limitlessinfinityeternity

[morethanwonderful]

ALSO while I'm losing my mind over the Note of Desolation page and how it lays out John's arc: look at this!

One fundamental underlying aspect of John is that I think he feels really lost when he's not given external purpose and doing Main Character Stuff. He seems to just kind of stall and wallow at home in his depression during the end credits and pre-prologue epilogues. He has a huge breakdown seemingly out of nowhere after two years of idling on the ship between worlds. And here, we see that's not just something that comes from the trauma of his first session of the Game.

To some extent, for the whole first twelve years of his life before sburb, John Egbert has felt like he's missing something.

There's two different ways that you can read this, and I think they work in tandem.

On one hand, there's the meta reading. John as a person was born to be The Main Character. Sburb's whole thing is meta narratives and turning its players into characters in a creation myth. John is the main character of his story. He's the first to boot up Sburb, the first to enter the medium, and the first to go god tier. He's the friendleader. He's the one that does his world's ectobiology. Of course, in the context of Sburb and its narrative, he always feels like something is missing from mundane life. He exists to play the Game and serve its story, and he's divorced from his purpose if he's not Being The Protagonist.

But at the same time, this also works really well as a mundane symptom of depression. For as long as he's existed and had the capacity to feel complex emotions, John has felt like something is missing from his life. The Game only works as a temporary distraction from this feeling. Sburb gives him urgent concrete goals to focus on, and it's hard to feel empty and listless when you're constantly in crisis mode trying to keep yourself, your friends, and your universe from dying. But running on adrenaline and living a task-driven life can't actually cure his depression, and in the quiet moments between sessions and after Game Over, he's left with that same feeling of something missing. Something empty.

Given all that, it's fitting that this emptiness is first raised as an issue when John looks in his mailbox and sees that Sburb isn't there. In line with the meta reading, it's impossible for him as an entity to feel complete when he's missing the Game because he's the main character. Not getting his hands on the physical game might not be the cause of his listlessness, but getting divorced from his protagonist purpose is. He's nothing without Sburb.

Yet, we're told Sburb isn't really the true cause. He feels desolate before the game, he feels desolate at points during the game, and he'll feel even more desolate after. He feels like his life is a trick played on him by some "unseen riddler," whatever thing that might complete him held constantly out of reach. Not having the game, be it the physical disc or the Game that gives him purpose as a god, is ultimately just one more frustration in a life full of the feeling of lack.

John's the Main Character and incomplete without his protagonist role to play, but he's also depressed. And in the end, even becoming a god, creating a universe, and fulfilling his glorious purpose can't fix the sense of lacking in his life.

It's a cruel trick—fulfilling the plot contrivance that helps bring about his sense of Absence in the first place cannot actually fill the hole or help him move forward. Not in any long-term sense.

[noroi1000]

„You promised me something”

Paring: Yandere wife reader x Gojo

Warnings: Mentions of death, murder. Knife play, marking, sexual context, lipstick play, rope bondage

Words: 2k

Summary: You were his wife. And he loved you. You hated it when another woman was next to him. He told you that if you promise him something, he will be yours forever.

Seeing your husband leaning over the desk writing instead of sitting in a chair while filling out documents made you very tempted to do something.

He was such a good husband. If there was only one chair, you sat there. Or you sat on his lap.

He did everything for you. Everything you asked him for.

He was there for you always and everywhere. At any time. He did whatever you wanted for you. And there was no way he would refuse you. Because you were his lovely wife.

And you also promised him something.

You closed the door after returning from the cafeteria to grab some leftover lunch.

Satoru quite likes this school food. Jujutsu high has a lot of money and doesn't skimp on food for the students.

And since it was almost evening, there was no one to disturb you. And you would rather finish boring paperwork here in your office than keep it at home and destroy your space with work.

They walked over to him, pressing your hips against his ass as you leaned down, laying on his back for a moment.

"Haha, If you want, we can rest for a while. Tired?” He chuckled, letting you stay like that for a moment before you pulled away, sitting in the chair next to him.

I put the containers of food on your desk. And he watched his fingers deftly hold the pen as he wrote something on the paper.

He wasn't careful because he didn't feel like doing paperwork in the evening.

And reading it later will be other people's problem. He wrote it. But who will read it with such careless words? They will decipher it. Not him. He did his job.

"I am not tired. I'm just bored here. I'd really like to get out of here somewhere else now." You said, resting your forehead against his side.

"Hmm... I think I heard such a sentence for the second time today..." he said calmly as he continued writing.

"Second time?" You asked, your gaze becoming more intense as you looked at the long, dexterous fingers.

"Is that what you said?" he asked, putting a period after the last word of the sentence he wrote down.

"Isn't this the woman you talked to on our mission? She was close-."  You dug your nails into the wood of the desk.

And he saw a sudden change in the aura.

He turned to you and placed both hands on the armrests of your swivel chair.

"Honey, you promised me something, remember?" He said calmly.

You reached for his blindfold and took it off, placing it on the desk as you stared into his eyes.

Your eyes were suddenly removed from his as you looked down at his hand, staring at the wedding ring on his finger.

Oh yes... He's yours...

Forever Yours...

He has always and forever been and will be yours. He will do anything for you and will love you endlessly.

If you promise him something.

That you will never kill someone out of jealousy for them...

Your eyes met his again and you smiled slightly, placing your hand on his cheek.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry." you muttered sincerely.

Your past is dark to say the least.

You loved him for so many years. He loved you too.

However, instead of believing that he would always be with you, you began to become jealous of every interaction he had with any woman.

You only trusted three women. Shoko, Utahime and Mei Mei. Because you know they would never be with your Satoru.

There is also Miwa who admires your husband very much. But she is a child. This is forgivable. And you also never thought of Maki or Nobara in a way that they might look at him.

And any other woman could have her eyes torn out for looking at him.

You've had a few dead bodies on your hands these past few years. Women who even tried to flirt with your Satoru. The ones that wanted to seduce him.

One of them, who behaved like a whore, lost her tongue and teeth trying to get into his pants. You cut straight with your sword, regardless of the fact that she had clothes on. He cut off her tits and ass. Seeing how the lack of skin in those places is covered with blood. It was the most brutal death you've ever given anyone. Because she was your husband the most. As you disfigured her body with the blade, you remembered that her body was the tool she wanted to use to get your husband.

And she was the one through whom he found out what was happening to you.

But instead of being disgusted and scared of you, he stayed with you.

He let you lock him in the house with you. He let you hold him the whole time. Mark it as yours. That was exactly it.

You asked him to mark you as his too. And he did it without hesitation. Even with a smile on my face.

He was your perfect husband, just yours on one condition.

As long as you promise him something.

A promise that you won't show this side to anyone else. Because if your superiors found out that a special grade sorcerer like you killed people for no reason, you'd be in trouble.

You promised him this.

Because that meant he would be yours forever.

But you couldn't hold back the side of you that was the real you sometimes.

Especially when you knew a woman was with him. And that woman wasn't you.

You believe him that he only loves you.

Because he promised you that he is only yours.

You believe him. Because he is your husband. Your love is sincere and unconditional.

He gave you a smile and kissed your forehead as he heard the sound of a pen hitting the floor.

When he turned around, you couldn't help but just watch shamelessly as he leaned to the side and grabbed the pen.

And suddenly you directed your open hand to his buttock, slapping it with a rather loud sound.

He stayed in that position for a while.

He laughed.

"Keheh... Really? A serious moment turning into this?" he chuckled, slowly getting upright. "You said I was the pervert. And who spanks me at work?"

You stood up, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Don't you think you need to show me again that you're mine?" you whispered.

"How this time?" He gave you a wild smile.

He likes it when you show him that he is yours. Because then he can have some fun too.

Sex? Oh yes. He loves it. When you want to show him that he is yours, he shows you that you are his. And also those faces you make for pleasure. This is heaven for him. You give him heaven when you show him his place next to you.

Those lovely marks you leave on his body... He's not ashamed to show them.

All the scratches, love bites and other marks left by your lips. He's proud of it. Because you want him to like that it's on his body.

It's on your body too. He marks his territory. And he also has such damn kinks...

You reached for your pen, placing your signature on the document. And his hand grabbed yours and placed it on his chest.

"Show me that I am yours."

He did it on purpose...

It wasn't fair. But you love him because he likes it when you mark him. If the price for him being like this to you is just to stop killing, you will do it right away without even a second thought.

You stood up, grabbing the zipper of his uniform. Taking it off hastily he threw it away. But before he could continue undressing, you interrupted him.

Closing the windows and locking the door, you slowly walked around. And the sound of the shoes you wore today echoed throughout the room. Giving his ears a nice tapping sound to excite him.

Standing on the other side of the desk, you leaned up slightly, reaching for the locked cabinet where you kept the necessary things.

Your almost horny good boy quickly walked up to you from behind, placing his hands on your hips, guiding you to his crotch as he placed his broad chest on your back. Kissing the back of your neck gently. Like a kitten looking for stroking from its owner.

But the red rope wasn't what he expected.

"Bondage, huh?" He whispered with a smile.

"Not completely." You straightened up, telling him to do the same. "Be a good boy."

Holding his wrist, you pulled him to the other side and pointed to the swivel chair.

"Don't say anything later, I wasn't the one who came up with this idea in the office. Do you like this kind of fun~? You could have told me, I would have given myself to you the minute we walked in here ~."

You places a finger on his soft lips, feeling his smile widen.

Sitting sideways on his lap, you wrapped the rope around his chest, tying it so it wouldn't fall off.

Standing sideways, you moved the chair to make it rotate, and the red line automatically began to wrap around his chest, dressed in a tight black t-shirt. Stopping him for a moment, you wrapped his wrists, tying them to the metal at the backrest, and then reached his ankles.

Letting him sit with his legs apart slightly because you knew his pants might get a little tight at some point.

Once he was sure he was tied up securely, you pulled him closer to the desk as you sat on the furniture, taking off your shoes. And your legs in the dark tights he gave you to wear with your skirt were rubbing against his muscular thighs.

You felt his muscles tense and then relax under your touch.

You reached into the drawer to pull out a small decorated knife and the juicy lipstick he had bought you recently because he liked the color.

"Dangerous game, honey?"

He kept laughing.

He loved you like this. He loved it when you were yourself.

He loved that you loved how you wanted to show that he was yours.

These bonds are your love. You love him and hold him. You don't let him go anywhere. Because he is yours.

However, he loves you. That's why he doesn't mind you holding him.

"Who does my Toru belong to?" You murmured seductively, grabbing your lipstick to refine the outline of your lips.

“To my Gojo (y/n).” he replied with a similar tone of voice to yours.

You leaned lower and cut the neckline of his shirt, freeing the top of his chest.

Jumping down onto his thighs, you sat on his lap, kissing him passionately.

Letting his tongue swirl with yours, you smeared the lipstick on his lips, and on his jaw afterwards.

"Is it just me or are your pants not so comfortable anymore?" You laughed, using the tip of the knife to cut his waistband, knowing it was looser now.

"I trust that my wife will take care of me." he muttered, seeing the knife glide lightly along his zipper.

It was a thrill knowing that the blade was so close to him. But he trusted you.

"You have to wait a little bit."

You placed your mouth on his throat, sucking on the skin. Hearing him purr slightly at the feeling of your warm lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched closely as your hand gently ran the knife across his shirt, the taut fabric over his muscles spreading where the hole was. And his bare skin was shown.

Sitting higher on his thighs, you tightened your thighs lightly around his waist, biting, sucking, and kissing the bare skin of his arms and neck. Leaving red lipstick marks and more permanent marks on his skin.

Kissing him occasionally to smear more pink on his lips and jaw. Pressing the shape of your lips onto his Adam's apple and continuing to cut his clothes to make him look like a lewd mess. Sweaty, with lipstick on his face, neck and chest.

"Baby, promise me something else." He said with a smile and heavier breathing. "Promise you'll always have me like this."

Requested by @weebotaku21

[needydanger]

Red Wine | What Turns a Man On

18+ SMUT

pairing(s): levi ackermann x f!reader

content: 69′ing with captain levi

a/n: sorry for any grammar errors!  -scar <3

You held your fancy wine glass in an elegant manner; bringing it up to your lips. However, that classy facade fell short when you downed the entire glass as if it were water. The point of tonight was to mingle with Marleyan soldiers that were betraying their own country in favor of Eldian freedom. 

In your head, tonight was a competition to see who could get drunk the fastest. And you were in the lead by a major feat.

“Seriously, Y/n?”, Connie questions. You glare at him.

“What?”

His judgmental gaze turns into a dramatic pout, “Without me?!”

Soon; you, Connie, and Sasha were drunk. Your booming voices and annoying laughter caught the attention of everyone in the room. “Ah..who let the idiots have wine?”, Levi groans to Hange.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n this happy.”

You were lively. Mingling with everybody. You even got Jean and Eren into the mix. They became competitive with each other, and drank until Jean's face was on the table. “HA! Y/n, look! I won~”, Eren smiles at you.

You were the most fun anybody has had in ages.

It went too far, though, when you accidentally spilt red wine on Zeke’s white suit. “What the fuck?!”, he gasps. You look at the spreading stain on his pants with wide eyes. “I..I am so sorry!”

Zeke realizes it was you and softens. In a quick motion, you grab a napkin off a dinner table, dunk it in a glass of water, and attempt to wipe out the stain on his pants.

Zeke can’t help but just watch as you mindlessly rubbed away at his crotch. 

You knew a few things..

But social cues were not one of them. In sincere truth; you really were dense when it came to stuff like this.

But that didn’t matter when everyone is watching in shock.

You decide that the stain is never coming out and grab your wine glass, “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”, Zeke shrugs it off. You take note of the sly smile he had. You felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t that upset about it after all.

You’re suddenly grabbed by the hair, and everyone watched as you are unfashionably escorted out of the room.

You’re thrown against a wall—immediately scolded.

“Do you have a death wish?”

The voice makes you look up with bambi eyes. “Captain?”

You stumble back when he approaches you and end up on your ass like an idiot. He grabs your hair again, “It was okay for you to drink, but to make Zeke hard like that in front of your comrades?”

His grip tightens and you wince, “Are you truly that dumb?” 

You shake your head profusely, “H-Hard? No he wasn’t!”

“Why do you think he was smiling like a kid in a candy shop?”

You yell, “How the hell am I supposed to know that would turn someone on?!”

Levi lets go of you and debates his next steps. He gets down to your level and uses his gloved hands to spread your legs wide open. Your dress barely covered over your underwear, and it made you blush intensely.

“W-What are you doing?!”

He takes the wine glass in your hand and splashes it in the same manner you did to Zeke. He takes his right glove off to reach for his handkerchief, and starts rubbing your inner thighs.

You immediately slap a hand on your mouth. His hand danced from your inner thighs to your pussy. Rubbing endlessly on your clit. 

“O-Okay! I get it now! You can stop, I’m sorry!! I won’t ever do that again.”, You grab ahold of his arm.

“Why, are you turned on?”, he asks condescendingly, pressing his middle finger slightly into you. The barrier of the napkin and your underwear saved you from any more embarrassment.

“Yes!”, you angrily blush. He scoffs and you almost regret telling him to stop. “If you need any more help knowing what turns a man on so you don’t embarrass yourself like that again, let me know. For now, just go home. You’re done for the night.”

Before Levi leaves your view completely, you wobble over to him. You grab a hold of his hand and ask, “I, uh..can you tell me what turns a man on?”

You’re now in Levi’s room.

On his bed, more specifically.

You’re sitting awkwardly on the edge and he’s in the chair across from you.

“Men can get hard from physical touch. Sexual or not. What you did was the perfect example.” You sink into your shoulders. Ugh. “However, there are some perverted men that can get hard at just the sight of something they find attractive.”

“So they get hard over everything, basically?”

Levi nods, “Depends who we’re talking about. Most of it is all in here.”, he taps on his head, “Thoughts are powerful. Get a man started on just one dirty thought, and their mind will run freely.”

You sigh into your palms, “Now I really feel like an idiot.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know”, he shrugs. 

Sexual Education wasn’t exactly a hot topic in Paradis. There was only 1 school where you grew up, and they taught you mostly about titans; how to kill them and how to survive. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?”, Levi looks up

“What turns you on?”

Silence. 

You feel a sweat bead ready to fall from your forehead. Did I mess up again?

“Why does that concern you?”

“Um, so I don’t make another mistake?” Goddamnit, Y/n. You can at least sound sure of yourself. 

“I already told you what turns me on.”

You blink. Eh? You think back to what he said merely minutes ago, and go through a process of elimination. Okay, well, Levi isn’t a pervert. Sure, he’s a man. But he won’t die without sex...

“Thoughts and touching?”

He nods. 

“Hm.”, you think. What else can he be into? Well, cleaning is one thing.. “Role play?”

His brow raises, “Elaborate.”

“Like..sexy maid outfits and making someone call you captain in bed.”

He tilts his head, “I never thought about that.”

You giggle nervously, “Haha, well. I guess I was wrong.”

There’s awkward silence in the room. Levi is looking at you stare at everything else in the room except for him. 

“What turns you on?”

You burn up, “Touch.”

“Anything specific?”

You look off to the side, “Hair pulling and..what you did earlier, I guess.”

When you turn to look at him, you’re met with his belt. “So, all those years that I’ve been pulling your hair..?”

You nod up to him, “It’s turned me on.”

He’s peering down on you with a clenched jaw. The way his eyes are literally boring into your soul makes you feel small. What exactly was going on in his head? How did it get to this point?

He breaks eye contact with you and just clenches his fists. Hm? You stare directly in front of you and see the bulge in his pants. Oh. 

“Captain.”

“Yes?”, he doesn’t look at you.

You take your hand and gently rub up and down his clothed cock. Levi snaps his neck to look down at you.

“Is this okay?”, you ask coyly. Those damned bambi eyes..

There was no more being clueless. You knew exactly what you were doing now. What you wanted, and what he wanted. 

Levi places his hands on the bed so he can kiss you. It’s slow and passionate.

His tongue got familiar with yours in ways that made you feel butterflies. So this is what it’s like to get excited by just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for breath. “Yes, it’s okay.”, he finally answers. You put your hand back on his cock. This time, unzipping his pants and rubbing him through his boxers. 

He lets you do whatever you want. 

You put your hand down his underwear and can’t believe how nice it feels. “You’re huge.”, you say honestly. His lips fall agape before he kisses you again. You loved to be dominated by him, but you still wanted to follow through with what you were going to do before. 

You roll over on top and push him back. He’s confused when you straddle him with your head facing his feet. It didn’t register in his head what you were about to do, until he felt your lips on the tip of his cock. 

He fists the sheets, getting filled to the brim with arousal. You kissed the tip, licked it, sucked on it, playfully tapped it against your tongue. You wanted to make him lose his mind. 

Levi is face to face with your open legs. You feel a tug on your underwear and cry out when his tongue on you. In you.

You pop off his dick with a moan. Was he seriously going to eat you out at the same time? “Don’t stop sucking until I cum.”, he orders you.

“Yes, Levi.”

He lands a solid smack on your right ass cheek. The sound that leaves your mouth is actually embarrassing. It’s a mix between a scream and a moan.

“Is that how you address your superior?”

You bite your lip, “S-Sorry, Captain.”

He smiles and kisses your clit, “That’s a good girl.”

The compliment is enough to have you deep throating his cock.

The position is a never ending cycle of stimulation. With his tongue working wonders on you, you can’t stop moaning on his dick. He returns that vibrating feeling back on your most sensitive areas—moaning into your pussy.

It’s enough to make you cum on his face.

You stop sucking on his cock so you can enjoy this euphoria. “Agh!! Fuck.”

He lets you ride on his tongue like a desperate whore. The aftershocks of your orgasm are toe-curling.

You collapse to the side and shakingly crawl back down to his legs. He watched as you put your mouth back on him, looking up into his eyes.

“Fuck, y/n.”, he grips onto your hair just how you said you like it, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Again with the compliments. You’re now determined to make him cum like it’s your life purpose.

“Take it out of your mouth, I’m going to cum.”, he says softly.

Instead, you suck as hard and fast as you can. He moans in surprise, “S-Stop!”

You use your hands for the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He pulls your head back so you’re looking up at him, “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum in your mouth!”

You give him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen. Your cheeks are red, you have tears brimming in your eyes from your orgasm before, and there’s saliva running down the corners of your mouth. Wow..

“Don’t worry. I’ll swallow it all, Captain.”

Soon, he’s spilling down your throat. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”, he groans. You swallow every drop and don’t pull off until there’s nothing left. Once you both had a chance to collect yourselves, he kisses you.

Your eyes widened.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. And you’re sure he could taste himself too. It’s such a lewd feeling. Was it bad to like it this much?

You’re now both lying down against the pillows with the sheets over your body.

“Ah..I’m so tired.”, you sigh, giggling. 

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you up in time for tomorrow.”, he pushes your hair back out of your face. 

“Okay.”, you reply softly.

[glowingbadger]

May I request a Dedue with a quiet (and observant) s/o who has little to no confidence with themselves? Whatever you're in the mood to write is fine with me! ~🌺

Dedue! What a sweetie <3 And definitely the only Blue Lion I haven't written about here yet, so let's change that~

Dedue (FE3H) x GN Reader Headcanons

SFW (not sfw below the cut)

- Dedue's love language is both a blessing and a curse for our lovely shy Reader. On the one hand, it's a relief that he's not going to smother you with half-sincere praise or extravagant gifts; but on the other, as his feelings for you deepen, he instead just wants to be around you more often, keep an eye on you and quietly ensure your safety and comfort. It can be easy to read this as him "just being friendly," so there will be a loooong phase of mutual pining- him just floundering to come up with a way to be more forthcoming with you, and you assuming at every turn that there's no way someone as put-together, serious, and not to mention handsome has fallen for you.

- One gesture that may finally make it through to you is that he makes a habit of cutting one bloom of your favorite flower from the greenhouse and gifting it to you, always remembering to bring you a fresh one when the last begins to wilt. Finally. once he'd decided that he can't risk allowing his true feelings to go unsaid, he brings you to the gardens and presents you with a full bouquet of those same flowers- "I am not skilled with words, but I have realized I would come to regret it if you never heard the truth of my feelings. That truth is that each time I've gifted you this flower, it was to say that I have fallen in love with you."

- He's insistent of course that he doesn't expect you to return his affections, and that he believes it would only cause you undue stress and persecution to be with someone of his background- and when you tell him that you do in fact return his feelings, that you'd hoped to be with him for some time, it takes a long while and a lot of reassurance for him to believe that you're truly willing to accept certain risks to be together. When all is said and done, and you're both a quietly flustered mess, grappling with excitement and joy and relief and a little anxiety, it all feels so overwhelming and too good to be true.

- After this, your relationship is a wonderfully sweet and supportive one. He's a quiet and sometimes insecure type himself, so he very much empathizes with your feelings, and does all that he can to reassure you of the depth and strength of his affections. Spending time with him is endlessly soothing and reassuring, whether you're helping him with chores in the greenhouse, or maybe he's teaching you a few things in the kitchen, or perhaps the two of you are simply lying in bed together with a book. Now and then you catch him watching you with a hint of a smile that shows more in his eyes than on his lips, and he'll frequently run a hand along your back or kiss your hair without a word, just to assure you that he's there and he adores you.

NSFW 18+ v

- Dedue is such a wonderfully sweet and gentle lover. He's not terribly experienced (before you, he'd assumed he would only ever marry if it were of political benefit to King Dimitri), but he generally knows what he's doing, and he's so attentive and focused that he'll easily pick up on all the wonderful little nuances of your pleasure. And you just know that he's generous in bed- a man so accustomed to happily serving others is absolutely going to bury himself between your thighs until you've cum all over his face, and make sure you're dazed with blissful pleasure before he even thinks about entering you.

- Regardless of your body type, it's likely you're still quite a bit smaller than he is overall, and he secretly loves that. It's hard to convince him that you want to focus on his satisfaction, as he's giving to a fault- but the moment he first sees you down between his knees, struggling to manage the size of his cock in your pretty little mouth, it wakes something in him that he'd never known before. He adores knowing that he's so much bigger than you, that he can hold and protect you, and he cherishes and admires everything soft about you.

- While he can't bring himself to engage in dirty talk or much vocalizing at all in bed, the way he gazes at you like you're the last beautiful thing on this earth makes his admiration entirely clear. He never wants to give you any reason to doubt his attraction to you, but rather than say it, he instead commits himself entirely to your comfort and satisfaction.

- His pace is generally slow but deep- something he feels somewhat obligated to focus on, given you'll need time to adjust to the impressive size of his cock. While not as much of an outward mother-hen like some of our guys, he's quietly vigilant about your reactions, and will immediately steady himself if it seems as though he's hurting you (no matter how absolutely adorable you look, faced flushed and with your body full of his thick member). Dedue is also definitely the type to tell you when he's close to cumming so you have the opportunity to tell him where you want it.

- It's not uncommon for things to get a little heated in the kitchen between you two. It's such a comforting but intimate activity that puts you both at ease- here, it's just you and him, working towards a low-stakes goal together and trading light conversation. But eventually, one or both of you simply can't resist how sweet and endearing the other is at times like this. Perhaps Dedue notices a drop of the sauce you just taste-tested clinging to your lip and leans close to kiss it away. Or perhaps you're daring enough to lick a stray bit of cream from the tip of his finger (which of course sets his heart pounding). Either way, if you're open to it, he'll gladly lift you against a wall or even onto an available counter and slowly push his length into you. Admittedly, it's hard to think of a better use of the time waiting for dough to rise than getting fucked nice and deep and steady by your strong, adoring lover.

[let-them-read-fics]

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 2)

Synopsis / Request: “Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again.”

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Warnings / Misc: Smut (only in Pt. 1), Angst, Fluff

Here’s the second half of the request for you lovely peeps! Enjoy :)

Part 1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

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"Y/N, more people are arriving and management wants us to greet them. Something about photo ops." Jackson, your fellow lead, says as he pokes his head into your dressing room. His entrance intruded on your thoughts of the beautiful brunette that effectively stole your heart away within a night, leaving you completely at her mercy despite being worlds away.  

"Alright, just give me a second." He nods and goes to stand outside your door -- you're expected to be seen together for a good portion of the night. Thankfully, though, Jackson is a good guy; he cares a lot about you, always doing everything in his power to keep you happy. The feeling is mutual; it's nice to have someone in your corner in an industry as unforgiving as this one. 

"Ready?" You ask, opening the door after you've checked yourself in the mirror and smoothed down any unruly hairs or clothing. Looking presentable is a must tonight -- you can't appear as wistful as you've been feeling lately. 

"Sure am." His answer is a bit unnecessary, seeing as how you asked a rhetorical question, but you send him a smile nonetheless. He offers you an arm, and soon the two of you are walking back towards the entrance of the building. 

--------

Waves of flashing cameras greet you for the second time tonight, now capturing you in your full glammed-out look. The first time had been a few hours ago when your team arrived to begin setting up and get all of you ready. 

The entire cast now stands stretched out in front of the large screen that will air the movie later, your arms around each other as you smile for the cameras. Promotional pictures shine behind you on the screen, serving as a perfect backdrop as they cycle through their predetermined slideshow.

Eventually, you all disperse to greet some guests. 

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Choi. It's wonderful seeing you again." 

"I hope you enjoy our performances, Mrs. Lee. Your support has meant the world to us." 

"Ah, Jeong! How've you been?" 

Countless faces pass by as you work hard to greet everyone, knowing full well your company will be upset if you slack off now. It's everyone's big night, so they obviously can't have their leading lady stopping for even a minute. 

You're almost ready to run to the restroom in order to have a moment to yourself, free of prying eyes and judgemental stares; but what you hear next sends a chill down your spine, an all too familiar ache in your chest. 

It's Jennie. She's laughing that wonderful laugh of hers, taking you back in time to when you first heard it. Her members must've said something really hilarious, because all of them are doubled over, clutching their stomachs with laughter. 

"Hey again," Jackson greets, and for a second you almost want to tell him to leave you alone. You don't, though, knowing you have no right to pull something like that. 

"YG's girl group just got here. Do you want to say hello?" Of course you do. You want to run into Jennie's arms and spin her around, reveling in the way her arms would surely wrap around you in that warm embrace that's so uniquely hers. You want to tell her a stupid joke to make her laugh again, like she had just a few moments ago. You want to talk to her. 

But you don't.

"No, not right now. I'm going to visit with my family, if that's alright with you." 

"Sure, sure." He says considerately, unwrapping his arm from you. You press a friendly kiss to his cheek as a thank you, letting it serve as a goodbye as well. 

"Eomma!" You shout, squeezing through the crowd when you spot her at one of the banquet tables lining the front of the room. The rest of the space is filled with rows of chairs, already set out for when the movie premieres. 

"Ah, baby girl. We're so proud of you." She says, holding you in a tight embrace as tears spill from her eyes. Her arms bring you comfort like no other, and you're beyond grateful to have her here tonight. Some of your friends stand behind her, too, waiting for their turn to say hello. 

Jennie watches you interact with them from across the room, and she feels a pang of sadness run through her. She's not naive to how these things work: your other cast mates had come over to greet her and girls, snapping pictures and even starting meaningful conversations in some cases -- all of that meaning you had been given the opportunity to do the same, but turned it down. Do you not want to see her? Maybe she had misjudged your night together. You are an actress, after all. 

She shakes her head, physically willing the thoughts to go away as she turns her focus to whatever new person was talking to them now. She continues stealing glances in your direction, finding you looking somewhere else every time. She'd give just about anything to have you look at her, if only for a moment. Just a glance, she thinks to herself, praying the universe hears her pleas. They seem to fall on deaf ears, though, because before she knows it the MC is calling all of you onto stage and the guests are directed to their seats. 

"Let's welcome the cast of Empress of the Heart!" The MC says cheerily, tucking his notecard underneath his arm in order to clap along with the audience. "They've spent months working hard for this project, travelling to filming locations in different countries, learning new languages, and facing their fears. We hope all of you thoroughly enjoy their performances. Now, I'll hand it over to our leads." 

You and Jackson bow towards the audience, waving at them politely as they applaud you again. He looks at you, a silent question of if you want to speak first, and you nod. Taking the mic from him, you say, "Firstly, I'd like to thank our incredible cast and crew. They played just as important a role in this movie as Jackson and I, and we're endlessly grateful for their hard work." More cheers ring out at your kind hearted show of appreciation, and you speak up again once they've died down. 

"These past few months have been some of the best of my life, and I owe that to people like you, and my fans. Thank you for taking a chance on me and supporting me. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." You say sincerely, looking into the camera that's recording all of this for exclusive content. When the movie drops for the public in a couple weeks, they'll be able to buy this tape as well and see highlights from the premiere. The thought of your fans watching it from the comfort of their own homes, yelling praises at their screens, makes you smile. 

Jackson takes over now, smoothly transitioning into his own mini speech of thanks. You stop your eyes from meeting the one pair that they so desperately want to, always keeping them trained on other parts of the crowd. If you allow your resolve to crumble, you'll get lost in her all over again and potentially screw up one of the biggest nights of your life. You can't take a risk like that. 

You laugh at something Jackson says, some joke about how you had to face your fear of heights for a scene in the movie, and Jennie takes a deep breath. She's not exactly jealous, but yet that's precisely the feeling that creeps its way into her chest. She knows that you're avoiding her for some reason, but she has no idea why. Did she do something wrong? 

--------

Why, why, did they have to sit Blackpink in the row right behind you? It's karmic, the universe's way of pushing you back to each other, but you don't know how to feel about it all. You can feel her eyes boring into you as each new scene plays, silently begging for you to turn around and talk to her, even if it's impolite to do so in the middle of a movie.

You don't, though, fighting every fiber of your being to keep yourself from giving in. 

Despite the emotions that swirl within her that pay little mind to the number they're doing on her heart, she actually finds herself enjoying parts of the movie. It's bittersweet, seeing you up there, but you command the screen in a way that seems to steal all coherent thoughts from her brain. You're truly skilled, and she gets a kick out of watching you hide behind your hands in embarrassment when your co-stars offer whispered praises.

During one scene in particular, though, Jennie's eyes drop to the floor, her teeth clenched together tightly. Your character just saved Jackson's from certain doom, and the two of you are sharing a long-overdue kiss. The rest of the crowd lets out approving noises at this, but Jennie is comforted by her members' soft smiles and reassuring touches. You feel guilty, for some reason, knowing that anything you were a part of made Jennie so upset. It shouldn't matter, though -- I mean, it's not like you and Jackson are actually together -- but still, it hurts Jennie to see him kiss you and hold you in the ways she wants to. 

The rest of the night carries on much the same, but later on, once you get enough courage to look for Jennie, she's gone. The other girls are too, and a sinking feeling settles in your chest. Gone -- again -- just like all that time ago. Your reasons for staying away from her were legitimate, but they felt nothing of the sort as you glanced around the crowd again. 

The movie ended earlier, already getting good marks and reviews from the critics who came to view it, and now the "afterparty" of sorts was kicking in. You hadn't expected the girls to stay long after the movie, but you'd at least hoped to utter a word to them, if nothing else. A smile would've sufficed. 

Realizing she's really gone, you let out a sad sigh and make your way down the hall, towards the large doors that lead to the balcony. If anything can clear your mind right now, surely it's a chilly breeze. 

You lay an arm against the sturdy railing, leaning on it as you massage your neck. All of the stress you've been put under is showing in the form of painful knots, far too many to get rid of in one go. You sigh, letting your head lull forward and lay against your arm.

"And here I was thinking I wouldn't see you again."

At the utterance, you turn around to find her leaned up against the stone wall of the building with a playful smirk on her lips. She's back to her old self in an instant, but you can sense the undertones of nervousness in her voice. 

The darkness of the night that envelops you two makes her eyes look even more feline -- even more alluring -- and it takes everything in you not to lose your train of thought. 

"Jennie." Her name comes out as a pleased declaration more than anything else, a familiar flutter taking over your heart at the sight of her. It's a warm feeling in your chest, and you never want it to go away. 

You try not to focus on the sensual swaying of her hips or the teasing look in her eye as she pushes herself away from the wall to approach you. 

"I thought you left." You breathe out, remembering how sad you were earlier. 

"Without getting you alone first? How could I?" The implication behind her words gives you pause, causing a blush to begin forming on your cheeks. You curse yourself for being so easy.

"I've missed you like crazy," she confesses, allowing herself to be vulnerable again. Now in front of you, she brushes the back of her fingertips against your cheek as you look into her eyes. 

"I've missed you, too -- more, probably," you say, the declaration sounding like an embarrassed sigh as it leaves your lips. She smiles at that -- her genuine, gummy smile that you've missed so much -- and your heart flutters again. 

She debates on asking the question that sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be answered. "Why didn't you greet me before, at the party?" Her voice is small now, insecure, as she avoids your gaze and stills her movements. 

"I-..." you start, finding yourself at a loss for words. Should you tell her how you feel?

"I was afraid you'd throw me off my game. You're pretty distracting, you know?" You reply, nudging her shoulder playfully. A hint of a smile tugs at her cheeks, unsure if it should finish the job and turn into a big one. 

"I thought I did something wrong." She informs.

"Not at all. In fact, you did things a little too right, if you ask me. I can't stay away from you, Jennie." Her heart trips and stumbles over itself in its pursuit of gaining a steady rhythm again, thrown off course by your words. 

Growing brave, she suggests, "Go on a date with me, then. I wanna have more nights like that with you." She whispers that last part, ghosting her fingertips over your skin to awaken the memories. 

"I'd like that," you smile, leaning in to kiss her lips. It's soft and gentle, much like your first one, and your heart hammers in your chest. It seems to forget that you've done this before, choosing instead to subject you to the giddiness you felt that first time with her. 

She pulls back to rest her forehead against yours, settling her arms around your waist, saying, "I've wanted to do that all night." You smile for the millionth time because of her, happy with how things have turned out.

"Do it again, then." 

And she does. 

[lokis-astvinur]

Follow You.

One Shot: Loki x Reader.

Prompt: You only see colours when you are in love... or not.

Word Count: 1686.

Warnings: language and fight.

You sighed tiredly you couldn't feel your body, you were sore and you wanted to finish training right there and then.

"C'mon, HYDRA won't give you much time to recover," Bucky hissed.

"Can you calm down for a second?" you asked, tiredly.

"Stand. UP." Bucky snarled.

"God, you're impossible," you cried.

Bucky launched himself into you and you avoided his fists, you jumped and flipped around kicking and punching, Bucky avoided each of your movements. You growled slamming hard into his chest with your knee, he fell back and stood to hit you, you jumped and punched, he stopped your hands and you fell back. You growled and kicked him doing a flip which ended with you flying across the room when Bucky grabbed your leg and launched you away. Your side hurt and you let out a cry.

"Ouch," you heard across the room. Steve and Sam watching.

"I can't," you cried, sore and tired.

"Stand up," Bucky snarled, walking to you.

"Bucky, I can't," you object.

"STAND UP," he shouted.

You cried, tears filling your eyes but stood up, you prepared yourself to be kicked again.

"Enough," Loki snarled, behind you. You jumped and let yourself fall on your ass. Loki appeared out of nowhere and stopped Bucky.

"She needs to train," Bucky said.

"She's done," Loki replied, helping you stand.

"You're not her mentor," Bucky spat.

Loki smiled sweetly at you and murmured a low "wait", he kissed your forehead softly and spun around punching Bucky straight in the face and made him fall a few feet away.

"Loki!" you shouted, shocked.

"Son of a bitch!" Bucky growled, rushing to hit him back but Sam and Steve stopped him.

"Hey, hey," Sam said.

"We are not doing this," Steve tried to calm them down.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Bucky growled, pissed off.

"You need to rest," Loki murmured to you. He carried you away and you gave Bucky, Sam and Steve an apologetic look. Ever since Bucky rejected you a year ago Loki has been protective of you. You were close friends, besties you always said. Loki supported and helped you as much as he could and he even started joining your team on missions. The last mission didn't go well, Bucky and you argued and you ended bleeding. Bucky was a good friend and you knew at some point he had a crush on you. You heard him that's why when he rejected you it hurt but you decided to let it go.

Now, looking at Loki adding bath salts and a bath bomb in the tube made you smile. You liked Loki more than you should but you wouldn't say a thing. Loki had made clear he would never be with a Midgardian.

"You shouldn't have punched him," you murmured.

"He is a dick," Loki growled.

"Don't be too harsh on him," you whispered, stroking his arm.

"He broke your heart," Loki hissed, clearly upset.

"That was long ago," you murmured, "plus, I forgave him," you added.

"Have your bath," Loki said, "I'll come back with dinner, you need to rest,"

He left you alone and you relaxed in the hot water. He even added your essentials oils, he cared. You thought about the nights you spent with Loki. The date nights around downtown, the cinema nights, the watching the stars night, karaoke nights, walk in the park and sit with hot chocolate in your hands. God, you loved Loki, endlessly.

"He didn't mean to hurt you," Steve said, sweetly.

"I know," you smiled, "Loki can be cutthroat sometimes," you murmured.

"Loki wants to protect you," Steve added.

"He punched Bucky," you said.

"80 times," Steve smirked and you laughed.

"He said Bucky broke my heart so he wants to break his limps," you joked.

"And I would help him," Steve joked. You smiled. "Loki loves you,"

"Steve, don't," you murmured.

"Listen for a second," Steve said.

"I know what you want to say but it's not real," you interrupted.

"Loki," Steve said.

"Yes?" Loki asked, from the door.

"Loki!" you called. Loki walked to your bedside and left a package on your lap. You opened the package and smiled, more books, "thank you,"

"You mentioned you wanted them," Loki murmured.

You nodded and you caught a glimpse of Steve smiling suggestively, you rolled your eyes.

"Loki," Steve said, "A friend asked if you wanted to join dinner with us?"

"No," Loki answered.

"You sure?" Steve continued, "She's the blonde..."

Loki cut him off, "No," he focused on you, "Anything else you need?"

"Sweetcheeks is coming, too," Steve added. Loki inspected you for a second.

"Okay," Loki said, "I will take you to the place,"

"But," you murmured.

"But nothing," Steve added, "I'll see you the location,".

You bounced from one leg to another, you waited for Loki in the living room. Barton has already joked about the two of you and you knew he was trying to contact Tony.

"Wow," you heard Sam behind you.

"Sam!" you smiled.

"You look amazing," Sam said, making you spun around.

"Thank you," you murmured, shyly. Wanda picked the outfit for you. A jean black dress, converse and a dark green and gold coat. "Are you coming?"

"Oh," Sam murmured, "I'll see you there, got to pick up flowers," he half grinned.

"Let's go," Loki said, fixing his watch. Your mouth fell open, he wore black tux trousers hugging his long legs, a white shirt, a black tie and a leather jacket, perfectly polished shoes.

"Damn," Sam murmured.

"Let's... let's go," you babbled.

Loki opened your car door and you walked into the nice restaurant. He gave Steve's name and the waiter walked you to your seats. A table for two.

"But Steve..." you murmured.

"Ah," Loki sighed, checking his phone, "Rogers had to cancel, the ladies weren't feeling alright,"

"All of them?" you asked, unamused.

"He said we left early so they didn't want to ruin our night," Loki added.

You nodded at him and ordered some wine. You waited for your food while Loki went quickly to the restroom. You texted Steve telling him you would kill him if you caught a glimpse of him. He laughed and said you would thank him later.

Whatever Steve had in mind did not happen. You stormed in the living room to your quarters while Loki shouted behind you.

"What happened?" Steve asked, confused.

"Hey doll," Bucky asked, following you.

"Barnes if you touch her," Loki spat.

"Go to hell, Loki!" you yelled from the hall.

Loki growled and sat angrily on the sofa. Sam and Steve observed him and waited for him to explain what happened.

"None of your business," Loki snarled.

"We haven't said anything," Sam hissed back.

"Steve is thinking too loud," Loki growled, his body tense and he sighed.

"I'll check on her," Steve added. Sam nodded and he waited for Loki.

"But what happened?" Bucky asked, concerned.

"Loki is an ass," you growled.

"But why?" Bucky asked, again.

You denied tears filled your eyes rage taking over you, "I hate him,"

"Doll," Bucky tried to get closer.

"He said men don't find me attractive," you spat.

"What?" Bucky paled.

"What happened?" Steve walked in, checked you and sat in your bed.

"You and your stupid ideas!" you shouted.

"What did I do?" Steve asked.

"Loki," you murmured, you denied and you fell on your knees and cried.

"Oh no," Steve murmured rushing to you. He tried to calm you down and Bucky didn't know what to do.

"He didn't mean to," Steve murmured.

"Ha," you laughed, "Why whenever any man hurts me you say they don't mean to?" you spat angrily. Bucky gulped remembering a year ago, back when he did the stupidest thing ever.

"It's Loki," Steve murmured, "he follows you around,"

"He doesn't even see me as a FRIEND," you laughed, hurt.

"Loki..." Steve tried to speak.

"I love you," Loki said standing in the door.

"You don't," you babbled, confuse and hurt.

"I follow you around," Loki said, "I do whatever you do, I chase you, I do whatever you need or you wish, I do my best to make you happy," he added.

"Loki," you murmured, "If you think for a single second you can play with..." Bucky punched Loki in the face and you screamed in horror.

"You hurt her," Bucky snarled.

"You hurt her first!" Loki yelled back, ready to fight back.

"Stop, you morons!" Steve yelled.

"Get out!" you yelled, "All of you!"

"I love you," Loki said, "And I mean every word," he walked to you and kissed your forehead. He walked out alongside Steve and Bucky.

"Steve," you stopped him.

"He is not lying," Steve murmured when they left.

"What am I going to do?" you murmured.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"I saw his colours," you babbled.

"He stopped hiding them from you," Steve smiled.

"Bucky," you whispered. Steve paled.

"What?" he asked.

"Both," you babbled, "Bucky and Loki have mixed colours,"

"Oh God," Steve murmured, "do you think?"

"Loki," you babbled.

"Why did you do it?" you murmured.

"I don't know," Loki murmured, "I guess I wasn't thinking,"

"You knew I liked him," you whispered.

"I thought I was only hiding mine," Loki rasped.

"Bucky," you sighed.

"I'm sorry I took him from you," Loki murmured. You could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"Do you mean it?" you asked, you looked at the stars above you.

"I think everyone knows I follow you," Loki laughed, softly.

"But.." you murmured. His lips crashed into yours and he kissed you softly as if the kiss would break you.

"You, it's always been you," Loki whispered slightly apart from you. You starred into his eyes you felt relief and then you saw them. The explosion of colours in his eyes, in his chest, in his brain, in his heart, in his soul. The colours that you saw in Wanda and Vision. Tony and Pepper. Thor and his pop-tarts.

"Colours," you babbled.

"I see them, too," Loki murmured and kissed you again.

[cherrysung]

walks & paws

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: strangers to lovers au / fluff

warnings: none

prompts: none

summary: walks were never your favorite; but maybe after an encounter that changed your life, you can manage to appreciate them a little bit more.

requested by anon.

word count: 1.5k

note: *smashes hands down on table* this is so adorable! thank you anonnie for requesting such a lovely scenario!

cherrysung’s navigation

Destiny was something you strongly believed in. A phenomenon that had no logical explanation, but somehow worked according to one’s actions and decisions. Everyday, you hoped faith had something awesome in store for you, and often wondered what your future would be about in years to come.

On a Friday afternoon; when the shining sun wasn’t as burning hot as it usually was during the peak of daytime, and the never ending skies were covered beautifully in warmer tones—you decided a walk through the park near your small apartment would do you good to start off a fresh weekend. Although you absolutely detested walks, one every two months felt fine.

And to top it off, you brought your lazy cat along.

Birds were chirping loudly in perfect melodies, and the breeze was blowing nicely against your face. Your cat’s fur flowed comically with the wind, it’s tiny legs struggling to keep up with your much bigger steps as the two of you walked through the sidewalks, the familiar sound of an electric fountain and children’s laugh pleasantly invading your ears the closer you got.

Upon arriving at the small park, you realized it was not as crowded as it had appeared to be. A few families were having picnics, sitting on red and grid blankets with a couple of bamboo baskets storing food, snacks and drinks for a decent variation. Kids were running around the green grasses, occasionally playing around with the water that splashed out of the huge fountain located at the center; or watching the colorful Japanese koi fish that swam happily in the beautiful pond not far away, with their parents worriedly holding onto them in fear they’d fall into the waters.

A smile etched its way onto your face, your unbothered furry friend had chosen to take a much needed seat on the grass, realizing you had yet again stumbled into nostalgia. With a slight pull on the leash hooked around its collar, the two of you continued an improvised path around the park. The smile never left your face, admiring the emerald green oak trees as their leaves seemed to dance along with the winds, or the countless sunflowers that stood with exuberance pridefully in an extensive sea of daisies and gardenias.

Your eyes were everywhere but the path in front of you, and due to your already clumsy nature, you failed to catch sight of the boy that walked the same cute, dirt trail. The opposite way.

“I’m so sorry!” He apologized profusely when your head hit his hard chest and you went flying backwards, landing with a light thump on the ground.

In a failed attempt to remain aware of your surroundings, you clashed against him with an embarrassing amount of lack of elegance, your cat scurrying quickly to the side in fright as your bottom slightly cushioned your landing. Your cheeks were burning red, and your pet could only lovingly lick your wrist with its rough, pink tongue. Maybe if you looked anywhere but him, he would leave.

“Are you alright? I’m really so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” He continued to endlessly apologize, offering you his hand to help you up to your feet. “Are you okay? Is your cat okay?”

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry—”

“You got a scratch on your elbow!”

You turned your arm to confirm for yourself before he became even guiltier; indeed, there was a tiny scratch. Tiny.

Letting out a laugh of disbelief, but thankfulness nonetheless, you waved your free hand around dismissively with a sweet smile on your face. “That’s the smallest scrape I’ve ever seen! Don’t worry about it! You did nothing wrong, I was the one who wasn’t looking, I should’ve been more careful of my steps.”

He sighed in relief, and only now had you noticed he was walking two cats. “My name is Jeno,” you shook his hand, “I noticed you have a cat too!”

“(Name), and yes, but I’m starting to think yours are way cuter.” You joked with a chuckle. “Mine has been lazy this entire walk.”

Jeno laughed at your confession, eyes creasing adorably into crescents as his grin lit up his features completely. He had a sharp facial structure, and had it not been for his smile, you would’ve never assumed he was capable of pulling off such a sweet expression. Then his eyes beamed so brightly, and you were proved wrong.

“Well, I’m genuinely glad you didn’t hurt yourself. Except for that scratch, though. Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m totally fine,” you soothed his worries with a nod of your head, “I’m more concerned for you. Your chest is hard, Jesus!”

Jeno blushed a deep shade of pink, small eyes widening adorably as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head with a soft smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I work out occasionally.”

Neither of you had become aware of how long the time you had been speaking for was, only then noticing the beginnings of a new sunset to come. You’d argue you were in the middle of a recent golden hour, flocks of starlings flying by the gleaming sun. The skies appeared as if they were painted, random shades of faded orange and yellow slowly engulfing it whole as the minutes ticked by and the clock announced the nearing of an early evening.

You turned to face the boy again, eyes widening at how red and itchy his neck was. “Jeno! Are you okay? Your neck is very red.”

He smiled, “I am. I’m allergic to cats, this is normal.”

“You’re allergic to cats but you have two of them?” You laughed, crouching down to pet his companions. One was almost entirely black, and the other was mostly brown with a few black spots located in random places.

“I actually have three, but my mom said I wouldn’t be able to keep up with all of them.”

“That’s cute.” You admitted simply before standing up, prompting yet another wave of rosy red to fill his cheeks, the tip of his ears also burning with embarrassment.

Needless to say, although the darkness of night was getting closer and closer by the moment, Jeno thought staying to watch the sunset would be a great idea. One you did not oppose either. The two of you took a seat on a random wooden bench that was in great needs of some new paint, as its previous one was already scraping off.

He sat next to you, your cat surprisingly happy under his touch as it rested on his lap, hand running over its fluffed up fur due to all the breeze it had endured. One of his cats slept between the two of you, while the other one also laid lazily on your thighs.

The rash on his neck has simmered down a tiny bit; yet, to you, he still looked handsome under a dim lamp post light that shined over the both of you.

Soon enough, the sun had set, the sky now darkened with a few tints of lavender and pink fighting to show up. Most families had left, and only a small amount of people remained besides you two. You turned to face Jeno, finding with shock that his gaze was already on you, eyes scanning your features swiftly before finally locking with yours. He smiled again, and you weren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were the ones tickling you, or if it was his cat’s fur that brushed against your legs.

“Would you want to hang out some other time again? Without cats that give me allergies and actually planned beforehand so you don’t end up bumping into hard chests anymore?” He thanked whatever god was above that nighttime had arrived, and that you weren’t able to see how flushed his face was.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Stutters stumbled off his lips at your unexpected question, “do you—do you, um, want it to be a date? It doesn’t have to be! But if you want to, it can be—”

“A date sounds fine to me, Jeno,” you smiled sincerely at him, pulling out a notepad from your small crossbody handbag and writing your phone number on it before placing the small paper on his palm. “I would love to. I had a great time with you.”

Jeno gratefully returned your smile, nodding with utter happiness as the both of you got hold of your respective pets, standing up with a sigh and warmth that refused to leave your cheeks. “Want me to walk you home?”

You shook your head, “it’s fine. I live very close, so don’t worry. Just make sure to text me once you get to your own home and you’ve taken some pills for that rash.” He chuckled, nodding at your words as he looked down at you with a loving stare. “Goodnight Jeno, it was nice meeting you and your cats. I’m looking forward to our date.” With a quick peck on his cheek, you turned on your heel and on your way back to your apartment, not needing to look back at his face to know he was unbelievably flustered, red as a tomato.

Destiny surely had something awesome in store for you.

[leechonspeeddial]

Midnight Shift: The Serpent at Burger King - A Seduction of Kevins Summary: The Devil comes disguised as everything you want, Alice Cullen comes with fondue fountains and Bugattis. wc: 1.7k Read on ao3

There was one simple lesson I learned from a young age and quickly internalized while living as a Cullen.

Never play chess with a psychic.

You think a mind reader is a problem? No, you just have to add on geographical distance and then you're back on an equal playing field; as long as you keep apart, you can use your best strategies and winning is still possible. A psychic though, there is no distance you can go to be hidden from their sight. Once they get their teeth in you, your odds at winning are – for a lack of a better word – shit. So, as I held Alice's gaze at our local Burger King, I reminded myself this one very important rule.

Never play chess with a psychic.

Too late.

If you did find yourself playing chess with a psychic, the best course of action would be to become irrational and flip the board. You might not win, but neither would they and you'd save yourself the effort. I took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were currently five humans with ten pairs of working human eyes at the restaurant; flipping the board would be disastrous, either people would die or they'd bear witness to vampiric activity. So that's out of the question, next strat.

Though Alice had gotten used to reading around the blind spots caused by me, she hadn't totally mastered it yet. My best choice was to act without thinking and take over the conversation as much as possible. That, well, that I could manage no problem.

"Well, well, well. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I addressed Gay Kevin, hoping to also neutralize Jasper. Mr. Emotional Roofie was another obstacle here, trying to goad my coworkers so that they emotionally overwhelm him was my best shot. "Showing up two hours late to your shift with no warning?"

Gay Kevin looked exhausted.

"Please, not in front of the customers," he sounded embarrassed. Not Kevin snorted and took the interruption as an opportunity to make Milkshake boy his drink and get away from Alice. Meanwhile, Straight Kevin hopped over the counter and directly headed towards the old fries – if we didn't do our duty to eat them, they would be thrown out.

I also took notice of the guy that came in with the Kevins; he was shorter than Gay Kevin but slightly taller than Straight Kevin, he had thick black hair, but more importantly, he carried a video camera with him. He observed us, brown eyes full of amusement, and I sincerely hoped he was a vlogger.

"They aren't customers," I chirped with a predatory smile.

"I am a one though," Milkshake boy frowned. I waved him off.

"You're Not Kevin adjacent. You don't count," Gay Kevin looked increasingly irritated despite Jasper's attempt at giving chill vibes. He crossed his arms.

"So, what's this? You decide to throw a party while I was gone?"

I was about to retort when Alice interrupted me. I glared.

"There IS a party involved, but not here and not right now. Alice Cullen, nice to meet you, I'm –"

"Resentment's sister," Alice scrunched up her nose but nodded.

"Yup! And I came here to personally invite you, other Kevin, and Not Kevin to Nessie's party"

"You said you were born on 9/11," Straight Kevin's said accusingly with a mouth full of fries.

"It's not a birthday party," Alice tried to clarify, only to be drowned out by Not Kevin.

"You were born on 9/11?" I turned to address him and realized he was making Milkshake boy a chocolate shake, ruining all the hard work I put into my performance. Today was definitely not my day.

"I mean, yeah, but not like 9/11 9/11. I'm only 16," Not Kevin nodded but then his eyes widened as a realization seemed to hit him.

"Oh fuck. I forgot that was 20 years ago…"

"I wasn't even born 20 years ago," Straight Kevin added and it seemed to act as a punch to Not Kevin's gut.

"God, you guys are babies. I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten early and being glued to the news for the rest of the day," Gay Kevin's statement also appeared to have a negative effect on Not Kevin, making him look even more miserable. Camera man looked like there was no place he rather be. Alice, well, she looked endlessly irritated.

"I feel so old" Not Kevin whispered, shell-shocked.

"You are old. What are you, like 50?" Not Kevin glared at me.

"What's 9/11?"

I blinked. Everyone went quiet and stared at Milkshake boy, who looked very confused. No one spoke for a full beat.

"Jack's 19 and, uh, Canadian," Not Kevin shrugged helplessly and said as if that explained everything. He handed the kid his milkshake.

"Hey, I thought there weren't any Oreos –"

"ANYWAY," Alice said loudly and we all looked at her, "it's not a birthday party. It's more like a celebration of Nessie's first job. Our family would love to have all of you for dinner"

"She means that we'd love to have you at the event. Not that we want to eat you for dinner," Jasper added unnecessarily and made me want to face palm. So, I did.

"I wasn't worried about possible cannibalism when she said it, but now I am," Straight Kevin took a wary step away from Jasper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"There will be plenty of free food and you can take as many leftovers as you want with you," Straight Kevin seemed to seriously consider this.

"I'm in," Alice handed him a pink envelope and smiled. Fuck.

Improvise.

"Speaking of customers. We have one right now," I pointed at Camera man, "so we can't deal with you right now," I tried to push Alice out the store but she held her ground.

"I'm also not a customer," he shrugged, "I came for the rats"

Shit.

"Tài…don't do this" Gay Kevin pleaded.

"My hands are tied. I promised my audience," so he was some sort of vlogger. This was admittedly the only good thing that has happened today.

"See, he's not a customer. I can stay," I groaned at Alice's smug tone.

"Technically, you're both loitering. So, neither of you should stay"

"I agree with the Assistant Manager"

Alice and I stared down at each other while Camera man and Gay Kevin had a silent conversation with their eyes. For the next while, the only sounds that could be heard in the restaurant were Straight Kevin loudly chewing, Milkshake boy slurping, and Olivia Rodrigo's drivers license playing on the speakers.

Suddenly, Not Kevin snapped his fingers, drawing our attention to him.

"You know, it occurs to me that since both Kevins are finally here, I can take my break. Come on Jack, I'm taking you home," he quickly made his way around the counter and grabbed Milkshake boy. "I'll make sure to call if I'm somehow two hours late," I smirked at Alice as her eyes narrowed. I greatly encouraged any action that made her look like that.

Milkshake boy tilted his head and didn't let himself be dragged out of the joint. I had half a mind to help Not Kevin.

"But dad said to –"

"Your dad will be ok with this as long as you don't set the house on fire. Again" Milkshake boy frowned.

"It happened once. I said I was sorry"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on bud, time's ticking"

Finally, that seemed to get Milkshake boy moving and heading to the door.

"Don't forget your invite!" Alice called out.

"We're good," Not Kevin responded with a hand on the door and the other pulling the teen along.

"Did I mention there will be a fondue fountain?"

Not Kevin hesitated by the door and I could only feel horror as my stomach dropped. Not Kevin was weak for cheese and cheese related by-products.

"Chocolate or cheese?"

"Both," I held my breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair.

"Shame, I'm on a diet"

"You aren't –"

And they were both gone before Milkshake boy could finish calling out Not Kevin's blatant lie. I fist bumped the air and stuck my tongue out at Alice, fully intending to gloat over this minor victory.

That is, until I saw Alice smiling.

Fucking psychics.

"What's got you so smug," I snarked, hoping to get a hint of whatever vision she just had. She smirked and I could tell she could see right through me. So much for not playing chess with psychic.

"I had a sudden revelation that everything will be alright," her eyes twinkled with mischief and, not for the first time, I was very jealous of Edward. Why the fuck did he get the mind reading powers? Tactile thought projection was so stupid and useless the majority of the time.

"You're so fucking annoying"

"I prefer the term persistent," I'd prefer if she was set on fire. "Which reminds me, hey boys"

Camera man and Gay Kevin stopped doing whatever the hell they were doing and paid attention to Alice, who was holding up one her dumb little pink envelopes.

"What do you say, a chance to eat fancy rich people food and see some fancy rich people cars," Camera man turned to Gay Kevin.

"Babe"

"Is this like, appropriate. Professionally speaking," Gay Kevin scrunched up his nose trying to figure out the etiquette of this weird ass situation.

"I'm more than happy to take you guys on a spin in my brand-new Bugatti"

"Babe"

"Why does this feel like bribery?" Gay Kevin narrowed his eyes at Alice, he seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Because it is," I growled and attempted to set Alice on fire with my stare.

"And I fully admit it. I just want to throw a good party, and guest are a very important part," she stretched out her hand towards Camera man, "think about it, that's all I ask"

Camera man and Gay Kevin shared a look, and Camera man grabbed the envelope. Ugh.

"Wonderful! Remember to R.S.V.P., we'll leave you to it," she waved and grabbed Confederate hubby.

They walked away and I could hear Alice speak, her voice far too low for human ears, but just the right volume for me.

"There's been a change of plans, we're meeting up Esme"

I scowled. I knew it was bait, I knew Alice wanted me to hear her, and it was driving me insane. Why would they need to see Esme? Why would Alice want me to know this?

I fucking hated my life.

[ezrasarm]

Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day

I know, I know, I’m a little late to the party but I spent all of yesterday trying to actually finish and post a fic for once so I’m hoping you’ll forgive me for the delay 😂

Part 1 - THANK YOU!!!

(yes there are multiple parts to this so strap in)

I would like to start off with a huge thank you to those of you who thought of me and tagged me in those beautiful heartfelt messages! @a-seeker-of-imagination @adikaofmandalore @lola-wolf @agirllovespasta @oloreaa @din-damn-djarin @littlevodika @mrschiltoncat @cinewhore and @mindless--ramblings @plexflexico @imalovernotahater I’m looking at all of you 👀

I was just talking to @din-damn-djarin and @chaotic-noceur this morning about how theoretically (although heaven knows this isn’t always the case) writing should be something we do for our own enjoyment. To blow off steam, to let our imagination run wild, to have some form of creative output in our life, to feel productive, to make yourself happy, to make other people happy, etc. Whatever your reasons for writing, your own enjoyment of the process and content should be very high on that list. It’s very easy to get dragged down the rabbit hole of fixating on the number of notes and reblogs and comments we get on our work. And that’s great! If we’re gonna post this stuff it is endlessly gratifying and humbling to receive validation and appreciation for the hours upon hours of work that we put into it for absolutely no charge. But it’s not everything. It’s moments like these that remind me why I keep coming back. Knowing that I have a network of amazing, talented and supportive writers and readers, mutuals and friends who look forward to hearing from me and what I’m making next. That was never something I expected to gain by starting this blog but I am endlessly thankful to all of you for it.

Okay I think my point got away from me and I just wound up turning into a big mushy ball off feelings but what I was trying to say was thank you so much for your support because none of us are under any obligation to give or receive it but it sure does make things seem a whole lot more worthwhile when we do.

Part 2 - Right Back Atcha!

On to the second portion of this post! Screaming at you all about how talented you are!

@vercopaanir The Lovely Moons

TLM was among the first fics I read when I joined this fandom and I have loved every bit of watching your characters grow and overcome new challenges in every sense of the term. Every time I sit down to read a chapter I’m astounded by the professionalism and artistry you use to maneuver your craft because you are an artist. Reading it feels like it should be an actual print book that I can hold in my hand and turn pages in and write notes in the margins of all my favourite parts (’cause there are a lot). To think that you are author, editor and publisher all on your own while working still working blows me away!

@chaotic-noceur Scribbled Ink, To Be Human, Stanley

What can I say Kay? You write angst like no other. You are truly the angst queen but then you came along and you pulled a stunt like Scribbled Ink and excuse me? Who gave you permission to be both the queen of fluff and queen of angst?!?! You write such beautiful, heartfelt stories with concepts that are so raw and emotional and real and you do it with such finesse! I am constantly in complete awe of your writing!

@din-damn-djarin Find My Way Back To You, (Not So) Secret

Ploots, you magnificent bastard (there I said it)! I know you don’t believe me but I really do mean it when I say I love everything you’ve written with a passion. You come up with such astounding fic concepts and you characterize all the characters you write for so beautifully- I mean Frankie in FMWBTY??? You kept all my favourite parts of him but then you made him your own and it was astounding. I love that you’ve given me the privilege of being a part of your writing process and I have so much fun working on your fics with you!

@littleferal First Time Sleeping* Together

This series is bringing me life! I know I’ve already screamed at you but I love that you’ve looked at this very suggestible topic from the most innocent of viewpoints and explored the other forms that intimacy can take. That and they’re all just insanely cute and soft and fluffy and I love them!

@oloreaa Orbit

Rea!!!!! Our adopted tumblr child (except you’re not a child)! Somehow everything you write manages to be so soft and so cute and so fluffy it makes me feel like I'm about to spontaneously combust! You write Din cuddles for crying out loud! What more could anyone ask for than our big beautiful tin can to wrap them up in his arms and never let go? You write these moments with such a warmth and softness and intimacy thats hard not to fall in love with.

@starryeyedstories All Of Me

I still can’t get over how beautifully written All Of Me is! It just does things to me! It will always be way up at the top of my list of favourite Din fics! Your writing just makes me want more and I am seriously considering rewatching all the Star Wars sequels so I can read all your Poe stuff now. It is that good!

@aerynwrites What They Don’t Know

I don’t know what you did but I blame you entirely for my love of Paz Vizla now. It is seriously all your fault (and I love you for it). You are an amazing writer! Simple as that and you have so much beautiful content that I have yet to read. What you do for this fandom does not go unnoticed!

@agirllovespasta Masterlist

Yes. Yes I am aware that I’ve just linked your entire masterlist but it’s simply because I want everyone to read everything you’ve ever written. I love you and you are talented and amazing even if I don’t remind you of that as often as I should!

@tintinwrites Unspoken

I will admit I haven’t read a whole lot by you yet but of what I have read I love the way you weave your sense of humor into everything, it doesn’t fail to bring a smile to my face. The sass in unspoken killed me and I’m still not over Din talking to the kid.

@alwaysbethewest A Light In Your Eye

You are SO. FREAKING. TALENTED. You get that balance of sentimental and playful so perfect and it makes me feel things! Your characterizations are on the nose, the way you describe settings to set the atmosphere of the scene is amazing and your imagery makes my brain explode a little. You’re an artist. 

@dindjarindiaries Bittersweet

If someone asked me to site one blog to get a good taste of this fandom I would without a doubt point them in your direction. You write so many of my favourite characters and you write them so. damn. well. I love seeing you pop up on my dash- which reminds me I just saw that you updated Bittersweet but I haven’t had time to read it since and it’s driving me a little crazy.

@a-seeker-of-imagination Masterlist

 Alright, so admittedly I’m awful and I haven’t actually read anything you’ve written yet but you’ve got a Peaky Blinders fic I’ve got my eye on and you write for Pedro so I’m eager to do so! I can already tell you have such a passion for writing that anything you’ve written is bound to be amazing!

There are so many more of you who deserve love and appreciation and recognition and I sincerely apologize if I have missed you out of this list but my brain is a mess and I have trouble keeping track of who has written what a lot of the time! 

Part 3 - An Announcement Of An Announcement 

This is me announcing that I will be announcing something fanfic writer appreciation adjacent... soon (actually I’m announcing a number of things soon) so you should keep your eyes peeled 👀👀👀

[joonsdiary]

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst  word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution. 

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards. 

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!” 

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.” 

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.” 

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his. 

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.  

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest. 

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.” 

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.” 

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen. 

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?” 

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.” 

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”   

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.” 

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.” 

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin. 

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with. 

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.” 

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck. 

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra. 

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off. 

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg. 

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.” 

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself. 

“Tell her, Jin.” 

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.” 

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?” 

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message. 

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.” 

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.” 

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.  

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.” 

“Oh? I should stick around, then.” 

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

                                      *  *  *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

                                      *  *  *

“Birthday?” 

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?” 

“Seriously?” 

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight. 

“1992.” 

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.” 

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.” 

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.” 

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number. 

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?” 

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?” 

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you. 

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face. 

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree. 

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?” 

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second. 

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.” 

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?” 

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted. 

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand. 

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.” 

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

[stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove]

Surviving The Walking Dead - Truth (Chapter 20)

Author: @stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Lydia, Magna, Negan, Beta, Alpha, Whisperer Terry, Whisperer Ben, Evan, Maggie Rhee, Ezekiel, Judith Grimes, RJ Grimes, Yumiko and Reader.

Summary: Y/n struggles with new and old feelings as her and Magna attempt to escape the Whisperers. Negan gives an epic apology and Daryl recovers from his wounds.

Note: All you who wanted to see more of Y/n and Negan, you’ll like this chapter. <3

Though the story line is greatly different and many changes have been made, a small amount of the dialogue in this chapter is the same as or is very similar to those that took place in AMC’s The Walking Dead Season 10 Episode 11. I do NOT take credit for those. 

Warning: Cursing, violence, sexual content, threatening dialogue, painful triggers/loss, vulgar remarks and quite a bit of fluff.

Chapter Twenty - Chapter Twenty-One

Lydia had just barely managed to pull Daryl from the old gas station and into the woods, as he was in and out of consciousness. They stumbled through the trees, where he finally collapsed underneath the trunk of a very large one. Luckily, it was out far enough from the recent danger. Lydia quickly tore off a piece of her blue and baggy long sleeve shirt and tied it around his bleeding thigh as tightly as her hands would allow. Daryl looked to her and only saw one thing; you. Things were blurry and the world was spinning, but he saw you none the less.

As he tried to keep his eyes open, he called out your name in his compromised mental state. “Y/n.” He mumbled, his voice fading as he finally lost control and let go of the world around him once again.

Everything went black.

Several hours later, Daryl woke in a panic. His head felt somewhat normal again after he recovered from all the blood loss.

Lydia put her hand on his chest to calm him and to force him to stay sitting. “Easy.” She said. He slowed his breathing and watched her tearing away anxiously at a pile of leaves in front of where she sat.

“How long have I been asleep?” Daryl questioned.

“Most of the day.”

He squinted his eyes at her in wonder, still feeling rather weak. “And you were just out here?” He asked.

“Yeah I left Alexandria, couldn’t stand it. I want to help. So I was watching you and then I was watching them. And then I was watching you and my mom.” She admitted, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

“Did you kill her?” Daryl asked, knowing Alpha wasn’t in the best shape either the last he saw of her.

“If it was your dad could you have?” She replied, her deep brown eyes quickly moving back and forth between his hooded blue ones.

______________________________

You had found it. The secret route the Whisperers would take in and out of the mine. It was well hidden, the entrance was small, very dark and behind a large boulder that took a lot of man power to move. You’d just traveled through it with them-still at the end of a rope, still their hostage. The outside world was blinding to your adjusting eyes. You were forced to sit in the dirt beside Magna as the two of you watched Beta pace uncomfortably in front of the caves. He was getting nervous.

“Somethings wrong. Alpha should’ve been here already and now he’s losing it.” You noted. Magna nodded in agreement while Negan leaned against a tree waiting and watching, unsure what the brute would want to do next without his leader to decide for him.

“Maybe you should go looking for her.” Negan suggested, trying to conjure up his own plan. Beta growled at him. “I mean, something obviously is keeping them.”

“Stop talking.” Beta enforced. Negan frowned. He hated how quiet these people were all the time. They didn’t talk or engage in each other at all. Truthfully, he was going a little crazy by the uncomfortable silence.

Magna watched the exchange, trying to prevent herself from wanting her fate to rest in Negan’s hands. She still couldn’t stand the guy but a part of her wondered if he’d be the cause of your escape and survival. “What’s he doing?” Magna leaned in and whispered in your ear.

“Fishing for a way to help us I imagine.” You responded. “He owes me.”

“I can’t believe he joined them. What do you think they’re up to? Are they gonna attack?” She wondered out loud.

“They’re gathering up the herd, so probably.” You both sighed, ultimately being distracted from your conversation by the sudden commotion of someone else’s. Beta was leaving.

“But, what about them?” One Skin asked, short in height and hiding behind his mask. He pointed to you and Magna.

“I don’t care!” Beta hollered, taking off with only a select few.

“I’ll watch them.” Negan offered. Beta shrugged it off as a few more of their people followed him back to the road. You rolled your eyes, unamused by whatever he had up his sleeve. He came and knelt down in front of you, smiling from ear to ear. “He may be big but he’s dumber than a god damn post.” He chuckled to himself.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, looking up to see the other less important Whisperers that stayed behind staring at the three of you endlessly. “You can’t help us. If they come back and we’re gone, they’ll know you can’t be trusted and our entire plan is ruined.” You said quietly. Magna instantly turned to you in question. She furrowed her brow and waited for more information.

“So what, you want me to let you die?” Negan said quietly but with more frustration in his voice.

“If that’s what it takes.” You answered while Magna shook her head intensely.

“Well that’s not gonna happen, obviously.” Negan scowled at you, noticing something was different. You didn’t have your usual spunk or determination. Your sparkling personality was immensely lacking.

“She doesn’t mean that. And what plan? Will someone tell me what’s happening?” Magna insisted. You shushed her, firmly placing your hand on her arm and lightly shaking your head. She huffed in response.

Negan stood and spun around, anxiously rubbing his hands together. “Well, everyone’s gotta piss at some point right? We’ll be right back.” He told his fake ally’s and grabbed the rope that was still attached to the both of you where your hands were tied. “Well come on then, we got shit to do.” Negan pulled forcefully. He brought you around the corner and further into the bushes to speak freely. The wind blew through your long y/h/c hair as you all came to an abrupt stop. “If you really do have to go, now’s the time.” Negan smiled as he tilted his head to further gawk at you. “Still wearing those pretty pink panties?” He teased. Magna’s eyes grew wide and you deadpanned him. Once again taking note of his infamous leather jacket he wore, much cleaner than the last time you’d saw him. Maybe the Whisperers had finally stopped testing him and let him in, it was a good sign. His hair was nicely pushed back and his smile was bright. He was handsome but he was still Negan. 

“I’m serious. They will kill you before you are able to kill her.” You insisted, letting Magna in on the plan since not having another choice. She let her mouth gape open in surprise and tried to hide it as she brought her tied hands up to scratch her nose, awkwardly.

“You really are a genius.” She put together. Negan winked.

“You can’t say anything to anyone.” You told her.

She huffed again. “Who the hell am I gonna tell when we’re clearly gonna die out here?”

Negan was trying to think on his toes, trying to ensure that wouldn’t happen. “Ladies, we don’t have long before someone comes checking in on us, so-”

“So, nothing. I told you they will kill you and this will have been for nothing.” You interrupted.

“Are you saying you care about what happens to me now? Or is this all still just part of your plan to save the folks back home?” Negan harassed. You locked eyes with him as he leaned in closer and watched your chest as it began to rise and fall heavily. He was making you more uncomfortable than the life threatening situation you were in. “Relax. I’ll be fine. And so will you.” Negan told you, placing his hand on yours and sliding his small pocket knife against your palm and within your grasp.

Magna watched closely. “Smooth.” She admitted. Negan kept his eyes on only you as you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his need to protect you.

“When the time is right.” He said, squeezing your hand and then letting go to take you back to the caves entrance. He shoved you back down where you sat before and tied your rope around a tree. Then he made his way back over to the group of Whisperers who were still awaiting the return of their leader.

“I get it now.” Magna said, blinking her eyes continuously at you. You turned to her, overly frustrated and confused. “He’s in love with you.” She pointed to where he stood with his arms crossed.

“What?” You hollered. “Negan doesn’t love anyone. He’s too in love with himself.” You grimaced.

Magna stared in disbelief. “Does Daryl know about this plan of yours?”

“No. I didn’t want anyone to know until it was done.” You admitted, looking to the ground with a heavy sigh. “Carol knows because she caught me leaving that night. And now you.” You told her honestly.

Magna readjusted herself, moving her legs out straight in front of her. You rested your hands in your lap, firmly gripping onto the knife Negan gave you. Your wrists were red and sore, as were hers. “What if Negan didn’t have that? Would you really just give up?” She asked you sincerely.

“I don’t know.” You admitted, letting a single tear fall and stain your dirt covered cheek.

“What about your baby?” She asked, concerned. You sniffled, took a big deep breath and thought a moment.

“You were right, I didn’t mean it. Okay?” You told her. She hesitantly nodded, thinking about her own heartache. Wondering whether she was still in a relationship or if she had anyone to go home to. She was sure you at least had that feeling in common.

_____________________________

About another hour had passed and it was all too quiet now, almost eerie as a heavy fog entered the forest. The sun was going down and it was quickly getting dark. Two men-Whisperers, who’d removed their masks stood guard now which was good because if Negan was the last to be watching you when you escaped he might be blamed. They looked you and Magna up and down for much too long, putting her on edge. She grunted and scowled at them.

“Ugh. Men are pigs.” She noted, disgusted. The taller one with messy long black hair bit his lip as he peered down your tank top. “Why don’t you just kill us already?” She asked, unable to take them staring anymore.

“Maybe we will.” The other man with a short graying beard told her. “Or we could have some fun first.” He grinned. Magna let out an exaggerated gag.

“Like Alpha says, we’re animals.” The black haired man agreed, laughing. Negan shook his head, wanting nothing more than to knock them both out.

“Hey, since when do any of you people talk so much?” He yelled at them. They chuckled.

“Since Alpha and Beta aren’t here to keep them in line. They’re weak, frightened men. That’s all.” You glared up at them while they instantly lost the smiles on their faces. “Don’t listen to them.” You turned to your friend.

Later that same, long night after many Whisperers had finally dozed off, Negan came and sat next to you. It was very dark and very cold. Magna rested her head back against a tree a little ways back and pretended to sleep as well. Your body was shivering uncontrollably now as you began putting Negan’s knife to use, planning to sneak away in the dead of the night. He stopped you though when he suddenly grabbed your hands and brought them to his mouth, blowing his warm breath onto them. You raised your eyebrows, a bit taken back by his kind gesture. You stared into his eyes while he continued to try and warm you. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” You said, slowly lowering your hands away from him and continuing to cut away at the rope.

“Not gonna say goodbye?” He asked, looking to your hands.

You shook your head, pulling away at the remaining rope and quietly handing the knife off to Magna. “You’re taking too long here.”

“I have to earn her trust. I’m not there yet, why can’t you just trust me?”

“Gee, I don’t know.” You hissed.

“Listen, Y/n. In all seriousness, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re here. I’d much rather you be safe some place far from here.” He told you.

“I know.” You sighed.

“And I’m sorry about everything else. I’m sorry about, you know, them all those years ago.” He said, referring to all the friends and family you lost back at the Sanctuary. You swallowed nervously, never expecting to hear a sincere apology from him. “Being locked up all those years, I had a lot of time to think. And the truth is, I fucked up. A lot. But I was always honest and true to one thing.” He shared, searching your eyes for several minutes before awkwardly looking down to his hands, wringing them uncomfortably. “I promise you now, when this is all done...and I will get it done, that I am indebted to you. Whatever you want, need I’ll get it for you. And I will not harm anyone that means something to you. Ever.”

“I wish I could believe you.” You gulped.

“I’ve never lied to you.” He quickly replied, smiling at you. He could see it on your face. Your cheeks red, your eyes glossy and your expression stoic. You cared for him, it wasn’t just about using him to save the others. “There’s a shack of some sort a few miles north from here. An old cabin more like, if you need some place to stop and rest. No one here knows about it to my knowledge. You’ll be safe there.” He stood up and reached his hand down to help you up. You looked at him the way you hadn’t looked at him since the beginning. It warmed his troubled soul. “They are gunning for Hilltop. Warn them.” He whispered. 

You nodded. “I still have to see this thing through. If you are able to get away for a minute to update me, meet me there.” You asked just as Magna stood up, now fully free of her ropes as well. He agreed and turned to walk away. “Negan.” You stopped him. “Try to meet me there. So I know you’re okay after we leave here.” You gulped.

He grinned. “Will do, Princess.”

________________________

The following morning, you spotted the cabin deep in the woods that Negan spoke of. He told the truth. You slowly entered it, holding Negan’s pocket knife high in the air; it being your only weapon now. 

Magna pulled at some spider webs near the front door as she followed you inside. “What are we doing here?” She asked. “I was all for getting as far away from those freaks as possible. But shouldn’t we warn Hilltop?” She asked.

“Yeah. You have to.”

“What? What about you?” She bellowed.

You shook your head and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m not ready to go back. I’m not sure I was before all this. Please go and warn them. You know where I am.”

“Y/n, Daryl thinks you’re dead.” She firmly pointed out.

You shrugged. “So tell him I’m not. By the time anyone comes looking for me again, it’ll all be over. I know it.” She sighed heavily and pulled you in for a hug.

Magna searched your worried eyes, her expression nearly matching yours. “I don’t like a lot of people. You are one of them, so please don’t be stupid.” She begged. You nodded with a smile and hugged her back.

“Go. Seriously.” You grinned and watched her leave on a new mission. Magna had become a friend and you didn’t want to lose that but you were more focused on this plan with Negan than ever.

_________________________

Back at the Whisperer camp, Negan woke to find Alpha had returned. Standing in one piece, staring down at him. 

“Shit.” Negan jumped. “You shouldn’t wake somebody standing over them like that.” He said, standing up. “Glad to see you’re alright, I was getting worried.” He grinned, flirtatiously. 

Alpha scowled at him, raising her right eyebrow and placing her hands behind her back. “Beta tells me we had some stragglers from the caves.” She began. Negan nodded. “Where are they now?” 

Negan played dumb. His acting was beyond brilliant. He spun to the tree where your severed ropes still laid on the forest floor. He pointed and then looked back in fake utter confusion. “Terry and his little sidekick were on guard last. Clearly, they did an excellent job of that, damn it. I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed up watching them.” He told her. She eyed him and sighed. 

“Fine. We are leaving for Hilltop soon, we will put an end to them there.” She told him. “Help gather the horde.” Negan nodded, secretly terrified she might still suspect him. But for now, he was safe. He still feared he might have to do something extreme to fully earn her trust back.  

“I’m ready for my skin suit. I am all in.” Negan told her. “So, let me be in.” He shrugged. 

Alpha smiled, gratefully. “Go with Beta. I have a meeting with Ben and Terry.” She smirked, preparing to punish them. Negan was more than okay with letting those perverts take the fall. 

By that afternoon, Negan had his mask. He roamed the area watching others collect loads of sap from the surrounding trees. He was bored and pretending to help gather more of the dead to join the herd that would surely take out Hilltop in just a few short hours. 

He swung his bat around proudly. “So uh, what’s with the sap? Some sort of fire starter?” He asked Beta who led the group collecting it. But he only grunted in response, always a man of few words. 

__________________________

Several hours had passed back at Hilltop. Daryl and Lydia had safely returned to rest and allow his leg to heal. They saw Alpha and Beta reunite on their journey home, not knowing they’d just missed you.That evening, he sat alone on a table outside near the line of occupied trailers. He was quietly brooding over his losses while the people slept soundly in their homes with their families. Most of them anyway. He stared into space, lost in thought as Maggie appeared from the shadows and approached him cautiously. She looked down at his wrapped leg. “I’m sorry about before. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She told him. 

He sighed as she grabbed his upper arm, squeezing it gently to comfort him. “We’ll have to talk about her, all of it eventually.” Daryl mumbled to her before they both fell distracted by figure running towards them. As he slowed his pace and stopped in front of them, they could now see it was Evan struggling to catch his breath. 

“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked, frightened.

“Magna.” He said in between pants. Daryl instantly stood up. “She’s here.” He said, gesturing for them to follow. As the three of them came to the main house, there she was sitting on the steps next to Yumiko. But it was only her-you were no where in sight. Daryl’s heart pounded in his chest as he hesitated to go any farther. 

Her face was covered in blood and she instantly felt saddened by the sight of Daryl approaching. “We kept pushing. Searching.” She began, locking eyes with Yumiko. “And then we separated.” She added. “I had to blend in.” She explained how the blood on her face was not her own. “We both got out and were held hostage by the Whisperers. Negan’s with them now.” She let slip out, then hung her mouth open not wanting to say anymore. “They’re coming here. The horde wasn’t far behind me.”

“And Y/n?” Daryl asked with a harsh swallow. 

“She told me to come warn you, I don’t know. But she’s alive.” She replied. Daryl let his shoulders fall in relief.

“Get the others. We’ll evacuate the kids first.” Maggie ordered.

“They are too close for that. There’s no way we’d make it anywhere in time.” Magna shook.

“Then we fight.” Lydia appeared out of nowhere. Daryl looked to her and smiled. Both feeling a little better after hearing you were okay. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “You two.” He pointed to Magna and Lydia. “Come with me.” They followed him inside rather quickly. “Wait here, please?” He asked before disappearing up the stairs. Daryl came back with Judith and RJ who’d been staying here the last few days with Aaron and his daughter while Michonne remained at Oceanside. People were panicking, running in and out looking for their loved ones. Daryl caught a glimpse of Ezekiel and called after him, then ran to meet him on the front porch. “I need you to take the three of them to Earl before we start this. Maggie has him watching the rest of the kids.” Ezekiel nodded. “If one of us doesn’t make it out of this fight-”

“Then the other will go find the kids.” The King agreed completely. Daryl patted him on the back in thanks and returned to the living area inside.

Daryl crouched down in front of little Judith. “Promise me something.” He said to her. “If Ezekiel comes to find you after the fight you go with him, again. You and your brother, okay?” Judith hesitantly nodded. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” She said firmly.

“Maybe I am, a little bit.” Daryl admitted honestly to everyone in the room. 

The young girl readjusted her sheriff’s hat and folded her arms tightly across her little chest. “But if I was, maybe I would be scared for RJ because he’s so little.” She sighed. 

“I get that.” Daryl replied.

“Maybe I’d be worried about my mom. Or I’d be afraid you’d get hurt and I’d lose you.” She looked to her feet. Daryl leaned in and hugged her tightly as she wiped away a few tears. Daryl rubbed her back gently, feeling torn between her and finding out more about you. He always thought he would never be brave enough to have kids of his own-especially not in this world. But even still, with a father like his and the way he was raised, he never felt like he was good enough. He always figured it would be kinder of him to not. He’d also watched Carol lose not one, but two and he witnessed Rick struggle to keep his safe time and time again before he died. He never felt he had it in him, watching after their kids was hard enough. But when he hugged little Judith just then, thinking about you-something about it instantly felt a little different. For family, for you-with you he would do just about anything. He finally let go and smiled at her, then pointed to Ezekiel. “Wait.” She said, reaching for his vest that sat on the arm of the couch next to Magna. “I made you something. It’s for luck.” She said, holding his iconic leather vest high in the air, showing off her latest art project. She had painted on his missing angel wing. It was different shades of blue and white and matched perfectly, looking better than it ever did.

Daryl smiled uncomfortably. “No way.” He brought his hand to his mouth with a smile. He felt happier than he had in days. “I love it.” He finally said, slipping it back on to wear for the battle, as she clearly intended. “How does it look?” He asked, spinning around to show it off. Judith finally giggled.

“It looks good.” She agreed. He smiled back and got closer, looking the small girl in the eyes. 

“Promise?” He asked her again. She nodded. “Give me another hug.” Daryl said as he brought her in close and looked up to Lydia next. 

“You too.” Daryl added as he stood up straight, tapping the teens forearm. 

She instantly frowned. “What? I saved your life yesterday!” Lydia cried, throwing her arms down to her sides. 

“And now I’m saving yours.” He said, pulling her in for a hug. He held her tight, needing to keep her safe from this as well. He knew it would be entirely too much. She let out a big regretful sigh in his ear before finally letting go and leaving with Judith, who took her little brothers hand. Daryl watched them disappear into the night with Ezekiel. He then remained a little dazed, staring long after they’d been gone.

“You aren’t leaving?” Magna asked. Daryl shook his head and limped his way over to sit next to her on the couch for a moment. 

“I can’t yet. I’m gonna fight. But before I do that I need you to tell me everything.” Daryl stated. “If Y/n stayed out there and she knows what’s coming, she might do something stupid. Something that gets her killed. Do you know where she is?” He pleaded. She ultimately nodded, trying to decide whether to tell Daryl the entire story. 

____________________________________

@jodiereedus22 @dashesoflipstick @theunofficialduke @dixonluvv@nikki082489 @jordangdelacruz​ @lunatheumbreon @dbtvluv​I @letsstarsfalling​ @escaping-reality-22 

Let me know if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters (:

Thanks for reading! 

I hope you are enjoying my version of this story. Sensing a love triangle yet??

Yes, I changed this into it’s own chapter instead of doing two parts like I was originally planning. I ended up going a different direction and I think it works better this way. 

Next time: A fiery battle at Hilltop, an unforgettable reunion and an intense moment between Y/n and Negan.

ANDDD let me know what you thought of this chapter here —–>

<<Chapter 19, >>Chapter 21

[yeoldontknow]

Again (M)

Author’s Note: a kofi request for @gingersaysjump who wanted ‘boyfriend min reminding me my brain is not broken, that i am not merely the sum of my accomplishments, and hot mindblowing sex.’ i hope this fits the bill, i kind of changed the sex part because it felt vvv important for it to merely be female receiving so! hope this is ok!  Pairing: Minseok x Reader (oc; female) Genre: fluff; angst; smut; au Summary: Anxiety holds us the strongest in the night. You know this. You are used to it. You think you’re pretty good at hiding these things from the people you love most. Your boyfriend is here to remind you, you are not. And, that being vulnerable is almost always synonymous with strength. Rating: NC-17 Warnings: explicit sexual situations; explicit language; oral sex (female receiving, male giving); anxiety; aggressive thoughts directed @ self Word count: 6,771

It is the first time you have been unable to sleep with him beside you. 

Tucked beneath the blankets, Minseok sleeps, lips set in a small pout and pushed forward from the angle of his cheek against the pillow. His hand lingers at the border between your side and his, expectant and ready for your skin. Almost imperceptibly, his fingers twitch, needy and disappointed by the unbearable lack of you. 

Normally, your body finds his automatically, pulled towards him like gravity. Normally, the sound of his breath against your neck, your shoulder, your hair, sets an even rhythm for your lungs, pulling you heart first to exhaustion. Normally, he is your balm against the world and nothing, and no one, has ever soothed you so completely.

It is the first time you can’t sleep with him beside you. 

And it is this, the fact that you are restless even amidst his warmth, that upsets you most. Because this, whatever weight and trauma that lingers in the fibers of your muscles, is not about him. Yet still, it churns inside you, curving your spine until you are small and pushing yourself away, terrified of watching it spread and burn him too. A chasm has formed within the bed, staining the sheets and the mattress, tarnishing even him - the one thing you wanted to keep sacred. 

Knees pushed up to your chest, you consider the way your mind hurts. There’s a loudness to the way you judge, critique, and antagonize yourself. Sometimes, you can convince yourself it’s for the betterment of your skills, that pushing yourself is what makes you a fierce competitor - someone worth working and partnering with. Sometimes, you remind yourself you deserve it, because the inherent wrongness of you and your actions never matches the way you envision yourself. Delusional, you think, how you ever could have imagined you would be the best - at anything.

Sighing, you reach for your headphones on the nightstand, plugging them into your phone. Your eyes don’t squint at the brightness of the screen, having stared endlessly at the light of the full moon beyond your window. Your neck hurts, and so do your eyes, mostly on the right side and mostly underneath your cheeks, where bags have formed diligently over the last few weeks. 

Guided meditation is supposed to help. You don’t remember who told you this. Following along, a deep inhale makes you want to cough, but you hold it in, struggling in the effort of remaining quiet so as not to wake him. The guide counts out the seconds, tone gentle and encouraging, as if the moments you are aware you exist are bearable and weightless. Frustrating. You hate it. Closing the video, you open the app that’s meant to help you sleep. Rain sounds on leaves play as white noise, frustrating, too, the way the sound does not match the weather outside. Thunder rolls. You feel like you may have to pee. Annoying.

Heaving a sigh, you remove your headphones and put your phone to sleep, jealous that it does so obediently, and with little persuasion. You close your eyes and run your hands through your hair, grinding your teeth against your tongue as your mind rattles, stubborn and relentless. 

You knew how to answer the question in the meeting, but still you hesitated and they all saw your ignorance - the insecurity of it all, you’re better than that. Minseok saw you blink too long, forgetting the order of making coffee when it should be thoughtless, automatic. 

Your presentation at work was underprepared - you had so much time to work on it, and that’s all you could manage? 

He doesn’t love you, you’re just comfortable. You’re a fun past time, not a forever. You owe so much money on your credit card, you will never pay it off. Do you hear all this? You are worthless. Worthless. Worthless.

‘Worthless.’

It spills over your lips, a wet whisper of malcontent that wracks your chest with an uneven, suppressed sob. Fingers tightening in your hair, you press the base of your palms into the side of your head, hoping for silence. It’s too late at night for this kind of shit, you tell yourself. Too late at night and too early in the morning to think any sleep you could come by would be restorative. 

‘Worthless, useless idiot.’

You’re stronger than this, and you have been through this before. All you have to do is make it an hour, maybe even ninety minutes, and this will pass enough for you to be over it, to tell yourself confidently to be quiet, to go to sleep, and to worry about it in the daylight when the aggression is a little less loud. 

‘You’re better than this. Don’t be so weak.’

Abruptly, a hand snakes beneath your shirt, pads of delicate fingers stroking gently and languidly at your side. With a small gasp, you turn and face Minseok, greeted by his eyes glittering in the moonlight. Resting his head on his elbow, he leans on his side and smiles, soft and passive, pressing mindless patterns into your skin. Hair falls into his eyes, messy and tousled from sleep, stopping your heart long enough to catch your breath.

You hold onto his arm, relishing the mindless relief that comes from touching him. Your thumb mirrors the patterns he makes, luxuriating in the supple skin at the crook of his elbow. ‘Did I wake you baby?’ 

‘Yes,’ he whispers, though his tone does not demand an apology. He simply continues to smile, glad to be sharing these hours of the night with you. ‘How long have you been up?’

Your gaze moves from his face to the wall behind him, staring blankly at the empty expanse of white. ‘I don’t know,’ you shrug. 

Sitting up, he crosses his legs and removes his hand from your side, pushing himself closer to you. Almost instantly, his warmth radiates into you, relaxing the muscles of your spine and shoulders. Wrapping your arms around your knees, you hum as your stumble into comfort, always surprised by the effect he has on you. 

Minseok walks his hand over your lower back, pulling you flush against him and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. ‘If we’re going to get married,’ he begins, voice thick with sleep, ‘you have to let me up there from time to time.’

Glancing down to your left hand, your vision refocuses as your engagement ring catches the light, glimmering with pride. Proof. Undeniable proof. Your finger twitches, feeling the weight of the band against your knuckle, a tangible weighted experience that functions as a tether. Turning back to him - to his kind eyes and his encouraging closeness - you frown apologetically.

‘I don’t want you to be entangled in all of my shit.’ The words come out cold, matter of fact in a way that sounds clinical. Instinctively you nuzzle closer, hoping that a knowing, if not comfortable, silence is enough. 

Humming in consideration, Minseok clinches closer until there is no space between your ribs and his. Languidly, he inhales the scent of your hair deep into his lungs, lips curled in pleasure. He holds it in his chest momentarily, refusing to exhale the essence of you, before chucking quietly as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

‘I asked to be entangled around the time I asked you to move in,’ he clarifies, lips shaping the words against your hair. 

Glancing back your knees, you smile, knowing well that it is neither genuine nor heartfelt. Ashamed of letting him see the emptiness of you, you turn your attention to your knees, choosing offer their imperfections your attention. Dissatisfied, Minseok nudges you sweetly and continues.

‘Which, by the way, was before I asked you to be my wife.’ Minseok accentuates the word wife by guiding his nose along your cheekbone. ‘But if we’re talking about entanglement, then I demanded it when I got down on one knee.’ 

He pulls his hands away, leaving you wanting and craving as a small whine escapes your chest from the sudden lack of contact. It dies swiftly, relief flooding your synapses as he cups your face, palms hot and hold confident, turning your face until your vision is flooded with nothing but him. The change in his expression is startling, jaw locked and brow furrowed, eyes more serious than you could ever remember them being. 

‘I want to fight for you.’ 

His sincerity is overwhelming, the conviction of his words running your tongue dry. He means it, means it down the marrow of his bones, and this sort of intensity feels terribly heavy for this hour of the night. In contrast to the heaviness of your mind, his words have a colour and a flavor which kiss adrenaline into your system - exciting, rather than burdening, your blood. 

Beneath the fire of his request, it almost feels childish to speak. 

‘It’s stupid,’ you say, offering him a grateful, yet sheepish, smile. ‘A lot of it is so stupid.’

‘Don’t be so dismissive,’ he counters, awake and alert. ‘Say it out loud.’ His gaze wanders over your face, taking you in freely. He studies the chapped texture of your lips, the droop that lives at the corner of your eyes, and the exhaustion that lingers within your pores. ‘Sometimes you have to say it in order to hear how truly stupid it is.’

Minseok finishes speaking with a harshness and an urgency that tastes bitter, an announcement that he knows. Minseok knows you, and knows you well enough to hold the judgement you cast over yourself at the same time he holds you, and with the same confidence. He knows you - knows that you often think of yourself as a summation of wrongness, incorrect parts stitched together in the effort of making a person. And he knows, most of all, that when given the option to open yourself wide alongside the option of pushing yourself away until you are small enough to no longer appear wrong, then you will choose the latter, even if he is the one asking to kiss your stitches. 

The breath in your lungs trembles, and you swallow thickly, studying his face and accepting that you love him without letting the questions in. ‘Not all of it is stupid,’ you concede, brow furrowed in the effort of keeping your voice even. 

‘I know,’ he says, voice soothing and calm, unsurprised by the implication. ‘Start with the actual stupid things first.’ Bringing his hands to your arms, he massages the tension he finds with slow, languid movements. ‘We can do down the list.’

This is not the first time he has done this - held you through your panic and demanded to be let in. This is not the first time you have told him what keeps you awake at night, letting yourself be held and letting yourself be nurtured. And it is because this is not the first time he has done this, not the first time you have woken him in the night and been needy, frail and weak, you idly wonder if you deserve this at all - if you deserve it again.

In your silence, Minseok lets his hand trace circles on your knee, focusing his attention on you so intently your chest begins to flush. 

‘Baby,’ he encourages, dropping another kiss to your head with a gentle touch. 

Biting your lip, you nod, gathering the strength to feel ridiculous in front of the only man you’ve ever loved, hoping that your contemptuous blush is not visible at this angle. 

‘That pitch I worked on for the difficult client?’ You say the words slowly, testing his memory of the weeks you spent awake late at night, often until the first streaks of dawn, eyes blurring against the glow of a computer screen; the nights he slept on the couch beside you, keeping you company, choosing to be uncomfortable rather than separated.

Minsok hums, nodding his head slightly in acknowledgement as he kisses at your temple once more. 

‘I keep thinking about how it could have been better,’ you admit in a rush, staring straight ahead without truly seeing at all. ‘There was…so much I could have done better.’

Minseok shrugs, neither nonchalant nor apathetic, just accepting of the flow of time. ‘Everything could have been better,’ he muses, pulling away slightly to fix you with a compassionate stare. Your cheeks flood with heat beneath his gaze, aware and wanting and alive, but still you do not look at him. ‘Besides,’ he continues, ‘that client chose your pitch. No harm no foul. And your next presentation will be better than this one. People are always improving. You’re your only competition.’

‘I hesitated,’ you continue, not bothering to stop and talk through his advice. ‘At work - in the boardroom - there was an important question about marketing projections and I...I paused.’ 

‘Why did you pause?’

‘Because I thought I was wrong.’ Frustrated with the memory, your hands fist in the flannel of your pants, brow furrowing with tension. You continue speaking so that your mind cannot. ‘No one else was speaking or answering.’

He releases a noise of pride and understanding, a bewildering sound that almost makes you face him, but you remain still. To see him is to break, to be slowly unmade from the inside, and you are not ready for such a display of weakness. Not yet.

‘No one else is as brave as you,’ he says, words kissed full of adoration and affection. 

You cannot stomach them, shaking your head as you recall everyone’s stone faced expression in your silence and the way the room hummed, expecting you to keep up. ‘They think I’m stupid.’

‘You are absolutely not stupid.’ It’s the loudest he’s been all night, shaking you gently as though to pull through from your skin. ‘Especially not if you were right.’

You shake your ahead again. ‘Then they think I’m a know it all, and that’s somehow worse.’ 

Again, he shrugs, not budging on his argument. ‘Well you do know more than them,’ he persists. ‘It’s their fault they don’t bother to be better or try harder.’

‘I forgot how to make coffee.’

He stiffens, startled by the abrupt way you nearly cut him off. It’s not that it’s horrible, not even something worth mentioning, it’s merely that he’s seen you, in a single moment of weakness, forgetting what it means to be a functional person. And then, he saw the aftermath, the pure moment of rage and cursing, brief but just as cataclysmic as a thunderstorm; a violent display you never wanted him to witness, something he never deserved. You are better than this, you told yourself - are <i>still</i> telling yourself - and he deserves more.

But Minseok laughs, confused and uncertain, humoured by the insignificance of such a statement. ‘What?’ he questions through his laughter. He means it to be a comfort, an acknowledgement that this kind of worry is unimportant, and ranked among others simply because it is a thing to do. You almost agree, almost laugh with him, but you remember, with a grimace, how his eyes on you as you struggled with the filter made your hands shake and your nerves hurt. 

‘Three days ago,’ you state, voice almost robotic. Briefly, you bite at your cheek, fighting off the urge to face him. ‘In the morning. I couldn’t remember how to fill the machine. You were watching me.’

Sucking air between his teeth, he shakes his head. ‘Admiring is the word you were looking for.’ His hands strokes at your hair, hand pressing at the base of your neck and squeezing in a light massage. ‘Once, I put salt instead of sugar into my coffee and nearly passed out at work from the lack of caffeine. It was undrinkable.’

The memory of that day springs to mind, though you were not involved - you didn’t even know him. He’s told you, many times - during nights like these, when your mind presses at your skull and forces you to see and see and see; mornings when he makes coffee and you remain in bed, post orgasm and  unwilling to leave; when he’s drunk, telling the story over and over as though it were unbelievable, as though it were improbable he would ever forget.

And so you smile, finally, cheeks stinging with the sincerity of it, and lean your head on his shoulder. You hope that this is enough for your mind. You know that it isn’t. 

‘Any other stupid things we can laugh at?’ Minseok cradles you close, wrapping you in his arms with a force that reminds you that you are his - you are his and you matter. 

‘No.’ Closing your eyes, you luxuriate in the feeling of him, wishing that things could stay quiet like this - this pure moment when there is nothing but him, his cologne, the detergent on his shirt, and the strength in his hands. Nothing in life is ever that simple, but still, you wish. 

‘Then tell me what’s really wrong.’

You squeeze your eyes together, thoughts racing and warring together as you struggle to decide. It’s easy to stay silent, gripped by the cruelty of your mind because you are used to it. You know the ins and outs of you, the ugliness and the insensitivity. You’re practiced in handling yourself, and you know how the night will go if you remain quiet. 

You will not sleep, but he will. You will greet the dawn with the same vacant expression as you met the moon, and he will wake, knowing without questioning, letting you slip through the day burdened by one more measure of guilt. But you will go to work, and you will appear normal and fine, and successful, and no one will question the hollow angle of your cheeks. You are used to this. This is comfortable. 

But if you tell him, if you truly express the most important worries of all - the things that cannot be solved, that truly showcase the problem of you, then he will know. He will know, and there will be change, and he will never look at you with the same unfettered tenderness again. You will be pulled open, chest raw in the exposure of your beating heart - the blackened brown of the muscle that has suffered through the severity of your existence. He will see it, the entire truth, the sheer horror of you, and he will know. And nothing, not even the hold of his hands, will ever feel the same. 

But he will have the option choose - to stay, to leave, to help, to ignore - it does not matter, he will get to choose. And he deserves that, you think. So you speak, for him if not for yourself. 

‘I…’ Your voice trails off, attempting to fail and back down so soon after your tongue held bravery. Taking a deep breath, you begin again. ‘I don’t know how to pay off my credit card.’ Keeping your eyes closed, you wait in the blackness and the silence, waiting for him to release you. He does not. ‘Money is...I don’t make enough. Rent takes so much of it and other bills and the wedding, I just…’ You pause again, and still he does not let go. ‘There has to be more to living than what I owe.’

Minseok does not let go. He simply breathes, even and calm as though you said nothing at all, and strengthens his hold. ‘A lot of people struggle with money, baby.’ Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he kisses the skin he finds, the heat of his breath raising gooseflesh along your arms. ‘You’re not alone there. I know it’s rough, really fucking rough. I mean, me, too,’ he laughs, sheepish. ‘It’s why we’re taking our time with planning the wedding, so we can do it right without regretting it. But we can make a budget, if you’re very stressed about it.’ 

Beneath the practicality of his words lies the ardor that he carries for you, a genuine, real life concern that turns his words from advice to unwavering support and devotion. The air in your lungs begins to ache, chest burning with emotion as he continues to hold you, body rocked back and forth to soothe you. It’s a shameful thing to admit, but trust was never an issue. You would have told him, soon and likely during dinner, wanting to work with him to build a life and a plan. Something about that, you think, is romantic beyond compare.

But his response, this kind of commitment and dedication, is what you fear losing most. Because even these, these common, human woes about money, and finances, and comparison to an arbitrary credit score, are not the worst thought you have had. 

‘This is the kind of thing you can always tell me, should tell me, my love,’ he whispers, kissing and kissing until his words are difficult to comprehend. ‘We’re sharing a life together, not just a bed.’ 

The tears spill, hot and heavy on your cheeks, though you don’t know when you had started to cry, imagining they should dissolve off your skin from the heat beneath your skin. Your chest burns, oxygen becoming coal as you struggle to keep calm and to not let him see. Fisting your hands in your sweater, you furrow your brow and attempt to keep still, trembling instead with the effort.

‘Hey,’ he whispers, shock hurrying his motions to turn you. ‘I didn’t know it was causing you so much stress.’

He shifts, angling your waist so you are facing him, distancing his torso from yours. Hugging yourself, you open your eyes and stare at his knees, covered by pajama pants that match yours. You’d scoffed when he purchased them, calling him a big softie and asking if you were truly that kind of couple. Now, the sight eases your breath, makes it easier to speak though the tears still flow. 

‘It wasn’t,’ you stutter. ‘That’s not it.’

‘Something else?’

Pressing the base of your palms into your eyes, you lean forward until your forehead rests against his chest. From this angle, the distant beat of his heart keeps time and restructures the pattern of your breath. After a moment, you nod.

Walking his fingers down your spine, he rubs and presses against your back, drawing lazy, consoling circles with his palms. ‘Tell me.’

‘It’s terrible,’ you admit, whispering in the hopes that he will not hear you. ‘It’s so terrible.’

He shuffles closer, pulling you into his lap so that your legs rest on either side of his waist. ‘Then let me get my hands on it. I’ll break it for hurting you.’

Hugging him tightly, you shake your head, grasping him tightly to keep him close. ‘I can’t.’

He curls into you, fiercely protective in the way he lets you cling to him, and smiles into your hair. Briefly, you wear him like a crown, letting his warmth radiate deep into your soul, reveling in the knowledge that he is treasure. Somehow, you found treasure and learned how to hold it, and it somehow learned to hold you, though you cannot fathom that it would want to. It does, he does, and he clings to you much the same way you cling to him - with all of himself, and nothing left behind. 

Moving his hand from your back, he places his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your gaze to his. Biting your lip, you try to look away and wipe your eyes, but he hums in disapproval, keeping you still as his other hand wipes your tears. He handles you with a delicate touch, as though you are a thing worth protecting, as though you are fragile and sacred and worthy. And when you are clean, he kisses you, sanctifying you and marking your thoughts, your words, your everything as holy.

Pulling back, he fixes you with a confident expression, strength lingering deep within his irises, holding you close and holding you to your word. ‘I can take it.’ 

There’s something so ethereal about him, about the way the moonlight plays with the pink smeared across his cheeks; the way he breathes, silent and dignified, through parted lips set in a concerned pout; the way he is there, everywhere, all around and all over you, without truly being there at all. He clings to you, but still you see his presence, this love, as something transient. And you know it is your mind that tells you this, not your heart, but beautiful things were never truly meant to be contained, and you feel almost cruel keeping him here, with you, his most devoted admirer.

Minseok holds your gaze, refusing to look away and refusing to let this slide. Wide awake, sleep will not come for him, not until it claims you too.

Releasing a shaking breath, you lower your eyes, ashamed. Saying it out loud hurts, hurts in the crevices at the back of your throat and makes your chest become tight, constricting the air needed to speak. It is a bloodthirsty, brutal thought, the kind that leaves stains on a person’s perspective. Choosing to give it shape makes your lips feel dry enough they could bleed. 

‘You don’t really love me,’ you state, voice devoid of emotion, hollowed by the cruelty of it. ‘You’re settling for me. Until your great love comes along, and will be just as easy for you to love another person.’

In the aftermath, you simply wait. Wait for the relief that your therapist promises will come when giving voice to your anxieties, telling someone who claims they can, or want, to help. Wait for the release of Minseok’s hold, and the shutting of doors, the deafening silence that comes from being left. Wait for his nod of understanding and his announcement that you are right - because Minseok is many things, but he is not a liar. He offered to help. He meant it. And if you said something true, he would tell you.

Instead, he cocks his head back until the full length of his neck is exposed and he laughs. Boisterous and loud, he laughs and laughs, until his voice cracks, gasping for breath as the sound resonates off the ceiling in an echo. 

Eyes searching him for answers, you furrow your brow, bewildered. ‘Why are you laughing?’

‘Because,’ he begins, smoothing your hair with the flat of his palms, ‘I asked if you had any other stupid shit for me to break down, and this is the most absurd one of all.’

It doesn’t click. Not really. Mind racing, you continue to search his face, brain attempting to catch up with him. ‘But I’m serious,’ you try, hoping he understands how very severe this is, or was. 

Shifting so that he kneels before you, Minseok smiles as though he is greeting the sun - wide and affected and warmed by the very existence of you. ‘I live in a constant obsession with your mind.’ Leaning down to kiss your head, his motions are excited, purposeful. ‘It’s faster than mine could ever be. It doesn’t run or jump to conclusions, it just already knows the right answers. It’s funny - so funny, I can’t believe how sharp your wit is. And it says some of the most powerful, wonderful things I have ever heard in my life.’ Pressing a sound kiss to your lips, he silences himself. Sucking on your bottom lip, he hums in pleasure while your eyes remain open wide, witnessing the way he adores you. ‘Fuck,’ he moans, pulling away from you, ‘it decided, over your heart, that it loves me.’

The sensation of his lips on yours lingers, long and tingling, after he has parted from you. Lifting a finger to the skin, you press against your bottom lip, holding to feel him, to understand him. It feels impossible, all these compliments and confessions amounting to the summation of a person you don’t remember being, not truly. Objectively, there is honesty, but at your heart - your heart which races ahead of itself to be near and connected with him - there is dissonance.

Opening your mouth to protest, you lean forward, only to be silenced by Minseok’s fingers meeting your own at your lip, twining together in a tight hold. 

‘No, baby.’ He shakes his head, impassioned. ‘I know you listen to your mind more than your heart. You wouldn’t be here if your brain didn’t think I was right, or safe, or important, or worthy.’ 

Gripping your hips, he flips you onto your back, smirking down at your startled, mystified expression as he settles between your parted legs. Your hands clutch him, mind going blank as your blood begins to race, holding him flush against you and ensuring he does not leave. And even for the sudden change in position, the sudden difference of it all, he still handles you with the same care he would offer something sacred - holding it tight, keeping it near, and holding it impossibly close.

‘But your brain is so violent when it comes to you,’ he murmurs, burying his face into your neck. You feel his teeth first, expecting a bite and readying for the pain, thinking it would settle you, snap you back to reality, but he replaces his teeth with his lips, kissing and kissing and kissing. ‘How dare it say such a thing without asking me my thoughts.’ The warm wetness of his tongue licks at your skin, and you feel him smile as a shiver runs through you, electric. ‘Your brain is powerful and brilliant, but it is so, so fantastically silly.’

He moves away from your neck, gliding down to press his nose in the space between your breasts, unconcerned with the threadbare state of your old shirt, your lack of a bra, your lack of effort to be next to him. Minseok doesn’t seem to mind, simply breathes down and deep, grinding his hips against yours as he exhales and you card your hands through his hair, wanting to argue but unsure where the words have gone. 

‘I love you, every fierce and beautiful and violent part of you.’ Still, he moves lower, raising his head to meet your gaze, eyes black with desire. You rub your knee along his side, toes curling as he smirks, impishly. ‘Do you have any idea how incredibly lucky I am? That all of you chose to be mine?’ His hands grip the waistband of your pants, tugging gently to expose your hips. Briefly, he stills, transfixed, before dropping a kiss to your hip, nipping softly enough to make you gasp.

‘That’s the incredible thing about you - up.’ He stops speaking, tapping at your side and signaling to lift your hips. Lifting them, he glides your pants and underwear down your legs, tossing them to the side of the bed. 

You didn’t know the night was going to go this way, the sudden shift in energy and attitude leaving your brain empty and beholden to the response of your body. At your core, you feel the warmth of his closeness mixing with the cool night air, and you tremble, realizing, somehow, you have grown wet. There is an absence of him, within and all over you, and without your mind to protest all your body can do is crave. 

It’s unlike you to become so needy, but his voice and his hands and the intoxicating solidness of him melts you, and you feel yourself begin to drip and ache for him.

‘You listen to your brain over your heart,’ he continues, voice dropping to a graveled whisper as he settles between your legs. ‘You made a choice - a conscious, dedicated choice to let me in, to love me, to let me be your husband.’ Massaging your left leg, he presses a kiss to the inside of your right thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. You gasp in pleasure, rolling your hips upward to coax him closer. ‘I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you will never walk away from me. Do you have any clue how safe that makes me feel?’

Between your legs, he fixes you with an adoring, powerful stare, one that would ruin this mood, this moment, if he weren’t so flushed with lust. Somehow, he’s let himself become drunk on you, breath heavy in his chest and hands firm on your legs, keeping them spread wide. And it hits you, with the same impact as the sight of his tongue licking at his bottom lip in thirst, that he means to make you feel craved.  

‘Once you choose something,’ he says, the husk in his voice making your eyes flutter, ‘you never waver. You let that choice define a part of you - you let me become part a of you.’

To prove his point, he lowers his mouth, keeping his eyes on yours as best he can, and licks at your mound, grazing gently at your clit before rising up, proud. Fingers digging into the mattress, you move your lips to speak, but no sound comes. 

‘I love your mind.’ Minseok smiles, voice thick and purposeful. ‘But tonight, let me love your heart. Let me show you how to forget. Let me worship you.’ 

Minseok breathes deep once more, letting the full flood of your arousal cascade down his throat through his nose and open mouth. He moans, the deep tenor of his voice washing over you in waves, but you keep your eyes open, wanting to see. 

‘God,’ he whines, voice thick and barely audible. ‘You smell like heaven.’

It’s the last thing he says, the last thing he can manage, before he lets the last bit of his control come undone. Tracing one finger over your slit, he gathers the wetness that has pooled between your lips without moving to taste you. Instead, he adds a second finger, tracing and tracing with the slightest of pressures, transfixed by the way you move beneath him, silent requesting more. You think you might go insane, driven to the brink of existence by your mind and now, driven to a desire that builds and builds, getting you wet and keeping you hot. 

A whine erupts from your chest, frustrated, and you see him smile before, slowly, almost too slowly, he presses his fingers into your core and dives, mouth first, onto your folds and presses his tongue between his fingers. Your back arches off the bed, eyes wide open towards the ceiling and vision filled with nothing at all as your voice reverberates around the room. Between your legs, he laughs, the deep vibration rumbling through you, and your head presses back against the pillow.

He sets a steady rhythm, one that never quite speeds up when you feel like it should, and you know he means to make this last. It takes work keeping your hips on the bed, and he senses your impatience for speed, for roughness, for anything other than the even pace of his fingers knuckle deep alongside his tongue thrusting with care. His free hand leaves your thighs, voice grumbling in warning not to move, as he presses against your hip, keeping you still. 

You could ride his face, make a mess of him, demand speed or pain or the ache you know his fingers could deliver with one powerful curl, but you obey, letting the sweat build at your chest. Once more, you card a hand through his hair, luxuriating in the strands while your free hand clutches the sheets to let him keep control, and he purrs at the touch, the sound and the feel of him so deep inside you making you call his name.

It’s this sound that seems to invigorate him, speeding up his tongue as though called to action and making his name spill from your lips once more. On one thrust, he curls his fingers, adding a third at the same time he removes his tongue, and you release a strangled sound, torn between grieving the loss of the thickness of his tongue and celebrating the solidity of his finger. 

Vision blurred and moonlight fading behind a passing cloud, you can’t really see him, only the glimmers of your wetness on his mouth and cheeks. It’s sinful, the shadow and edgeless shape of him, but he reminds you he’s fully there, and fully yours, by pressing his mouth against your clit and sucking a scream from deep within your soul. Curling his fingers once more, he rolls his tongue over your in a messy circle, and your restraint burns away, frayed to nothingness by the magic of his mouth.

Thrusting against his face, your orgasm builds, coiling in your belly and turning your rhythm erratic. You’ve been holding back, keeping yourself as still as possible to let him do the work, but with your skin growing tight, the clench of your walls increases, attempting to keep him inside for as long as possible. With every thrust outward, you whimper, mourning the infinitesimal seconds you are empty and not entirely full of him. Lips dry, you cry out, feeling him speed up just enough that the glimmers of your orgasm suddenly bloom behind your eyes.

‘Come for me,’ he says, pulling off your clit briefly. ‘Let me taste you, feel you come for me.’

Pressing his tongue back between your folds, he exchanges the pressure on your clit with circles of his thumb, strong and demanding and swift. You feel the sun burn and glow from within you, erupting beneath your skin as the tension in your thighs builds enough that they are shaking. Momentarily, between the rush of blood in your ears, you can hear yourself whining, high pitched noises mixed with his name - shattered and incomplete - as he stills, save for his tongue and thumb, and lets your ride his face to completion. 

‘Min -’ you whimper, rolling against his mouth and gasping for breath.

He smiles as you come, trembling and shuddering, clenching your walls against his tongue. Both hands drop to his head pressing him harder against you, as your body quakes, erupting against him with a white hot glow of pleasure. It rolls through you, over and over, melting the tension in your back, shoulders, neck, until you are weightless and limp, shaking with the aftermath as you struggle to catch your breath. 

You don’t feel him part from you, don’t even feel him crawl up the bed beside you until he pulls you close against him, lips kissing at your neck, shoulder, and cheek as your come down. He hums softly, the sound your fixate on as your breathing returns to normal, eyes closed with heaviness as you put yourself back together. With his hand over your waist, his breath against your skin, you know you could sleep like this, and for this, you are grateful. But his erection presses against your hip, and this is what opens your eyes, brow furrowed in apology.

Wordlessly, you begin to turn over, hands reaching for his pajama bottoms, but he catches your wrist, stopping you.

‘No,’ he says, sweetly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Tonight was about you. I just want you to know…’

Studying him, you watch a small blush that creeps into his cheeks and suppress a giggle, wondering what could make him blush after you nearly suffocated him between your legs. 

‘I know I can’t live without you,’ he manages, eyes warm and alive, but terribly serious. ‘The next time your mind tells you I’m waiting for someone else, remind it that I spent my whole life waiting for you. Even if you move on from me, and find the one or another one, you’re my one. I am hopelessly, impossibly in love with you, and it won’t happen this way for me again, ever.’

Tears well up in your eyes once more, and rather than speak, you simply settle against his chest, clutching at whatever part of him you can find. You don’t know when you became this way, unsteady in your emotions, and so free with tears, fears, and all the ugly in between. But you know it’s because of him. Because he chose you. Because he decided to love you. 

And because, with him, being vulnerable means falling in love. Again.

[libertarianbarbarian]

Where I stand and why

WHERE AND WHY I STAND THE WAY, I DO

   FACTS

  -https://www.theasatrucommunity.org/sumarsdag-blot

-Odin,

Sky Father,

Highest of the Gods in Asgard,

From Mimir’s well you drank

For knowledge and wisdom,

A clear vision within,

A clear vision without.

Lord of Life and Death,

On Yggdrasill

Which spans all worlds, all life,

You hung in self-sacrifice,

And learned the sacred mysteries,

That do pierce the veil of all creation.

Mysterious and powerful are the ancient runes –

That you grasped unto yourself

And penetrated their deepest depths.

    OPED-WARNING

             Oh boy. Here we go, this is probably where I’m going to lose a shit ton of followers. So here goes nothing! I’m a follower of both Asatru and Odinism. This means that I am Norse Pagan. I follow Odin, Freya, and Thor. To my Christian followers just so you know I don’t overtly hate you, no I don’t follow a guy with horns, no I haven’t been to a mental institution…and not I don’t hear voices telling me to blow up churches…only on Sundays. Just a joke! Not a manifesto! Oh, God’s someone’s going to find this and try to use this out of context I know this. Ok here we go with the rest of the blog.

           So it’s well known at this point that I served in the United States Army at this point…if it isn’t…well now you know. I went through some things while I served, some good some extremely bad, it kind of comes with the territory. I was a “faithful” non-denominational Christian at the time I raised my right hand to enlist.

           I can’t really say I knew what it meant if I’m being sincere with you dear reader. I can say that I had been through a lot in my life, yes. I would pray endlessly, read my bible endlessly. I knew the old testament, the new testament like the back of my hand. Everything I said and did I tried my hardest…nothing. I can’t name one time that the “Lord and Savior” would personally send me a sign or let me know he was there for me or speak to me through his text’s.

            I then began to fall off the “band wagon” so-to-speak. This was well into my career as a soldier. I was a democrat, part of the liberal hive mind that began to eat away at the culture that is not around our youth that is my age now. It wasn’t until after I was discharged from service, thanks Obama, that I had my very first real religious experience and was horribly misguided by it.

           So the religious part, this is the juicy part haha! I just got discharged from the Army due to the massive draw back in funds that President Obama had in the department of defense. They were kicking people out for practically any reason they could instead of getting rid of equipment…that’s just what they do. When they discharge you, they send you to your home of record, mine just happens to be good old Kankakee, Illinois…kind of a shitty small ghetto town south of Chicago, not the worst place I’ve lived but not the best I’ve lived either.

           I was recently married to an honestly crappy woman, just had my first son and I had no job, or prospect of getting one living in my father’s half of a duplex again. Great beginning to my twenty second year of life, right? If you answered yes, I, just have no words for you right now.

           One day I’m beating feet on pavement doing what I can putting in paper applications to every brick and motor I can in town when it begins to down pour around me. Fucking great. Automatically I’m angry at everything around me, I’ve been out there for about three hours and I’ve got couple hours more, it’s July in Illinois and the sun was just shinning and you just want to randomly dump rain on me God?

           It took a moment, but I realized that I was completely dry. Everything around me was, what was getting soaked. Looked at the pavement under my feet dry. Three feet over, soaked, and still getting poured on. Oh, that’s fucking weird…but maybe there’s something to this God thing after all. Took him long enough after all. So it was then, being the Midwesterner that I am, I look up in to the sky and yelled “Hey if you’re going to keep me dry. How about you, and Jesus Christ get me a fucking job to?”

           Now I know if you’re Christian, and you’re reading this you’re going to tell me, “That’s not how God works Mr. Barbarian.” I know that! He never worked that way! Especially not in my case. But it was me having a bitter moment, and I KNOW, you Christians definitely have your bitter moments too! So “You is without sin cast the first stone”.

           I don’t know why, but in that moment, something told me to look for a reply, but nothing came. So, standing there I started joking around. Being the dork, I am I had an extensive knowledge of all the ‘myths’ of gods past from ancient cultures of our ancestors. “Ra?” nope, “Zeus?” nope. “Odin?” that’s when it happened, my general jackassery almost had caused me to miss the two very large noticeable ravens fly over my shoulders then land in front of my feet then turn to face me quietly.

           ‘There’s no way’ I thought to myself. Odin, the guy that has one eye? The God that is all about laying and slaying, keep in mind fellow Odinist’s I didn’t know much back then, is trying to reach out to me of all people? “Oh yeah whatever! If you’re really trying to talk then make it make the sky light up with lightening, then!” I continued down my path of jackassery. And as soon as I finished my statement the sky lit up with bright pink lightening.

           Right away I began to delve in to research into what this could mean. I found that there was a resurgence of the old Norse ways. That I wasn’t the only one the Norse God’s were coming to. It was now called Asatru, or if you were specifically following only Odin, then Odinism. Later, I found that I was also being called upon by Freya, goddess of love and warriors. And Thor…no not Chris Hemsworth, god of storms, war and fertility.

           Oh no, I wrote this because of Odin. This is where the big show begins…Gods I’m long winded. Odin is the All Father, kind of like the Zeus of the Norse Gods if you will. But when it comes to what he’s the god of, well he has A LOT under his belt! One of the main things he’s the god of is knowledge. And in some respects, he’s kind of like the Christian God.

           Odin won’t just give you knowledge. You must fight for it, you must find it, you must understand it. If you were to say, here something on the news from CNN well awesome! Ok, where did it happen, then go check out the local news from that area, see what the local news says, check the interviews of the locals to see what they say and relay it to the facts of the news story and see how well it holds up. That is something my religion tells me to do. That is something my God, Odin, says is honorable and something he admires.

           He also admires fighting. Now I know what you may be thinking, fighting? So just start beating the crap out of people? That seems a little vicious! No, those of us who believe in Asatru, and Odinism actually look at fighting or “battle” in a different light than you might think. It would actually be better described as “fighting for what you believe”.  Like I do now. I believe that the media needs to stop grandstanding for one political party and report the facts. I believe that big tech needs to stop censoring one political party or those it doesn’t agree with and allow all points of view, whether they agree or not. I will fight for what I believe, here on the internet, or in the senate, or in office if need be.

           So yes. I am following a religious crusade…not the Christian kind, so Muslim’s are safe. The kind where I seek knowledge, the kind where I will be the every-man that tries to understand your point of view and find commonality. The kind that will fight for what I believe in peacefully. I will accept the wanderer with a homely attitude because one day it might be my God Odin that comes walking through my door and it is our belief that we should always present the homeless wanderer with the best of our food, our chair, and bed as well as conversation and knowledge.

           This is why I am the Libertarian Barbarian.

[statusquoergo]

Hii. Bit of a different question here but do you have any tips on how to sound more intelligent in your writing. You always sound so well versed and concise, plus your writing is so elegant i was just wondering if you had any advice on that :)

Oh! Thank you so much, I’m so honored you think highly enough of my writing to ask my advice! Actually, come to think of it, this is the first time anyone’s ever asked me for writing advice… Well, I shall try my best. These are not hard and fast rules by any means, and I’m not saying this will definitely work for everyone all the time, but I’ll try to share some tips that help me with what I think you’re talking about.

Don’t use big words just because they’re big. Highly specific words are great! Even if they’re unusual and people might not have heard them before! But don’t feel like you have to use them to seem impressive. Sometimes a more precise description with smaller or simpler words is equally effective, or even more so, especially if the larger meaning of the sentence will be completely lost on someone who doesn’t know the word offhand. Plus that way, when you do throw in a bit of pretentious vocabulary every now and again, it stands out more and has more artistry to it.

Be judicious with your punctuation. Commas are wonderful, but they’re also incredibly easy to overuse. (Or under use, although I think that happens less often.) Em dashes don’t just break up sentences; they inject pauses into the narrative and make readers stop short. An ellipsis isn’t just a lull in conversation; it indicates that a character is trailing off and introduces a sense of uncertainty or distraction. Semicolons are nice, but sometimes it’s just better to break a sentence up into two.

Use details to your advantage. If your characters are going for a walk in the park, I don’t want to spend time reading an exhaustive description of every single tree they walk past—most of your readers have probably been to or seen a park before, they can imagine the general concept for themselves—but maybe one of them notices that the vendors in Central Park are selling jalapeño pretzels for three dollars apiece. That’s an incredibly specific thing to zero in on; depending on the context, just a small piece of information like that can tell you a lot about the character’s headspace. A few carefully selected details in the midst of a not particularly specific setting can go a long way toward drawing readers into a scene and putting their focus where you want it to establish the right ambiance, and you don’t have to waste a ton of time cross-hatching the whole entire landscape.

Don’t be afraid to break the rules! Don’t get me wrong, the rules are great to start out (whatever rules you were taught about how to write, I won’t presume we were taught the same; anyway the only one I can remember right now is “The word ‘very’ is a bad and lazy word and you should never use it,” which, fuck that), but there may come a point in time at which you start thinking something like, “Hey, I know I’m supposed to write this way, but what would happen if I did something that wasn’t that?” Do it. Absolutely do it. It might not work, but give it a shot. Writing is an endlessly adaptable medium and you can do whatever the hell you want with it.

Spend time inside your characters’ heads. I don’t just mean the omniscient narrator, I mean really delve into what your characters are thinking and feeling. I do this with a weird mix of first, second, and third person narration (like I said, don’t be afraid to break the rules), but you can do it whatever way works best for you; the important thing is to convey the depth of your characters’ emotions, what they’re feeling and why (maybe they don’t even know) and what it’s making them think and any other details that might help your readers identify with them. This ties back to what I said before about details; try to pinpoint an image or sensation that best encapsulates what the character is thinking or feeling right at the moment you’re describing and use that detail to convey the overall sensation.

Now I hesitate to say this, because I know this is everyone’s advice, but seriously, read. Read so much. Not that every book or story is going to be equally helpful in developing the style you want, of course; there are so many styles out there, and so many preferences, but if you can find a couple of authors whose styles you really like, read as much of their work as you can to put you in the headspace you want to write in. I personally like the surrealism of Haruki Murakami’s writing, but find whatever works for you! Oh, also music, and poetry, and sometimes film. Basically any art can be good inspiration. (Or not art; I wrote a scene the other day based on looking out the window.) And don’t be afraid of mimicry; as long as you’re not copying right out of the book, you’ll be fine, and with enough practice, your style will eventually become its own thing anyway.

Speaking of which, write. Write a lot. Quite sincerely, I got to where I am with a combination of reading authors whose styles I admire and writing my own stuff until I got to the point that I was able to write in the style I wanted without needing to go back to those reference materials all the time. You don’t have to write every single day, I’m not trying to guilt you or anything; sometimes you’re just not feeling it, and that’s okay. Really. It’s fine. But at the same time, don’t let your frustration hold you back because you will not get better if you do not practice. Also please edit your stuff. I write first drafts that I think I’m pretty happy with, and then I go back and edit them the next day and they end up absolutely covered with notes. Notes that help me refine my style! And make it more concise! But so many notes.

So, maybe some of this is a little bit helpful, I hope? I’m sorry I don’t really have any magic tricks to offer; adapting to a specific style takes time, and it’s hard, but if you keep at it, it’ll eventually become second nature. Please feel free to ask any more questions, if you have them!

[peachximagines]

I Fall Apart

Warning: Angsty, sexual content, swearing

Pairing: Female!reader x Calum 

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: this is my first requested writing :) Requests are open, feel free to use my ask box. Thank you @idekxhood for the request!

Request: “Hi idk if you do requests but if you doo can you do one for me with Cal where him and the reader have been broken up for a few months and the boys invite her over and she gets emotional seeing Calum and she’s crying or whatever and they end up making out or sleeping together and then they get back together? Idk I thought it’d be cute but if you don’t do that type of thing it’s cool ☺️❤️”

The break up was cordial. If that’s what you call slowly drifting apart and then finally sitting down to end things that already felt over. We both decided that since he is going on tour, it was best that Calum and I broke up. It would be hard for us to see each other, we already saw each other so little as is. Nothing in me wanted what we had to end. The increase in tour prep drove a wedge in the time we had together. I had deadlines, he had pavement to hit. Our love life just wasn’t in the cards. I tried to ignore the ache in my chest every time I watched an interview or heard Youngblood on the radio but nothing could stop the yearning my soul had for him. I did still keep in touch with Luke though. Talking to him throughout the “grieving” period. He kept tabs on Calum telling me he was okay, telling me he was doing the same for Calum. I would get occasional, “he loves you, talk to him” advice from the boys, but I never took it.  Getting almost daily calls from Luke was a constant, but what I didn’t expect was an invite.

“Just a little get together, some drinks, some friends.” I bite at my raw cuticles, thinking of all the reasons this would be a bad idea. “Yes, Calum will be there but you were our friend before you two dated. That can’t change, dude.” I hate how right he was.

“What time should I be there?” Luke lets out a victory cheer.

“Get ready now, come now, Sierra and I miss you.” I smile at his enthusiasm, promising not to take too long and hang up. I breathe out, clutching my phone tightly in my hands. One night, a couple of drinks with my ex and his best friends couldn’t be bad. I shakily text my group chat, telling them about my poor decisions. A flood of messages telling me to dress to impress vibrates my phone to the point of a mini earthquake in my hand. I shuffle to my bedroom, looking through my closet for an outfit the screams, “I totally didn’t listen to Lie to Me on repeat and cried on my way home from work!” A casual pair of ripped jeans is my choice of the day. I grab a black crop and settle on leaving my hair in its natural state. I add lipgloss and a tiny bit of highlighter before leaving the house.

The drive to Luke’s house felt too fast and too slow all at once. I park next to a line of sleek fancy cars before making my way into the house. Classic rock blasts from the house, causing the mahogany door to tremble. I text Luke, making him aware of my presence. Not too long after I press send, the handsome blond man whips open the door. Falling into his arms felt like taking your bra off after work. The fucking best. He squeezes extra tight before pulling away.

“Y/N! I haven’t seen you in forever, how the fuck are you?” The slight smell of alcohol off his breath explains his overzealous behavior. I grin, loving every minute of it.

“I’m great, how are you and the Mrs.?”

“Speaking of the devil,” I turn and see Sierra. She’s an actual goddess. I rush into her arms, feeling her grip. For such a petite girl, she hugs just as good as her gargantuan boyfriend. I go to ask her about herself but then he and I meet eyes. Calum takes a swig of his beer. He starts making his way in my direction. I feel my smile falter.

“Y/N.” He says. I give him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s been a while.”

“6 months, Calum.” I nod, turning away from him in search of alcohol. A pit grows in my stomach. Anxiety and sadness fight in me, trying to see who will make me feel worse. I scan the area for an escape route, spotting people in the kitchen. Ashton talks to Jack over the island in the kitchen, bonding over some music. I grab a beer from the cooler, joining the boys. I down the slightly chilled beer, wishing to wash away the feelings I had in me. Ashton averts his attention to me.

“Hey beautiful, how are you?” I finish off my beer in a few too little chugs. “That bad?” I nod, whipping my mouth with the back of my hand.

   “I didn’t think seeing him would feel like this, yet here I fucking am.” I reach for another beer. I crack it open, drinking it down quickly.

“Maybe you should slow down, lightweight.” Chills go down my spine, inching across my arms. I lock eyes with him, wishing to be angry or even slightly annoyed. I couldn't do it. Seeing him again was like taking a dive off the diving board. I knew what jumping would entail, but I can never calculate the feeling of your stomach flipping over and over. I honestly thought I could kind of handle this. Being this close to him, smelling the Nautica cologne I gave him for Christmas, seeing the necklace I gave him for his birthday. His entire appearances reeks like the ghost of our past and I feel like the Scrooge.

“Fucking bah humbug,” I grumble, pushing myself out of my seat, taking large steps to reach the bathroom.

“Y/N!” Sierra calls out for me but I ignore it. I don’t want to cry in front of anyone and ruin the mood. I thank the heavens and hell when I reach Luke’s master bedroom, locking myself in the bathroom. I slid down the door, clenching my eyes shut. Finally, I allow the dumb tears to fall. I pull out my phone, shooting an “I was wrong” text to the group chat. I just need to get this crying out the way and drink my sorrows away. That was my plan until I heard knocking at the door. Sierra was too sweet.

“Sorry Si, I was just really-” I unlock the door, opening it up for Calum. He looks nervous and I want to kiss him more than anything. I back up, going to close the door again. He sticks out a fresh bottle of beer.

“Peace offering?” I take it, my fingers gently brushing the tips of his fingers. His fingers. I shake myself out of the thoughts that start and allow him to come in the bathroom with me. I sit on the edge of the tub while Calum sits on the counter, leaving an appropriate amount of room between us. I drink the beer, watching him carefully from the corner of my eye. He doesn’t speak. He just watches me. His jaw was clenched, allowing me to see every tendon and muscle below his beautiful brown skin.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I just don’t know how to be around you,” Calum shifts, his jeans rubbing against the light ceramic counters.

“No worries,” I shrug, “let’s forget about it.” The heavy silence makes me want to scream.

“So what, you’re just going to act like nothing happened?” The question sounded accusatory. His voice cracked slightly like he was close to tears. I scoff, drinking more of the beer. “Like we didn’t break up? Like the reasons we broke up don’t exist?”

“You were the one who pulled away, Calum. I was there as much as I could be.” He shakes his heads, his jaw never relaxing.

“No. You weren’t there. You were working more than me, staying late, leaving early. You avoided me.” Calum slides off the counter, leaning against it. His muscular arms crossed, his eyes squinting.

“Avoiding you? I was building a career for myself, just like you were doing. ” I stand up from my relaxed position, “Except, you were the one who left Calum!”  

“I had a tour! I promised to call, every day! I never broke that.” His face started pinky around his cheeks, his eyes slightly widened with anger.

“That’s fucking rich. I needed you while you were at home, not on tour.” I tip back the beer, taking the rest down in one gulp. “You should’ve tried when we together, not when we were falling apart.” I step away from him, my head swimming. WIth my back now to Calum, I pull on the door, hoping for a hasty exit.

“You promised,” He choked out, voice breaking. His gaze was shifted down, eyes filled with tears that were so fucking close to spilling. “You promised we’d be together. I fucking loved you. I still do. I write songs about the love we had. I write songs about how I fucking feel because you left me.” He sniffs, fiddling with the bottle cap.

“Calum,” I start, letting go of the door handle.

“What changed, huh?” He wiped a tear from his cheeks. “What made you stop loving me? You said it, we’d be together. You promised me, so what changed?” I shake my head, tears of my own accumulating.

“Nothing, nothing fucking changed.” He finally meets my eyes, a sob escaping my throat. Tears streamed down his face endlessly.

“We were more than okay, baby. We were in love.” Calum steps towards me, grabbing my wrists tenderly. “We wanted to get married.”

“Cal, please,” I want to pull from his grip, scream at him for bringing every feeling I had for him back a tenfold.

“I fucking love you, Y/N.” The sincerity, the passion is all too much. The sobs leave my mouth in choppy hiccups.

His arms wrap around me like they belong there. Because they do. Calum belongs with me, against me, holding me.

“I’m so in love with you, more than anything.” I grab his damp cheeks, pressing our lips together feverishly. People always say that when you kiss someone after a long time, it feels like the first time. This was nothing like our first time. This feels rushed, desperate just to be touching. Starved for each other. Calum brings a large hand up my spine pressing my chest even closer to him. Our lips separate, Calum starts making quick work of kissing anywhere he can reach. My neck, my chest, my collarbones. His mouth was all over me and I needed him. I needed him physically, mentally and emotionally.

“Please,” I whimper out, not knowing what I was even begging for.

“Sh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you,” the feverish kisses slow down, light airy ones sprinkle my skin. His kisses were the dictionary definition of love. He makes quick work of lifting me onto the counter, pulling my crop top off of me in record time. I smile at him, teary-eyed but in love. He looks beautiful. The soft yellow light of the bathroom is forgiving on our sob wrecked faces. Calum looks like a fucking prince.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers gently against my jaw. His breaths were short and frequent against my skin. I wanted him to pull me in and never let me go. “Just tell me you love me, baby, let me hear you.” His fingers trail the inside of my thigh, inching closer to where I need him. I go almost completely lax, letting my head gently thud against the mirror. Calum takes the opportunity to lick his way down my chest to my tits, sucking a hickey in cleavage view.

“I love you Calum,” I whine softly, spreading my legs for him a little more. “I’m in love with you.” He moans against my skin, the vibrations arousing me even the slightest bit more. I squirm a little, pressing my crotch against his hand.

“Gimme more,” I beg softly. Calum licked his lips, nodding and tugging down the zipper of my too tight jeans.

“I’ve been wanting to get you out of these since I saw your pretty ass walk in baby.” It takes longer than necessary to shimmy out of the jeans. As Calum finally yanks them off, he trips falling onto the floor. I gasp.

“I’m fine!” He scrambles up, cheeks pink with arousal and now in embarrassment. “All good in the Hood.” he winks while I groan in annoyance, pulling him back to me kissing those stupid lips. With only my panties as a barrier, his touch was intoxicating. HIs fingers play with my pussy gently, keeping on the edge without giving me what I wanted.

“Calum, please,” I beg, pushing his hand harder against my core.

“Six months baby, six months,” he growls it into my ear. “I went six months without touching my girl’s pussy so I’m gonna take my fucking time. Be good.” I want to come just from his words. Our lips meet again, the same hunger returning. Like Zeus himself answered my prayers, Calum pushes his middle finger deep in me. I gasp, missing the solid feeling of being just slightly full. I rub my pussy his hand, trying to gain even a bit more friction. He was barely doing anything and god damn it felt so delicious.

“That’s it, baby, I told you I’d take care of you.” The weight behind his words was more than just sexual. I nod wantonly, rolling my hips against his hand. “Can I put another finger baby? Would you like that, beautiful?” I nod, needing more from him. Anything. The feeling of two fingers slowly consumed me and I could’ve just came right there. His thumb toys with my clit softly, jolts of pleasure hit me every few seconds. Calum’s mouth returns to my tits, while his free hands rubs himself through his jeans. The familiar build of tension forms in my stomach.

“Cal, please I’m so close.” He moans while sucking on my chest. His hot wet mouth on my skin, his long fingers rubbing it was enough to push me over the edge. I came hard, choking out his name like it was the only thing I could think of. My thighs trembled as his fingers picked up the pace, another wave of my unfinished orgasm hitting me harder giving me the pleasure that I’ve been missing. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out from me, promptly sticking them in his mouth. I watched with my mouth slightly agape as he licks his fingers cleans. I smile, pulling him closer by his waistband, sliding a cautious hand down the front of his pants.

“Not gonna last long, princess. Probably gonna cream myself just from you touching me,” I bite my lip, not too bothered with the idea. I work my hand over his cock, keeping it in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut, his hips start thrusting deeply against my hand. The view of him was something out of a porno. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was in his face. His eyes were squinted, just enough to stare at my hand but still get lost in the pleasure. His grip on my thighs tighten.

“Come for me, Cal. I fucking wanna feel your thick cock come all over my hands.” I kiss his cheeks, the warm skin slightly salty. “Please, I want it so bad.” I kiss his parted cherry red lips. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth. I swallow his groans as thick white spurts cover my hand. His groans were rough and jagged like he hasn’t come in a while. I whisper soft praises in his ear, rubbing a little more. I pull my sticky hand out his pants, quickly running it under warm water from the sink. Calum chuckles, pulling my body against his, kissing me like it was all he wanted to do.

“I know shit’s fucked right now,” he swallows, still a little out of breath, “but we can do this baby. You and me against the world.” I kiss his cheeks, the warm pink skin familiar as my own skin.

“You and me against the world.”

[serpentsangel]

Raised on the Wrong Side: Part Fifteen

A/N: Sorry if this chapter is shorter than my recent chapters have been. As I was writing it I just couldn’t feel the need to extend it farther without creating useless moments that just felt like they were there for the sake of having something. asdfghjkl;, it’s just how I am when I write. This is a pretty major plot line in the story and I have to admit, I sadly believe that there may only be 5-8 chapters more before the end of the story. D: But I have “Talk Me Down” planned! A spin-off/prequel about the Reader x Reggie in this story, so keep a look out for that! Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter <3

Plot: As Jughead and Malachai prepare to run a race that can change the course of things, (Y/N) gets used to life as a new Serpent and dealing with her situation with Sweet Pea; whatever it is.

Warnings: fluff <3 and some violence

Words: 2,919

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven // Part Eight // Part Nine // Part Ten // Part Eleven // Part Twelve // Part Thirteen // Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

The following morning, (Y/N) wakes Sweet Pea up by pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Wakey, wakey, Sweets. I cooked you breakfast.” She sets down a tray across his lap and slides into the spot next to him on the bed, looping an arm in with his as she nuzzles her head on his shoulder. Sweet Pea yawns, as he kisses (Y/N) on her forehead before digging into the food.  “How is it?”

“The best fucking food I have ever had.” Sweet Pea moans as he takes a bit off the pancake to feed to (Y/N), the corner of her lips still bandaged and stinging in pain. “This is the best thing to wake up to.” He smirks as he puts the tray to the side and turns to hover over (Y/N), holding onto her gently as he moves down to capture her lips in a soft embrace. (Y/N) snakes her arms around his body as she brings him to her carefully, wrapping her legs around his as the two get tangled in each others kiss.  Sweet Pea pulls away as he chuckles, seeing the red blush appear on (Y/N)’s cheeks. “I don’t think I can ever get sick of that.”

(Y/N) playfully slaps his torso as she sits up, letting the pain fade as she holds onto Sweet Pea’s face. “I adore you a lot, Sweets. That’s something I know for certain but I don’t know if I’m ready to get back into being with someone like that. I’m not someone that falls so easily and I want to take things slow, Sweets. Whatever it is that I feel for you, whatever it may be, I don’t want it to hurt either of us in the end. I want to be careful and I want to make sure we do things right.” Sweet Pea leans into her hand and nods. 

“I don’t know what any of this is, honestly. I’ve never felt anything for anyone before and definitely not as strongly as I do for you but I’m willing to try. If you want to take it slow, then we will.” Fearing he may lose (Y/N) forever, he promised to himself he’d do anything to keep things at bay. That he’d so anything in his power to ensure that from this day on, she never feels pain again. “You’re a mystery, (Y/N).”

“And I can’t wait for you to figure me out.” (Y/N) tugs at his shirt, bringing him as close as she can, not wanting to let go of the moment as the two are once more entangled in each others feelings and feeling his lips carefully dance with her broken ones, (Y/N) feels all worry disappear from the confinements of her heart as Sweet Pea’s delicate hands find their way around her body. Carefully, his hands trace the sensitive outlines of her bruises and hover past the bandaged cuts before finding their way into her hair, tugging slightly as a small moan originates from (Y/N) pursed lips. “Fuck, Sweets.” (Y/N) pants heavily as she moves away from his lips for a moment. “Slow steps, baby. Slow steps.” She smirks and tugs at his bottom lip.

“You’re such a tease.” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes in a playful manner as he gets up and takes his current shirt off, knowing very well that (Y/N)’s eyes were glued to his body as he disappears into the bathroom to get ready. “Holy fuck.” Sweet Pea mutters to himself, looking into the mirror and giving his reflections a fist bump. “Don’t fuck this up, man. She’s a keeper.” He winks at himself before walking out and grabbing a new shirt to put on. “So, are you going to be there at the street race later on? I kind of want to have you there by my side.” He boops her nose.

(Y/N) scrunches up her nose and nods. “Yeah of course, can you help me change my bandages before then though?” Sweets nods. “I just want to go visit my dad first or give him a call. I know he and FP have been dealing with the Ghoulie’s personally and says things aren’t getting any better but I just want to check in on him.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sweet Pea lies back down beside (Y/N), snaking his fingers with hers as he kisses each one; going past the bite marks from the night of her initiation. “How does it feel? Finally being a Serpent and I guess running it with your father?” (Y/N) blushes as Sweet Pea continues to kiss each and every one of her bruises with caution and a hint of care.

“Relieving. Kind of weird.” (Y/N) admits. “Even though this has been something I’ve been looking forward to my entire life, it just feels strange—I guess—now that it’s all real. Everything seem to come by so quickly and easily and whether it’s my natural paranoia or just a sixth sense, I feel like the worst test of my strength is yet to come. The Gauntlet feels like nothing. I’m now in the world of the Serpents and growing up in the North I can’t help but fear that I’m entering a danger zone that I may not be prepared for.”

“Hey.” Shuffling closer to her, Sweets brings (Y/N) in to his arms and tightens his grip around her in the slightest to bring her comfort. She clings onto him for life. “Whatever it is that they made you believe, it isn’t true. You’re here with the Serpents and we are here to protect you as you would for us. You don’t have to worry about any of that anymore, (Y/N). The Serpents have your back. I’ve got your back.” Bringing her chin up, so she can see the sincerity in Sweet Pea’s eyes, he presses his forehead to hers. “You’re safe here with us, nothing can hurt you now.” Closing the gap between them, Sweets places a simple kiss of reassurance on (Y/N)’s frown.

“Can you promise me one thing, Sweets?” He bops his head. “Promise me you won’t go down the road of dealing, like some Serpent’s have? Promise me you won’t get roped into it and that if anyone and I mean anyone tries to bring you in, you’d tell me? And I’ll get my dad and myself to deal with them.” 

“Of course. I don’t want to be involved in anything if it means I’ll be losing you.” (Y/N) grins as she gives Sweets a short peck before getting up from the bed and taking a stretch. “And I don’t think I can stand the thought of losing you, (Y/N). I can’t imagine life without you.” 

(Y/N) crawls back onto the bed and sits on Sweets laps as she plays with his dog tag necklace. “I won’t leave you behind, Sweets. As long as you promise to never leave me behind.”

“I promise.”

****

Sweet Pea parks his bike, feeling a little more refreshed about today, as this is the first time in which he didn’t have to hide. Hide his feelings or emotions, now that the two of them have finally talked things through; the slightest bit of weight is lifted off of his shoulders. “I’m going to stick by your side, alright? You’re still a fragile angel whose wings have been chipped.” A small loose strand of hair falls across (Y/N)’s forehead as he tucks it back into place. “I kind of want to kiss you.”

(Y/N) tiptoes in order to reach Sweet Pea’s lips, placing her hand on the back of his neck as she presses him against her as close as she can before pulling away and tugging slightly as his dog tag, whispering in his ear. “If you dare tease me while we’re in school, you’re getting it when we go home.” (Y/N) pats his torso as she walks her way into school confidently, leaving Sweet Pea in awe. She passes by Toni and proudly twirls around with her now official Serpent jacket. “Kind of leaves a different impact now that it is official, hm?”

“I cannot be more proud of you than I am right now, (Y/N)” Toni grins proudly as she holds (Y/N)’s shoulder. “You’re one of us now and we are more than happy to have you with us. So, you willing to die for me?” She jokes, knowing well the answer (Y/N) would give. “I’m joking! I know you would, as I would for you. Now, come on. I have to get to class and you need to get your shit before going to class. I’ll see you at the race later!” Toni waves goodbye at (Y/N) just as she feels a pair of strong arms pull her in.

(Y/N) jumps in caution and instinctively turns to punch the individual in stomach, Sweet Pea lets out a wheeze as the punch rammed through sending a slight shock through his body. The moment she sees, Sweet Pea bending over, (Y/N) gasps as she helps him up. “You cannot scare me like that, Sweets!” (Y/N) gives him a slight push and he chuckles as he presses a kiss to her forehead, keeping her there for a moment. As much as she hated to admit that the simple gesture is something that soothes her easily. (Y/N) couldn’t help but melt in his arms. “I hate that you know that that calms me down.”

“Well, I guess I’m just starting to figure you out, princess.” Sweet Pea smirks cockily as the hallways start to ware out with students almost leaving just the two of them standing there in the middle as Sweets grabs a hold of (Y/N)’s arm. “I want to ask you something, about us.” (Y/N) turns her attention fully towards him. “I want you to move in with me. For real. I mean, I want to ask you to move in with me, not want because I don’t want to demand you to do anything as I don’t have any control over your life and…” (Y/N) places a finger on Sweet Pea’s lips to shut up his rambling. 

“Do I really make you that nervous, Sweets?” (Y/N) questions, seeing the way his eyes failed to meet hers, the way he could endlessly talk without pausing and not realizing he’s going on a tangent. He only nods in response as she chuckles and caresses his cheek softly with the back of her hand. “I basically already am, Sweets. Does this mean I get my own key? Do I get some authority over design choices? Because I really think you could use some new curtains. Maybe a paint job.”

“Now I can’t tell if I’m regretting this decision.” 

“Oh puh-lease. You’ll be glad you asked me. In fact, it’ll be the best decision you’ve ever made.” 

**** 

After school, the group headed to the quarry to cool down before heading out to witness the street race between Jughead and Archie and Malachai. A lot is at stake and they all made sure that Jug was as at his most relaxed state of mind, if not, then they all could lose their places by the end of their night. Not only that but lose nearly every piece of land they have known dear their entire life. (Y/N) and Sweet Pea sat by each other on the battered couch, (Y/N) lifting her legs up and snuggling close to his side as he drapes an arm around her. Toni, sending a proud thumbs-up Sweets way, finally seeing the two of them together.

Silence took over as no one wanted to say anything, the silence more comfortable than dreadful. At times, silence can be the best way to relax. Sweet Pea quietly hums to (Y/N), Jughead quietly thinking to himself while Fangs, Toni and, the other Serpents minded their own business. When it came around to leave for the race, Sweet Pea excuses himself as he drops off (Y/N) at their home. “Don’t be long, princess. Tell me when you head out, this is not something you want to miss.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, I’ll see you there. Just want to sort these wounds out, I’ll be alright, okay? If anything goes wrong I’ll give you a call.” (Y/N) hops off Sweet Pea’s bike as she presses a kiss to his cheek, waving as he drives off. As he drives over to the race, he has a gut feeling to go back and be there for (Y/N) knowing how fragile she still is but he knows that she can handle herself. Besides, he didn’t want to be looming over her every second, if he’s going to want to keep her around he needs to take things slow.

Everyone is already present at the start spot, Sweet Pea parks his bike right by Toni’s as the blaring heat of Riverdale consumes them all. Not far from his spot, Sweet Pea notices Reggie leaning against his car looking fairly gloomy and disinterested in the events about to transpire and some level of relief and ease soothed over him as he realized it was best (Y/N) stayed behind for a few; not knowing whether she’s ready to confront her ex-boyfriend while she’s only starting to get close to Sweet Pea. Another fight between the two could possibly make things worse for the two of them and in the end, neither of them will have the beautiful pleasure of being able to call (Y/N) theirs.

“You’re lucky (Y/N) had to go back home first because it would not be pretty if the two of you came here being the lovey-dovey people you are while her ex sits back and looks as distressed as ever.” Toni comments, noticing Reggie’s emotions too. “She’s coming though, right? I don’t think she’d want to miss a race that can determine whether or not we have a home by the end of the night. I’m sure this is something she’d want to witness.”

As time went by, Cheryl arrived to start the race and still no sign of (Y/N). Nervously, Sweet Pea checks his phone and hasn’t received the text indicating she’s left. Maybe she forgot and is on the way. He tucks his phone away as the sound of the cars ring through; he cheers on for Jughead but soon couldn’t help but worry once more for (Y/N) as he looks around and doesn’t see her or her bike anywhere. “Toni, you’ve heard from (Y/N)? She said she’ll text me once she’s left my place but I haven’t received anything.” Toni checks her phone and shakes her head, nothing. 

“Maybe she is on the way here and just can’t stop to text.” Toni suggests. Sweet Pea shakes his head, refusing to take that as an answer. “Come on, Sweets. I get it, the two of you are now a thing but you can’t be watching on her shoulder every second. She’s an adult.” Sweets sends a quick message over to AJ, as he keeps his ground waiting to see the sight of Jughead’s car. In the horizon, they spot his car but the celebrations are halted as they shout warnings about cops being around. All the Ghoulie’s, Serpents and Bull Dogs hop back on their respective vehicles, heading back to wherever. Sweet Pea meets with the others outside the Whyte Wyrm.

“Well, I’m kind of upset (Y/N) wasn’t here to experience that. Her first brush with the law as a Serpent and she isn’t here.” Fangs shrugs his shoulders. “Sweets, you want a drink?” Sweet Pea nervously checks his phone, still anxious on waiting for a reply from either AJ or (Y/N) but seeing none, he heads on inside with Fangs and Toni as they order a round of drinks. Sweet Pea places his phone on the table making it easier for him to check if and when someone messages him. “Still don’t know how I feel about lovey-dovey Sweet Pea. I have mixed feelings.” 

An hour passes and after finishing his second drink, Sweet Pea’s phone finally lights up and he hurries over to grab it, almost dropping the glass onto the floor.

AJ: Get to the hospital please. It’s (Y/N).

His heart stops. “We have to go, now.” Sweet Pea shows the message to the other two who rush out of there and race for the hospital, fearing what could be there to greet them as they get to the hospital. Sweet Pea barely misses skidding across the parking lot and falling over his bike as he runs inside the emergency entrance and spots AJ sitting down with his head in his hands, covered in blood. “AJ.” He approaches the Serpent King and searches for answers, his body shaking insanely as his eyes twitch at the mental recollection of what he witnessed.

“I went to check on (Y/N) like you asked. The door was open when I arrived and there was blood, oh so much blood leaking out and that’s where I found her. Someone shot her three times.” AJ breaks down as the vision of his daughters fading body flashes in and out of his mind. Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea each share the same horrified look knowing the possible outcome of this but neither them, nor AJ, could process the very thought. Since they barged through those doors, AJ looks up at Sweet Pea for the first time his eyes stained red and full of dread as the words he speaks are the very words they feared.

“She may not make it.”

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