interjecting to ask you a genuine question or comment on the similar knowledge you two share. He swells a bit with pride when you commend him for his work as a rice farmer and providing high quality rice for the small towns around.

“It’s not a job most people will take, and it is grueling on most days but I quite like it,” he tells you and you admire him for it. You can see the hard work he puts in from the golden tan on his skin, calloused hands resting on the counter, and firm muscles peeking under his shirt. You blush slightly and distract yourself from staring more by talking about the start up of your shop. Kita finds the pink in your cheeks adorable but then again, he thinks everything about you is lovely. The way you speak so passionately about something you’re so fond of and readily share your experiences has the bud in his chest starting to sprout. Unfortunately, he can’t stay and talk with you more but along with the gloves he buys a pack of carnation seeds. You perk up at his additional purchase and throw in a little something for free to help with taking care of these flowers. Kita tries to pay for that inclusion, but you bargain with him to come back to the shop and update you with how the carnations go. He gives you the softest of smiles and promises to do so. You wave him farewell as he leaves your shop and both of you think of how you can’t wait to see the other soon.

Kita comes over the week after and judging by the delighted look he gives you; the carnations are coming out well. The young rice farmer tells you so and you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body when you can hear the elated tone in his voice and see the proud sparkle in his eyes. It makes you happy that he seems to be enjoying something you love. Like the week before, the two of you spend a good hour or so talking; this time getting to know each other. You tend to the flowers as he tells you about his high school days and he helps you water the buds as you share your own. Kita doesn’t stay long like last time, but he does buy another pack of flower seeds; this time it’s begonias. Once again, he promises to come back and update you on them.

This starts becoming a weekly thing for the two of you: Kita visits your flower shop and the two of you talk for a while about everything and anything. It could be about how his harvest is going or which high school buddy visited him recently. For you, it could be about the next batch of flowers coming in soon or how you miss your family. Sometimes there are other customers in the shop with the two of you and they often give a knowing glance. Both of you try not to dwell on that too long; clearing your throats and looking away from each other with pink stained cheeks. But whenever Kita leaves, he always buys a pack of flower seeds; each one different from the week before. You see him off with a tool or a tip to help the flowers grow and that he come back next time to update him on how they go.

Once he came into the flower shop with a pout on his face and you immediately knew that he was experiencing a hiccup with the new set of flowers he was trying to grow; hyacinths this time. He tells you his problem and even shows a picture on his phone of his predicament. You immediately notice what’s wrong and with a bright reassuring smile, you give him advice on how to fix it. The farmer’s mood perks up at that and he takes note to do as you say. Not wanting to leave the store empty handed, he buys a bouquet of your best flowers. “For my grandmother,” he tells you with the most affectionate tone that you make sure to wrap it in the best wrapping paper and tie the bow to the upmost perfection. You’ve heard about this wonderful woman from Kita and you take it upon yourself to have him give the prettiest bouquet to the woman who helped shaped him. The week after you feel warmth spread throughout your chest when he tells you how much his grandmother loved it and still has it sitting prettily in her favorite vase.

Weeks turn into months and soon Kita had a garden full of colorful flowers that he’s sure you’d be impressed by. He’s proud of each one and he tends to them fondly; they remind him of you. Every time he comes back from tending the seemingly endless fields of rice, seeing the small but bright garden blooming sweetly in front of his porch soothes him. He can see your lovely smile in the crocus, hear your laughter when the larkspurs blow in the wind, and smell your perfume in the amaryllises. Each seed he had bought from you grew and bloomed into beautiful flowers while his affections for you blossomed immensely in his chest. Kita could no longer deny that he looks forward to visiting your flower shop every week; yearning to see you and earnest to hear your stories for the day. Sure, the two of you exchanged numbers three months into your weekly meet ups and text often, but it wasn’t the same as talking to each other face to face. And while the two of you hinted to the other that you both wanted something more than just your weekly visits, neither of you could find the courage to ask the other out. You and Kita continuously danced around the concept of taking the relationship further that the people in the small-town center were wondering if they should take matters into their own hands. But they figured if fate wanted you and him to be together, it’ll happen.

Valentine’s Day was just a couple of days away and Kita was once again in your flower shop. It was busy with customers making reservations for Valentine bouquet deliveries and needing help with buying the right flowers for their loved ones. He watched you flitter about the shop, professional smile on full blast, as you suggest camellias to a customer only for them to insist on just roses. The fair-haired farmer helps you water some of the young buds as you finish up with this customer and watches you sigh as they finally leave so it’s just you and him.

“Valentine’s Day has you busy…” he comments while making his way towards you to the counter. You nod tiredly at him.

“Yeah… I knew this would happen. Lots of people wait to the last minute to reserve their Valentine’s Day bouquet. Was like that when I worked at my friend’s flower shop,” you take the watering can from Kita and thank him for the help before continuing,

“I like helping people with their bouquets. A lot of people pair the wrong flowers together or buy the wrong one to express their feelings, so I try to help. But most don’t care. They just go with the basic roses. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just… So many other flowers can express how much you feel about the person you’re giving them to.” Kita nods, remembering you had talked to him a little about flowers having meaning and symbolisms. You only taught him a few of them but he went home later that day and learnt a bunch more himself.

“Red camellias are symbols of love, passion, and deep desire,” he recalls out loud and he smiles when your eyes widen in surprise before crinkling in mirth.

“Right! See? They would have been perfect for that guy earlier!” you exclaim before sighing. It seems only Kita cares about what each flower symbolizes. He gives you an apologetic look, knowing something like this is important to you.

“Well, at least the people who’ll give you bouquets for Valentine’s Day will know you’ll appreciate them,” he starts but then tilts his head in confusion when you smile a bit sadly at his comment.

“I usually don’t get bouquets,” you confess, fiddling with the water can you took from him earlier. “Because people know I work with flowers, I get other things instead. I don’t mind but…” You don’t get to finish that sentence when a group of giggling college girls come in, all looking to get something for their special person for Valentine’s Day. You smile apologetically to Kita before you greet the young women and go over to help them. Kita doesn’t mind though as an idea pops into his head. He excuses himself from the flower shop and you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that you didn’t get to ask what he has planned for Valentine’s Day. Your heart sinks at the thought of him spending it with someone else but shake it off when one of the girls calls you over.

Valentine’s Day itself is incredibly busy for you and it’s filled with calls to and from delivery companies along with impatient customers or last minutes changes and cancellations. You don’t have time to think that you, yourself, have no Valentine’s of your own with everyone else bothering you to get their loved ones the best bouquets you have to offer. Even when you have time to breath, you’re checking stock and tending to the remaining flowers. A bundle of lavender has you thinking of a handsome white-haired farmer for just a moment, his serene smile and dark golden eyes making your heart do flips, before the shrill ring of the store’s phone jolts you and your hurry over to answer. The whole day is eventful and when the sun finally sets, you turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED in relief. You survey the shop and you’re quite pleased that most of your flowers have been bought out. A new shipment should be coming in tomorrow and you decide that you’ll set that up tomorrow. While you go to throw your work apron onto the counter, the bell to the shop jingles. You sigh, figuring that it’s a customer looking for that last minute gift. You turn around to apologize and tell them that the shop’s closed but the person speaks first,

“For the most beautiful girl in town.” You come face to face with a huge bouquet. You blink in surprise at all the colorful flowers that greet you and it takes you a moment to take them in your hands.

“I hope they’re umm… To your liking.” You lower the bouquet to see Kita Shinsuke standing before you, blush set on his cheeks and dressed in a nice gray dress shirt and black slacks. He looks so dashing in his outfit and a bit different from when he wears his work clothes; it’s all you ever see him in to be honest. Though there’s uncertainty swirling in his eyes, determination and affection shines from them and makes you blush. You avert your eyes from the intensity of his stare to which he misunderstands. He fidgets a little,

“Ah… I’m sorry I- Was I too…” he starts but you lift your gaze back at him and shake your head.

“No no! I-I… I just… I wasn’t expecting this,” you say softly, and you hug the bouquet slightly. You take a good look at it and realize that Kita had bought seeds for almost all of them. Were they…?

“They’re from the seeds I bought from here. I tried my best to grow them but… I know they’re not as beautiful as the ones you have in your shop…” Kita confesses humbly. Your heart wants to burst out of your chest at how sweet he’s being and that he plucked flowers from his own garden to give them to you for Valentine’s Day. And not only that, but you also see that he has picked certain flowers for their meaning and you fall more in love with him with each one you can define.

“Roses for love. Sunflower for adoration. Carnations can be love and admiration. Lilac to symbolize the beginning of love. And tulips for true love and… Hope.” You interpret aloud before returning your gaze at him. A smile blooms on your face when you see how pink he has become. Kita doesn’t know how to reply to you, but he extends one of his hands out to you. You don’t hesitate to reach out and slip one of yours into his and squeeze it softly. He takes a step towards you and you do the same to him. His golden eyes hold yours steadily, even when he reaches up with his other hand to brush a stray strand of your hair away from your face. You lean into his touch and the Kita’s features soften at that. He slowly leans down to press a kiss to your lips, hesitating for a moment, but you gently push forward and capture his lips with yours. The two of you share a sweet kiss in the middle of your flower shop and all the flowers sigh in content. Kita pulls away from you to take in how beautiful you look right now before whispering,

“Be my Valentine?”

“Yes.”

Taglist: @kiyoo-omi @mitzuya @vs-redemption