#my bad. had no idea i was supposed to take everything and shove it into this singular dude by force

[sohotthateveryonedied]

I know others have already given you critics for this, but I just finished your Bipolar Tim Drake fic and I respect that it's your work and you have creative control, but as someone with bipolar disorder I don't love the way it trapped the bipolar experience into such a narrow box. Everyone's journey is different, it isn't just blowing up anger and in bed all day. For people who are trying to educate themselves, this form of portrayal can be misleading and at worst borderline insulting

hey so fun fact, if you're looking to fanfiction (FANFICTION) as the medium through which to educate yourself about mental disorders instead of, i don't know, using an actual medical website, then there is something so so very completely wrong with you

[evielmostdefinitely]

cold tonight |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: coriolanus has been neglecting you, busy with the games and his new leadership. you decide to be bold to get his attention.

contains: 18+ smut. dom/sub themes (yes it's snow but everything is consensual). established relationship. spanking. orgasm denial. cum play ??? kinda, creampie, pinvsex. possessive and dark-ish snow.

“Pardon me,” Your spine stiffened, nearly crushing the crystal champagne flute in your hand. You couldn’t see him, but you felt him, lingering behind you, a looming presence; Coriolanus. 

“I apologize for interrupting, ladies.” Coriolanus’ manners were impeccable, even through his fury. “I need to borrow my wife.” His hand was on your waist, an affectionate motion to the outside, but you knew better. You knew with the way his grip tightened, the sharpness of his tone, your actions from before hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

Coriolanus had been so terribly uptight for weeks- preparations for the games, you assumed. It was his first year as President hosting the games. He’d been neglecting you, too consumed with his own work. It had been weeks since he touched you, except the quick kiss goodbye in the morning, and you were beyond pent up. He seemed more relaxed tonight. The reaping was tomorrow, everything in place and ready to go for the tributes, for the sponsors. 

It seemed harmless, really. 

Coriolanus had started it. Kissing you in the car ride over here, his hand gripping your thigh under your dress, hand on the back of your neck, yanking at the loose hairs there- teasing. It hadn’t gone any further. The car pulled up, Coriolanus wiping your lipstick from his face, offering a hand to you when you slid out of the car. You knew you looked flushed in the photos, and you were. 

You went to the restroom, excusing yourself to reapply your makeup, compose yourself. The idea was… scandalous, you supposed. Definitely improper, your mother would faint if she knew you were acting like such a harlot, in public, no less. Still, the idea was thrilling. 

You slipped your tiny, lacy undergarments off, balling them in your gloved hand. “Corio,” You called sweetly, tone drenched in honey, warm and inviting. He excused himself, lured into your entice. 

“Yes, my love?” 

“You dropped these.” You whispered, hoping the flush across your face, your collarbones and creeping up your neck, didn’t give you away. A shaking hand grabbed his, shoving the underwear into his own palm. 

Coriolanus frowned, lifting his hand to see what you put in it, only for you to quickly press it back down. “Don’t.” You shook your head, eyes darting around. “They’re just for you only.” You whispered, eyes batting towards him in a way that had his heart lurching with excitement. 

Coriolanus moved, turned into a corner, opening his hand. He blushed a deep crimson when he saw your panties, slightly damp at the crotch- he assumed from the excitement of the car ride. He had to stop himself from bringing them to his nose, inhaling that intoxicating scent that was unapologetically yours. Instead, he balled the garments into his pocket, shooting you an icy glare from across the room. 

You blushed, eyes batting towards him, turning back to your conversation with a sponsor. Oh, he had half a mind to take you to the middle of the room, embarrass you for being so defiant and bratty- so needy. Too bad for him that he’d grown to adore it so much. It only made punishing you more exciting. 

Now, Coriolanus had managed to break away, after a night of feeling the mocking garment in his pocket, taunting him, pulling his mind from droning conversations with the Capitol's finest. His arm on yours, pulling you away from the party. 

“Corio,” Your heeled steps echoed down the empty hallway. “We can’t be gone for too long. They’ll notice you’re missing and-” 

“-They’ll be fine.” Corio hissed, fingertips pressing into your biceps. He found a closet, filled with cleaning supplies for the servants of the hall, pulling you in with him, locking the door behind. 

You felt small under his gaze, shrinking back until you were pressed against the shelving. “Do you think this is a game?” Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed towards you, a menacing step forward in the small space that had you pressing further into the shelves. “Do you know how highly inappropriate that was? If someone would have saw you-” 

“-No one saw me, Corio.” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest. You had meant for it to upset him, not really. Only rile him up so it might excite him. “I was careful.” 

“Careful?” Corio scoffed. “You were down right sloppy, my love. Acting no better than the hookers in District One-” 

“-Corio!-” 

“-Perhaps I should just drop you off there.” Coriolanus looked down at you, eyes sliding over your frame. “You’d be dressed accordingly.” He stepped forward, trapping you under his steely gaze. “No panties. You’re filthy.” 

You blushed, turning away but his hand caught your chin, bringing you back to meet his gaze. “You’re out of line. Disrupting the peace.” 

“What can I say? I’m a rebel.” You sneered, biting and challenging. 

“You’ll watch how you speak to me.” Coriolanus snapped, grip tightening around your jaw. “You know better. You do not use that word around me. Do you understand?” 

“Yes…” You whispered, eyes downcast. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his icy glare , so harsh, domineering. 

“Look at me when you’re speaking to me.” Coriolanus growled, face mere inches from your own. Your tummy flipped with heat, eyes cutting to him for a moment before snapping back down. 

Coriolanus’ jaw tightened, lips pursed in displeasure. “You’re not feeling very obedient tonight, are you?” He sighed dramatically. “I’ll fix that.” His hand left your jaw, stepping back, shedding his coat in the small space of the closet. 

You watched him carefully, hands still clasped in front of you, eyes trekking his movements. Coriolanus looked at you, hanging his jacket over the door knob. “Go on. Lift the dress and bend over, grab the shelf.” Your stomach erupted in butterflies, nervous and excited heat coursing through your veins. 

“W-What?” 

“You need to be punished. I would wait until we got home, but I can not trust you to not misbehave any further.” Corio sighed heavily, disappointed, rolling the sleeves of his shirt. He was so quick to step into this role, a flick of a switch and he was so easily domineering over you. It made you throb, thighs pressing together. 

“Corio,” You whispered, as if anyone was around. “Not here. I-I’ll be good, I’m sorry. I was just playing.” 

“Playing?” Coriolanus challenged, brows lifting. “You thought this was the appropriate place to play?” 

“N-No, I just-” 

“-You what?” Corio snapped, a ghosting of a scoff on his tone. “You acted inappropriately and you will be punished. You know my rules. You know what I expect of you, how you’re supposed to behave.” You blushed, knees tightening at the authority in his voice. 

He knew it got you flustered, knew you were probably dripping down your thigh already. It was exactly why he did it. 

“Now bend over before I have to ask you again. You know better. Do not make me get creative in here, darling. I might not have my usual devices, but I will find something in here that will substitute the cane if I have to.” Corio frowned, the threat leaving you shuddering, quickly turning around. There was nothing you hated more than the cane, Corio knew that. He’d only used it twice on you, once to try, the other when you’d screamed at him at University. 

You lifted the silk material of your dress slowly, bare skin covered with chills with every inch of skin exposed. Corio’s tongue slid across his bottom lip, eyes drawn to your drooling lips between your legs, puffy with excitement. How he’d missed them, missed you. 

You leaned forward, shaky hands grabbing onto the shelf of cleaning supplies, bent at the waist and presented for him. “Hm, so you can follow orders?” Coriolanus hummed, hand gliding teasingly over the globes of your ass. “When you want to.” 

You didn’t answer, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs matching the beating in your chest. Coriolanus moved beside you, pulling you close into his hip. “I don’t have long, and I didn’t intend to have to punish you.” He snapped, chastising and mean. You whimpered beneath closed lips. “Twenty with my hand. I don’t need you to count, but you better keep quiet, do you understand?” 

You took a deep breath in, stilling yourself. Corio’s palm fell flat against your ass, sharp and stinging, leaving you gasping with surprise. “I said, do you understand?” Corio sneered. He despised repeating himself, you knew that. You were extremely bratty, in a way you hadn’t been since you and Corio first started playing years ago, when you were first dating. He loved how he’d broken you, got you to submit entirely to him, be his good, obedient girl. 

“Y-Yes, Corio.” You nodded gently, voice meek and quiet. “I understand.” 

“Good.” Coriolanus snapped, squeezing your right cheek firmly. You squirmed under his touch. 

His hand rose, falling just as quick on your right cheek, the fading imprint left behind on your skin before he repeated on the other. You bit at your lip, nails digging into the wood of the shelf with each passing snap. 

The walls muffled the sound and thankfully your tiny squeals of surprise. One particularly hard smack had you jumping, Corio’s hand pressing you back into position. “Stay.” He hissed. You were throbbing, a slick and sticky mess of desire by the time Coriolanus was finishing. 

Two final smacks, the hardest of all, had tears pricking your vision. Your bottom stung, itchy with a burn you were desperate to rub out. You expected more, expected it harder. Coriolanus had gone easy on you. 

You felt him press against your burning ass, and you knew why. His erection stiff in his trousers, flush against your reddened ass cheek. “Have you learned your lesson?” Corio rasped, the same hand he’d spanked you with now rubbing down your spine in a soothing, calming manner. You shuddered excitedly under his touch. 

“Yes, Corio.” You whispered, turning to look back at him over your shoulder, hoping your batting eyes would lure him to touch you, lick you even. 

“Hm,” Corio hummed, unbuttoning his trousers. “I’m not sure I’m convinced, but,” He pulled out his length, leaking from the reddened head of his cock already. Your mouth pooled with spit, desperate for a taste. “I need to do something about this.” He nodded towards his erection, stroking it slowly. 

“Can’t go out there. I’ll look just as desperate as you, then what will they say, hm?” Coriolanus rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, free hand pressing on the small of your spine. “The Snow’s, a bunch of needy whores. Can’t have that, now can we, love?” 

You shook your head, eyes glassy and glazed with desire and the threat of tears from before. Corio grinned, toothy and salacious, pushing into you slowly, without warning. You gasped, biting at the back of your hand. The stretch was burning from the absence, eyes rolling back in pleasure at how he filled you. 

You missed him, missed this feeling more than words could describe. His cock splitting you with every slow, quickening roll of his hips. Fingertips sunk into your hips as he rutted into you. 

“You’ll be good f’me now? Be my good girl? I know you can be. Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you later, I promise, my love.” Corio rasped, breath hot in your ear, folded over your back, buried so deep in your pussy you were sure you were seeing stars. 

You were close, orgasm pulling the coil in your belly tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hips. The way he fucked himself into you, hard and fast and little sloppy, breathy whines of moans pressed into your bare shoulder, trying to muffle your favorite melody. You whined, head tipping back towards him, neck exposed out of habit.

Then Corio grunted. His hips flush to yours, stilling, hot spurts of warmth filling your cunt. You gasped, gripping at the shelf like it was your orgasm, dwindling away just as furiously as it came. Coriolanus’ chest heaved, breath shaky, pupils blown when they met yours. 

You gaped at him, watching as he grabbed the panties from his jacket. You knew he would be quick, it had been a while after all, but Corio always let you cum first. 

Unless…

“Don’t give me that look.” Corio scoffed, a taunting smirk pulling at his lips. “You didn’t really think I’d reward you? After you were so bad?” 

You blinked, lip quivering lightly. His thumb pressed to it, shaking his head. “No, no, no, there will be none of that.” He commanded. “You didn’t earn it, this time.” He dropped to his knees, wrapping one hand around your ankle, lifting it so you stepped into your panties. 

“You can still earn one later,” Corio continued, eyes bright with wicked excitement, like when he was watching the games- watching his torturous ideas come to life. You hissed at the lacy fabric, rough against the sensitive skin of your ass. “If you’re good.” His pillowy lips pressed a soft kiss to each of your reddened cheeks, pulling down the material of your dress. 

“Corio, I-I,” Your legs pressed together, feeling his release move as you stood, threatening to spill out of you. “I can’t keep this in me all night-” 

“-You can.” Coriolanus nodded firmly, lifting his own pants. “And you will.” His eyes darkened at the order, eyes never leaving yours as he fastened his own pants back. “You will keep every single drop in and maybe- maybe I’ll reward you when we get home.” 

Your pussy ached, clenching at the thought, feeling his seed spill into the thin materials of your panties. Corio grinned wickedly, smoothing down his hair before unlocking the door. He checked the hall before stepping out, offering his arm to you. You clung onto the silk of his shirt like a lifeline, legs a little unsteady and shaking still. 

“If you’re good. If you follow all my rules,” Coriolanus nodded to the guard, letting them open the door for the two of you, sauntering back into the party. “I might eat it out of you later.” 

“Corio,” You hissed, blushing, ducking your head towards him to hide your flustered smile. 

The entire night, you clung to Coriolanus, his prized possession wrapped on his arm, on display for all of Panem’s elite to see. His good girl, his obedient wife. One who smiled politely, made small talk about the weather and the games, sipped on her champagne and didn’t get sloppily drunk like the Stillwells’ wife. Everyone waved off the glassy gaze in your eyes as affection, your matching flush for the honeymoon phase still going strong. 

And they weren’t entirely wrong. 

That night, Coriolanus was true to his word. Your legs up in the air, his face between your thighs, pulling every filthy sound possible from you until the early hours of the morning. You could barely walk the next morning, sore and shaky legs, shifting in your seat during the reaping, all while Corio wore a smug smile.

[tgcg]

bad mouther, hole master

TG: kissing with tongue is gross as hell

CG: COME THE FUCK OFF IT.

TG: what

CG: I'M SAYING SHUT UP.

TG: oh

CG: IT'S NOT THAT WEIRD. IT'S LIKE THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF REGULAR KISSING TO EVENTUALLY INCLUDE THAT. IF YOU HAD ANY SEMBLANCE OF ROMANCE GHOSTING THROUGH THE DEVOLVING REMNANTS OF YOUR THINKPAN YOU'D APPRECIATE WHAT IT BRINGS TO THE NUTRITION PLATFORM OF ANY CONSENTING CONCUPISCENT RELATIONSHIP!

TG: youre talking about it like its a goddamn military weapon or some shit

TG: some kinda scientific fuckin method to fondle a dudes mouth with your own mouth thats

TG: thats gross

TG: this isnt supposed to be a debate before fuckin congress on the pros and cons of getting your mack on

TG: its i would say a reasonably personal thing to react about and thats just my reaction man you dont gotta arbitrate it

TG: and like why the hell do they have to linger on it so long in these movies do they really want me to immerse myself in people necking each other that much

TG: roll the sounds around in my earholes like im swilling a fine fuckin wine

TG: well my professional opinion is that shit tastes and sounds mad gross and tbh i havent seen a single movie where it was close to being any kind of necessary

TG: its just a cringy waste of everyones time

CG: YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, AND I DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR IGNORANCE GASH, YOU LUMP OF TIGHT-LIPPED CLUELESSNESS.

TG: did you just homestar me

CG: FOR THE SAKE OF ARGUMENT, SINCE YOU'RE APPARENTLY DESPERATE TO START SHIT WITH ME RIGHT NOW: HAVE YOU EVER EVEN DONE IT?

TG: hell no

CG: THANK YOU FOR PROVING MY POINT.

TG: proving your point--

TG: bro have uh

TG: have YOU???

CG: EXCUSE ME? HAVE I WHAT?

TG: come on

TG: i walked into this stupid conversation with a fucking shovel and by god am i digging myself a damn hole big and wide enough for every dave across time to squeeze in so i might as well get cosy in this shit before we all start collectively shoving dirt in our mouths

TG: bet your ass im taking you down with me though

TG: grab your spade and get digging man

CG: GRAB MY WHAT????????

TG: just tell me

CG: ???????!!!!!!!!

TG: karkat

CG: NO!

TG: f-

CG: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!!! WHAT PART OF "SHUT UP" DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND????

TG: wait no

TG: oh my god dude

TG: you can spin that shit all you want but you can do it the hell away from me

TG: i do not need to be hip to your weirdo foursquare fantasies

TG: patently not my business

CG: STOP RIGHT THERE. JUST SHUT IT. I AM PUTTING US OUT OF OUR MISERY RIGHT NOW. I AM CONDUCTING AN ACT OF MERCY ON THIS INSANE FUCKING CONVERSATION AND YOU ARE GOING TO ZIP YOUR LIPS AND TAKE IT.

CG: HERE IT IS: YOUR SINGLE OPPORTUNITY TO PRETEND YOU NEVER SAID THAT TO ME. I AM GOING TO FORGET YOU MADE A COMPLETE MOCKERY OF ME AND MY CULTURE THIS ONE TIME. AND LET YOU CONTINUE TO DIG YOUR STUPID, SHITTY HOLE.

CG: AND DAVE, I AM BEGGING YOU NOT TO WASTE IT.

CG: TO ANSWER YOUR SHOCKINGLY INAPPROPRIATE QUESTION, NO I HAVE NOT DONE IT.

CG: WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK.

CG: HAPPY?

TG: ……..

TG: way to defuse the situation solid work

TG: real gold star effort grabbin that lit wick and blowing on it

TG: ok first of all you asked me first so dont act like im the one being a weirdo about this

TG: second of all i didnt mean it like that and you know it

TG: THIRD of all what the hell was the point of engaging the knightly theatrics then if you cant even verify that shit

CG: WELL FUCK, SORRY DAVE! I GUESS I'M JUST A FUCKING ROMANCE ENTHUSIAST! I GUESS I GIVE A MAJOR SHIT ABOUT THE THING YOU'RE OPENLY MOCKING TO MY FACE! IS THAT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR YOU TO WRAP YOUR THOUGHT SPONGE AROUND?

CG: AND IT WAS COMPLETELY REASONABLE FOR ME TO ASK YOU THAT, YOU CONGEALED FETID NOOKSTAIN! MY STATUS ON THE MATTER HAS LITERALLY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE POINT EITHER OF US IS TRYING TO MAKE.

CG: TRY TO KEEP YOUR NUGBONE FROM CAVING IN ON ITSELF WHEN I DROP THIS BOMBSHELL: I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE OPINIONS ON THINGS I ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT, EVEN IF I HAVEN'T DONE THEM! I DON'T JUST GO TROUNCING THE FUCK ABOUT LOBBING MY UNFOUNDED OPINIONS AT PEOPLE LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. UNLIKE SOMEONE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INVOLVED IN THIS CONVERSATION WE'RE HAVING RIGHT NOW!

TG: youre

CG: I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU BY THE WAY. THE SOMEONE IS YOU.

TG: oh gimme a break

TG: bro youre going apeshit over something you havent even done

TG: you know what that sounds like to me it sounds like an overcompensating fake fan who doesnt get any

TG: you heard of troll napoleon complex

CG: AT LEAST I ACTUALLY FORMED MY OPINION BASED ON CAREFUL CONSIDERATION --

TG: -- oh yeah i bet huh

CG: -- INSTEAD OF JUST BANKING ON NUBJERK --

TG: -- not a real thing you just said

CG: -- REACTIONS AND WRINKLING MY SNIFF NUB AT ANY SIGNS OF GENUINE PHYSICAL INTIMACY!

TG: stop saying nub

CG: YOU EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED BULGEWAD

TG: not too much worse than being a perpetual fountain of emotional diarrhea

CG: DON'T YOU DARE.

CG: DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO USE THAT AS A "GOTCHA", YOU--… YOU! FUCK!

TG: dude did you actually run out of insults

TG: okay this is getting concerning

TG: youre the international dude of verbal dunks

TG: that can not be happening

CG: AAGHRJRGHJRGRHJAGHRJGRHJAGRHJRGRHJRGRHRJR

TG: you cant run out of em youre like the ultimate peddler of hate

CG: YOU DON'T THINK I'M CRITICALLY AWARE OF THE HOOFBEASTSHIT I'M SPEWING NIGH FUCKING CONSTANTLY?! I AM PAINFULLY COGNIZANT OF HOW MORONIC EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS!!!!

TG: feel like ive done some damage here

CG: ESPECIALLY MYSELF!

TG: alright bud time to calm down

CG: YOU CALM DOWN!!!!

TG: okay whatever!

CG: WHATEVER!!!!!!!!

TG: jeez

…

TG: here

…

CG: UGH.

TG: yeah

TG: really glad stuff like this happens in private

CG: YEAH. SAME HERE.

CG: JEGUS, CAN WE GO BACK TO BEFORE WE HAD THIS CONVERSATION? I DON'T ASK YOU MANY FAVORS, SO SURELY YOUR SLURRY OF ILL-DEFINED TIME POWERS CAN ALLOW YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

CG: JUST LIKE, WIPE THAT WHOLE THING OFF THE SLATE.

CG: LET'S START OVER. SAY, FIVE MINUTES AGO. HOW DOES THAT SOUND?

TG: what conversation?

CG: OKAY, GOTCHA.

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

[bigfatbimbo]

I’m a Bad Liar with a Savior Complex —

Part two,, 2k words,, Vox x reader

a/n — THIS IS A FOLLOW UP FIC OF THE FIRST ONE BY THE WAY. For those who didn’t know even though I literally spelled it out in the title.

warnings — Angst, toxic relationships, mild fluff, discussion of injuries, read the first part first!

summary — Part two of ‘I’m a Bad Liar with a Savior Complex’ where Vox comes to the reader after a particularly bad fight with Val.

“I love you.”

The words echoed throughout your mind as you drifted in and out of consciousness. I love you. 

What a load of bullshit. Vox didn’t love you, he just loved your attention and wanted to keep it for as long as possible. That had to be it.

But he was so tired, he couldn’t have possibly had control over what he was saying. And besides, the idea that everything Vox says is perfectly calculated is giving him way too much credit.

Isn’t that what got him into this mess in the first place? Of course, it was the sloppiness of his words that cause that crack in his screen.

But you didn’t want to underestimate him. He could get what he wanted easily in most circumstances.

His emotions usually got the best of him, yeah. But in this case? You weren’t sure. Is that what happened?

You wonder vaguely if he got caught up in the moment and blurted out the first thing he thought. But that would imply that, at least a part of his subconscious meant it.

No, you didn’t want that. In fact, you hoped it was just a tactic to get more out of you. That would make things a whole lot easier. 

Oh well, an issue for the morning, you supposed. In his sleep, Vox had turned over on his side, back pressed up to your stomach.

You gave into the fatigue and snuggled in closer to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms around his middle.

With one final sigh at the events of the night, you shut your eyes and waited for sleep to take you.

When you awoke, Vox was still asleep. But you were sure it was morning, maybe even past noon.

Patiently, you waited for a little while for Vox to wake before going to get coffee. However, after a good ten minutes, you figured he wasn’t done sleeping.

God, it had to be about tem hours now, you thought lazily as you stretch on the end of the bed. Poor guy had a rough night. 

With that, you head to the kitchen, pouring yourself and Vox, just in case, a cup of coffee. You do your usual morning routine, brushing your teeth, watching TV on the couch, things like that. 

After about an hour, and after reheating Vox’s coffee, you decide to head back into your room to check on him. 

He was sound asleep, screen completely dark and still curled up on his side. You sigh at the sight, he looked adorable. 

Once again, you climb into bed with him, holding him close to you. You plant a kiss on his neck and, finally, he stirs.

He arched his back, stretching and yawning as his screen powered on. Without thinking, he sleepily turned over in your arms and nuzzled into your neck.

He winced when your chin bumped the bandages on his screen. You rub his back and kiss his forehead, soothing him awake.

“Morning, sleeping beauty. How you feeling?” You speak softly, voice still gravely from not having spoken all day.

He hummed quietly, “Not great considering half of my face is gone.” 

And we’re back to snarky comments, but it was better than him crying. 

You nod your head and breathe out a laugh, “Yeah, well you look like you’re holding up pretty decently. Oh, I got you coffee.”

He doesn’t sit up, “Not yet.” 

“Are you sure? It might get cold—“

“Just not yet,” He looked up at you longingly, subconsciously holding onto your shirt tighter. “I just woke up, give me a minute before you shoving liquids down my throat.” 

In reality, Vox didn’t want a reason to get up. Although he appreciated the thought, he’d rather you not have gotten him coffee in the first place.

He had a terrible sinking feeling. One that told him, if you get up, you’ll never get this moment back. And he liked this moment; waking up in your arms, exchanging banter while still tired.

It all felt so domestic. Something that, usually, Vox wouldn’t like. But with you it felt different. It contrasted so heavily with his usual life, Valentino aside, just the stress of running Voxtech in general. 

And yeah, he didn’t feel perfectly right now, but he felt okay being taken care of like this. The idea of getting up and leaving was weighing on him.

Although with lack of better judgment, Vox waited for you to pick up on this. 

If you did, it wasn’t shown.

“You don’t have to run into work soon, do you?” you inquire, tracing up Vox’s back with your nails.

“Not today, no. Well, I mean, if I want a new screen then yes,” Vox paused, “But I don’t have to do that for a while.”

The last part was added quickly and uncharacteristically hesitant. You were starting to pick up on it now, his reluctance to leave.

You think for a moment, “You know, you could hang around the apartment for as long as you want too.”

He nodded, “Well, I don’t know if i’m in much of a state to leave, anyways. Damn… fucked up face.”

And with that it’s decided, Vox wasn’t going to leave until he felt like it. Which, for all either of you cared at the time being, could have been never.

The day passed in small sequences. Just as you suspected, Vox acted almost completely normal, as if his head injury had never happened. Even though it was clearly bothering him. 

However, he did surprise you in a couple ways. One, he was still here instead of in Valentino’s arms ‘making up’ and, more accurately, making out. And two, he was far more touchy than usual, in a physical sense. 

Every pat your back or hand on your shoulder lasted five seconds to long, lingering in an unbearably noticeable way. 

Although you continued the day fairly normally, despite these setbacks, Vox faced a dilemma.

A simple one, on the surface at least; the question of why you were helping him? If Vox wasn’t mistaken, and he so rarely was, you were supposed to be just a sex thing.

Then why did this feel like more? Why did he feel a deep desire for you, one that goes past getting his dick wet. He wanted you like this, kind and caring. He felt as if, at the moment, he needed it.

Almost a foreign feeling. Almost.

He knew all of the pride ring needed him for electricity, that was simple. He needed them for power in a more metaphorical sense.

And similarly, Valentino needed him too. And it was abundantly clear the feeling was mutual. What’d they get out of that? Sex, the support of a powerful individual, eachothers less-than-ideal company.

Much like that, he couldn’t quite place the origin of his need for you. But this felt different, it wasn’t codependency. It was a sense of unwarranted generosity, the lack of any overarching deal or necessity for one another out of greed or toxic attachment.

You treated him with kindness simply because you were kind. Now, that was a foreign feeling. He wondered vaguely if he would do the same for you. He hoped he would. In reality, he knew he wouldn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t cut out for this kind of life. But maybe, at this very moment in time, he didn’t care. He wasn’t really planning his every step from this point on, nor did he want to be.

Of course, usually, yes that would be the actions taken to ensure nothing bad comes of this. But a large part of him didn’t want to think about anything bad happening because of this.

That would make your relationship, whatever it was, just like everything he was holding it above. 

“You good there, Vox?” You smile over to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You two sat on the couch together, watching tv lazily. Your knees were pulled up onto the couch, touching the base of his thighs. He on the other hand, didn’t look comfortable at all.

In fact, he looked tense.

You rub his shoulder encouragingly. He frowns deeply and diverts his gaze. Your smile. He was already getting used to your smile.

Although, he didn’t know how much time he had left with it. Knowing himself, no matter how hard he tried, Val would enter the picture again, just like he always does.

Just like how Vox always lets him. More than ‘lets,’ fully embraces, more like. He not only enables that behavior, he encourages it.

“I’m fine,” he answered shortly. Oh, very nice, he thought, i’m sure that snippy response wouldn’t push anyone away.

“Hey,” you say so softly that Vox winces at your gentleness, “Tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe I can try to fix it.”

Vox breathes out a bitter laugh and then points to his broken face, “Wow, I fucking wonder.” 

You frown and pull back, “I know that’s not all.” 

Vox stayed silent before leaning towards you and out stretching his arms slightly. It was a perfect indirect way of inviting a hug.

You accept, pulling him in and wrapping your hands around his middle, rubbing his back. He slinks his arms around your neck and scooting closer to you.

“I could go with you, you know?” You say quietly.

“Um, where?”

“Your office. To get the new screen? So you wouldn’t—“ so he wouldn’t have to be alone, but you don’t say that. You just imply it. “—so you wouldn’t have to drive there with half a face. Feels dangerous.”

He sunk deeper in your arms, almost letting out a sigh of relief, “That’s a good idea. Not exactly in the state to drive, if you can’t tell.”

You drive him to the Vees building and offer to wait in the car, but for whatever stupid reason, he insists you come in.

His not even particularly sure why, he just does. Vox is, in every other scenario, sure about everything he does. There’s always a reason for every move. 

But with you, that wasn’t necessarily true. That bothered him. 

The walk in is easy enough, same with the elevator ride to his office. Once you step into the terrible machine, you can’t help but get a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach. 

As if a fire-breathing dragon awaits the other side of the door to snatch Vox up and take him away. 

However, when the doors open, there is no dragon. There isn’t anyone. Just Vox’s office, to which he leads the way as you two walk in.

“This should just take a second. I know I put the fucker around here somewhere,” Vox shifts around in his desk cabinets for his new parts. 

That’s when you hear him. The silent calm in the room is broken when a voice calls from down the hall. 

You don’t hear what it says, nor do you really care about the specifics. The specifics don’t matter when you see the look on Vox’s face. 

It isn’t a fire breathing dragon, it isn’t even a monster. Simply, a moth. But oh, how you hated it.

Vox spares you a glance before calling back to the voice. In your mind, it doesn’t matter what he said either. In fact, it’s all relatively muffled. You know that was it, you know you just lost him. 

Whatever today was, it was over. Just as you suspected, the routine would kick back in. A good fuck, maybe some cuddling, not seeing each other for days at a time, rinse and repeat.

In truth, Vox was gone the second he stepped into his office. This was his environment, not the softly lit surroundings of your apartment.

The love he felt for you last night would be absent from his mind until the next time he comes to you to lick his wounds.

You shove your hands in your pockets. Vox spares you a hesitant glance before walking away to follow Valentinos voice. 

That was the difference between you too, Vox’s love was conditional, yours was not. 

It was as simple as that and, unfortunately, you both knew that. While as a part of Vox hated himself for it, you accepted it with an empty dullness.

You knew his ‘I love you’ wouldn’t last, just like you knew he wasn’t being truthful about how his screen broke.

After all, he was a bad liar.

a/n — What if I said this fic takes place in the same timeline as my ‘I Could be a Better Boyfriend’ fic. And then what if I lied and said I was planning that all along?

What then?

also last minute edit but pretty sure @imsoboredlmfao wanted to be tagged so here it is!

[jaeyunverse]

the 24-hour dating challenge

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, crack, mutual pining, suggestive, best friends to lovers, influencer au

wc: 8145

warnings: profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad sawry, you can’t see the mutual pining but that’s a skill issue on my part bc i swear it’s there, fic is completely from sunghoon’s pov, this was supposed to be short and sweet but it got kinda spicy towards the end LMAOAO but nothing happens so dw!!

summary: being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

moodboard: one ☆ two

note: omg i didn’t think i would struggle w this oneshot but i lowkey did w the last part ☹️ i think it’s bc it has been a while since i raw dogged a fic HAHDHS anyway i hope the end doesn’t seem super abrupt and y’all enjoy! i would love to hear your thoughts + feedback :’)

inspiration: evelyn and fred (♡)

masterlist

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes were bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead, and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit actually went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was embarrassingly long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”

There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date. 

Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task. Originally, he’d figured he would do a quick Google search and plan a day according to the results shown.

Unfortunately, most activities on the list were things the two of you already did on a normal basis. He’d racked his brain to think of a unique idea after scrolling through the internet for hours on end and coming up empty-handed. 

Karaoke? Check. Restaurant hopping? Psh, you did that every weekend. Rock climbing? He was scared of heights. Bowling? Boring. Concert? None of your favourite artists were in town. Clubbing? He would rather spend quality time with you than get both of you wasted. Arcade? Basic and low-budget; he didn’t want to be cheap. Road-trip? Needed more than just 24 hours.

Sunghoon wondered if he was the problem. He’d shot down every option he’d come across so far by classifying it as not good enough. His stress levels were skyrocketing trying to make your 24-hour relationship perfect.

An entire day’s research had ended up being fruitless. You’d decided to go through with the challenge on Sunday, so he only had tomorrow to come up with something satisfactory. 

Sighing, Sunghoon rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He eyed his phone on the bedside table for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should just call you and ask if you had anything in mind. 

Before he could rethink his choice, he picked up the device and dialled you. 

“Hey.” Your voice on the other end was deep and hoarse. A glance at the wall clock informed Sunghoon it was past midnight, and he’d likely woken you up. Guilt twisted his stomach. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was late,” he mumbled. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I was watching a movie and passed out halfway through it. I needed to finish it anyway.” 

Lying back on his bed, Sunghoon inquired, “Ready or not?”

“Yeah.” You huffed a laugh. “I finally got around to seeing it. Your choice, as always, is impeccable.” 

Though you couldn’t see him, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you dozed off in the middle of it?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s because I’m not a stupid nocturnal with no care for their sleep cycle and health.” 

“Ouch.” Sunghoon clutched his chest. He could practically hear you roll your eyes. “No need to be so harsh.”

You hummed absent-mindedly, a yawn escaping your lips. “Was there a reason you hit me up, or can I get back to the movie?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Do you have any suggestions for the challenge? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I haven’t come up with anything interesting.” 

“Not really. I tried researching a bit, and there isn’t much we don’t already do. I’m starting to wonder if the only difference between a platonic and romantic relationship is physical intimacy. I’m sure we can reach a consensus though,” you added.  

Sunghoon groaned. “This is proving to be more difficult than I—”

“WAIT!” you interrupted him with an exclaim. “How about a picnic date? We’ve been talking about going on one with the rest of our friends for ages, but it’s never worked out. Let’s go—just the two of us. We can choose outfits for each other too! I’ll order you something online, and you do the same for me. We can spend the rest of our day doing whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Right?” you giggled. “Maybe we can spread a blanket in the park under a tree and have a nice brunch. I’ll organise it!”

“I’ll take care of dinner and plan another activity for us to do between the two meals.” He grinned. “Looks like we might actually be able to pull this off, Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to film a video,” you admitted.

Sunghoon’s heart fluttered, and his lips widened into a smile. “Me too.”

Everything was set. You’d received the dress Sunghoon had ordered for you, and he’d taken delivery of the one you’d bought for him.

Upon opening the package, Sunghoon was surprised to see you’d accidentally ended up matching outfits. While he’d chosen a white summer dress with blue flowers for you, you’d picked out a white graphic tee and low-rise, faded blue, baggy jeans for him. 

The fit was minimal—something that he would have purchased if he’d seen it in a mall. 

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair, Sunghoon made a beeline for his car. He shot you a quick text regarding his ETA before backing the vehicle out of his driveway.

[hoon]: omw be there in 10

[y/n]: okie i’ll wait for u. call me when ur outside!!!!!!!!!

Averting his gaze to the road again, Sunghoon took a deep breath. He’d finally planned the perfect day out. It took a lot of effort and coordination on his part, but the several favours he had to call in were worth it. 

He’d probably gone over the top, especially considering the fact that this wasn’t even real, but he was determined not to half-ass anything. He had one chance, and he’d damn well make sure he didn’t waste it.

Turning the corner of your house, Sunghoon dialled your number. “I’m here.” 

“Coming,” you popped, the sound of your footsteps descending the stairs audible through the call. 

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, got rid of his sunglasses and exited the car. Your door opened a few seconds later, and Sunghoon’s world slipped from under his feet. 

God, you were beautiful. So beautiful and so fucking pretty in the dress he’d chosen for you. The material fit you perfectly—it accentuated your upper body and was flowy from your lower waist. The dress was almost ankle-length with a side slit that began at your upper thigh. Your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, a gold pendant filling the empty space the deep square neckline left in its wake. 

Your left shoulder was carrying a tote bag, and your right hand was holding a large picnic basket. Much to Sunghoon’s surprise, your free hand was wrapped around a bouquet too. 

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he took the basket from you and placed it inside the car. “You look amazing, sunshine,” he breathed. “Just—wow.”

Giggling, you did a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I love what you’ve done with your hair. It makes you more attractive.”

Sunghoon mock-saluted and bowed dramatically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Took me ten minutes to style it.” Glancing at the flowers in your hand, he asked, “You got me flowers?” 

Maybe his eyesight was faulty, but Sunghoon felt your entire demeanour suddenly change. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you averted your gaze from his and shyly mumbled, “You took it upon yourself to plan the majority of the day. The least I could do was gift you some flowers.” 

Right when Sunghoon thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, you went ahead and did this. He’d never received flowers in his life before, and the gesture meant everything to him. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took the bouquet from you. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with gratitude. “Don’t kill me, but I don’t know the name of these flowers.” 

Laughing, you pinched his cheek. “They’re asters.” 

“What do they mean?” 

“Why don’t you search it up when you go home?” you quipped. “Let me know once you find out.”  

Sunghoon shrugged and handed you the flowers he’d bought for you. “Sunflowers for my sunshine.” 

A wide grin broke across your lips. “They’re my favourite!” 

“I know, dummy,” he said, flicking your forehead and opening the passenger’s door for you. “That’s why I got them for you.” 

“Be nice!” you complained as he walked around the car. Taking a seat beside you, he started the engine and began driving. “I’m your girlfriend!” 

“I just opened the door for you,” Sunghoon pointed out, promptly ignoring the way his heart rate picked up. “I think I’m being gentlemanly enough.” 

“That’s not a word.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“This is why you get no bitches.”

“I got you.”

“Are you calling me a bitch?”

“I’m calling you mine.”

Snorting, you said, “Not your best save, Park.” 

Biting down the smile threatening to break across his lips, Sunghoon said, “I’ll survive, but you should really start recording.” 

“Right,” you gasped, your eyes widening. Fetching the DSLR from your tote bag and switching it on, you placed it on the dashboard carefully. After ensuring that the camera was rolling, you began, “I’m in the car with Sunghoon right now. He just picked me up, but I lowkey forgot to record it.”

“Y/N was too busy gawking at me,” Sunghoon teased and raised an eyebrow at the lens. “I’m too attractive for my own good.” 

“Nobody’s buying your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “But if you do think he looks cute, it’s because I chose his outfit.” 

“And if you think she looks beautiful, that’s because I chose her outfit.” 

You nodded. “He did. We thought kicking off the challenge this way would be cool. Clothes were ordered by both of us individually, which means neither of us had any idea what had been chosen by the other until we met ten minutes ago. Crazy how we still ended up matching.”

“We exchanged flowers too. Y/N got me asters, and I got her sunflowers.” 

“Hoon has no idea what asters signify,” you commented and nudged him with your elbow. “He didn’t even know the flowers I gifted him were asters.”

“Don’t shame me for not being a nerd!” Sunghoon defended himself. “Only you can be the kind of person who reads The Language of Flowers and indulges in floriography because they’re bored.” 

 “Aaaand the worst boyfriend award goes to this guy sitting right next to me,” you announced, shooting him a nasty glare. “He’s been annoying me from the moment he came to pick me up.”

“I opened the door for you!”

“How long are you going to milk the one gentlemanly thing you did?” 

Sunghoon scoffed in disbelief. “I thought gentlemanly wasn’t a word.”

“I lied,” you popped and grinned cheekily. 

“The problem with this relationship is you, woman, not me.”

Laughing, you turned to the camera again. “We’re going on multiple dates today. I’ve organised a picnic brunch, and Hoon has organised dinner.”

“It’s a surprise,” Sunghoon explained. “But I can assure you that it’s going to be the coolest thing ever.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe him. He always gives the best surprises. Anyway, I’m going to stop recording now, and I’ll see you guys once we reach the park. I think we’re almost there.” 

“Five minutes,” Sunghoon provided. 

You grabbed the DSLR and brought it close to your face. Cupping your hand over the lens as if you were telling it a secret, you whispered, “T-minus five minutes to the best picnic date ever. Bye!”

Despite it being June and most kids being on vacation, the park wasn’t crowded. 

Even though it was almost 10:30 and the sun was merciless, there were plenty of people jogging on the track. Sunghoon spotted a laughter club in session a few hundred metres away from where you’d laid your blanket under the tree.

Thanks to the clear sky and blowing wind, more than a few people had taken out their own picnic baskets and decided to enjoy the weather. A bunch of middle-schoolers were playing basketball about fifty metres away from your tree, and though Sunghoon would have appreciated the peace, it was fun to watch them run around on the court. 

You’d set up the camera immediately upon arrival. Even though it was still rolling, neither of you were aware of it. It lay forgotten to the side, and as far as Sunghoon was concerned, it was just the two of you.

“It’s a beautiful day,” you mumbled, gathering your strands and tying them up in a messy bun. “Really fucking hot though.” 

“You have some relief, at least,” Sunghoon said, pointing at your exposed shoulders and flowing dress. “I’m fully covered and positively dying in here.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Oops. That’s my bad.” 

Laughing, Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “What did you get for us to eat in that basket of yours?” he asked. “It was pretty heavy.” 

“Nothing much,” you answered and dragged the basket closer to you. Opening the lid, you pulled out Tupperware containing watermelons, muskmelons and mango slices. You’d also prepared a heart-shaped pizza and baked half a dozen macarons. Finally, you fetched a bottle filled with peach-iced tea and a pair of champagne glasses. 

Sunghoon gaped at the assortment of food you’d arranged. “Did you make everything by yourself?” 

“I wish,” you snorted. “Mom made the macarons and delivered them via FedEx. I don’t have the patience to bake.”

“Okay, but this is still crazy,” Sunghoon said, amazement evident in his tone. “The amount of effort you’ve put in is insane.” 

Blushing, you shoved his shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m complimenting you!” he exclaimed, and served himself a piece of the pizza. “Bringing homemade food is the best thing you could’ve done. And God, this is delicious. I’m going to wife you right now.” 

You laughed incredulously. “Slow down, Romeo. We just started dating. How about you show me a good time first?” 

This. This was exactly the reason why Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting. 

The only reason he was afraid of confessing his feelings was that he didn’t know much of the flirting was real. It was the dynamic of your friendship—neither of you thought it was weird making suggestive comments. You were too comfortable with each other to let such things bother you. 

Sunghoon could no longer tell whether your relationship was still platonic. He was too hopelessly in love with you to keep knowing the difference between a joke and genuineness. His heart surged every time you said something only a romantic partner would, and his heart shattered every time he reminded himself that you didn’t actually mean it. 

You never meant it. 

But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up. The minuscule part of him that hated you for the pain you were causing him was nothing compared to the part of him that loved you unconditionally. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. “In front of everyone?”

“You’re so gross!” you snickered, your eyes shining with mischief. “I obviously mean when we get home!” 

I’m going to kill myself, Sunghoon thought. I’m going to kill myself before she kills me.   

The two of you had finished eating almost thirty minutes ago. Now, you were just lying on the blanket and staring at the sky, having conversations about the most random topics. 

You were talking shit about some know-it-all guy in your physics class, but Sunghoon wasn’t really paying any attention to what you were saying.

He was still stuck on what had happened an hour ago when you’d urged him to feed you because “that was what couples did.” 

Sunghoon didn’t give a shit what couples did. His biggest problem at the moment was his mind replaying the incident like a broken record. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d already known he was being an idiot by agreeing to come on this date, but he never thought he’d regret his decision this quickly.

“Are you okay?” 

Blinking, Sunghoon spared you a glance. “Peachy.” 

“Those kids over there are calling us,” you told him, pointing to the basketball court. “We should go see what they want.” 

Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet and gave you a hand. Leaving the DSLR under the tree wouldn’t have been safe, so you grabbed it and the two of you made your way to the children waiting for you. 

“Hey,” a perky boy greeted you enthusiastically. “I’m Hyun. We’ve been playing basketball for the past several hours. The team that wins 6 out of 11 matches has to treat the other team to ice cream. Unfortunately, 2 of our friends left, and now it’s just the 6 of us divided into 2 teams. We really don’t want to play half-court, but we can’t play full-court with a team of only 3 each. Do you guys want to play the last few matches with us? One match only lasts 15 minutes.” 

Sunghoon exchanged a look with you. Then, you glanced at your spot under the tree. Lastly, you checked out your outfit—the slit exposing most of your leg and the lack of coverage for your shoulders.

“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt in my car,” he informed you. 

You took a moment to weigh your options. Honestly, playing in the open when the sun was out to torture everyone didn’t sound appealing. There was also the issue of you needing to switch outfits, and you didn’t know if you wanted to take the effort of changing inside Sunghoon’s car. 

But kids had always been your weak spot and the little rascals were staring you down with their puppy eyes. 

You sighed. “Fine. We’re in.”

“I haven’t played in a while,” Sunghoon admitted. “I think it’s been over 6 months.” 

“I haven’t played since varsity girls either,” you said. The kids had left to take a break a few minutes ago and the court was empty save for the two of you.

You’d changed into his clothes, but the shirt was too long for you. So, you’d requested him to tie the extra into a knot at the back. Thankfully, the shorts could be tightened at the waist with lace. 

Sunghoon could get used to you wearing his wardrobe. 

He idly dribbled the ball the kids had given to him for safekeeping while you stretched your stiff muscles. “Then I guess we get to evaluate whose skills have become more rusty.”

“Free shots?” you asked, eyes alight with a competitive fire and a smirk tugging at your lips. “We can test our aim and get a feel of the baskets on this court. It would be a good warm-up exercise.”  

Sunghoon poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Bring your camera here. Record me from up close. I’m going to go for a layup.”

“Wow,” you scoffed but did as you were told nonetheless. Before stepping onto the court, you’d filmed Sunghoon and yourself, explaining that you were about to play basketball with a bunch of kids. Naturally, you’d decided not to record the match in order to respect the privacy of the children. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I’m telling you right now that I won’t care if you miss the shot. I will use it to humiliate you in the video.” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. 

You switched on the DSLR and pointed the lens at him. “We’re doing free shots till the kids come back from their break,” you said. “Hoon’s convinced he can land a layup even though he hasn’t touched a ball for several months.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” Sunghoon grumbled as he walked to the 3-pointer line. “It’s not like I’ve completely forgotten how to play. I’m pretty sure I can nail a simple shot.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know what,” he called. “I’m going to dedicate this layup to you so that when I make it, you’ll know not to doubt my athletic prowess.”

All you did was raise an eyebrow. 

“This one’s for you, babe!” Sunghoon announced and began running. The ball was a number 6—smaller than the size 7 he was used to. The grip was worn due to excessive use, but he still had complete control over it. 

However, he misjudged the distance from the hoop. He realised a second too late that he’d taken the first step of the layup later than he was supposed to. 

The ball collided against the rim and rebounded.

“Air ball!” you hollered and zoomed into Sunghoon’s face. “Athletic prowess found to be missing! What a shame!” 

His cheeks, along with the tips of his ears, were red with embarrassment. He couldn’t even bring himself to look into the camera after making such a big fool out of himself.

“I am begging you, Y/N. Can we please edit that part out?” 

“I’m kicking your ass, Park.”

“I suggest you take the over-confidence down a notch.” 

You smirked, dribbling the basketball in place. Sunghoon was blocking the way to your side of the court, and each of the kids on your team had a man on them. Playing in the sun for so long must have tired them out because no one was making an effort to get rid of the shield standing in front of them.

The last match was a 1v1 at this point.  

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” you said, and dribbled the ball from between his legs. 

Sunghoon cursed under his breath and chased after you, but you were speeding away from him faster than he could keep up. The layup was clean and effortless. You barely broke a sweat. 

“SUCK IT!” you screamed. “Your team is going down!” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. He watched your team—Hyun, Chul and Dae—do the victory dance you’d taught them. It was hilarious because none of you had any coordination. The arm wave move made it seem as though all of you were having a seizure. 

“We still have fifteen seconds of the match left,” he pointed out, and pat Iseul’s back in reassurance. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.” 

 “You’re four points behind. Just admit defeat,” Dae said. “We’ve won!” 

“We’re not surrendering,” Hajoon said angrily. “Sunghoon will make sure we win.”

“Boys!” you interrupted loudly. “Let’s finish the championship sportingly. We’re playing for fun.” 

Chul muttered something under his breath that Sunghoon and you chose to ignore. 

“Seojoon,” Sunghoon called quietly. “Now that we have possession of the ball, I need you to pass it to me from below. Then I need Hajoon and Iseul to gang up on Y/N. Don’t push or shove; just keep her away. The worst thing we can do is commit a foul. The rest of the boys won’t be a problem, but I’ll need Seojoon to act as my shield in case they try to take the ball from me. Do not let anyone come near me under any circumstances. I’m going to go for a 5-pointer.”

The trio audibly gasped. 

Iseul nervously asked, “Are you sure you can score?” 

“Not without the three of you helping me out.” Sunghoon nodded. “Y/N is quick and slippery. Keep your eye on her. We’ll lose if she gets possession of the ball. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

The boys let out a sound of agreement and dispersed, taking their respective positions. 

Sunghoon searched for you, and when your gazes met, he made a gesture of slitting his throat. This time, you rolled your eyes and dismissed him without a word. 

“Let’s start,” you announced with a clap and got into position. He noticed you were standing away from the basket. The rest of your team was too. It dawned on Sunghoon that you’d positioned everyone in a way that would prevent them from committing a foul which would grant his team free throws. 

It was smart and reasonable of you to think that way. Sunghoon wasn’t known for landing 5-pointers. Heck, he never even attempted them. He usually went for layups and 3-pointers. 

Focusing on the game, he took a deep breath. Seojoon passed the ball at him as soon as you yelled Go!

Sunghoon dribbled to your side of the court immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you hesitate, but your mouth parted in realisation the second you caught onto what he was doing. 

“Stay on her!” he yelled at Iseul and Hajoon. “Don’t let her go.”

Sunghoon dodged the rest of your teammates. Seojoon wasn’t doing a good job at keeping them away, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. He could do this by himself as long as you were out of the picture. 

Sunghoon eyed the basket and bent at his knees, gathering enough momentum to jump. He’d been hitting the gym more often, and he hoped to God his hard work wouldn’t fail him at such a crucial time. 

Exhaling once, Sunghoon jumped and let the ball fly across the court. The moment the ball was out of his hands, you crashed into him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him. 

“Ow,” he muttered, his arm wrapping itself around your waist on instinct. “That’s foul play.” 

Before you could bite back, Sunghoon heard someone scream, “No way! Sunghoon did it!” 

Sunghoon grinned and craned his neck to look at his teammates. A laugh tumbled past his lips when he saw them doing the floss dance and playfully teasing the losing team.

The sound of your groan made him avert his attention to you. You’d raised your head to find out whether Sunghoon had made the basket, and upon realising that you’d lost the match, you let it fall on his chest again. “Man,” you grumbled in defeat.

“Aw,” Sunghoon teased. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Who asked?”

Snorting, Sunghoon loosened his grip around your waist. Rolling off him, you laid down on your back in the middle of the court next to him. “Am I supposed to buy you ice cream now?” 

He checked his watch before answering, “Nah. Let’s go home and freshen up. It’s almost time for my date.”

“The beach,” you marvelled. Both of you were standing on a cliff overlooking the expanse of sand and water. “I should have guessed.” 

Sunghoon agreed. It shouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint the venue of the date once he’d requested you to wear shorts and sandals. However, your obliviousness had worked in his favour. 

The entire thing was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to sweep you off your feet.

He averted his attention from the ocean to find that you were already staring at him. A soft smile was adorning your face, and with the breeze ruffling your unbound hair, you looked nothing short of a fairy tale. 

“Do you remember the last time we came here?” you inquired, and returned your gaze to the view again. Sunghoon didn’t bother to take his eyes off you—he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The reflection of the sunset in your irises was too intoxicating. “Jay, Jake, Yizhuo and Isa were with us. We spent the entire night talking around a bonfire. I couldn’t keep myself awake once the clock struck two. You tucked me close and let me rest my head on the space between your shoulder and neck. You kissed my forehead and promised me you’d wake me up in a few hours.” 

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He only kept staring at the image of the sunset in your eyes—the way the ocean consumed the ball of fire the same way his love for you consumed his very being. 

Love shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn’t be this painful.  

“I remember the way you smelt,” you continued. “Like vanilla and sandalwood. I remember wanting to pull you closer because you also smelt like home. I hated moving to a new city for college. I missed our hometown. I missed life being simpler. I missed the old times. But those brief moments before I fell asleep reminded me that not everything had changed. The clumsy boy I’d met in kindergarten was still with me. Sure, he was a bigger pain in my ass than he had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t left my side even once. And I knew he wouldn’t for a long time.”

“You’ve been the only constant in my life, Sunghoon,” you mumbled and turned your body towards his. Snaking your arms around his waist, you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I love you.”

And though Sunghoon knew you didn’t mean it the way he wished you did, he returned your embrace and confessed, “I love you too.” 

“What the fuck?” you whispered and let go of Sunghoon’s hand to jog ahead. “WHAT THE FUCK? IS THAT A CANDLELIGHT DINNER?” 

Laughing in amusement, he pocketed his hands and watched you freak out. The beach was usually crowded at this hour, but he’d asked Jake—the surfer of their group—if there was anywhere he could spend the evening undisturbed. 

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he joked as he approached you. “I know it’s kind of corny, but this was the most romantic date setting I could think of.”

“Corny?” you exclaimed incredulously. “This is amazing!” Nudging him with your elbow, you teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“You would have known a lot more if you’d asked me out before,” Sunghoon smirked, a suggestive undertone to his comment. “But I suppose we can make do with what we have now.”

You snorted. “You’re insufferable.” Then added, “I don’t want to shoot us having dinner here. Maybe I’ll just film the date set-up and our outfits, but I think I want this evening to remain between us only.”

“Oh.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, that works for me. Do you want me to get your camera?” 

The next five minutes were spent recording the date he had organised. The food was prepared by Jay, whose chef father had taught him a thing or two before the boy moved to the city for college. Sunghoon had dragged Yizhuo and Isa with him to shop for decor. 

They’d bought a soft blanket which was now spread on the sand. He’d also purchased six couch pillows to make the setting cosier. Fairy lights covered the perimeter of the throw. 

The coffee table Sunghoon had stolen from himself and brought to the beach was filled with all kinds of your favourite food, a scented candle burning in the centre of it. 

Since he’d known he couldn’t escape you to set up everything that he’d planned, he’d begged his friends to do it for him. Obviously, they’d teased him about it on their group chat, but he’d ignored them the way he always did. 

“I have another surprise,” Sunghoon popped as the two of you settled down on opposite sides of the table. “I don’t know if you’re going to be up for it though.”

“Is it the wine?” you asked, eyeing the corked bottle partially hidden under one of the pillows. “Because I saw it long back, and I am all for getting drunk.” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “Nah, it’s not the wine, but yeah, we’re getting drunk. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. But,” he continued, “I’d been going through Pinterest to search for date ideas when I called you in the middle of your movie a few nights ago. After our talk, I remembered you’d made this board with Karina when you were a thirteen-year-old.”

You gasped and reached over the table to smack his arm. “You stalked my Pinterest?! That is so uncool! There’s tons of embarrassing shit on there! I should have privated those boards when I had the chance,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Then I wouldn’t have rented a projector for us to watch a movie after we finish dinner.” Sunghoon grinned cheekily. “We are not watching some sappy romcom though,” he warned. “Soap2Day came in clutch so we can watch Suzume or Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Your choice.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. For a few moments, you didn’t say anything. With a raised eyebrow, Sunghoon watched you struggle to form the words. “Okay, I know it was creepy to stalk you on Pinterest—” 

“NO!” you blurted, your eyes widening. “It’s not creepy! I just—No one has ever done anything of this sort for me. I don’t know what to say except… thank you.”

Before he could reply, you buried your face in your hands, and muttered, “Gosh, I sound so ungrateful, but I really do appreciate it. More than I can express.” Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes. “I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”

Sunghoon stopped breathing. His smile dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. The entire world could have crumbled, and he would have remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. 

“W—what?” he croaked. 

You broke off the eye contact and dropped your gaze to the ground. “Sorry. That was stupid of me—”

“Yes,” Sunghoon breathed. “Yes, it would be fine with me.” 

You exhaled, appearing visibly relieved, and that somehow made him feel better about the sharp turn the evening had taken. Of course, he was thrilled you wanted to kiss him, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you’d regretted voicing your thoughts. 

Licking your lips, you unfolded your legs and scooted away from the table. Instead of standing up, you got on your knees and made your way towards him.

Sunghoon also moved away from the table to make space for you, and once you reached him, you swung your legs on either side of him. Straddling his lap, you towered over him. 

Snaking your arms around his shoulder, you glanced at his mouth. 

Even though it was driving Sunghoon out of his mind to not close the distance between your lips, he let you take your time. You traced your thumb across his lower lip and then shifted your hand to the back of his neck. 

Weaving your fingers through his hair, you let your eyes flutter shut and lowered your mouth over his. 

Sunghoon’s entire universe exploded into shards of molten light. A tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, setting his nerves on fire and making fireworks explode inside his chest.

The boy couldn’t have kissed you back any faster. Tilting his head to the side, he pulled you closer by the nape. 

Settling in his lap, you tugged at his hair, the nails of your other hand digging into his shoulder. 

A groan slipped past Sunghoon’s lips. God, he’d coveted the taste of you for so long, and now that he was finally kissing you, he realised he’d never estimated the magnitude of his love for you accurately before. 

Because this… this was everything. Sunghoon felt on top of the world, and pure euphoria was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t get enough of you. A single kiss would never be enough to satiate him. The floodgates were thrown open, and the thought of this being a one-time, impulsive thing made his gut twist painfully. 

He knew he needed to tell you. Right here, right now, he needed to tell you the truth. 

“Y/N.” Sunghoon gasped, breaking the kiss. He was leaning back now, his weight resting on his left elbow. The desperation and urgency with which you’d come onto him had been more than he could handle. “I need to tell you something.” 

Your eyes remained glued to his lips and there was a tinge of disappointment on your face. As if you didn’t want to stop. As if you wanted to keep going. 

With a jolt, it dawned on him that you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you.  

The epiphany alone was enough for Sunghoon to consider ditching his plan of confessing his feelings and instead close the distance between your mouths again. But, he steeled his nerves and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He didn’t bother asking you to get up from his lap nor did he bother removing his left hand from your waist. If this confession went sideways, he’d end up losing you anyway. 

“What is it?” you whispered, your disappointed expression giving way to concern and nervousness. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” Sunghoon ground out. “Please stop. Let me speak.” 

You pursed your lips, but he could tell you were scared shitless. There was fear in your eyes, and he hated making you feel as though you’d done something wrong when you’d given him the one thing he’d wanted more than anything else.

“I…” Sunghoon started, forcing himself to find the courage to say the words. “Y/N, I love you.” 

There it was. He’d done it. The cat was out of the bag, and all he could do now was wait with bated breath. 

Your mouth parted open, but no sound came out of it. Your face was unreadable. It was void of any emotion. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours and let out a humourless laugh. “Right. That’s okay—”

But then he felt your hands grabbing his jaw, making him pin his attention on you again. 

There was pure, unadulterated joy on your countenance, a wide smile adorning your lips. “I love you too,” you breathed. “Oh, my God, Sunghoon, I love you too.” 

Sunghoon blinked. “What?” he mumbled, his mouth set in a pout due to your squishing his cheeks. 

You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his puckered lips. “I love you too,” you repeated. 

Gripping your hands, Sunghoon removed them from his face and stared up at you in bewilderment. “You’re serious?” 

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?”

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?” he shot back. “I’ve loved you since high school.”

You snorted. “So have I.” 

“Sophomore year.”

“Same.”

“I knew right after the homecoming ball.”

“Sucker!” you exclaimed. “I knew right after the game!” 

Sunghoon frowned. “It’s not a competition, Y/N,” he said, and then added, “But if it were, I would win. The amount of effort I’ve put into hiding my feelings is insane.”

“Sure,” you drawled. “That’s why all my followers keep saying it’s clear you’re in love with me.”

The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment. “You saw the comments?” 

“Of course I did,” you answered, your voice soft. “I just never believed them. The notion never seemed possible. Isn’t it crazy how it was real this entire time?” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “We’re idiots.”

“We are,” you said, smiling at him in affection. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have ever said anything about what I truly felt if you hadn’t found the courage to confess to me.” 

“I know, I know,” you defended and rolled your eyes when he gave you a pointed look. “I did ask if I could kiss you. Trust me, I was more surprised than you were. Heck, I was fully prepared to play it off by spouting some bullshit in case you said no. What you did for me, Sunghoon… I couldn’t keep the urge inside me anymore. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that there would be no turning back—I knew I had to take the risk. And I’m glad that I did.”

Sunghoon’s heart swelled with joy. “Me too.”

“Wait,” you said quickly. “How’d you know you were in love with me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he answered, “While we were dancing at homecoming. You didn’t have a single move in you, but you didn’t wanna be the only one not dancing, so you started doing what you’d learnt in Zumba. It was hilarious—watching you be clueless but still killing it on the dance floor. It made me proud of you, but more than that, it made me realise what I felt for you.” 

“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s really sweet of you, but I definitely knew what I was doing.”

“Let’s not ruin the moment by lying to each other.”

“You’re such a dork!” 

“It’s your turn now!” Sunghoon grinned. “Tell me!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me,” you warned. “My story is embarrassing.” 

Locking his pinkie with yours, he promised, “I won’t.”

“Remember how you sat with Yeojin at the game?” you asked, to which Sunghoon nodded. “Well, I’d been saving seats for us. I fought a lot of people to keep the seat next to me vacant, but you didn’t even acknowledge me when I called your name. Yeojin caught hold of you, and you went to sit with her without bothering to check if I was around.” Shrugging, you mumbled, “That made me mad and jealous and upset. Not just at her, but at both of you. I’d never been possessive over my friends, and I’d never felt such ugly emotions before. There was only one reasonable explanation.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows flew up. “Woah. I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It was loud at the game and I don’t think you heard me.” You laughed and waved him away. “I was being petty. And I know it’s not cute like your story, but that was what made me realise there was a chance I loved you.”

“Cute or not, that was the best story I’ve ever heard,” he said cheekily. “Also, don’t get me wrong—I would love nothing more than have you sit in my lap, but I think we should finish dinner first. Let’s finish what you started once we’re done eating.”

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled away from him. “Right.”

“Wait!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrist before you could get up and go back to the other side of the table. “The asters—what do they signify?” 

You smiled and leaned closer to his face, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Love.” 

[miirohs]

kiss me more [c.s]

pairing: Choi San x GN!Reader wc: 0.7k cw: n/a an: i blame nyx (@yangkitties) and choi san for these fuckass ideas haunting my brain… live laugh love ateez yall

“Baby.”

You hummed in response, despite your eyes never straying from your mirror.

Once again you applied the red lipstick, frowning at how it looked on you. It didn’t look quite right. 

“Baby?” 

“Did you call me-“ You started, pausing for a moment as Sans’ arms curled around your waist, his face settling in the crook of your neck. “San?”

“What’s taking so long? Are you okay?” He questioned, leaning on your back as he gave your bag a curious look, looking at the products littered across your bed.

“I’m fine, Sannie.” You sighed, slightly agitated as you slammed the lid of the lipstick on the bottle.

“No, you’re not,” He murmured, grabbing it from you and turning you around to him. His dark eyes peered into yours, holding all sorts of affection towards you even as you actively shoved him away. You could’ve sworn staring at him forever would’ve solved all your problems.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?” He looked at you, a slight pout forming as his lips.  “Nothing is going right for me today,” You sighed, picking up the tube and holding it up to his face, “this little shit isn’t working like it should and i really liked it.” 

“Is that so?” He chuckled, taking it from your hand and gently shaking it. “Bad lipstick!”

You gave him a small smile as he handed it back to you, a grin on his face as if he was wholly satisfied with having abused the small object in his hand. “Are you feeling better now?” He asked, leaning into your space once again.

“A little,” You admitted, rolling the tube in your hand, “I can’t quite tell what's going wrong though.”

“Look at me real quick baby?” His hands grabbed your face, bringing you closer to him. You could almost feel his lips on yours, closing your eyes as he ran a thumb over your cheekbone comfortingly.

“I have an idea that could help you fix it.” You gave him a curious look. “Kiss me as many times as it takes and I'll help you reapply if it doesn’t look good in the end?” He offered, head tilted as you opened your eyes in shock, gaping at him.

“San? I’d basically be-” He hushed you, bringing your hand up to his own face, warmth spreading through your fingers. “I said it’s okay, why are you hesitating?”

You nodded weakly, getting up. 

Standing between his legs, you leaned into him as he pushed up on his hands, unflinching as you got closer. He tilted his head as you got close, heart squeezing as he looked you square in the eyes.

“I think you look even more beautiful up close,” He cooed, scrunching his nose up as you pressed down on the bridge, leaving a bold red imprint behind. “I think that’s enough, don’t you?” You blushed, looking away as he gave you a mischievous smile. “No, I still think there’s some left… why don't you kiss me a little more baby?”

Cringing, you peppered his face in kisses as he sat there patiently, leaning into your touch with a proud look on his face.

“You… you look ridiculous,” You said, stifling laughter at his puzzled expression once you finally got a good look.

“You were supposed to tell me I look amazing,” A pout settled onto his lips again as he tilted his head at you, lipstick marking up almost every corner of his face. You could see how it lit up his face, happiness in his eyes as he watched you move around him.

“You know, it doesn’t look half bad,” You said, rubbing some of the smudged product away.

He didn’t respond, too busy memorizing the look on your face, taking in everything.

“Hold on,” He said, forcing you to pause as he pulled you into his lap, “You have a little something… right here.”

He ran his thumb over the corner of your lips, leaving a soft kiss where his fingertips had traced, following a path down to the column of your throat.

“Hey Sannie,” You hummed, looking up at him, “Can I have another one?” 

“Another what?” He answered in response, acting oblivious.

“You know what it is!” You groaned as he wiggled his eyebrows at you, completely unserious. You’d have to drag it out of him.

“Fine, but it might ruin your-“

“Oh just shut up and kiss me already.”

[bg-brainrot]

The Night They Slept Together

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: Tav pines, and their relationship with Astarion shifts ever so slightly. (They literally do just sleep)

Tags: 2nd person POV, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Pining, light hurt and angst, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, coping with feelings, act 2, pre-confession

A/N: some light angst as Tav comes to term with their feelings but we already know where they end up, so it's okay, right? :D

Word count: ~2.1k

--

Your tryst with Astarion should be over by now.

It was supposed to be a one off moment of passion, a way to destress after all of the danger you’d thrown yourselves into. He’d asked so easily, you’d agreed just as readily– a quick celebratory moment after defeating that goblin camp, when your spirits and libido were running high.

The second time? Well, that was easy to write off as well. You’d just fought off an entire creche, moving through it like a pair of practiced assassins, a synchrony you haven’t felt since– well, you’re not certainly you’ve ever felt so in sync with someone. Either way, it was another easy nod to his sly, questioning look. 

You’d had similar excuses for your first night in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, for the handful of midday, afternoon, midnight romps since.

It’s just a way for us to cope with the situation at hand, nothing more, nothing less, you’d told yourself.

That is, until you’d realized that it wasn’t just that. Not to you. 

Oh gods, I love this insane vampire.

The night you’d realized that everything had changed.

What had begun as a distraction for you both, had turned into a poison– one slowly working its way through your system, incapacitating you piece by piece at the thought of another night falling into his arms, sinking deeper into the throes of an impossible love. 

After all, what is this other than convenient? And if you continued to be a mere convenience to him, well, you doubt that this would end well for you. It’s high time that you cut off the source of this poison before it festers too far. Before it grips your vulnerable, aching heart.

That’s what you’d told yourself, but you’re finding it so much harder to cut off the source when he’s standing right in front of you, waiting for you with a smirk toying along the edge of his mouth, an eyebrow raising suggestively as his voice lowers to a sultry invitation. 

You’d come by his tent to say goodnight. Maybe, ‘Good job today.’ Any excuse to see him really, but now you’re met with a challenge.

Astarion’s words don’t make it much easier either.

“Oh my dear, you look positively wound-up after today’s bouts. Care for a little… unwinding?”

His voice drips with promise, with want, with a feeling that echoes through your own traitorous core. But, like a sweet that’s overstayed its welcome, it seems too tacky, hardening into something utterly indigestible.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” you ask, eying him carefully, fighting down your own building desires.

“Why shouldn’t it be?” he asks, a raised brow lowering in uncertainty. 

You hesitate, unsure how much truth you’re willing to part with. Certainly not, ‘Because I may have accidentally fallen in love with you.’ And you don’t want to shove him out of your life unceremoniously either. Just… to slow down, allow your heart time to adjust– to get over him, if need be.

After a pause that goes on for a second too long, you finally settle on, “It just seems as if we’ve already had plenty of ‘fun’, don’t you think?”

Astarion’s small smirk drops, a dark look entering his eyes as he registers your words, how they directly counter his own from your first night together. How they fall between you with the full weight of rejection. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown shy now, darling?” he says, voice a bit sharper than what you’re used to.

You’d known that trying to slow down wouldn’t be easy, but his downturned lips make you want to take back your words, dive back into the intoxicating miasma of his cold embrace. But you also know that if you don’t stand your ground now, you’re liable to fall too far too fast.

“Not shy per say,” you respond, measuring your words carefully. “Merely wondering if that’s what you want.”

Astarion seems no more placated by these words than your earlier ones. “And what makes you think I wouldn’t want this?”

Fear born of your heart, insecurity born of your nerves, damned logic born of your head– there are really so many reasons he wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want you. But you don’t want to be too transparent, not when this adventure could all be over very soon. You say as much.

“Well, our days could be numbered.” Then your lips continue. “Perhaps there is someone else you would rather be unwinding?” The question slips out of you, an unbidden, unwelcome concern courtesy of the fear building in your chest.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, response quick, tone biting. His lips are pressed in a tight line, the muscles in his neck tense as he clenches his jaw.

Gods, you’d known your heart would lead you astray. Here you are, facing an Astarion unlike any that had made a home in your bedroll. An Astarion made of sharp edges and cutting words. Expression closed, mouth a tight line, you find his change in demeanor aggravating. You bristle at his accusation. “No, Astarion. I don’t want that. If I did, I wouldn’t be here, speaking with you. Though you’re making me regret doing that much now.”

He tilts back at your words, leaning back on the heels of his feet as if thrown off balance. “Then why did you even come over? To reject me then to–to taunt me?”

You had meant to do none of that. Really, you’d only come over out of habit, to see him, to… spend time with him. But it’s hard to say so without being entirely too forthcoming with your feelings. You wish that you could put your feelings into words, however it’s your burden to bear, not his. He has more than enough on his plate between the Absolute and Raphael’s deal. 

So you shake your head at him. “I didn’t mean to reject you, Astarion. I hadn’t come here for sex at all.”

Once more, he asks the question you do not want to answer. “Then why did you even come over?”

You could lie. It’s as easy as breathing for you– it’s how you and Astarion had grown so close so quickly. You should lie, you tell yourself. But one look into his crimson, pleading eyes and the lie dies on your lips.

He looks hurt. So genuinely confused at your presence in front of him, deeply convinced that you could only be here for one thing and one thing only. And you know then that you can’t lie.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, the honest words tightening your throat on their way out, You haven’t told him how you feel, but you may as well have, with the way the words sound utterly, sinfully soft, a secret lost on the cold wind of the Shadow-Cursed night.

“You… wanted to see me?” he repeats, tone losing all of its edge, losing any of its structure at all.

You nod silently, uncertain if more words would help or hurt the situation.

To that, Astarion only blinks. His mouth opens, head tilting in that cautiously inquisitorial way, as he asks, “And then what?”

There was no ‘and then’ in your mind. Merely the need to see him, spend time with him, even after spending an entire dark, dreary day with him. But you suppose he wouldn’t understand that if you said it. So you need to come up with something concrete, a reason to be here beyond words…

“I was wondering if you wanted to share a bedroll tonight. To sleep,” you say, infusing enough confidence in your words that you can hardly note the nerves. You expect Astarion wouldn’t notice them at all. 

His defenses noticeably drop, his shoulders sagging in relief, and a sigh escapes him as he shakes his head at you wryly. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, darling? I understand that not everyone has my stamina, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

You want to roll your eyes, defend your honor as it hangs on by a thread, but you’ve narrowly avoided disaster and you’re not proud enough to ruin that. Instead you play into the role, ignoring the dull twinge that twists through your heart. “I wasn’t sure you would be so magnanimous,” you say, giving him the slightest bow of your head. “I should have known.”

“That you should have,” he says with a breathy laugh and he sounds almost… relieved?

More than anything, you want to ask him, why? Are you relieved that my feelings have stayed silent? That this thing between us remains uncomplicated? That you don’t have to find yourself a new distraction?

But your questions stay just as buried as your feelings do.

Your damnable feelings, which seem to threaten to burst out each time his eyes linger too long, with every touch you weren’t expecting. It must be a talent, holding them in as you do now.

They stay hidden as he extends a hand to you, inviting you into his tent with a warm smile and a, “Shall we?”

You keep them dormant as you follow, tucking your head into the now-familiar red structure, narrowly avoiding the mess he’s left inside. 

They almost slip to the surface as he pulls you down onto his lap, and a heat rises between you as natural as steam from a hot spring.

It’s an invitation, of course. One last effort from Astarion for something more tonight, for you to be won over by his beauty and charm. But there’s nothing to be won over because you are already his.

You wish he could tell, from your drunken declarations, from the way you’ve made a second home in his arms. Maybe he can tell, but refuses to acknowledge it– you could hardly blame him if that were to be the case. But you also can’t blame yourself for barely holding back.

Even now, seated in his lap, staring into his mesmerizing red eyes, you’re not certain you could trust a single word that comes out of your lips. So you throw every word you’ve ever known, could ever know, to the wayside. And simply kiss him.

You press your lips to his slowly, contact feather-light as you balance on his thighs. Bracing yourself with a hand on his chest, you lean in, locking your lips together fully. 

They move together easily, dance partners on a familiar dance floor, to a practiced tune, but when you think of all of the things you wish you could say, an urgency rises in you– a deep-seated need to tell him how you feel, even if only through this.

So you kiss him harder, your hands holding him all the tighter. You kiss him with every word unspoken, every intangible feeling rising in your chest, every single ounce of you that he’s already won, if only he were willing to claim it.

Astarion moves to deepen the kiss, placing a hand on the back of your head, the other on the small of your back, not understanding where your desperation comes from. Misunderstanding your intent altogether. 

Of course, what was I thinking? you wonder to yourself as you pull away, panting lightly. That some magical kiss could make this man realize my feelings, could make him love me back?

But you’re not in some copper novel. This man harbors no hidden feelings for you. Only a deep need to lose himself, and you happen to be the person he’s chosen to do that with.

So, despite the confusion in his face, you crawl off of his lap. Despite the way his hand trails along your side as you lay down, you don’t get back up. You merely say, “It’s getting late, we should get some rest.”

Astarion murmurs his agreement, but you can hear the reluctance in his tone, see the bewildered expression on his face as he lies down, all of his clothing still covering his body. 

You could laugh at the absurdity of it all, how unnerved he is, how deeply your chest aches– gods, this didn’t go well at all. But you don’t laugh. Only a sigh escapes you as you wrap your arms around him, as you press your body to his with all of the affection you cannot contain.

His arms stumble, they falter, but they find their way around you as well. An awkward embrace from a man who has no clue how he’s arrived at this point.

It’s difficult at a moment like this to remember that you shouldn’t love this man. That there are a dozen reasons to tamp down your feelings, a dozen more to run away. This was never supposed to be more than a single night of fun.

But, face tucked into the crook of his neck, hands clutching his loose shirt, nose filled with his carefully curated scent– you can almost pretend that this is real.

[st-eve-barnes]

Pretty little liars (chapter 1)

(Felix Catton x fem Reader)

Summary: Felix Catton was the embodiment of everything you hated, yet you loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another. But as with all good things, you didn't know what you had until it was stolen from you.

This Chapter: Your first experiences with Saltburn and the infamous Felix Catton

Word count: +3500

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Enemies to lovers vibes. Oral (fem & male receiving), p in v sex, fingering, ... Jealousy, voyeurism, secrets, toxic relationships, mentions of death. Oliver being his creepy little self.

ANGST/smut/fluff (do I ever write anything else? lol)

***

Saltburn has altered my brain chemistry and Felix won't leave my mind so I had to give him his own mini series. Tag list is open for those who want on it ;)

***

All these and older fics are also on AO3 If you want to support my writing you can Buy me a KoFi or feed me with a lovely comment ;)

***

You weren’t just in love with Felix Catton. It would be an insult to the depth of your feelings for him to call it that. You loved him like you never imagined one human being could love another.

Felix Catton was sunlight personified. He lit up a room like no one else could, drew people to his light without even trying.

You couldn’t see it at first, blinded by the riches and the money. But it wasn’t about that.

Felix was more. More than you bargained for, and far more than you deserved.

But as with all good things, you didn’t know what you had until it was taken from you.

He was staring at you but looking right through you, no life left in his teary eyes where he lay on the ground in the middle of the maze, golden wings spread out beneath him. He looked so pale, almost inhuman. Like an angel, fallen to the earth. 

It was dark and quiet in the maze, the statue looming over you like a bad omen.The music and happy chatter in the distance might as well have come from another planet. Behind these walls there was no music playing, no laughter, only grief.

Your hands were shaking, grabbing at his chest almost violently, your sadness turning into anger. Don’t you fucking leave me here alone in this place. You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone out here.

Elspeth’s desperate sobs kept filling your ears: “He’s not breathing, my baby’s not breathing, oh god he’s not breathing.”

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, swallow every single person here and the whole of Saltburn with it. 

What good was it without him? What good was any of it?

What good were you?

***

1 year earlier

The first time you set foot in Saltburn you had no idea where to look first. Everything was so beautiful, shiny, luxurious, authentic. Excessive.

You had heard all the stories about the infamous Catton family and their household but to walk through it, observe it all with your own two eyes, was a much different experience.

It felt like a lucid dream and in the midst of it all stood him.

Felix Catton. 

Beloved son and brother, life of the party, everybody’s best friend, infamous fuck boy.

He had a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, chatting away to whoever gave him attention, male or female, it didn’t matter, they all hung on his every word.

You couldn’t stand him. Not even specifically him but people like him. Pretty rich kids. Life was so easy for him it just wasn’t fucking fair to the rest of you.

“Here,” your friend shoved a drink into your hand and gave you an encouraging smile,”It’s a party, Y/N, can you at least try to look like I’m not holding you at gun point here?”

“Sorry,” you sighed, taking a sip from your drink as you followed your friend through the endless garden of the estate.

It was hot, it had been like this for a couple of weeks now even though officially the summer was yet to start. The only relief was a soft evening breeze and the ice cold drink numbing your throat. You weren’t even supposed to be here, your friend had snuck you in, encouraging you to experience a true Saltburn party for yourself. You’d been curious as hell, so of course you’d said yes.

A decision you were already regretting.

You hated these people, it was all so shallow, and meaningless, and a million miles away from your world. But you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the -unofficial- invite so you danced with your friend and drank, smiled and pretended to fit in. At least the alcohol made it easy for you to fake your way through the night.

You were losing yourself in the music when your friend leaned closer to you on the dance floor with a grin and a whisper into your ear,“He’s been staring at you for the last 10 minutes.”

“Who?”

“Felix. He’s so fucking hot, girl, you should go to him and go for it.”

You laughed while you continued dancing,”I think not! I may be drunk but I’m not that drunk, Bella.”

“Come on,” she tried to encourage you.

“No thanks, why would I even be interested in him? He’s just a rich asshole,” you pointed out, taking another sip from your drink while your eyes drifted off to Felix. He was standing with a group of people by the side of the dance floor and the maze and his eyes were already on you. You looked away again quickly, shaking your head with another chuckle while you finished your drink.

“See?!” your friend poked into your side with a grin,”You sure you’re not interested?”

“I’m not interested in spoiled little rich kids.”

“Girl, there is nothing about that man that is little,” your friend joked and then almost choked on her own laughter. You couldn’t help but join in.

“Shut up,” you pushed her back playfully.

“No but for real, Felix is a good egg, the best out of all of them,” she pointed out and you rolled your eyes in judgment.

“That isn't saying much, is it? They're all rich assholes.”

“Felix is nice though,” she insisted,”He’s always kind, and so welcoming, and always in a good mood.”

You snorted,”Please, if my family was this rich I’d always be in a good mood as well, fuck. That guy hasn’t had to struggle a day in his life.”

“That’s pretty presumptuous of you,” she pointed out.

“It’s written all over him, come on, he’s a walking cliche, Bella.”

You friend shrugged her shoulders,”Alright, whatever. It’s your loss, I hear he really knows how to please a girl.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again,“That guy? I highly doubt it. Everyone wants to fuck him anyway, he doesn’t even have to try and be good at it. Girls will lay at his feet either way. And guys.”

“I’m just saying, you could take the test and find out for yourself, what have you got to lose?” she teased.

“I think I’ll manage fine without having Felix Catton in my life, thanks. I’m gonna go get another refill.”

You left your friend on the dance floor but you quickly came to regret that decision.

You’d been fine on your feet while dancing but now as you were trying to move through the crowd you suddenly felt dizzy, as if someone had put something in your drink, or you were just a whole lot more drunk than you had initially thought. The ground seemed to be moving under your feet as you fought to keep your balance. Something you were failing horribly at and just as you were about to lose the fight entirely and fall down onto the grass two strong hands came to rest on your shoulders, holding you up.

“Whoa, hey, you alright there, love?”

You looked up to meet his eyes. God, he really was freakishly tall, you had never felt smaller in your life.

“Felix,” you breathed.

“Hi, there,” he smiled at you and opened his mouth to say something else but it never reached your ears as you were too busy vomiting out your guts all over his shirt and shoes.

***

“Here,” Felix handed you a glass of water with two pills in it. 

You were sitting on the edge of the counter in one of the guest bathrooms downstairs. It was a blur how you got here, you vaguely remembered Felix carrying you into the house and holding your hair back while you threw up into the fancy toilet.

You looked up at him, your vision still blurry. You noticed he had changed shirts and was barefoot now.

You hesitantly took the glass from his hands but didn’t drink it yet.

“It’s for your stomach, I’m not trying to drug you, promise.”

His voice was kinder than you'd imagined and you carefully took a sip and then another one until you could feel the liquor settle in your stomach. It wasn’t making you feel worse so you drank some more. 

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“I haven’t seen you at one of these parties before,” Felix stated.

“No, I…I’m new.”

He smiled. Felix Catton smiled at you and it was like looking directly into the sun.

You took another sip from the drink he handed you, avoiding his gaze, giving yourself a moment of respite. He really was breathtaking up close, even you had to admit that.

”I’m really sorry about your shirt,” you then sighed.

“That’s quite alright. You’re not the first girl to throw up on me.”

You laughed.”Okay, good to know I’m not special.”

Your words made him chuckle.”So do you have a name, new girl?”

“It’s Y/N,” you answered hesitantly.

Felix repeated your name attentively. Why did it sound so much better coming from his lips than from your own?

“You can crash here tonight if you want,” he suggested,”Plenty of guest rooms to choose from. Or one of our drivers can take you home.”

“One of your drivers?” you shook your head with a smile, his words bringing you back down to reality really fast,”Jesus, fuck, you and I come from such different worlds, it would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.”

“I can ditch you outside of the gates and make you walk home,” he teased,”But that would be cruel, wouldn’t it?”

You shook your head with a sneer and then sighed.

“Look, it’s whatever you prefer,” he added casually.

You finished the last of the drink and got up,”I think I’d just prefer to go home, by myself. Thanks for this, but I’m okay now.”

“Okay then,” Felix nodded, a small intrigued smile forming on his lips as he watched you leave the room.

“See you at the next one, new girl,” he yelled after you.

***

The second time you talked to Felix was two weeks later. You had been going with Bella to the Saltburn estate a couple more times since then. She had developed a little crush on Oliver, one of Felix’s new friends who seemed to hang around the house all the time. She had felt a little anxious going there on her own, so she begged you to accompany her and you did what any good friend would do.

It had nothing to do with Felix or Saltburn. Not back then anyway.

You had spent the entire afternoon lounging around the pool with a big group of people. Bella had taken the opportunity to get closer to Oliver who seemed charmed by her interest in him and happily engaged in conversation. You mostly stuck to yourself and soaked up the sun while you read your book. Felix hadn’t approached you once but that didn’t stop him from stealing glances at you every time he thought you weren’t looking.

When the sun was starting to go down you said your goodbye to Bella and Oliver and decided to head back home. You had called a cab to come pick you up by the gate, where Felix found you having a discussion with the taxi driver.

“I have the money I just don’t have it on me right now,” you pleaded but the asshole wasn’t budging.

“Money now or I’m not taking you anywhere, sweetheart,” he insisted.

“I can give you half now and the rest when I get home, come on, it’s not a problem. Do I look like I don’t have money?”

“You rich kids always think the rules don’t apply to you, don’t you? Pay up front, or you’re walking.”

You sighed annoyed, ready to plead your case some more when suddenly you heard someone calling out your name.

It was Felix.

You weren’t sure what surprised you the most, the big beaming smile with which he walked up to you as if you were close friends, or the fact that he remembered your name. You hadn’t spoken to him since your embarrassing display at that party weeks ago. He’d seemed happy to ignore you after that and you had done the same, feeling no interest in getting to know him further.

“You forgot this, love,” he smiled at you and wrapped a jacket over your shoulders, the sleeves were about four sizes too big for you and the whole thing almost came down to your knees. 

You were completely lost for words.

He leaned in a little closer to whisper in your ear,”I think you left your money in there as well.”

He tapped on the pocket with his finger and you could see a few 10 pound notes sticking out.

“Felix,” you sighed,”You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” he feigned innocence,”This is yours, now pay the good man before he ditches you and makes you walk home.”

“I…okay, fine,” you sighed, giving in and taking out the money needed to pay for your ride home.

“Perfect,” the taxi driver grinned,”Pleasure doing business with you.”

Felix stood with his hands in his pockets and a satisfied grin on his face while the man opened the door and waited for you to get in.

You sighed again and looked back into his big brown eyes.

“I’ll pay you back,” you whispered before getting into the car.

“That’s not necessary, new girl,” he called after you and gave you a big wave as the car drove away with you in it.

You hated that it made you smile.

****

You hated to admit that you were starting to enjoy the weekly parties at Saltburn, it had become your guilty pleasure weekend activity.

Bella and Oliver had grown closer together and you couldn’t deny you enjoyed his company as well, he seemed different from all the other rich kids and you had a strong feeling that he was just pretending to fit in, much like yourself. Neither of you spoke of it but when you looked into his eyes you knew, and you knew he knew as well. Neither of you belonged here.

Felix was mixing drinks behind the bar when you put the money you owed him on the counter.”Here.”

He gave you a smile and shook his head,”I told you that wasn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” you insisted.

“Really it was nothing, it was barely 4O pounds.”

“And I’m sure in your world that’s considered nothing but in mine it’s….,” you swallowed the rest of your angry words before you would say things you’d end up regretting later.”Just take the damn money.”

He lifted his hands up in defense and laughed,”Alright, fine, I’ll take the money, thank you for paying me back, what the fuck?”

You sighed annoyed and walked away from him, leaving him shaking his head in confusion.

You went back to ignoring him for the rest of the night, or at least trying to. You couldn’t help but find yourself looking at him from time to time. He was always chatting to someone, always laughing and drinking and looking like he was having the time of his life. You wondered if at least part of that was an act, if it ever exhausted him to play the ever friendly host and life of every party. Nobody was happy all the time, weren’t they? Not even Felix Catton.

You looked away when he stared back at you, ignoring the emotions that started bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. You felt strangely drawn to him, and you hated yourself for allowing that feeling.

Bella was the one to pull you out of your thoughts and onto the dance floor and you went willingly, losing yourself in the music and the rhythm. When a few guys came to join you both you didn’t think much of it and you happily let them dance close to you. It wasn’t after some time that you noticed Bella wasn’t there anymore and there was one guy in particular who seemed to have some issues with personal space. His hands were traveling further up your hips and under your shirt while he started grinding up against you.

Your hands on his chest tried to push him back a little bit as you tried to dance away from him but his hold on your hips was too strong.

“Hey, come on, stop that,” you politely tried to create some distance between you both but the guy ignored all your attempts. When his hand tried to slip under the hem of your skirt to feel up your ass you were ready to throw punches at this jerk. Just before you could make your move someone grabbed your hand and slowly but firmly pulled you away from the guy. 

Felix.

Before you realized what was happening your back was pressed up against his large chest, his hands on your waist as he danced behind you, his face buried into your hair while he made eye contact with the guy in front of you.

“Sorry, mate, she’s one of mine, off limits,” he stated, as if that explained everything.

And apparently it did because the guy just smiled apologetically at Felix and stepped back immediately.

“Hey,” Felix winked at the guy,”India over there is looking like she could use some company, shoot your shot, man.” 

The jerk gave him a big smile and two thumbs up.

You wanted to punch both of them. 

You were no longer in need of rescuing but Felix still kept dancing with you. His hands were gentle on your hips, keeping you close but not too close, giving you the freedom to step back should you choose to.

But you didn’t make that choice. 

Your body betrayed you by leaning into him, allowing him to nuzzle your hair and your neck, putting goosebumps all over your arms and Felix smiled when he noticed. When his lips brushed your ear your brain finally kicked back into gear and you broke out of his embrace, surprising him.

“Some nice mates you have there,” you pointed out as you turned to look at him,” And one of yours? Do you have like a spare set of everything? Even girls?”

Felix just shook his head with a bashful smile.

“Of course you do,” you then sighed,”Why am I even surprised? God, you are so…”

“What?” he asked, a playful grin on his face,”What am I?”

“Annoying,” you blurted out,”Privileged, full of yourself, ignorant.”

Beautiful, enchanting, mesmerizing.

“Alright, don’t hold back on me now,” he laughed, seemingly amused by your anger and that only angered you further.

You bit your tongue and then shook your head,”You know what, forget it, I don’t even know why I bother.”

You wanted to turn on your heel but Felix reached for your hand, lacing his long fingers with your much smaller ones and keeping you close to him.

“Why do you bother?” he then asked, intrigued, eyes locking with yours,”Why do you keep coming back here when you clearly hate everything about this place?”

“Because my friend…”

“No, no, no, your friend isn’t even here tonight, that’s an excuse. Why are you here?”

Your mouth opened but the words weren’t coming out. Because you would rather die than admit why you were really here.

“I like big parties where I don’t have to pay for anything,” you lied, avoiding his gaze. Felix just laughed and God, you wanted to wipe that beautiful smile off his gorgeous face so badly.

Then he leaned down to be able to stare deep down into your eyes, his voice nothing but a whisper,”You’re a pretty little liar, new girl.”

His deep voice and intense stare were enough to shut you up entirely and you had to look away from him to find your voice again.

“I had him, I didn’t need you,” you then blurted out.

“Didn’t look like it to me,” he shrugged.

“I would have handled it,” you insisted.

“The right thing to say is thank you, Felix, that was pretty nice of you,” he teased, making your blood boil.

“You…ugh…,” you angrily turned your back on him and stormed off the dance floor.

“You’re welcome,” he yelled after you with a big smile on his face,”See you at the next one, Y/N.”

“Asshole.”

You wanted to hate him, you really did, Felix Catton stood for everything you despised. But you could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, feel where his breath had grazed your neck until your skin erupted in goosebumps, feel how deeply his eyes bored a way straight into your soul.

You hated how you didn’t hate him at all and above all else you hated how he reduced you to just another Felix groupie. That wasn’t you.

He had no idea who you were. 

And he could never find out. 

[gyuswhore]

Remembrance of Ice

"Fear does anything but land with precision."

PAIRING: ice king!xu minghao x fem spy!reader

SYNOPSIS: Xu Minghao rules over a land where the sun never rises and crops never grow, shunned by the world for their nature so ruthless it has them caged within their borders.

That is, until you land straight into the dragon's den to find the story untold.

CONTAINS: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, kinda lore heavy, reader and minghao are in a perpetual spat, talks of military and political power, manipulation (not by minghao), ft. chan

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

masterlist

[AN]: MIKA DAY MIKA DAY MIKA DAY except im a day late bc I don't know how to time manage ANYWAY mika my love I hope you enjoy this you mentioned villain hao that one time and I stuck to it praying this is good ksjgnvrkjgn @toruro

id love to turn this into a longer, more detailed fic in the future, I really like this concept and theres loads more I could do with it. lmk if you'd like to see it hehe

edit: had to repost a couple times cuz it wasn't showing in the tags. it still isn't but idc anymore if this only reaches mika then so be it sgnkrtjg

The cold was the worst. 

Your iced pride had been swallowed down to accept the flimsy cloth the guards that pushed you into this stone dungeon had given you. Not that it was doing much to help you, the thin fabric acting as more of a permeable layer than your gear.

Huddling into yourself, you breathe out warm exhales in the hopes that it’d do something about the face you couldn’t feel anymore. With the sight of your discolouring fingernails, you hope the people in this wretched place would decide what they wanted to do with you before you succumbed to the cold. There’s a bad taste in your mouth at the thought of dying a death like this – that the cold would become your ultimate demise. 

The croning of the metal doors of your prison wrench open in what feels like a deafening sound, the screech having you throw the flimsy blanket off your body in haste. You would not be seen taking advantage of their supposed kindness. 

The two guards that trudge in are quick to tell you to stand. You nearly laugh at the prospect of doing anything they ask. 

“What do you want?” your voice has eroded to a brassy sound. 

“Stand up,” the guard repeats, his face covered in the black balaclava that wraps around everything but spares his eyes. Cold, dark, soulless. 

Your pride screamed to refute. But you were at a dead end, and perhaps it was time to accept it. Eyeing the weapons strapped to both their waists, moreso the lack thereof of your own, you make the first attempt to pull yourself up. It’s difficult, you find, needing a moment to regain your senses before pushing up completely. You tried not to show it, not wanting to look weak in front of the very people you need to show strength. 

“Hands,” the other guard gruffs out. 

You hesitate before bringing your shivering wrists forward, cursing yourself for not being able to control your own body. The cuffs they bind to your wrists are somehow even colder, and you have to consciously bite back a cursed wince. 

Your resolve begins to truly thin when you struggle to simply take a few steps forward, the muscles in your legs frozen like everything else in the room. You manage to not fall. A commendable feat when your goals went from overtaking a couple of (very armed) guards to simply not falling over like a newborn fawn. 

You feel them lightly shove you out the gates, something you should not have struggled to recover from from, but alas, you can only grit your already ground teeth as you try to not tip over entirely. The halls of the dungeons are made of the same gray concrete as your cell, the tight corridor leading you out into an only slightly larger hall with a single door at the seemingly dead end. 

The large brass handle with the distinct reptile circling its expanse stares at you. You are forced to consider the idea that these may be your final breaths. 

One of the guards squeezes out into the hall and approaches the door, three sharp knocks to the wood before you hear a muffled “come in.”

Your feet remain planted to the floor as you feel another push of the guard that remains behind you, urging you forward as the other one stands at the door, expecting you to walk inside. Perhaps some would classify this as a moment of weakness, especially when all you’ve been taught is to face death with anything but fear. But it seeps into your bones regardless. 

You wonder if all those stories you were told of fearless soldiers and sheilds of humans were as lionhearted in their final moments as the storytellers claimed, as brave as the legends that followed. 

You considered yourself one of the best in your field, most of your peers agreed. And yet, that moment of hesitancy in the face of potential death caged you in an unimaginable retaliance. What on Earth was wrong with you? 

And so you moved forward, one foot in front of the other with resilience fueled by pure outrage at your own feeble mind. You would do as you were taught, you would march into the mouth of the dragon because you were not allowed to fear death. You refused to meet your end as a coward. 

The cuffs that encase your wrists burn at the skin as you walk into the room. It’s small, small enough to force you and the two guards to shift closer to keep from the man that stands across the room. 

You almost don’t notice him, which alarms you immensely. Regardless of the stark black attire that matches the dark, gloomy atmosphere of the tiny room, the man seems to blend into the shadows, becoming part of the walls. His back faces you as he looks out the window, like he’s invigorated with the snow that drifts to the earth. 

It’s nighttime. It’s always night time here. 

“The prisoner, sire,” the one in your left gruffs out. 

The man at the window turns to face you, the sight of his face causing you to bite back a gasp. 

His skin is the same colour as the snowflakes that fall behind him, near glistening white. It seems to make every other feature of his face stand out in earnest; the black of his eyes, the crimson of his lips, the dark of his hair. 

He’s gorgeous, you decide, but you also decide that you may be about to die at his hands. 

There’s also the matter of how he was addressed by the goons that flank you. Unless sire means something else in this godforsaken land, you should have realized who this is by now. 

Xu Minghao’s expression remains unchanged, the mild disinterest evident as he barely glances at you before taking a seat at the makeshift office area in the middle of the room. He leans back against the plush, finally regarding the other people in the room with words. 

“You can leave.” 

You hear the guards begin to file out the room. 

“Ah—take off the restraints before you go. And shut the door.” 

You want to describe what his voice sounds like, and while indifferent to another, it’s like a million icicles plunging into your eardrums. It isn’t until the guard blocks your view to unlock you that you realize how strained your eyes were, like it was draining to simply look at him. 

When both guards have left the vicinity, doors closed with a deep thud, you set yourself in steel. Just because he was about to kill you didn't mean you were about to make it easy for him. 

You wonder why a king was meddling to discard a mere enemy officer, but if you knew anything of their bloodthirst, this was a form of amusement. 

“Well?” you say, your voice still bare-there. 

“Take a seat.” He means the lone chair that stands on your side of the table. 

“No,” 

His eyebrows shoot up, “No?”

You stare at him, and it's the first time he’s looked at you for more than three seconds. 

“No,” you reiterate. “If you’d like to eliminate me, I’d suggest we cut to the chase. I don’t want your bleak hospitality.”

“Are you offering your head?”

“I’m asking you to quit the niceties. We know what you are.”

He studies you for a moment before continuing quietly, “Who is we?”

Your jaw is set as you calm yourself down, “The people who keep coming into your barren lands, only to never return. My people.”

“Your people that keep invading this barren land, only to find out that actions have consequences?”

“The mere thought of us is a consequence for you vermin,” you spit.

“Your people, you had said?” There’s a strange hint of jest in his voice, and it only infuriates you even more. 

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Your people who have not once attempted to negotiate your release from us vermin, I thought your people were known for your camaraderie. Especially for such an important soldier, do they truly consider you that disposable? ”

The low fester of embers had now ignited into a full flame, the rage becoming near indescribable. Aside from how heinous, you had underestimated how infuriating his kind could be. 

“You know nothing of me!” your voice is loud, your own shade of venom that laces your tongue. 

And then he says your name. 

You falter. 

He shouldn’t know that. You don’t have a nametag, nothing to identify you on any record, anywhere. And yet, you know what you’ve heard is your name that fell from his lips, undeniably so. 

He continues with the faintest sneer, “Captain of the SUN team, first in line from your peers for a promotion, and of course, right hand of your idiotic General of the Army.” 

You can't be sure if you’re shivering from the cold or the rage that courses through every vein in your body. Perhaps it was the latter as you feel your mind shortcircuit at the sight of his smug face. 

And, of course, with the way you lunge. 

It takes barely a second for your numb fingers to reach his pristine throat, curling with the need to rupture his airways beyond measure. It also takes him barely a second to step out of the way, causing you to thud into the table, fingers faltering as they grasp onto nothing. 

The air is knocked out of your chest, and you don’t realize what’s happened. He’s quick, and you’re out of shape. He’s on the other side of the table, hands in his pockets as he stares at your weak attempts at regaining your bearings. 

“This is the problem with your people. Why must your first response to any confrontation be to fight to the death?”

Leaping over the table, you attempt to corner him against the wall, only to find him leap over to the other side of the table when you advance, switching your initial spots. It might have even been laughable if you weren’t so heated, like children running around in circles in a lethal game of tag. 

He takes advantage of yet another moment of weakness you’ve shown, pushing the separating table directly into you, forcing you back as you stumble to hit the window. The opening is just enough to fit your waist, with no room for your legs to leap back over, locked in at the sides of the table that effectively cages your body between wood and glass. 

Your first instinct is to push the wretched thing back, but you realize very quickly that you can’t. It shouldn’t explain how he was able to cage you in a place like this, especially with his scrawny build. Unless he’s locked it in place somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“What the fuck?” you gasp out to mostly yourself. 

“You’ve weakened, little soldier. I heard you were better than this.” 

“Let me go so I can prove it to you then,” you spit, still fruitlessly struggling against your prison. 

“Had your chance,” he states, hands in his pockets, an eyebrow cocked. “Of course, fear does anything but land with precision. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“What makes you think I’m scared of you?” 

“Oh, you are such a simpleton,” he narrows his eyes. 

“You haven’t been talking about anything of substance for someone who doesn’t claim to be scared. What’s holding you?” you gruff. 

He stares for a moment like he’s studying you. For some reason, your struggling falters, his piercing gaze leaving you wondering what he had up his sleeve. 

“You know you are weak. Your strength isn’t nearly where it had been when you arrived. I’ve also been told you’ve been starving yourself.”

“I said I don’t want your hospitality!”

“You were supposedly indifferent to everyone in the room, including the guards, but you kept your eyes on me like a hawk. The first mention out your mouth was of death.”

“Was I supposed to expect compassion?” you mock, but the desperation lingers in your voice. 

“Can’t be helping knowing nobody is looking for you,” he finishes. 

“Because you would’ve sent me on my way home if they were? Don’t make me laugh.” 

“Quite right, yes.”

“Like you did with the other soldiers that seemingly disappear in your lands?”

“Nobody asked, so we did not deliver.” 

“Lies!” It comes out as a near scream.

You think of all the stretched months that turned into inevitable years trying to retrieve your lost manpower. Of course, your higher-ups asked for hostage negotiations, did everything in their power to bring them home. 

Fitting for the man in front of you to deny it, but infuriating nonetheless. 

“And you’re wildly defensive,” he sighs. “You’re scared. Of being in enemy territory, of dying, of being alone. One or the other, that’s for you to decide.”

You want to scream again. 

“They lied to you, soldier. And I may be a villain in your self-written history books, but you will come to know of the harsh truth, from me or anybody else. You should know what exactly it is that you’re fighting for.” 

“What are you yapping about?”

He turns back around, moving to the door before rapping a knock. The guards re-enter the room.

“Take her to base.”

“Chan?” 

He stands at the entrance of the tent, speaking to somebody in armor with a solemn expression. He turns around at the sound of his name, catching sight of you walking up. 

He breaks out into a smile at the sight of you, eyes going wide as he excuses himself to sprint over. You’re not quite sure if the fatigue is causing you to hallucinate, but with the way his face becomes clearer with every step he takes, you have to convince yourself that you’re not. 

As appropriate as it is to slam into him in a hug, considering you thought he was dead mere seconds ago, you can’t see yourself caring. 

“They told me it was you that arrived,” he says. 

“Oh my god, I thought you were dead. Everybody thought you were dead. How are you here?” you breathe into his ear. 

He pulls away slowly, and you note how he doesn’t meet your eyes. 

“Chan?” 

“There’s a lot to unpack here. Let’s get you cleaned up first.” 

A lot to unpack there was, you realize, as the guards leave you with Chan when said to. The questions doubled when you entered the significantly warmer tent to find it swarming with familiar faces, busy working on tables littered with charts and papers, military symbols drifting overhead. 

Chan is quick to let you know that none of the ‘fallen’ soldiers were missing at all. In fact, were stationed here at this military base. 

Your gaping mouth renders no response as he fishes you both through the hustle and bustle of the industrial canopies, destination unknown. As much as you’d kick yourself for your lack of vigilance, you find yourself trusting him to take you wherever, your mind preoccupied with trying to absorb every detail of your environment.

If this was what sensory overload was, you’re not sure you like it blocking your thinking capabilities this much.

He lets you into another tent, littered with trunks and equipment, lit with a couple hardworking oil lamps. He goes to rummaging in random trunks as you watch. 

“What is this place?”

“Inventory. Clothes and a bunch of other stuff,” he says as he throws you a pile of fabric. “Here, change into this, it’s warmer.”

He leaves you alone in the tent to change, which you do quickly to meet him again outside. Moving the flap of the tent away, you find him out in the snow waiting.

It isn’t until you’ve adequately cornered him that you can ask. “Chan, are being held here against your will? Is everybody here—”

“Wait, hold,” he holds a hand up to silence you. “Just—let me explain.”

You’re rendered silent in a corner of this base camp, albeit a little warmer than when you came in with the effective coat you’re now shrouded in. Other than being lost in a mine of confusion, you notice the calculated expression on Chan’s face when you bring it up. Like he didn’t know how you’d react.

“There’s been a lot of lies our entire life. One’s that we didn’t realize till we landed here,” he starts, facing the endless plane of snow to the East.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” you ask, keeping your eyes steady on him.

“These people aren’t cruel, nor are they the animals we’ve been told they are,”

“Chan, what is wrong with you?” you take a step back in mild exasperation. 

“Listen, this sounds insane, but it’s only because we’ve been brought up to believe anything the government told us, anything our superiors drilled into our heads. I’d started having doubts while we were still home—”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Nobody wanted to tell you anything. You were more loyal to the General than you were to yourself!”

“I—because…” you falter. He was right. 

“They’ve taken advantage of the way this land refuses to retaliate. We’ve been in the wrong this whole time.”

“I don’t know what it is that they’ve been feeding you for so long, but this isn’t the Chan that left home all those months ago.”

“You’re right,” you hear, but it’s not Chan. 

Whipping your head around, you find the overlord himself walking to where you were. 

“Apologies for interrupting, but I think you’re needed back there, Chan,” Minghao informs him as he regards him.

You whip back around to Chan, “Wait, you can’t just—”

“Listen, it’s going to take you a little bit, but I promise you’ll see what I mean,” he reiterates. 

“This is absurd—” you start again but are cut off by him again. He lurches forward, grasping both your wrists in his, forcing you to pay attention to him. 

“Do you trust me?”

“W-what?” 

“Answer the question. Do you trust me?”

You stare at him, stumped for a moment. Did you trust him? Five months ago, before he left, you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. Yet, now you find yourself hesitating. 

“Yes. I trust you,” you decide out loud. 

“Then give it time. You’re shaken, you’re exhausted, you’re confused. You’ll make your decision yourself when you see for yourself.”

He watches your shoulders droop ever so slightly, a clear sign of your surrender. “Fine.”

“Good.”

You turn back to find the other man long gone, the vast expanse of snow and darkness engulfing the plane that leads to the congregation of tents. Chan begins to lead you back, mumbling about how he needs to get back inside. 

It’s during your trudge that you realize there’s something that still bugs you, supposing you’d get your answer if you asked him. 

“What’s the king doing meddling in military bases and war prisoners?” you begrudgingly ask.

“He’s very… hands-on, I guess. He cares about what happens around here, his land, his people.” 

“Like a normal ruler?” you mumble in annoyance.

“When was the last time you saw the General leave his office?” 

You haven’t. 

A month. That’s how long you’ve been at this base camp. 

Enlightenment may be an understatement to what this place is giving you, absurdities that they call the truth. Absurdities, as you may have called them a moon ago. 

This barren country did not have a military, you were told. These makeshift headquarters were made to keep up with the endless external aggressions from the other side. 

“They’re all people given the choice to stay. We needed the manpower. Military precision was never our forte,” Minghao explains. 

You hate how he has an answer to every critical question of yours, how you’ve gone past thinking this was some elaborate, well-thought-out story to put your guard down, to put everyone’s guard down. 

Sitting at this wooden table with maps and charts littering the surface, he looks you down from the other end. Chan remains silent next to you, knowing that if you asked, he would’ve given you the same response. 

“So you’re trying to build an army? To what, retaliate?” Your arms remain crossed over your middle.

“We cannot retaliate,” Chan says. 

“The difference in military power is too much, anyway. We can’t fight something that fights us in different ways,” Minghao finishes. He looks stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose. You watch him drag a chair to sit down. 

The majority of camp was resting for the day, leaving the base relatively empty save for the three of you. 

“Different ways?” you question.

You watch him close his eyes, running a hand over his face. “Chan, you told me she was smart.” 

“She’s having a harder time adjusting than I thought she would,” he chuckles humourlessly in response. 

“Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to take another month to figure it out on my own?” you snap. 

“What have you been told about our borders? Why is this land the way that it is,” Minghao starts. 

You don’t have an answer because you’ve never been told. The general was forever adamant that a land and its people were interconnected, that Minghao’s nation was as ruthless as the land itself was. 

“What about what you thought?” he tries again. 

“Nature’s weird, I don’t know,” you huff. 

“You were so loyal to a man that had no rhyme to his reason. How blind did you have to be—”

“Keep to the question,” you monotone.

He exhales before continuing. “This land is the incarnation of balance. It might not look like it, but we play the most important role in making sure your nations remain stable.” 

“Regular communities cannot survive in this weather, the livestock perishes, and crops cannot grow. Everything that makes humanity thrive remains absent here.” Minghao places his elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “But it remains like this here so the rest of the world can foster humanity; that’s the purpose of this land.” 

“A sacrifice of sorts,” Chan adds quietly. 

“My land remains lifeless so others may thrive,” Minghao finishes. 

“Why…why this land?” you question after a few beats. 

He leans back against his chair, “I don’t know. Perhaps my ancestors were cursed. Perhaps this is just what this land was made to do. All I know is that my mother and father left me the job of ensuring this place is protected, as their mother and father taught them. All for the sake of keeping balance.” 

It was wildly ironic that a place that was the definition of extreme was seemingly also harboring the balance to this world, but you found no jest in his words. You had also learned that it was the more unbelievable things here that would turn out to be most true, so you let yourself believe in whatever lore you had just unlocked. 

“So you can’t retaliate,” you echo. 

“Not if we wish to keep the peace, no.”

Chan chimes in this time, “This is all really just a misunderstanding that’s fallen into the wrong hands. The General’s a bloodthirsty fuck; this is just an excuse for him to retain power and satisfy all his sick fantasies.”

“How do we fix this then?” you dare to ask.

“We can’t,” Minghao says. “Not right now, at least. If we want to make a move, we have to grow as an entity. What your General doesn’t understand is how he’s feeding his own enemy whenever he sends some poor soldier our way.” 

“That’s what everyone’s been working on. The SUN team is nearly complete with you here. We need to equip everyone here with skills more than anything,” Chan says. 

“And then?” 

“And then we let the General know who’s side we’re really on.”

Xu Minghao had a very peculiar way as King. 

Other than remaining in the same bunkers as the rest of the population, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone besides the guards address him as sovereign. He sat with everyone during mealtimes, spoke to everyone like a friend, yet remained the one in charge. 

Over the months, you remained the last newcomer of the bunch, learning slowly but surely of your new truth. That was, until your sixth month. 

It happened during breakfast, walking out into the dark sky to greet the person Minghao had told you was the newest aggravated prisoner. You knew her from headquarters, having seen her multiple times as she trained, but never learned her name. Her brows unfurrow slightly at the sight of you, recognizing you immediately. 

You try to stay as others who remain familiar to the newcomer speak to her, adding where your credibility was due. You underestimated how difficult it would be, not because she was being frustrating, but because she was frustrated. 

With every surge of exasperation she showed, every snarky remark to words of reason, you saw yourself. A strange, heavy feeling sets itself in your chest, making it difficult to speak, difficult to simply stand there as you watch her ideologies rendered as lies. 

So you excuse yourself, moving out of the way into the snow you’d learned to make a confidant instead of an irritation. It wasn’t strange to find somebody contemplating alone in the snow, the constant darkness ready to keep everyone company. 

You aren’t sure what it is that you want to contemplate, but simply sitting in the snow helps, allowing you to remain unstimulated. The weird feeling remained, but what also remained was your brain's inability to distinguish one from the other. 

You don’t know how long you had been sitting there, but are aware of the lighter sheen of blue that the sky has turned into when you hear trudging behind you. You turn to find Minghao approaching, halting a foot away. 

“Did you see the newcomer?” he asks.

“Yeah. They’re handling it, she’ll be fine.”

It falls silent once more. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t warmed up to the man in the past months, perhaps even enough to call yourself friends. Chan had quite the role to play in that. 

He invites himself to sit next to you in the snow, letting out a deep exhale that fogs the air. “I wanted to ask if you were okay.” 

You’re stumped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…” he chortles. “You’ve been sitting here for a good three hours, so I only thought it was natural to assume.”

“It’s not good to assume.”

“And that you can’t be doing too well seeing the newcomer.”

“...Got me,” you whisper, still gazing into the far-off mountains. 

“You can talk about it if you want,” he offers. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sigh.

“Or is there too much to talk about?” he raises a brow. 

You’ve turned to look at him at this point, making out his facial features with the low light of the lamps that burn in the distance. 

“How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Know what I’m thinking about.”

“You’re easier to read than you think,” he chuckles. “Why? D’you think I’m reading your mind?”

“Seems like it sometimes.”

“Do you miss home?” he asks, albeit a little cautiously. 

“I do. I miss what it meant to me. I don’t think I could go back and feel the same way, though,” you answer. If he was trying to get you to open up, he was succeeding. 

“Why’s that?” 

You snort, “Obvious, isn’t it? Can’t call a place full of lies home. I can’t believe I let them manipulate me to that extent.” 

You think of the mental turmoil on the girl's face. 

“It wasn’t your fault. You were doing what you taught.”

“Other people found holes in the story, though. They saw the beginnings of what was really happening. I was so blind, they couldn’t even try to talk me out of it.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself. It was the General’s job to be conniving. What use if his right hand could see through it. With how long it took you to come around, it only shows how dangerous he is.”

You remain silent as you absorb his words. There was truth to them, but you find it hard to dissolve it into your mindset. 

“What matters is you're here now, that you chose the truth despite what you’d grown to learn.” He’s staring right at you when he says it, something you find as you look up to do the same. 

There’s a lurch in your stomach, one that has your cheeks burning despite the temperature. 

“How do you not hate any of these people? How do you not hate me? We’re the reason your people are so detested,” your voice comes out shaky, yet thick with a weird mix of emotions. 

“I hate the ones that choose to be like this despite knowing what the truth is.”

“Like the General?”

“Like the General.” 

It’s silent as you watch him gaze into your soul, an uncomfortable feeling yet one that stops you from looking away. 

You want to kiss him. 

The thought alone has you jumping in place, shaking off the way your body seems to have seized up. You move your knees away in blatant ignorance, looking at anything but his face. 

“What?” he asks at your sudden change in behavior.

“Nothing!” you say, a little too loud to be considered casual. 

“Why’d you move away?” 

“I didn’t!” Of course, you realize how stupid you sound. You huff as you continue, “Just—I don’t know!”

“You don’t know what?” 

“Goodness, you need to learn to drop things.”

“Not when it involves me,” he says.

“Who says it involves you?”

“Do we need to go over this again?” 

You look at him in question, only to realize he could read you just as well as he could at any other instance. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” you finally say. 

“Try me.”

“Would you hate me if I said I wanted to kiss you?”

He pauses for an agonizing few moments, ones that make you feel like erupting into a ball of fire that could melt all the snow in the land. Your numb fingers fidget with each other, hating yourself as soon as the words come out of your mouth. 

Minghao uses his mouth in ways other than words when you feel it against your lips. It takes you a moment to realize what’s happening and another to let your body take control.

He’s kissing you so painfully slow it has you wondering if you’re imagining it, the feeling of his surprisingly warm lips on your frozen ones. You pull away for a moment, a question ringing in your mind. 

“I’m not making a mistake, am I?” you breathe into his mouth. 

“Absolutely not,” he says, diving back in with a force not present before. 

You throw your arms around him in instinct to keep yourself from falling back onto the snow in his newfound enthusiasm. Not that you can find yourself complaining, especially not when his tongue prods against your bottom lip, urging you to open up for him. 

You let him pull you closer, let him explore your mouth, let him hold you as you give yourself up to the feelings that now, after so long, have finally boiled over.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, remaining in each other’s arms as you gain your bearings. 

“Figured it out, did you?” he asks with the slightest smirk. 

Of course, with every passing instance that he’s reminded you of the mental walls you don’t seem to have with him, this was perhaps his end goal. You want to ask when he figured out you liked him before, wondering if he had known before you had in the first place. 

He doesn’t let you, though, as his smiling lips meet yours again, chasing the feeling that's come forth after months of waiting. 

You’ll find out the run down soon enough. For now, you give into him, believing in your ice-cold heart that Xu Minghao would never lie to you. 

Taglist: @weird-bookworm @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

[gumisgirlfriend]

CHAPTER 3:: COMMITMENT

PAIRING:: fem!reader x college au stoner megumi fushiguro

SUMMARY:: against your better judgement, you go to megumi's apartment alone, and he opens up to you.

C/W:: no nsfw content, but MINORS DNI or you get blocked! weed usage. reader is #hopelessromantic coded A/N:: *shoves this into your hands* for you, pookie :3

The moment replays again in your head.

“Let me show you what a real good high feels like sometime.”

“…. What?” you muttered, dumbfounded. “What is that supposed to mean?” You cock your head at him curiously.

Megumi stared at you blankly, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be cute right now?” he grumbles. You shake your head frantically.

“N-No, I just don’t understand—“

He interrupted you with an exasperated sigh, “My place, tomorrow. Be ready by 6:30. Got it?”

“S-Sure?”

The memory makes you stuff your face back into your pillow. What kind of an answer even was that? You sit back up, checking the time to see it’s early in the morning, and Maki still hasn’t returned yet. Out of excitement, your first instinct is to text Maki and Nobara, and tell them about it, but on second thought, it’s probably not too great of an idea, and you remember the last thing Megumi said to you before you got out of the car.

“Just don’t tell the others ‘bout it, kay?

You toss the covers off yourself, stomping as you get up to go to the bathroom. You can’t help but worry about a possible ulterior motive. I mean, everything about him tells you to run away. He smokes, has a beat up car, dirty apartment, and Nobara clearly doesn’t approve of you going after him. Hell, his best friend Yuji is even in a fraternity, but you owe him, and he offered a way to repay him. You ponder it over as you aggressively splash your face with cold water.

Suddenly, your front door opens, and Maki peeks into your shared bathroom. “There you are. You feeling alright?” she asks, her brows knitting with concern.

“Yeah, I think I just had too much last night.” you mutter, drying off your face with a towel.

“It happens. Happened to ‘Gumi once too, back when we were sophomores.” She says with a chuckle, grabbing her toothbrush from the mirror compartment. You flinch from the sound of something toppling over from outside the bathroom.

“Who’s here?”

“Just Yuji and Nobara. Megumi kicked us out cause he has a shift at the campus library. Last time we were left alone at his apartment, Yuji ransacked his fridge.”

You chuckle lightly, “Makes sense.”

Every little detail you find out about Megumi only makes your curiosity pique. You consider heading to the library just to catch a glimpse of him, but then you realize you’re also starting to sound like a stalker. Your phone buzzes in the back of your pocket and you whip it out haphazardly.

“Got a favorite kind of food?”

A giddy smile spreads across your cheeks as you read it.

“sour gummy worms!!! :)” you type back.

You receive another notification, “Okay”

You roll your eyes. Maybe he’s just not fond of texting..

“We’re probably going to head to the library to get some studying out of the way, you wanna come?” Maki asks, toothbrush still hanging from her mouth as she pours herself some mouthwash.

“No thanks. I have a class in twenty minutes.” You say while you slip on a pair of sneakers. As much as you’d like to go give him a visit, it would probably spoil your excitement for later.

Maki nudges you in the rib, “Seems like Megumi has taken a liking to you. That doesn’t happen often.”

Your cheeks fill with heat, “You really think so?” you say hesitantly, chewing on your bottom lip.

Your dorm mate shrugs, “I mean, yeah. It’s weird though. I never thought that you’d be his type.”

You raise your brow confusedly, “.. What is that supposed to mean?” you ask.

Maki sets a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way..” she says, “But.. you’re sort of a goody-two-shoes.”

Your smile melts into a frown, “Is that.. a bad thing?” you ask awkwardly.

She sighs deeply, “Forget about it. Just be careful with him. He’s not exactly the.. committal type.” She pats you lightly on the back before leaving you in the bathroom with your thoughts.

Your mouth sets in a hard line, and for a second, you’re starting to regret your decision.

Of course, you spent extra time getting ready today to look as good as possible. Two hours, in fact. Today you chose to wear a cute backless top, and shorts, regardless of the freezing weather. You snatch your purse and check the time. “Only 6:25..” you mutter. “Might as well.” You head outside to wait, but you spot a familiar, beat up car in the corner of the parking lot, and an even more familiar face leaning against it.

“How long have you been waiting here?” you ask sweetly, Megumi’s gaze rising from his phone.

He shrugs, “Just got here, actually.” he says, holding the car door open for you before you slip inside. He sits down beside you in the drivers seat, grabbing a bag of sour gummy worms out from the console. Your eyes light up as he drops it in your lap.

“Oh! Thank you.” You say with a wide smile as you tear open the bag, stuffing a few into your mouth.

He nods, “Save some for later. You’re probably gonna be hungry.” You nod back, smiling all giddy like a happy child as you stuff your face with sour gummy worms.

“Want one?” you ask, muffled from your cheeks stuffed with gummy worms. He waves you off, and you put on an exaggerated frown.

His gaze flickers from you back to the road, “Fine. I’ll take one.” Megumi mutters, rolling his eyes. You gladly hand him one and he pops it into his mouth. His face contorts, “Way too sweet.” he comments, shaking his head.

“I think somethings wrong with your tastebuds.” you say with a small grin, crossing your legs.

“I think somethings wrong with you.” he says nonchalantly.

You pout at him, “Hey! That's not very nice..” you reply, tossing a gummy worm at him.

His typically neutral expression shifts into a slight smile. “I’m just kidding. I’m glad you like them. Didn’t know which ones I should get..”

After a couple minutes of silence, besides the sound of the radio, you interrupt, “So.. why do you feel the need to do this?” you ask, fumbling with the bag of gummy worms in your lap.

Megumi’s gaze flickers back to you for a split second, “Don’t have a reason. Just wanted to.” He clears his throat, sitting up a bit straighter. His fingers tap on the edge of the steering wheel to the beat of the radio as you turn the next corner.

You sit comfortably on Megumi’s cold leather couch, shivering. Oddly enough, you swear his apartment looks a lot cleaner than before..

“Do you not have a heater or something?” you mutter, your teeth chattering. You didn’t expect it to be so cold.

Megumi shakes his head. He pulls off his hoodie over his head, and you catch a glimpse of his V line as the shirt underneath lifts up. He tosses it in your direction. “Take that. There’s a blanket under the coffee table, too.” he replies gruffly as he opens the fridge.

These few minutes of silence with him feels.. comfortable. You don’t feel like you have to force yourself to speak, or scan your mind for any possible topics to bring up. You just sit there idly, a faint smile on your face, tracing shapes on the leather couch while you wait for him to return. He comes back to the couch shortly with a plate of brownies.

“Brownies?” you utter with confusion, pulling his sweatshirt over your head. It smells of lavender, cologne, and sweat. An oddly comforting scent. You relax on the couch as you wrap the blankets around your freezing legs.

“Yeah. They’re edible brownies. Made them myself.” he says with confidence, setting the plate down on the coffee table.

Your mouth hangs open for a few seconds with admiration, “Really? Thats.. cool.” You smile earnestly as he plops down beside you.

He raises his eyebrows, “Yeah, I guess.” he says quietly, cutting off a small piece for you.

“Hey! Why do I get such a small piece?” you ask, flicking him on the arm playfully.

“Cause you’re still new to this, idiot. And I wanted to make them strong enough for me, too.” He holds the piece out for you, and you hesitantly pop it in your mouth.

You raise your eyebrows as you ponder the taste, “Mm, tastes funky..” you say as you chew it up. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it doesn’t taste bad necessarily.

Megumi snorts, “Yeah, there’s weed in it, idiot.” he says with a grin, before taking a bite out of the whole brownie, and you swear that’s the first time you’ve seen him smile in front of you genuinely.

You shake your head, “What happened to the nice guy who saved me at the party?” you tease with faux disappointment, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

Megumi scoffs, “He’s sitting right front of you.” Megumi kicks his legs up on coffee table, stretching out comfortably. He holds the plate of brownies in his lap, popping another in his mouth. His fingers tap idly on the edge of the plate, “These will probably take a while to kick in, so..” He grabs a tv remote from his coffee table compartment, along with two gaming controllers. He tosses one into your lap, “You any good at Mario Kart?”

“I think I can feel it now..” You whisper, slowly turning your gaze to him as an unfamiliar heat pulses throughout your body.

Megumi narrows his eyes, “Why are you whispering?” he asks, sneaking a quick glance at you before turning back to his phone.

You pause for a minute, before sputtering out; “I-I don’t know..”

He laughs, “Yeah, you’re definitely high right now.” he says with a shy smile, setting his phone down beside him. “Feels better than yesterday?”

You nod and your mouth uncontrollably curves into a cheesy smile. “Yeah. Feels good.” you giggle out, hiding the lower half of your face in the blanket. You curl up, holding your knees to your chest.

He nods back, “Good,” he mutters softly. “I felt bad about last night. As much as I like those guys.. they tend to be even a bit much for me, sometimes.” he says, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. For the first time, you really take in his appearance. His blue eyes, long eyelashes, and messy hair. He’s gorgeous, really. You wonder how you’re even breathing the same air right now, or even in the same room. A slight blush creeps up his neck, “You okay?” he asks nervously. You realize you’ve probably been staring at him for at least 30 seconds.

You feel a flutter in your stomach, similar to when you had first met. “Sorry. Spaced out.” you say with an awkward smile, clasping your hands together in your lap. Finally, your intoxication gives you the courage to ask what you’ve been wondering. “So.. question.” you ask hesitantly.

He quirks his brow, “Ask.”

You lean your hand into your palm, “What happened between you and Nobara?” you ask. He responds with a deep sigh, that leads you to guess it didn't go over well. Maybe it was too personal a question. "S-Sorry, you don't have to answer. I don't know why I asked that, really-" you stammer, before he interrupts you. "Its fine. I assumed she'd probably tell you eventually." he says lowly, massaging the back of his neck. "Its.. difficult to explain." "I'll listen." you say with a small smile, nodding understandingly. Megumi leans his head back, staring at the ceiling as if he's trying to recall the relationship. "It was nothing to do with Nobara. I just don't like relationships." he says bluntly, combing a hand through his raven hair. "The commitment it requires. The energy, the time." You bite your lip as you listen to his every word, each one driving you further to disappointment. "Its hard to see myself with someone for the rest of my life." You avert your gaze, "Yeah, I understand what you mean." you say with a forced smile. Realistically, you don't understand it at all. You had dreamed for so long to have a partner. Someone to treat you right, make you feel loved and cared for, and right when you think you've found a possible contender, you get your heart crushed. He curls a lock of his hair around his finger, fidgeting with it. "Maybe that'll change, though. I don't really know yet." He shifts his gaze back to you, lips pressed into a line. "Anyways, enough about me." He sits on his side, facing you. "Tell me more about you." Of course, high out of your mind, you spill every little detail about yourself that comes to mind, including nearly your whole life story, but the whole time he just.. sits there and listens. Never interrupting, unless to ask a clarifying question. He nods attentively, watching you explain your life up until this very moment, sometimes even a faint smile tugging at his lips. Eventually you realize the sun has set outside, you can barely see him with the dim light of the Mario Kart game paused mid-game on the TV screen, and you've completely forgotten about your gummy worms. Your eyes start to drift closed every few seconds involuntarily, before snapping awake again. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep too, his legs intertwining with yours beneath the blanket as you both rest, and you dream of your black-haired savior over and over again.

— TAGLIST :: @diogodxlot

* ˚ ✦ CHAPTER 1 :: black-haired angel: you get invited by your best friend nobara to your first college sorority party, and after being harassed by a college student, a black-haired stranger swoops in to your rescue.

* ˚ ✦ CHAPTER 2 :: green out: after being invited to your first smoke sesh with your friends, you green out, and megumi helps you out once again.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Furia

Chapter Twenty Three

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Isaac/Tamara,

Word Count: 1780

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, the thing is they hurt each other a lot, most of the time without meaning to.

A/N: We pick up right where we left off. Trouble tries to get ready to go out on tour, Dean sets off alarms.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t fair, you were not being fair. But that didn’t change that sick feeling crawling up your throat. Face burning, you looked at Dean who was pointedly not looking at you. You counted the deep breaths he took, his nostrils flared less the longer you sat in suffocating silence.

You should have said something.

You had no idea how to take it back. It wasn’t even what you said, it was how you said it, so derisively.

You wanted to disappear.

The traffic on the freeway only seemed to get worse the longer you sat. It had been a good day, even with Dean’s snippiness over the Rolling Stone article. Why did you have to open your big mouth?!

You bit the inside of your cheek, you were not going to cry. You knew how guys felt about girls crying, it’s a cop out, or a pathetic ‘get out of jail free’ card. Despite knowing girls usually cried out of frustration rather than actual sadness. You didn’t want to come off as pandering or fucking weak.

“Look—- I don’t want to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But, we’ve all seen how well the press and the fans have responded to you two. Is this something I need to put the brakes on? Because I need to know before we start touring.”

Dean huffed. “It’s fine—- it’s not about Bela, okay? It was just an honest question.”

You waited because it felt like he had more to say. You owed it to him to let him say his piece.

He let out a self deprecating chuckle. “You really think it’s just because I’m a horndog, I’d want out?”

“Dean— I didn’t mean it like that, I—”

“No, you did. You were very clear. I just gotta know, Y/N, is there no other reason you can think of for me to want out than some easy lay?”

He wasn’t even pretending to keep his eyes on the road anymore. His jaw was tight and his eyes were dark and glossy and every hope you’d ever had fluttered in your stomach.

You were supposed to say something back.

But you had already said too much.

You couldn’t lose him over something as avoidable as a misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t— nu-uh, that’s not what I asked. I don’t want your apology, here, okay? Just—- tell me there’s something else that could get me out of this without being the bad guy.”

It hurt to look at him. 

But God was it even harder to look away.

“I can talk to Crowley— work out a timeline if you want?”

Dean shook his head, looked to the ceiling of the impala, and exhaled deeply. “No—- we’re good. But if you ever think of an answer. I want to hear you say it.”

You looked down at your lap, your phone case biting into your palm where you squeezed it. 

“I don’t know what you’re fishing for, Dean. I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologize, but I feel like I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth tonight.”

“It’s okay, Trouble. No hard feelings. Promise.”

You looked up to make sure he wasn’t still pissed.

“Seriously?”

Dean’s mouth twitched with a ghost of a smile. “Seriously.”

It wasn’t until you were safe and distracted with drinks and everyone else at Elizabeth’s that you realized Dean had called you by your real name. You couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

No one really talks about the non-glamourous tasks required before going on tour. Especially not the ones that have nothing to do with the music and everything to do with leaving your home for months on end. Your personal to-do list always fell by the wayside when it came to the band, but you were running out of time on it now. In less than 48 hours, the opening act would take the stage. 

And three days after that you would officially be on the road, for nearly six months straight. 

You shoved a quart of half-eaten fried rice into a garbage bag and moved onto the vegetable drawer. Cleaning out the fridge didn’t take very long, but going through your pantry was a nightmare. When did you even buy half of this shit?! The cans would last, but a lot of the boxed stuff was already halfway to expiring so you set them aside to drop off somewhere over the next couple of days. 

Then you wiped everything down.

By the time the kitchen surfaces were done, you were sweaty and gross. But you had too much momentum to stop there. You swept and mopped the floor. You took a breath and pushed on. Later that evening while taking out the trash, your neighbor, Isaac, waved at you over the half-fence.

“Getting ready to get back on the road then?” His accent was pleasant as ever.

You sighed and blew a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. “Getting there. I never understand how much I need to clean with it just being me. But here I am, like usual.”

He poked at some meat on the grill as he made conversation. “Tam said we’re due over tomorrow to go over things before you leave?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, anytime after you both get home from work is fine, I’ll just be forcing myself to actually pack at that point. I really appreciate you guys looking over the place.”

“It’s nothing really. Plus you more than compensate us for it, love.”

“I know, but still.” You looked down at your dust streaked tshirt and ratty sweats and decided you had been out in the world long enough looking like that. “Alright, I better get back inside. See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

“TTFN!”

You smiled to yourself as you stepped back inside through the side door. You were so lucky to have good neighbors, especially with the way your job worked. Dean had told you all about Tamara and Isaac before you moved in, making sure you knew everything from the seriousness of not asking about kids to the humor of not insulting classic Doctor Who.

When Dean remembered, he’d still meet Isaac at one of the few English style pubs for a football match every now and again.

And they didn’t seem to mind housesitting for you whenever you needed.

The smell of the dry rub from Isaac’s grill haunted you as you went back into your clean, yet emptied out kitchen. It just meant another night of delivery was in your future.

You woke up grumpy from an incessant buzzing coming from your phone. The first notification was from Twitter and you opened it without checking anything else.

Ugh, okay, fine. Dean dropped Bela off late last night. You weren’t too worried about it. So you tried to go back to sleep. But a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept prodding the possibilities into your thoughts.

Before jumping to any conclusions, you got out of bed and started a pot of coffee.

There had been a lot of little things you had to ignore in the day-to-day of being the band’s publicist, and even more you had to try and bury as their friend. Cas’ penchant for banging journalists was one of the ongoing thorns in your side. And of course all of Lee and Pamela’s on-again-off-again nonsense came up more than was even happening. But Dean knew how to leave a hook up. He also knew when he was being tailed. 

This entire headline smelled fishy.

You bit your lip and opened your contacts. It was still too early for a business call, especially since you knew he was out until after bar close, but you couldn’t wait any longer for answers.

The phone rang in your ear and you silently begged your coffee pot to brew faster. Dean answered just before it would have sent you to his voicemail.

“I’m up— where’s the fire?” Dean mumbled into the microphone.

Without any preamble, you started in on the questions. “Have you seen the latest? People are up in arms over you squealing out of Bela’s driveway this morning. What happened?” 

“Uh, hold on,” Dean must have moved the phone or covered the mouthpiece because you could hear his voice rumbling, but couldn’t make out a single thing he said. Then came a bunch of muted background noises and a door opening and closing. “Okay, wanna run that past me again? Slower and without the accusatory tone— it’s not even fucking nine am, Trouble.”

Your suspicions continued to rise. “Where are you?”

“In a hallway.”

Not ‘the’ hallway, not ‘my’ hallway, an unspecified singular hallway.

“Dean—”

“Look. The paps were fucking vultures last night, I caught one of them trying to lowjack Baby. So, I ditched her, and Sam got her back home safe. I circled back after I knew they’d scattered and I stayed put. There’s nothing to worry about. Just people trying to make me look bad for being too smart for their slimy ways.”

Your brain hissed like a television left between channels, not a signal coming or going in either direction.

“You’re at Bela’s.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yep.”

Your business brain rebooted, slowly.

“Trouble?”

You called him, you should have said something already. “Okay, so, uh, I guess just make sure to leave publicly. Or go out for breakfast or something. Just don’t leave it how they’re spinning it.”

Dean huffed. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Tomorrow is the morning show interview, you said you’d pick me up? Is that still gonna happen or should I just get an Uber? I’ll just call an Uber.”

“I mean, yeah, gotta be home to drag Sam with anyway. So you don’t gotta. We’ll be there with bells on right at five.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“I should go—”

“Right, of course. Bye.”

“Talk to you later.”

You hung up and your coffee pot finally whistled, signaling it had completed brewing.

You moved through your morning routine in a fog. Even when Bela posted a gorgeous fruit plate between matching mimosas sometime before noon, you only gave it a heart and moved on to folding your next load of laundry. Once you let yourself look at what was happening, you gave into the anger. You screamed into an old hoodie until you were hoarse.

Dean was actually sleeping with Bela.

Your two best friends were fucking.

The same best friends you had set up to help make your job easier.

What the fuck was your life?

And how the hell were you supposed to pretend any of this was okay?!

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 24: Espansivo

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I I if maybe you could give me a bit of angry König 🥺.

Just I just wanna leak some important Intel and get abducted by that mountain of a man and have my little pussy ruined in an confined space. I would love mutual pining co-workers to enemies having some hate sex. I need him to call me an ossi, a filthy piefke verräterin. He's maybe still bitter about his hochkönig origins.

It is so soothing to read all these fics, finally dirty talk that makes sense in my head. Even if at times it's a little bad. Thank you thank you.

König x f!reader

Warnings: kinda rough sex, angry könig, kissing, cunnilingus, fingering

You shouldn't enjoy the way he glares at you--those gorgeous eyes of his boring into your very soul. You should be afraid, and though your heart does beat a little faster, it has nothing to do with fear.

You had been told that König got along with everyone, but you soon found that once you lose his trust, there is no coming back.

It was one lousy mistake. The one time you didn't listen to his orders and everything went to shit. He blamed you for it and now you were dealing with the consequences.

No matter how hard you tried, he drifted further away.

The truth is, he has a broken heart, one that he shouldn't have in the first place.

But you don't know that. How were you supposed to know?

You hate the tension that has grown between you two. You hate how he looks through you now instead of at you how he used to. You wanted your König back, but he was making it nearly impossible.

You have to corner him, you thought. Good idea, but how the hell will you corner a man who can shove you aside with one swipe of his arm?

You'd think of something.

--

The opportunity presents itself when walking past the gym at an ungodly hour. You both didn't sleep well, so you aren't surprised to see him in there. You walk in quietly and watch him for a moment, worrying your lip between your teeth as he grunts with each rep.

"Hi," you say quietly.

He stops and turns to you. "Hello." He hesitates but only shakes his head and turns away again.

"What are you doing up?" you ask.

"You know the answer to that," he says without turning around. You walk into his line of vision.

"I couldn't sleep either," you tell him. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" he asks, but you know that he knows.

"About the fact that one little mistake I made has you treating me like shit," you say a little angrier than you wanted.

"It was not a little mistake," he say, breathing heavily. He stands and walks away from you.

"Talk to me." You jog to catch up to him and block his path.

"No."

You look around for something, anything to stop him. "Spar?" That gets his attention. You walk over to the mat and wait for him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says even as he makes his way over.

"I'll be fine." You take off your hoodie.

"Remember to..."

"Go low," you say, "I know."

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

"Because I want to. If you're this angry at me, then...let it out."

He freezes in place and glares at you. "Are you asking me to hurt you?"

You shrug. "I don't know what else I need to do to make you---"

He storms up to you. "You have lost your fucking mind," he snaps. "To think I would intentionally hurt you..." Suddenly, he grabs your face, smushing your cheeks. You only look at him.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

He lets your face go, only to grab your wrist and drag you out of the gym and down the hall. He opens the first door he sees, and it looks to be some sort of storage closet.

"What the hell?" You eye him angrily.

He takes a few deep breaths, his big hand on the closed door.

"You want to know why I am so angry with you?" he asks, still not looking at you.

"That would be nice," you say in a snappy tone.

"You compromised so much," he says, "All because you don't fucking listen."

"I know what I did, König! How long will you punish me for it?!" you shout. He claps a hand over your mouth and just stares at you. You look into his eyes, showing no fear. He drops his hand slowly and then pulls up his sniper hood before crushing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

"Mm!" you whimper, tucking your hands under his hood into his hair. You both begin stumbling around until your back finally hits a shelf. The things on it shift precariously, and you both pause. After a few breaths, he kisses you again, pushing his knee between your legs.

"You...are a bad girl," he says, his voice rougher than usual. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I think that is why I like you so much." His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. "I want you."

"You can have me, König..."

"Any way I want?" he asks, pushing himself against you.

"What do you mean?"

"I...I want to be so deep inside you that you never forget. I want to leave you pleasantly sore so that every time you move, you think of me."

"König," you moan.

"Not here," he says before opening the door slowly and looking out. Suddenly, he's pulling you along again, but this time it's to somewhere familiar—his room.

His room was always so inviting to you. It always smelled nice and was tidy. You usually had time to look around a sit for a while, but this time there was none of that.

As soon as the door is closed, he is on you, pressing so close it's like he's attached to you.

He pulls his sniper hood off in a hurry and swallows your gasp with a desperate, angry kiss. "Are you ready?" he asks, but your brain is so muddled that you're not sure how to answer. Suddenly, his hand is down the front of your pants.

"Ah!" you squeal as he walks you toward the bed, hand staying firmly in your pants. He only takes it out to get you on the bed and practically tears your pants and panties off. His fingers are on and in you in no time as he presses his forehead to yours.

"I'm going to take you," he whispers, "...but I don't want to hurt you."

"Just...do what you want, König..."

He hums happily, sliding himself between your legs to taste you. You can't remember the last time he did this to you, but it is happening now, and it is perfect. He still takes his time getting you ready despite being rushed and frantic.

He doesn't bother taking the rest of his clothes off, but just him having his face revealed to you is enough to make this intimate.

You help him get his belt and buttons undone before he pushes you back down and lifts one leg to his shoulder. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle against your too-hot skin.

"When was I inside you last?" he asks. He pushes into you slowly, and you both cry out. "Fuck...I want to stay inside you forever." With one deep thrust, he's entirely inside of you. Your toes curl and he chuckles.

"More! Harder!" you beg

"The Königin gets what she wants," he growls before grabbing your other leg. He grips your hips tightly before thrusting into you fast and hard.

"Oh god! Oh fuck!" you cry. "Fuck me, König." You say it with the perfect accent, pushing him closer to the edge.

"How does it feel?" he asks.

"Amazing," you whimper.

He spreads your legs so he can lie between them now. You wrap them around his waist, and he continues fucking you into his mattress.

"On top," he grunts. "You...on top..." He grabs you and turns you with him, so you are riding him now. You try to keep the same pace. You can for a time, but when he sees you getting tired, he plants his feet flat on the mattress and begins thrusting up into you. Your eyes roll back and you throw your back.

"You look like a goddess," he murmurs. His thumb finds your clit, and he sits up to be closer to you. "Come for me." His calloused thumb rubs you firmly, and you cry out to him. "Yes, my love. Yes," he hisses.

Your fingers claw at his back and shoulders as he pumps into you. After a few more, he grunts loudly and groans your name. He rests his head on your breasts.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, moving his head just enough to look up into your eyes.

You shake your head. "No, König." You try to move off him, but he grabs you tighter.

"Nein...no...stay a little longer. Please?"

"Of course." You run your fingers through his hair, and he sighs.

A little longer turns into the rest of the night and when you wake up beside him, he's already smiling at you.

"Good morning," he says. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Look beautiful even as you sleep. Most people are...not so graceful when they sleep," he says, and you laugh.

"Do you want me to go so you can...shower and everything?" you ask. You both look down at your half-dressed bodies and laugh again.

"You don't have to leave. I was hoping we could do that together." He takes your hand in his and laces his fingers with yours.

"A shower sounds nice," you say, squeezing his hand.

[Masterlist]

[itsabouttimex2]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE YOUR AU!!!!! IT'S SO GOOD!!! op, your ideas are fantastic, you're really creative and an awesome writer!! 💫🌟

The monkiefam dynamic is so fun to read about — and pretty sad in MK's case, the poor guy.

Hopefully it's not too dark of a question, but how brutal does MK get during the primal moon? If he gets too violent with reader, does Wukong or Mac try stopping him or would they just let the natural pecking order happen?

I feel so bad for him, he's is gonna have a hell of a time acknowleding all the stuff he did during the primal moon week :/

Thank you so much, that means a lot to me! I’m glad people like my silly little things! (UPDATED to add a few extra characters!)

Thankfully for Y/N, MK isn’t too brutal- I don’t think they’ll come out with anything worse than a sprained wrist or ankle. The trauma will persist far beyond their injuries, however. When the last green moon of the week fades, he’s positively distraught.

Lining his hand curiously up to a slap mark on Y/N’s cheek to check it, tears brimming in his eyes when it lines up too perfectly to be a coincidence.

I don’t know whether he heartbrokenly distances himself or tries to make up for it with extreme smothering. The poor kid just wanted to spend what was supposed to “just another green moon” with one of his best friends.

And as for Macaque, though he’d really like to help Y/N… he just doesn’t have the ranking. MK is above him in the hierarchy, so he genuinely can’t do anything to upset or piss him off. This only that accomplishes is him getting smacked around right beside Y/N. All he can really do for them is apply herbal balm and bandages after the fact. If he hasn’t had a seal applied to his powers yet, Macaque might think about trying his shadow portals, but… it’s probably better not to risk having two angry monkeys on his tail, demanding to know where he’s hidden their beloved cub/rookie.

Sun Wukong is crazy delusional under the moon’s influence- to him, Y/N getting thrown and tosses all around is just “playfighting”, so he won’t interfere until after things get genuinely harmful. The moment he hears his little “cub” scream and start to cry, Old Sun is there in a second, bringing them into his arms and cooing softly. If they come to him begging for protection and use a “Bàba” to sweeten the deal, they’ll have his shelter for a number of hours, so it’s not impossible to get away from MK… just very hard.

And even after learning that something as severe as a broken wrist has occurred, Wukong coddles MK and forgives him on your behalf, writing the whole thing off as an accident. Not that you get any less smothering then him- you’re now stuck in bed with stiff bandages and surrounded by young mountain monkeys and sweet fruit. In a way, it saves you from any further rough play.

All three of them are dangerous in their own ways, of course. None are outright above “disciplining” you, with slaps or bites or shoves. There’s no (intentional) bone-shattering or flesh-tearing, but they make you afraid that there will be.

———————————————————————

After the Primal Moon ends, there’s a lot of patching-up to do afterwards. For example…

Pigsy has to come down from the constant self-drugging, taking more than a few hours to compose himself and make the rounds with his friends, calling them all up in short order. Once he’s gotten through everyone- Tang, Sandy, Mei, even her parents… then he spends a few minutes making sure he hasn’t gored any holes into his restaurant. Unlocks the windows and doors, but doesn’t flip the open sign.

He’s not up to deal with customers right now. All he wants is to check on his kids.

He’ll take MK and you out to eat today, he thinks. You’ve both earned it, after a week of isolation up in your shared room, under strict instructions to stay inside and come down for no one and nothing.

Red Son is always horribly humiliated when everything is said and done, a groaning and red-faced mess of shame. Another week of essentially devolving into a child, desperate for love and attention. Another, slow, grudging week of constant begging for skinship and words of praise. Needless to say, he’s pissed off and looking for an outlet, and beating on the numerous Bull Clones just doesn’t seem all too enticing… when he’s got a much squishier target who’ll actually squirm and yelp?

Sure, he’s not going to outright mangle you. No permanent burns. No shattered spine. And he’ll take pity on you eventually and stop with the torment. After a few months, he might even start to like you.

Let’s hope you get there mostly unscathed.

[differenteagletragedy]

Cove isn't the stepdad, he's the dad who stepped up: Part 6

The haters said it would never happen ... here is Part 6 to the series in which Baxter gets you pregnant in Step 3, leaves anyway and doesn't answer your calls and then you and Cove fall in love and raise baby together then get engaged and boom Baxter is wedding planner.

Here is a link to the last part, which has links to the previous part etc. When we last left off, Baxter ran away again after making friends with your son ...

When Baxter broke up with you five years ago, promising to never bother you again, you were heartbroken. Weeks later, when you realized you were pregnant, you were lost.

But tonight?

Tonight you were furious.

A couple of hours had passed since your eventful rehearsal dinner. In that time, you'd settled Dylan down, the poor boy desolate at having lost his newest friend when Baxter made yet another impromptu exit. You'd finished dinner, doing your best to avoid the concerned looks from your friends and family. Dylan was sent off to spend the night with your moms, and you and Cove had an unfortunately tense drive to your hotel.

The plan had always been for the two of you to have separate rooms, to build up the anticipation of seeing each other before the wedding, but now you were just thankful that your precious soon-to-be husband didn't have to see you pacing restlessly, stewing in rage over your ex-boyfriend.

You didn't want to be doing it. You hated the fact that you were wasting feelings on Baxter during what was supposed to be one of the happiest times of your life. You hated him for putting you in this position, and you hated yourself for giving into it. But you couldn't help it -- you couldn't shove these feelings back down, no matter how hard you tried.

"I'm sorry," Cove had told you softly as he drove the two of you over to the hotel. "I wish things were different, I wish there was something I could do."

"You don't have to be sorry, it's not your fault," you'd told him, tucking a strand of green hair behind his ear.

He'd caught your hand in his and pressed his lips against your palm. He gently rubbed your thigh when he realized you didn't feel like talking, and he gave you tiny, tender kisses on your lips and all along your face when he dropped you off at your room. He offered to ditch the extra room and stay with you.

You wanted nothing more than to take him up on the offer, to let Cove do what he always did and bring you peace. But it didn't feel right, and that made you even angrier.

You stopped pacing for a moment, and without thinking too hard about it, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your contacts until you found the number for your wedding planner.

There was one ring, then another, then it went to voicemail.

"Are you serious?" you texted Baxter.

You waited, phone in hand, and just when you thought you might throw it against the wall, it started ringing.

"Baxter?"'

"Yes, hello," he said, his voice small and sad. "My apologies for not answering your call originally, I --"

"Could you just not?" you asked.

"I ..." he began, then faltered. And that was your opportunity.

You cursed him for leaving the restaurant earlier, for not giving a proper goodbye to Dylan and leaving him upset. You called him on being just warm enough to make himself seem safe again and for hiding the fact that he was still that scared little boy who couldn't ever pick up a phone. Everything you ever wanted to tell him came out in that call, and by the time you were done, you heard strangled little sobs coming from Baxter, but you felt better. Cleansed, in a way.

After taking another moment to gather yourself as best you could, you said, "It's not that I hate the idea of you being in his life or him knowing who you are, and it's not that I think you're a bad person. But Baxter ... you need to do better. You can do better."

He laughed, no mirth whatsoever to it, and said, "I'm not sure that that's true, but it's nice of you to say."

"That's a shitty attitude."

"... So it is."

All that nervous energy, all the anger had left you at this point. You'd said what you need to say, and it was out of your hands. Baxter could get himself together or he could disappear again, but that was his call. You'd done everything you could.

When you told him that much, you hung up, but instead of getting ready for bed, you grabbed your room key and went down the hall to Cove's room.

He answered the door, already in his pajamas, and when he saw you, he smiled. An easy smile. Things with Cove had always been easy.

"Do you think maybe I could change my mind about us spending the night together?" you asked.

He laughed and pulled you into his room and into his arms. He held you tight, and you breathed him in.

"The plan is to spend every night for the rest of forever together," he said, placing a kiss on top of your head. "What's one more?"

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Write something about Marceline meeting up with Simon after the finale?

"You know I love you, right?" Marceline flat out asks him, because this girl has never gone around or over anything that she could plunge straight through. Simon always admired that about her even when this trait of hers caused him a fair few heart attacks.

Simon adjusts his glasses, clearing his suddenly dry throat. "Yes, I am aware."

They're at his house, with boxes of his things piled up around him. Bonnie, Finn, and Marcy all came over to help Simon move out of his old house into a new, more private arrangement. But Finn and Bonnie cleared out some time ago, when Marcy sat him down with a mug of his favorite tea. It was an ambush in everything bit name.

Simon supposes that he deserves it. He hasn't exactly... made time to speak with Marceline and happily allowed her to divert her focus away from him. Someone snitched on him, clearly.

"Hmmm..." Marcy squints at him, absently spinning the mug in front of her. The now dull grey drink sloshes lazily within. "When... When you had your big revelation about Betty, that musta messed you up pretty bad."

Simon stares at the woman that was essentially his daughter. Even as a little girl, she had always been prodigiously insightful and observant.

"This... This was different. Betty was my partner. I was supposed to check in with her, make sure we were on the same page. You, on the other hand-"

"Are you about to explain my feelings to me, Simon?" Marcy cuts in. "Or make an assumption about me based entirely on your perception of me?"

Oooh. Even if she didn't have fangs, Marceline could cut with the sharp edge of her tongue. A conflicting sense of pride and shame tightens his chest. He looks down at his mug of tea, taking a very long drink.

Marceline sighs. "I'm not five years old. I'm fully capable of making decisions - healthy decisions even."

"I know that!" Simon snaps back, thumping a fist on the table. "It's precisely because you're all grown up that I didn't want to say anything. Look at you, you're so happy! You don't need to bother with a sad old man like me."

Marceline gently grabs hold of his fist. "If you did tell me, what was the worst case scenario?"

"It doesn't matter, I'm doing better now. I'm going through therapy. I'm fine -"

"Please answer the question."

Simon stays stubbornly silent for a few second. Marceline squeezes his hand until her grip begins to hurt. He shoots her a petulant glare and she offers an innocent smile.

"I could make you sad. There. I said it."

"Well... I've been sad before. I got better."

Simon stares at this woman who he used to carry with only one arm. She's near his height, possibly taller. If he tried to carry her, she'd float to spare his ego. She grew up and he was there but not really and it's just another one of the Crown's costs.

"Simon." Marceline is hovering over the table now. "I lost you for a second there. What's that big brain of yours overly complicating now?"

Simon frowns at her. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Uhuh, listen. My partner is a certified genius, so I know for a fact that you geniuses tend to lack a lotta common sense."

"Have you told Bonnie this?"

"Verbatim. But this isn't about her, or me. This is about you."

Simon grits his teeth. "It's been 'about me' for long enough, hasn't it?" He shoves away from the table, gets onto his feet, and picks a random box to start piling stuff in. This will absolutely ruin Bonnie's meticulous organization, but that's just...

He sighs, steps back, looks at the label on the box before picking up Bonnie's abandoned clipboard to figure out the correct items for the box. In that whole time, Marceline doesn't speak. But he can feel her eyes on him like the sun through a magnifying glass. He sorts his stuff. She lets him.

Simon takes a deep breath. "I thought... It's bad enough that you spent all those thousand years watching over me. Then it turns out that even before I had the Crown, Betty was doing all of that. I just... I'm so useless."

"You're not-"

"Yes, yes, yes. But I... I need some time to work on myself, you know? I'm tired of being so..."

A hand settles on Simon's shoulders. He turns and jolts as he sees Marceline with a thin film of tears over her eyes. He immediately reaches over, pressing his palms against her face, thumbing the space beneath her eyes.

"Oh see, now I've made you cry."

Marceline shrugs. "It won't kill me."

"But that's the thing! You don't have to-"

"It's not that!" Marceline pulls away from him. "I don't have to do anything, you're right! But I want to stay with you!"

She blows out a short, ragged breath, running a hand through her hair. Simon slowly lowers his hands, crossing his arms and hunching over as if to protect his soft underbelly.

"I'd be rotten company."

Marceline fiercely shakes her head. "Not to me. Not if it's you."

Simon bites his lip. There's a tightness in his chest as if his heart was bloated from too much blood. He can't look away from her and yet he can't stand to stay seen.

"You don't want my help, fine. You've got professionals looking after you. And that's great. But please don't shut me out. I can't. Not again."

Marceline looks away for him. And this looks familiar even a thousand years later. The way she holds her head high, the way she clenches her jaw, the way she stubbornly refuses to acknowledge the tears trailing down her face - it's all the same.

Simon wraps both arms around her. She struggles for a second, trying to squirm away before she gives up, leaning into his hold.

"Okay," he murmurs into her shoulder.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Marceline coughs out a tiny giggle. "Are we just gonna keep saying okay to each other until the world ends or what?"

Simon readies a joke but swallows it at the last second. He lets her question hang in the air until it becomes heavy and leaden. She stiffens up, limbs locking and spine straightening.

"I think... I can do that."

"Yeah?" Marceline's voice is sooo small, half disbelief, half hope, and all pure, raw heart.

"Until the world ends... You and me. We're survivors. Remember?"

Marceline laughs, a frail, watery sound from the hollow of her throat. "Yeah. I remember."