#this might turn into an actual fic who knows

[darkjimxn]

Fool's Gold || JJK

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[hopelesslydevoted2paige]

GET HER BACK! || PAIGE BUECKERS

summary — after a week, nika invites you to go out with the team, giving paige an opportunity to make ammends

pairings: paige bueckers x fem cheerleader!reader

word count: 822

warnings: none

authors note: hii heres part 2 of casual!! i was gonna use ivy by frank ocean for this butttt i wanna save that for a more gut wrenching fic maybe series 🤓 ENJOY!!

part 1

It was a week since the events that had happened with Paige and you guys haven’t talked since.

Paige did try to reach out the next day, calling you multiple times but you refused to answer.

It was currently three in the afternoon. Your team had half of the court to use for practice while the other half belonged to the women’s basketball team.

“Alright, let’s run it one more time!” Your coach yelled as you all got into position.

The whole routine, you could feel Paige’s eyes on you. Her eyes scanned your body, watching your every move.

“Alright girls, let’s take five then get back into it right away!” Your coach clapped as everyone scattered towards the bleachers, trying to take advantage of the break.

You sat on the bleachers, trying to catch your breath before sipping your water.

“Hey girl!” Nika greeted as the whole team walked up to you. Including Paige.

You smiled warmly at her. “Hi! How’s practice?”

“You know coach, always up in our ass during the season.” You both chuckled. “You were great out there! Right Paige?” She nudged her shoulder forcefully.

“Yeah. You were amazing.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Thanks.”

KK cleared her throat. “We were wondering if you wanted to go out with us tonight?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know-“

“Come on!” Aaliyah butt in. “We miss you.” The rest of the team agreed behind her.

You sighed, giving in. “Alright. Just send me the details later.”

“I was also wondering if we could talk?” Paige whispered as her teammates cheered and conversed on their own, the two of you going unnoticed by the others.

“Paige, I don’t think-“ You were cut off by the sound of your coach’s whistle.

“Did I say five hours?! Wrap it up and let’s run it again!”

—

“Hey Y/N!” Nika greeted you, giving you a warm hug. You could tell she was already tipsy.

“Hi Nika.” You giggled, making eye contact with Paige as you returned the hug. You could see her jaw clench once her teammate started to rub your back.

You were going to have a lot of fun with this.

You sat next to Nika, grateful she got the imaginary memo as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Y/N!” Azzi spoke up. “You guys have nationals in a few weeks don’t you?”

You nod eagerly. “Coach has been pushing us a lot lately, we might have to be sharing the court a lot more for the next few weeks.”

“That’s fine with me!” Nika smirked. “I get to see you a lot more then.” She pulled you closer with her arm.

“Nika, you are so drunk.” You giggled, playing with her hair in hopes that Paige would notice the two of you.

The blonde wasn’t having it. She stood up and stomped towards the two of you.

“Y/N, can we talk?” She clenched her jaw.

“Uh-“ You faced Nika who motioned for you to go. “Yeah whatever.”

You stood up, following Paige to the exit, smirking to yourself.

Paige turned to face you. “Since when were you and Nika a thing?”

You scoffed. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

“No! I just-“ She groaned. “Nevermind. I wanted to apologize for everything I said that night. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. “Was that really what I meant to you? Just having fun-?”

“No!” She put her head in her hands. “This past week has been hell for me. I missed you so bad and I didn’t even realize the effect you had on me until all my friends pointed it out.”

“But-“

“Let me finish. You can say anything you want if your opinion stays the same.” She runs her fingers through her long blonde hair. “You actually cared about me, about my feelings. You were there for me when no one else was! You made me laugh and feel like I was actually worth something. And all I did, was make you feel like you were taken advantage of, and I am so fucking sorry. There’s no one else for me Y/N. Just you.”

You were in shock. You couldn’t process the words that just came out of her mouth. “Paige, I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” She took a step back. “You can take all the time you need. I’ll still be here waiting-“

You cut her off by wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her with all your emotions.

You could feel her grin as she kissed you back, pulling you closer as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Be my girlfriend?” She grinned.”

“I gotta think about it.” You teased, furrowing your brows to make it look like you were thinking.

Paige rolled her eyes. “What a tease.”

“Should we go back inside?” You asked once you both pulled away.

“We can go to my dorm. I think I might kill Nika if she puts her hands on you one more time.”

“You were jealous!”

“No I wasn’t!”

[jasmineoolongtea]

hii!! i recently just started following you and i don’t wanna overload you with anything so i stress that i urge you to take your time and if you feel like you need to tweak anything then you can since i noticed you barely opened requests :)) i was just wondering if you could write something ( whether it be headcanons or a fic ) about gojo having a jujutsu sorcerer for a girlfriend / partner and his students don’t know so they’re all shocked when they just see this badass person next to gojo and he just casually introduces them as his partner lol. just a thought!! make sure to take care of yourself 💕

a/n: thank you smmmm for the kind words <333 yes omg i love this idea and honestly, i imagine gojo pretending to be chill on the outside but on the inside he's fangirling the same way his students are over his partner cause he's just so whipped and down bad for them jdjsndnsbd

"Shhhh! Quiet down, you two or you're gonna get us all caught." Nobara hisses through her teeth at Megumi and Yuji, trying her best to be quiet. It was quite a comical sight actually, the three students were all stacked on top of each other as they all attempted to crane their necks into the doorway as discretely as they possibly could.

"I still don't understand why we can't just ask like normal people." Megumi sighs, clearly exasperated at his friend's antics.

"You're such a buzzkill, Fushiguro." Nobara scolds him over her shoulder. It was like he didn't even understand the gravity of this situation.

This wasn't a situation where they could just waltz in and chat it up like regular unless they were intent on embarrassing themselves. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet the current rising star of the jujutsu world: the newly minted special-grade sorcerer L/N Y/N who was famed for being highly elusive, never being in one place for too long to be tied down to somewhere.

Rumours and stories were constantly swirling about you ranging from the more serious ones about your incredible feats of jujutsu and how you managed to exorcise a grade 1 curse for one of your very first missions without breaking a single sweat to more silly ones like that you only wash your face with the purest spring water that was imported from the Swiss Alps and that allegedly you and Gojo Satoru were seeing each other. She thought the last one was particularly dumb as she was sure that a person of your calibre would have better taste than to date their man-child of a teacher, even if he was the strongest. Whatever it was, Nobara was not going to let those two ruin her chances of possibly being able to talk with you face to face.

Above her, Yuji groans out in pain as he feels an elbow jam into his stomach.

"Hey! That hurts!" Yuji complains loudly, his grip tightening around the wooden door frame.

"Can't you be in pain more quietly?" Nobara asks and with that, the two of them were sent into a bickering spat as they traded harsh whispers and snappy comments. However, this would prove to be their end as Megumi eventually loses his balance from all of the commotion above him and tumbles onto the floor with the other two following suit as they land in what can only be described as a failed human pretzel.

Unfortunately, their crash was not as quiet as Nobara was hoping for as one of the office's inhabitants stood up from his seat, seemingly made aware of their presence. "Oh? It seems like we have some eavesdroppers in our midst."

You hum to yourself, your back still facing the doorway as you turn to your white-haired companion. "Is that true?"

"Yes, I think I might know who they are as well. If only they would be so brave enough to reveal themselves." Gojo sighs dramatically, even bringing a hand to his chest as if to feign sympathy. You can't help but giggle softly at his behaviour.

The three of them take that as their cue to stand up, dusting themselves off as they slowly make their way into the office in a single file line. When Nobara sees you, she can't even let herself fully fangirl because the amount of embarrassment she has at getting caught trying to eavesdrop is far outweighing it right now.

Gojo makes his way towards his students as they stand lined up, his hands rubbing together and a devious grin on his face as he puts on his best menacing voice. "Now now now, what do we have here?"

"Satoru, take it easy on them. I'm sure they meant no harm by it." You place a hand on his shoulder as you stroll up to his side. His arms immediately fall to his side as he melts under your touch.

An adorable pout graces his features, his bottom lip jutted out in an attempt to put on his best puppy dog look as he whines at you, "Awww, but you're ruining my funnn. I don't get that many opportunities to do this."

"Sensei, they know you by your first name?" Yuji questions, his head tilted slightly to the side as he tries to figure out what relationship you two could possibly have.

A sly snicker is heard from Gojo as he quirks his eyebrows towards you. "They know me in a lot more ways than just that" he quips back, his tone bordering on being an outright innuendo.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him, clearly used to his playful nature by this point, and give him a light shove on the shoulder to which he pretends to exaggeratedly nurse in pain.

"Sorry for not introducing myself properly, my name is L/N Y/N and I'm a special-grade sorcerer here on a visit to Tokyo Jujustu High." You smile warmly at your boyfriend's students, your hands clasped in front of you as you greet them.

Nobara could feel her breath hitch in her throat as a million thoughts ran through her mind. Oh my god, you, her idol, were actually right in front of her and were acknowledging her. She swears she could die happy right this instance but that would mean that she wouldn't get to take full advantage of the chance to talk to you fully. With that, she snaps out of her star-struck daze and politely inquires, "If you don't mind me asking L/N-san, what are you here for?"

"Oh, they're here to visit yours truly, me!" Gojo chimes in, a megawatt grin on his face with a sense of pride radiating off of him as he motions to himself.

A tsk sound escapes Nobara, clearly distrustful of her teacher's statement. "Yeah right, they have way more important things to be doing than that."

"But it's true though! My lovely partner is here to pay a surprise visit to me!"

"There's no way that that's true. You and them?" As if to punctuate her point, she points at you and Gojo standing side by side and firmly shakes her head. "Nuh uh. They wouldn't date the likes of you."

A soft smack is heard as Gojo theatrically clutches his chest, stumbling back from where he stands to drape himself over you. "It wounds me to hear you say that Kugisaki." He claims, his expression twisted into one of faux pain. When he turns to face you, his demeanour suddenly switches as he leans in towards your ear, a roughish smile on his face with a faintly seductive lilt to his voice. "Maybe we should kiss to prove that it's true."

"Don't be crude, Satoru, they're your students and they're right in front of us." You try to brush him off of you in an attempt to spare his students from becoming witnesses to their teacher's love for PDA but he doesn't let go of his grip, instead choosing to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck as if trying to coax you to stay with him in his embrace. Like always, you relent to his touch with your fingers carding through his snowy locks, a soft sigh of approval leaving his lips.

There's a beat of silence as Nobara and Yuji try to process what they've just learned and the fact that they've just seen a visual confirmation of it before that peace is shattered and they erupt into a thousand questions. You field all of their burning questions ranging from ones about you to about your relationship with Gojo with grace, amused and endeared by their excitement and insatiable curiosity. Secretly, it warms your heart deeply that Gojo and his students are so comfortable with each other and that he can be himself around them without the pressure of the greater Jujutsu world on his back.

You turn to look at the clock and sigh at how fast time has gone by. "Alright, I'll see you at home Satoru and Megumi." You comment, packing up your belongings as you get ready to leave to attend to some business. Gojo leans down to your height as you place a lingering kiss against his cheek and wave him and his students goodbye.

Unblinking, Yuji and Nobara turn to each other and then to Megumi before they exclaim simultaneously. "You all live together!?"

Oh boy, Megumi knows he's going to be in for an earful with that.

[lustlovehart]

Hi there, i saw ur blade fics & omg 😳 So i came here to send a req for another blade content with gn reader. No yandere blade, but kinda dark (related to ur latest fic of him & i hope u r ok with my req, feel free to decline it).

So, ur latest fic said the reader leaves all of the 'sinning' to him. What if the reader wants to kill someone cz that person is somehow related to their past (in terrible terms with them & it haunts the reader like how it haunts blade). But the reader remembers to leave the 'sinning' to him, so they ask blade to do it (even though they apologize afterwards cz they feel like burdening him).

I hope my req is all safe, im sry if it's complicated 😭 But thx a lot!

Hell Is A Place Without You

A/n: Ahhh!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Blade writings ^^, I actually already was planning on making a part 2 for it so this req was perfect | pt.2 of I’ll Suffer Your Sin

Summary: Your mind is dirtied with unwanted memories, who knew that nightmare would come back to haunt you? Only you decide who ends your dream. [Date with Blade goes horribly wrong]

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Being watched while you sleep, Awkward Bladie trying to court you, Minor Character Death, horrifically written fight scene

It’s impossible to truly escape your past, the traces and scars it left behind on you will always remain on your body, no matter how hard you scrub it off. Even in your own dreams, you aren’t free of such a hell. The way that they had betrayed you is etched so deep into your skin tearing your flesh to reach its core will never be enough to absolve you from the memory. The past you remember is buried in blood, their laughter ringing in your ears as you watched them destroy everything you had, yourself as well.

You dream of being free, alas, you'll be chained by it as long as they have you.

“Is something wrong?” The way your heart pumps as gasps of air rush in and out of your lungs doesn’t fail to go unnoticed by the man next to you. He’s bare, the only thing covering his torso being the bandages wrapped around his waist. The way the light from the moon gazing through the window highlights his prettiest features, his muscular stature, his face, and even the scars that adorn his skin are beautiful.

You're sure you would've liked the sight more had you been in a regular state of mind. The events from yesterday still continue to stir you up, and the nightmare only made it worse.

"I-It's nothing just a… Wait, have you slept at all Blade…?"

…

"No, I haven't"

"Why? I know you have sleeping problems but you should try."

" I was making sure you're okay." For a moment his eyes lock onto your wrapped hand, a cruel reminder of what he had done yesterday, 

…

"Were you… Watching me sleep…?" he blinks a few times at you before turning back towards the window. Maybe that cold chill up your spine was caused by him instead of your nightmare.

“If I said no you wouldn’t be convinced.” He’s right, even if he did you would most definitely tell he was lying. Well to be fair, he never lies to you, so it wouldn’t be hard to tell in the first place. Now that you think about it, there are some moments in which you wish he would’ve created a fake truth, alas, him and his “that will change nothing” mindset won’t fulfill that wish.

“You’re right, I probably wouldn’t.” You lift yourself from the bed, the sun still hasn’t risen, in fact, it’s still evening, but knowing you have a serial sleepwatcher in the room with you, it might just be better to stay up.

His eyes follow your groggy form slowly putting your work outfit on, his gaze not at all straying. It’s only when you look straight at him that he finally decides to not stare.

He breaks the silence while you’re trying to put on your shoes, his words making you pause and look back up at him for a moment, a null feeling hidden in your chest makes you consider telling him, but in the end, you choke it down and pay no mind to his words, going back to putting your footwear on.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I said it was nothing—“ You don’t feel like announcing your personal problems as of the moment. When you finish, your body stands back up to its regular height, a small scream escaping your lungs when you turn around and find your coworker standing too close for comfort behind you. His stone-cold face is only inches apart from your own, each breath that escapes him being felt on your skin.

Despite how intimidating the situation is from an outsider's perspective, this proximity of closeness is usual between the two of you, so it doesn’t bother you as much as it should, but that doesn’t stop the chill in your body from happening.

“I don’t lie to you, I never would. Why don’t you hold the same sentiment?” His voice is soft, it’s a dead giveaway of his feelings for you, at least, you think it is, he’s not exactly the type to directly say “I love you”, so you have to gauge his current emotions through his body language and actions. It’s not a problem for you, that doesn’t mean it’s easy though.

“But I’m… I’m not lying.”

“Yes. You are. You’re not very good at it.” Sometimes you wish the two of you didn’t work as well as you do, if that was the case, maybe he wouldn’t be able to see through you so easily.

…

“You’re right I’m lying. But… I don’t know why you care so much… It has nothing to do with you.” Your sentence starts soft before branching out into a firmer tone. This change in attitude made his breath, though barely audibly, hitch in his throat. You don’t speak any more words, only letting his sight linger on you a little longer. His eyes close when he finally retracts himself from your body.

The breath you had held in your esophagus was finally sighed out from the sudden free space. When you look up again, you see the man walk towards the door, the handle clicking as he unlocks and turns it open.

Is he gonna leave…? No is he… Brooding…? The door swings open quickly, his body maneuvering so he’s on the side. He doesn’t look at you, but with the way he’s holding the door, you assume he’s holding it open for you.

“Let’s go.”

“Wha? It’s practically midnight… Where would we go? Nothing's open, and the script is meant to start in a couple of hours—“

“Do we need to have something to do?”

“Well, usually, yeah.”

“Then we’ll walk.” His eyes still don’t make contact with yours, but you can feel the very feint feeling of him wanting you to agree. As you walk forward your body can’t help but hesitate for a moment. The Stellaron hunter is quickly taken by surprise when he feels your previously injured hand grab onto his wrist and drag him along behind you.

———

The planet you both are currently residing within is a metropolis filled with millions of stores. Maybe if you hadn’t dreamed in your sleep you could’ve gone shopping, too bad they’re all closed.

“You could always go when we’re done with the script.” His deep voice breaks your train of thought as you look down at the tiny lights. You don’t look at him but a quiet “mm” is all he needs to hear to know you heard him.

“By the time we’re done, the city will be in shambles, I don’t think that’ll work.” It’s sad really, looking down at the little glowing wisps reminds you that there are people who live here, not just people, animals, and robots, all with their own lives.

“I didn’t say you had to buy anything.” Sometimes though, not all those lives are worthy of happiness.

“Are you implying we should steal during the aftermath?” You don’t hear the silent steps walking towards the two of you, too absorbed in your conversation with the one your coworkers describe as your “bodyguard”.

“I could do it for you.” They’re close, close enough to hear the words you speak to the man.

“Would you really? I thought you were the type to not stray from the script.” You finally turn around to face him, despite the solemn mood, a slight smile can be seen from your lips a teasing demeanor exuding from your mask. Your body leans on the railing, Blade's eyes occasionally shifting to where you stand, you take it he’s worried you’ll fall.

“I am. I’m following it. Elio says I’m to “make [Name] enjoy the planet”.”

“Oh? So you’re only doing it cause you have to?” Your body lifts from where you once leaned, his own staying unmoved as you advance toward him.

“No, I would’ve done it either way.” Your smile widens a little more, his words are simple but it’s nice to know he’d do something like that for you unprompted. 

The way your face exudes such a warm expression doesn’t go unnoticed, going from a formerly teasing to a more heartfelt look, making his mouth almost quirk up. Almost. As he stares, his mind is taking at least 5 mental pictures to not forget the look on your face.

Perhaps he’ll use it in the future whenever his mara needs quenching. Who’s he kidding, it’s not perhaps, it’s for certain that he’ll use it.

“Would you buy-- or rather, steal me a drink 'cause you want to?“ your finger lifts causing the man's attention to shift, looking at the vending machine in the far distance filled with different juices and beverages. He can feel you gently open his palm, placing credits in his hand. He doesn’t say words but nods his head, turning to walk towards the machine. 

A machine that was quite the stretch away from you.  

Your head turns to look at the pretty lights at the city below, unsuspecting of the person hidden behind you. 

A crunch sounds out through the air, your body immediately spinning to see the figure hurling towards you, the glint of steel highlighting the weapon in their hand. 

Clash of Blades continue to spiral out in the space until you’ve successfully pinned them to the railing, their body leaned over the fence, a small edge laid on their throat. Right there, in your hands, is the chance to leave your history behind in the dust. But, your hand can’t help but tremble. Your knees are weak too, despite it, your hand continues to press deeper, blood drawing from the wound. 

“Take me, as much as you need. All of it if you have to.“

“is that it?“ a sadistic laugh escaped from the depths of their throat. The cold feeling of a sharp point is directed in your stomach. “I’m fine with you coming back if that’s what you want-“ 

“... I don’t need it. So have it.“

The figure is shoved to the side, their head making contact with the floor, the weapon in your hand unmoving from its place as you look down to where their body lies. They’re still alive, the harsh breathing of their crumpled form on the floor is enough to tell you. A hand intertwines with your own, the familiar touch reminding you of the events from yesterday. 

Blade's hand is warm as he holds your fingers in his, the reds in his eyes looking down at you. 

“...“ 

For a moment, your eyes make contact, keeping a steady connection. The light from the city accentuates his looks, the expression on his face pensive, yet still pretty at the same time. 

“I’ll leave the… ‘sinning’, to you then.“

Slowly, your grip on the handle loosens, the only thing keeping your hold on the weapon being Blade's hands clinging to yours. 

“Blade… Please–“ Your head is turned down, the gentle tilt of his hand making you look at the floor. The knife is finally released from your possession, your eyes not looking up to meet him at the trade. From the edge of your vision, you can see Blade shrug off his outerwear, hanging the piece of clothing on your head, further sheltering you from the gruesome sight soon to come. 

The smell of Citrus and Herbal tea invades your nostrils, both comforting and horrifying. But, the scent is enough to distract you from the harsh sound of a knife swinging and the wheezing that accompanies it. A few quick jabs and the sound of breathing slowly dissipates. 

Even then, Blade's attack on the body does not stop, he keeps going until he can discern the sound of heavy breathing being yours and not his own, finally breaking him out of his trance and allowing him to turn back to you. 

Your hands slowly begin to lift the jacket from your person before swift footsteps halt your actions, quickly tugging the fabric back down. 

“Not yet.” 

He’s quick to take you by the waist, the pungency of iron breaching the protective layer of cloth between you and him. It isn’t until minutes pass does he delicately lifts the jacket off your head and rests it on your shoulders. 

The sight, it’s one you’ve seen dozens of times on him, deep scarlet liquid splattered and smeared on his body, hollow eyes, sullied clothes with fresh blood on his soft hair. 

You continue clinging onto his jacket. Looking at him, but not at him. The barrier serving as a blockade for the beast in front of you. 

Neither of you speak, only listening to the sounds of the sleeping city as you indulge in one another. His mouth leans towards his bloodied glove, the teeth behind his lips revealing themself and serving as a removal for the piece of fabric. 

He reaches for your hand, the scars on his skin evident as you allow him to place your palm on your chest. 

“You’re alive [Name].” He’s right, the beating in your chest is proof of that fact. But so what? “You’re alive in the same way that I’m dead.” What? The look he holds in his eyes is empty, not giving you any telltale sign of what he means. 

“But even then, what would the living know about the words of the dead.” A quote from Kafka that she had restated is all you can remember in your mind. His grip on your hand doesn’t relent for a moment, only pointing his head in the direction of the city, signaling you to turn around and see. 

The once-slumbering city has now awoken. A beautiful sight that will eventually fall despite the morning's hope. 

A ding sounds from Blade's phone. 

Kafka 🕸️: Are you ready dears? 

---

This took way longer to finish than I wanted it to

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hey! First, thank you for running this blog; it's a treasure trove of great advice. Second, may I ask some?

Lately, I've been having a hard time writing due to psyching myself out. I keep thinking about past fics I've written that turned out great with a lot of praise for my style, and I'm constantly feeling that anything new I write won't be as good and live up to the standards my past fics have set. I know that a first draft is allowed to be messy and imperfect, but I keep feeling that if I let myself do that and not aim for perfection the first time, I'm being lazy or lowering my standards. I want to just cut loose and write, but I'm having a hard time getting past this mental block. Any suggestions?

You've got a lot of very complicated feelings going on, anon, and I just want to give you a hug 💗 Let's see if we can break this down a bit, okay?

You've written well-received fics in the past and you're worried that your new fics won't be well-received. Where is this worry coming from? What's at the root of it? If your next fic doesn't receive the same praise that your previous ones received, how will that impact you?

I think it's always important to keep in mind that a lack of praise is not the same thing as the presence of disapproval. Just because no one says you did a good job, that doesn't mean you did a bad job. You say that your past fics turned out great. If you hadn't received the praise that you got, would you think they had turned out poorly?

What standard have you set with your past fics? If your standard is related to the amount of comments and kudos you received, you're setting yourself up for failure. I've written before about how the stats on your fic are largely out of your control and that if you focus on them too much you might need to find a way to a healthier relationship with them.

Who else is aware of this standard and is measuring you against it? Readers tend to focus more on tags and summaries than on specific authors when they're looking for something to read. Readers who have subscribed to you won't be looking at the numbers on your fic. They'll be reading the chapters and enjoying your words. Other authors might feel competitive with you, but that's their own issue to handle and more about their own mindset than about your writing.

Perfection is not just an unrealistic goal, it's an impossible one. Being imperfect doesn't mean that you're lazy, it means that you're human.

There will always be a better phrase, a more interesting metaphor, a more apt verb or adjective, a juicier trope. You'll never be able to make a 100% accurate transfer of the idea in your head to the words on your page - not just because you're interpreting your own thoughts but because your readers will be interpreting your words after you get them down on paper.

What is your actual goal when you're writing? Why are you doing it? What's the driving need you're satisfying by writing a story down? Right now, you're so caught up in how people are going to react to your writing that you can't actually write anything at all. Reconnect with yourself and the reasons why you tell stories. Why do you love it, and why would you be unhappy if you didn't do it anymore?

[aohisworld]

SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR YOU. | THE SERIES!

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ when things are a little too tame in Aohi’s world, she conspires to dote on her seven boyfriends. (A series!)

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ poly!ot7 x addedmember!oc , contains. cringe writing, fluff, like CAVITY SWEET fluff, some parts (excluding ri-ki) might be a LITTLE suggestive , keep in mind that this series takes place in the present, which puts Aohi at 20 years of age!

| : ̗̀➛ MINTIE’s NOTES: sorry about the no updates to either big fics guys TT school’s ending and I have to pass the diplomas before I actually get to graduate (grad ceremony was literally for show) so have this silly little series that I plan to do!

| : ̗̀➛ WARNING! How I write ENHYPEN is not meant to portray the idols irl, this is my au and I write this for fun.

✧. ┊ “Noo-noo-ah!” Aohi softly called, her arms opening for the boy who was approaching her bed with a pep in his step. “Tokki-yah!” Sunoo replied back, gently kissing her nose as the two smiled and giggles.

“What’s up, oppa?” Aohi asked, gently rubbing her hand up and down on his back. Usually, Sunoo loved to come into Aohi’s room and lay on top of her, the boys actually shared that habit together, coming in her separate room to bother her whenever they wanted.

“Nothing, what’re you doing?..” Sunoo’s muffled voice from him tucking his head into Aohi’s neck spoke, peeking from whatever line of sight he could achieve from the intimate cuddle.

“I’m just watching whatever, you want to watch with me?” She asks, looking down slightly to try and establish eye contact with the puffy-cheeked fox.

“No, just came to check in on you.” Sunoo hummed, he sits up from his spot and grabs hold of Aohi’s own cheeks, dipping down for a sloppy kiss as her muffled giggles started to resonate within the room.

“Owp-pwa!” A muffled attempt was heard, Sunoo tried his best not to laugh, pulling away with a dramatic ‘smooch!’ Sound coming from his own lips.

Aohi’s laughs became clearer as Sunoo pulled away, and he could feel a gentle tug at his heart the way Aohi’s big smile appears in his line of sight.

“Come out for dinner soon, Jay-hyung said you haven’t eaten lunch yet.” Sunoo reminds her, getting off Aohi’s bed and walking to the door. He turns to look at Aohi one more time, making sure he’s heard.

“Eung! I’ll come soon, oppa!” Aohi spoke, turning in her bed as she wiped her cheek of any saliva that didn’t dry out.

Not that it didn’t disgust her that the boys leave sloppy kisses but, Aohi just thinks that’s how intimacy goes, kind of like how cats rub up on anything and everything to mark their territory.

Actually, Aohi has no idea why she’s comparing those two things with each other.

She continued to watch her YouTube videos a little longer, having a deep interest in hour-long documentaries that spoke about anything of the horror genre.

Aohi wasn’t a big fan of horror though, but there’s something funny about having an excuse to sleep in one of boys’ rooms, and usually Jay or Heeseung can’t bother to say no to her.

“Aohi-yah! Dinner’s ready!” Sunghoon’s voice called for her, and she sighs knowing she actually has to go this time. “Coming!” Aohi sits up from her bed and places her feet into bat slippers gifted to her by Jake.

Aohi wiggles her feet for a little bit, smiling at the fluffy feeling on her feet. She leaves her room with a hop in her step, walking into the open-plan kitchen with a sleepy smile.

“What’s for dinner, oppa?” Aohi looked over Jay’s shoulder, looking into the pot of kimchi-jjigae he made. “I felt a little lazy today, I hope you don’t mind, batsy.” Jay turned to her, and he kissed Aohi’s temple.

“Eung~” Aohi hummed understandingly, before walking off to go sit with her other boyfriends. “Hi baby, did you have a good nap earlier?” Heeseung pulled his gaze away from his phone, looking up at Aohi with his gentle Bambi gaze.

“Mhm! Speaking of which, can I sleep with one of you guys tonight?” She sat in her seat, and her legs made quick work of sitting criss cross on the seat.

“I don’t get why you do that, it’s so weird.” Sunoo mumbled jokingly beside her, obviously mentioning her instinct to sit weirdly on her chair.

“It’s a habit! Don’t you know my cousins in the Philippines do it all the time!” Aohi scrunched her nose back at Sunoo, who couldn’t help but smile at her adorable expression.

“You can sleep with me, bunny.” Sunghoon offered, placing his hand on her head affectionately, Aohi happily cherishing his attention.

“Like hell! You’ve been snuggling with her more than enough! She’s with me tonight!” Ri-ki huffed, pulling Aohi to his side.

Aohi felt her heart warm a little that her boys were so wanting to spend time with her, even if it’s just for the night. “Why don’t you guys let her decide? She’s the one who wants to sleep somewhere else for the night.” Jungwon hummed, his gaze on his phone.

“Wonnie, do you want to, tonight?” Aohi asked, looking towards him, in which he glanced up in response, and she could easily tell the way his eyes lit up that there was no way he was denying her offer.

“Yeah!” The other boys at the table groaned and complained, and Jungwon could only smile smugly. Soon enough the boys stopped messing around, Aohi sensing Jay’s presence with the smell of kimchi-jjigae filling her nostrils.

“Wah! It smells delicious, oppa.” Aohi’s eyes sparkled at the sight of Jay’s cooking, channeling her inner foodie as she was getting ready to dig in.

“Did I make you wait too long, batsy?” — “no, but the other people at the table waited too long.”

Sunoo answered smartly, looking up at Jay with a look that pulled a sheepish grin from the cook. Sunoo sat up on his seat as Jay placed the pot onto the coaster, the steam letting out a spicy aroma in the room.

“I’m going to eat well..” Aohi made a gesture before picking up her chopsticks, waiting for Heeseung to get his first bite, and then Jay.. and then Jake, and you get the rest.

Aohi took her bite soon after everyone else had, smiling as she ate, loving the domesticity of dinner tonight. She really felt like doting on her boyfriends for being so doting on her as well.

Like, maybe she should return the kindness! She looked around her for a little bit more before continuing to eat her meal silently, but happily. Aohi had a plan…

It was operation: dote on the en- boys!

OBJECTIVE #1: YANG JUNGWON!

"what're you doing here, little bunny? Not up to some trouble, I hope."

mission in progress! [possible completion: June 19th].

⋆✴︎��｡⋆ ┊Jungwon has been a lot busier promoting their new album, memorabilia. Aohi can't remember the last time she's got the time to even look at her boyfriend! Not that the whole group wasn't promoting or anything... but she really misses one of her two feline boyfriends!

This calls for a little Aohi TLC, which is exactly what she's planning to do during a surprise visit before an interview!

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ yang jungwon x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, a tiny bit of suggestive themes (honestly it's just kissing).

OBJECTIVE #2: LEE HEESEUNG!

"I'm just playing for another hour! You can wait, right, batsy?"

mission in progress! [possible completion: June 29th].

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ┊ It's been a little too quiet at the apartment for Aohi's liking, understandably the boys might be recharging from doing so many promotions, but Aohi's just a girl! She needs her daily attention like her naps, and she's going to get them!

Her next victim? Lee Heeseung, Aohi knows nobody can tear the boy away from his beloved game, League of Legends. Aohi thinks she should still try though! No harm in trying!

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ lee heeseung x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, a tiny bit of suggestive themes, a lot of gaming vocabulary.

OBJECTIVE #3: PARK JJONGSEONG!

“You know you're the only one I'm willing to spoil, right?”

mission in progress! [possible completion: July 9th].

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ┊ Aohi's taken a small break on doting on her boyfriends, her current schedule was taking her out and Jay seems to be able to tell, so.. instead of Aohi carrying out her doting missions, Jay beats her to it by taking her out for a little spoiling.

Don't fear though, it's not a mission if Aohi doesn't dote on him back! Luckily, she knows just the thing that'll do the trick!

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ park jjonseong (jay) x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, a lot of spoiling, erm... idk my draft doesn't really have anything to make note of LOL.

OBJECTIVE #4: SIM JAEYUN!

"I wouldn't let anyone else take care of Layla, batsy.. you're her mama, and I sure as hell won't let you go!"

mission in progress! [possible completion: July 19th].

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ┊ There's nothing better than a boyfriend and his cute as heck dog, named Layla! Ever since Aohi started to date Jake, she's been referred as Layla's mama, and the dog seems to agree, and what kind of mom would she be if she didn't spoil Layla and her dad?

A little hike on her's and Jake's favourite trail to relax and get some exercise in, while Layla gets to spend the whole day with her parents!

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ sim jaeyun (jake) x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, a lot of cringe name calling?? Idk I drafted a really dorky Jake.. Layla blocking Jake from Aohi LOL.

OBJECTIVE #5: PARK SUNGHOON!

"You sure do slip a lot.. is it because you're you falling for me, batsy? Ow! It was a joke, babe!"

mission in progress! [possible completion: July 29th].

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ┊ The summer heat was too much for the en- group to handle! With the other boys and Xiulin going out for cold treats, Aohi and Sunghoon opt for the ice skating rink. Aohi uses this to her advantage by using this time alone with her boyfriend to dote on him!

Only... how can she dote on him when he keeps cracking the most lamest jokes?! Aohi thinks she's going to break from one more dad joke!

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ park sunghoon x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, lame dad jokes, as in, googled dad jokes, a little bit of suggestive themes at the end. skating vocabulary.

OBJECTIVE #6: KIM SUNOO!

"You always dote on me, tokki.. please let me return the favour, pretty girl."

mission in progress! [possible completion: August 9th].

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ┊ Kim Sunoo, Aohi's favourite to dote on. Well, he knows that for sure, considering he manages to catches Aohi before she could even plan on a way to dote on him! Sunoo wants to give back all of the love she's given him, knowing that she must be tired on loving seven, such rowdy boys.

Sunoo plans his own little mission when he and Aohi are chosen as ambassadors for Vivienne Westwood, and brought to Milan for a photoshoot.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ kim sunoo x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, modelling mentions, sunoo is not an actual ambassador for viv westwood!! A little bit of suggestive themes.

OBJECTIVE #7: NISHIMURA RI-KI!

"Did you plan this whole trip back home just to spend time with me? Aren't you adorable, batsy."

mission in progress! [possible completion: August 19th].

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ┊ Aohi was feeling a little homesick, and what's a better way to spend a little home vacation if not with her boyfriend, who probably misses Japan as much as she does? Aohi makes the smartest idea to dote on Ri-ki during their trip, equipped with her credit card and an extra piece of luggage for any souvenirs to take home.

Ri-ki acts oblivious to her plans though, after living with Aohi for so long, he's made the conclusion that an excited Aohi cannot keep anything to herself for the life of her. Therefore, Ri-ki has plans to reverse the roles on Aohi, doting on her instead.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ nishimura ri-ki x addedmember!oc , contains. mentions of poly!ot7 x oc, cringe writing, fluff, a little travel trip to Japan, tiny bit self-indulgent because they're going through my travel plans LMAO.

[ariicandy]

Take Us to The Stars Tonight

Summary — He loves recalling the memory of when he confessed his love to you, a special place, a special moment, a special memory he will never forget.

Notes — been a while since I have wrote! It’s been 2 and a half months.. Hopes it’s decent enough to be enjoyable, haven’t wrote for aventurine properly before! Wanted to add boothill originally but I needed to get this fic out so will do another version w/ boothill!!

Warning(s) — might be ooc aventurine as stated above, haven’t really done penacony story so he probably doesn’t go to these areas

Word count — 1,140 words

It was a strange thing that Aventurine has been having feelings whenever he encounters you. He feels the need to shower you with exquisite treasures even more if this weird tingly that he is feeling is trying to tell him. It is really strange. He’s been feeling this weird aching feeling within him he cannot describe or even seem to understand what it is for a while now. It started after a while of meeting you, first seeing you while he was roaming in golden hour. Where it only seemed to be a brief conversation, now turned to an everyday routine to see each other and talk about your day with each other. It’s weird how Aventurine was yearning for you more and more now without even realizing himself. He would send more messages to you, trying to engage with you more on whatever there is to talk about or even encouraging you to continue your talk of your day.

So to suddenly realize this tingly feeling that’s always making him feel weird is because he is in love with you. It makes him stop in his tracks on whatever he might be doing to suddenly realize that his feelings towards you are of love, not just the feeling of pampering you much more. But, how can he tell you that he loves you? Do you share the same mutual feelings? Is he overthinking this and this feeling is only just to pamper you more? It’s stressing him out and knowing there is only one way to find out..

To say Aventurine was nervous was an understatement. He was overthinking everything you guys had, fidgeting with his left hand a lot more while waiting for you to come and meet with him at Aideen Park. Maybe he should have picked a better location where it’s mainly just the two of you alone without being heard. It’s not like he can just change location last minute when you are on your way from the message you sent him a few minutes ago. Now he is fiddling with the tiny shopping bag he bought a bracelet with your name on it for you. Maybe he should have gotten something more that could make up this nervous situation, Aventurine only shakes him head and sighs ready to gamble with fate of his feelings for you.

“Ah I found you Aventurine!” The sound of your voice made aventurine turn to you with his usual smirk. “Ah, look who finally made it. I got this gift for you while I was on my way over here to the park.” Which wasn’t a completely lie, to say. Aventurine did look a various luxury jewelry stores that he will think deserve to feel your touch and be the symbol of him being yours, if you do accept it of course. A small gasp was lead out by you seeing him hold the small bag knowing it was worth a lot, he always bought you luxury goods when you try your best to tell him he doesn’t need to shower you with such expensive things. He always say its okay with whatever he buys you that you know is draining his wallet without him giving it a single thought, it worries you why he likes to pamper you with such lavish gift. “But, before I give you this gift, I must tell you something first.” Aventurine words made you curious and all ears to hear, and he could see that as he continued turning his head to the left of him to gaze the sky.

“To be quite honest with you, [Name], i actually never thought this day would come to talk you fully about me. I’ve been thinking that something weird happened to me while I wasn’t aware of in my chest.” Puzzled by Aventurine’s words you asked, “What do you mean?” You showing aventurine he has your full attention solely on him he continued, “I’m not sure when it started or what specifically made me have this weird feeling in my chest. But I do know an idea of who might have caused it. Would you like to take a guess?” Aventurine now fully turns to you seeing your shock expression on wanting you to guess, did he really need to do his little tricks at this moment? While you were hesitating to answer, aventurine was also scared of hearing what you might say. He just wants to see what you might assume the reason of his weird feeling from knowing his fellow co-workers at the IPC, the deals or gambles he makes with people. “Hmm, I’m not entirely sure I can guess why. It confuses me, who did you think might be the cause?” Hearing your response, aventurine forms a tiny smile. “You, [Name].” His response shocks you, how could you be the cause that aventurine has been having a weird feeling? It is a bad thing or good thing? It’s unknownly stressing you to find out. “Huh?! Me? What do you mean??” “You, [Name], have gave me his weird feeling in chest that has been guessing for what felt like ages. Not knowing why I always had this weird happy sense with you that I could not figure out what it actually was. That was until about 2 months ago during my break when I was messaging you, the reason why.” Aventurine then started to reach for the small shopping bag that he was carrying, bringing out a small box that looked delicate. He carefully lifted the lid up and revealed a lavish bracelet that had your name written in cursive. Shocked and surprised by the gift aventurine was going to give you this beautiful bracelet out of nowhere. Whatever money aventurine spent to buy and make this bracelet for you, oh you will repay him for this how could not? “The reason is, that i actually love you, [Name]. I never realized why i always wanted to get you more things for you to have no matter what you say or try to repay me. It can never replace you actually seeing me as someone, a person, and not just doing business with me. I own you my heart, for being the person i truly do love and enjoy being with.” He grabbed your hand and started to place the bracelet on your wrist, clipping it to secure it stays on your wrist. “Knowing you, you will try to repay me or makeup for this to be even. But I only have one thing to make it even to you.” You were still mesmerized by the bracelet and hearing him know what you would have said, you looked at him, “and what would that be?” A small genuine smile appeared on aventurine’s face. “All I ask of you is, will be my love?”

[pantheresssy]

In The News (Art Donaldson/Reader)

Hi there!

First fic and also first smut in a long time! I didn’t remembered that it was so complicated to write, but I think that’s pretty good (not in the end tho). Hope u guys enjoy.

Summary: You make an article not very favorable to Tashi and Art's marriage, and he just has to show you how well they are; by fucking you while talking about how much he loves her.

warnings: smut, +18 only, kind of dom!art (even when it doesn’t look like that, power play, r is a smart bitch, quick fuck, and art talks about tashi less times than I expected.

The marriage of the two biggest tennis stars is on the verge of collapse! Art and Tashi Donaldson share only two things in common: their profession and a daughter, since love is not equal.

Tashi seems very unhappy with where she lives and, to escape, she hangs out in the middle of the night with a loser named Patrick Zweig to have something more.

May be Art losing his so loved wife?

And just like that his morning was ruined.

This article was the first of many that would come, Art was sure. With those words, he would become even more the center of attention, this time bringing the worst part of his marriage to the surface. Nothing but perfection was what Tashi taught him to show when it came to that union, with that matter, everything she took care of, even the smallest detail, fell apart. Everything would turn into a snowball because of a few words and a photo of her leaving in the middle of the night.

Even though he didn't want to see anything else, Art picked up his phone and quickly looked for the name signed. Y/n Y/l. The first to really bother him. He just had to take matters into his own hands.

That's how he ended up in front of the door of your house, ringing the bell without stopping.

When you opened it, the look of surprise on your face almost made him smile. You were prettier in person than in the photos on the internet, not that he would really care about that. "Sir. Donaldson, what a surprise."

He rested his shoulder on the hinge of the door and looked at you. He had a serious expression, but his eyes sparkled with something that you guessed was amusement. "I can say the same. The news earlier today were quite a shock to me, you know,"

"Oh, you read it." The shock weighed on your face. You were using it to confuse him and play innocent, and it might actually be working, if the way he moved was any indication. "I'm sorry you find out this way, but a good story just need to published."

He clenched his jaw and gave you a tight-lipped smile. "I understand that, but you might have misunderstood the real situation. And I would like to clarify things to you."

Your smile brightened. "An exclusive interview? This would be wonderful, Mr. Donaldson. Come in, please." He hummed and passed by you when you took a step back.

Art sat in an armchair facing you, with the coffee table being the only thing separating the two of you. "Tashi was trying to convince Patrick to let her be his trainer, no date's like you said."

"But she was trying to convince him at 2 am? It's quite a anormal time for a job meeting, don't you think?"

He wanted to rip out all the quick answers you had and throw them away before it led to a more tragic ending. You weren't worried about anything other than having something fresh to say and you would wrap him in a web until you pulled the answers out of his mouth. "She didn't want me to know about it. Him and I have a hard past."

You nodded understandably and looked at him with sad eyes. What is she doing. "I know. You took his girl, but not before he took her from you."

Frozen in place. That's how he was. Frozen and looking at with quite scared. Nobody knew about what happened in Stanford, he didn't have anyone to tell, nobody was paying attention to Art Donaldson. "And how you assume this?"

Your eyes shone as if he had made the one million question. "Nothing better than have a history from the ones who experienced everything." And when your smile became more malicious, he finally realized.

"Patrick were never good on telling things," He affirmed, trying to put the control back on his lap. "But the lies he tell must be pretty convincing."

You agreed. "They were, if you being here is an indication."

Art felt fucked. He didn't know how to convince you. You were a journalist, even when publishing those things. It was your job to check the facts and not being fooled easily.

So he appealed for his best quality; his seduction.

He wasn't by far the ultimate guy on flirting, but he could do one thing or other. And, if he was being honest, it wouldn't be the worst thing trying to do it with you. After all, you're a pretty, fucking bastard woman, who he just wanted to make take back your own words.

Art rested his elbows on his knees and placed his hands in fists under his chin. This way, he would look at you underneath. "You know how to do a pretty number out of people,"

Again, your smile. "I would be worried if I don't. This is my job, Mr. Donaldson."

"You're good at it," He corresponded your amusement and ran his eyes on you. The way you're sitting didn't let much to look for, but it was enough to make him flinch.

You got silent for a little, waiting for him to take the lead. When it didn't happen, you took the ball back. "Well, you never told me how you felt about you ex best friend going out with your wife."

He dismissed the question. "I didn’t because there's nothing to feel." It wasn't as convincing as he thought, but it was a will-do answer.

You got up and went to a table behind the couch you were sitting, giving him the opportunity to drop his shoulders and close his eyes. "I could be more convinced if you had told me that you already know and didn't care. Tashi doesn't love you, does she?"

And again, he was fucked. "Of course she does. She wouldn't be with me if she didn't." And he wanted to believe his own words.

"She can't play anymore, Mr. Donaldson, but you can."

A glass of whiskey is given to him and he took without thinking twice. The first sip burned his throat, but the second seemed softer than the look you're throwing in his direction. "She's not with me for it, Y/n. Trust me." The amount of times he had justified himself was getting out of his math.

You sit on the center table, mirroring his position so you would be closer to his face. "If she's not then why she didn't let you retire? To live the the peaceful and easy life you desire?"

Art blinked and took a deep breath while thinking about what you asked. It was a hard question since he knew the reason why, but he wouldn't let you win. "She wants to see me go higher,"

The laugh came out of you easily, so much that you didn't even made any effort to put it out. "You know I'm right, Mr. Donaldson. Just say it." His eyes locked with yours and he stopped breathing.

No second passed before he putted his lips on yours, letting the cup on the floor to wrap his hands on your neck. And for the first time he was happy to have something from your mouth.

You were pulling him by his shirt, bringing him up so you could take off his clothes without success. His breathing was hot against your check and he was devouring you as if you were the last meal he would have. Maybe you were, who knows.

The steps you took backward led you to the drinks table, where he pressed you back with his pelvis, making you feel how hard he was just for that little moment. "Mr. Donaldson,"

Art tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled your head back. You sucked on his lip as you were forced away from his mouth and he groaned. It was something low and hoarse that made you grin.

"I don't wanna waist no time." He whispered.

You pushed him away, not too much, and took your clothes off. First the shirt, the jeans, your bra and underwear. All of this under his eyes. "Won't take yours off?"

He quickly got as naked as you, giving you a pretty view of his trobbing cock. Art pushed you on the table, your ass beating against the tray with the drink bottles and shaking everything out of the place. You loved the silverware but at that moment your mind was running with the idea of him.

His lips were making their way to your breasts, his tongue flicking your nipple sending a shiver to your back. Your hands were os his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin leaving red trails on it's way. "I I underestimated you."

He squeezed your thighs, his thumb rubbing against the Inside. "Why?" His lips kissed your belly and he kept his way down.

"I thought you were Tashi's pretty doll, that she could control and play anytime." You pulled his hair when you felt his tongue close to your pussy. "But here you are, about to fuck me against my table,"

He only shaked his head in agreement, still more focused on what his mouth was doing. His arms went around your knees and opened your legs wider. "I love Tashi," He said and licked a line in your slit.

You closed your eyes and dropped you head behind, smiling. "You do?" A hum.

"I fuck her every day. Not him. She carries my ring, we have a daughter."

His fingers caressed your clit, his tongue now going inside your opening. The moan that came out of your mouth were the most pornographic you ever gave. "Then why you're here, Mr. Donaldson?"

Art left his spot making your hips clench with a sharp spasm. His lips quickly went to your neck, letting small kisses that burned like fire in each part of your body. "To tell how much we love each other."

Your hands went for his cock, "Do it then, tell me."

Art stepped between your legs and he let your hands guide him. Reaching your entrance, his cock twitched as he felt the heat, and his hips went forward with a impulse. He was against your g spot.

His noises were the best thing you've ever heard. "We've been together for years, no fights, never breaking up. But you just had to put something to make us fight, don’t you?”

Art's hips moved away and came back, knocking against yours making a loud noise. The table became unstable beneath you. "I have to give people a good run for their money, Donaldson."

You clenched around him, pulling him tigh. Art looked to were you both were together and stared to go faster. Your smell was in the air between you. "Tashi is my wife," He whispered in your ear. "The one I put a ring on."

Your hands went down to his ass, squeezing and help him with his moves. "And look were you are now."

He could feel the angry again. Not even when he was pounding on you hard you stopped the smart mouth. The way you always knew what to say to let him lost.

Trying to put you into silence, he grabbed your knees. Now, your back was against the wall.

“When I end with you, I’ll be back to her. I might fuck her just like i’m doing to you.” The pleasure in your face made him go harder.

You placed your hands in the table and stretched your back, giving him a better view of your breasts. You could feel him everywhere inside you. “Same position too, Mr. Donaldson?”

Art didn’t respond, just kept his rhythmic, feeling he could cum anytime soon. But he won’t do it before you, he wanted to see you underneath him looking well fucked and sweating. And he would.

Everything was becoming too much. His touch, his smell, the way he pounded on you, his moans. Art was a sign for the eyes, and him being so concentrated on not coming just did it all better. His frowned eyebrows gave him a tougher expression, ruined only by his blue shiny eyes. How good he looked that way.

Tashi was a lucky mother fucker.

Your teeth pulled his lips, chin and cheek. You were biting all the places you could reach, digging hard when you got into his neck. Art’s moans were full of pain, but they were also carried by lust. The sensations were getting stronger as the time goes, you could feel that you would come anytime, so you took your fingers to your clit. The moves were fast and tight, following his owns.

You were lost.

“Cum for me,” He said in your ear and you felt your body shiver. So you did it. You were higher than you expected, feeling the waves of your orgasm hit hard on you. The sensation got stronger when he came deeper inside you.

Art didn’t take long for get out of you, stepping back and watching you squirm with barely disguised satisfaction. Being mother fuckers was a couple thing, as you could see. “I was hoping to have an exclusive interview.”

Art smiled and helped you get down, “Wasn’t that better?”

You raised you eyebrows and shook your shoulders. Your clothes were everywhere on the floor, so you took them and started to get dressed again. “It might have been.”

And he was convinced that nothing would come out about his marriage again.

————————————-

After stealing his best friend’s girl and being cheated on, Art Donaldson wants to have the word time!

Not happy about Tashi sneaking in the middle of the night, he decided to give the pay back but in a different way: in the middle of the day! This time, who could possibly be this girl? Her best friend from Stanford time?

Hey!

This was a ride!! Hope it all went good! My english isn’t the best but I tried to do it without google translate every word since I really don’t trust it’s ways of doing it. Please I’m sorry if it all went a mess.

See u in the next one!

[yanderepuck]

First ikevil fic and it's bc @lulu-the-smol-floof is an impatient bitch who can't wait for me to actually feel comfortable writing them. BUT HERE WE ARE

Tho this ain't smut. More fluffy and what dating would generally look like. The only request was to bite him. So bite him we will

You see Jude sitting back in the chair with a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. His jacket is off with his sleeves rolled up. You watch him from the other side of the room, admiring him.

Even though you know he clearly wants to be alone, you start walking to him.

"Whaddya want, princess?" he hears you coming and doesn't look up from the paper. He sets his cup down on the table next to him.

"Aren't I allowed to just want to spend time with you?" You stand behind the chair and lean over to kiss the top of his head, before leaning over more to read the paper with him. "Anything interesting written there?"

"Nothing that's keepin' my interest," he reaches up to pet your hair, still looking at the paper.

You hum softly and lean your head against him. He flips the paper over to look at a different article. He starts to pull his hand away from your head and you whine.

"Nooo..."

His hand immediately goes back to playing with your hair.

"What are ya? A dog?"

"It feels nice."

Jude sighs but keeps combing his fingers through your hair while you lean over his shoulder.

This goes on for a few more minutes. Until...

Chomp.

Jude turned his head quickly to look at you. You bite his arm, playfully of course. Just simple girlfriend instincts. Like a cat giving little love nibbles.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?!"

Before he could rip his arm from your mouth you let go and ran away, but not without giggling.

Jude stood up facing the door but you were already out of the room. He looked at his arm and was able to see little teeth indents.

"The hell was that for?!"

~~

A few days pass and it happens again

You're laying in bed with him. He's half asleep with an arm over your body. Meanwhile you can't fall asleep. Your fingers play with his. Sliding between the gaps, pressing your finger tips against one another.

You smile and giggle softly. You love him. You play with his have like you are a child. Right before going CHOMP.

You bit him again. Jude's eyes opened and ripped his hand from you.

"Will ya stop doing that!"

He pulls his arm under the blanket and turns around, his back facing you.

You pout and turn to your side too. You just want to nibble on him. Doesn't he know you love him? You're just trying to show your love with a little nibble. Isn't that clear?

~~

A few more days go by and you see Jude leaving the castle.

"Jude, wait!" You run up to him and hug him before he can leave.

"You'll see me later. Stop actin' like I'm going for my good."

"With as much as you getting jumped that might happen," you pout. He sighs knowing he can't exactly argue with that.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever. I need to go," he hugs you back. He learned the hard way that you will never let go until he returns the hug. "I gotta lot-"

CHOMP.

You bit his shoulder.

"WHAT'S WITH YA AND BITING ME?!"

CHOMP.

He bites you back. But he didn't get the reaction he expected. He thought you would pull back and yell, but you bite harder. So he bites harder.

This goes back and forth until you let go of him, feeling happy.

"I love you so much!"

He is so confused. He left teeth marks on you and you like it.

"You're a lil freak," he scoffs and leaves the castle.

You skip through, happy about being bit back, assuming Jude knows why you bit him and he bit you for the same reason.

[bubblybloob]

Hey, so this kind of turned into a vent. Be wary going in, but it’s important if you engage some with my stuff. I think I’ve been thinking about it more as btg has become more active, and wanted to get it all off my chest.

I’ve wanted to bring this up for a while now, after my popularity grew. I’m sure some people have noticed my lack of joy at the 500 followers milestone, and the 600 one, but it’s a bit more complicated than on the surface.

So, there was something I haven’t really mentioned. It wasn’t ever really a secret, I just didn’t feel it was important, and was always taught it was dangerous to talk about and to dance around the subject if brought up. But I’ve noticed that the people on Tumblr find this kind of important to know when interacting. I know people on here can get really hostile, and this kind of became a secret because of that. I don’t know if it’s bad that I haven’t said anything or not, but I thought I should still make a post anyway.

So, I’m, in my country, since I know it might be younger or older in other places, a minor.

Okay most important stuff first. Yes, I’ve said or drawn mildly suggestive stuff, that’s mostly because I’m very unaffected by it and find it more amusing (I might be a little ace idk), though I do purposely keep stuff I make mostly tame simply because like- still technically a kid. I’ve seen stuff far more suggestive from afar before and just nod and say “mm, yes, that exists” and indifferently move the hell on with my life.

Being part of the STP community has been really strange for me and not all in good ways. I hate hate hate people looking up to me, or being jealous, or having anxiety talking to me because- in my head- I’m just doing everything and talking to everyone I can because I like making stuff and talking to people, and I feel so uncomfortable up on this pedestal where I’m held so high, but if I make one wrong step I’ll have tomatos thrown at me. It’s a really claustrophobic and isolating position and feeling and it makes me feel sick, anxious, stressed, and really really scared.

I like the community I’m in and friends I’ve made, but I’m really afraid I’ll say something unusual or wrong or maybe even offensive since I don’t know everything I’m supposed to say or do. I don’t know how to act when someone’s depressed, I don’t know how people feel about shipping, or designs for characters who canonically don’t have a physical appearance, or what the opinion is on all of the nsfw content. I do the Homer Simpson bush meme whenever I see it pop up because if there’s something that I do know, it’s that people don’t want minors reading their blorbos being sexy with each other.

(Side note: The amount of times I’ve accidentally clicked on an explicit fic thinking ‘Oo what’s this’ and then seeing what’s going to happen is… not staggering, actually. But enough for me to laugh in hindsight. I scroll to the bottom to read the comments to confirm my suspicions, and get the hell out. Happened with the same fics multiple times too because I forgot they were explicit and that I’d encountered them in the first place, wondered why I never read them and then boom, flashback, I never read the description like the fool I am).

And there’s the thing isn’t it. Some parts of fandom culture, it feels like all I can do is mess up. I just don’t know how I can handle all the fear of this attention?

Like, I don’t hate it. I like interacting, I like that people love my art despite my grievances with parts of my style, I’ve been so motivated to grow and get better because of everyone. You can all look at my oldest STP post and newest one and see the differences plainly.

But it’s really so much, and I’m as grateful as I am terrified. I’m terrified of hurting someone’s feelings when I don’t mean to. Like, what if I follow someone and they get excited because I’m a “big name” and then I decide to unfollow for whatever reason I might have at the time? I might crush that person’s soul or want to interact.

Despite my willingness, I do have problems with some ships, but I can’t voice any because what if I start a big argument with a bunch of people involved instead of the normal discussion I wanted to have? People are more likely to take my side because I’m the popular person, and we all know popular people are always right about everything and we must regurgitate their opinions without any thought put into how you actually feel. And then I’ll make whoever I was talking to retreat for a really long time, and everything will be awful and terrible forever and ever.

I can’t do that to people! I’ve been those people! I’ve was told things by people I looked up to and would get so so so upset, because I’m really emotional. I don’t want to hurt someone who might be sensitive like me.

I really just wanted to get all these feelings off my chest. Sorry if it got pretty venty. I’m open to discussing it, I’m still really scared to post this, it’s my only ever vent post, but I’ll try not to just save it in my drafts and let it rot.

[brighttears]

Cleardune Chapter 6: Final Frontier

Joel Miller x f!reader

no physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: Suddenly, the day of reckoning is upon you, when you meet Joel in the barn to find him with his bags packed. You’re forced to ask him the question that’s been tugging at your brain since you first met him, unsure of what his answer will be. Will he stay? Will he go? Will he take you with him? 

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: pet names obviously (darling, sweetheart, love, angel), cunnilingus 

A/n: the end!!! Part of this is actually the thing that started the whole fic lol. Hope y'all have enjoyed reading this as much as i have writing it <<33

Series masterlist

—

You’re in the same position you’d fallen asleep in when you wake up the next morning to the streaming daylight, feeling like you could use an extra hour or two, but rested enough to get yourself out of bed and on to cook breakfast, humming to yourself as the eggs fry. 

“What’re you all happy about this morning?” Pa grumbles when he walks in, poking his cup forward as he sits down at the table.

“Just, um, can’t get Bo’s piano playing out of my head.” You lie as you pour his coffee. 

“Mm.” Is his gruff reply as he takes a loud sip. 

What, I can’t be happy? Had tempted your lips, but it was easier to let go of this morning, a flippant who cares? following the thought. So, you just continue with the eggs, settling into the silence of breakfast. 

—

As soon as Joel enters the saloon, he gets a few greetings, now suddenly popular in the eyes of the regulars that you realize might be just as bored to death in this town as you are. He throws up waves, but his eyes are set on you as he comes to lean over the bar with a smile on his face. 

“Listen,” he starts, keeping his tone for your ears only, “I’ve got some things to tend to this afternoon, but I’ll be at the barn at dusk, meet me there.” 

Smiling at the idea of him making time for you, you nod. With a smirk, Joel winks, and then he’s gone back through the saloon doors. 

It’s a bit disappointing, having him come and go so quick, but, the thought of him waiting for you at the end of the day is enough to take the edge off of the bore that the saloon never ceases to be, though everyone seems to be in just a tad higher spirits. It, you then realize, is Joel’s effect, having raised so many hearty laughs the day before, and you can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips as you recognize the graceful cheer that he trails through town. 

—

Dusk is just setting in when you head to the barn, a smile on your face, waiting to see Joel’s. But, once you do, there’s something about him that makes it fall, head tilting in question. You’re met with no smile, Joel instead passing his tongue over his teeth behind closed lips, arms crossed and shoulders unusually hunched as he leans against Petunia’s stall, looking at the floor. The last thing you notice, the detail that stops you in your tracks, is the clearly packed satchels sitting next to his feet. 

Your lungs squeeze. “You’re leaving.”

Joel turns himself to you slowly, moving his hands to his hips. He keeps his eyes on the ground. “I wanted to say goodbye before I do.” After a pause, time and your lungs frozen, he opens Petunia’s stall and brings her out, already tacked up and ready to go. 

You take quick steps to him, but they’re uneven and stuttered, all of you reeling. Words fail you. 

You knew very well this was coming, but the weight of it hadn’t hit you until this moment. Maybe you’d been protecting yourself, or maybe you were just fooling yourself, believing in the back of your mind that he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t leave you. He couldn’t. But here he is. And it seems so easy for him to. 

“Well, where are you going?” You ask, breathing unevenly, though you know the answer. You feel small and sound smaller, the desperation audible no matter how much you try to hide it. 

Joel pauses, both hands on the saddle. He doesn't look at you when he speaks. “Don’t know. Never do.”

You don’t even let a beat go by before you ask, “Can I come with you?”

There it is, hanging in the air. Finally, you’ve said it. It’s a confession and a request all in one. Awaiting his reply, your heart beats against your ribcage like a prisoner at the bars. The seconds that pass feel like ages. 

“Your pa wouldn’ like that very much.”

Replying quickly, you huff, waving your hand dismissively, “He’ll find someone else to mind the bar, he won’t even know I'm gone.” Joel turns to you, “Now, you and I both know that’s not right. He sure will know you’re missin’. And he sure will care. He’s your pa.” He ends with assertion, as if him being your father meant anything more than blood. 

“He doesn’t care about me!” You rebut, gesturing your arms out in flustered frustration. “All he cares about is that I work for him. I’m just a body, who’s mother died.”

“Now why would you say that? That man’s purpose is to protect you. Take care of you. A father loves his daughter. No matter what.” He assets, almost stern. 

“He doesn’t want me, Joel.” You reply, just as stern. “He told me so.” After a long beat, feeling like this is your last chance to say anything at all to him before he’s gone forever, you ask the only question left. It comes out mousy, “…Do you want me? Do you want to be with me?”

Again, your question hangs. For a few solid moments, all he does is look you evenly in the eyes. Then, in one swift movement, his arms are around your waist, and he kisses you. 

He tastes just the same as he always does, but you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of it. Joel’s warm arms encapsulate you—everything about him does, completely. 

This is the man you want to be with until the day you die. It occurs to you then, sure, true, and certain. 

When he pulls away, still close enough to feel the breath from his lips on yours, voice quiet and low, he speaks, “I do.” The words swirl and echo in your mind; a gift, it feels like—something finally for you. One thing in this life that’s yours, that means a choice for you. It feels like freedom. To be with Joel, anywhere, for as long as you live. You don’t care how rough the road gets, you don’t care how cold the desert is at night, that there are dangers out there that you’ve never seen, that you’ll never see your father again, this town again, that you’ll never set another foot in that damn bar. You want to leave it all behind. You want to leave with him. No one else. All these years you’ve daydreamed about running away, you could never do it. But with him, you can.

“Then take me with you.” You whisper back. “Please.”

“You don’t know what’s out there.” His voice is low and full of warning, but his arms are still around you, so you quickly reply, “I don’t care, as long as I’m with you.”

Slowly, he kisses you again, simply resting his lips against yours, but harder than before, and when he pulls back, his breath is heavier. 

He nods once. “Go get your things, and meet me back here.” He whispers lowly, like a secret, and you’re instantaneously giddy. “I’ll be waiting.” He holds you for another moment before concluding, “I won’t leave without you.” And you swear you’ll remember those words for as long as you live, just the way he said them. Then he loosens his arms, and you nod before pulling away and walking quickly out of the barn. 

You run back to the saloon in increments, intermittently losing control of your excitement. As you pass through the town, even though you know you’ll never see any of it again, you don’t take a single look around you. You’re ready to go. To start a new life. 

Climbing the tree back up to your window, you think it’s the one thing you’ll miss. This tree that you’ve watched grow since you were a girl, that has grown with you as you’ve climbed it, the one thing in this whole damn town that’s been supporting you all these years, even if it’s only been your weight. 

Inside, you hurriedly throw the belongings you deem worth taking into the satchel that’d remained empty for years. In front of the bureau, you pause, dancing your finger over the framed picture of your mother. 

You wonder what she would think of this, what she would think of Joel. You think she’d like him. If she knew how things are now, you think she’d want you to go. There’s nothing for you here, and a big world wide world out there, just waiting for you to go see it. With the man you love, and the only man who has ever truly made you feel loved. 

Carefully, you wrap the picture in your nicest dress and shove it into the bag before hastily climbing back out of your window and down the tree, letting yourself drop to the ground. For a moment, you pause again, running your hand over the bark. Your fingers run over the old notches left on the trunk where you scrawled your name here some years ago with the big buck knife you stole from your father. Nearly cut yourself doing it, but it got the job done. And although the jagged lines have mutated your name some as the tree has grown with them, here it remains. Your one true mark on this town. 

You leave it there, and let yourself run to the barn.

Joel is waiting, as promised, leaning against Petunia’s stall with her still out and ready. When he sees you, he cracks a smile, those lips the only thing you can see from the orange barn light over his hat. You stop just a few feet from him, waiting for him to tell you again that he wants you, that he’s taking you with him. 

“You ready to go, sweetheart?” He asks, still with that smirked smile as he steps away from the stall. 

“Yes.” You answer simply, feeling yourself grin. 

“Well, come on, then.” He cocks his head towards Petunia, and your grin widens as you come up to her for Joel to hoist you on before mounting himself in front of you. 

As Petunia starts out of the barn, he looks back at you and smiles, and you wrap your arms around him, resting your cheek on his back, and close your eyes. 

You’ll wait to open them until the town is out of sight. You don’t care for it at all anymore. No sentimentality, no bitter sweet. It’s already gone to you. Now, all there is is you, Joel, Petunia, and the open country. 

You’ve never been more than a few miles outside of town, but as you ride out into the night, that cool breeze washing over your face, it feels like it’s where you belong. 

You belong with Joel. Anywhere, with him. 

More than anything, you want this new life. You want adventure. And you want Joel. It feels like this is how it was always meant to be; you were so quickly taken by him because meeting him is what you’re meant for. Your heart knew it before your mind did, and thank god for its persistence, and for your surrender. Later, you’ll ask him if he feels the same. At this point, there’s little fear left in you of what you can say to him. Your heart and brain are finally in agreement that it’s not just you being foolish, he’s not taking you for no reason. You’re with him now, and if he wasn’t ready for that, if he didn’t want it, you know he wouldn’t do it. But here you are, riding off into the night, this cowboy with his girl on his back. 

Still with your eyes closed, you kiss his leathered back, and squeeze him tighter. 

After only a few minutes out of town, Joel answers every question by telling you, “There’s no one else I’d dare take with me out here. Never even honestly considered it before. But you, my darlin’... you’re the one. And I swear on everythin’, I will keep you safe. …Darlin’, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.” Feeling Petunia slow to a halt, you open your eyes to him turning his head back towards you. “I’m telling you that now,” he says, looking at you over his shoulder, “because I’m givin’ you the chance to change your mind. I’ll take you right back home.” He pauses, sighing as he glances to the town behind you. “So, here’s your chance.”

All you can help but do is smile. 

“My plan is to stay with you as long as you’ll let me.”

Joel grows a wide smile back, those brown eyes twinkling, “That’d be a very long time, sweetheart.”

“God willing, a very, very, very long time.” 

He chuckles. “God willing.” He sighs again, then says, “C’mere,” so you lean up to smack a kiss to his lips, “Alright, let’s ride, sweet thing.” He taps his heels on Petunia’s sides, “Hold on!” And you’re off, racing through the desert, your face hurting as you laugh. 

—

You rode through the night, exhilarated by the growing distance between you and Cleardune keeping you laughing and grinning until your cheeks couldn’t take it anymore. Just after sunrise, you’d spotted a small piece of land, a dilapidated house next to a barn in even worse shape. As you rode up to investigate, you found that it was abandoned. Joel told you that there’s a dotting of houses like this over the flatlands you’d wandered into, where the drought that hit a few years ago wrecked the small population of farmers. So, you decided to take a break and set Petunia up in one of the weak but still standing stalls in the large barn. Then, with nothing but a smile, Joel took your hand and led you to the ladder up into the hayloft to guide you to the large window at the front, pointing out with his other hand on the small of your back. 

“See that?”

After spotting it, you turn to him. “Is that Cleardune?” You ask, wonderstruck. 

He grins and nods. “Sure is. You know what that means? You belong to the open country now, darlin’.

Turning to enclose yourself in his arms, you correct him, “I belong to you now.”

He huffs a chuckle, “I wouldn’t say it like that.”

“I would.” 

Joel tilts his head, the edge of his lip tugged up, looking at you through his lashes. “Would you now?”

“I would.”

He pauses, looking over your face with that same expression. He looks a bit floored, but not perturbed. No, as his hands tighten on your waist, he looks galvanized. And just like that, you're laid over a hay bale, dress pushed up to your neck, one warm, calloused hand on your breast, the other holding onto your thigh slung over his shoulder, and you’re cumming against his mouth. 

As you heave breaths, you flutter your eyes open to the sunlight bathing you from the window. “Oh,” you let out absently, sighing at the warmth it spreads over your bare chest. You let your head fall back into the hay, unbothered by its scratch against your back. 

Content. Completely and utterly content. 

Joel lays wet kisses up your stomach, and you sigh again, ruffling his hair with a lazy hand. 

And then you hear it, the words flowing into your ears like a song. 

“I love you.” 

Your hands climb through his hair, a deep breath raising your chest against his face. “You love me?” You ask quietly, eyes pulling open. 

“I love you.” He repeats in a whisper, his lips making their way up to your neck, scruff against your skin. “I love you.” 

Realizing his words, you take his face up to your hands. His eyes are half shaded by his lids, shining lips parted as he looks over your face. 

It felt like you’d said it before, having been thinking it for so long, but you remember that you haven’t yet. 

“I love you,” it jumps out, and then your lips are all over his, pecking in between more “I love you, I love you, I love you.”’s. 

Joel slides his arms under your back, the cool leather of his jacket replacing the course hay, and lays his torso over yours while kneeled in front of the hay bale. With a sigh, he presses his lips against yours, resting there for a moment before he pulls away and turns his head to bring his cheek down to rest his cheek on your chest. Closing your eyes, you sigh at the feeling, running your hands through his hair. 

It’s bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. 

When he speaks, his soft tone rumbles through your chest. 

“I almost made the biggest mistake of my life last night. Thought I could be without you, but every time I think about what it’d be like to be out here knowin’ you were still in Cleardune… I dunno.” He pauses, “Probably would have come right back for you.”

“I was so afraid I’d never see you again, Joel.” You whisper while you play with his hair, the expired pain and worry still audible in your voice. 

“So was I.”

“Then why did you almost do it? Why did you try to disappear?” 

He pauses. “I was afraid. Guess I hadn’t grown up as much as I thought I had. But I fixed it, honey. Learned my lesson with you.” 

“What were you so afraid of?” You inquire softly, ghosting a braid in his locks. 

“I guess… I’ve never had a partner out here. Always been alone. And I know how to handle myself, but if I’ve got someone else… someone I love, I just… don’t have any practice trying to keep someone else safe, too. But I swear, darlin’,” he whispers, holding you a little tighter, “you won’t come into any harm while I have you with me.” He pauses, drawing soft spirals over your skin. “I’ll teach you how to shoot. How to ride. Hey, we can get you your own horse, baby. Maybe find that stallion back East.” You chuckle. “Teach you how to hunt n’ how to handle trouble in town. How to keep the peace, but how to know when it’s a lost cause. Teach you how to fight. How to run. Everythin’, darlin’, everythin’ you need to know. And maybe we’ll… we’ll find somewhere to settle down. That’s what we should really do. Hm?” He asks, looking up at you as he moves his arm from around your back to take your wrist in his hand to kiss. 

Looking back down at him, you whisper, watching his lips hover over your skin, “I thought you never wanted to settle down? Get too restless?” 

Joel sighs again, then whispers back, “You know what, darlin’, I think it was just that… I always felt like I was searchin’ for somethin’, but I could never find it. And I think it was you. I think you were that thing. And I’ve found you. And I wanna keep you. And I wanna settle down with you. Get a plot of land somewhere. And live out the rest of my days with you.”

Leaning your head back, you close your eyes and smile wide, close to chuckling at the sheer joy humming in your chest. 

“Wha’d’ya think, sweetheart?”

“I think you’re a dream come true, Joel Miller.”

Chuckling, Joel wraps his arms back around your back to hold you tighter. “No, no, that’s all you, love. S’ all you.” He pauses. “Just a shame it took this damn long to find you. But I did. I finally found you, my darlin’. My angel. My final frontier.”

You laugh, feeling the reverberation against his weight over your torso. “That would make you my first. Told you, I’ve never been out of that town.”

“Well, I guess I should show you some of the country before we find somewhere to stay.”

“I would very much like that.” Still smiling, you sigh, “God, there's a whole world out there I’ve never seen.”

“I’ll take you. Darlin’, I’ll show you the stars—hell, I’d ride us right up into the moon if you asked me too.”

“No,” you chuckle lightly, leaning your neck to look down at him again and placing your hands in his hair, “down here’s just fine. Just as long as I’m with you.”

“God,” Joel sighs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “never stop saying that, darlin’.”

“Never stop saying what?”

“That you wanna be with me.”

You kiss the top of his head and whisper, “I’ll tell you every day for the rest of my life.”

Joel sighs, kissing your bare skin again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” Joel speaks, barely above a whisper, but it swirls like smoke inside your head. “God, I love you.”

And this is it, you think to yourself as you run your hands through his hair, his head shifting to press soft lips against warm skin, this is what you were waiting for. And it was worth it, all those dead days, there was a reason for every one of them, and it's the smell of hay, the dust particles dancing in the streaming golden sun, the arms holding you close, and your one and only true love whispering, I love you, I love you, I love you, darlin’, I love you, and your voice finally coming out to whisper back, I love you, I love you, I love you, Joel Miller, I love you.

[skyward-floored]

I've been turning something over in my head lately, I might make a poll about it, but I'm not totally sure yet... I've been debating maybe rethinking how I'm going to do the main movie incredibles au fic.

I'm notoriously bad at keeping up with longfics, and it's already been like two years since I first began working on it. I just don't know how to structure a lot of things, and it's... tricky, I guess, working with the au and having oneshots that directly relate to things that happen in the movie fic, but still having it unfinished and unavailable for reading.

Problem is I don't really know what to do about it. Maybe I should go back to my roots, and just pick scenes to post at random? Should I figure out which scenes you all are most looking forward to, and post those? Or should I keep on with what I've been doing, and make you all keep waiting for who knows how long it'll take me to actually do something with this fic? Would posting random scenes ruin the build-up? Is it more worth it to wait? Do I want to wait?

...I don't know. Maybe nothing much will change by me posting this, but I needed to get my thoughts down.

[patolemus]

i don’t know why i am the way i am (there’s something in the static, i think i’ve been having revelations)

Rin has always been a believer. Both he and Yukio attended mass every Sunday at the monastery all their lives, grew up listening to Shiro and the other priests recite from the Bible—and this is the only book Rin knows almost by heart. The twins were baptized when they were younger, and despite his rebellious attitude, Rin has never wavered over that belief - whether that is because he was always surrounded by it or not - and it’s Yukio who’s gotten more skeptic about it as the years pass.

After Shiro dies, and Rin finds out he’s the son of Satan, Rin stops going to church. He doesn’t believe he’s welcomed at God’s house anymore, son of the original sinner that he is. He mourns the loss quietly, spending Sunday mornings in the quiet of his and Yukio’s abandoned dorm hoping he could be somewhere else.

(Alternatively, he could go to the chapel obsessively, turning his believes into a quest for absolution. Maybe if he behaves like a good Christian boy ought to do, if he follows the rules and proves Rin has not abandoned him, God will forgive him the sin of being born.)

Rin would want to have his confirmation—maybe he was in the middle of that process before Satan possessed Shiro. But now that holy instruments harm him, it’s like another sign that a demon isn’t welcomed, and that God has forsaken him. For that same reason, some of his favorite Bible verses harm him, and it’s through gritted teeth and clenched fists that he recites them in class and to himself, refusing to give them up because he’s turned tainted by his demon blood.

(When he first awakens, the night before the funeral, Rin takes a bottle full of holy water from the monastery’s reserves and tries dousing himself on them, thinking he might be able to cleanse himself of this curse with it. It burns, making his skin splotchy red and his eyes water from the pain. He’d always been able to touch it without issues before, but now it repels him. Rin falls to his knees in front of the altar, head bowed to the sculpture of Jesus crucified on the cross, and wonders for the first time if God has left him.)

(The burn fades within the hour, and Rin hates that most of all.)

Rin avoids mirrors the first few weeks after Shiro’s death, not wanting to see how he’s irrevocably changed. He hates the feeling of his longer canines when he runs his tongue over them, grimaces at the new, sharper shape of his ears, can’t barely take a look at his tail to stuff it under his shirt. He looks like he’s only just rolled out of bed, appearance shabby and unkept, but Rin prefers that to watching himself now that he’s no longer one of God’s creations.

He prays by his bedside every night - even more so now that he can’t go to mass, Rin has started praying obsessively since Shiro died - has his rosary around his neck even though it makes his skin itch and takes it everywhere he goes. He always blesses the table before eating, thanking God for the food he’s provided for them.

Every time he uses his flames, Rin feels like a sinner. This are the flames of Satan, the flames of the original sinner, God’s antithesis. Using them feels like forsaking God just like God has forsaken him, but Rin finds no joy in it. As the flames die out and Rin’s freaky demonic features recede, he bows his head and prays. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” he says, trying and failing to feel better about himself.

His friends notice, after all secrets are out in the open and Rin doesn’t have to hide them anymore, and they look at him strangely for it, like his apology to God is out of the norm. Maybe they don’t think Rin would be religious, as the son of Satan. Maybe they just think it’s strange that he’s looking for absolution. They don’t comment on it until much later, when Bon tells him that he’s not a sinner just because he uses Satan’s flames. Bon is much smarter than Rin, so infinitely smarter, so Rin tries to believe him. He never stops praying though.

When he first realizes his feelings for Bon are less than platonic, his first instinct is to go to the confessionary and confess his sin. But the only priest he’s confessed to is Shiro, and Shiro is dead (Shiro is dead), and what priest would give absolution to a demon? So Rin doesn’t go, stewing on his guilt and thinking about it obsessively (“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. This is my first-tenth-hundredth-thousandth confession.” “Forgive me Father, for I want, and I do not know how to stop wanting.”). Is it because he’s the Son of Satan? Was he born a sinner, always meant to stray from God’s path like Satan did? How can he follow God’s will when he’s fallen in love with a boy?

Later, he realizes Shiro would have probably been fine with it, and if Shiro approves… maybe it’s not so wrong. Maybe Rin isn’t sinning when he looks at Bon feeling butterflies in his stomach, isn’t straying from God’s intended path when Bon’s laugh makes him happy. And if this is not a sin then maybe being a halfling isn’t either. Maybe it’s not God that has forsaken him, but the Catholic Church.

(The Vatican will never love him. They have casted him as the villain before he could even prove himself one of God’s believers, and they’ll never let him forget who his father is, and what he’s done. He’ll never be able to visit freely, to marvel at the beautiful structures and the holiness of it all. It hurts. But it hurts less than thinking he’s beyond saving, that God has given up on saving him.

The Vatican can suck it.)

Rin tries going to church again. It’s a daunting task, after days and weeks and months without stepping foot inside a chapel, but Rin finds himself sitting on the third row at the Sunday mass held near True Cross Academy, and feels the knot in his stomach loosen as he listens to the priest. It’s familiar. It’s liberating. Rin feels a little more like himself. Bon is waiting for him at the school gates when he’s done, looking immensely proud and Rin takes his hand in his and lets the feeling of contentment wash over him.

He still prays. He still blesses the table. He still recites verses of the Bible even if they hurt him, and he still refuses to go to a confessionary.

But he can stand to look at himself in the mirror now. He resumes his confirmation process, even knowing he may never be allowed the actual sacrament. He lets himself see a world where he can be the son of Satan and a good Christian, where he can love a boy who’s beautiful and good to him without disappointing God. It’s a different world than the one he lived in before, but Rin thinks it’s a world Shiro would be proud of.

It’s a start.

——————————

(This is my interpretation as I was raised Catholic and went to a Catholic school all my life. I’m nowhere near as devoted as I’m making Rin here lol, but I grew up around Catholic religion and know people who are very hardcore Catholics, so this, as well as my own religious education, is where I draw my knowledge from.)

(Also, I want to clarify that a lot of Rin’s thoughts are in no way healthy, and he will grow to let go of them in time. This is the result of a very traumatic situation that left him stranded with no sense of direction, and some of his actions stem from a need to overcompensate for being half demon. He’ll get better as he learns to deal with that reality.)

Update: my brain won’t stop eating at me so this has turned into a thing (tm). Let’s call it revelations au because I think I’m funny. You can find all my posts about it through that tag in my profile.

[teecupangel]

Because Desmond has awful luck, he gets sent into the SCP universe after dying and they capture him and do experiment and stuffs. Since the experiments aren't too bad and they give free food and a roof over his head he doesn't complain much, especially when he meets 999 because that boi is too cute! And wouldn't it be kinda hilarious if his ancestors sometimes manifest into the real world instead of Desmond being the only one to see/hear them?

I like this idea because this gives us an excuse for Desmond to interact with more SCP ‘items’ and Desmond would be just “Yeah, okay. Fine.” no matter how weird or how dangerous the items he sees are because, at that point, Desmond has reached complete zen. He was supposed to be dead and he’s not so he’s going to make the best out of it.

AND it’s because he’s not originally from the SCP universe that he becomes an SCP ‘item’ himself.

I feel like Desmond would be noted as a ‘Safe’ containment class first because he’s cooperating, seems to understand what’s happening and why they’re doing experiments on him, and generally acting like a normal human being.

Those in charge of him would note that he’s friendly to all, both staff members and other items he interacts with, but he also talks about his past vaguely.

Desmond, on the other hand, is a bit cagey because he’s still not sure if there are any Assassins or Templars in this universe.

Then the Bleeding Effect starts once more.

Desmond thought that it was gone. After months of nothing, he honestly thought the Bleeding Effect was gone.

He felt… free.

He would no longer have to worry if what he was seeing or hearing or feeling or smelling had been real. He no longer had to worry that he was losing his mind.

But, at the same time…

He grieved over their disappearance because it felt like his only connection to his ancestors were gone.

He felt… alone.

So when the Bleeding Effect happened once more…

He welcomed it.

And that was the day Desmond’s SCP class changed into…

Keter.

And they finally had an idea of what Desmond is…

He was a reality-bender.

Because Desmond’s Bleeding Effect?

… is Bleeding into reality.

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

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PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[cynicalmusings]

‘the most crucial skill that a good drinksmith needs is listening… drinksmithing is all about having conversations with your guests’

tea house owner!reader energy for real