#I was always told quicksand was a lie

[someoneelsemaybe]

I learned that water conducts electricity at too young of an age. That was my quicksand.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x WednesdayAddams!reader [1.1K]

“Can you just…” Steve huffed but the sound was coated in a sticky fondness, the kind that still made your cheeks flare with heat. “Stay in bed? Please?”

You huffed right back but your body ached and your throat was dry so it sounded much more pathetic than you wanted it to. You squirmed amongst the blankets that Steve had piled on top of you and despite how warm and nice they smelled, you still didn’t want to stay still. 

You shivered under the layers and tried to wrestle around the pillows but the heavy fatigue that pulled at you made it feel like you were clawing at quicksand. You pouted, skin flushed, a warm, sticky sheen to you that made Steve frown with worry. 

“I don’t need to stay in bed, m’fine,” you retorted and you sounded haughty even in your sickness. 

Steve tried not to smile, ‘cause he knew you’d become even more set on escaping and that just wouldn’t do. You were burning up and despite the several offers of pizza or all your roher favourite takeouts, you’d declined. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve tried, leaning from the bottom of the bed to push a hand under the covers to seek your calf, bare from how his boxers were tucked up around your thighs. 

“Steeben,” you enthused back, trying for the same soft tone but that was something you were still working on. “I— I’m fi—,” you sneezed, cutting yourself off. 

You didn’t look at the boy as you sniffed weakly, eyes watering and chest sore with the exertion of each movement and eventually, Steve’s hand warmed up your skin in a lovely way. He pressed his thumb to the inside of your knee, reaching upupup and rubbing in circles until your muscles went a little lax and you flopped back into his pillows. 

You groaned and pressed your face to the cotton, barely able to smell the always present scent of Steve’s cologne and laundry detergent. You tossed yourself around a little until the covers snuck up to your chin and you peered at the boy from over the top of them with sad eyes. 

Except you were trying to look indignant, so really, you just came across a little menacing. 

Luckily, Steve could deal with menacing. 

“Still cold, babe?” Steve moved to go to his closet, hands pulling at various sweaters until he found his warmest one, a big knitted thing that was a little stretched out from years of wear and a pretty, maroon colour. 

“I don’t feel the cold,” you reminded him, face expressionless but he caught the way your lip trembled at the end. 

Steve smothered another grin, tried to keep his face neutral ‘cause all he wanted to do was wrap you up in all the love he wanted to give you, but he wasn’t all that sure you were willing to accept it. 

“Of course,” he replied instead, nodding. But he moved back to the bed and your hand shot out to catch his, smaller and much warmer, despite the way you shivered. “You okay?” He asked gently. 

Maybe it was the way his fingers curled around yours, maybe it was the way he was looking at you like you were his favourite person in the world, but you gave in - just a little - and Steve watched it happened. 

He saw the way your eyes drooped, sleep blinking at the corners and you brought a second hand out to wrap around his. You tugged at his fingers, lips downturned in a different way than he was used to, the expression on your face a little more sad than he would have ever liked to have seen. 

“Tired,” you mumbled and you tugged at him again, soft and openly needy, and without much strength. You glanced down at the comforter, unsure and hiding the way your eyes softened. “Can you lie with me?”

Steve nodded, smiling as he sat on the edge of the mattress and offered his sweater. You scrunched your nose in distaste, no doubt at the colour, and Steve snorted, still too fond. 

“Arms up, buttercup,” he told you. 

“You’re so lame,” you told him but there wasn’t any heat behind your words and you did as you were told anyway, arms lazy in the air so the boy could pull the warm knit over your frame. 

The boy leaned in to kiss your cheek when your head appeared through the collar, the wool soft and only a little scratchy against your skin. He half expected you to protest or grumble, but hands curled into his T-shirt, holding on with what little strength you still possessed. 

“Hey,” Steve cooed gently, wrapping his fingers around your wrists with the aim of coaxing you to lie down. “Lemme get you some painkillers, huh? I’ll be back in a minute.”

But you held on tighter still, lips pushed into a full pout and you were looking up at him from underneath your lashes, looking entirely more miserable than normal. Steve thought you looked too pretty, even with tired eyes. 

“Stay,” you murmured, and because you were feeling particularly unwell, you even offered a quiet, “please?”

Steve grinned, unable to help himself, ‘cause this version of you was exceptionally soft. “You’re so needy,” he pretended to complain but every syllable was wrapped in affection and Steve was still smiling. 

“Don’t be stupid. no I’m not,” you shot back and you let yourself drop into the pile of pillows Steve had collected for you, face sullen. You tried to look bored, passive even. Like you most certainly didn’t care that Steve was edging towards the door. “Hurry,” you told him, voice sad, cheek squished to his pillow. 

You looked mournful. 

So Steve did hurry, coming back with strips of tablets that would hopefully dull your headache and let you sleep, and he handed you two with a glass of water. He watched you dutifully as you gulped them down and he had barely a chance to set the empty glass on the nightstand before your hands were on him again. 

“You know,” Steve whispered as he clambered under the duvet with you, your greedy hands pushing up underneath his shirt, “if you wanted a cuddle, you just needed to ask, babe.”

Steve huffed out a laugh as you had a visible reaction to the word ‘cuddle’ but you stayed where you were in his arms, head resting in the crook of his neck. 

“You wanna snuggle?” Steve cooed, wondering how far he could get with his jokes. “Aw, baby—”

“Steven.”

You didn’t have the energy to sound annoyed or disgruntled, in fact, you only pushed yourself closer, legs twisting with the boy’s, arms wound around his waist so you could push your nose to his neck. 

You were, indeed, snuggling.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Under Pressure || Chapter 1/3

Fandom: Xmen

Warnings: selfworth issues, fighting (acidic burns mentioned though not graphically described), the Friends of Humanity, their bigotry and their repression collars that I dont like for a myriad of reasons and like major feelings of panic. Anything else? Let me know. Wordcount: 3746 Summary: What's supposed to be a fun night out together for Kurt and Miranda takes like three turns left into disaster AN: at some point "the Friends of Humanity" just becomes abbreviated to FOH because typing it out everytime feels like needlessly padding my wordcount and drives me up a wall so. we gon stop that. for my sake. --------------------- It was late enough that the sun was painting the slightest bit of orange on the clouds in the sky. Miranda stood with her back against the wall of a music store, far away enough from the sidewalk that she wouldn't be bothered or in the way by the foot traffic on the street; and it allowed her to sink away in her thoughts as she waited for Kurt.

Or in her case, it would be more accurate to say that her brain was arguing with itself. She needed new excuses to use with people at the mansion of why she snuck out so regularly, she still didn't want to admit to any of them that she and Kurt had personally labelled whatever was going on between them as partners. Why did she not want to admit to that? Anyone else in her position would be screaming it from the rooftops that they had managed to capture the kind, warm heart of the incredible Nightcrawler.

Had she? Seemed like that was just wishful thinking. People normally bothered to say 'I love you' before declaring themselves the romantic partner of whomever- And it wasn't like she could blame Kurt for not saying it if she couldn't manage to say it herself. The words got stuck in her chest like they were trapped in quicksand, slipping through her fingers every time she tried to address it.

She could lie and say there had been no prime opportunities to tell him, but with how often they spend together that was just straight up bullshit. Whether on the rooftop of the mansion or in the danger room while training together, there had been plenty of times she could have told him. Plenty of times she had tried, and failed. Why was it so hard to just tell him how she felt-

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, if I interrupted Rogue just to leave I would never hear the end of it."

His voice interrupted her train of thought, making her flick her gaze up from the stones below her to him. Dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, he stood in front of her, shielding her from the light as the orange hue of the evening danced around him in almost a halo effect. As it set the blue tones of his furry skin and dark hair ablaze, the only thing she could think of was how it made him look like an angel; Kurt was simply beautiful in a way she had never considered anyone else to be.

"It's fine, Kurt," what felt like staring at him for hours had only been a few seconds at most, "we still have the entire evening. They don't expect either of us back for a while, right?"

Kurt nodded; "Ja. It's Rogue who I always have the hardest time to convince though. She gets so worried."

"You're her brother and she's protective; of course she worries," Miranda laughed, refraining from adding that she would feel much the same if she was Rogue, "anyway, what's the plan for the evening?"

"Well," Kurt answered with a slight smile, and it would never stop amazing her how easy it was to let him in her personal space as he stepped closer to her and leaned an arm on her shoulder, "I was going to keep it a surprise, but it's hard to keep things from you when you look at me so curiously."

"We're going clubbing," the pure dryness of the remark made him laugh and her heart immediately fluttered at the sound of it.

"No, we're not. I know you Miranda, dragging you to a nightclub would be like dragging you to your own worst nightmare. No, Süßer, I think you'll find the new cat café downtown is far more your style, wouldn't you say?"

She was going to say something in regard to the nightclub indeed being what she assumed would be her version of hell, but her eyes lit up as soon as he mentioned the new café that had been on her radar ever since coming soon advertisements for it started popping up.

"I could kiss you right now."

"Then why don't you, hmm?" he purred, to which she closed the gap between them to kiss him, "come on, let's go."

She lingered by the wall for a moment longer, quietly reveling in the feeling of his kiss. Her mind simply started the argument it was having with itself back up, insisting that if she truly at some point wanted to be fine with kissing him and not caring what anyone at the mansion thought about it she had to tell him how she felt. Tonight could be the perfect opportunity to do so, and she couldn't keep blowing it every damn time; what the hell was she so afraid of anyway?

'Oh, I don't know, how about the fact that he is way too good for you to have?' a mean voice in the back of her head sneered at her, 'you said it yourself; he's like an angel. He deserves a lot better than a trainwreck who's anxiety he constantly needs to keep in check.'

She shook the thought off; that was enough. She couldn't keep dancing around in this limbo where she never knew where she stood with him. Even if the answer was no, she rather knew tonight than to drag this out any longer than she already had. She was telling him tonight; and if she was scared then she was going to tell him while scared. Miranda then went after him, surprised to see he had only walked about ten steps away from her as he seemed to focus on a sound she couldn't hear. It was no surprise; his hearing was more sensitive then hers, but this seemed... different.

"What's wrong?" she softly asked, approaching to gently place a hand on his arm as he listened intently.

"Someone's in trouble," he muttered, his gaze draw to some back alley that led to a whole labyrinth of them into the far more industrial side of the city. Miranda immediately resigned to the fact that their previous plans would absolutely not go through. Not only was trying to keep an X-men from helping as impossible as keeping a firefighter away from a burning building, she herself wouldn't be able to sleep if they turned their backs on someone in need.

"Come on then, let's go check it out. Don't look so surprised. You're an X-men, I'm acquainted with them, it's kind of our duty to."

"... I'll make it up to you," Kurt said as he caught up with her while she walked down the alley he had been staring in, "Thank you."

"You better," she grinned at him in an attempt to break the tension, "don't worry about it."

Down a twisting path of back alleys they went, as Kurt instinctively wrapped his tail around Miranda’s waist. Miranda could only assume that if they had to bail the scene in a moment’s notice then it was better if they were already physically in contact, and it was not like she minded anyway. The further they went in the louder the sound of the conflict became; the more the sound increased the slower Kurt approached like a cat on the hunt. He eventually gestured at Miranda to stop and stay behind him. He looked over his shoulder at her, only flattening himself against the stone wall when he realised she had vanished from sight. He peeked around the corner as soon as a feminine voice roared, demanded to be let go, his eyes widening when he saw a group of the Friends of Humanity people cornering someone he honestly thought he would never see again in his life.

"Oh, scheiße. The 'Friends of Humanity' have Vivian cornered."

"The viper mutant? How did they even get to her?" Miranda asked in the same hushed whisper as he did, peeking just around him to try and assess the situation for herself but she immediately got distracted by the sensation of his tail unwrapping and withdrawing itself.

“I’m going to help her.”

“Wh-“ she grabbed onto his arm, immediately pulling him back, “are you out of your mind?!”

“She is going up against twenty people, that is not fair or a fight she is going to win!” “She tried to fucking kill you!?” “She is a mutant, and she’s out there alone. Nobody is coming to help her.” Oh, that was a fucking low blow directly into an exposed nerve. As instinctively as she had grabbed onto his arm, she let go in a near shove while she sarcastically thanked him in her head for reminding her how Vivian was basically the bad ending road to her own story; paranoid, scared, and alone. “Fine. Go be the hero she needs; mind doing it without pressing my nerves about it?!” Kurt blinked, turning around to where he could only assume she was; she could hear the voice in her head sneer that if he wanted to know where she was then maybe he shouldn’t have immediately dropped his hold on her to rush in and save the damn snake.

“Will you please show yourself?”

She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t. But the tone of his voice had softened significantly, out of this heroic demeanor it had taken before, apologetic. The voice in her head didn’t want her to obey, but the whine of her heart was all the louder for it and drowning out the complains as it wanted for nothing more than for him to just see her. She sighed, shutting her invisibility down with it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that as a stab at you,” Kurt whispered, placing a hand on her upper arm in quiet support, “I just don’t wish the FOH on anyone, not in those numbers. Not even Vivian deserves to be ambushed by twenty people.”

“… Two against twenty isn’t much better,” Miranda protested weakly, “at least take me with you.” “I can’t even if I wanted to; I can’t let you risk your safety like that. I need you to stay here; if this goes south I need you to get back up."

"So I’m just supposed to let you go out there and risk your safety instead?”

"Drifting, I need you to trust me. If I'm not back in thirty minutes, get help."

"No, wait-" but in a huff of smoke he was gone. She felt exposed, left behind; exactly the same way when he had dropped her on a rooftop in the middle of nowhere to go and fight a Sentinel with his group. The more experienced group with actual useful abilities instead of an invisible ragdoll he had to drag along with him. With a hurt, sad sigh she flicked her invisibility back on, peeking around the corner instead to keep an eye on the fight and promising to herself she would go get help if the situation got out of hand. Appearing in the middle of the combat, Kurt immediately kicked away one of Vivians attackers and flung another away with his tail, stepping over her in a defensive pose as if to show they had to get through him first if they wanted to get their hands on the viper mutant. Quickly scanning what he could only label as the battlefield, yellow eyes flicked to the mutant on the ground for just a moment.

“You alright?”

He immediately looked back up at the sound of the group forming a semi-circle around them, the FOH clearly a bit perplexed by his sudden appearance and momentarily unsure of what to do about it. Vivian looked up at him, scrambling away from underneath to get up and equally as confused at suddenly having an ally on the field with her. She knew he could fight, sure, but who was to say he wasn’t just going to toss her to the wolves the moment he could?

“Why are you-“

She was interrupted by a handful of the FOH attackers bringing out collars, instinctively knowing she did not want those anywhere near her despite this being her first true encounter with a whole group of these people. Her glowing orange eyes went from the group to Kurt, a temporary alliance there clearly in her best interest if she wanted some chance at getting out of this. "Less talking, more fighting, Fraulein." Kurt was forever graceful in his fighting; trained, skilled, and so in tune with himself that his acrobatics easily made him flit between enemies. He wasn’t brutal like Vivian was about it, who hurled men and women alike aside with brute force and snarled to show off her huge fangs in an intimidation display- she clearly had more street fighting experience than the fighting the X-men got as training. Even amidst helping each other when one got jumped by broken off fractions of their attackers, eventually they landed back to back against each other while they were circled by the whole group.

"There's too many of them!" Vivian hissed over her shoulder, dropping her guard just enough for some soul in the crowd to be brave enough to lunge for her with a collar in their hands. Kurt saw it happen from the corners of his eyes, instinct taking over as he grabbed onto her and pushed her to where he was standing

"Look out!" As the unmistakable click of metal shutting in on itself rang through the air, he realised his mistake. He had been trying to keep track of so many things all at once that in a moment where he wasn’t thinking he had done little more than swap positions with Vivian, miscalculating how much time he had and needed to teleport both of them to a safe place. And now, the FOH device was around his neck. His knees gave out under the overwhelming feeling of being severed from his sense of his surroundings, the ability to see and feel where he could slip between realms to get where he wanted to go harshly and unforgivingly ripped away from him. He looked up at Vivian, fear taking a stronger hold as he was terrified what the collar would do to her, and what the FOH even wanted a venomous mutant for in the first place. That aside, if she got caught with him, the whole attempt to save her had been completely moot.

"Run."

"But-" Vivian protested, back still pointed towards him in order to keep an eye on the people rapidly closing in, a few already getting their hands on her blue ally no matter how hard she snarled at them to try and keep them away. 

"Run!" She still had her intimidation on her side, spitting her venom at people and causing panic as she hit some of them on exposed limbs, creating a cacophony of horrified screams as their skin inevitably reacted to the chemical concoction like it would to an acid burn. As a bunch of them scattered off, the remaining ten or so divided themselves into group with one set further dragging Kurt away until Vivian had little choice but to grab someone attacking her and full force throwing them into the group they belonged to before she bolted off and clambered onto the stone wall of a building to get to the roof. She simply couldn’t help him. Vivian had no idea that she scaled the same building Miranda was still using as her hiding spot, not seeing her on account of her invisibility. Miranda had been sitting there the whole time, frozen like a deer in headlights as her brain was eerily dead silent for a few excruciating seconds, before absolutely and completely freaking the fuck out. Panic and anxiety rattled in her chest as the notion of getting help suddenly seemed like the stupidest fucking thing to do; having to admit to his team that she lost him to a bunch of FOH weirdos?! Her mind couldn’t let go that they were taking him away, and as they did the last thing she would’ve ever done was argue with him over Vivian of all fucking people in the world. She didn’t know what to do, her mind repeating over and over again like a desperate mantra that they were taking him away and that she had no idea what they were going to do with him. Her blood ran ice cold as a couple of them went up ahead to open a heavy metal door, while the remaining three struggled to keep a hold on him

‘Fucking do something!’ the voice in her head that usually lowkey chastised her for just about anything under the sun was now so loud that it sounded like thunder resounding in her skull, ‘or you’ll never see him again!’ It was almost like that voice took over control, because she had never gotten up or ran that fast in her life. She shot across the entire wide open industrial field like a bullet shot from a gun, barreling through the door before it was closed by some musclebound henchman that shut the door behind her only to then look around at what that random gust of wind was supposed to be as it rushed past him. He shrugged, letting go of the door and blissfully unaware that he was standing right next to an invisible mutant with her hand clasped over her mouth in order to not make a sound.

"Odd," he muttered to himself, thoughts interrupted as his communication device went off, "Yeah? What do you mean Sheila called out again? I swear ever since she met that Chloe she's been acting all uppity and weird. No, she better not be fucking around with a mutant, if she knows what’s good for her." He was still talking aloud to the person on the other end as he went back to his post. When he left the corridor, Miranda unclasped her hand from her mouth to breathe out, exhaling in the hope that it would take all her anxiety along with it. Great, she was inside; now what? This would've been amazing had she actually thought for a minute what she was going to do once inside. She stared at the ceiling, almost wanting to look through it into the sky above while she tried to keep her burning tears at bay.

"... I don't know if You can hear me, or if You’d listen to someone like me- I don't talk to You even remotely enough to be asking for any favors," she whispered, quickly hitting the four point of a cross over herself, "but if You have any to spare I could really use some divine intervention right about now. And if I’m not worthy of anything You’d offer then please grant it to him; keep him safe. Please.” She took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to calm down as she lingered where she was. No matter what, with the choices she had made, there was no calling for back up other than her prayer for divine intervention; their friends and family couldn’t come to the rescue now that there was no one to run to them for aid. Hell, she wouldn’t even be able to make it out the doors here without triggering the alarms that loomed over the normal entrances and emergency exits alike. Worse, their family wouldn’t even notice the two of them were gone until several hours later; that was the horrible downside of wanting no one to know where you went off to or who you were with. With that option scrapped, what could she do?

[hannahwatcheshorror]

A QUIET PLACE (2018)

💁‍♀️💁‍♀️Strong Female Lead(s)

A cinematically aesthetic film brought to you by America’s sweetheart John Krasinski starring him and his British wife Emily Blunt. The sense of self that is lost with these characters since they can no longer speak (safely) is immense, juxtaposed by a character who would be unable to speak regardless of apocalypse status makes it resonate all the more. A good horror movie is about the monsters we’ve become, the horror we’ve put each other through. This movie never forgets about the relationship between the characters. I had a lot of questions/concerns about the creatures from the movie though.

⭐⭐⭐.5

Here is the thing. I have strong feelings about this movie because I wish so badly that I could find a way to make John Krasinski’s character live. I sat here and I wrote lie after lie in review after review (like, two) that just didn’t feel right because A Quiet Place is a fine movie, it is just very frustrating. The first 10 minutes set the movie up for some high expectations by giving us more questions than answers. Emily Blunt and John Krasinski (married couple in this movie too, aw) have three kids in this brave new world. A misunderstanding with the (deaf) sister putting batteries in the youngest brother's toy becomes a cautionary tale as we watch in slow motion the hellhound removes the tot from this mortal plane. Fade out to title and over 400 days later, there is no explanation on how the rest of the family escaped unscathed which raises so many more questions for me and made me falsely believe that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. I really believed that the sound hounds were just sort of big, dumb, sharp dogs. (My general confusion on the creatures is why I took stars away. I know there were lots of news articles but they all just said, “Ah, we are so scared, run away!”)

We get introduced to the family farm, it is very quiet and nice (did I mention quiet?). They have a lot of little things they do to reduce noise but it is very difficult for me to track what is or isn’t too much noise (the intro sequence said Loud Toy = Bad but Walking Around = Fine, right?). They are living that basement life but it also seems a lot like a good way to have one of those blind motherfuckers fall into the basement and not really be able to get their way out (well, I was sort of right, though I guess one of them found the stairs at some point). 

I have NO idea how Emily blunt fully gives birth in a tub silently. The bathtub is one of the most echoey places on earth. The sound effects would have been disgusting (if not hilarious) but we are to believe that she did this, alone, in pain, and completely silently? Shenanigans! I call shenanigans! I’m sorry! Even if you give her the pass and say that Emily held it together and didn’t make any grunts or groans, her body and that baby sure would have! Anyway I have no idea how those creepy crawlers didn’t hear peep one out of that bathroom and everything with that went peaches and afterbirth but it did somehow (and her doing laundry earlier in the day was more harrowing).

Another important scare to note, the children jumped into a grain silo at one point and (at first) I thought that was very cool, something I always thought of when I saw silos in passing, but then the kids started to sink. Like quicksand. Which I did NOT know was a thing. Google told me it is called grain entrapment/engulfment and what a HORRIFYING way to die. No joking here, drowning in corn was not even a possibility, at least I thought, until this movie, now it’s pretty high up there in “Ways I Don’t Want To Die.”

The relationship between the children and the dad was very sweet, especially since we didn’t get to see them together for long before he made the ultimate sacrifice. I wished so badly he would have moved while yelling, I have it in my mind that those googly mooglies are really bad at hearing when they are making a lot of noise themselves and it was making such a ruckus on the truck that it would run towards John and then get lost somewhere in the middle between John and the kids in the truck and if everyone stayed QUIET in the PLACE maybe our dear Mr. Director could have survived for the sequel? Just me? I was mad at this movie for years because I was so sure he could have avoided death but as I was getting screenshots for the review I was looking at the creatures and had to rethink things quite a bit…

Things finally kick off when the daughter realizes her hearing aid shrieking is the only thing that hurts the spindly bastards so she amplifies it with the speakers/coms they have and EB blows its head off with a shotgun (that one's for her husband, bitch). Now they know they can kill the beasties and the hunted have become the hunters, y’all! Strap that baby on your back and let's get to killin’! Yee Haw! But in all seriousness the film ends on a very hopeful note which is good considering the night's events (very positive parenting, I think Em is gonna be a good single mother). Still sad John is dead (but I can still feel his spirit, just beyond the camera, I mean, grave), but trying to come to terms with it as apparently the family has.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Reek II (Theon II) [Chapter 20]

Besides, where would he run to? Behind him were the camps, crowded with Dreadfort men and those the Ryswells had brought from the Rills, with the Barrowton host between them. South of Moat Cailin, another army was coming up the causeway, an army of Boltons and Freys marching beneath the banners of the Dreadfort.

I think it's a little concerning House Dustin always finds itself grouped with the Boltons, Freys, and Ryswells.

You do you, but I will not be putting my faith in Queen in the North Barbrey Dustin.

+.+.+

He was no rider. He was not even a man. He was Lord Ramsay's creature, lower than a dog, a worm in human skin.

. . .

+.+.+

"You will pretend to be a prince," Lord Ramsay told him last night, as Reek was soaking in a tub of scalding water, "but we know the truth. You're Reek. You'll always be Reek, no matter how sweet you smell. Your nose may lie to you. Remember your name. Remember who you are."

Why is this so funny?

"Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are." - Daenerys II, ADWD

x

"Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?" - Daenerys X, ADWD

+.+.+

You will be tempted to betray me. To run or fight or join our foes. No, quiet, I'll not hear you deny it. Lie to me, and I'll take your tongue. A man would turn against me in your place, but we know what you are, don't we?

. . .

+.+.+

When he looked up, he caught a glimpse of pale faces peering from behind the battlements of the Gatehouse Tower and through the broken masonry that crowned the Children's Tower, where legend said the children of the forest had once called down the hammer of the waters to break the lands of Westeros in two.

One point for the north seceding.

+.+.+

The swampy ground beyond the causeway was impassable, an endless morass of suckholes, quicksands, and glistening green swards that looked solid to the unwary eye but turned to water the instant you trod upon them, the whole of it infested with venomous serpents and poisonous flowers and monstrous lizard lions with teeth like daggers. Just as dangerous were its people, seldom seen but always lurking, the swamp-dwellers, the frog-eaters, the mud-men. Fenn and Reed, Peat and Boggs, Cray and Quagg, Greengood and Blackmyre, those were the sorts of names they gave themselves. The ironborn called them all bog devils.

All of these houses are Team Stark. No further explanation required. Just trust me, bro.

+.+.+

The guard rubbed his face, his eyes red and inflamed. "We used to drag the dead down into the cellars. All the vaults are flooded down there. No one wants to take the trouble now, so we just leave them where they fall."

"The cellar is a better place for them. Give them to the water. To the Drowned God."

Dead ironborn go to the water.

+.+.+

"How many of the garrison are left?"

"Some," said the ironman. "I don't know. Fewer than we was before. Some in the Drunkard's Tower too, I think. Not the Children's Tower. Dagon Codd went over there a few days back. Only two men left alive, he said, and they was eating on the dead ones. He killed them both, if you can believe that."

Oh dear.

+.+.+

Ralf Kenning lay shivering beneath a mountain of furs. His arms were stacked beside him—sword and axe, mail hauberk, iron warhelm. His shield bore the storm god's cloudy hand, lightning crackling from his fingers down to a raging sea, but the paint was discolored and peeling, the wood beneath starting to rot.

I think I'm confused. Why is the Storm God on his shield?

+.+.+

Ralf was rotting too. Beneath the furs he was naked and feverish, his pale puffy flesh covered with weeping sores and scabs. His head was misshapen, one cheek grotesquely swollen, his neck so engorged with blood that it threatened to swallow his face. The arm on that same side was big as a log and crawling with white worms. No one had bathed him or shaved him for many days, from the look of him. One eye wept pus, and his beard was crusty with dried vomit. "What happened to him?" asked Reek.

[...]

"Kill him," Reek told the guard. "His wits are gone. He's full of blood and worms."

The man gaped at him. "The captain put him in command."

"You'd put a dying horse down."

[...]

"I will kill him for you." Reek snatched up Ralf Kenning's sword where it leaned against his shield. He still had fingers enough to clasp the hilt. When he laid the edge of the blade against the swollen throat of the creature on the straw, the skin split open in a gout of black blood and yellow pus. Kenning jerked violently, then lay still. 

That might be one of the most disgusting things I've ever read.

The irony of Theon putting someone out of their misery is not lost on me.

+.+.+

All the men were strangers to him. Several wore cloaks fastened by brooches in the shape of silver codfish. The Codds were not well regarded in the Iron Islands; the men were said to be thieves and cowards, the women wantons who bedded with their own fathers and brothers.

I would have ignored this if the word wanton wasn't used.

Edit: I missed an amusing detail.

Thank you, @decadelongsummer. 😂

+.+.+

He gestured at the parchment. "Break the seal. Read the words. That is a safe conduct, written in Lord Ramsay's own hand. Give up your swords and come with me, and his lordship will feed you and give you leave to march unmolested to the Stony Shore and find a ship for home. Elsewise you die."

At no point does Theon acknowledge he's leading these men to their deaths.

And he definitely knows.

+.+.+

"My uncle is never coming back," Reek told them. "The kingswood crowned his brother Euron, and the Crow's Eye has other wars to fight. You think my uncle values you? He doesn't. You are the ones he left behind to die. He scraped you off the same way he scrapes mud off his boots when he wades ashore."

And? He meant well, okay?

+.+.+

"Lord Ramsay treats his captives honorably so long as they keep faith with him." He has only taken toes and fingers and that other thing, when he might have had my tongue, or peeled the skin off my legs from heel to thigh. "Yield up your swords to him, and you will live."

. . .

+.+.+

One man took a swallow of ale. Another turned his cup over to wash away a finger of blood before it reached the place where he was seated. No one spoke. When the one-armed man slid the throwing axe back through his belt, Reek knew he had won. He almost felt a man again. Lord Ramsay will be pleased with me.

. . .

+.+.+

He did well to send me, Reek told himself as he climbed back onto his stot to lead his ragged column back across the boggy ground to where the northmen were encamped. 

Ongoing theme of Theon being sent on a mission with paper in hand.

Let's see if it happens a third time.

+.+.+

"Leave your weapons here," he told the prisoners. "Swords, bows, daggers. Armed men will be slain on sight."

Reasonable request, but there's the first hint something is amiss.

+.+.+

It took them thrice as long to cover the distance as it had taken Reek alone. Crude litters had been patched together for four of the men who could not walk; the fifth was carried by his son, upon his back. It made for slow going, and all the ironborn were well aware of how exposed they were, well within bowshot of the bog devils and their poisoned arrows. If I die, I die. Reek only prayed the archer knew his business, so death would be quick and clean. A man's death, not the end Ralf Kenning suffered.

When it comes to Theon and foreshadowing, I'm mostly looking for archery and an honourable death.

+.+.+

The one-armed man walked at the head of the procession, limping heavily. His name, he said, was Adrack Humble, and he had a rock wife and three salt wives back on Great Wyk. "Three of the four had big bellies when we sailed," he boasted, "and Humbles run to twins. First thing I'll need to do when I get back is count up my new sons. Might be I'll even name one after you, m'lord."

Aye, name him Reek, he thought, and when he's bad you can cut his toes off and give him rats to eat. He turned his head and spat, and wondered if Ralf Kenning hadn't been the lucky one.

There's the second hint this is all going to hell.

+.+.+

A light rain had begun to piss down out of the slate-grey sky by the time Lord Ramsay's camp appeared in front of them. 

Third.

+.+.+

The dogs swarmed around them, snapping and snarling at the strangers. The Bastard's girls, Reek thought, before he remembered that one must never, never, never use that word in Ramsay's presence.

Again, pretty apparent why Ramsay would constantly refer to Jon as 'bastard' in the pink letter.

+.+.+

"So few. I had hoped for more. They were such stubborn foes." Lord Ramsay's pale eyes shone. 

Final hint.

+.+.+

"My lord," he said, "my place is here, with you. I'm your Reek. I only want to serve you. All I ask … a skin of wine, that would be reward enough for me … red wine, the strongest that you have, all the wine a man can drink …"

All Theon wants is to be blackout drunk when it starts.

+.+.+

Lord Ramsay laughed. "You're not a man, Reek. You're just my creature. You'll have your wine, though. Walder, see to it. And fear not, I won't return you to the dungeons, you have my word as a Bolton. We'll make a dog of you instead. Meat every day, and I'll even leave you teeth enough to eat it. You can sleep beside my girls. Ben, do you have a collar for him?"

"I'll have one made, m'lord," said old Ben Bones.

The old man did better than that. That night, besides the collar, there was a ragged blanket too, and half a chicken. Reek had to fight the dogs for the meat, but it was the best meal he'd had since Winterfell.

Being a dog is somehow an upgrade.

I'm happy for you if you enjoy this POV, but I can't do it.

+.+.+

And the wine … the wine was dark and sour, but strong. Squatting amongst the hounds, Reek drank until his head swam, retched, wiped his mouth, and drank some more. Afterward he lay back and closed his eyes. When he woke a dog was licking vomit from his beard, and dark clouds were scuttling across the face of a sickle moon. Somewhere in the night, men were screaming. He shoved the dog aside, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

Go to sleep, Theon.

+.+.+

The flayed man of House Bolton was hoisted above the Gatehouse Tower, where Reek had hauled down the golden kraken of Pyke. Along the rotting-plank road, wooden stakes were driven deep into the boggy ground; there the corpses festered, red and dripping. Sixty-three, he knew, there are sixty-three of them. One was short half an arm. Another had a parchment shoved between its teeth, its wax seal still unbroken.

Do you have any idea how stupid you have to be to not connect Ramsay putting 63 ironborn on wooden stakes with Daenerys crucifying 163 men?

Is that a parallel Targs are comfortable with?

+.+.+

Three days later, the vanguard of Roose Bolton's host threaded its way through the ruins and past the row of grisly sentinels—four hundred mounted Freys clad in blue and grey, their spearpoints glittering whenever the sun broke through the clouds. 

[...]

The northmen followed hard behind the van, their tattered banners streaming in the wind. Reek watched them pass. Most were afoot, and there were so few of them. He remembered the great host that marched south with Young Wolf, beneath the direwolf of Winterfell. Twenty thousand swords and spears had gone off to war with Robb, or near enough to make no matter, but only two in ten were coming back, and most of those were Dreadfort men.

[...]

Farther back came the baggage train—lumbering wayns laden with provisions and loot taken in the war, and carts crowded with wounded men and cripples. And at the rear, more Freys. At least a thousand, maybe more: bowmen, spearmen, peasants armed with scythes and sharpened sticks, freeriders and mounted archers, and another hundred knights to stiffen them.

Number update!

House Bolton has 4000 men.

House Frey has 1500 (2000?) men in the north.

"Not for long. Bolton's bastard son will soon remove that little obstacle. Lord Bolton will have two thousand Freys to augment his own strength, under Lord Walder's sons Hosteen and Aenys. That should be more than enough to deal with Stannis and a few thousand broken men." - Jaime II, AFFC

+.+.+

Two of old Lord Walder's sons led the van. One was brawny, with a massive jut of jaw and arms thick with muscle. The other had hungry eyes close-set above a pointed nose, a thin brown beard that did not quite conceal the weak chin beneath it, a bald head. Hosteen and Aenys. He remembered them from before he knew his name. Hosteen was a bull, slow to anger but implacable once roused, and by repute the fiercest fighter of Lord Walder's get. Aenys was older, crueler, and more clever—a commander, not a swordsman. Both were seasoned soldiers.

The clever commander will die.

The implacable one will lead the Freys against Stannis.

Strangely, Stannis smiled. "Angry foes do not concern me. Anger makes men stupid, and Hosteen Frey was stupid to begin with, if half of what I have heard of him is true. Let him come." - Theon I, TWOW

+.+.+

Back where the press was thickest at the center of the column rode a man armored in dark grey plate over a quilted tunic of blood-red leather. His rondels were wrought in the shape of human heads, with open mouths that shrieked in agony. From his shoulders streamed a pink woolen cloak embroidered with droplets of blood. Long streamers of red silk fluttered from the top of his closed helm. No crannogman will slay Roose Bolton with a poisoned arrow, Reek thought when he first saw him. An enclosed wagon groaned along behind him, drawn by six heavy draft horses and defended by crossbowmen, front and rear. Curtains of dark blue velvet concealed the wagon's occupants from watching eyes.

[...]

When the rider in the dark armor removed his helm, however, the face beneath was not one that Reek knew. Ramsay's smile curdled at the sight, and anger flashed across his face. "What is this, some mockery?"

"Just caution," whispered Roose Bolton, as he emerged from behind the curtains of the enclosed wagon.

This is setting off an alarm or two.

A decoy disguised as Roose Bolton? Surely we'll be seeing this tactic again.

+.+.+

The Lord of the Dreadfort did not have a strong likeness to his bastard son. His face was clean-shaved, smooth-skinned, ordinary, not handsome but not quite plain. Though Roose had been in battles, he bore no scars. Though well past forty, he was as yet unwrinkled, with scarce a line to tell of the passage of time. His lips were so thin that when he pressed them together they seemed to vanish altogether. There was an agelessness about him, a stillness; on Roose Bolton's face, rage and joy looked much the same. All he and Ramsay had in common were their eyes. His eyes are ice. Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks?

Once, a boy called Theon Greyjoy had enjoyed tweaking Bolton as they sat at council with Robb Stark, mocking his soft voice and making japes about leeches. He must have been mad. This is no man to jape with. You had only to look at Bolton to know that he had more cruelty in his pinky toe than all the Freys combined.

Someone on Reddit said Roose is neutral evil, while Ramsay is chaotic evil, and I think that's perfect.

Given how fleshed out (lol) Roose is in the books, many have speculated Ramsay took his storyline on the show. I have to disagree.

Roose and Tywin are similar for a reason. They made their beds (children), now they must lie in them.

"Tainted blood is ever treacherous, and Ramsay's nature was sly, greedy, and cruel. I count myself well rid of him. The trueborn sons my young wife has promised me would never have been safe while he lived." - Catelyn VI, ACOK

+.+.+

"My new wife," Roose Bolton said. "Lady Walda, this is my natural son. Kiss your stepmother's hand, Ramsay." He did. "And I am sure you will recall the Lady Arya. Your betrothed."

The girl was slim, and taller than he remembered, but that was only to be expected. Girls grow fast at that age. Her dress was grey wool bordered with white satin; over it she wore an ermine cloak clasped with a silver wolf's head. Dark brown hair fell halfway down her back. And her eyes …

That is not Lord Eddard's daughter.

Arya had her father's eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks. A girl her age might let her hair grow long, add inches to her height, see her chest fill out, but she could not change the color of her eyes. That's Sansa's little friend, the steward's girl. Jeyne, that was her name. Jeyne Poole.

Theon knowing Arya resembles Ned instantly shatters the illusion.

You have to wonder if someone will recognize Sansa because they're familiar with Catelyn Stark. I can think of a few good candidates.

+.+.+

"Lord Ramsay." The girl dipped down before him. That was wrong as well. The real Arya Stark would have spat into his face. "I pray that I will make you a good wife and give you strong sons to follow after you."

"That you will," promised Ramsay, "and soon."

Final thoughts:

I'm already losing track of everything. I think I need to start a Grand Northern Conspiracy spreadsheet.

-> return to menu <-

[hoodie-prince-kid]

Huey (rant invitation)

When Port Prisma got the paint stars stolen from the fountain, Huey was what emerged from the fountain's emergency system. He introduced himself by saying "let's get burgers, your treat" before letting Mario drain his color in order to fight off a stray shy guy in the town. At the ends of the game, after everything theyve been thru, Huey thanks Mario just before the final battle, and then in the battle turns himself into a card to become a solid object again, which made it go full circle. As the guardian of the paint fountain in Port Prisma, he realized his job wasnt to get the paint stars, but to get rid of the black paint that Bowser inadvertantly created. He told the others he would be right behind them as they escaped the castle, which was a lie, and proceeded to squeeze the paint out of the *entire castle*.

He's never seen the ocean before, but he loves it.

He's never been to a circus but he was so excited to go.

He's bad in front of crowds. (He tried a tin can impression and no one liked it [i liked it], said it would kill back at the recycling plant which?? Are there other living inanimate objects like Huey??? Hello?????)

He "speaks Draggadon" but he hasnt used it since college and his Draggadon speak is just SIMPLE SENTENCES IN ALL CAPS. (He also told the Draggadon "WE LOVE YOU.")

He's been to college, apparently.

He loves paint and values friendship.

He called shenanigans when the giant coin in the Mondo Woods was only worth one coin upon being picked up.

He was excited to see the fossil at the excavation site and told Mario to go ahead, he'd catch up.

He started a "if anything happens i will protect you" speech just before a chain chomp rolled in out of nowhere and interrupted him (i guess that was foreshadowing, looking back).

He steams and whistles like a tea kettle when he's mad.

He finds Toads adorable but also mumbled to Mario "Why can't we ever meet anyone normal?" upon meeting the lighthouse Toad.

His 3D model uses more triangles than the entirety of Super Mario 64.

He can smell paint stars (the green ones smell "minty fresh", apparently).

He wanted to fight at the coliseum but realized Mario would be the one doing the fighting and sounded it a bit disappointed. (Now thst i think abt it, they could very much have called it "The Colorseum". Missed opportunity.)

He makes bad paint puns and tries to use one to add levity to the situation after the battle with Kamek.

Mario had to whack him with a hammer several times (only once did he get truly upset abt it, in which case he was freaking out abt i mini goomba stuck on his back and Mario really had no choice ["You BETTER not have dented my can, fur face" will live rent free in my memory forever.])

His handles come apart which is something ive never seen a bucket or paint can be able to do but clearly it was solely so they could give him an equivalent to hands because he can clap and "dance".

He absorbed Bowser's black paint at Sunglow Ridge and told Mario to close his eyes and "never speak of this again" (i guess thst was foreshadowing too huh).

His little mask thing changes colors based on his emotions.

He sank into quicksand once and i panicked and when I finally got to him the game said "Huey's not breathing!" but we whacked him with the hammer and he was fine, just full of sand and stating that it's a good thing paint cans dont need to breathe.

Clearly has a sense of fairness, called out the scam at Bloo Bay Beach and got mad when the "legendary mountain sage" turned out to be a cardboard cutout.

Saved Mario from falling in lava and shouted "I got you, bud!"

If you lose a boss battle without the right Thing card he'll pop up on the game over screen and tell you.

He's so encouraging and cheerful, lots of times he cheered Mario on when he was struggling, including in the boss battle.

Apologized for forcing Mario to come with him to recover the paint stars which no, he didn't, Peach told Mario to go and Mario always listens to Peach because he loves her. Plus Mario's a hero and he'll always do what's right for the greater good but now that i think about it probably does need a break.

Thinks the Toad Rescue Squad scarves are "choice".

Wants to buy Birdo's album.

Thats all i got rn and already i know it's a lot so here ya go jdbsndbdb-

[muutosarchive]

"What's wrong, Henry?" William drags out his name, eyes half-lidded as he picks a piece of imaginary lint off of Henry's collar. He's close, invading Henry's space like he always does when he wants attention. "What, I'm not allowed to see anyone else? Fuck anyone else?" He had mentioned someone, a flirtation, an invitation. It was the truth, although his claim that he planned on pursuing it was. . . well, it would likely remain a lie. "I thought this was just a little fun." His fingers are against bare skin now, feather light touch against Henry's neck, his throat. "Right? You fuck me, then go home and fuck your wife. You're not mine, I'm not yours." Oh, but he wanted to be. "So, what's the problem, darling?" ( I'M. HELP. HELP ME. / @spring-lxcked )

☽𖤐☾ @spring-lxcked

𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭. shit... if will let him he'd turn tail, & blast out of there right now. he doesn't like facing it. he'd swallow the bitterness of knowing a divorced afton left with someone else, leaving him with a warm bed but a swarmed mind. something which makes henry distant. more silent, & teeth gritting. beer drinking, sleepless. he gets that way when anyone even so much as flirts with will, which is sickening in his own opinion. he's falling too far into the quicksand to deal with it now. or, so he thinks. as long as he hides it - but, this time he hadn't been so lucky.

he feels closed in. knew william zeroed in the moment he sensed it in the air. pupils shrinking & then widening. 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

henry's stomach twists. open mouthed, as bile threatens his handsome face. that which is frozen in a furrowed, open mouthed state of anxiety. thick arms plant themselves on a shelf that digs into his back. hyper aware of his hair overlapping forehead, or sleeves cutting into thick, & freckled upper arms. "it is, goddammit. will -- i'm serious. knock it off." eyes flicker, warning.

he tries to lay down the law with william, truly. rolling his eyes before trying to look somewhat casual, when taking to resting more adjacently against the wall. but he doesn't knock it off. he never does. & henry is getting angry. thick chest inflating faster. neck flexing under, & shrugging off the engineer's touch. albeit weakly. he didn't like when william mentioned his wife. a hand moving up to swat at him, like a fly. a pest.

straightening again, the engineer sticks a finger in william's chest. taking steps closer to try & draw the other backward. "don't you fucking dare bring her up to me." he speaks. "you beg so damn much to be mine -- all mine. this sure is a funny way of showing it." he shoves at him, arms raising in question on either side. "is this what you want, from me?" his voice was scary calm, as was his careful expression. lips pressed like teeth, with brows softly furrowed. he grabs william's collar & tugs him closer. "& what if i told you that you damn well are. huh?" he sticks his nose against will's.

"bring up my wife again & i'll throw you out. don't think i won't."

he seals their lips together, at that. rough hand curling into the waist of his shirt.

[huenjin]

don't wanna be friends.

pairing: hyunjin x reader | bff2l!au, pornstar!au

word count: 3.705 words

tw: pornstar!hyunjin, nsfw content — dick piercing!hyunjin, multiple orgasms, breast play, breath play, fingering, cunnilingus, marking, penetration, unprotected sex, dumbification, slight overstimulation, creampie, mentions of reader masturbating to hyunjin's porn and the porn explained in detail.

music rec: damage is done | devin hoffman.

note: this was an nsfw ask originally but it got way past the limit, so tada, made it into a oneshot. if anyone was wondering why it's in this format/theme. unedited, like every other work of mine.

you gulp down the next shot under hyunjin's watchful supervision. you've lost count of the shots you have taken and hyunjin has lost count of how many times he has told you to stop, that you are drinking too much.

"he told me that i can't fuck right. that i should at least pretend to fake it to satiate him," you scoff, another tear rolling down from the brim of your eyes and hyunjin wraps his arms around you, pulling into him to comfort you. "i can't— jinnie, i just don't come when he fucks me. i— maybe something is wrong with me. maybe i just can't orgasm when someone—"

"hush," hyunjin slowly taps your back to keep your thoughts shut. "there's nothing wrong with you, minion. you're fine." he pushes your big round spectacles up, calling you by the name he's always teased you with.

you slam the shot glass down, eyes groggy and head woozy from all the drinks you've gulped down. you lean forward, eyes wide open, glasses sliding down as you look closely at your best friend.

hwang hyunjin is attractive. you've always known your best friend is attractive. his bright eyes that light up at the sight of his dog, kkami, running to him right after you cuddled kkami forever. or the way his face morphs into one of disgust when you threaten to put eggplants into his plate. or the way he'd cuddle you when the weather gets too cold. hyunjin is attractive, both in looks and behaviour.

beyond this, your best friend, hwang hyunjin, is insatiable in the eyes of many women and men, including yours. a pornstar by profession, he knows the ways around women, having them come undone in his hold in minutes — you refuse to believe it's orchestrated. you know how he is in bed or at least what the biz wants him to exhibit and that alone has you trembling.

and to make matters worse in your end, you've orgasmed only once your whole life and that was during the time when you played with yourself while stumbling upon his porn (you were randomly searching for one and the temptation to watch your best friend just exceeded everything).

you knew his profession for so long — hyunjin told it to you over a glass of wine that you spat onto his white shirt the minute he told you about it. the conversation was never spoken about after that.

until today.

"what are you doing, minion? damn," he chuckles, "you really look like a minion with those glasses."

you still once you close in on hyunjin. hands on his chest, eyes fixated on his, you lick your lips and hyunjin's eyes widen, eyes unknowingly trailing downwards till he has to tear his gaze away, reminding himself that it's you, that it's his best friend.

"do you want to fuck me?" liquid courage, indeed.

"you must be kidding me?"

"why? you do this regularly."

hyunjin shoves you away, pushing you back against the couch. his eyes narrows on your figure and you fold your arms. he huffs, eyes glaring at you before looking away. he stretches his arm to take a glass and pour himself a drink, gulping it down and feeling the much needed burn in his throat.

"why?" you whine. "jinnie, that's your job. fuck me. you don't mind it. i'll just be one of those girls."

"i do mind it," he raises his voice. "you're not just one of those girls. fuck, y/n, you're the only constant in my life. why would i fuck that up?"

you bite your lower lip, eyes watering at the rejection suddenly. your drunkenness is what stirs the emotional side in you and your heart is heavy. you just want to be able to fuck like everyone else, just want to feel the bliss your friends talk about, the euphoria they reach.

"wait, are you going to cry?"

"no," you bite your tongue from letting out the sob. "i won't cry. you're not the first guy to reject me. this is normal. no one wants to—"

"y/n."

"—fuck me. who would want to fuck the girl that can't orgasm, let alone fake one?" you let out a fake laugh, tears finally rolling down your eyes.

"oh goodness," hyunjin sighs. he pulls you into him for a hug, rubbing your back soothingly. "you're my best friend, y/n. i shouldn't—"

"i want you to," you look up at him. hyunjin heaves in a huge breath. it catches in his throat as he looks down at you. god, he loves you. he has loved you for years now but who would want to be in a relationship with a guy who fucks girls for a living? not anyone sane. you deserve better. fuck, you deserved so much better than him.

yet, his heart won't stay still. his mind won't stop racing with thoughts he shouldn't normally have about his best friend. heavens, you have hyunjin wrapped around your finger and you don't even know it.

"y/n, don't—"

hyunjin loses his last bit of control over your proposition the minute you place your lips over his. it's exactly as he has envisioned. soft, delicate and everything that kept him away from breaking. you capture his bottom lip, kissing him softly, hands trailing under his sweater. hyunjin feels the goosebumps rising up, your warmth seeping into his. it takes everything in hyunjin to keep his hands away.

you pull away, catching your lower lip with your teeth before letting go and looking away, "you won't even kiss me back. am i that worse? do i kiss bad? jinnie, i just want to be—"

hyunjin has his hands on your face, turning it for you to look at him before he has his lips crashing down on yours, taking your breath away. you heave, breath hitching and you gasp.

hyunjin is aphrodite. the very reincarnation of sin. he creeps into you just as you expected, crawling into your mind and captivating every single sense of yours. your hands are in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body. his hand sprawls over your neck and his thumb presses into the neck, rubbing slow circles. he kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his sweater and you are moaning into his mouth.

you pull away for a second, fingers digging into his clothes, tugging at it to be thrown away and hyunjin obliges. helping you out of yours too, the two of you face each other stark naked. you take him in for the divinity he is in your head, eyes trailing down to his slightly erect dick and you gasp.

it's true. the videos don't lie. he is bigger than you had seen, girth firmer than you had envisioned and the frenum piercing has you salivating. it shines under the lighting, your eyes unable to drift away from it, lips parted slightly and heavens, hyunjin can't take his eyes away from you either. was this what he was missing out all this while in the name of friendship?

his lips are back on yours, your breasts firm against his chest as his cock rubs against your inner thigh. it's messy, heavy and has you panting for breath, chasing after his tongue, wrapped around yours like they never want to let go.

quicksand. this is quicksand. you're falling in too quick; falling into everything hyunjin has to offer way too quickly. and you love it. your mind is rid of thoughts. just hyunjin, hyunjin, hwang hyunjin. he pushes back, still kissing you heavily, till your back hits the soft covers of the couch and he's hovering over you.

hyunjin's tongue licks your lower lip, causing you to moan and he's groaning at the sensation, pulling apart for air few minutes later. he cups your face, thumb brushing the side and you lean into his palm.

"i— we should—"

"no, please don't stop," you beg. "not now. please. we're in too deep to stop."

"but y/n—"

"please fuck me, jinnie. fuck me like you fucked soojin."

hyunjin's eyes widens and he pulls away from you. looking at you as if he's staring into your soul, he gulps. "how did you—" his cheeks redden. "wait—" you bite your lower lip. hyunjin pulls the rubber band that holds his hair up, causing the silver strands to fall forward. he runs his finger through it, pushing it back as he holds it tightly to focus. "you watched my porn."

you gulp, lips drying up and you nod, running your mouth quickly to justify yourself. "i did. it was supposed to be a one time thing but—" you look away. "—i touched myself to that. i fingered myself to you fucking soojin and it's the only time i came."

if hyunjin has been just losing it all this while, now, he has lost it completely. his eyes darken, a light growl leaving his lips as he holds your legs and pulls you closer into his kneeling self. you groan slightly in his grip.

"you want me to fuck you like i fucked soojin?"

"yes—"

"want me to fuck you like some doll, huh?" he bends forward, kissing your neck, sucking at the skin till they stain purple to his pleasure. hyunjin marks you all the way to your breasts, covering your skin with both dark and light marks as you repeatedly confirm, "yes, yes, yes."

hyunjin pulls away, staring at you almost tauntingly, licking his lips and running his hand through his hair. he drops the words like they are heavy. "tell me then. tell me what i did and i'll do the same to you, just like you wished."

"you fuck—"

"no," he shakes his head. "in detail. from the very first scene. you'll get only what you ask for. nothing more. nothing less. so, go on, doll. tell me."

the power you hold is insane. you do not know how to use it, however. having never been given this much power, you look at your best friend for a while before slowly telling him. the words seem foreign to you but if this is how it is going to be, and if this helps you come, you're doing it.

"y-you kissed her first." your voice is barely audible. like you're telling hyunjin a secret. hyunjin catches your lips yet again, tongue presses against your lower lip before he slips it in, tangling it with yours as he kisses you. you moan, eyes closing as your hand wrap around his axle, hands pressed on his back. your fingers plays with the few strands of his silver dyed hair at the nape. he pulls back, waiting for you to continue.

with a little more confidence and the huge amount of liquid courage in you, you demand, "you marked her up like you just did to me. i hate that you marked her up. i hated it so much but turned me on."

hyunjin sucks a hickey right above your breast, speaking into your skin, "you hated it, doll?"

"yes. wanted it to be me." hyunjin's teeth grazes your skin and you moan, "fuck." your fingers pull his hair lightly and hyunjin grunts, teeth biting into your skin, making a dark mark that has you arch your back and your thigh to rub against his cock.

"what else did you see me do, doll?" his mouth trails further down to your breast and you gasp.

"you sucked on her breasts. played with it harshly." hyunjin abides by it, sucking on your breasts, tongue lapping around your nipples and drawing out circles by it. "yes, yes— fuck, jinnie, oh my—" hyunjin finds it seductive as fuck that you never complete your sentences as you moan. and he wants you like that — barely being able to say words besides his name. that's all he needed to hear.

"you played with soojin's other breast at the same time like—" his hand is already on your right breast. it pinched the nipple, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. the pain shoots up and it clouds your senses, causing you to grind on his cock. your arousal leaks through you, and you feel yourself grow wetter with every single flick of hyunjin's tongue.

his right hand is still on your breast, his lips trail downward. your breath hitches in your throat and you let out a shortened sigh as he breathes lowly against your skin, kissing it before landing right in front of your core, wet with want for the man before you.

"so fucking wet and what for, doll?"

"your cock, oh my god. jinnie, want your cock in me. please." you beg, writhing in his hold as he grabs your breast, fondling it in his hold.

"that's not what i did in that video. go on, continue." it's stern with command and has you spitting out the next in sequence instantly.

"you—" hyunjin is playing with your nipples as he waits for you to speak. his finger twist and turn your nipples and you're squeezing your thighs together in this intense pleasure. "fuck, can't think, jinnie. i don't know. i—"

"no, no," he hushes. kissing your pubic mound and licking small stripes, he mumbles, "you have to remember the only porno that had you come, right?"

"you—" you feel his warm breath all over your core and a gush of arousal oozes out. "you had your mouth on her pussy. you ate her out till she came, oh my god. you ate her out—"

"well done, doll." and his lips are on your wet ones. he licks at the lips, pushing it apart as he takes in your arousal, lapping in to take it all. it's merciless. and if you thought his porn was intense, you forgot all about how hyunjin himself was a walking pornography. the way his tongue licks your lips, tip teasing your entrance as he rubs your clit, slowly. he draws small circles over it, tapping at the engorged button till your toes curl in, knees lift up to bend for your feet to press down. your eyes are squeezed shut and your fingers pull at his hair every time you feel the knot tightening.

the room is filled with lewd noises and your moans, resonating through the whole area for you to hear it out in the silence. it's pornographic. the voices you make resemble those that you heard. hyunjin licks another stripe up your sodden lips before wrapping the plump pair around your clit and sucking on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly.

his teeth grazes over your clit, nibbling slightly till you feel the knot clench in your stomach. it's a vortex forming deep within and from the one time experience you have, you know. it's coming. you're so close. hyunjin rubs your clit furiously, mouth moving back your lip as he eats you out. he pulls apart right when he knows you're soon to come and in a second, two of his fingers are deep within you, rubbing against your inner walls and you're crying out his name just like he wanted.

it's hyunjin, hyunjin, hyunjin. that's all he can hear — his name dripping in saccharine from your mouth, topped with all those insatiable moans that leave your lips and hyunjin quickens his pace. the two fingers thrust in and out of you, finding the spot and rubbing at the walls to elicit a particular reaction — hyunjin is searching. searching for that one spot that will have you ruined for him.

"fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, what—"

the minute he touches a particularly soft area, he has you grinding down on him, chanting his name like a mantra and he knows — hyunjin's found your spot. he rubs it as he curves his fingers, having you arch further into him. he sucks on your clit, fingers thrusting in you relentlessly.

and you come undone so easily that it's a surprise how your ex couldn't do this for you. you see the white under your eyelids as you come undone. hyunjin helps you ride it out. he removes his fingers and licks you clean, taking in every single drop of your orgasm.

"told you that you were perfect," he says, looking at you and smiling. he kisses your mound as he lifts your hips up. "you're the most perfect human being ever. so how in the world could anything be wrong with you?" he wipes away the tears rolling down your eyes, as an effect from the intensity of the orgasm you went through. "so, doll, now tell me what else did i do?"

your mind is blank. you can't think of anything. your mind is filled with just the man before you in all his naked glory and how you just want him. "want you, jinnie. please. i want your dick. please want that."

"that's not the answer to my question," he huffs. "did i not lift her legs up like this?" he lifts your legs and places it over his shoulders. his erect cock is angled right and he rubs the head all over your wetness. you hitch and whine, stuttering how much you want him. "did i fuck my doll dumb? did i fuck out all your brains, baby? oh no. should i fuck you more? can you answer that, doll?"

you nod, lips parting. "want jinnie's dick. want it. want it in me."

"as you wish, doll," and he inserts it into you, pushing your walls apart with his fingers till he thrusts completely into you. his piercing underneath his shaft drags against your walls, the cold metal adding the extra sensation that tingles your nerves. his large hands hold your hips up, your ankles hitting his back bone everytime he thrusts into you. he uses his one hand to hold your wrists together above you as he hits your spot over and over again. the friction of his big cock and the frenum piercing is all too much right after one orgasm. the stimulation is over bearing and you know why the girl in the video has her eyes roll up, tongue out and lips swollen.

hyunjin plunges into you and you gush all over his cock, coating almost all of his length with your arousal. hyunjin is barely in but he is already hitting your spot, hot tip brushing against it vicariously and the frenum piercing cold against it. the friction is enough to have the knot tighten so fast and hard that you know this is going to overpower you. hyunjin lets go of you wrists but you hold them above you obediently. his hand trails to hold your breast, squeezing it and fondling with it; the other holding your legs up securely.

with every thrust, his piercing drags against your walls and his balls slap against your cheeks. tears spill down your face as you scream loudly, "jin-ah, fuck. jinnie, jinnie, jinnie. it's too much, oh my god. i can feel it. oh—"

"you're taking it like a good, good doll for me. you can take more. i know you can." he takes his cock out. he wraps his fingers around it and dragging it across your slit and your core, the frenum piercing rubbing against it and you're ready to snap again.

and without any warning, he enters into you again, this time harshly and with a quicker pace. it is fast and hard and has you gripping onto him for the life of yours, your hands moving to hold his biceps, fingers digging into it. hyunjin fucks you like he wants to take you to heaven and back. like he wants to show you everything you are missing out and that there's nothing wrong with you. it's the men. always the men.

"going to fuck you and show you how you should be fucked. how you should be getting it. going to fuck you dumb, doll and have you be mine."

he doesn't stop. hyunjin is grunting and huffing as he thrusts repeatedly in you, his pubic bone hitting your clit and causing short sorts of heightened sensations.

"jinnie! i'm coming. i'm coming. oh fuck, i'm—"

second one in a span of few hours. if you could think properly, you would be surprised at how you came twice. it's surprising that you've come thrice so far in your whole life and all three times were to be credited to hwang hyunjin, your best friend.

you come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you are weeping. you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain as you clench tightly on his cock. hyunjin doesn't stop however, as he chases after his own high, thrusting even faster if it were possible and overstimulating you. in a few minutes, hyunjin is coming in you. hot white spurts of his cum coating your insides as he thrusts his orgasm out, only to pull it out eventually and have his white come and yours poze out and stain the couch.

your eyes are shut and you are panting heavily, chests rising and hyunjin brushes your hair away from your face, wiping the sweat that has accumulated by your forehead. he places your legs down and mumbles, "you okay, minion?"

"hm," you respond. that's all you can say. you were too fucked out to think or do anything. hyunjin chuckles and slowly getting off the couch, he carefully lifts you up into his arms. you snuggle into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. "where are we going?"

hyunjin barely hears you question with how soft it was. you repeat and it is the second time that he hears it perfectly.

"going to clean you up and rest you in bed. you need to sleep well now." you nod, snuggling further into his chest as he carries you into his bedroom.

hyunjin's wrong, though. when he wondered how in the world anything could be wrong with you, he clearly knew there is something wrong with you.

you are too dense to ever realise how deep his feelings are for you.

[donutloverxo]

His salvation

Note - for my love @evnscvll's 3k follower challenge. Congrats and i hope you like it.

Anon asked for "Mobster!steve making u dress in white lingerie specifically and act innocent so the purity of it is always a contrast to him and his gritty life whew it is hot in here"

Summary - You're Steves light. He can't let you go even if he knows he's bad for you.

Themes - mob au, smut, pwp, soft dark Steve, master/sir kink, dom/sub dynamics, cockwarming, slut shaming.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve had always believed he was born in blood and darkness. Doomed to stay there forever. Forced to do things he didn’t want.

To have people expect the world from him. Put him up on a pedestal. Having to match their standards.

Maybe no one is truly forced to do anything. Maybe that’s a lie he told himself so he could sleep at night.

It didn’t really matter either way. His soul would forever be tainted. No matter how many times he washed them, his hands will always be dirty.

His father died when he was only 20. As sad as he was. He was free as well. He was almost happy. He thought he wouldn’t have to live under the mobsters tight fist anymore. That he could use his power and his name for some good.

But he was surrounded by cartels, gangs and bad men. Who he owed many things to, on his fathers behalf. He never did try to stop fighting to get out of the quicksand, which only made him sink further. Believing that there would always be a light at the end of the tunnel. That someday he'd get to be normal.

Turns out the light was you. He decided so as soon as he saw you. Who knew a sweet simple waitress would save him from himself.

You were all smiles and politeness as you took down his and his associates orders. He still remembers your smudged pink lipstick, your white apron.

He found out how innocent and pure you were when you finally gave in and let him take you out to dinner. He doubted you had ever done anything bad in your life.

He choked on his wine when you told him that you’re a virgin. He had his suspicions but he really couldn’t believe how no one had ever touched someone as beautiful as you and took your innocence away.

He was elated when you told him that you wanted him to be your first. That you couldn’t be with anyone but him. That he had ruined you for other men.

The first time with you was the greatest night of his life. The best sex he ever had. Who knew it'd be with a virgin?

You weren’t like most women. Flaunting around their assets, leaving nothing to the imagination.

No. You were real and honest. So responsive to his touch. Your moans didn’t sound rehearsed, as if something you copied from watching too much gratuitous pornography.

Your cunt was adorned with soft dark curls. Completely natural. Just the way he liked. He drank from you as if he hadn’t drank anything for years. Revelling in the way he made you feel so good that you cried real tears for him.

But loving you came with a price. He couldn’t help but feel terrified of just how intense his feelings were. Because he knew you deserved the whole world. You deserved to be happy.

Because he knew he wasn’t the best for you. It wouldn’t be too long before you found out what he did for a living.

If you wanted to leave it would be understandable. But would he let you? He didn’t know.

He walked into your shared bedroom when you didn’t greet him at the door, he assumed you’d be asleep. But here you were putting on some sort of concoction on your face.

He put the little gift he got you aside and sneaked up behind you.

“Boo!” He screamed in your ear and chuckled at the startled noise you made.

You frowned as you spilled the multani clay all over your lap. All thanks to your man. You looked at him over your shoulder. Your frown creasing the drying clay on your face. “Thanks a lot.” You stood up removing your soiled robe.

His smile left his face as he delivered a harsh smack on your behind. You yelped and landed your palms down on your dressing table to support your weight.

He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “What have we said about sassing me my dear?” He whispered lowly, caressing your bum before smacking it again.

“Only bad girls talk back.” You whimpered tears spilling from your eyes. “I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean to.” You sobbed as he kept delivering sharp smacks to both your cheeks. Disappointed that you let him down, feeling the sharp pain in your ass, humiliated at the wetness pooling between your legs.

He sneaked a hand up your nightgown and past your panties. Pressing a thumb against your second hole. One he hadn’t had the opportunity to fuck yet. “Maybe I should some pay attention here as well.” He suggested pressing his thumb inside you.

“Whatever you want sir. I’ll do anything for you.” You breathed out as you felt him push two of his fingers in your heat. Working both your holes expertly. Almost tipping you over the edge.

You would be embarrassed of just how he could play with you so well that he had you cuming in mere minutes. But right now you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Too lost in the glorious pleasure. You had missed him terribly for the last few days. You couldn’t even touch yourself to relieve your aching pussy. It was against the rules laid out by Steve.

He pulled his fingers out of you all too soon as you whimpered at the loss. More tears escaping your eyes wetting the clay you had put on.

He delivered another sharp slap to your upper thigh. “Stop it. You know bad girls don’t get to cum.” He chastised your insolent behavior. He wanted to feel you gush around his fingers, but he couldn’t have you thinking you could speak to him however you liked.

To be so arrogant and bratty was unbecoming of you and he wasn’t having any of it. “It’s your own fault. You ruined it for both of us.” He said sternly as he moved you around to make you look at him.

His heart melted, all his anger fading away at the defeated and sad look on your face. “What’s this on your face?” He frowned at your brown face pack. Restricting him from seeing your face.

“It’s supposed to be good for your skin. I was just getting ready for our anniversary tomorrow.” You looked down shyly averting his eyes “I wanted to look pretty for you sir.” You mumbled.

You were too good to be true. So kind and considerate to him when he had just been so cruel and malicious to you. He supposed the stark contrast was only one of the million things he loved about you and your relationship.

He hummed at. Almost dropping to his knees then and there to finish you off with his mouth. But he had other plans for tonight.

He pushed his wet middle and forefinger, which were deep inside your cunt just a few seconds ago, against your lips. “You know what to do princess.” He instructed as you them in your mouth, suckling on them to clean them up.

He could hardly hold on. Just imagining your warm wet mouth around his cock had him almost cuming in his pants.

“Wash it off doll. You don’t need it. If you become anymore beautiful I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.” He growled gripping your hips, perhaps a bit too harshly, grinding his hardness against your core.

You let out another pathetic whimper and gave him a small nod, complying instantly like you always do, walking towards the bathroom.

“Wait” He called out stopping you in your tracks. He handed you the paper bag. “Put that on.” He instructed.

“What is it?” You curiously peeked inside the bag.

“It’s your anniversary gift doll. Now go put it on.” He said growing more and more impatient by the minute. You hurried off into the bathroom. It was really more of a gift for him than you. But he had bought you some diamonds and pretty purses. He didn’t feel that guilty.

If he did have any semblance of guilt, it instantly faded away as he laid his eyes on you. Wearing the white satin baby doll he had picked out, with white lace on the edge of it. It ended just below your ass, giving him a generous view of your thick thighs and legs.

“Come here dove.” He extended an arm to you as you lingered at the bathroom door. Playing with the lace of your new nightie.

You gulped down and walked to him and stood in front of him. “Uh sir...” You trailed off as you couldn’t gather enough courage, not being able to concentrate with his large hands roaming freely on your body.

“What dove?” He asked feeling your ass over the smooth material.

“It – didn’t have any panties. Did they fall somewhere or something?” You stammered so embarrassed that you felt you’d cry.

You trusted Steve with your life but you couldn’t help the but feel exposed and embarrassed whenever his hungry eyes feasted upon you when you were naked. You had never put on any kind of lingerie for him before. Steve never seemed to mind your simple bras or comfortable granny panties. This was so new and scary for you. But at the same time oh so exciting.

“It did come with panties. But satin isn’t supposed to be good for you dove.” He explained. “I prefer you this way. It gives me free reign to do whatever I want with you.” He slipped a hand between your legs and caressed the inside of your thighs.

“At the end of the day. You are mine.” He pulled his hand away and jutted your chin up to make you look at him. “Now don’t you think you should apologize for being so rude to your master?” He asked and you nodded eagerly. “Get to work then. If you do a good job maybe I’ll go easy on you.” He said pushing on your shoulders to make you kneel in front of him.

Your shaky fingers worked to undo his zipper and pulling him out of his underwear. You gasped as his cockhead slapped your face before standing tall against his lower abdomen.

You licked your hand wrapping it around his thick length. You stroked him slowly watching in awe as beads of white cream oozed from his tip.

“You can do better than that.” He groaned nudging his cock against your lips and slowly pushing it in. He grunted at your warmth and wetness as he bottomed out, touching the back of your throat. Smirking as you gagged around him.

He looked down at you. Wishing he could rip out his phone and capture the image forever. You on your knees, looking up at him adoringly as if he’s your whole world, your mouth stretched wide as he fucked it. He was living the dream.

He grabbed a hold of your head with both his hands and hastily pushed and pulled out of your mouth. You cupped his balls and played with them, just as he had taught you.

He pulled you off of him. You looked up at him scared that he was still mad with you. “Aw don’t look so disappointed.” He cooed smoothening his hand over your hair “Need to cum in your cunt.” He rasped. “I’ll let you swallow it later dove. I plan to go all night.” He smirked as your eyes widened. Probably worried about how you could keep up with him. He did love testing you.

He impatiently manhandled you and dropped you on the bed. Making quick work of taking off his shirt and pants. He settled between your legs wrapping them around his waist. He wanted to taste you. To get lost between your legs. But he’d save that for later as well.

You bit his shoulder as he entered you. Still not used to his length. Your cunt burning in the best way at the hard and warm weight of him.

“Oh Steve...” You chanted his name and then a series of ‘oh my goodness' as he fucked into you, the sounds of his balls slapping your cunt so purely sinful. He didn’t mind you saying his given name while so delirious with pleasure. It was the only thing he was willing to look past.

He was almost there. Going days without you had only served to feed his hunger for you. But he held off. He wanted to see you finish first.

You looked so gorgeous, completely fucked out under him. Your breasts bouncing under the thin satin as he pounded into you. He lifted your hips and gave a particularly harsh thrust to strike your special spot.

From the way you screamed at the top of your lungs he knew he found it.

Being the sweet angel that you are, you had always been shy about the loud noises you made whenever he had his way with you. Even tried to stifle them. As if he would let you hide such beautiful sounds. He made sure to teach you that you could be yourself, as wild as you wished to be, in the bed you both shared.

When he felt your tight channel clenching around him, now he was the one who couldn’t keep from screaming. He spilled deep inside you rolling his hips to tease your clit.

He pulled your thigh over his hips, snuggling against your back. Gently palming and feeling your breasts and rolling his hips again to settle his soft cock in you in the right angle, to make sure he his seed stayed inside you. So he could be as close to you as he can. Feeling you, smelling you all around him.

You were his and he was yours. He would never let anyone or anything change that.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and feedback are appreciated! ❤❤

Beautiful dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[kpop-zone]

Red Velvet reaction to their s/o finding out that they started dating them for a bet

Irene

As soon as Joohyun noticed that you were falling quiet, she knew that her lie had blown up. For over a year, she had managed to hide the truth about your first encounter in order to protect you. But now Sooyoung’s improvidence had to make everything crumble. Joohyun couldn’t be mad at her friend though. It had always only been a matter of time till she had to be honest with you. She knew that lies didn’t travel far. Sooyoung had just been the trigger to unveil everything.

Therefore, Joohyun gave you space the rest of the evening until your guests finally went home and left the two of you alone in your apartment. You still decided to weight down the atmosphere with heavy silence and Joohyun was getting more anxious by the minute. Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and neared you carefully. Slowly, she lifted her hands and barely grazed your skin with her fingertips, but you flinched as if she had hurt you.

“Is it true?”

You asked with a shaky voice while keeping your back turned to her.

Joohyun knew that she could pretend to be clueless right now or play everything down. But you didn’t deserve that. After everything, you deserved the truth.

“Yes.”

She simply answered, causing a heart wrenching sob to echo in the room that was making her breath hitch in her throat.

“Y/N...”

The words in Joohyun’s brain were completely jumbled and she didn’t know where to start. All these months, she had known that this day would come eventually, but now that it was there, she was completely caught off guard, nevertheless. A simple apology wouldn’t be able to cut it. Her silence, however, was probably making everything worse.

“So it was all a lie?”

You finally piped up through your tears and turned around to face her.

This time, Joohyun didn’t need a second to find an answer.

“No! Of course not! The girls just bet that I wouldn’t ask you out. But everything after that was real. I stayed out of interest; I swear.”

Her voice cracked and tears started pooling in her eyes when Joohyun saw the pain in your face.

You didn’t believe her.

“How can I know that you’re telling the truth now? What if this is all still part of your sick bet?”

Joohyun’s worst nightmare became true with your question, but after countless sleepless nights, she still didn’t have an answer to it.

How could she prove to you that she was being honest this time?

“Please, Y/N. I’m not lying.”

She whispered in desperation, but you only scoffed in response.

“Just...leave me alone.”

With that, you rushed off to the bedroom and slammed the door.

Alone in the living room, Joohyun’s walls finally broke down and she started crying silently.

“I love you.”

She choked out between sobs, although you weren’t able to hear her words.

If you asked her for space, she would give you as much as you needed. This was all her fault. She should have never agreed to take such an evil bet. She should have never kept the truth from you. But something had told her all along that the truth would cause a deep rift between the two of you and she simply couldn’t lose you.

She would do anything to keep you in her life.

Seulgi

“Hm I bet...you won‘t ask Y/N out.”

The distant sound of a video recording made Seulgi’s blood freeze. She knew that sentence, the loud song blaring in the background, the mischievous laughs of her friends. In lightning speed, she ran to the bedroom, but when she arrived it was already too late. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you stared at the screen of her old phone that she had carelessly given to you after you had lost yours. The sight caused tears to well in her own eyes and she slowly walked up to you.

“It’s not what it looks like...”

You flinched in surprise at first, but when you realized who the voice belonged to, even more tears stained your face.

“Then why are you crying?”

You chuckled sadly, hurt resonating in your voice.

“I...do-...yo-....please.”

At a loss for words, Seulgi stuttered incomprehensible syllables while heavy sobs made it almost impossible to choke out a sound.

“Just tell me that this isn’t real. Tell me that you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Your voice was shaking in desperation and Seulgi would love nothing more than to fulfill your wishes.

But she couldn’t.

Because she had done those terrible things. She had betrayed you and instead of coming clean to you, she had been lying to you all along.

“I’m so sorry.”

Seulgi cried out while collapsing next to you onto the bed.

Her own sobs resonating in the room blurred with yours and Seulgi imagined hearing both of your hearts break in that moment.

A dip in the mattress caused her to lift her head though and she could see that you had jumped off the bed.

“No! Don’t go! Let’s talk. I swear I love you.”

Seulgi begged but you dismissed her by shaking your head.

“I can’t. Our relationship has been built on a lie; that’s not a solid foundation. You wouldn’t build a house on quicksand, would you?”

The finality of your words felt like they were choking her windpipe and Seulgi gasped for air.

“No, don’t say that.”

She replied, but you already started walking to the door. Without turning back, you left her behind in the room and exited the apartment. Feeling her world crushing down on her, Seulgi threw herself on the bed and buried her head in a pillow to silence her sobs.

What a monster did she have to be to betray a person like you?

Her guilt was pressing her down until the door of her room swung open again and she heard the agitated voices of her members. She sat up to face them, but as soon as she saw the worry in their eyes, her helplessness came rushing back.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Those were the last words she managed to choke out before breaking down once more and feeling herself getting buried in a hug by her members.

Wendy

“Ok I definitely know that something is wrong, even if you deny it. You didn’t sing in the car! So spill it.”

You giggled as the two of you entered your apartment after returning from your date night that was supposed to be cute and fun. But no matter how hard Seungwan tried, she couldn’t act like everything was alright.

Because it wasn’t.

The two of you had hit it off right from the start and she had tried to store the memories of your first encounter far, far back in her head. But her bad conscious was killing her. She needed to come clean, even if it meant that she would ruin what you had.

“I need to tell you something. I haven’t been honest with you.”

Seungwan blurted out, causing the smile on your face to disappear.

“What’s wrong?”

The concern in your voice was breaking Seungwan’s heart, because it was clear that you were concerned for her and not expecting a betrayal. You couldn’t be more wrong though.

“I think, we should sit down for this.”

She sighed while sitting down at the table. She would try to confess everything in the gentlest way possible, but she knew that there was probably no way to prevent the pain.

You looked confused as you sat down across from her, but you mainly seemed to be worried for her. There had always been nothing but trust between the two of you and she knew that she would be breaking it tonight. For a second, Seungwan felt like lying once more and keeping her secret forever. Then, however, she remembered that she could never say that she truly loved you while holding back a lie. Therefore, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes before starting to confess.

“You remember the night we met? It wasn’t a coincidence that I started dancing with you of all people. We were all pretty wasted and Yeri dared me to flirt with you until you grab a drink with me.”

After rattling off her confession, Seungwan slowly peeked her eyes open to see an utter look of disbelief on your face, causing her to feel nauseous.

“I’m sorry for not having been completely honest with you. And I know that what I have done is truly awful and that what I am about to say will probably mean nothing to you, but...please believe me, everything after that night has been real!”

Seungwan used your speechlessness to add an explanation even though she guessed that you needed a while to process everything. Nevertheless, she needed to get that off her chest.

“I...I need time to think.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper, but it was the answer that Seungwan had expected all along.

Therefore, she stood up from the table and walked to the front door to leave. Before exciting the apartment, however, she turned around.

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Joy

“Y/N!! No, wait!!”

Sooyoung’s voice cracked as she was yelling at the top of her lungs while rushing past you to block your way.

Breathlessly, she looked into your tearstained face. She was just so angry. You should have never learned about the circumstances of your first encounter. Why did it matter? In the end, she had been drawn to you because of you; because you had made her fall in love. Therefore, everyone had agreed to never lose a word about that godforsaken bet. But tonight, Hyoseob just had to break his promise. If you hadn’t run away, Sooyoung was sure that she would have made him a head shorter. But you had wanted to slip away from her, so she needed to chase you.

“Let me explain!”

Sooyoung asked, but you shook your head reluctantly.

“What is there to explain? You played me, you lied to me, you hid things from me. I think it’s pretty clear.”

You yelled, catching the attention of the other guests in the restaurant. But Sooyoung couldn’t care less. She wouldn’t let you walk out of her life; she needed to make it up to you.

“It’s not clear! Yes, I’ve took that stupid bet, but that was just that one time. All the other times I took you out were because I fell in love with you.”

Sooyoung softened her voice and tried moving closer to you, but you backed away.

“Is that so? Or maybe someone else dared you to even make me fall in love with you.”

Your accusation made Sooyoung gasp appalled.

“NO! I would have never toyed with your feelings like that. It was just that one date. Y/N you know me! I love you.”

Her anger had completely vanished by now which left her with pure desperation instead. This was exactly why she had never wanted to talk about this bet ever again. Of course, you felt betrayed. You had every right to. But you shouldn’t. The past didn’t matter anymore; she truly loved you now.

“But you did toy with my feelings! I always thought it was love at first sight between the two of us. Can you even imagine how much it hurts to learn that it wasn’t? That it was all just a game to you?”

Your pain could be heard in your voice and the sound of it crushed Sooyoung’s heart.

What was she supposed to reply now? There was no one on this planet that loved you more than her, but it was true, it hadn’t been love at first sight for her. Without the bet, she probably would have never talked to you.

“It’s not a game to me now anymore though...”

Sooyoung whispered while tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized that she was talking to a brick wall; deservingly.

“I don’t care.”

You scoffed before pushing past her to exit the restaurant.

What had she done? Where did everything go wrong? Could she have prevented all of this if she had talked to you earlier?

Questions over questions flooded Sooyoung’s brain and she started to feel dizzy. There was one thing that she knew for sure though.

This couldn’t be the end of your relationship.

With that thought on her mind, Sooyoung rushed through the door and into the night to chase you.

Yeri

“Aw...that’s just how we met.”

You giggled before snuggling up to Yeri while the two of you were watching a cheesy romance. Your comment should have caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach, but instead, Yeri felt a stinging pain in her heart.

It was exactly like the two of you met...except that she had talked to you in order to win a bet.

Everything about your first encounter had been a lie. She had told you that she loved the artist whose song you had been dancing to excitedly; although she really hated that song. But she had wanted to get your number and to ask you out, so it was a necessary lie. All for 100,000 Won. Back then she hadn’t known that you would simply blow her away on your first date. She had thought that it was nothing but a way to prove her friends wrong. But in the end, it had been her that was proven wrong. One date turned into countless ones and she turned from a random stranger to your girlfriend.

The secret about your first encounter, however, stayed. Since your second date, Yeri had wanted to confess to you, but she didn’t know how to. Every time, she was close to telling you the truth, she chickened out in the last minute. No matter how many scenarios Yeri played in her head, there was never one in which you stayed together after her confession. She wouldn’t know how to mend the broken trust between the two of you. But with every day, her anxiety had grown. What if you did find out by accident one day? And how was she supposed to lie to you for the rest of your lives? This secrecy was following her like a dark shadow, no matter where she went.

“Yeri...are you crying?”

Your voice pulled Yeri back into reality and she found your eyes filled with worry. She didn’t bother to wipe away her tears. Instead, she let you pull her into a hug whose comfort she selfishly accepted. You were giving her comfort, although she was the one that had been playing you.

“What’s wrong?”

You asked after leaning back a bit to wipe away her tears.

“I can’t tell you. You will never talk to me again if I do.”

She sobbed but you instantly shook your head.

“What are you talking about?! You can always talk to me, Yeri. Please tell me what is bothering you.”

You replied while intertwining your hands to give hers an encouraging squeeze.

In that moment, Yeri realized that she couldn’t lie to you anymore. You didn’t deserve it and she wouldn’t be able to keep the secret from you forever. You were her safe haven after all; the one that she turned to no matter what hurdles she had to overcome. She needed to be honest.

“Promise me that you’ll stay.”

Despite her wish to be honest, Yeri couldn’t risk losing you. Even if she knew that this promise probably wouldn’t mean anything afterwards, she needed your assurance to give her enough courage to overcome her fear.

“You’re scaring me...”

For the first time tonight, you moved away from her and Yeri immediately felt her heart breaking. This would only be the beginning; she was sure of that.

“I only asked you out because of a bet.”

Not being able to hold in the secret any longer, Yeri simply blurted out the truth. Consequently, a variety of emotions flashed over your face, but in the end, a sadness that she had never seen before settled in your eyes.

“So you didn’t even like me?”

You asked shakily after a while, causing Yeri to lower her gaze in shame.

While she was still searching for the right words, a sudden loud sob made Yeri flinch and she looked at you in shock. Your face was buried behind your hands, but she could still see that you were crying heavily. Out of habit, she put her arms around you, only to feel you pushing her away a second later.

“Don’t touch me!”

You yelled, cutting a deep hole into her heart.

Helplessly, Yeri backed off and watched you crying. There was nothing that could compare to the pain that she was feeling right now, knowing that she had caused you this misery. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. There had to be a way that she could fix this. You loved her and she loved you. Couldn’t the two of you just leave the past behind? You had to.

Therefore, she kept sitting next to you, silently crying herself while watching you falling apart.

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 12

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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[Hermione]

It takes all of Hermione's effort to maintain focus. Her wandering mind threatens to suck her in like quicksand, taunting her with the recent memory of her perfect morning in bed with Ron. She can still feel Ron's legs tangled up with hers, swimming together in the luxurious satin sheets. The way his hands explored her body, tracing every curve with both firm confidence and tenderness, leaving a trail of goosebumps that reappear now. The faint smell of his cologne clings to her skin, leftover from when he pinned her to the bed, and remembering the taste of spearmint and coffee as he kissed her makes her mouth water. She wants more.

Ron's casual demeanor of the present moment isn't helping. She watches him down the line, deep in conversation with Seamus and Dean. His whole face lights up as he laughs at a joke Seamus just told. When he speaks, he uses his entire body; his eyes glow with enthusiasm, and his hands punctuate his every word. Unlike Hermione, he doesn't seem acutely aware of what he's doing with his arms, how he's standing, or whether he looks natural. He makes looking normal seem so easy.

Be cool, Hermione.

Any hope of emulating his calm confidence shatters when he catches her eye and winks. Her cheeks burn, her heart drums against her chest, and butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Or not.

The group is waiting patiently for their turn to enter The Slug Club, which can only be defined as a combination of a nightclub, theme park, and a casino. Hermione and Ron landed on this location for Harry and Ginny's joint hen and stag party for its all-in-one benefits. Less time wasted traveling between multiple venues means more time to kick back and relax, while eliminating the risk of losing someone during transitions.

Ginny jolts Hermione back to the present when she sidles up next to her and flings an arm around her shoulder. "So, where'd you sleep last night?"

Panic sets in as Hermione glances at her friend — Ginny's wearing a smug, knowing expression. She decides to play dumb. "What do you mean, Ginny?"

"C'mon, you weren't in your room. I came by to check on you! Did you spend the night with that guy from the bar?" Her eyebrows raise suggestively as she awaits an answer.

Hermione isn't sure how to respond. She's not keen on Ginny knowing about her and Ron yet, but she's even less keen on lying and saying she was with Cormac what's-his-name, but she'd have to pick one…

"Um—" she stalls, before someone interrupts her.

"She was with me." Lavender appears on Hermione's other side and smiles at Ginny. "Turns out that guy from the bar was the worst, so we went to my room so he wouldn't know where she was sleeping."

Hermione releases an audible sigh of relief, which Ginny mistakes as disgust.

"Ugh, I hate men," she says. "Except Harry, of course."

"Yeah. Men are the worst," says Lavender, and Hermione watches her gaze shift momentarily toward Ron and the boys.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," says Ginny. "All you wanted was a fun night out, and for some bloke to try and take advantage of you? I should have stuck by your side."

Feeling guilty, Hermione waves off her condolences — she had a great night last night, and wishes she didn't have to lie to Ginny. But alas, 'I shagged your brother!' isn't what most brides want to hear from a bridesmaid at their hen party.

The doors to The Slug Club open, and the bouncer waves them through, which absolves Hermione of the need to change the subject. Perfect timing.

Ginny skips toward the door to meet up with Harry, and Hermione turns to Lavender.

"Thanks for covering for me. I appreciate it."

Lavender nods but doesn't smile. "No problem. And for the record, I don't want details."

"Wasn't going to offer any," she returns, glancing at Lavender to discover she's watching the doorway, where Ron is passing through. He's still laughing and joking with the boys, and his eyes are bright and elated.

Looking back at Lavender brings a pang of sympathy. It's obvious by her expression that her mind is working a mile-a-minute to process the bittersweet emotion of seeing him so happy. Ron's laughter is contagious enough to bring a smile to Lavender's face, but it doesn't reflect in her eyes. Maybe it would if it had been her, not Hermione, that made Ron feel that way.

"Are you okay?" asks Hermione, even though she already knows the answer.

"Yes," says Lavender, meeting Hermione's gaze. They share a look of understanding, silently agreeing not to call out her lie. "Just don't hurt him."

Hermione looks back to Ron, catching his smiling face once more before he disappears into The Slug Club. She knows that neither of them can promise not to hurt the other, but something in her gut tells her that won't be the case.

Passing through the doors feels like entering a different world entirely. The venue appears much bigger on the inside than the outside suggested. She scans the room, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activities within reach. On one end, there's a dance floor, a glistening swimming pool, and a casino guarded by a fake willow tree. On the other end, there's a karaoke bar, a series of thrill rides that shouldn't fit inside the space and an elaborate miniature golf course made to look like a hedge maze. On closer inspection, it appears that each obstacle is guarded by a mythical creature — partiers laugh and point their clubs at talking sphinxes, dragons, and merpeople.

"Hey beautiful," Ron whispers in her ear, and his sudden appearance causes Hermione to jump.

"Hey," she croaks back; her voice catches in her throat, but the familiarity of his cologne soothes her rising heart rate. "I should start the tab."

"You're cute when you're flustered," he says, smirking.

Her cheeks heat up, and Ron chuckles with amusement. Hermione glances around to check if they've caught the attention of anyone in their party, but it seems like the grandiosity of The Slug Club is the perfect distraction. They've decided to keep the details of their relationship quiet for now, so as to not draw focus away from Harry and Ginny, but the way Hermione's body reacts to everything Ron says or does today might prove that difficult.

"Yes. The tab," says Hermione, feeling the weight of her wallet in her purse. She'd agreed to cover the bar tab for Ginny's party, but that doesn't mean she's ready to hand over her credit card to a stranger tending the bar, and let the coins fall where they may. She feels a little better when she lays her eyes on a familiar face at the bar. "Rosmerta?"

The blonde bartender smiles at Hermione. "Hey there!"

"You work here too?"

"Yes ma'am," she says, "and, please tell me you ditched that asshat from last night."

Hermione laughs, thankful that Rosmerta doesn't harbor any hard feelings toward her based on Cormac's behavior the night before. "Don't worry, he's long gone."

"Good. Ginger's better looking anyway."

"I agree," says Hermione, chancing a look at Ron. His ears turn pink, and Hermione hopes she hasn't embarrassed him.

"Would you two like something to drink?" asks Rosmerta.

"Actually, I'd like to start a tab," says Hermione.

"Under what name?"

"Harry and Ginny. It's for their entire wedding party," she says, wincing as she hands over her credit card.

"That's very generous of you," says Rosmerta. Tugging Hermione's card from her resisting fingers requires a little extra force.

Observing the interaction, Ron fishes into his pocket for his wallet.

"Can you split the tabs over two cards?" he asks, sliding his credit card across the bar to Rosmerta.

Hermione turns to him to protest. "You don't have to—"

"I want to!" he interrupts.

"I budgeted for this night," says Hermione.

"And have you seen how much these boys can drink? Let me split it with you."

The look in his eye tells Hermione there's no point in arguing with him, and she doesn't want to insult his pride. "Fine."

"Thank you, Rosmerta," says Ron.

"You're very welcome, handsome!"

Ron flushes at her comment but immediately directs his attention back to Hermione, flashing his adorably lopsided smile. Hearing another woman call him handsome, even non-threateningly, makes Hermione want to sidle up next to him and reach for his hand, something that would show the world he's hers. The fact that they agreed not to engage in any public displays of affection makes it all the more tempting.

Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione have also agreed to refrain from drinking tonight. It makes sense to have a few people thinking clearly in the group, just in case things get out of hand.

"Well, Hermione," asks Ron. "What should we do?"

Their friends seem to be drawn into the miniature golf course, and Harry, holding two clubs, waves them over.

"I guess that settles it," says Ron,

The walk toward the miniature golf course feels a mile long, especially in front of their friends. She knows that apart from Lavender, everyone's oblivious to their relationship, but their watchful eyes still feel like scrutiny. Once again, Hermione wonders how much distance there should be between two platonic friends walking together. The distracted chatter grows louder as they approach, which quiets her worries, and by the time they join, the group has already begun a round of golf, and is no longer paying them any attention.

"I bet you a drink that I can get a hole in one," says Ron, reaching for two putters. He hands one to her and casually bumps his shoulder against hers, sending a tingle down her spine. His confidence makes her nervous. Is she always this awkward?

"Didn't you want to stay sober tonight?" asks Hermione, silently hoping that he backtracks on their agreement. She could use the calming effect of a cocktail right now.

"Yep. But the drink can be any night."

"Deal," she says, taking the golf club from his extended hand, and knowing full well she'll probably be buying him, and herself, a drink later.

They follow behind the rest of the party, taking turns putting for the first few obstacles. Neither of them are any good, and they only get progressively worse as they continue further into the course. Someone's always heading back to the bar to replenish everyone's, save for Ron and Hermione's, drinks, and after a while, Hermione's too caught up watching everyone loosen up to think about the running tab.

Ron and Hermione continue to keep a safe distance apart, but as everyone else continues to drink, she questions how necessary it is. Harry and Ginny only have eyes for each other; Dean, Neville, and Seamus are in their own world, and Luna, Demelza and Lavender are quickly becoming too tipsy to pay any mind to Ron and Hermione, opting instead to try and attract the attention of a nearby group of men.

Everyone is equally terrible at miniature golf, but as time passes, and blood alcohol levels climb, Ron and Hermione start to look pretty good by comparison. The drunker everyone gets, the more affectionate they become, celebrating completed obstacles with high-fives, which turn into hugs, and then to kisses on cheeks. When Ginny jumps on Harry's back, Lavender and Demelza lock their arms around each other, and Dean picks up Seamus to carry him to the next hole, Hermione considers inching closer to Ron. No one would even notice, would they?

Hermione hits her next golf ball way off course, and it plunks down into a moat. Ron laughs.

"Wow, you're really terrible at this. Have you ever played before?"

She scoffs at him with mock indignation. "Hey!" she says, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "But no, I can't say I play much miniature golf."

"I guess I should show you how to swing," he says, taking a step closer to her. She scans for anyone's eyes on them.

"That's not really necessary," she says, and Ron grins at the suggestive tone of her voice.

"It's definitely not necessary."

She places another golf ball in the lane, and Ron positions himself behind her. He wraps his arms around her sides and grips her hands over the club. His hips press against her backside, and his body's instantaneous reaction suggests that keeping his distance from her is just as difficult for him too.

"So much for keeping our hands off each other," she whispers to him.

"No one's watching right now," he whispers back. "Plus, I'm just showing you how to hold a club. This is perfectly innocent."

Hermione presses her hips back against him, and he groans. Perfectly innocent.

"Is this right?" she asks.

"Fuck, yeah, it is."

Hermione can't help but laugh as Ron guides her club into a swing, then reluctantly pushes herself away from him. The longer they stay pressed together like that, the more likely they are to draw attention to themselves. He looks pained at first, but his expression turns smug when her golf ball sinks into the center hole on the first putt.

"Ha! You owe me a drink," he says.

"What are you talking about? That was my hit!" she argues back. "You owe me one."

"Okay," he says, smiling. "It's a win for me either way."

They lock eyes, and Hermione is tempted to give in and kiss him. His face is so close to hers, and would anyone really notice a short and sweet kiss?

Someone behind them clears their throat, and Hermione stiffens, only relaxing when she turns to see a couple she doesn't know. "Are you two almost done?"

"Erm, yeah. We are," says Ron hurriedly. "Sorry 'bout that." His face shines red, and they rush to clear the course.

Their friends seem to have disappeared, which nearly sends Hermione into a panic, but one glance around the club reveals they've just dispersed to their own activities. Seamus and Dean are now at the bar, Luna and Neville are off in a corner admiring an indoor garden, Ginny is cheering Harry on at one of the slot machines outside the casino, and Lavender and Demelza have taken to the stage for karaoke. Hermione smiles as the girls dance along to Beyonce's 'Single Ladies' — Lavender's enjoyment looks genuine, and it eases some of her dormant guilt for being with Ron.

Lavender and Demelza's voices grow quieter as Ron and Hermione approach the other side of the club, where the lights are darker, and a thick crowd is growing on a dance floor, bouncing to the music produced by an eccentrically-dressed DJ.

"Come and dance?" asks Ron, raising an eyebrow at her.

"In front of everyone? Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asks, but reaches for his outstretched hand anyway.

"The best idea," he says, tugging her toward the middle of the dance floor, where they'll be obscured from view. "It's just a dance. It's not like I'm asking for a snog." His voice lowers as he pulls her body close to his, and Hermione senses a touch of irony in his response. In a way, it sounds like he is asking for a snog.

"So as long as we don't snog, this is perfectly innocent?" To test the waters, she shifts closer, letting her lips brush against his neck as she speaks. His resulting shiver makes her smile.

"No, I guess not," he says. "But only because I won't be able to keep my hands off of you." As if to prove his point, his hands shift to her lower back, dangerously close to non-innocent territory.

"You're insatiable."

"I know."

Even though the music is quick and upbeat, Ron and Hermione remain intertwined on the dance floor, swaying slowly, almost daring each other not to kiss. Hermione's earlier anxiety about interacting with Ron while sober seems so far away — being with him feels natural, as if they've been together forever. It doesn't make sense; her feelings are too advanced, considering she barely knows him.

She thinks back to her very first sober interaction with him. She had just broken up with Viktor a few months prior, and her self-confidence was at an all-time low. When they met for coffee back in England to go over logistics for this trip, her immediate reaction was to push him away, and it was no surprise that she left with a negative impression. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way. That day, Hermione watched everything he did and picked apart everything he said, attempting to convince herself that he was insufferable because then it wouldn't matter if he thought the same thing about her.

From the beginning, she tried to sabotage this. It makes sense — in relationships, she has to weigh the benefit of even trying. She hates failing, and love isn't like academia, which comes easily to Hermione. If she needs better exam scores, she can work harder, practice more, and simply try again. But personal pursuits are different. She learned the hard way that second chances are rare, and first impressions are everything. People are unpredictable, and failure is personal. It's not like studying harder will make someone love her.

Maybe that's why she looks for the worst in people — because that's what she decides to show them first. If she doesn't try to attract a man, it won't hurt when she winds up alone. She can blame it on her lack of effort, rather than her personality, her looks, or anything else on her laundry list of personal shortcomings.

Just as tears sting her eyes, Ron's arms wrap more tightly around her body, and his lips press against her forehead. His embrace feels secure, protective, even loving. Her heart fills for him, and she's finally fully aware of how deep her emotions run. Somewhere in the mess of the last few days, her defenses melted away, and she fell hard for this man. Despite her efforts to push him away, she wound up married to him.

She's always had a lot of questions about love; how long does it take? What does it look like? Is it a noun or a verb, something she's supposed to feel, or just do? Maybe it's more simple than that. At the moment, all she knows is that if things fell apart now, she'd be devastated, and she'd kick herself for not trying harder. She can't imagine not trying at all.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

She winces at his question.

Ron pulls away to turn her face toward his. A look of concern crosses his eyes as he wipes a loose tear from her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Hermione nods and averts her eyes.

"I don't believe you," he says. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" His voice is calm and unwavering.

"Yeah, I know." Her grip around his neck loosens so her arms hang comfortably. She wants to see his full face.

"So, what's on your mind?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, "Wifey?"

And there it is again — a swarm of butterflies unleash in her stomach at his playful words, his goofy smile, and the genuine tender expression on his face.

Hermione's always been the analytical type, never doing anything without thinking through the consequences, or giving emotions more mind than logic. But this week has offered a reprieve from her cautious, methodical side. It would be easy to convince herself that Vegas-Hermione isn't really her, but that wouldn't feel honest. In Vegas, she's more honest than she's ever been.

She meets Ron's curious gaze with confidence. London-Hermione would probably run away right now, not daring to speak what's on her mind, instead choosing to sabotage it all. But, London-Hermione probably isn't qualified to give relationship advice.

And deep down, she knows how she feels about this man, even though the truth is completely insane. But so is marrying someone she just met, and that ship has already sailed. Now she has an opportunity to let him in fully; if she wants to.

Her heart is telling her to take a giant leap and go for it, but her mind…

Well, her mind is still in London.

"I'm probably mental for saying this," she begins, her voice soft and careful, "but I think I'm falling in love with you."

As soon as the words slip out, her heart starts pounding in her chest. She averts her eyes, unwilling to watch his reaction to her admission.

He doesn't respond right away, and every second that passes cuts like a dagger to her heart. What a stupid thing to say, she thinks, panicking. They've barely been together for twenty-four hours, and she's probably freaked him out.

Ron squeezes her arm, encouraging her to look him in the eye. She meets his ocean eyes with trepidation, and isn't sure how to feel when his ears are fiery red, and his expression is one of pure shock. He looks like a frozen computer, unable to process her confession.

Fuck. Her palms break out in sweat, her eyes well with tears, and her stomach sinks. She should have kept her mouth shut.

But then he beams at her. "Well, Hermione, you might be falling in love, but I jumped. Flung myself off that cliff. So, I guess that makes us both mental."

She has no words, but relief sweeps over her body, and she blinks the tears from her eyes. Ron pulls her into another embrace, and her head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and for the next few moments, they're the only people in the room.

Did they really just say that to each other?

"Are you serious?" she asks, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Yes. I'm serious."

She smiles from both elation, and the fact that they're definitely, completely mental. Who brings up love so soon? It's Barmy. Insane. Crazy.

But it's also Las Vegas, and if there's something Hermione's learned from her time in this town, it's that life is better with a little bit of crazy.

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[enchanted-seokjin]

The 1; kim seokjin.

↬ summary: Y/N meets Jin after six months following their break-up.

↬ genre: one shot

↬ word count: 2.6k

↬ warnings: very slightly smut insinuation

↬ note: inspired by the 1 by taylor swift

I hold my breath when I see him walk through the door. He smiles widely at my friend and hands her over the gift which stands out from every other I’ve seen so far. And I’ve seen them all, for I’ve been here even before people arrived.

My friend wanted me to help her with the last details, setting the table, making sure everything looked neat and smell good. It was a façade. I realized once I crossed that same goddamn door and saw that my friend had opened a bottle of wine and served two glasses. That could only mean that it was a setup. I didn’t say anything, though. I was reminded that it was her birthday and I had to put up with any crazy idea she had in mind.

Many thoughts crushed my brain. Was she going to cancel the party? Was she going to ask me to tell one of the people she’d invited that the party wasn’t going to happen after all? 

I laugh as I remember how naïve I must’ve looked caressing the cat while my friend told me that she had invited Jin.

I didn’t get mad, but I was indeed shocked. I knew they got along well but I wasn’t aware that they were that close. For a moment, I thought she was going to confess that they were dating and my heart sunk just by the thought of it. When I asked her directly if they were more than friends, she looked at me confused and then disgusted. She assured me that Jin was her friend and nothing would ever change that. She was sorry for not letting me know earlier but it was kind of a last-minute invitation since she wasn’t sure how I would feel. She also said, “I understand if you want to leave.”

I couldn’t leave.

Now I wish I had.

My friend looks at the present, surprised by the presentation. It’s a tiny box, wrap in an elegant white paper with a red ribbon. I try not to smile but I fail and I look down at the cat moving between my legs and I’m thankful I’ve found this empty couch with no one around to bother me as a hang onto the glass of wine as if my life depends on it.

Jin has always had a good eye for details and I know that my friend appreciates it. I know I did. I know anyone would. 

When I look back up, I see Jin greeting a few of the people who are standing close to the door. He’s wearing black jeans and a dark shirt tucked inside his jeans which accentuates his waist. He looks stunning, smiling cordially, and having chit-chats with strangers. He’s always been good at that, too. The first time he invited me to an event I was nervous. I hate crowded places so I tried to turn him down but he assured me that everything would be okay and I believed him. He was right. He made me feel comfortable and included. He showed me a side of me I had never seen, one that glowed every time I stood next to him, talking to strangers and making new friends.

None of the people I’ve met during those events are my friends now.

As Jin moves, I want to get up, take the cat and fly upstairs but instead, I stay where I am because, at least, the floor isn’t quicksand here.

He’s late to the party, nevertheless. I noticed that as I was drinking my third glass of wine, thinking about how I should react once I see him after six months following our break-up. He’s never late. He’s always early. If he had a meeting at the dentist, he’d be there twenty minutes earlier. He doesn’t mind waiting but hates the idea of making other waits.

I guess he has changed.

Our eyes meet and I can feel my whole body turned numb as Jin gives me a tiny smile. A shy smile. The kind of smile which has always made my heart flutter, now makes me want to disappear.

I want him to keep chit-chatting with the blonde guy but I know he’s apologizing when he interrupts him to walk towards me. 

I forget how to breathe.

“Hey,” he says, smiling. His hands inside his pockets. He looks stunning under the white artificial light which makes his black hair shine. “New friend?” he asks, nodding towards the cat, now sitting next to my legs.

“She’s protecting me,” I reply, gazing at the cat as well. I don’t know if I’m holding the glass properly so I lower it to the armchair. I’m not leaving it at the little table. I’m afraid the waiter may come and take it away--- I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands either. I don’t have pockets as Jin does. I wish I hadn’t worn this stupid black dress.

I wish I was at home.

“From whom?” Jin asks.

I smile without saying anything. I don’t know what to answer. This situation is way too awkward for me.

“You’re late,” I point out instead and I wish I hadn’t. Though, Jin doesn’t seem to mind it. He stares at the window. A black cloudy sky displays through the lime curtains.

“I had to take care of a few things,” he replies, calmly and I wonder if he’s feeling his world crashing as mine is because I can sense everything coming down to pieces with him so close to me and I want it to stop.

I sigh and, this time, I gather the strength to put the glass on the table. I wait for the waiter to come and get it as a mouse waiting for a piece of cheese to drop. He doesn’t.

It’s time for me to go home.

“Well…” I begin as I get up. The house spins around for a second but I manage to keep control. Jin stares at me intently and I ignore his gaze. Instead, I focus on the cat, which meows and leaves. I’m completely alone with Jin. Great. “I hope you have fun,” I smile. I hope it sounds genuine. 

“Are you leaving?” he inquires, confused.

“Yeah, I have an appointment tomorrow,” I explain. It’s a lie, so I don’t get into any detail. I know enough not to reveal too much information when you’re lying, especially when you’re drunk. I pass past Jin, hoping he’d let me go but he follows me.

“Let me take you home,” he whispers as I take my black coat. 

“No,” I simply say.

I put it on and hear him sigh with impatience. Even though I’m not looking, I know he’s scratching his ear.

“My car’s right outside. I’ll take you home and then I’ll come back,” he begs. I turn to look at him. I’ve my bag between my hands, clutching onto it as hard as I was clutching on the glass of wine.

I smile ironically. Does he think I’m preoccupied he might miss this party?

“No, Jin,” I argue, slowly. “I’m good.”

I’m not getting into that hell of a car with you. I’m drunk, not stupid, I want to add. However, I choose silence and aim to walk towards the door when Jin steps in the way.

“Your house is not far,” he protests. “Let me walk you, then. It’s late.”

It’s true. It is late. The plan wasn’t for me to leave the party, I was supposed to help my friend clean up the mess afterward and stay overnight, and I was excited to have a girl’s night. I hadn’t had one in such a long time; I yearned for a little bit of fun. Yet, seeing Jin changed everything. 

“Fine,” I give up. I also know that he won’t let this go. If I leave without saying a word, he’d still follow me so it’s better this way.

“Great,” he smiles. “Are you going to say goodbye?”

I deny, reaching the door. As much as I love my friend, if I see her now and get the chance to say a word to her, it would be something far from “Happy birthday! I love you,” so I’d rather leave quietly.

Outside, the air is cold. I listen to the door close behind me and Jin approaching me as I start walking in the right direction.

“Aren’t you cold?” I ask. The answer is obvious; I can see Jin shrugged with his hands inside his pockets. He’s lucky there’s isn’t any wind. “Didn’t you bring a jacket?”

“No,” he barely looks at me so I stare at the empty street. “It was kind of a last-minute thing, coming here. I forgot to bring a jacket.”

“That present didn’t look like a last-minute thing,” I point out before I can stop myself and I hate how bitter my words sound.

“It wasn’t,” Jin answers, ignoring the bitterness. “I was going to give her the present even if I didn’t come tonight.”

“Of course you were,” I agree. “You’ve always been meticulous over important dates,” These words shouldn’t be charged with resentment but they are.

Jin takes a deep breath and I gaze at him. Our eyes meet for a second and I feel I’m about to break so I turn my head straight, though I can feel his piercing eyes on me.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to come because I knew you were going to be here,” he explains with a little bit of frustration. My heart sinks but I ignore it.

“For what’s worth, I didn’t know you were coming until today.”

He stays silent for a second.

“I should’ve told you.”

“I blocked your number, remember?”

Jin quiets again. This time, it feels like an eternity. Then, his voice echoes in my brain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” he goes on and I lower my head, closing my eyes for a second as his sincerity burns inside my chest. 

“Don’t say that,” I beg.

Jin takes a deep breath.

“I’ve been wondering about you, you know?” he says. And I want him to stop but I don’t say anything because my heart’s in half and I forget how to speak. “What you’ve been doing… If life’s been treating you good…”

I laugh and look at the other side. Job wise? I’m good. Study wise? Getting there. Love wise? Still can’t get over him. I was at the bus stop last week and my soul left my body for an instant when I thought the man driving a black Mercedes was him.

“I’m good,” I answer. “I’ve been focusing on my studies.” 

“Trying to get into Art School?”

I smile as memories come flashing back.

“They say it’s never too late,” I look at him with a smile and he smiles back. We both know it was he who convinced me of that. “Don’t know if I’ll get in, though.”

“You’re really talented, Y/N,” he says with all seriousness. It’s always been like that when it came to my dreams. “Don’t throw yourself under the bus. You have a bright future ahead of you.”

I did have one. Once. With you.

“Thanks,” It takes me a few seconds to gather the strength to keep talking. “What about you?”

“Same old, same old,” he replies without looking at me. “Still working.”

“That’s good,” I babble as our eyes meet again and he flashes a tender smile. My heart sinks again and I feel tears burning behind my eyes. “Love wise?” I ask and look away. I’m not sure how I’ve mustered the strength to ask this. It’s as if someone else has taken control over me… Or something…

Jin doesn’t reply right away and I ignore the urge to start running because if I did, I don’t know if my legs would be strong enough to support me.

“Tried online dating,” he responds. “But it wasn’t for me,” he continues and I know he means it as a funny anecdote but it doesn’t sound like that. The air has shifted and I can feel the weight of these past six months over my shoulders. “You?”

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. 

It’s funny to hear that he’s been trying to move on while I’m still trying to get used to waking up alone every morning.

Jin sighs again and scratches his nose. I know he’s about to say something serious even before he opens his mouth.

“I did love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Of all the things I was expecting to hear from him, this was at the bottom of the list.

I shake my head as I bite the inside of my cheek. It’s all too real. It’s all too raw. I can’t take this, but Jin doesn’t take into account my feelings.

“After we broke up,” he mumbles as if he’s measuring his words. And I know for sure that he is. Jin’s too afraid to break me. “I’ve made up scenarios in my mind where everything worked out. I think it could’ve if we’d tried.”

I let out a weak laugh because it’s better than crying.

“I didn’t know you wanted to try.”

“I wanted everything that had to do with you.”

I smile, trying to hide my sadness. Suddenly, the shakiness in my hands is gone.

“You should’ve shown it.”

Jin looks down for a moment, and I know he’s regretting his decisions.

“We were something, don’t you think so?”

I nod. Yes, we were. All our friends and family were so sure we were going to end up together for the rest of our lives. I thought so, too. I thought Jin was the one. My family thought Jin was the one. I guess it would’ve been fun, to grow old together. To keep learning from each other until we’ve memorized every aspect of our personality, every inch of our bodies.

I see my house in the corner and we slow down our pace. Maybe it’s our subconscious working for us.

“Yeah,” I agree.

Jin lowers his head again.

“I’m seeing someone,” he lets out carefully.

I don’t react. There’s nothing else he can break in me.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“You’ll find someone, too.”

I guess I will. Someday.

I picture Jin with this new person, hanging out with his family. I picture them visiting Jin’s family every Sunday and Jin’s mom teaching them how to cook. That’s what I did every Sunday, at least. It was fun. Jin’s mom would end up amazed at how useless I was in the kitchen while Jin would assure me that I didn’t have to worry about anything because I had him.

We stop when we reach my house. He walks me to the porch and I turn to him. I open my mouth, ready to ask him if he believed that we would be together now if only one thing had been different… But I say nothing.

“Thank you, Jin,” I mutter instead.

“It was nice seeing you, Y/N,” he smiles but he doesn’t move.

I know that, in a different time, he’d come in with me, have a glass of wine. He would be telling bad jokes as alcohol starts to hit us while I fall in love with him as every second passes by. I wouldn’t wear this black dress for too long, he’d get rid of it as soon as he gets the chance and I’d enjoy each torturous moment unbuttoning his shirt.

“It was nice seeing you, too, Jin. Have fun at the party,” I state as I walk in because I should be the strong one; as I always have.

Still, tears fall in silence knowing that Jin is on the other side of the door and I will wake up alone tomorrow, again.

[patriciasage]

the tune of coffee

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairings: Joyce Byers / Jim “Chief” Hopper / Bob Newby

Summary: 

Bob hands Joyce her coffee and kisses her gently on the lips. She smiles.

Then Bob walks around the bed and hands Hopper the other mug. Before the police chief can figure out what to say, Bob leans down to kiss him as well.

[posted in full under the break, or you could read on AO3]

Hopper fights through quicksand into consciousness. His thoughts are sluggish, and his mouth is dry. Slowly, he becomes aware of his body. There’s sun warming the back of his head and the sheets are soft. Not his place. He hears soft snoring behind him. Not alone.

The first sight that greets his eyes is Darth Vader. A Star Wars poster hangs above the dresser. There’s a ‘fun fact’ daily calendar on the bedside table. There’s faint clattering in the kitchen and a low voice humming. He knows where he is.

Hopper is grateful for his police training when he does not immediately leap out of the bed and wake the person sleeping behind him. Instead, he lays still and tries to think of an escape route.

His bleary headache flares as he slowly rolls over to face the ceiling. His arm touches the other person’s back. Joyce doesn’t stir. Hopper can’t help but smile a little as she continues to snore quietly. Her dark hair rests on the white pillowcase like ink.

Moving under the sheets makes Hopper acutely aware of his nakedness. Joyce seems to have put on pajamas before sleeping, but he had not. He rubs his free hand over his eyes as hazy memories of last night arrive. He chuckles quietly and then looks for his pants.

He expects them to be crumpled on the floor but instead he sees his clothes folded on a stool across the room, his hat perched on top. He carefully sits up.

Joyce wakes at the movement with a little snort. She mumbles a question and turns to face him at the same time that the bedroom door opens.

“Oh, wonderful, you’re awake,” Bob says. He enters the room with a radiant smile, holding a steaming cup of coffee in each hand.

Joyce pushes herself up to rest against the headboard while Hopper remains frozen. She reaches out for the coffee with an insistent groan. “How are you so –” She gestures to Bob’s general state. Bob chuckles.

“I didn’t have nearly as much as you two wild things. I get dizzy after a few drinks.”

Bob hands Joyce her coffee and kisses her gently on the lips. She smiles.

Then Bob walks around the bed and hands Hopper the other mug. Before the police chief can figure out what to say, Bob leans down to kiss him as well. The press of his lips sends flashes of memories behind his eyes of Bob’s soft body beneath him and Joyce’s breath in his ear. His skin feels cold when Bob removes his hand from Hopper’s bare chest.

“I made pancakes, come and get ‘em!” he says jovially and leaves the door open when he exits the room.

Joyce offers her coffee mug and Hopper automatically touches them together in a toast. She follows her boyfriend out into the kitchen. Music from the radio travels down the hallway and Hopper assumes they’re dancing from the way they laugh.  

Breakfast isn’t awkward, to Hopper’s surprise. He leaves the Byers-Newby house with his stomach full of food and his head full of thoughts.

*****

The next time they hook up, they’re much more sober.

The kids are out, sleeping over in a tent in the Wheeler’s backyard. Hopper is flipping through channels trying to find a movie to watch. He considers some of El’s favourite programs, but it wouldn’t feel right to watch without her.  Hopper is no longer used to being alone. He tries not to consider how it will feel when she grows up and moves out.

His phone rings.

“Can we come over?” Joyce asks.

He doesn’t think before answering. “Sure.”

Hopper doesn’t have wine at his place, so he offers Joyce and Bob a beer. They get through about half of their drinks, chatting about the kids and town gossip. Then Joyce climbs into his lap and Bob walks around the couch to rub his shoulders.

This time is infinitely better without whisky coursing through his system. They’re more precise, better at communicating, more responsive. Hopper has slept with women and men in the past, but never both at once. And never with people who somehow manage to make him laugh during sex without ruining the mood. It’s exhilarating and satiating in a way he’s never experienced. It feels right.

*****

They begin to go on dates, but it takes Hopper a while to realize this.

The three of them would often spend time together as friends and as parents of kids who are pretty much inseparable. But since they’ve started sleeping together it’s been different. Joyce sneaks fries from his plate and Bob puts his hand on Hopper’s thigh when he tells him stories.

Often, Joyce and Bob invite him back to their house afterward. Sometimes they mess around. Other times, Joyce and Hopper agree to let Bob kick their asses at his brain teaser games and Hopper leaves with a kiss for each of them.

Any time he thinks to define it, he pushes the thought away. It doesn’t matter. They’re adults. They’re having fun.

*****

Everything falls apart when Mike Wheeler sees something he shouldn’t have seen.

“Cheating!” El says forcefully, slamming the front door. Hopper looks up from the stove.

“What now?”

She stomps up to him, brow furrowed. “You are cheating.”

The hamburgers are done frying. He takes them off the burner. “It’s kind of hard to cheat at scrabble, kid, and you kicked my ass, anyway –”

“No, not games cheating. Relationship cheating. Mike told me.”

Hopper sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He had not expected to have this conversation with his daughter today. “You can’t cheat if you’re not in a relationship. And why does Mike have somethin’ to say about me, anyway?”

“He saw you kissing Mrs. Byers!”

Hopper’s hands still in the middle of putting hamburger patties into buns. He takes a breath. “I don’t know what Mike thought he saw – hey!” El pokes his arm forcefully. He doesn’t need her to speak to know what she’s going to say. He sees it in her eyes. Friends don’t lie.

“Look, kid. It’s complicated. Adult stuff.” Her mouth tightens and he puts up a hand. “Which I will explain to you in the amount of detail you need to know. Just not now, alright? Can we eat first?”

She looks over at the hamburgers, then nods. They have their meal in silence.

El finishes eating before him. She pushes her plate away and stares expectantly. Hopper rolls his eyes and wipes his mouth, chewing. “Okay. So what, exactly, did Mike tell you about…cheating?”

“When a person is in a romantic relationship with someone and then kisses someone else.”

“I mean, sure, that’s usually the gist of it. But he’s missing a key detail. Cheating is a secret that those people keep from the other person.”

She shrugs. “Okay. It’s secret. And it’s bad.”

“You’re right. But.” He sighs. “Listen, me kissing Joyce is not cheating because it’s not a secret to Bob. He is okay with it. So, it’s not bad.”

El looks confused. Hopper wishes this conversation wasn’t happening. “Adult relationships are complicated –” He’s saved by the telephone ringing. He gets up from the table gratefully.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Hop. It’s Joyce.”

“Hey.”

“So…Will told me that Mike saw us kiss.”

Hopper rolls his eyes. Great, all of the kids know.

“Yeah, I’ve got a similar situation happenin’ over here.”

“I- Look, can we meet up tonight and talk? The three of us?”

Hopper glances over at El, who looks like she’s trying to solve a very difficult math problem. “Yeah. Let’s clear things up before I confuse my daughter any more than I already have.”

*****

Hopper is talking before he sits down on the porch steps. “Alright, so, we tell them that it was a mistake. Maybe that you just wanted to see what it was like to kiss me and Bob gave you permission. One kiss. That’s it. A mistake. I know it’s still a little unconventional, but –”

Bob interrupts him. “But it’s not a mistake.”

“What?” Hopper looks over at the two of them. Their expressions are illuminated by the porch light, Joyce nervous and Bob resolute. “I mean, of course it wasn’t a mistake. It was fun. But that’s probably our best explanation.”

Joyce takes Bob’s hand and offers, “What if we tell them the truth?”

“The truth?”

“That we’re dating.”

“We are?”

There’s nothing but hope emanating from Joyce and Bob. Hopper feels something warm in his chest at the thought. His brain tries to push it down. It fails.

“Fuck,” Hopper says, “This is going to be front page news.”

*****

Hawkins already thought that they were a little strange. You can’t go through multiple alien attacks without appearing a little suspicious. Seeing the three of them publicly dating is prime gossip for a few months, but eventually it gets boring to most people. It’s just Joyce Byers, Bob Newby, and Jim Hopper spending a lot of time together. It takes Hopper’s coworkers much longer to stop teasing him.

The kids eventually get used to it, too. El and Will begin to act like siblings. Jonathan overcomes his embarrassment when he realizes how happy his mom is.

They’ve always been a bit of an unconventional family.

[suca-loca]

slip of the tongue.

Pairing: Anxceit (Virgil/Janus)

Tags: Sympathetic!Janus, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It was supposed to be a quick phone call. They found out Patton got a promotion - from a Facebook post of all things - so of course, they called to congratulate him. Had Damien known he’d end the call with “See you at Christmas, Dad” he would have just congratulated him in the comments.

Author’s Note: I completed this a week before Deceit’s name was revealed so... oops. That’s why he’s named Damien in this fic. Also, the Eleanor and Park book is kinda problematic. The quote I reference here really touched me during a hard time which is why I used it, although I do not recommend reading it because the representation is b l e g h .

————

“Holy shit.”

Damien hides his face in his hands.

“Holy. Shit.”

A sound eerily similar to that of a dying bear leaves Damien’s mouth.

Virgil laughs. He doesn’t even try to hide it. He explodes like a shaken Coca Cola can until he’s nothing but a mess of overflowing tears and fizzling out snorts.

Beside him on the couch, Damien grabs one of the pillows. “Oh, how I adore seeing you enjoy yourself over me acting like a fool,” he grumbles as he smacks it over Virgil’s head. “It really shows how great of a boyfriend you are.”

Virgil, unable to speak - because he’s currently bent over, clutching at his sides - responds with two middle fingers.

Damien reaches for the last remaining couch pillow.

“No!” Virgil somehow wheezes out, the terror in his voice terribly contrasting against the grin on his face. “I’ll stop! I’ll stop!”

Damien doesn’t believe him. He throws it without mercy.

He was right to see through Virgil’s lie because two minutes pass before Virgil finally gets it out of his system. All the while Damien waits at the opposite end of the couch, watching with a pout as his boyfriend begins to crawl towards him.

“That-“ Virgil wipes away one last tear from his eye - “was beautiful. Truly the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life. I would love to see it on the big screen, looping for ten hours.”

Damien gives him a (totally real) disgusted look as a kiss is pressed against his cheek. “You are insufferable.”

“Is that why you made my pancakes this morning in the shape of hearts?”

“You’re totally right! Next time I won’t go through the trouble of making the pancakes into different shapes. I’ll just poison them.”

Virgil chuckles.

“Don’t you start again!” Damien groans, looking like he wants the couch to become quicksand and swallow him up. “I’ll get up and grab the pillows from the floor. Watch me.”

“Sorry,” Virgil says in a tone that is definitely not at all sorry. “It’s just...You just called my dad, Dad. That’s, like, better than when you said you loved me for the first time.”

It was supposed to be a quick phone call. They found out Patton got a promotion - from a Facebook post of all things - so of course, they called to congratulate him. Had Damien known he’d end the call with “See you at Christmas, Dad” he would have just congratulated him in the comments.

Damien watches in horror as he sees Virgil’s shoulders begin to shake as the memory comes back to him.

“It wasn’t a slip of the tongue if you consider the circumstances!” He cries out, desperately not wanting to sit through another one of Virgil’s cackling.

He only realizes what he said when Virgil’s dimples disappear and are replaced with a curious look.

“Oh?” Virgil coos, smirking in the same way that made Damien fall in love with him all those years ago. “Care to explain what these circumstances are, D?”

Damien fiddles with the hem of his pajama shirt. He’s blushing.

“Well,” he inhales sharply, suddenly acting so small and nervous in a way Virgil has never seen from him in the four years they’ve known each other. “I should get used to calling him dad since he’ll become my father-in-law.”

Virgil stills. “What?”

Deceit stands up, only to then drop to one knee.

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to inhale sharply.

“Virgil Hart,” Damien looks up at him with clear adoration and a voice oozing with love from just those two words, “Years ago, for some odd - and very stupid - reason you risked sitting in a jail cell for a guy you didn’t know.”

Virgil blushes, the day they met coming back to him in pieces. He remembers sneaking out of his college dorm room past curfew to join a protest. Remembers how the protest turned south as sirens could be heard ten blocks down. Remembers the adrenaline that passed through him as he chucked an egg at one of the cops who was in the middle of arresting some guy. Remembers the adrenaline being replaced with fear as the cop charged at him, only to then be pulled down the street by the same man he rescued.

Remembers the two of them hiding in a thrift shop that sold dildos and smelled too much like weed. Remembers learning the man’s name was Damien from the slip of paper handed to him with a phone number. Remembers getting caught sneaking back into his dorm room and not even caring as the principal shouted at him because he was too busy thinking about what a great runner Damien was. He also remembers thinking how great it was to run behind Damien.

“And now,” Damien says as he presses a kiss against Virgil’s hand, “because of your lack of control that day, we sit here in this apartment that we share. With plates still in the sink that is your turn to wash, with two cats I gifted Patton curled up on our beds because you never told me he was allergic and with the insides of my favorite sweaters smudged with black lipstick because no matter where I hide them you always find them,

But, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Which I now realize, given my moral compass, doesn’t say much, so let me rephrase; I wouldn’t change it even if it meant I had to delete all my eat the rich tweets. I didn’t realize it then, but I fell in love with you the moment I heard that egg crack against the cop's helmet. I only continued to fall more in love with you as you sent me memes past midnight and the way you scrunch up your face every time someone admits to never reading one of Edgar Allan Poe’s work. You are an inspiration to me and I hope that you remain only my inspiration. Which is why, Virgil Hart, I ask you today...”

Damien slips out a ring. It’s all black, except for the purple jewel at the center, decorated with petals curling to where the diamond sits.

“Will you marry me?”

Virgil blinks.

“There’s cheeto dust on the hoodie I’m wearing.”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “Excellent observation skills.”

“Our cats’ assholes combined are in a better state than my hair right now,” Virgil continues.

“Thank you for the mental image.”

“I gained ten pounds this week!”

“I was wondering why our cuddling sessions felt better.”

“I’m pretty sure my breath smells like Remus’ room.”

“I’m well aware. I kissed you good morning, remember?”

“Then why the fuck do you still have the ring out?!” Virgil huffs, pulling his hands away. He gestures to himself. “Do I look like a picture-worthy fiancé?”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is… I should propose after you’ve taken a shower?”

“No!”

Virgil yanks his hands away. He does it so hard Damien is surprised the other doesn’t send him flying backwards. His temper flares and his mouth snaps open to say something snarky, but it shuts when his eyes fall on the emo’s face.

Sad isn’t the right word to use. It’s devastation. Even with Virgil burying his face against the knees hugged to his chest Damien can see how hard his lips wobble and the way his eyes blink rapidly against the incoming of tears.

“Why can’t you see I’m not worthy to be a fiancé?” He croaks, voice going weaker towards the end. “Much less yours?”

Damien wastes no time cradling Virgil’s face in his hands. He rubs the pad of his thumb against Virgil’s left cheek, knowing it’ll help calm him down.

“Eleanor was right,” he begins, voice softer than the most expensive silk money could buy. “She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice. It was supposed to make you feel something.”

Virgil’s breath hitches. “Eleanor and Park, chapter 28, page 165. My favorite quote.”

Damien clicks his tongue. “And yet the message escapes you. You’re not stupid, mi vida. So stop acting like it. You’re too good to fall for society's expectations of beauty.”

Virgil looks ready to interject, but Damien keeps going.

“When I bought this ring it wasn’t because I thought every angle was your best angle. It wasn’t because you lack fewer fat rolls than other people. It was because of how you showed up at my door with my favorite movie and snacks after I got a bad grade on an exam. It’s because of how you headbang and jump around the living room every time I put The Crow soundtrack on when we clean.”

Damien brushes Virgil’s bangs to the side. He presses a kiss against his boyfriend’s forehead. Virgil is quiet through all of this.

“And most importantly, it’s because whenever I picture myself happy it’s with you.”

A sob breaks through the silence. Tears, big fat crocodile ones, pour down Virgil’s face. For a second Damien thinks he said something wrong, but then Virgil swoops down to capture his lips in a kiss.

There’s nothing soft about it. Not even three seconds in and Virgil’s hand tugs at his long locks, making Damien see stars. Somehow he’s able to break through the daze and wrap his arms around Virgil’s back, pulling him close until there’s no space between them.

Besides the occasional growl and groan, there’s just the sound of their heavy breathing whenever they disconnect for a few seconds and then continue where they left off. Virgil plays dirty by wrapping his legs around the other’s waist, so Damien retaliates by biting at his lips.

When they break apart, eyes half-lidded and hands still wandering, they smile at one another.

“Brilliant idea,” Damien breaks the silence first, voice rough like sandpaper. “Kissing me while you’re crying. Now all I can taste is salt - ow!”

Damien rubs the spot where Virgil threw a pillow at him. All the while Virgil sticks out the same tongue just shoved down his throat a second ago.

“Well played,” Damien grumbles.

Virgil shrugs. “It was either the pillow or not saying yes.”

“Truly, what a difficult decision. Me versus your fragile pride.”

“Shut up and give me the ring before I hit you twice.”

Damien rolls his eyes, but there’s fondness behind them as he slips the ring on. All the while Virgil is smiling so wide and so hard he doesn’t know how his face doesn’t crack from the pressure.

Virgil knows for a fact that his eyes are puffy, that his nose is running and that his face is the same color as a cherry. But he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is the man in front of him, with his beautiful mind and a stunning smile currently aimed (and from now on always will be) only at him.

“I love you.”

Damien doesn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”

Damien watches with love in his eyes as Virgil’s eyes crinkle around the corners.

He then watches with confusion as Virgil pulls out his phone.

“Oh no,” Damien groans, “don’t tell me you’re going to tell your Tumblr followers the news first.”

“First off, fuck you. You’re just sour over the fact that Remus was the first person I told about my Tumblr account. Secondly,” Virgil puts the phone to his ear. “No, I’m not.”

The person on the other end of the line picks up on the first ring.

“Kiddo, I was hoping you’d call back! Tell Damien I don’t mind what he said. I take it as a compliment, truly!”

Virgil smiles. “I’ll do you one better. How about I give you the phone to talk to him yourself?”

He hands the phone over.

Damien, once again, doesn’t hesitate.

“Good morning, father-in-law.”

[oodlesofsnootles-main]

Another fluffy marshmallow Obitine fic:

THANKFUL

Obi-Wan stumbled out of the collapsing cave with a cloud of debris swirling around him. Another close call.

Thank the stars, Satine released the breath she was holding in. The fool.

The Jedi brushed off his sleeves, glancing back at the destruction behind him. “I thought I told you to run a safe distance away from here. You’re practically spectating.”

“You tell me a lot of things,” she waved her hand dismissively, “but it doesn’t mean I have to listen to them, Padawan Kenobi.”

“It was not a suggestion, Duchess. It was for your safety.” He shook more dirt and dust from his robe.

“If you hadn’t insisted on taking this short cut in the first place, this would not have happened.”

“It was a short cut until it caved in,” Obi-Wan countered defensively. “You’re without a scratch, are you not?”

“Thankfully, your antics haven’t scarred me yet. But I’m beginning to think you enjoy these...heroics.”

He leaned in closer, “I enjoy us not getting crushed to death.”

“Crushed to death!” Satine laughed. “So dramatic!” She flicked his braid behind his shoulder. “It was not that serious.”

“It was, and you should be thankful I managed to get you out of there!”

Their quarrel stirred her heart. They always did. She might not get another chance at this, especially if he continued to be a reckless fool. She grabbed his face and bestowed a lengthy, desperate kiss. If it was possible to taste like surprise, he would have. She hoped she didn’t taste like regret.

The duchess pulled away to find the recipient of her impulsive affection flushed and confused. Obi-Wan hadn’t protested. He hadn’t returned it, either. She was quite sure no one had ever kissed this boy before; perhaps he didn’t know how to reciprocate. Or, she feared, he had no desire to.

“W-what was...why did you do that?” Obi-Wan stammered. He backed away slowly, as if she might pounce again.

It was not the reaction she had hoped for, so she answered with an impromptu lie. “It’s a....Mandalorian custom, a gesture of appreciation.”

“Mandalorians show gratitude with their tongues, Satine?!”

“You seem upset, so I guess I won’t be thanking you again. If it was that terrible to endure-”

“Did I say it was?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“Don’t worry, I will stay far away from your mouth for the rest of this wretched ordeal!” She stomped away, fists clenched. Why did he have to make things so complicated? Could he not take a hint?

“Wait, Satine, wait! I didn’t mean to offend you,” he chased after, genuinely apologetic.

“Well, you have,” she shot back. “Just...forget about it.”

How could he? Obi-Wan was smitten by the duchess. ‘Smitten’ was probably not an approved Jedi sentiment, but the heart is not bound by rules.

Her explanation was obviously false, he figured, but why did she do it? She didn’t care for him like that, definitely not enough to warrant a kiss. Satine made fun of his hair constantly, started arguments over the smallest minutiae, and seemed to find pleasure in his irritation. Escaping danger was simple; figuring out Satine was not.

****

Obi-Wan’s disheveled appearance and Satine’s agitation hinted at another near catastrophe. Qui-Gon didn’t even bother to ask what had occurred.

“Did I not tell you to keep the duchess nearby? We are being hunted and you put her in danger once again.”

His apprentice winced, horrified at the accusation he would cause her harm. “Master, I would never-”

“It was all my idea,” Satine interrupted, ready to passionately defend him via deception. “I insisted, no, demanded, Obi-Wan bring me out there. Nothing dangerous occurred, but I do apologize. It was irresponsible. There is enough out there threatening our lives without these pointless risks.” She glanced over at her speechless protector, who appeared to be having an epiphany of some sort.

“Thank you for your honesty. Next time I hope you use better judgment.” The Jedi studied both of them. Liars. He had always assumed the duchess was too self-righteous to deceive. And Obi-Wan...something was clouding his mind. He would speak to his padawan later. But for now, there was a lead he must follow regarding their safety.

Now alone again, out of sight and sound of a suspicious Qui-Gon, the young Jedi took Satine’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Obi-Wan?” It was an unexpected action, quick, but her heart still skipped.

“Just following customs, duchess,” he winked, full of newfound boldness.

“Customs? What? Oh...I told you to forget about that.“

“You can tell me, but that doesn’t mean I’ll listen. I’m thanking you for taking the fall and not mentioning our misadventure.”

“I see…” Satine gave a coy smile, “I’ll admit, I’ve been rude for not offering my appreciation for the many, many times you have previously come to my rescue.”

“It’s not necessary. Unless you really want to, then I’ll accept.”

She kissed his cheek. “That’s for the first day we met, when our ship crashed.” She then punctuated every event from the last couple of months with another kiss: “The bombing...the bounty hunter...the other bounty hunters...the second bombing...the quicksand...that time we got lost….”

Obi-Wan pushed away all his conflicting emotions and waited for her to run out of rescues. He then leaned in and offered some more gratitude, trying to match the passion behind her earlier effort. It was not a particularly confident kiss, but with practice came great skill, he believed. I don’t know if this is wrong, or what will happen, but I’m going to focus on the present.

“What was that for?” she asked, dreamily.

“For sharing your, uh, tradition with me. I think it will be useful.”