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hwaightme · 1 year

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Your fan, San (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

💬 pairing: san x interpreter!reader 💬 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining, drama 💬 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if san was stanning you 💬 wordcount: 4.5k 💬 warnings/tags: language, conflict, two shy dorks, homie sabotage?, misunderstandings, love above all, touring, busy life, reader is a pro linguist, we stan simpteez, unedited oop- 💬 taglist: @acciocriativity, @doom-fics, @layzfeelit @jcngh0-hq @black--awsum @honey-lemon-goose @i-luvsang @jackinmyarea , @izuijin @justhere4kpop 💬 a/n: Hello there <3 here is PART 2 of YOUR FAN SAN!! Hopeless romantic? Check. Chaotic? Check... and the FINALE is coming soon??? ;~; P.S. that uni life do be getting wild so apologies if I'll be haphazardly uploading or if trains of thought are derailed~

'The Beauty of Falling in Love - a collection of short stories, poems and musings'

That was the title of the book you had to translate. And if you were not a (fully) sappy and sentimental mess before, you sure as hell were now. Because each little chapter, be it an anonymous recollection of favourite moments with a loved one, or a vignette dedicated to someone special, was some of the most heartwarming work you have ever read.

Each piece sounded so personal, so real, that you found yourself spending more time than usual on this commission. You had made an agreement with the client that they would be sending chapters out one by one, and prior to receiving one, you would send back a completed translation.

It was an easy enough arrangement, and was not too taxing when it came to your personal time. You could ruin your sleep schedule to your heart's content by watching dramas that you had missed whilst on tour, could make late night trips to the convenience store because you did not want to be caught in the businessperson rush, could catch up with people who you had inadvertently ghosted because of work and inability to find words when you wanted to.

Outside of your preferred mode of relaxation, you kept in touch with some of the members of ATEEZ, thanks to a group chat that San had created and 'simply had to add you' - at least that was how he had advertised it. The group chat consisted of him, you, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang, who to you seemed like a random pick, since you did not interact with neither Yunho nor Yeosang as much.

But over a very short period of time this had changed for the better, and you had grown very comfortable, attached even, to the chaotic quartet. If anything this it was a top up vaccine for being able to keep up with the ATEEZ chaos - otherwise you would be familiarising yourself with it again for tour, as if it was the first day of work.

Little did you know, you were talking with the Operation ring leaders + Yeosang who was in it for the gossip, and to control the fire... in the way he wished. It was more or less a regular conversation, aside from San occasionally panicking and running up to one of the guys for advice.

"Yeo why did you write 'AMOGUS'?"

"Don't question me. This is art- ah see, Y/N sent the prayer hands emoji, she agrees." Yeosang responded, pointing at his phone screen.

"I feel like you guys are six parallel universes ahead of me and I don't like it."

"Make that ten, you boomer."

"This is an ancient meme you are quoting Yeo~" Wooyoung joined in, trying to poke fun at his friend.

"Say that again, the king of social boomers? Are you salty that I did not put hyung after AMOGUS because it's old?"

"What even is this chat-" Mingi, who was observing from his position lying across three dining chairs, threw the question out into the air.

"It is us trying to force San to dm Y/N by pushing them together like two dolls." Wooyoung, slightly irritated, explained.

"Man, you really are done." Mingi responded, chuckling

"I don't know, am I? San is breaking up with me so I am going through all stages of grief."

"Double u tee eff?" San raised an eyebrow and stared at Wooyoung, phone loose in his hands.

"How far along is she?"

"She isn't pregnant dude."

"Ugh you know what I mean."

"Like... a third of the way?"

"Damn you guys are slow as shit. We planned for this to take how long? You even have the confession already written up for the last chapter, this is kind of ridiculous. You know what, hold up."

Wooyoung tackled San, and thanks to the surprise nature of the attack, got the perfect opportunity to grab his friend's phone. After securing 'the bag', Wooyoung strode off to the other side of the room, clicking away, while San attempted to stand up, shouting.

Yunho seemed to have caught onto what the other was about to do, as he launched himself at the shorter man sat on the sofa and splayed himself right over like a blanket.

"No hard feelings bro this is necessary."

As San way trying to battle his way out, but was further restrained by Yeosang who had finally stopped taking photos, Wooyoung giggled deviously and locked the phone again, sauntering back with a devilish grin and handing it to San.

"It is done. You can thank me later."

"What did you do?"

"Something that you should have done like... a year ago."

"DID YOU TEXT HER?"

"Yeah. And don't worry, nothing Woo-style, you grilled me enough times for me to remember her preferences. Plus, I know how to text like you."

"And when did that come in handy?"

"Uh... I have to go water my fish BYEEE~" Wooyoung quickly departed from the living room sprinting back to the dorm, while San remained in shock, swiping at the screen to reveal the message that his friend had sent on his behalf.

Damn. It really was just like him.

The text came to you as a surprise. Though you have had some conversations over private message before, most of them had been in some way work related. Not San messaging you out of the blue to ask how you were and that you should catch up.

With the group chat all but abandoned, you happily launched into texting San. There was never any pressure for a phone call, which you greatly appreciated, and there was no specific guidelines that either of you enforced - without a care you double, triple, quadruple texted, abruptly disappeared only to reappear with a link or a photo... main things was that together, you kept your conversation alive and thriving.

You would have never, not in a million years, imagined yourself getting this close to San, or anyone with a celebrity status for that matter. Simply because you felt like they would need and deserve more than you could offer socially. You were all about human connection and uniting minds, but when it came to your own personal preferences, you would much rather write out your thoughts in astonishing detail and hit send, than say the same things out loud and to somebody in person.

And yet, contrary to your assumptions and what you could only say had been prejudice on your part, San was supportive of you and of your choices, saying he could 'imagine your voice well enough anyways'. He steered clear of pushing you to communicate in a style that was not yours; though you did enjoy hearing his voice, and would be lying if you said he was not a charmer, you could not bring yourself to reciprocate that approach. It was too overwhelming to do during the time that you had allocated for yourself as your regenerative state. And San made your heart melt by showing that he got that, without you having to tear yourself apart and explain.

To him it had been fairly easy to figure out that you were a text over call kind of person, and was something that he had advertised to the Operation Love Language squad. Given your notes app being packed, post it notes sometimes threatening to pour out of your bag, and him spotting you willingly sitting far away from any groups so you could watch something, earphones in, all pointed to that conclusion. And San found that he liked it more than he would have guessed.

Each text was like a memory, and an expression not only of something that they wanted to blurt out, but more often than not of a considered, weighed out opinion, even if it was onomatopoeia or a string of emojis. He would have never been able to get to know you like he did over text, and get so close to you that you were now happily discussing with him your own worries, and passions, and dreams, not just responding to his stream of musings and questions.

It was through one of these extensive texting sessions that you had revealed to San your endeavors as a freelance translator, and gushed about the commission you were working on.

This made San's thumbs freeze midway through typing. Carried away and impatient, he had tried to strike on all fronts, and now that he was in continuous communication with you, he regretted it. Deeply. Except he did not yet know just how risky the decision to parade as someone he was not could be.

After the first time you had mentioned your side work, he had begun to get progressively more quiet. Bit by bit. Until his responses to you turned almost into a conversation with a wall. You were unable to figure out just what had gotten into San, what had changed?

You turned to the work you were meant to translate as a distraction, expecting that the client would have shared the new chapter with you already... but no such thing.

Instead, there was an order cancellation, and a short apology.

What did you do wrong?

What happened?

Was there something that had not been quite right?

You looked over your already completed translations - you were searching for anything to suggest a reason for cancellation. The words appeared blurry, fading into one big mush. It was all terrible... wasn't it?

Who were you kidding you were probably rusty after not working with fiction for so long, and for not focusing hard enough. You had stopped paying attention to the craft. Who even were you? And interpreter, a translator, or a fraud?

You looked at the cancellation email again, knowing full well that it was pointless to try and reach the customer - they might have blocked you for all you knew. This hurt. This really hurt.

You saw that San had responded to your messages, again in a weirdly cheery tone, asking you how you are and what you have been up to? San would understand... right? San would listen to you...?

So you did something that you yourself did not expect, and pressed on the call button. He picked up on the first ring.

He sounded nervous, and almost tearful as you bared all and talked him through what had just happened. You needed him. He was the only one who had understood your language.

When you told him that you were probably over reacting and just humiliating yourself by being 'so deep in sad mode' over a whole lot of nothing, he instantly was there to catch you and call you out. He emphasised the importance of your work, of the beautiful job you had done so far... but then halted, unsure of how to proceed.

This left you confused. He then picked his words in a strangely careful manner, and almost beginning to side with the customer, saying how maybe it was for the better, and that now at least you could relax and find another project...

"San. This is really unlike you. What is up with that personality switch?"

"What do you mean Y/N? It's nothing-"

"I have an ear for speech, San, if there is anyone who could be a bullshit filter, it is me."

Silence.

More silence.

You were about to call out to him again, when you hear a muffled, barely there whisper:

"I'm sorry..."

You were sent reeling. What did he mean? Why was he sorry?

"I... it was me. Y/N. I am sorry. I really did not mean it to turn out that way I-"

"Okay first of all, why?"

"I..."

"Second of all, whilst I am grateful for your support and stuff, it does make me uncomfortable."

"I'm-"

"Thirdly, actually you know what focus on point number one."

When you did not hear an answer, you tried again: "Hello? I am waiting."

"I like you."

"...What?" you were left in shock.

You had suppressed your feelings for San in the deepest caverns of your soul out of the terror that it was bound to be unrequited, but here you were. Listening to that same man who had supported you from the beginning of your career to now (and exposing yet another ridiculous attempt at that), who had read your quirks and style and knew you better than most. Listening to him confess.

"I... how do I say this... it has been a while. A long while. I have been trying to approach you but... I was either too shy for it, or the attempts were just ridiculous. So we- so I came up with this idea, to try and tell you... this book right. The Beauty of Falling in Love. It is... it spoke to me. And I had planned to give it to you piece by piece until I could then reveal myself to you... but then we started talking outside of that and then I panicked and- yeah, I am... I am just so sorry, this is confusing as hell."

"Wait... wait wait... this is... so were you paying me to get me to like you? Was that what you were doing?"

"GOSH! NO! NO, DON'T MISUNDERSTAND!"

"Look. As much as I do like bringing joy to people through my work, this crosses a line. And it's not the fact that you ordered something from me - hell, support the artist right? It's the fact that you decided to be somebody else. You decided to conceal yourself to talk to me. Like you did not trust me. Even though you want me to like you.

I'll be returning the money to you shortly. M-kay? And... talk on stage, I guess."

Before San could respond, you ended the call sharply. No more phone calls. They were cursed, apparently.

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

---

"Maybe... just maybe if you had seen it through and not abandoned ship... your ship could have sailed?"

"Yunho just because it's your idea does not mean is good!" San retorted, having recounted the story to the members, gone into full crisis mode.

"Hello!? You agreed? I am just generating ideas here."

"I think we all blew this out of proportion and did not consider risks... at all." Mingi interjected, massaging his temples.

"You guys, I have an idea-" Wooyoung began, but was quickly cut off by San, who was already half way out of the door.

"You know what? I am done with the ideas. I will just do what I think is right."

---

You were conflicted. In a way, you had gotten what you wanted. A confession from your crush that you had been quietly keeping in the shadows. But at the same time, your anxiety spiked. Were you that unapproachable that San had to have twisted everything to get to you? Was your work more entertaining than you could ever be?

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

If your presence was not explicitly required at the venue, you would not go. Once an event ended, you would leave. If anything, you were acting just like any employee would.

You were trying to bury the conflicting feelings that you were experiencing. To an extent, you felt disrespected. Like you had been mistreated via the means of 'i am using your translation services so you should love me'. And it was one unpleasant thought.

So, you stuck to what you knew and were more or less confident in. Words that were not yours. ideas that were not yours. Feelings that were not yours.

In a matter of an hour after the first small event, however, you could not sulk in your room how you wanted, thanks to a random slip of paper being shoved under your door. You ran across the room and slammed it open in an attempt to catch the culprit, but there was no one in sight.

You gingerly picked up the papers, and read. It was unmistakable. It was the next chapter of the book, with an interesting translation on another sheet of paper, and an additional note.

"I am sorry, and I can only hope that you will read this and let me fight. <3 San"

As much as you were ready to forgive him then and there, you decided that you wanted to see just how far he was going to go.

The next morning - another letter had arrived. The next chapter, a translation, and another note.

During filming for a morning show, San had shot you numerous glances in an attempt to see whether you were even reading what he had been Amazon Priming to your room, but with a cheeky smile dancing on your lips, you let your fun continue.

Another package.

And another.

And another. Until, finally, the last chapter had arrived. At least that was what you thought right up until the evening of the same day. You had assumed that it was going to now be your turn to act, or at least to start talking again, but a loud knock jolted you out of your thoughts.

And another.

And another knock on the door. This man was an unstoppable force.

"I... I translated the last one. Well, tried to."

"But there were only eleven stories-"

"Nope, twelve. Here."

You saw a two pieces of paper appear from under the door, just like before. Except instead of the Korean page being a scan from the book, it was evidently a document that either San... or somebody else, had typed up, and then managed to print.

To be respectful, you attempted to read the Japanese, but soon enough gave up since the kanji somehow managed to look cursive, and instead took the Korean text in your hands.

You took a seat with your back against the door and knees almost flush against your chest, and began to read, your heart rate picking up pace as soon as you saw "Dear Y/N,".

It began as a little story. A re-telling of how both of you had met, and how you had come to own a little space in his heart, eventually leading to him simply giving it to you.

"Did you know that you look so beautiful in those moments when you don't think anyone is watching? The more I think about it, the more I feel like it has been what had drawn me in. How you typed and typed on your phone. If time allowed, I liked to try guessing whether you were going to switch the keyboard at some point or not. How you were and are in your element. And of course, how you are, simply, you."

He recalled the moments that you two had shared. The levels of pride and admiration he felt when he saw you being approached and congratulated by the fans, and when he could take a moment to just enjoy what you did.

San moved to explaining 'the plan' to you, and though you were ready to scold him then and there (especially since there was the door between you that made confrontation easier), you could not help but admit that the general notion (aside from making affection and crushing on someone a monetary exchange - better not put feels on Etsy) was heartwarming.

As it turned out, both of you were shy dorks who could not act on feelings. Admittedly, one of you was a LOUD shy dork and the other a 'language is life but still can't read between the lines' shy dork, but at least you made it here.

San was a nervous wreck, barely stopping himself from either pacing up and down the corridor or going into a meltdown and lying face down on the carpet. He already looked suspicious enough as is, just standing by a random hotel number like a vampire who had been refused entry.

Or perhaps more accurately, like a cat who had been shut out of the house and was now desperately trying to claw its way back in.

But that stress was quickly washed away when your form suddenly appeared before him, peeking out, drowning in an oversized hoodie. The papers were still clenched in your hand as you motioned for San to come in.

You waited until he was right in the middle of the room before closing the door. Part of you was afraid that he was going to nope out at any moment. You needed the reassurance. The confidence that was normally there when you were working. But every fiber of your being was screaming in protest, wanting simply to hide.

You observed him. He looked like he was barely breathing.

"I... really I am... so sorry... again... I know that it was so fooli-"

"私でもあなたのことが好きだ..." (I like you too)

"eXCUSEME?!"

"All this translating and you still can't process?" you joked, but began to pull on the drawstrings of your hoodie in an attempt to make your face disappear.

"ohHH NoONOOO I just want to hear you say it in every language that you know!!!" San exclaimed and in a matter of seconds was inches away, peeking at what was not yet concealed by the fluffy cotton.

As he leaned closer and closer, flustering you (and himself) in the process and took both of your hands in his, in the last leap of bravery you whispered:

"Well that, you'll have to earn, San. And I don't take traditional currency."

"You will never let that go."

"Never ever, Choi San, it's a core memory now."

"Well hey at least it means you are not letting go of me~"

"Oh the way you twist words..."

"Like you twist me around your finger, not to give you an ego trip or anything..."

"It's 'wrap'. The correct word is 'wrap' around a finger."

"Okay you know what how about I translate it to body language?" he puckered his lips, making you giggle.

"As long as I don't need to correct grammatical errors."

"Now now I'd say I'm fluent."

The habit of sliding notes under your door or passing them to you did not stop - it only got stronger and became an 'any location', Mission Impossible note transfer agreement.

It had become something of a game, muddling languages together and writing near-nonsense just to sit there almost crying, trying not to laugh.

Soon enough, the game spread to Wooyoung, who would on occasion intercept the messages and add in his own flair, and soon enough to a curious Yunho and Mingi, who then turned it into impromptu paper plane throwing tournaments.

Really, the only reason why Hongjoong did not intercept was because you managed to at least keep the messages under strict PG rating and had good aim - with a saving swoop you had managed to return one such airmail right into San's lap during a fan sign, leading ATINY to give you an additional "aimbot" title.

It did not matter what the schedule was, you left each other encouraging notes (and without the other knowing, stored them away in your luggage).

"Good luck being the first one to get hair and makeup done..."

"Good luck with the translation deal on the book <3" (after an entire evening of a pouting and pleading San, you had reached out to the editors of the romance book you had translated for him, and now were in very promising negotiations)

You raced ahead, in time with each other, creating your own language.

The extended time ATEEZ had spent in Japan was coming to an end, and in the blink of an eye, it was the final concert. The "closing remarks", the epilogue.

You were prepared to interpret in full, as always. One member down. Another... finally, it was only San left. The other members were looking at him expectantly, while some sent glances in your approximate direction.

You took Hongjoong's tranquility and him nudging San in the shoulder as a sign that no, you will not have to pretend he said something different and double speak it - whatever he was about to do was, apparently, captain certified.

At that moment, San pulled out a note from a pocket that you had no idea even existed. The action seemed to have the same effect on ATINY as they "oooohed" - Yunho fake whispered into the microphone that San was now a part-time magician, so these things were the norm.

You had your microphone at the ready. With bated breath, you waited for San to begin. And that, he did.

In Japanese.

Grammatically correct, coherent and well-delivered Japanese.

Even though some of the phrases were obviously not his style and word selection, leading you to imagine him poring over this text like he was writing the declaration of independence with the boys, it was him. It was his feeling. It was his message.

Your arm fell to your side with a thud, and you were grateful that your microphone had been turned off for the time being. You caught yourself gaping, and had to forcibly compose yourself to reveal only a soft smile, as you took the scene in.

San was not exactly trying to hide that he was paying special attention to a specific part of the arena, with his body turned almost completely in your direction and only a few glances off to the sides and at the note.

"...and I hope that we will always be together, as one, and share this world. sometimes there may be struggle, there may be darkness, but WE," he makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if highlighting the area in front of him, but really it was just to, again, symbolise that certain someone at the forefront of his mind, "will last, and be the light."

The crowd roared, and you could allow yourself to internally combust as you watched ATEEZ wave, bow and bid their farewells.

Some things did not need a translation to be understood, and some things were not up for interpretation.

Like how San sprinted to you as soon as he was out of public sight. How he swept you off your feet both literally and metaphorically.

How Jongho muttered 'get a room', but still smiled at both of you when he passed by.

How, upon your return to South Korea, he had practically made it his mission to dote on you, and any moment he got, show that you were together.

Matching plushies? Check.

Basically exposing you both on Late Night Dive (though there was not really anything to expose because the entire ordeal was almost a live streamed ATEEZ drama)? Check.

Happily chatting away with ATINY about love and about finding it, sending loving stares your way? Check.

This was the love language you shared. No hiding, no scheming. Two native speakers, who found each other in translation.

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stirlinqs · 7 months

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being funny in a foreign language!

• WORD COUNT 1,065

• NOTE: nothing 18+ here! some parts of my text may be more descriptive than others but this is safe (pov guinevere is a mess and clearly cannot sustain relationships… ouch!)

• posted this from my ao3! (link here)

I sit in the back seat of my car.

I should be driving home. I should have my hands on the wheel, but I refuse. I stared out the window and allowed my hand to trace the glass. It’s chilly against the soft skin of my palm. When I brought my hand away, a cloudy mark became visible.

It’s simplistic and tasteless. Something about it made me smile.

New York is cold; the air is still, and the sky is navy blue, but there were specks of gold there, too.

The radio is on. I’m painfully quiet. I don’t mumble to myself. I barely even move. I chewed at my cheeks, eating away at the insides of my mouth. Small scabs cover the pinkish-orange skin of my lips. I bite at them, tear away, and hope they don’t bleed.

I curse at myself while sitting in the back. I punch at the headrest. I curl into a ball, my knees tucked closely to my chest. People walk by, they wander, and look on. Sometimes, while minding my business, I wish on the stars for someone to ask me how I am.

No one ever does.

Life, after a while of living, begins to feel suffocating. New York is no longer magical to me. The holidays become placeholders, not memory makers. Through it all, I miss him the most. It’s sour like a cherry picked fresh from the orchard. I miss the coffee stains, his laugh, and his messy notebooks filled with niche lyrics only I could understand.

I miss the caffeine highs and simple nights when all we did was drink.

Through the rubble, I miss his touch and how everything felt okay when he held me.

His band is performing at Madison Square Garden.

I had tickets.

I had planned on going, but I never showed up. Instead, I lingered in the parking lot.

Was I doomed to linger? Was I doomed to watch from the sidelines as he got on stage each night and forgot I had existed? Even if I had shown, would he have stopped and looked for me like he used to?

Things were different now, yet everything felt the same.

I was the same.

Before I climbed back into the front seat, I waited for the concert to end. I waited for people to pour out. It felt surreal. It felt bitter and confusing not being present, but I ignored that feeling for a wink. I pushed it deep down, stepping lightly on the gas and pulling my car around.

I drove past the empty tour buses parked on the side of the road. I slowed down briefly, scanning the backstage door. I contemplated parking my car and going up to it.

However, I didn’t have to.

While staring at it, he wandered out. A cigarette hung loose from his lips, slightly balanced by his fingers. I had made a total stop in the middle of the road, my hands holding onto the wheel of my car.

Before I could speed off, he spots me. He looks up and glares through my tinted windows. Ash falls from the cigarette, a trail of smoke following behind him as he walks up to my passenger side.

I roll down the window.

“How was it?” My words are careful.

“Okay,” he mutters. “There’s another show here tomorrow.”

“That’s nice.” My face is blank, the streetlights engulfing my car.

He thinly smiles, like he’s sure talking to me is a bad idea. “You didn’t show.”

“Was I supposed to?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, his curls moving with him. “No. I just thought you would’ve.”

I go to speak again, but he continues. “Ross asked where you were. I guess the guys aren’t used to it, you know? We went backstage for a moment. It felt like something was missing.”

“Nothing’s missing,” I reply. “Everything is in place.”

“It isn’t, Guin,” he says. There’s a sense of sternness in his voice. “You know that.”

“No,” I say. “It’s okay.”

His eyes are colorless, no longer brown and soft. “Guinevere, why are you sat out here?”

“I was driving home,” I lied.

He knows this isn’t true. My house is quite far from the venue. His eyebrows shift. “No.”

My lips part. “You don’t believe me?”

He puts slight pressure on his right foot, his hand above his hip. “You’re not a good liar.”

“I had pit tickets,” I mutter. “I didn’t end up going, sold it at the last minute.”

“Why?” He asked me.

“Look around, Matty.” My voice grows in volume.

For a moment, I pause. Everyone can hear us, even the people inside.

I adjust in my car seat. “Nothing’s simple anymore. There used to be some euphoric feeling being there and watching you, but it’s gone.”

“It’s not gone,” he says. “You keep running, Guin. If you’d just stop and face me, things wouldn’t be so fucking difficult to understand.”

I sigh, and he glares. Even if I focus on the road, I can still sense his eyes on me. His cigarette burns out, and he throws the butt onto the pavement. My hands are clammy. I remove them from the wheel of my car and let my sweater sleeves fall over them. Despite our current conversation, he grins. I cannot tell if it’s bittersweet or a parting message. “It’s late. Go home if you’re going. Or, you can stay. You can come inside with me.”

“I can’t, Matty.” I shake my head, my hair loose against my face.

Something on his face changes, like he’s stopped fighting for me. I can feel the shift in tone, his expression shadowed and dim. I frown. I want to go inside. I want to go up to him and say everything I haven’t been able to. I feel trapped in one spot, my body scarily still.

“Okay,” he replies. “Goodnight, then.” He turns around and walks toward the door.

Before he goes back inside completely, he lingers along the doorframe. I see him thinking something over, his eyes refusing to stay still.

After a brief moment, he lets the door shut behind him.

He disappeared into the concert venue, and I drove away without thinking.

It's sad. It makes me long for how we were just a year ago.

I know it's my fault, but maybe things can be different.

#matty healy #matty healy x oc #the 1975 #angst #ross macdonald #matty healy fic #being funny in a foreign language #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfiction #matty the 1975 #still at their very best #bfiafl #original character

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chand-ki-priyatama · 15 days

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@btw-its-tamanna

To the girl who is "DESIRED" by all....

To the girl jo meri "TAMANNA" hai....

Wishing you a very happy birthday Sakhi

This was the beautiful day when 16 years back this "APSARA" entered earth from the beautiful footsteps of heaven in order to make this mundane place earth somewhat beautiful with her lovely presence....

Starting off with how our friendship bloomed , it's somewhat true that the most beautiful relations are the ones which are most unexpected.... Our friendship has been a Rollercoaster of emotions , we saw many ups and downs , highs and lows but the thing which matters is that we always were and are by each other's side....

Life

It was always been doomed

I always had thousands of wounds

But finding you was like

Finding a shelter in the rain

Finding happiness in pain

Finding water in desert

And when I was divert

You came for me

And held me in a stride

Thus now I'll be always by your side ~Kaya

You are one of the most enchanting girl I have ever met , your angel like eyes see the good in many devils.... One of the most kindest being I have ever seen....

Sometimes you are "Teri aayi, main marjaavan , Zindadi naam tere kar jaavaan" and sometimes you are "Jo main raat hoon toh tu khwab haiJo main khaali panna, tu alfaaz hai"....

Words can't describe how much you mean to me , sometimes you feel as if you have no one but trust me you'll always have a sister figure in me , a friend in me , a girl who's the Elsa to your Anna , a girl who's Anya to your Becky , a girl who's Kaya to your Tamanna....

When I saw the video of your dance on Sawar loon I felt like "काली-काली ज़ुल्फ़ों के फंदे ना डालो हमें ज़िंदा रहने दो, ऐ हुस्न वालों"....

In your words "ek dum swarg se utri hui kokil kanthi apsara lag rahi ho"....

Sometimes I think are you even real cause you are so freaking perfect....

You feel like a daydream dressed in sunshine....

You feel like someone whom I can love and adore to death....

Although you'll always have a "Desirer" in me but I do hope you find your own desirer who'd desire you in ways you can't even think of , who'd love you till you are sick of it....

You are clearly a ray of sunshine in all of our lives and we all cherish and celebrate your existence....

You are the kind of person who's existence must be celebrated everyday and not on just your birthday cause you deserve every amount of love you get and even more....

I know sometimes you feel alone but isn't it the part of growing up , we lose our way , make new ones and navigate our way through a journey named life....

I hope this chapter 16 of your life opens up infinite possibilities , aspirations , and success in your life....

I really do hope that one day we get to meet and even go on a tour together....

You are one of the greatest friend I know and just know that I always am thankful to God for sending a sweet , beautiful and kind person into my life....

That'll be me and you in a few years....

Now I know you love the song Dil besabar by Iqlipse Nova and I love it too

So it will be a pleasure if you sing this song along side me....

"Naajane Mera Mann Kyun Hai Behka

Mujhse Hai Kehta

Tu Hai Jaha Hai Meri Duniya Bhi Wahi

Dil Yeh Besabar Bada Hai

Tere Peeche Pada Hai

Jaane Na Kya Hua Hai

Teri Deewani Ko"....

And now let's come to the gifts for our special birthday girl aka Apsara aka Tammu....

I couldn't do something very special so I did what I could

I wrote you a poem....

I don't know if you like it or not but this contains all my love for you....

Mind you that for this poem completely and utterly you were my muse....

Next I made you a playlist , it's a short one but I'll keep on adding songs to it...

Last but not the least I love you to the moon and back and I can do anything for you

I hope your special day is as special and wonderful as you are.....

So signing off pishachini

~With love always

-Kaya 💗

#Spotify #Tammuuuuu 🦋#Desiblr #desi aesthetic

11 notes · View notes

calpalirwin · 1 year

Text

New Beginnings

Summary: Avery Ryan wanted three things from life— love, her career, and to feel like she wasn't ever sacrificing one for the sake of the other. But was that even possible?

Word Count: 4.7k

Part 3

Avery pushed open the door to the bus, her yoga mat tucked under her arm. She was expecting to hear the rustling in the kitchen area of Ashton making breakfast and the smell of coffee dripping into the pot, a routine she’d grown accustomed to during these first few months of touring. A quiet morning spent alone with the man who silenced the butterflies while the world slept on around them. So, when she heard a “So, Avery, who’s your celebrity crush?” she stilled in her tracks.

No… no, no, NO! She knew that interview like the back of her hand, and the thought of Ashton seeing it made her cheeks turn the same color as her hair, and her heart race in her chest. Was it too much to wish for the ground to open and swallow her whole rather than continue to walk towards her doom?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A wave of warmth washed over Avery’s cheeks, and she giggled despite herself. “Oh, that question’s gonna get me in trouble,” Avery giggled again at the interviewer. She didn’t need to look over at Ajani to know that while she was rolling her eyes, Ajani had the same trouble-making grin on her face as their interviewer.

“Oh, c’mon,” the interviewer continued to goat. “The whole world knows that Avery Ryan was off the market before she became a household name. But we’re all human, right? We all got our celebrity crushes, don’t we?”

“Oh, we do,” Avery assured them.

“So?” the interviewer pressed.

“Ashton Irwin.”

Ajani busted into a fit of laughter beside Avery. “Little quick to answer that one, huh, Ace?”

“Oh, shut up!” Avery laughed with Ajani, covering her face with her hands. “Like anyone who says he isn’t at least one of their celebrity crushes is a liar.”

“Facts.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Avery heard a laugh that wasn’t Ashton’s she breathed a sigh of relief. “Morning, Mike,” she greeted, plopping down on the couch next to him. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah, wanted to catch Crystal before her day started. Catch her up on everything.”

“Mhm, a likely story,” Avery teased, tilting her chin at his phone.

He laughed again and clicked his phone shut. “Yeah, I was telling her about your and Ash’s relationship, and how you both seem at a stalemate. And she mentioned the video. Thought I’d give it a watch. You know this interview is four years old? Still true?”

Avery decided to go with honesty. She nodded.

Michael broke out in a grin. “So, do something about it. Make a move.”

Avery scoffed. “Why can’t he make a move?”

“Aren’t you a feminist?”

“Yeah…”

“So, why can’t you make the first move?”

“Because it’s…” her voice trailed off as she fought to find the right words. “It’s a long story,” she decided with a huff.

“Well better get to telling it before Ashton gets up.”

“So, the abridged version is that Drew— my ex— and I grew up together. He moved to LA first. We reconnected when I moved there. We started dating. Moved in together. Planned our lives together. Everything. But once things started taking off with the band, something changed. Like… I dunno, like he saw the band as something I was only going to do short-term. And he couldn’t figure out how the life we wanted with each other could fit with mine and Ajani’s dreams for Lucky Mess. He started picking fights about whether he could trust me out on the road. And then he cheated on me with his high school girlfriend while I was on the road. And there was no moving past that for either of us. I didn’t want to try to make it work after that. And even if I had, he chose her, so it didn’t matter.”

Avery saw Michael’s jaw tighten and she knew he had felt that similar pain in the past. As a musician, she assumed they all had at least one story like that. “Fuck…” he muttered. “And Ash? He knows?”

“He knows the basics. That Drew and I dated. That we broke up. And that Drew is now engaged to the girl he left me for.”

Michael whistled low. “That’s fucked.”

“Yeah. But Ash doesn’t know that we broke up because Drew cheated. And it’s not even that I’m still hung up on Drew. But the engagement happened literally the day we all started working together, so it’s like a new pain if that makes any sense.”

“No, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Yeah. And then he and his fiancée showed up at the beginning of the tour. And… I know in my head that Drew and Ash are not the same person. I know that I can trust Ash. But…” her voice trailed off.

“It’s a risk,” Michael said knowingly. “A risk that you got a fresh reminder of. But take it from someone who’s known Ash a long time. He’s going to put in the energy he wants returned. He won’t give ultimatums because he doesn’t want to get ultimatums. He won’t make his partner compromise on their dreams for his benefit because he doesn’t want to have to compromise on his dreams for theirs. Plus, he’s totally smitten with you.”

Avery smiled and rested her head affectionately on his shoulder for a minute.

“And how do you know all this stuff?”

“You think it was a typo you got to that pool party 2 hours ahead of everyone else?” His green eyes danced with mischief and trouble.

“That was you?!”

Michael laughed. “It was Cal, actually.”

“You’re much more observant than you let on, Mike. Should I be worried?”

“Nah. I only use my power for good. Pinky swear.”

They were still laughing when Ashton finally stumbled sleepily from the bunks. His shirt rode up as he raised his arms above his head in a stretch, his mouth dropping open in a yawn. Michael’s thumb swiped at the corner of Avery’s mouth. “Stop drooling,” he whispered low so Ashton couldn’t hear, winking as he did so.

She slapped his arm playfully, laughing loudly. “Can you blame a girl?”

“Oh, just make a move. Speaking of moves, wanna play chess? Playing against Luke gets old.”

“Love to,” she chirped.

Ashton watched as Michael pushed himself off the couch and started searching for something. “Videogames already Mike?”

“Nah, were playing chess,” Avery answered.

“Aw, I lost my morning buddy?” Ashton fake pouted.

“Seems like it,” Avery laughed.

“Sorry, mate,” Michael shrugged, his green eyes surprisingly apologetic.

“Nah, no worries. Might get breakfast made quicker without having to help the tiny one reach the plates and cups every two seconds,” Ashton teased, winking at the woman who rolled her eyes and scoffed. He laughed as he got breakfast going, and they set up their game.

“How’s it going?” he asked a little while later, sitting down beside Avery.

Her eyebrows were pulled together, her tongue poking out slightly in the corner of her mouth. “Good,” she said as Michael slowly moved a piece.

“Where’s mine?” Michael asked, looking at the two coffee cups and a large plate of food Ashton placed on the coffee table.

“Bread’s in the cupboard, eggs are in the pan,” Ashton told him while Avery took a bite from one of the pieces of toast, smiling at Ashton in thanks.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Your move,” he told Avery as he got up, muttering under his breath something vaguely that sounded like “And I don’t mean chess.”

If she heard Michael’s less than subtle second statement, she gave no indication. Instead, she wiped the crumbs from her mouth before reaching for her mug to take a sip, studying the board methodically. “Check,” she said, moving a piece and taking another bite of toast.

“Check?!” Michael asked bewildered, leaving his plate on the counter, and rushing back over to look at their game. He quickly moved his king out of harm’s way. “Uncheck!” he said, sticking his tongue out at her before going back to make his food.

“Actually, it’s checkmate,” she replied, moving to block his king in so he couldn’t move it. She leaned back against the couch, her side pressing into Ashton’s. He draped his arm over her shoulders and returned the smile she tossed his way. Ashton swallowed the urge to kiss the side of her temple, not wanting to ruin the soft moment they were creating.

This time Michael didn’t come running back. He just kept making his plate, shaking his head the whole while. “Rematch?”

“You’re on,” she grinned, quickly leaning forward to reset the board. Michael kept shaking his head, but this time Ashton didn’t think it had to do with him losing at chess.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s a great crowd out there,” Avery grinned at Ashton as she came off stage.

“You say that every time,” he told her as they stepped off to the side. Her hand found his heart, and his found hers, feeling it pound wildly with adrenaline.

“That’s cuz it’s true every time. Best fans in the world.”

“Every artist says that, too.”

“Again, that’s because it’s true. It’s fuckin incredible to be able to create something that people can relate to, and that they love it enough to want to relate to it.”

“Well, you’re pretty easy to love.”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened.

“Your work,” Ashton rushed, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. He couldn’t believe he just blurted it out like that… “Your work is easy to love. The way your mind works is beautiful to witness.”

Her cheeks flushed more, and she ducked her head. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “You’re pretty great yourself.”

They lapsed into silence, her heartbeat slowing to match the pace of his, the thoughts they wanted to voice trapped in their throats, eyes searching for understanding in the other. Out of all the tour rituals Ashton had, his rituals with Avery had become his favorite. There was a palpable ache in him to know that tour would end far too quickly for his liking. That one morning very soon he was going to have his morning coffee and not have her giggling at him from across the table. That these moments of finding stillness in each other’s beating hearts, reminding them that they were very much alive were limited. At first Ashton thought that he didn’t want to give it up because it was a hard transition going from the chaotic sound of touring to the deafening silence of being home. But the more moments he shared with Avery, the more he realized it was her that he didn’t want to give up.

Avery didn’t want to give Ashton up either. Ever since the second show, her attention had continued to drift to be centered on Ashton. She could only hope that her trust wasn’t being misplaced; that she wasn’t someone misreading all the signs. But in the middle of the doubt, there was reassurance. Reassurance, and the much-needed comfort that came from the predictability of her routine with him. And she appreciated his patience as she grappled with her lingering hesitation more than she would ever be able to properly express aloud. But maybe everyone was right. Maybe it was time to make a move. A clear, no-room-for-misinterpretation move.

When the stagehand came up to give Ashton a minute warning, Avery and him reluctantly stepped apart, their hands dropping to their sides. “Don’t forget to put your contacts back in after your shower,” he reminded her.

“Thanks,” she smiled softly. “Hey, Ash?” she asked as he started to turn away, her fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning back around. The hand on his wrist tugged Ashton downwards, while her other hand snaked around his neck. She stretched up on her toes and Ashton didn’t hesitate to meet her halfway. With one arm wrapping instinctively around her back, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, before cupping her face gently as their lips met. Electricity surged through him as the kiss went from tender and timid to hungry and passionate. And damn it all to hell, as quickly as they started, they had to stop.

“Break a leg, rockstar,” she breathed.

Ashton’s cheeks were already sore by the time he got behind his drum kit, every part of his body tingling. Whatever buzz he got from playing was nothing compared to the high of kissing her and the way she managed to be both completely in control while surrendering herself to him in the same breath. It was the confidence of a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to give in to those wants. And fuck if feeling wanted wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

I’ve got the best friends in this place,

And I’m holding on!

“Thank you! We’re 5SOS!” Luke shouted into the microphone.

“And we’re Lucky Mess! Good night. Houston!” Ajani finished.

They all took a bow and as they walked off, Ashton wrapped an arm around Avery, pulling her into him and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “You killed it, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, rockstar,” she beamed up at him. And he knew she meant the song, but he also knew she meant more than that. And Ashton couldn’t help himself. He spun her into him, both of his hands cupping either side of her face and kissed her the way they would have kissed each other earlier if they had more time. They giggled against each other’s lips as their friends whistled and whooped their encouragement. One of her hands left Ashton’s hair to bat them out of their way as they made a beeline for the bunks, collapsing onto the covers and into each other. There was no way in hell they were giving each other up now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no need to voice what Ashton and Avery became to each other after that night. It felt good to just know where the other stood without having to say a single word. To know that they could just be two people finding a stillness in the other in the form of warm coffee mugs, stolen kisses, hearts beating in time, and nights spent tangled up in each other.

“Seems like things are going pretty well with you and Ash,” Calum spoke up as they all hung around the bus on one of their nights off, not looking up from his phone. Ajani was next to him doing Luke’s makeup while Michael and Avery played chess at the kitchen table.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Avery answered, not bothering to look over at the man.

“Good, cuz the whole world knows. Someone posted that little smooch he gave you last week at our Houston show,” Calum explained.

“Oh?” Avery asked while Ajani snatched Calum’s phone from him with a “Gimme that!”

“Rank?” Avery asked her.

“Off the charts. It’s really good.”

“And what are people saying?”

“Good things,” Ashton’s voice told her before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Oh, look at you all dressed up,” Avery told him grinning. His hair was damp from a quick shower, a short-sleeved pink button-up unbuttoned to a dangerously low level, and black dress pants. “Got a hot date?”

“Yes?” he asked in a hopeful tone, the green and gold dancing in his eyes.

Avery laughed. “Alright. Let me go grab my things.”

“What about our game?” Michael asked, crossing his arms.

“Hmm…” Avert looked at the chessboard, her tongue clicking in her cheek. “Checkmate,” she shrugged, moving one of her pieces and ending the game.

Michael’s green eyes blinked once before going wide. “How?! How do you always win?! Luke, stop getting pampered and come play with me!”

Avery laughed more as she got up from her seat and grabbed Ashton’s hand in hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This is actually really nice,” Avery told Ashton as they walked around downtown. “To do something we’d be able to do if we were home.”

“Complete with slack-jawed strangers,” Ashton joked, jerking his chin at the people whispering and pointing as the two of them walked by.

Avery laughed, pushing his shoulder. “Oh, be nice. At least no one’s alerted the press yet. Did you ladies want a picture?” Avery asked, turning around to the group of about five or so young women. They’d been following the pair for about the last block or so, trailing about fifty feet behind, giggling as they tried to gather the courage to speak up.

“Oh, my God, could we?!” one of them asked, while the others dug around for their phones.

“Yeah, of course.” Avery waved them over.

“So, are you guys like dating?” another one of them asked nervously as they started taking pictures.

“Yeah,” both Ashton and Avery answered, smiling at each other.

They continued to make small talk as pictures were taken. Then the group of women thanked the couple for their time and wished them well with the rest of tour.

“So, dating, huh?” Avery teased as they started walking again.

“You said it too,” he reminded with a giggle.

“Well, it’s the truth, right?”

“Course it’s the truth.”

“And it’ll still be the truth when we get back home, and all this goes away?” Avery asked, biting into her lower lip. She was realizing now that she hadn’t wanted to have the conversation of labeling what they were not because she was secure in what they had, but because she wasn’t. She didn’t want to hear the truth if the truth was that this meant more to her than him.

“Hey, look at me,” he said, stopping and spinning their bodies so they faced each other.

Avery held her breath as he leaned down and she stretched up on her toes to help him close the distance. His lips found hers, then her cheek where he licked a long stripe up the side of her face. “Ashton!” Avery squealed. “The fuck did you lick me for, you fuckin weirdo?!”

“There!” he grinned in triumph. “I licked you, so you’re mine now.”

“I am my own person, thank you very much, sir,” she grumbled, wiping at her face.

He giggled, “But?”

Avery grabbed his hand and sloppily licked the top of it. “But, if we’re marking things as ours, you’re mine, too.”

They were still giggling when they started to walk back up to the venue, finding paparazzi milling around. “You good?” he checked, pulling Avery closer to him.

“Are you?” she countered playfully. “Ash, it’s just some people with cameras. I’m used to this, or did you forget that your girlfriend also happens to be a talented musician?”

“I could never forget that.”

“Ashton! Avery!” they called out as the drummers got closer, cameras flashing. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Probably having a quiet night in,” Avery shrugged.

“And where are you guys coming from?”

“Just getting back from our date,” Ashton told them.

“Date?! Are you guys dating now?!”

“Yep,” they both answered. “Enjoy your night, guys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Between the kiss at the Houston show, and the run-in with both fans and the paparazzi a week later, the news of Ashton and Avery dating spread like wildfire. So, when Avery's phone rang a few weeks later with a number she recognized despite deleting, she was slightly taken aback but not completely shocked.

Avery knew she should decline the call, but she hit accept. “Hello?”

“Hey, Av. You got a minute to talk?”

“I answered the phone, didn’t I?”

Drew let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you set aside the anger long enough to listen to what I have to say?”

“What’s left to say?”

“A lot, actually. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since LA. Seeing you again… I just miss you. I miss watching you in your element. I miss… everything. Everything about what we were. What we had. And I know I’m the one who fucked everything up. I made my peace with that a long time ago. But I want to try and stop myself from making another mistake. So, I broke up with Madison. Because I realized I didn’t want to give her the life I wanted to have with you. And… I guess I’m saying that life is still yours if you want it.”

“You are… unbelievable. You had years to realize this. Years to have this conversation with me. So, the fact that you’re having it now that you see me finally moving on—"

“I know,” he cut her off. “If I’m the villain in your story… That’s on me.”

She sighed. “You’re not the villain in my story. We just weren’t meant to be, and I finally learned why.”

“I really am sorry for how our story played out. And I wish you nothing but the best. I hope you can at least believe that much.”

“Thank you. And for what it’s worth, you’re not giving Madison my life by being with her. So go rectify that mistake while there’s still time. Bye Drew.”

“Bye Av.”

The line went dead, and Avery wiped at her face in irritation, letting out a small scream as she did so.

“You good?” Michael asked. With everybody off doing their post sound-check/pre-show routines, Avery had almost forgotten Michael was seated a few feet away from her playing on his Switch.

“Life would be a lot easier if you could just hate some people, you know?”

Michael laughed and set the game aside. “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be you. So, he saw the pictures of you and Ash and finally realized he lost you for good, huh?”

“I swear do you guys just operate from the same script?” Avery asked as she moved to plop down beside him on the couch. She was grateful it was Michael instead of Ajani who had overheard the phone conversation with Drew. As much as Avery loved her best friend, she didn’t need a reminder that she was stupid for wasting any amount of energy mourning the man who had single-handedly blown up any future they might have shared.

“Yeah, we get this nifty little instruction booklet once we hit puberty. The ‘call her up and beg for a second chance once she’s moved on’ is right between ‘break her heart because you’re intimidated by her success’ and ‘what to do when she gives you a taste of your own medicine.’”

Avery laughed, then sighed. “Is it bad that I don’t hate him? I mean I hate what he did. But I don’t think that makes him a bad person. A bad ending doesn’t mean it was a bad story, you know?”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I think breakups get a bad rep. That they’re these pressure cookers of angst. That the only way to ever get over it is to learn to hate them. But I think that’s a bunch of crap. Like some relationships don’t work. Doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the good anyway.”

“Sometimes I still think it’d be better if I could hate him, though. So, I don’t feel like this…”

Michael furrowed an eyebrow. “Uh-oh… can I not be your friend anymore because you’re about to break Ash’s heart? Man, I really liked having another only child friend to hang out with, too.”

“What? No!” Avery laughed. “God, no. I love Ash.”

“You do?!”

Avery blushed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Have you told him?”

“I don’t know how. Plus, I’m scared. What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Michael snorted. “For one thing, I doubt that. Ash is completely head over heels for you, trust me. And for another, aren’t you a musician?”

“Yeah?”

“So, we got a whole stage full of instruments to help you tell him. Or I can distract you by being really bad at chess while you work up the nerve.”

Avery laughed again. “You’re actually a pretty decent chess player. You’ve just been playing against a really bad one for years, but don’t tell Luke I said that.”

Michael laughed with Avery. “Alright. Should I set up the board then?”

“Think I’m gonna give that talking through music thing a try first,” Avery told him, standing up and patting his leg. “But set it up anyway and we’ll try to squeeze in a game before we go on?”

“Deal. And hey, Avery?”

“Yeah?”

“I know putting your faith in someone new is hard. Especially after what you’ve been through. But don’t let that fear make you push Ash away. I don’t want to have to pretend to not like you.”

“You’re a good friend, Mike.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ashton’s heart was racing in his chest as he caught his breath at the top of the stadium stairs. Fuck, this shit was steep. He used his arm to wipe the sweat off his face and when he turned to jog back down, he saw Avery making her way across the top of the stage.

Ashton frowned. Normally at this time she was tucked away on the bus, reading her way through the thick completed collection of Sherlock Holmes.

Ashton could see her pick up a guitar and start playing, but he couldn’t make out what it was as he started to jog back down the stairs.

I think that I’m all-in.

You’re perfect.

God, I need you.

Just say you need me too.

Her voice rang out. Why did she sound like someone just broke her heart? Ashton jogged faster down the stairs, jumping the last three at the bottom, his sneakers slamming into the concrete floor.

And I want you every night, to wrap my arms around you.

Say it a thousand times.

Come closer, oh come closer.

Maybe it’s a little too much. Whoa.

The more she sang, the less he recognized. Curious, and a little worried at the sudden burst of inspiration, he stopped, waiting for her to finish and notice him.

I don’t wanna fuck this up. Whoa.

I don’t wanna say too much. Whoa.

But I think, I think, I think.

I think I’m in love.

“Hey,” he said, smiled up at her. “Is that true?”

“Hey.” She returned the smile soft and a little sad.

“Is that true?” he repeated, nodding at her guitar. “What you were just singing?”

Her lips quivered as she nodded, a tear sliding down her face. She sniffed, quickly wiping the tear away. “Yeah.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Ashton braced his hands against the stage floor, hoisting himself up. “Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?” He kept his voice soft as he moved to stand by her.

“Because… Drew…” Her voice shook, the doubt taking over.

“What about Drew?”

“He cheated. That’s how our relationship ended. And I’ve spent the past two and a half years trying to figure out how to get past that. And then with you… Everything has been effortless. So different from everything I’ve experienced before. In the best of ways. So, when it came to letting myself love you… I’m powerless to stop it. It’s like loving you was something I was always destined to do. And that terrifies me. It terrifies me how easy it is for me to love you. Because if you don’t feel the same… The only thing I ask of you is that when you break my heart, you do it nicely.”

“That’s not fair,” he chuckled softly.

“What’s not fair?”

“You don’t get the first kiss and the first I love you.”

“You love me?” Her voice came out small.

Ashton wrapped his arms around Avery, pulling her into him, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Of course, I love you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, seeing the swirling shades of green in her eyes that have transformed his life every day for the last eight months. “And I’m scared, too. I don’t ever want to fuck up what I have with you. Because you… Avery, you are worth everything I’ve been through. All of it, the good and the bad. And I want to keep facing everything with you, even if it’s scary. Because you’re my new beginning.”

Avery giggled, nudging her nose affectionately against Ashton’s. “That might be the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Ashton kissed her sweetly. “It doesn’t make it any less true. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, rockstar.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @kaitieskidmore1 @binxiboo @victoria432stuff @maedesculpaeusoubi @hfkait

#new beginnings #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton x oc!female #5sos #calpal irwin

18 notes · View notes

goldenpinof · 1 year

Note

So Dan started doom touring llp in partnership with his management company and to me this all really feels like a lot of bad communication and hostility between the two them.

Dan didn't fufil his obligations to promote the show at the beginning, there was almost a month gap between the two Soho shows and Dan doing any other promo which seems like a really bad choice given that the tickets sales were worrying. He bitched about how his management were making him do DD and then he didn't upload them nearly as often as he was promising despite it being the best way to drive sales. He's trying to make up for it now I guess but he's still not released stuff he's been promising which would have helped with promotion.

Now that it seems inevitable that they aren't going to make as much as they were hoping his management team is clearly just trying to cut costs and claw back everything they can and Dan isn't in full control because he doesn't own the company and he can't just make demands and get his way. It could be that they have just cut him out of these decisions since he's obviously going to push for things that aren't going to make money.

I'm not doubting that Dan has been treated poorly but I does make sense given that the tatinof and ii companies were owned by himself and Phil that he really isn't used to working in an environment where he has somebody to answer to. I remember there were a few YouTuber reactions to WIQY that pointed out that he was clearly inexperienced with working with a big company and seemed like he expected things he wasn't owed.

I honestly believe that Dan went in knowing that he wasn't going to make much money from this and just expected that his management team were going to go along with what he wanted because that's what he's used to. Remember he said that they didn't make any money on any of the Asia shows they did for II but still went because they wanted to see everyone, well if you're working with a company who is looking to make a profit then that just isn't going to happen.

Dan clearly has issues with control, it feels really strange to me that he went all in with II and then when it came to his personal 'dream' project he pawned off half of the costs and responsibility on someone else and was surprised when things didn't go his way. All this could have been avoided from the start.

I'm not saying that Dan is fully to blame, but I am saying that he got himself into a situation that is less than favourable. If he'd put in more effort at the start I would be more sympathetic to him but it seems too little too late and now he has to face the consequences. Just not a fan of the whole *wow Dan keeps getting screwed over* narative when it does always seem to be similar problems that cause things to go wrong and Dan continues to make those mistakes.

wow, hold on, i wish we talked in dms. just because i have many questions that are probably gonna be ignored here.

*if i don’t comment on something big, i probably agree with you to a certain extend and have nothing to add*

fuck. don’t ask me why but i never went to look wtf was going on with dnp’s companies. he really did open a new one. roughly speaking, Dan holds 75% of the company votes and surplus assets, am I seeing it right? (roughly, because there’s no word about actual shares). i thought he would just work with promoters as Dan Howell Limited.

hostility? why would his management agree to open a new company if they weren’t planning to make an effort to make it work? same goes for Dan.

you’re starting with saying that Dan didn’t fulfil obligations at the beginning. but how do we know that? how do we know that there WAS, in fact, a marketing strategy proposed by his management or promoter that he agreed to but dismissed along the way? the Soho shows were too “closed off” for general audience (remember it was sold out before Dan even posted about it. nice start, but whose fault is that). i don’t really have a strong opinion on the videos of the show he uploaded to his 2nd channel but i don’t think they helped a lot. maybe it should have been less but longer cuts, idk.

“then he didn't upload them [dd] nearly as often as he was promising despite it being the best way to drive sales” - i have to disagree with that. he should have started uploading earlier, that’s obvious. but the pacing is actually borderline too fast. too many videos in a short period of time after 4 years of silence. i feel fed up, for example. i need something to dilute this stream of monotonous content (using big words here, ugh). after dd announcement he made clear that it’s not daily and we shouldn’t expect him to follow any pace. fair, whatever. (where did he bitch about his management forcing him to do dd? i genuinely don’t remember and don’t feel like rewatching all videos to find it. can you, please, give a hint? i really wanna hear it iurgewfsdfdies) big agree that by not uploading the memes video and for some reason cancelling or postponing their collab with Louise he damages himself. now the memes video needs an extra editing because of Iceland (if he won’t get rid of the promo scene at all at this point).

“It could be that they have just cut him out of these decisions since he's obviously going to push for things that aren't going to make money.” - if that’s true then what does 75% mean? usually management works FOR an individual, not vice versa. if he doesn’t have any shares of this LLP then why does he have so many rights in voting? they can’t cut him. he is co-founder and i bet his own money is on the table (maybe not the biggest % but still). i agree that there could be misunderstanding, miscommunication, lots of panic when they saw the 1st numbers, and stubbornness. considering all, the UK leg went well. they failed with the US/Canada big time. they tried to give it an extra boost with that map reel and a clip in a dystopia daily episode but, let’s be honest it wasn’t the best format for such a big chunk of shows. (remember the US promo for ii? something with Phil’s shirt with the map of USA. it’s been 5 years and i still remember. says something.) if you think they are cutting expenses (agree) and shutting Dan off, why would they not try to save at least those shows that are not cancelled? why does Dan take graphic images in his hands? surely the promoter has a marketing department that made the 1st images, what’s the problem with using it now? a bit off top: i think Dan convinced/forced them to not cancel Helsinki and Amsterdam. in Helsinki half of m&gs tickets are still available, like wtf. there’s literally no point of the 2nd show if people can travel to nearby countries and fill their venues. the same goes for the 2nd Amsterdam show. Antwerp is right there! with about 30% available.

“he really isn't used to working in an environment where he has somebody to answer to” - he is not used to work with someone who he has to depend on. with bbc radio 1 it kinda worked because it initially wasn’t Dan’s baby so the boundaries were set firmly. his tours are a different thing. from Dan’s perspective he can do whatever he wants because it was his idea and they all are here making some kind of money BECAUSE of him (and Phil, if all tours combined). and he’s got a point. but he started aiming for things he can’t swallow. it’s not disastrous though. about WIQY and YouTube Red: you have to agree that ghosting someone for months is unprofessional no matter how big you’re. there were ways to warn him that his project may never see the light of day on Youtube without breaking NDAs (was there even an NDA if Dan could make a video pointing fingers at YouTube specifically?). i bet they knew that he has put everything on the table and stopped doing other profitable things to focus on this big project that he was promised to get done. it wasn’t wise to go for all or nothing with one thing but whatever, i hope he learned that.

where the fuck did they say that they didn’t make money on ANY shows in Asia? Phil said that they lost money in Manila. (genuine question, because i don’t remember that)

“Dan clearly has issues with control, it feels really strange to me that he went all in with II and then when it came to his personal 'dream' project he pawned off half of the costs and responsibility on someone else” - ii was sponsored, it wasn’t his money. they still had to make a powerpoint to get Rize on board. it was still a partnership, with dnp doing their promo for Rize no matter how tired they were or how bad the internet or the app were. good side? we got lots of joint liveshows :) now it seems like some companies “invested” in this tour alongside with Dan. and they want their money back rfdhewdisk they will get it, come on, it’s not THAT bad. it’s just messy.

#people who are like 'i'm not reading all that' i envy you #if i messed up with some facts feel free to correct me! facts. not accumptions #answered #wad 2022 #phandom

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orpheusredux · 2 years

Text

Into The Vale of Vecna

Fic Summary: Eddie becomes a rock and roll legend after saving the world, being eaten by bats and flunking out of High School for the third time. Here's how it happened.

Fic Rating: Kind of mature? I dunno.

Pairing: Eddie/OFC, Eddie/His Whole Life Ahead Of Him

Warnings: The is pure fix it headcanon.

Tunes: Into the Vale of Vecna - The Album!

A/N: I don't know who made the original edit, but I really wish I did. If someone lets me know I will credit and reblog and do whatever you need to make it up to you. I couldn't help but use it to make the magazine cover, so I hope it's OK.

So, the minute Eddie gets out of hospital he packs up the van, moves to New Jersey and starts working the metal clubs up and down the coast, hard out. He ends up livings in the van for a couple of weeks, and it's shitty at first, but then he gets a foot in the door and things start looking up. There is almost no job too small or degrading he will not do for the bands, and he gets a rep as the go-to kid on the New Jersey scene.

Like, you want weed, Eddie's got weed. You want someone to step in and play bass because your bassist overdosed and now he's in rehab, Eddie will play bass for you. You want to snork an ounce of Bolivia's finest off a willing hooker's tush, Eddie knows every working girl and dealer in the Tri-state area and they all love him. The only thing he won't do is ferry groupies back stage, because gross.

So anyway, he eventually ends up working Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet tour, lugging amps and cracking stages, and he is in hog hair metal heaven.

Then one day, out on the road, Jon Bon Jovi himself overhears Eddie tuning a guitar he almost certainly should not have been tuning - like, there is a guy whose whole entire job is to tune guitars for Richie Sambora and he will literally break your hands if he catches you touching those guitars. Eddie is scared to death of him, but he also has terrible impulse control, so here we are - and playing Stairway to Heaven as all metallers are contractually obligated to do whenever they pick up a new guitar, and Jon Bon's like, "Shit, kid, you can play."

And Eddie's like, HOLY SHIT JVB IS INTO IT, but he says, "Oh, yeah, you know... I dabble." and wiggles his fingers around like it ain't no big thing that he just played Stairway To Heaven in front of JVB like a fucking boss.

And then JVB's like, Jesus, this kid is cocky, but he says, "Whatever, give this guy a call when we get to LA. He's working on an album and they're looking for session musicians."

The name on the card says Rick Rubin.

So, when the tour ends in LA, he calls Rick fucking Rubin and he's like, "hey man, Jon said to look you up when I got into town, yeah we're just wrapping up the tour...", totally bullshitting harder than he has ever fucking bullshit anyone in his whole life, because he asked around and this Rubin guy could be his ticket to something very cool.

It works, and Rubin's like, "Meet me at the Whiskey tonight, I'll put your name on the door", and Eddie just about creams his shorts.

Like, he has $5 and stick of gum to his name (he's been sending his tour pay checks back to Wayne, so he can get the fuck outta that trailer park of doom), he doesn't know where the fuck he's sleeping tonight but he's got an appointment with Rick Rubin at the fucking Whisky A Go Go, which is his spiritual home so... things might be looking up.

He gets there and it is basically the debauched Babylon of his fucking dreams. There's a line like ten miles long, but he remembers Rick said he'd put his name on the door, so he saunters past an assortment of LA's finest hair metal acolytes without a care in the world.

(They are unamused and some of them tell him so, to which Eddie blows kisses as he passes because he is in full fake it till you make it, bitch, mode.)

When he gets to the front of the line, however, he is confronted by a woman with the clip board like no woman - with or without a clipboard - Eddie has ever seen with his actual eye balls outside the pages of Playboy fucking Magazine before.

Her face is like one of those freaky but hot Patrick Nagel paintings, like she is more than merely beautiful, she is statuesque, and her skin looks like it's made from molten toffee, and she's wearing a skirt that is about one inch longer than being a belt and her legs like they are carved from caramel marble.

Like, Eddie has always be a tit man, he loves the boobies. Loves them. But he can feel a conversion coming on when he sees that skirt and her thighs in that skirt. Holy shit.

Anyway, she gives him the biggest, brightest smile as he walks up to her, and he's like... dazzled. But before he can say anything, the musclebound giant standing next to her - bouncer, thinks Eddie, mentally rolling his eyes - asks him if, 'Mommy knows he's out past curfew'.

Eddie's been on the road for a while, and he knows his way around d-bags like this, so instead getting all dick hurt about it, he just shrugs and says, "yeah, yeah, very funny, I'm 12, right."

And then ignores him, instead turning the full power of his puppy dog baby browns on the woman of his dreams, and says. "Hi Princess, I'm Eddie and, ah, Rick said he'd put me on your list."

He's kind of waiting for her to say, "Fuck off, loser", because in all honestly she probably should say that. But instead she smirks and says, "Well hellll-o, Eddie, I've been waiting for you to show up all night."

Eddie just about has a heart attack, because he once watched a porno with Rick - his Rick, Reefer Rick, from back in Hawkins, obviously - that started almost exactly like this, and now all the blood in his head is plunging straight out of his brain and into his dick.

But unlike the porno, she doesn't rip off her top and let him motorboat her (it was a really lame porno, OK?), she just sticks her hand out to the bouncer and says, "Pay up, Jimmy," and Jimmy the bouncer says something like, "aw shit, Tawny, really?".

Without taking her eyes off Eddie, she just clicks her fingers at the big oaf until he finally slaps what looks like ten bucks in her hand.

"List says 'Eddie Munster for Rick Rubin'," she says, tucking the ten into her cleavage, which means Eddie can legitimately look at her cleavage without worrying she's going to stab him in the eye with her long red nails. He doesn't look too long, but he does look.

"Jimmy here said you were gonna be some vampire-looking mother fucker from England, I said you were going to be a good clean Metal Boy. Looks like I won."

Eddie blinks a few time, and because his brain is a goddamned traitor, he says: "It's, ah, it's Munson. My name. I'm Munson, not, ah, Munster. That is funny though. Eddie Munster. Like the thing, the kid from the TV. Do you have a TV?"

She just laughs like he said something actually funny and not whatever the fuck that was and winks at him, and it's so goddamned cute Eddie considers just changing his name to Munster if it'll make her keep smiling at him like that. Anyway, she lifts the red velvet chord to let him past, and as he does she leans in and whispers, "Break a leg, Tiger," right into his goddamned ear, and Eddie just about creams hid fucking shorts again.

Inside, it's like the last fucking days of Rome or something. There's probably only about a 200 people in the joint, problem is there's only room for 100 of em. There are girls in string bikinis up on the shoulders of long haired greasers. There are gangs of bikers wearing dark glasses inside - the only people with any space around them because they radiate violence - there are quartets of men wearing heavy, garish make up, their hair teased up to frankly absurd heights. A woman with fried, white blond hair, in studded leather, has just finsihed a set, and carrying a jet black Warlock, she jumps down off the stage and fights her way through the crowd to the stairsat the back of the room.

A DJ kicks in straight away and the music is relentless, pounding acid metal, followed by hard rock, followed by thrash.

In short, there are freaks and weirdos covering every imaginable surface, and Eddie feels, possibly for the first time in his life, like he is precisely where he was meant to be.

He makes his way over the to bar and shouts to the bartender that he's looking for Rick, and the guy just point's straight up, so Eddie finds the stairs and heads up to the balcony where he has to give his name to another couple of bouncers, and then he's in the VIP bar at the Whiskey. Holy shit.

It's kind of early, so there aren't a lot of people there. There are groups at a couple of tables, and the blond with the Warlock is leaning on the bar next to a big guy with a massive greaser beard, who's laughing at something she just said.

Eddie has a hunch that that's Rick, so he heads for them, and then gets an attack of nerves, so he just stands there chewing his thumb, kind of awkwardly. Finally, the woman turns and leans back, elbows on the bar, one knee bent, and that's when Eddie realises why she'd looks sort of familiar. It's Lita fucking Ford.

She gives Eddie a long, slow look up and down, and says, "Ricky did you order me a snack?"

Rick laughs and says, "Sorry, Lita, honey. I think this is my guest."

"Pity," the Amazonian Goddess says as she pushes herself off the bar and walks over to a banquet where some more of those make up wearing big hair guys are lounging, and joins them.

Eddie, bless his heart, is so fucking stunned he can't get it together to say anything smart back because Lita Ford for fucks sake.

Luckily, he has no such trouble with Rick, who is a surprisingly mellow dude.

He ends up talking to him for hours about the bands they love and shows they've seen. They stop to watch the bands play, and Rick will ask his opinion after each short set.

"They're solid in the back, man. That drummer is killer, but the vocals are weak as shit," Eddie says and he can see straight away that he's said exactly what Rick was thinking.

They share a couple of whiskeys, and a beer - Rick's buying, so Eddie's drinking - and then this fucking noise just explodes from the stage, and Eddie forgets the word "beer" even exists as this wailing, driving cacophony fills the club.

There's this guy on stage with long black hair, a frilly white shirt and leathers. His voice is like a siren call, a primal scream, wailing, in all the best ways. Behind him is this pounding, rolling guitar played by a Viking in double denim, and Eddie's mesmerized.

"I don't know what the fuck a Love Removal Machine is," he says to Rick, half dazed. "But I know I want one."

"Well, alright then," Rick says, nodding like he's just signed Eddie up to a Love Removal Machine subscription.

Eddie finally tears his eyes away from the stage, turns to Rick and says, "Ok, who is that?"

"That," Rick replies with a smirk. "Is your future."

***

Rolling Stone, August 20, 1989:

Munson's big break came as a gun-for-hire on The Cult's 1987 breakthrough LP, Electric, a gig he got through an unlikely friendship with Hip Hop producer Rick Rubin.

"It was pure madness," says Munson, leaping up from the sofa in his hotel suite overlooking Hollywood and Vine, to stalk around the room, hands flying as he talks - there is something ironically electric about the guitarist and vocalist Ronnie James Dio once called "the future of Rock". He can't stay still for more than a minute.

"One minute I'm running for my life in Hawkins, the next thing I'm playing rhythm guitar with Billy Duffy in front of 80,000 screaming kids. It was wild.

"Tawny [Downe, lingerie model, former Playboy Bunny and Munson's wife of three months] says it was all meant to be, but I paid a pretty big price to be so 'blessed'. I still got the scars."

He means that literally.

The price, the Once Bitten, Twice Dead singer says, included growing up trailer park poor in Hawkins, a tiny town in the middle of Indiana, population 31,000, and a torso littered with an astonishing and unnerving collection of scars. Scars he's happy to show us, but less happy to talk about.

"Don't let the fact it's a shit hole in the middle of butt f*** nowhere fool you," Munson says. "Hawkins is a Hellmouth just waiting to gobble kids up.

"Every song I write is about what went down there, just me trying to make sense of it. And it always comes back to one thing: Hawkins is a waking nightmare."

It may sound like Rock Star myth-making and hyperbole, but Rolling Stone can reveal Munson was a person of interest in the infamous Hawkins Ripper serial killer case of 1986.

Although exonerated, its clear Munson still bears the burden of what went down three years ago in that tiny town.

"Shit happened, man. I could tell you exactly what, but you won't believe me."

Munson and Hellfire Club's second LP, Into the Vale of Vecna, is number one on the Billboard Rock Charts as we go to press.

A/A/N: So I have watched, read and listened to a lot of 80s stuff, I am a HUGE 80s hair metal fan and I just really wanted to pile almost everything I know about that scene in the late 80s into a fic about our Metal Prince. Obviously a lot of this is made up. I don't know if Rick Rubin ever hung out at the Whisky or the Troubadour like some Musical King Pin, and he certainly wasn't there recording The Cult, he was in the UK, but that's how it goes in this universe.

#eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie lives #stranger things s4 #fake band #fake interview #hair metal #80s hair metal #eddie the rock star #headcanon

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married-to-google-translater · 3 years

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Imagine the mess if Mc had a boyfriend in the human world but they broke up when Mc went on an exchange to study at Devildom. Maybe Mc didn’t want a long distance relationship.

However, if a boyfriend would later become an exchange student at Devildom and believe they would continue their relationship with mc. But Mc has already started a relationship with the undateables

Obey me brothers are here

Simeon

" I'm sorry but Mc is already in a relationship with me. However, I hope we can all be friends. "

Well Simeon is an angel.

He really believes you can all be friends and get along with each other.

And his faith does not waver easily.

Let’s hope your boyfriend isn’t an asshole who mocks Simeon.

Because if they are they have to face the rage of Luke and the Simeon simps.

It doesn't end well.

Otherwise, Simeon is really happy and respectful.

he and your ex boyfriend can sit down to have a tea and chat about the fun stories that have happened to you.

It's a really weird sight...

Best to get used to it.

However, Simeon wouldn't want to give up on you.

He is trying to show how happy you are now with him.

Only Simeon is able to create a good distance between his partner’s ex boyfriend.

He is too pure.

Diavolo

" Mc, why are you looking at me strangely? I just welcomed your ex boyfriend to hell. No I don't emphasize the word hell in any weird way. Right Barbatos? You see Barbatos agrees with me."

Well Diavolo is really not excited about this.

He didn’t make that powerpoint presentation “What good would it do for both of us if we started dating” in vain.

However, this is not a big problem.

Or he's the prince of Devildom...

Diavolo makes sure you and your ex end up in a different dorm "by accident."

You also end up "accidentally" in parallel classes.

He also "accidentally" ask you to marry him so your ex boyfriend sees it.

( Diavolo is pretty adept at making "accidents" right? )

No one knows if he’s doing this because he’s worried or if he’s just enjoying the bullying of that poor soul.

I guess the latter option.

And if all goes wrong Diavolo could kick your ex boyfriend out of the exchange student program because of “bullying”.

Hypocrisy is always an option in the field of politics

Barbatos

Barbatos finds it very difficult to hold back his laughter when your ex boyfriend wishes him luck in this “fair” fight.

The battle with the demon-butler who sees the future is certainly not fair.

He thinks your ex boyfriend’s trying are entertaining.

(Because Barbatos is a sadist and he enjoys having your ex boyfriend put a lot of effort into attempts that are doomed to fail before they even try them.)

He 100% sure knew your ex boyfriend was going to devildom from the beginning of your relationship.

If your ex boyfriend's tea accidentally shows poison it's "not" his fault.

Outside Barbatos is really polite and friendly.

He will kindly arrange a tour of hell for your ex boyfriend.

If your ex boyfriend agrees they will never return to their former state and become the most faithful follower of God.

" Don’t be angry dear I just wanted to introduce the Devildom to your ex. I promise to pay for their therapy. It was a joke dear they don’t really need therapy."

Solomon

Solomon would offer the biscuits he baked himself to your ex boyfriend when they first met.

Anyone who doesn’t know Solomon thinks it’s a friendly gesture.

Anyone who knows Solomon knows that it is a declaration of war.

( This time, Solomon was genuinely trying to cook badly. Solomon is also the only one who notices the difference in taste. For others, it’s as horrible as his normal cooking.)

Indeed, he already knows that the new student is your ex boyfriend.

No one knows how but Solomon just knows.

He might show a couple of "magic tricks" to your ex boyfriend.

Don’t be surprised if after that your ex boyfriend is a talking frog.

This frog cannot be turned into a human by kissing.

It will take at least a week for Solomon to get your ex boyfriend back.

Isn't that sad?

"Mc I already said it was an accident. Don't think about it too much. Look I made you muffin you want to taste it?"

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me imagine #obey me imagines #obey me headcanon #obey me headcanons #diavolo #diavolo x reader #Simeon #simeon x reader #solomon #solomon x reader #barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me!#diavolo imagine #solomon imagines #barbatos imagine #Simeon imagine

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Toxicity - ao3

- part 2 -

The situation with the Wen sect continued to deteriorate.

Not too long after finally conceding to his friendship with Lan Xichen and taking on Meng Yao as his exceedingly competent deputy, it became clear to Nie Mingjue that there was no way he could leave his sect to Nie Huaisang with the issue unaddressed. For his brother to live free and carefree as he had always wished for him, the Wen sect would need to be completely eradicated, leaving no remnants that would come back later to harm his brother, with his mediocre cultivation and laziness and desire to live a worry-free life.

If that was what it took to make Nie Huaisang’s dreams come true, Nie Mingjue would devote the few years he had left to seeing it through.

“I want you to go back to the Cloud Recesses when the war starts,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang, holding him tightly in his arms in relief after hearing the reports of the horrific indoctrination camp at the Nightless City that all the other sect heirs had been forced to go to.

Nie Huaisang had not gone.

When the request had come to the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue had told the messenger that the Wen sect could not force him to comply without starting a war, and that if they wished to do so, he would welcome it. He had activated all of the defenses he had spent a lifetime building for Nie Huaisang’s protection and refused to budge one bit on his refusal no matter how much Nie Huaisang said that it would be all right, that he would handle it, that surely it wouldn’t be so bad, that it would give them more time to prepare...

In the end, the Wen sect had backed off.

In the end, the other sect heirs had not been all right.

They been used as bait for a wretched beast in a cave. Several smaller sect heirs had died; Lan Wangji had ended up with a broken leg and Wei Wuxian with wounds all over and both of them starved half to death, Jiang Cheng with his feet bloody from running all the way back to the Lotus Pier, Jin Zixuan who’d never known a day of hardship in his life thin as a rake from vomiting up the poor food they’d served him for weeks and with a twitch in his eye from the constant ambushes they’d faced in their escape…the best and brightest of the youngest generation, and Nie Huaisang was far away from their standard.

He had been right to refuse to let him go.

“The Cloud Recesses, da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, surprised. “Not stay here?”

Nie Mingjue shook his head. “Even if we can get agreement with all the other sects on a response, which I think might be possible now that their heirs were so mistreated, the Wen sect will redouble their efforts to attack us as their greatest threat. We can’t win a war by sitting inside our walls, and that means whoever is left behind here will need to protect our home against a siege with virtually no manpower.”

That person would not be Nie Huaisang. His gentle younger brother - no, even if he could, Nie Mingjue would never permit it.

"You’ll be safe at the Cloud Recesses,” he continued. “Xichen took me to tour their defenses the first time I visited. They were extremely strong, just as you’d expect from a places as reclusive as that, and those were just what they were willing to show me. It will reassure me to know that you are there and safe.”

Nie Huaisang’s shoulders slumped in silent agreement, and then a moment later he brightened. “At least I’ll be able to spent some more time with Xichen-xiong, who my da-ge likes so much…”

“You brat,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes and pulling him in for another hug. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’ll stop making fun of you when you finally confess your feelings to him! You’ve liked him for such a long time, and you’re so straightforward about everything else. Why won’t you do this?”

Nie Mingjue hesitated.

“…da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, sensitive to such things. “Is there something I should know?”

Nie Mingjue licked his lips. “It’s been getting worse,” he confessed. “The – every eight years.”

Nie Huaisang went as still as a statue.

“You know how I always spend my birthday in my room, even on off years, just in case? There was always a little pain. It used to be just a bit on the date itself – minimal most years outside the eighth, but still present – but recently...”

“Recently, da-ge?”

“Recently I’ve started having the same sorts of pain at other times, randomly,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “And after what happened at the last one…I barely survived it then. The next eight year mark…if it’s as much worse than the previous time as that time had been from the time before that, then there’s no way that I’ll make it through.”

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. “That’s – there’s only five more years left.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, pressing their foreheads together. “I had hoped that I would have longer.”

It didn’t seem fair that he was doomed to lose his mind at the age of thirty two, leaving Nie Huaisang to inherit the sect at the age of twenty-four, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. Meng Yao, who did not know the details of the curse, was very solicitous of him and Nie Huaisang both. He was always helping them find new efficiencies, new ways to delegate work, to make their lives easier; he helped Nie Huaisang, who suddenly devoted himself to learning about sect leadership with a fervor and occasional jags of crying, to find teachers and did not ask too many questions, undoubtedly assuming the cause to be the war; and as for Nie Mingjue, he always finding medicines that seemed to help stem the pain without ever asking for an explanation.

The medicines helped, but Nie Mingjue knew that it would only get worse from here on out.

The Wen sect, he concluded grimly, would need to go before then.

Despite his best efforts, the war dragged on, long and slow and painful. The Wen sect had amassed a considerable following, and while Nie Mingjue’s personal gifts were enough to protect him and sway the battles he himself engaged in, it was still not enough to fight their vast armies, nor to face up against the monstrous cultivation of Wen Ruohan, two or three generations his senior but with a face younger than his own.

At least Lan Xichen visited often, acting as a courier between the various battlegrounds and sects leading them, including his own. He brought news of Nie Huaisang, reassurances that Nie Mingjue’s brother was well, and Nie Mingjue was always immensely glad to see him - and not only for the news.

Through some coincidence and a variety of reasons, Meng Yao was never available to meet with Lan Xichen when he came, and Nie Mingjue was too selfish of his limited time with Lan Xichen to really complain. When they’d finally won a large enough battle to make a real difference, with Nie Mingjue taking Wen Xu’s head in a fair fight on the field of battle and getting dubbed ‘The King of Hejian’ for his troubles, he finally invited Lan Xichen to spend a full week with him, thinking that he could finally re-introduce the two and let them spend some time together. After all, it had been Lan Xichen who had sent Meng Yao, and he undoubtedly missed his company, and Nie Mingjue, who was doomed to leave Lan Xichen alone within a few years, had no right to be possessive.

And yet, right before Lan Xichen was scheduled to arrive – he’d been delayed by an unexpected downpour in Yunmeng that had caused some disaster for the common people there, and Jiang Cheng had requested his assistance in particular – Meng Yao approached Nie Mingjue with a plan to go behind enemy lines as a spy.

“I share a bloodline with the Jin sect,” he explained, wincing a little, and Nie Mingjue, far too familiar with the promiscuous tendencies of Sect Leader Jin, winced a little in return. “Between that and my role as your deputy, it would not be difficult for me to position myself as a ‘catch’ for Sect Leader Wen. I can use that to get into his confidence and feed you information, and perhaps we can end this war faster.”

Nie Mingjue was reluctant at first, thinking the risk too great even given the promise of rich reward, but Meng Yao was insistent, and in the end he was his own man, free to do what he wished. Nie Mingjue could do nothing more than wish him well.

“It’s a pity he left before you could see him,” he remarked to Lan Xichen, who smiled and nodded.

“You speak so highly of him,” he said warmly. “I would be happy to meet him.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. “Meet him? I thought…he came to me on your recommendation. Had you not met him before that?”

Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “On my recommendation…? I don’t recall...You said his name was Meng Yao?”

Nie Mingjue frowned, but then thought of Meng Yao’s wince as he described his parentage and thought that perhaps he had adopted a new surname. “He shares a bloodline with the Jin clan?”

“Oh!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and seemed surprised. “Oh, yes – I suppose – perhaps it truly is someone I know, and well enough to recommend to you, too. I hadn’t realized A-Yao had reached out to you…I wonder why he didn’t mention it to me?”

“A-Yao?” Nie Mingjue asked, arching his eyebrows, distracted from his concerns by a strange twisting feeling in his stomach that he knew the cause for but refused to acknowledge. “You are that close, then?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “If your Meng Yao and my A-Yao are the same, then yes, quite close. He saved my life once, long ago, and I consider him my younger brother.”

The tension in Nie Mingjue’s belly disappeared at once. “Oh, well, then,” he said with a shrug that he tried to make nonchalant. “In that case, it is truly a pity that you missed him.”

Lan Xichen was looking at him with fond eyes. “I am happier to see you,” he said, and reached to take Nie Mingjue’s hand into his own.

Nie Mingjue swallowed hard. “Xichen…”

“I am not blind,” Lan Xichen said. “I have held back only because you do not seem to have any interest in pursuing what you feel.”

“It’s not –” Nie Mingjue tried to speak and tripped over his own tongue. “There’s no lack of interest…”

“If this is about you dying, I won’t hear another word about it,” Lan Xichen said, and pressed his lips, warm and dry, to the back of Nie Mingjue’s hand. “I know a war is not the best time for such things, but please, think about it. Or do you think I would mourn you any less because the opportunity had slipped through our hands instead of us having seized it?”

Lan Xichen left not long thereafter, and Nie Mingjue thought his words over at length, the thought ringing in his ears until it seemed to consume everything. Even the by now persistent pangs of the poison seemed almost eradicated, as if he were healing instead of deteriorating, and in the end he decided that Lan Xichen was right.

He only had a few years left before the end – he didn’t want to die, to leave Lan Xichen behind when they were just starting out, but if he did, then let him leave those he loved behind with full hearts and happy memories, rather than regret.

Once decided, Nie Mingjue first sent a letter to Nie Huaisang, asking his permission – he received it joyfully, as he’d expected, but he wanted to be cautious about such things – and then the next letter to Lan Qiren, asking if he could send Lan Xichen his way at the next opportunity to discuss a personal matter of some importance to them both. Asking, furthermore, that if Lan Xichen still felt the way that he did in their previous discussion, that he grant them his approval.

The letter he received back was – slightly unusual, in truth, but for all of the mystifying references to size and scale, age and experience, and related concerns that seemed all directed at him rather than at Lan Xichen as he would have expected (he was taller, but only but a little; judging by appearance, older, by a little; and certainly no member of the Lan sect could be expected to have experience, and yet for some reason Lan Qiren seemed to be trying to offer him advice about not being overwhelmed), the letter contained the approval he had requested. That was the most important thing.

He smiled down at the letter, barely able to think from sheer happiness.

“Is it true, then?” Lan Wangji, who had brought Lan Qiren’s letter in person, asked. “You’re courting xiongzhang?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue admitted, because he of all people knew how important the approval of younger brothers could be. “Your uncle has approved my suit. Is that all right with you?”

“Xiongzhang can do as he likes, of course,” Lan Wangji said, and he seemed almost – impressed, with Nie Mingjue? That seemed to be right, but he really wasn’t sure why. “And he agreed? To your suit, I mean?”

“He indicated that he would be willing,” Nie Mingjue said, a little uncomfortable at how Lan Wangji was staring at him as if he had just announced his intention to scale a very large mountain. “It was I who was – slow to understand.”

Lan Wangji raised his hands and saluted, bowing very deeply even though Nie Mingjue had long ago told him not to bother. Nie Mingjue got up and went over to try to pull him up at once, but Lan Wangji persisted.

“Chifeng-zun is a brave man,” Lan Wangji proclaimed in that serious way he had. “Noble and upright, steadfast and unflinching. I wish you both happiness.”

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, now completely uncomfortable, but luckily Lan Wangji didn’t seem interested in saying any more and left shortly thereafter.

Lan sect, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, utterly bemused. He would never understand them.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #nielan #my fic #my fics #toxicity

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zodiyack · 3 years

Text

Till Death Do We Part

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Female!Reader

Warnings: Death / mentions of death, swearing, fluff, mature themes / implied smut

Words: 849

Summary: After arriving at Camp Redwood and partaking in a little tour, the day ends peacefully. However, the night’s not as gentle as it’s made out to be. You could even say it was, deadly. Xavier’s mind goes to its safe place in what is his final moments.

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @marvelmayo

Masterlist | American Horror Story Masterlist | Cody Fern Masterlist

He was unconscious most of the time he’d been in the oven. When he awoke, his conscious was about as messy as his teenage bedroom. It was so hot, he had to wonder if it was what hell felt like. Scorching heat that burned through him both literally and not. However, he was panicking so much, he couldn’t think. The burning was a constant in his mind, so he couldn’t have a clear head even if he tried.

But now, as time felt like it slowed dramatically- ironic for the aspiring actor, he could. And so he did. It hit him like a bus, or a bolt of electricity, a flood of thoughts frantically trying to claw their way into the spotlight before everything was doomed to go dark. Margaret was over him with the knife raised. But before she brought the knife down into his torso, his brain finally picked something to see before he’d see nothing.

“Xavier!” She giggled and squealed, her smile beaming so bright Xavier couldn’t help but smile himself.

At first, the blond didn’t say anything in response to her shriek. Instead, he continued his whimsical assaults on her squirming body, reveling in every sound he drew from her. His hands tickled her sides without mercy, his lips pressed kisses to her cheeks. He moved his face down a little and skittishly nibbled on her neck, claiming he would eat her up.

Though his claims were often repeated in different scenarios, this was a moment where it wasn’t sexual, just...playful. He missed those moments.

Y/n was his shining star, the light of his life, the only person in the world who would ever grasp the true key to his heart. Relief stirred within Xavier as he relived the moments with her.

Then the scene shifted. He was next to her and her head was rested on his naked chest. They were both bare beneath the sheets of his bed. Despite their sweat covered bodies, they were holding each other like it was the last time. Each time he inhaled, her head would rise with his chest, lowering with it when he exhaled as well. It was calm, content...intimate.

“Xavier?” She asked, voice soft and barely audible with obvious tiredness.

Neither of the two lifted their heads to look at each other, but they didn’t mind. “Yeah?”

“I wish this would never end.”

“Me neither.” He thought for a moment as he stared at the ceiling. “I think...I think I love you.”

“You think?” Y/n adjusted so she could see his face, all signs of sleep wiped away and replaced with intrigue.

“Yeah- I mean...”

She suddenly perked up, a new attitude in play as she looked around the room and avoided his blue orbs. “Well that’s just too bad, because I know for a fact that I love you too. Perhaps when you’ve made up your mind, you should kiss me like your life depends on it.”

It only took a few seconds for him to snap back, a smirk sliding onto his lips as he sat up, “Maybe I will.”

He wondered if she was safe. He regretted bringing her along, whisking her away from the safety of LA and dragging her to the camp where they’d die the night before becoming counselors. If he were to say he didn’t hate himself for getting her to join in on the gig, he would be a liar.

Again, the memory altered, this time, taking him to his bedroom the night before he was to leave for the camp that would be the cause of his demise. He went out with Y/n, took her to dinner and brought her back to his place where they would enjoy a night together before they would have children taking up their time with each other.

“Are you excited?”

Xavier furrowed his brows, trying to come up with an honest answer. “For camp? I suppose. It’ll be so fucking hard keeping my hands off of you though.”

Y/n snickered at his confession, unsurprised by her boyfriend’s lewd thoughts. “I think I might just have to agree with that observation, Mr. Plympton.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” She looked at him, her e/c eyes meeting his blue ones. “It must suck ass not being able to pound me into a mattress for an entire summer.”

Xavier’s face morphed with confusion. “Who said anything about mattresses? Or being abstinent?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I meant in front of the kids, babe.” A mischievous smile slid upon his lips, “You of all fucking people should know that the moment those rugrats hit the hay, Xavier’s gonna want to play.”

That was all the warning Y/n received before he attacked her neck with love bites, soon lifting her off the couch and throwing her into his bed for what would be the last time.

The pain of the blade entering his flesh snapped him back into reality. He slowly lifted his head, watching as the blood stained his shirt. Then, it all went black.

If only he knew it would actually be the last time.

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ineloqueent · 3 years

Text

party for one

Roger Taylor x Reader

synopsis: you’re not excited about your birthday, and have thus decided not to tell anyone about it. but then Roger finds out, and refuses to let it go.

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 2.8k

see moodboard here!

⭒

December, 1979

Turning thirty was not something you looked forward to.

It was a big number, the number at which everyone expected you to have your life together, be married and have children, have a steady job.

Well, you could check one of those boxes.

As the newly-appointed tour photographer for Queen, you were well-liked, and thus had no fears of unemployment in the near future.

You’d gotten quite close with the members of Queen over the past month, during the aptly-named Crazy Tour, sharing late nights and early mornings with the four musicians. Late nights and early mornings had a funny way of bringing out the true personalities of people, because lack of sleep meant that no one had a filter, and your mutual exhaustion had made you the best of friends with the band you were travelling with.

You liked to go dancing with John, when nobody else would, because Brian couldn’t dance for the life of him, and Roger hated disco, and Freddie was often busy.

You went with Brian to the science museums he wanted to visit in many of the cities where you stopped, because everyone else had had enough of his rambling. Brian was talkative when he was talking about something he cared about, and it was a sort of reprieve for you not to be the one talking— to tour managers, to publicists, to press, to the lighting department who spoke in riddles, to the security guards in various nations that did not speak English.

Freddie loved shopping, for anything and everything, and was ever so pleased to have a companion on his many expeditions in search of rare records, paintings, clothes.

And Roger… Well, Roger. What could you say about Roger?

Roger was the in-between moments. Not that he wasn’t around— because he was, and practically everywhere you looked— but because whenever things seemed to slow down, or grow drearily quiet, or when you stood at the eye of the storm that was the never-ending flood of work that came as part of your employment with Queen, Roger was there, with an easy smile and a striking insightfulness.

He became the quiet moments when he took you to see strange, foreign films on off-nights, showed you forgotten corners of sprawling cities across the continents, or called you over to read you a quote from whatever book was currently occupying his headspace.

One such night, you were sitting in the games room of a hotel, cleaning one of your cameras, as Brian and John attempted to beat one another’s pinball scores, as Freddie sat watching telly with a few friends, and a handful of crew members played an intense game of pool.

You had taken a seat on one of the two sofas in the room, leaving ample space, should someone else want to sit down, but Roger occupied an entire couch to himself, feet up at one armrest, head at the other. He’d been wearing headphones, plugged into a brand-new Sony Walkman portable cassette player, the one which both band and crew had gawked over when he’d first bought it, back in July. But now he took the headphones off, mussing his blonde hair— recently cropped— and sat up.

“Hey,” he said, and you looked up. “Come listen to this.”

With a small sigh, you carefully deposited your camera on the coffee table, and crossed over to the other side of the space to join Roger.

You flopped down at his side, and he looped his arm through yours, pushing his reading glasses up on his nose before softly clearing his throat.

“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people,” he read quietly, “and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?”

“I don’t—”

“Shh,” Roger peered at you over his glasses, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m not finished.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, sorry. Go on, then.”

“It’s the too-huge world vaulting us,” Roger continued, “and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Roger smiled. “It’s us,” he said, and then said nothing more, until you relaxed into his side and sat there with him as he read in silence, and your eyes fell shut and your mind fell into a dream.

With the days, the tour went on, and as the date of your birthday approached, you took great care to pretend that it did not.

But your birthday had always been an ordeal for you, and you weren’t doing particularly well at hiding the sense of impending doom that came over you, when there was only a week until the day.

John noticed, that much was obvious, but said nothing, ever respectful of your personal matters as you were of his.

Brian noticed, but only asked what was wrong in such a roundabout way that you felt inclined to say he had not noticed at all, or was too polite to ask directly.

Freddie noticed, and asked outright what was bothering you, but he did so right before going onstage, and refused to perform before you had answered his question. So you answered, albeit untruthfully, with a hurried, “Nothing!” to make him get the fuck onstage.

And Roger noticed.

He caught your arm the day before your birthday, as they were all departing the stage in the wake of raucous cheers, a towel slung around his neck as he caught his breath from the physical exertion that was playing the drums. He pulled you off to the side before you could protest, before Freddie and the others could drag the both of you off to some party, and looked at you in such a way you thought he’d stare right through your very heart.

“What?!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, folding his arms with an inquisitive expression.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

Roger snorted. “‘Course it is. You’ve been like this for weeks. What’s the matter?”

You shrugged your shoulders in discomfort, avoiding his gaze. “It’s—”

“If you say nothing one more time, I’ll go get Brian and ask him to explain zodiacal light, and we’ll be stood here for literal hours before we can get any sort of food or drink or bed. So spit it out, because I worry about you, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He stared you down, and you felt a sudden compulsion to embrace him for having cared enough to ask about you, to take the time to ask about you.

With a heavy sigh, you conceded your secrets to him, as simply as had you been a book he’d opened, intending to read from cover to cover.

“It’s my birthday—”

He frowned, “When?”

“Tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow?” Roger balked. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell us? We would have organised something!”

“No, no, I don’t want you to make a fuss—”

“Well, what if I want to make a fuss?”

“You want to—”

He grasped your hand, and with the contact, your heart clenched. “You deserve to be fussed over,” he told you, earnestly. “Don’t you get that?”

Your mouth had fallen open, and you now pressed your lips together, glancing down at the floor.

“No,” you mumbled. “I don’t get that.”

“And so you’ve been living your life wrong,” said Roger. “Get that into your head, love.”

It was strange, how words so simple could strike a chord, but there was a lump in your throat when you swallowed, and when you nodded, you couldn’t look at him.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m sure you’re as tired as I am.”

You nodded again, avoiding his eyes, and he set off.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

You didn’t mind.

And as testament to Roger’s assertion, when you had parted from him and gone to your hotel room, you’d changed and fallen asleep as soon as your head had hit the pillow.

The following day was your birthday, and a day without a scheduled show, so you slept in. No one would miss you for a few hours, you thought, and indeed, no knocks roused you from your sleep until you got up, well into the afternoon.

You ran into Freddie in the hallway, and, suddenly possessed by the notion that you should do something fun on your birthday, even if no fuss was to be made, you asked Freddie if he wanted to go with you to see a movie, and where the others were, should they wish to come as well.

“No, sorry darling, I’ve got a thousand things to do before tomorrow, and I’m afraid I’ve got no idea where anyone else is.” He pursed his lips. “In fact, I’ve been looking for those three idiots for the better part of an hour.”

“That’s… rather strange,” you said, in all honesty.

“Rather,” Freddie agreed. Then he clasped his hands. “I’m going to keep looking for them, if you don’t mind. But enjoy your film, and I’ll see you at dinner?”

Your heart dropped, but of course, the great Freddie Mercury was a busy man, so naturally, this was to be expected. “See you at dinner,” you replied, and let him be on his way.

You wandered the hotel for a little while, perhaps ten minutes or so, before you came upon Brian, who had pink-flushed cheeks and wore quite the coat— bulky, and oddly overstuffed, like some sort of armchair.

“Hey,” you said in greeting. “Freddie’s looking for you.”

“Freddie’s— oh, is he? Right. Well. Better find him then before he loses his temper, ha ha.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Are you okay, Brian?”

“What?” he folded his arms around his body, in an awkward fashion, because he was clearly not accustomed to the bulk upon his frame. “Nothing. I mean, yes, I’m fine, yes. I’ll go find Fred.”

And then he hurried down the hall, before you could open your mouth to ask him if he was free to go see a film.

“Never mind,” you muttered, and proceeded in the direction you had been going before.

Two down, two left. This was truly going to be a rotten birthday, if you were to go to see a film on your own. Not that there was anything wrong with that, aside from the glaring fact that you didn’t actually feel like being alone.

You found Deacy in the lobby, leaning his elbows on the counter as he called to the person using the phone in the adjacent room.

Approaching him, you realised he was talking to— or rather, talking at— Roger, who had leaned out of the room, one hand covering the mouthpiece of the telephone.

Roger’s gaze met with yours briefly, before his eyes widened and he hissed to John something that sounded distinctly like shut up.

John saw you then, and smiled as you approached.

“Hello, Y/N. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” you responded airly, feigning a happy demeanour. “You?”

“Lovely,” said John. “Just getting Rog to make a few phone calls about the next show.”

You shook your head, puzzled. “The next show?”

“Mmyes. There was a mix-up with some gear, last time, so we thought we’d get onto it ourselves, so we know exactly what’s going on. Hands-on, you know?”

“Yeah,” you answered slowly, though in actual fact this made absolutely no sense to you, and you were sure that it made no sense to the person who had spoken it.

“Finished, Roger?” John called back to his friend, his tone more warning than inquisitive. You wondered why.

A muffled, bell-like sound announced that Roger had hung up the phone.

“Finished,” he affirmed, adjusting his round-lens sunglasses.

“Well,” said Deacy, “I’ll be off, then. See you later, Y/N.” He raised his hand in a wave, and disappeared around the corner.

You blinked at his sudden departure, then turned to Roger and asked your question before he could disappear as well.

“Rog, come see a film with me?”

Roger was pulling on an overcoat, and promptly shook his head. “Can’t. Sorry, love.”

Your fingers caught on his sleeve as he passed you, and he stopped.

“Please,” you murmured. “I know I said I didn’t want a fuss, but it’s my birthday. Come with me?”

Roger shook his head again, squeezing your hands in his. “I really can’t,” he said. At least he had the decency to look apologetic. You supposed that was something. “But I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You tried not to sound too dejected, but truth be told, you were crushed. “Yeah, tonight.”

“Alright, then. Well, I’d better be off.” His grip gentle on your forearms, he tugged you forward and kissed your cheek, and you blushed beneath the touch of his lips to your skin, at the warmth that passed from him to you. Drawing back, he winked, let your hands fall, and was gone as well.

You went to see the film on your own.

And then you saw another. And another, just for the hell of it.

By the time you returned to the hotel, it was dark, and you found no one anywhere once more. Until you more or less crashed into John on the landing.

“Blimey, good you’re here!” he said breathlessly. “You’ve got to come quickly. Something’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” you asked. “What do you mean, wrong? Is everyone alright? Is someone hurt?”

John shook his head. “No, no. Just… Come on. You’ll want to see this.”

“See what—”

He more or less dragged you down the hall, until you reached the games room, and ground to a halt.

“In there.”

“The games room?” you said dubiously.

Deacy nodded. He stepped aside, indicating you should open the door.

Eyeing him warily, you reached for the door handle, and pushed it down. The room was dark—

And then abruptly, it was not.

Streamers burst forth, and twinkling fairy lights glinted off of the faces of your friends— Brian, Freddie, Roger, and smattering of crew— smiling from behind a table piled with all sorts of food. Food, and presents.

“Surprise!” came the cry, and you barked a laugh, half in surprise, half in disbelief at your stupidity for not having seen this coming.

“I— thank you,” you said, just as Freddie blew a party horn, to the dismay of those standing immediately beside him. You laughed again, “How did you manage all of this… with such short notice?”

Brian grinned. “It was all Roger.”

“And your bulky coat?” you asked.

“I was carrying bags of ice,” Brian admitted, to a chorus of laughter. “I was cold, okay, but I couldn’t let you see it, so I had to get away from you as quickly as possible. Sorry if that came off as rude.”

You merely laughed once again, then turned to Deacy, who stood beside you. “And, John?”

“Head of organisation,” he said. “Though it was Roger’s master plan.”

“Freddie?”

“What do you think, darling? I did all the shopping,” he swept his arm in a grand gesture, indicating the food and the presents.

“Oh, come off it, Fred,” Roger scoffed, pushing past Crystal. “Not all of the shopping.” Roger now stood before you, and, inclining his head, he handed you a rectangular package, wrapped in butcher paper and white string. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said.

“Thanks, Rog,” you smiled, as you felt yourself be filled with a happiness you had long since thought gone.

“Go on. Open it.”

You looked down at the parcel in your hands, then began to tug at the string.

“We haven’t got all night,” called Freddie. “There’s cake for you as well, so hurry up!”

You glanced at Roger. He shrugged. You tore the paper from the present, and let it fall to the ground.

In your hands you held a first-edition copy of Lord of the Rings.

You gaped. “But how did you—”

“Made some phone calls,” said Roger modestly.

Without a way of putting your gratitude into words, you threw your arms around him, so forcefully that he stumbled backward, before he wrapped his arms around you as well, chuckling.

“Thank you,” you murmured, as someone started a record on the nearby deck, and the party was set into motion.

“You deserve to be fussed over,” he murmured back.

And if it was possible, you hugged him even more tightly, for once at home in this quiet, strange world, with its triumphs and its downfalls, and its in-between moments.

With its Roger moments.

Yes, that was what they were. There was no in-between when Roger was in your world.

And he knew that for as long as you would let him, he would damn well stay.

#s&t celebrate #tina's writing #roger taylor x reader #fic

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

4x02: Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

Then:

Dean Winchester is saved

Now:

Olivia, a hunter, wakes to cold air and flickering lights. She runs for her shotgun just as Bobby leaves a message on her answering machine.

Her EMF is going nuts as she patrols her house. Suddenly ghosts that she recognizes give her the one two punch and she’s a goner.

At Bobby’s, Dean is vehemently denying that he was “groped by an angel.” Bobby’s got lots of lore on angels, though. It seems they’re the only thing that could pull a human soul from Hell.

Sam thinks it’s a good thing that Dean was saved “by one of the good guys.” And Dean wonders if there is a God. BABIES. Dean’s having a hard time believing there’s a god out there that personally believes in him. Oh, buddy, he cares just a little too much, I’d say. Dean’s self-loathing is off the charts though. And this is getting way ahead of myself here, but even though Chuck cares in the sense that Dean is a fun little puppet for him, it’s Cas that really cared all along. He believed in Dean so much, he gave up everything for this man. BIG SIGH.

Dean demands pie before digging into the angel lore.

Sam runs off to forget get the pie, when he sees Ruby lurking. She wants to know if the angel stuff is real. Ruby’s scared for her demon life and takes off.

Sam gets back to Bobby’s in time for all three of them to take off to investigate why Olivia isn’t answering Bobby’s calls. Also, he forgot the pie.

They find Olivia disemboweled on her bedroom floor. And Bobby can’t get a hold of any nearby hunters. They check them out to find everyone dead.

They need to get back to Bobby’s to regroup.

Sam’s getting gas for the Impala while Dean sleeps. He makes a pitstop in the gas station restroom. The room suddenly gets cold and Victor Henrickson appears!

He blames Sam for his death. He starts to attack Sam but Dean comes in with a save and a shotgun.

Bobby meanwhile is haunted by a couple giggling raggedy twin girls. Fun!

Sam and Dean race back to Bobby’s. They can’t get a hold of him so they enter his house with shotguns ready. The boys separate and while Dean checks out the upstairs, Sam heads outside.

Dean runs into the ghost of the woman who was once Meg Masters.

She blames Dean for her possession...and Dean hates himself enough to actually believe it all. It wasn’t your fault, dude. Also, as much as they’ve learned about demon possession and all, if they would have met Meg at any point in the future, they would have just stabbed her with Ruby’s knife and she’d be dead anyway. Idk, saving people is good in theory, but hard in practice for these guys. I also know this is a manipulation. “Do you know what it’s like to be ridden for a month by pure evil?” HE DOES! Leave him alone!

Meanwhile, Sam’s trying to find Bobby outside. He’s currently being held down by a couple scary ghost twins.

Ghost of Meg continues to taunt Dean, and pins her sister’s suicide on him as well. MEG. NO.

Outside, Sam finds Bobby trapped in an old scrap car. He helps break him out and together they swing iron through the ghost girls.

Dean drags himself away from Meg, and aims his gun at the iron chandelier up above. DAMN BOBBY that’s some fancy light fixture work! The chandelier smokes Meg out...for now.

Back in Bobby’s living room, they realize that all the ghosts had a brand on their hands. Bobby hauls out the lore and leads the Winchesters down to...dun dun DUN...his safe room.

We get the grand tour because this is the FIRST TIME WE’VE SEEN IT. This safe room has everything! Iron! Salt! Devil’s traps! Lore! Racy posters! Booze! Weapons! The vanished hopes and dreams of Dean Winchester! A cot complete with restraints! The Winchesters are impressed.

Later, Dean breaks into a theological monologue while making salt bullets. My sweet sunshine! How dare you speak my love language! “If [God] doesn't exist...fine. Bad crap happens to good people. That's how it is. There's no rhyme or reason - just random, horrible, evil. I get it, okay? I can roll with that. But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?” (Because, sweetie, freedom is a length of rope and God LITERALLY wants you to hang yourself with it.)

Bobby finds the brand - it’s the “mark of the witness.” They’re ghosts forced to rise and destroy people. In fact, the Rising of the Witnesses is part of an ancient prophecy. A prophecy of...DOOM. It’s a sign of the apocalypse. Dean suggests coping with a series of wish-fulfillment trips including: Grand Canyon, Star Trek Experience, and the Bunny Ranch. Somebody please write me that fic. Instead of Dean’s plan, Bobby suggests running an ancient ritual to shut down the witnesses. To do so, they first have to race out of the panic room to gather ingredients before the ghosts have a chance to yank their insides outside.

Ronald from the bank heist greets them at the stairs. Bobby blasts away Dean’s guilt ghost for him, and we cut to a montage of spell preparation. The three of them split up to fetch supplies. Ghosts appear to torment them.

Meg appears to Sam, only she KNOWS more than she should. She knows about Sam’s fraternization with Ruby.

In the kitchen, Victor appears to Dean. He reveals that after the Winchesters left, Lilith gruesomely tortured those left in the station for almost an hour before blowing up the place. While Dean absorbs this fun fact, Victor makes his move, plunging his hand into Dean’s chest.

Sam saves Dean just in time with a well-aimed salt round. They start the ritual, Bobby’s living room teeming with ghosts. Bobby chants while the Winchesters play shotgun whack-a-mole with the ghosts. Meg jabs a hand into Bobby’s chest. Bobby drops the bowl and Dean dives for it like it’s a football, then tosses the spell into the fire to finish the job.

That night, Dean wakes from his slumber.

Castiel stands waiting for him (watching him sleep??) in the kitchen. He congratulates Dean on their triumph over the witnesses, and announces that he has already started doodling Mister Castiel Winchester in his notebooks!

Dean feels a little raw about nearly dying (again) and wonders why angels are total dicks. “Read the bible,” Cas advises. “Angels are warriors of God.” Oh, and also? He’s not here to PERCH ON DEAN’S SHOULDER. Oh honey sweetie baby.

Dean tries to read Cas the riot act and rails against God’s shitty parenting.

Cas: The lord works…

Dean: If you say "mysterious ways" so help me, I will kick your ass

Cas warns Dean that big...no, cosmic things are afoot.

The Rising of the Witnesses is one of sixty-six seals that Lilith is busily unlocking. Each seal is a lock holding Lucifer in his cage. Dean has trouble believing that Lucifer is even REAL. Sassy Cas smiles. “Three days ago you thought there was no such thing as me.”

Cas tells Dean that Heaven isn’t infinite. Angels have died in the battle so far, and more may be at risk. (Excuse me while I weep for the next twelve seasons. There have been 0 days since the last angel mishap.)

“You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?” Cas asks, telegraphing his series story arc. “You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of Hell. I can throw you back in.” Cas flaps out.

Dean wakes up for realsies. WAS IT ALL A DREAM? He asks Sam if he believes in the Devil…

You Should Show Me Some Quotes:

All I know is I was not groped by an angel

If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?

When have I ever forgotten the pie?

Where’s the pie?

I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon. Not dicks

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #bobby singer #spn 4x02 #Are you there God It's me Dean Winchester #Victor Henriksen #ronald reznick #meg masters #supernatural season 4

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

Love Talk - Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 8.3k words

Genre: mild angst, smut, fluff, romance

Rating: 18+

Hello! I’m definitively back! It’s still complicated because of my presentation, but we’ll see!

I have extra updates, which I’ll share on a separate post, but now let’s focus on part 7/7 of Love Talk! It’s Jeonggukkie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, quick recap: Jeongguk and Candy have been dating/messing around for a couple months before he left for tour (he describes his situation with Candy on his Conversation with Yoongi and Joon), as soon as he comes back, he tries to meet up with his girlfriend to clear things up. They both have a lot of things to say.

Descriptions and Trigger warnings: THIS IS SMUT, MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. There’s a bit of angst, mostly because of their previous relationships and miscommunication. Also fluff. This man is really romantic and he literally deserves the most loving girl in the universe. About smut and filth: there’s oral, both male and female receiving, boobjob (and it has nothing to do with plastic surgery), unprotected sex within a committed relationship (PLEASE STAY SAFE Y’ALL.), cockwarming; sweet, fluffy pillowtalk.

Wordcount: 8.3k words

Here is my masterlist! Also, check the link in my bio if you want to vote for the next prompt :)

Enjoy 💜😘

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Yoongi was laying comfortably in his seat, a light blanket protecting his body from the AC currently turning the airplane into a fridge. The only visible part of his body were his puffy cheeks, and his closed cat eyes.

Beside him, Jeongguk hesitated, pondering whether it would be a good idea to wake him up. Maybe he could ask Namjoon?

No. He knew he needed Yoongi.

"What is it, boy?" The sleepy figure rumbled.

"Oh, you're awake, hyung."

He clicked his tongue. "I was waiting for you to speak."

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

"I could kind of tell you had something on your mind. I was waiting for you to spit it out."

"It's Candy." Gguk replied.

"I see." Yoongi yawned and tried to open his eyes, rubbing them.

"I think I want to see her as soon as I'm back but I don't know how to handle all of what happened and actually talk about stuff without it degenerating." Jeongguk seemed to deflate as soon as all the words got out.

Yoongi nodded and balled up even more under the sheets. "If you want to see her, you should. And if you want her, you should tell her. You should tell her all you've been feeling and then ask her how she's been feeling too. How she feels about what you told her." Yoongi rolled onto his back, stretching his arms. "The seven of us have been together for many many years. We are telepathic by now, but it doesn't work like that with Candy. She cannot read your mind yet, so you should teach her how."

Jeongguk shook his head. "I suck as a teacher. Even I don't know what's going on there half of the time. And I don't know how I've been feeling."

Yoongi shook his head, tutting. "You've been missing her, right?"

Gguk nodded and hummed.

"And you want her, right? You want this to work?"

"Yes, if she wants it, too." The younger man confirmed.

"That's already something, isn't it?" Yoongi encouraged him.

Again Jeongguk nodded.

"I suggest that you reflect on it a little. We have a few more hours before we reach Seoul. You can write a note on your phone about how you felt when you were with her, when you took a pause, when you were without her. And you can write a list of improvements you want to do. Things that you want to change or that you can change to make her stay. Be realistic. Make them small things, just two or three. Show her that you care. That's all it takes to make a conversation work. Show the other party that you're doing your best to meet them in the middle. I'm sure she will appreciate the effort." An arm moved heavily under the blanket, timidly emerging and patting Jeongguk's hand. "And remember to ask her what she doesn't like. Be empathetic. Suggest improvements. That's what women appreciate: empathy."

Jeongguk blinked at that, quickly grabbing his phone to furiously type everything down. As soon as the clicking stopped he raised his head. "Thank you, hyung."

Yoongi closed his eyes and smiled. "That's okay, bunny." He turned around and fell asleep, ignoring the slower but fluent typing happening on the seat beside his.

——————-

"Hi, it's me." Jeongguk's voice said sweetly on the other side of the phone.

"Hello Gguk." You replied soberly. You still didn't know where this whole thing was headed.

"I'm in Seoul." He said, with a slightly insecure, though happy tone.

"I'm glad you're back." You said politely.

"I would like to see you, if you want to." He murmured tentatively.

This is it, you thought. This is the part where I lose him because I was so eager and harsh. Because I didn't respect his bounderies. "Where and when?"

He smiled. "Even now. I'm sort of… Outside your door? I was hoping you would say you were free." He confessed, embarrassed.

This is the shy, but eager and genuine boy you had fallen for. Waiting outside your door, being impatient and frolicking his way back to you anytime he felt unsafe, like a labrador puppy.

"My apartment is a mess right now." You apologised in advance.

"If I'm being honest, I was just trying to pick you up and take you back to my apartment." He explained, his voice betraying his flustered state.

You smiled but still you felt insecure, still fearing the definitive break up.

"Let me grab my things." You said, quickly gathering your bag and keys.

"I'll wait for you." He said, disconnecting the call.

You galloped down the stairs and reached him in record time as he waited for you in the parking lot, a baseball cap on and his mouth covered in a mask.

You neared him with an easy step.

"Hi." You chirped.

He turned to you and smiled with his eyes. "Hello. It's so good to see you." He greeted, hesitating before patting your shoulder. "Let's just get in the car, yeah?"

Again, you realised how stressful it was to have eyes on you all the time.

In the car he patted your knee and caressed your cheek. "I'm sorry, you know. About that." He said, his chin pointing out, referring to his previous behaviour. "Let's just go home so I can kiss you like you deserve." He said, now more confident. "I missed you a lot." He said and his words felt so pure, so sincere.

You put your hand on his. "Let's go home."

Again he smiled and started the car.

The drive wasn't long, his arm coming around your middle as soon as you were both out of the car in the underground parking lot of his block. "How has it been?" He asked, making light conversation as you went into the lift.

"The usual. I've been away for a week for an upgrading course in Busan. The rest was pretty much the same."

He beamed. "Did you like it there? Was it nice? How was the weather? Did you go to that restaurant —? “

He seemed ecstatic about the news until he stopped and frowned. "I wish I'd been there too. With you." He huffed out a breath, his head sinking between his shoulders.

You caressed his back and cheered him up. "We can go together next time." If there will be a next time.

"Yeah, sure." He looked happy again. He liked the idea of you mentioning a next time. It made him feel like he still stood a chance with you.

You entered the apartment still tied together by his arm. "God, your place is always so neat." You said, looking around.

But your looking around lasted only a couple seconds, his hand connecting with your cheek as he placed his lips on yours, delicate, pure and gentle.

Your heart fluttered. This was good. This was everything. He tugged at the heel of his shoe with the tip of his other foot, taking both sneakers off in the process, which you realised only because of him getting an inch shorter. He then parted from your lips, looking you in the eye. "You have no idea how much I missed you." He dove for the crook of your neck, propping his forehead on your collarbone.

He knelt to the floor and something in you caved in at the meaning of the gesture, his hands reaching for your shoelaces and undoing them, your hands going for his shoulders as he took off one of your shoes, then the other, placing them beside his.

Your heart sobbed. Too much. You loved him too much. And he wasn't ready for that. It was way easier to hide your feelings behind excuses and fussing.

He stood up, beaming at you and you closed your eyes, looked away.

He somehow felt it like a punch to the nose.

"Are you hungry? Did you eat?" He worried, walking away.

"Yeah, I ate." When are you leaving me?

Still you tried to pretend it wasn't going there.

"Would you please come here?" He asked, patting the pillows of his sofa.

Here it comes.

Still you moved closer, every step feeling like you were willingly heading for your execution block.

"Sit?" He asked his eyes glittering at you.

When he looked at you like this — and he did so a lot — you felt like you were his whole universe. It was the stare he only had for his hyungs. And for his mother, who you had met accidentally.

You simply sat down, tired of waiting for your impending doom.

"I have something to tell you." He said softly, taking his phone out of his pocket.

He held your hand, crisscrossing your fingers together.

You couldn't hold back anymore. "Gguk."

"Me first." He said, stopping you.

You shook your head, staring at your lap.

"How are you feeling? How have you been feeling since I left?"

Broken. Numb. "I won't lie. It's been hard. I missed you." You confesses.

"I'm sorry." Jeongguk whispered. "I'm sorry we fought before I left."

"It's okay." You replied, squeezing his hand.

"It was hard for me too. Of course I missed you. Sorry if I didn't show. And sorry if I hardly ever called you." He closed his eyes, gulping.

"I am not okay that you disappeared. We dated for like… Three months? Before you left for the tour. And for one month of those three you were touring here and in Japan." You remembered. "Why didn't you call?"

He bit his lip. "It hurt." He put down his phone.

"Why, Jeongguk?"

"Because I missed you. Because I was dumb when I let you go, before I left. When you smashed the door on your way out that night, so enraged that you didn't even put on your shoes in your rush out, I thought I would never see you again. It feels like a miracle to see you in my house again." He was speaking through a lump in his throat. "And it hurt even more because every time I heard your voice, I was reminded of how much of a dick I had been. And in all of that I ignored that I hadn't been fair to you because I was too busy wanting you."

You frowned.

"I missed you. Not only your soul. Your body too." He blushed. "I had a hard time accepting that."

You exhaled. "I was angry, but I realised I had overreacted."

Jeongguk looked up at you. "You had every right to be angry. And overreacting is not a thing. It was important to you but I didn't get that. I'm sorry." He apologised again. He was ready to say sorry one million times more if that meant that he could have you.

"And then I didn't call because it felt like you were busy. You were so stressed before you left and I figured you didn't want me distracting you and reminding you of all our problems."

He tried to put himself together. He felt he was going to cry. "We both didn't call." He paused. "I must say Yoongi helped me when he saw I was struggling. That was the first time I called. He helped me understand a lot of things." He changed the hand holding yours and wrapped his free arm around you, bringing you closer to him, tugging you into his side."You know I'm shy. And inexperienced. I only had one person before you and it was toxic." Once more he shrinked and hid into you.

"Do you feel like talking about it?" You asked gently.

"No. We talked about her plenty." He said, exhausted. "You know my limits. And I want to improve. But I need you to help me out with this." He sobbed. He was crying. "I don't know how to do this alone."

It was a mess. You started crying too.

"I know my mind is fucked up, and I don't speak much. When I do, I say dumb things and most time they don't make sense—"

"Don't berate yourself like this. You're a sensitive young man. Kind and smart and very private about your emotions. Of course I can't understand you like your friends do, but I want to." You tried rubbing his tears away with the palm of your hand, but he hid even more into you, sobbing into your T-shirt. "I think I'll learn to ask you how you feel. I can ask you more often, if you want to. And I'll keep nagging until you elaborate." You laughed at that, even though your cheeks felt wet. "How do you feel right now, Googie?"

He hugged you to himself, wrapping you tighter in his arms. His words came out smothered against your bosom. "I feel cared for. Thankful." Pause. "Loved."

You bit your lip at that. You had managed to show even though you had desperately tried not to. Your fear of him not loving you intensified. He said he had missed you, your body, and that he didn't want you to leave. That he wanted to improve this relationship. But did he love you?

"What would happen if I fell in love with you, Jeongguk?" You asked, terrified. It was worth a shot. If it went wrong, he would ask you to leave and both of you would nurse your broken hearts separately. But if it went right? It was a leap of faith.

He parted from your chest. "Are you in love with me?" He asked, wide bambi eyes shining in marvel.

All you did was nod.

He started sobbing again, crying rivers, suffocating himself against the crook of your neck.

You smiled, shaking your head in confusion. "Googie. How are you feeling, baby?"

"Happy. Very grateful." He hid into you. "I prayed so much for this." He stared at you. "I'm young. I don't know if what I feel is love. It's a messed up concept for me. But I want to hold on to you. Take care of you. I hope this is enough until you teach me what love is like."

You nodded, stars sparkling in your heart. You didn't expect him to say it back. It was good for now. All your fears had to do with him sending you away, leaving you. You didn't care if he didn't love you back as long as he kept you. It might speak poorly of you, but for now it was enough. You would show him, teach him. And maybe someday he'd understand what he feels for you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked meekly.

You nodded with a smile.

This time, he kissed you slowly, deliberately, cupping your cheeks and stopping with his nose pressed to yours. "Why are you crying?"

You shook your head, giving him Eskimo kisses in the process. "I was afraid you were leaving me. And you were crying, so I cried too."

He smiled and joined your lips, gently asking for you to open your mouth.

It wasn't a tangle of tongues. Not straight away, at least. It was more of a series of kitten licks to the tip of your tongue, deepening with long sweeps to your palate. The experience turned out to be wildly erotic. Jeongguk might be a demure man, but he's a keen student and a quick learner. Ever since your first few make out sessions, he had learnt what he liked and he had learnt to deliver it flawlessly, making you completely forget whatever your preferences were. You didn't care as long as he put his dedication and passion into it. He managed to make everything feel good and you didn't even know why.

It must be the virgo energy, you wondered. Perfectionist.

"I still have things to say, Candy." He spelled on your lips.

You whined. "Later." And you captured his lower lip between yours.

Still he pulled away. "Candy. Please."

You pouted and sat back. "Okay, I'm listening."

"When I was on tour I often felt guilty. And it's not just that. I somehow felt it back then, before the fight." His fingers intertwined. "It was… Lust."

You remained neutral, listening.

"I felt guilty, for wanting you even though you were angry at me. And before, it was guilt too, when I wanted you all the time, without being sure that you were right for me. When I only wanted you for your body." He confessed, unsure. "I want you a lot and I'm not sure I love you but I care about you so much, like family, like friends."

You exhaled and laughed. "I know how lust feels. And it's okay to want someone without being sure about your feelings. We feel attraction. And it's right. It's good." You grabbed his hands and brought them to your lips. "I wanted you too. I was scared and then angry, then you were gone and I missed you. I missed your body too." You replied.

"Why were you scared?" He asked, titubant.

You didn't manage to make eye-contact. "I realised I have feelings for you. I was afraid that you weren't ready and that you would not see me anymore."

He stood very still, eyes barren. "I am sorry you felt like that." He tried to make you look at him. "I'm sorry I didn't make you feel safe enough to talk about that." As he saw another tear roll down your cheek, he hugged you to his chest lifting you and placing you on his lap. "I'll make it better. I promise I'll learn to talk to you." He said. "With small steps. I'll need encouragement and support, constant nagging. I don't know if we'll manage, but I want to try."

You let his wide chest engulf you.

"I'll make it up to you, Candy. Anything, baby." He kissed the top of your head. "I have feelings for you too, you know, right?"

You sobbed harder and he cooed. "Don't cry, honey, or I'll start crying too." He spoke gently, rocking you back and forth. "You're my precious Candy." He crooned at your ear. "They're not taking my candy from me." He sing-sang again, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

You calmed down at his gentle ways, safe in the port of his arms.

"What would you say if we went to bed?" He asked, waiting for your feedback.

"It's five pm." You replied.

"I'm jetlagged." He volleyed back.

You didn't have much strength to argue back. "Carry me?"

He snickered and picked you up bridal-style. "Your majesty, we respectfully announce to you that your royal carriage is about to depart. Destination: the bedroom. We recommend you keep a firm hold on the safety devices." He proclaimed, making you laugh, but also making sure that your fingers were firmly laced behind his neck.

With a few long strides he reached his room, taking smaller steps to the bed to make sure that he wouldn't hit the frame with his calves, like the first time you had sex here. He had twin bruises a few inches below his knees the following day. It was hilarious.

He got ready to get on the bed, but you stopped him.

"Can I rinse my face?" You asked. He raised his eyebrows and carried you to the bathroom, dropping you only for you to wash your face quickly. He did too, passing you some soap and then offering you his moisturiser. Once your faces felt brand new, he insisted on picking you up again, only to carry you for a few steps before climbing the bed. He knelt in the middle of the mattress, lowering you to your side of the bed. "That's your place. I hope you learn to stay there." He whispered, and you weren't quite sure this was your Gguk. This looked like his dark, demanding personality, whose appetite for you never seemed to quiver or die down, who only took on his terms, according to his tastes — and just like with making out, oh boy, did he deliver.

"Cuddles?" You asked, pouting.

He threw his body down, beside yours, tucking you under his chin. "Yup. Let's just nap a little."

You nodded. The weather outside was right, with the slight bite of cold due to the rain supposed to come in the evening and a gloomy greyness coming from the cloudy sky.

He slid out from beneath you, and sat up, taking off his t-shirt. "There you go." He said, offering you the garment at the same as you slipped your sweater off, exchanging it with the shirt. As he laid back down and took off his sweats, you unhooked your bra and threw it to the floor beside your sweater.

Shaking his head he snickered, rolling on top of you and smirking as he gathered your clothes and folded the sweater, his fingers getting caught on the frilly straps of your nice bra. "This is that one?" He asked, blushing slightly with a raised eyebrow as he folded that too. "Off with your jeans too."

"The one from our date, yeah."

"From our microwave date." He reminisced, catching the jeans you'd just taken off and folding them too.

"From our ramen date." You reminisced, rolling on your side to look at him as he moved the neat pile to his empty bedside.

He moved back, laying on his side facing you.

"Best ramen of my life." He whispered, his fingers wrapping around your hipbone and pushing you on your back, then shifting you around until he was spooning you, his hand climbing up underneath your shirt. His shirt.

Well.

"It's just cuddles, really." He said, cupping your breast lovingly.

"Gguk."

"Sweet dreams, Candy." He said, shushing you and settling in for sleep.

His big hand tucked between his mattress and the side of your boob, his chin resting atop your head.

Somehow you both found yourself falling asleep. You slept peacefully, Jeongguk progressively expanding over you. In his sleep he always grew clingy but you didn't bother, normally you would wake up sweaty and let him take you against the shower wall, getting dirty before cleaning yourself up.

You didn't know what time it was when you woke up, just that there was almost no light coming in, the sky opening up in downpour.

And someone was nipping at your belly.

With a groan you opened your eyes. "Gguk," you murmured, your arms stretching above your head, back arching as your body woke up.

"You awake?" He asked.

You nodded with a lazy smile. "Not like you woke me, uh?"

He giggled with mischief. "Me? Why? How?"

You shook your head. "What do you want?"

Jeongguk kissed a path from your belly to the waistband of your panties. "Can't you guess?" His eyes closed as he nuzzled his nose to your pubis. "I just woke up. I want a snack."

You hesitated. "You don't have to…"

He immediately lifted his head and looked away, his expression absolutely transparent with emotion. "You don't want me to?" He said, worrying his lower lip.

You blinked, at a loss. "It's… I don't know. Why?"

"I want you." He said bluntly, his face and neck blushing. "You always make it so good. I want to taste you." He brushed his lips against your thigh, hiding from your incredulous stare. He took your hesitation for reluctance. "But if you don't want to it's okay." He parted from your crotch, climbing upwards and laying his head on your chest.

He never pushed you into this. He was always so delicate in terms of what you wanted. And he had never asked for more than what you had already offered him. It's not like he's never offered to go down on you. He has, very subtly, but you had somehow slalomed your way through his hints. You knew he would be patient, he would listen to your feedback and stop if you asked him to, but you had been there before with other people and you had no intention of undermining his confidence with your insecurities and limits. You didn’t want to fake it with him because first, probably he would know and second, that would mean undermining his confidence too. Plus you wouldn't want to spark his competitive side, setting him off on an impossible quest. No orgasm from oral sex in your life. It was good like that. You could live through it.

"I just think we should talk about this." He said shyly, slightly confused — or maybe sad? You couldn't properly interpret his tone without seeing his expression. "You do it all the time for me. It feels unfair." He explained, feeling extremely sorry for what he perceived as one of his many shortcomings. "I just want to please you." He said, his voice begging.

"Googie." You called simply. "It's just that I don't need you to do that to please me."

"I've never done it before." He said, quietly.

You froze midtrack. You were both beginners at this. So maybe… Maybe you could both figure it out. "See, I've always sidestepped the topic because, well… I've tried this before and I’ve never liked it much. It was frustrating and they always kept going even though I asked them to stop. They always said 'oh, I'm gonna change your mind' and stuff. And in the end I always got tired and angry and I always faked it." You combed his hair with your fingers. "I don't want to disappoint you. Or make you waste your time."

He raised his head, propping his chin on your breastbone. "It’s not a waste of time. I want to do this because I want to kiss you there. Taste you. Show you I want to please you. It has nothing to do with making you cum. Sure it’s a nice optional, but that’s it.” He rambled bluntly. “Anyone who does it so that they are just proud of their skill are missing out on the intimacy of it. You should do it to show that you care, not to show that you’re good at it.” He said, getting quite upset over the selfishness of your exes. “I… I think we could give it a try. Just once. Whenever you're ready." He offered as calmly and kindly as his enthusiasm allowed.

Seeing him so excited had you doubtful but optimistic. "Just promise me that you won't get upset if I don't…"

He pouted, his expression melting at your vulnerability. “I won’t get upset. I will stop and make love to you, if you want to. Or I’ll just go grab a snack and we can watch something on the tv or play games, whatever...” He reassured you, holding your hand.

You curled your lips and looked up, away from him as you sweetened your voice. “Can we try?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t mean we have to try now, but if you’re ready then I’m ready.”

“I want to.” You said definitively.

He stretched to kiss your lips. “Just tell me when it feels good.”

You smiled and bent your legs at the knees, opening them for him. "I promise I will.”

“Perfect.” He started kissing down your torso, still covered by his shirt. You didn’t make to remove it, and he ignored it, his attention focused elsewhere. A chill ran down our spine as you felt the heat of his naked torso leave your upper half, your nipples hardening in the process. "We're only doing this so you feel good." He lifted the t-shirt with his pinkie finger, kissing and nibbling the tender skin of your belly. "If you change your mind, just tell me." He said, gently pressing his lips to your hipbones, first your left, then your right one. "It's an experiment.” He pouted against your belly button. "I’m only trying to show you how much I want to make you feel good. And maybe I'll have beginner’s luck." He shrugged smiling demurely to himself before placing his mouth on your mound.

He teased it delicately, just bringing his lips side to side over the fabric of your panties. His shoulders and arms moved below your bent legs, hooking around your thighs, his hands meeting yours on your navel. "I just want your taste. The rest is useless. I don't need you to cum." He said, as reassuring as possible while his ears blushed.

"You're sharing your feelings with me, Gguk. You're doing amazing, baby." You cheered him on, trying to encourage him. "Are you happy, love?" You tested the nickname on your tongue for the first time.

His reaction was impeccable. "I am ecstatic." He kissed your clit chastely through the fabric. "Also, starving."

You moaned in delight. His naked torso between your spread legs was a vision to behold, especially as you observed the muscles of his back fluttering. "And who am I to deny my boy a snack?"

He lowered his head, licking the gusset of your panties, now almost soaked through. "Oh, I'm your boy?" He asked you cutely.

"You are, Googie." You said, one hand leaving his to stroke his long bangs away from his face.

"Your boy." He teased. "Boy." He snarled. "As if I haven't fucked your brains a hundred times already."

You grinned and pushed your hips up against his face. "I can't wait for that."

With a bunny smile he dragged your hand down to the waistband of your panties. "Do you want to touch yourself?” He asked, this time without a blush.

The shift was always fascinating. One moment he couldn’t even say the word “cunt” and the second he was calling you his pretty fuckdoll, grabbing your waist and making you bounce on his cock as you rode him.

“Mmh…” You thought about it. “What if…” You took the lead over your joined hands, dragging both yours and his to the gusset, hooking your digit into the fabric and slipping it to the side, baring yourself.

“Smell so good…” He said, looking in your eyes as his tongue lolled out and slipped up along your slit.

A long moan escaped your mouth. “Gguk.”

He ended his swipe with a kiss, parting from you. “Yes, honey?”

“Take ‘em off.” You whispered. “Please.”

He grinned and left your hands, his fingers gripping the fabric on your hips, and tugging downwards.

You both fumbled a little until your panties reached your ankles and he aggressively took them off and away. He regained his position, this time with much more gentleness.

“Direct me.” He asked, his thumb grazing your clit.

You closed your eyes, biting your lip and focusing on the feeling between your legs, “More to… there.” You huffed, your legs parting even further.

His mouth stretched into a smile as he kissed the warm, moist skin of your labia. Humming, he opened his lips just barely, using the velvety inner side of them to encompass first your left side, his tongue teasing the skin as he sucked it gently.

You were getting wet, and it wasn’t because of his drool. You were liking it, a lot.

It wasn’t just someone placing their o-shaped mouth against your crotch and humming. He wasn’t drawing the alphabet on your clit or doing fancy business with his tongue in your hole. He was making out with your cunt. It felt amazing.

"I like what you're doing, Gguk." You reminded yourself to lead him.

He nodded and moved to the other side, doing just the same, his lips trapping your flesh and sucking on it gently, his tongue lashing at it. You pushed your hips against him, trying to gain some pressure on your clit, currently under his thumb.

Noticing that your wetness had started oozing from your core, mixing with his drool, he licked it like a dripping ice cream, the motion producing a loud slurping sound. The upward flick of his tongue had you squeaming. "That's very very—" You stopped mid-sentence to release a skittish moan. "More, Jeongguk, please." You begged, his hand leaving your clit to wrap around your wrists and bring your palms to the crown of his head.

Now happy with the new position he started licking you, using the hard flat of his tongue to push your clit up, exposing the tender nerves which rarely received such an intense stimulation.

And then you felt it. The tightening of your core, the sudden need to hold your breath and tense your legs.

"Gguk, baby, you're doing incredible." You didn't know the exact ingredient that made his technique work on you, probably the mix of pressure and motion, which to your memory you had never experienced before.

His tongue almost cramping, Jeongguk took a pause, sucking on the apex of your labia. You whined.

"Sorry, sweetie. I need a second." He muttered apologetically. "Any feedback for me?" He asked.

You shook your head, a whine escaping when he unhooked one of his arms from your hips and slid two fingers between your thighs, into your cunt, crooking them in that way that always had your legs shaking. You moaned and threw your head back.

"Feedback, darling?" He reminded you with a teasing smile.

"Keep doing that licking thing." You whined.

He smirked. "This?" He asked, sucking your labium and teasing it with the tip of the tongue.

"No Gguk!" You cried out.

He released your left fold. "Oh! You mean the other side?" He said, before mirroring the gesture there.

You shook your head, gripping his hair and pulling, trying to move his mouth upwards. His fingers inside you were bringing you closer and closer. "Make me cum, Gguk. I want your tongue on my clit, please."

He let go of your skin with a pop. "That's what you want, baby?" He asked, looking into your eyes. "Are you really that close?"

You nodded with fervour before pushing his lips to your bundle of nerves.

With the perfect flick and swipe he found the right spot once more, the motion so natural and easy to him that with a couple strokes he had you on the verge of your high.

"Gguk, baby… So good. I'm… I can't believe it, baby. There…" You babbled until you felt your hips snap, his tattooed forearm pinning you down while your body abandoned itself to the throes of ecstasy. You didn't realise your grip on him was becoming painful, and neither did he, being so focused on your reaction.

His fingers kept stretching your inner walls, making you forget that sense of emptiness that always had you dissatisfied with your orgasms while he was away.

When your body went limp and released all the tension, melting on the bed, he let go of you, gently removing his fingers to suck at your wetness with a moan. "You look so pretty." He murmured simply while you were still recovering.

Slowly, he climbed up your body, laying down at your side. "Are you okay, Candy?"

You nodded unconsciously, curling onto your side and hiding against him. "That was insane." You whispered, still panting, a phantom touch making you quiver.

He too huffed a heavy breath of exertion, smiling with his eyes closed. "I'm glad I broke the spell." He spoke quietly with a giggle.

"I wanna blow you." You said neutrally.

He wrapped his arms around you. "Before we do that, I must tell you that I thought about what you said. About me not looking at you."

You opened your eyes and tried to focus. "You know I said that but it's not a big deal? I totally overreacted and said that just to pick a fight—"

"The point is that you said that." He objected, dragging his fingertips up and down your spine. "So it must mean something." He kicked his lips nervously. "You know that most times I don't look at you only because I get shy. And then because I find it hot." He explained, hiding from your gaze. "I know that if I looked at you, I would make a fool of myself. I would just come apart straight away like a boy."

You tutted, confused. "And what's wrong with that?"

He shook his head and laughed. "You always say I'm your boy." He got really quiet, his voice soft and delicate. "I just wish I were your man."

You exhaled. "How much you last has nothing to do with that. Honestly, I do see you as a man. However I love your delicate, emotional, more innocent side, just as much as I love your demanding, strong and mature one." You kissed his chest. "I feel a lot of fondness for you, and it makes me want to protect you, and call you my boy, because this feels so sweet all the time and you're so romantic." You caressed his face and made him look at you. "But I don't want you to perceive that as a threat to your manhood. I don't see it like that." You brought his palm to your lips and then laid it on your breast, leading his hand into squeezing your flesh. "I know when you're my boy and when you're my man. Sometimes they mingle and it's nice, you get playful and domineering at the same time and it's amazing. Sometimes it's just delicate and emotional, other times it's raw and crude. I love it." You laughed as you thought about it. "I've never had all this variety in my whole life. This feels new." You let go of his hand as he started moving to his own taste and pattern.

He lifted his gaze from your chest to your face, blinking slowly. "So it's okay? We're okay?" He checked.

"We are." You replied warmly.

"So it worked… Down there?" He questioned, biting his lip. "I mean, I kinda get you liked it, just…"

You laughed again. "I liked it, yeah. Hell, I came so fast." You blushed, surprised. "And yeah. You definitely did the right moves." You combed his damp hair back. "Let me thank you properly.” You grinned, laying on top of him and straddling his waist, sitting back on your knees and taking off your shirt.

Jeongguk blushed and chuckled, his eyes going to your perky nipples while you were busy removing your garment. As you re-emerged, you noticed his gaze move upwards, acting as if he hadn’t been staring at your tits.

"Keep looking, come on." You spurred him on as he smirked at you. Slowly you backed from his lap to his knees, dragging your nails along the V-shaped indentation at his waist, capturing the waistband of his boxers in the process and pushing it all the way down his thighs and kneecaps; finally he removed the garment completely with small kicks of his legs. Right in front of you, you spotted his erection. He looked so magnificent with a slight upward curve that replaced the thickness and length that some of your exes had. And god, he was dripping already.

You bent over him, giving a slow lick from base to tip. You looked up, expecting to see his head tipped back, eyes closed, lips parted gently as he moaned for you. Instead he was propped up against the pillow, wide bambi eyes glued to you, staring.

"Choose. Either I stare and cum in a minute or I look away and we take our time." He said and you barely understood how he switched from your cute boyfriend to a sexy, dark dom.

"Eyes on me."

"Then make the show worthy, Honeybun." He smirked.

You went straight for it, gripping the base hard and wrapping your mouth around the spongy tip, sucking.

"Oh God. More, Candy. Your mouth is a miracle, ____."

You felt proud. He always lost his mind with the way you sucked him.

"Are you proud of yourself?" He asked, looking at the way his length disappeared in your mouth.

Releasing him, you licked his slit, capturing his taste and nodding.

“My dirty, dirty girl.” He muttered as you scratched his thighs, your head working a few inches of his length before sinking down. “Fuck, Candy. Yes.”

You sucked harder, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“You look so good, honey.” He praised you, “You’re gonna ruin me, ____. Look at me.” He whined, placing his hands in your hair and pushing your head up, making you look at him.

You let him slip out of your mouth. “Does it feel good?” You asked, devilish.

He nodded, caressing your face.

“Then why aren’t you cumming yet?” You said, raising an eyebrow.

His mouth opened in shock before he gripped himself with one hand and brought his tip to the seam of your lips. “Open up.”

You let your tongue slip out, taking a kittenish lick before whispering, “Then keep your eyes on me.”

His eyes locked with yours. “Open up.” He repeated.

You smiled and took him in.

His moan was divine, his eyelids fluttering as he tried not to close his eyes. “Take it all. Candy.”

You moaned and his hips jumped slightly, making you focus on your throat, trying not to gag. Your drool dripped all over him as you released his cock, twin tears running down your cheeks after his intrusion.

“Was that too much, honey?” He cupped your jaw and dried the stain. “Did I move too fast?”

You denied, eyes still on him as you started pumping his shaft, repeatedly hollowing your cheeks with a pulsating pattern.

“Oh fuck! Keep doing that, Candy!” His voice was rumbly, his accent thicker with the gentle lisp of his dialect, his brow furrowed and his beautiful, expressive eyes were on you, taking in every single one of your moves. His pupils were dilated, darkness and desire swirling there with repressed intensity, his jaw locked tight as he tried not to snap his hips upward. “Candy I’m gonna—”

You swallowed him, your nose reaching an inch from the base, your gaze still focused on him.

This time he couldn’t control himself: he thrusted in, his hands gripping your hair but leaving you free to move, in case he went too deep. What truly amazed you was the way he moaned out your name, his chest deflating, his eyebrows lowering and his eyes narrowing, but staying as open as he could muster. He looked sex-addled and blissed-out.

He looked beautiful. He looked as beatific as he could ever possibly get. His bare chest was flushed, his nipples hard, his biceps bulging with the way he was tightening his fists. “Candy, honey?”

His voice was so sweet and tender compared to the way he had growled your name almost a minute ago.

You gently let him slip out, his cock laying half-hard on his stomach. "Yeah?"

"Come here." He whispered, inviting you up towards him.

You climbed his body.

He was breathing heavily. He looked at your stomach, trying to think how to say this properly. He exhaled. And then spoke. "I know you might want to venture in more kinky stuff." He explained. "And I want to do that too. It's just that I'm still pretty new to the basic stuff, so I think I'd like to get good at that before we explore the kinky stuff."

You raised your eyebrows, quite unsure where all of this was coming from. As you got ready to say 'okay' he started speaking again.

"However, there's a thing I'd like to try…" His sentence ended with an upward intonation, making it sound like a question.

"What is it, love?" You asked, worried and curious.

He blushed and hid his face behind his hands. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you calling me that." He goofed.

You pouted, absolutely endeared, laying down on top of him and placing your head on his chest, kissing his breastbone. "Tell me what you want, Googie." You gave him another kiss. "You know I won't deny you."

You felt his chest inflate before his breath fanned over your hair. "I want you to use your breasts… There."

You licked your lips. "Holy fuck, Gguk." You took a few seconds. Slowly, you started kissing down his chest, stopping every now and then to suck at his bronzed, taut skin.

He moaned as you bit gently at his abs. "Is this really happening?"

You nodded, giggling. "Yes, baby." You brushed the tip of your nose on the ridge of his upper abs.

He whined. "I want the other nickname."

You laid your chest on top of his lap, making your breasts rock from side to side. "Oh, you're getting picky, love."

His gentle moan stopped at his throat, changing in a raspy groan as you gripped the sides of your boobs and squished them together, engulfing the top of his hard-on.

"Like this?" You asked, starting to slide on him. Next time you intended to do this, you'd better have him slippery, but for this time you'd make it work.

"Yes, Candy." This time he did let his head tip back and his eyelids roll close. He was a vision to behold. You felt him get harder and harder, already pulsating. When you felt him starting to twitch you looked up.

He was staring and he looked ravenous. Keeping eye contact, you licked your lips and stretched your tongue out, teasing his tip.

"Fuck me, Candy. Fuck. Get on that dick, baby. Ride me." He ordered.

Smiling to yourself you straddled his hips and grabbed his cock, using your slickness to rub his head over your slit, pushing him in and sliding down slowly. He groaned at that while you hummed, focusing on taking him a bit at a time. "Please, Candy." He growled, biting his lip and looking at your face. "Touch yourself. Wanna feel you cum." He said as soon as you sat on top of him.

Bringing your middle and ring finger to your lips, you soaked them in your saliva, a string of it connecting your tongue to your digits as you extracted them and moved them south. You immediately found your clit and started drawing slow circles.

"Cum, Candy." He whispered.

"Give me a couple minutes." You reprimanded embarrassedly. "I need to–" You moaned as he gave the smallest push of his hips.

"Stay there. Keep touching yourself." He ordered, circling his hips gently. You started moving yourself, trying to slide up but he blocked your hips. "No. Want to feel all of it. Don't move."

He was filling you, his shaft moving with small motions. However the fullness turned out to be particularly effective, somehow making your inner nerve endings more sensitive to the movements of your fingers. "Gguk."

"Keep quiet unless you're cummin, honey."

You simply bit your lower lip and obeyed, focusing on your task. As your breathing grew erratic, you felt Jeongguk's lips meet your left nipple, sucking it until your hips snapped and your climax dawned over you. You screamed his name, loud and proud while he pounced on you, throwing you with your back to the mattress, hammering into you with a speed no man had ever fucked you to before.

"Say it, Candy." He growled.

You panicked. What could he possibly want? You went for the classic. "You're the fucking best." You murmured.

He snickered, hitting you with a punishing thrust. "Try again."

Your brain felt like a juggler losing control of his trick, too fucked out to actually find the right words. "You're my perfect man."

He tutted and gave you an harsh glance. "Don't make me ask you again."

"I don't know Jeongguk, please. I'm sorry." You cried out, your body going haywire with overstimulation. "Please, slow down, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't want to leave you." You babbled, reminding yourself of the hard time you had given both of you with your separation. "Please, it was a mistake. I was dumb. I love you, Gguk, please." You kept begging.

"Again." He groaned through his laboured breath.

"I made a mistake. Please, forgive me. I love you." You begged.

"That's it." He huffed out. "You love me." He repeated himself, his thrusts growing sloppy.

That’s it. "I love you." You repeated. "I love you," You kissed his bicep and stretched to his lips. "I love you."

He groaned your name and collapsed on top of you. "You love me." He whispered.

You simply nodded. "I do." You shivered as he gave the last few pushes.

"I do." He repeated.

Your heart did a somersault at that. You would unravel those two words later, since you knew he was probably just fucked out and incoherent, absolutely unconscious of what he was actually saying. You caressed his hair tenderly.

"I want to stay inside." He whispered, getting sleepy. "You feel so good." He got comfortable, rolling both of you on your side so he wouldn’t smash you with his weight. "I don’t ever want to give this up."

This was the moment when his tongue grew loose, when he would just let himself confess all those things that worried him, that buzzed through his mind but that he didn’t want to validate by speaking them out loud.

"I missed feeling this free with you." His eyes were closed, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other laying on your hip as his palm gripped your ass. "You have no idea how happy I am when I’m with you like this. I lost my mind thinking that last time would be our last time forever."

You tutted at him, touching his face.

"I kept thinking you were doing it with someone else. I was furious. And before I went to bed I always thought of you. How difficult it feels to fall asleep without you by my side."

"I’m not your ex, Googie. I don’t solve problems between us by going to someone else." You ran your palm down his spine, playfully patting his behind. "And I’m in love with you. That means I can’t think of anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. And no one else can give me what I have with you."

He kissed the top of your head. "I will take care of you." He promised. "I will keep going. Until there’s no doubt left. Until I can love you like you deserve." He yawned.

"We’ll be alright."

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