#you sacrificed our relationship for yours with a man

[bixels]

Taking the current topic as an excuse to ask you to tell me all the reasons you love Rarijack. Your art for the ship is so sweet and intimate I'd love to hear any in depth thoughts you have.

Breathes in.

I think what makes their dynamic really strong is that they have opposing personalities but aligned values. It's deeper than just "opposites attract." Rarity's fancy, prissy, and femme while Applejack's modest, rough, and "masculine." But both value hard work (to the point of being workaholics), their families (both have guardianship over their little sisters), running successful businesses, and eventually each other. Their relationship can be boiled down to, "Despite our differences/disagreements, I still like you because we value the same things."

We see their relationship develop so much. In the first season, they can't stop bickering about surface-level differences. By season four, they still bicker, but will mend their relationship because they can't help but do nice things for each other. In Trade Ya, they start off arguing over personality differences (Applejack likes old junk and Rarity likes useless crap). Then they pivot and start arguing that they value their relationship more than the other. In the end, they mend things by sacrificing their needs and buying each other a gift. Even if they don't understand it, they know it'd make the other happy. And that's all that really matters. It's a genuinely sweet moment that shows how arguing can be healthy and necessary for relationships to strengthen.

We even see them dropping their hang-ups about each others' personalities. In Made in Manehattan, when Rarity runs off in dramatics about someone's fashion, AJ doesn't roll her eyes or scoff, she smiles. Oftentimes, their conflicts are very common domestic conflicts romantic couples face. Applejack's Day Off is about a woman's inability to balance work and life and find time to properly spend with her partner, causing her partner to feel neglected.

By season seven, they're actively participating in each others' interests. Any problems or conflicts that arise are dealt with, and they come out the other end stronger and closer. In Honest Apple, AJ pretty much spells out why their relationship works so well: even though she doesn't understand fashion, she can recognize and appreciate how much work it takes and wants to respect that. When she realizes her mistake in the episode, AJ goes above and beyond to fix things and apologize to Rarity. They care about each other so much.

The two go out of their way, sacrificing their personal desires and beliefs and doing things they normally wouldn't, to make the other happy. That's just love.

There's Simple Ways, where AJ gets stuck in an unwanted love triangle between Rarity and her hipster crush. And her frustration and anger can be so easily interpreted as AJ finding herself in a terrible position; the girl she loves wants another man, and that man wants her.

I dunno. I've always had a preference for opposites attract ships, but Rarijack's stuck with me like a brain worm because they have the perfect chemistry. The way they show they care, or do things for each other, I've always read it as the truest representation of romance in the show.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Best Way to Celebrate A Birthday, ft. tripleS Nien

tags: anal, daddy kink, creampie (both type)

author's note: whew, I've finally managed to finish this fic despite the distraction that is NBA playoffs. Thank you always for reading my stuff, hope you like this one as well <3

p.s. send me your asks

edit: forgor to put the word count smh my head

word count: 5,8k+

”Oppa, you’ll be home for our birthday, right? I would love to celebrate with you”.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss our birthday, ever”.

That was the conversation you had had with Nien over dinner last week before you left for a business trip. You finished everything you had to do just in time to go home and celebrate this year’s birthday. Never in a million years did you think you would be in a relationship with someone who has the same birthday as you, but here you are, sharing a birthday with your girlfriend.

You’re speeding through the highway in your car; Google Maps says that you’ll get home at around 8pm. There will be plenty of time to celebrate; “just need to go home fast,” you think to yourself. Your car is more than capable of cruising at high speed without sacrificing comfort—shoutout to the Germans for their genius engineering minds. You turn up the music volume a little bit as you keep on driving through the dimly lit roads—"man, tripleS is great to listen to in the car; should tell Nien about them,” you think to yourself as Heavy Metal Wings plays over the speakers.

After getting off the highway, you find yourself close to the downtown area where your apartment is. It is now time to sway and swerve your way through city traffic—15 minutes until you get home, Maps says. You’re driving more dangerously now, as proven by other motorists’ horns that you hear every time you make a move on someone in traffic. “Do these people not have places to be?,” you say as you overtake a slower-moving car; you look over and find out that the other driver is distracted by his phone, “get off your phone, man; you’re on the road!,” you yell in annoyance. With every move you make on other drivers, you’re getting closer and closer to home; you silently hope that you’re not going to get a ticket for reckless driving or something of the sort.

-

You finally see your building after sailing the sea that is downtown traffic. Tap your resident card at the gate and go to your reserved parking spot; “cool, Nien is home,” you say as you see Nien’s car on one of the two spots you have. You get out of the car, caring less if it’s parked perfectly, and head to the elevator, impatient to come home to your girlfriend’s warm embrace after a long week of business trip.

You finally reach your door after a short elevator ride. You knock on the door before entering the passcode; “huh, no sound of Nien,” you think to yourself. You then open the door and almost pass out from shock: Nien is standing right behind the door to surprise you. “Why, hello there,” she says as she reaches out to hug you, “welcome home, oppa. I’ve missed you”. You enter her embrace and immediately feel her warmth that you’ve missed. “Hey, baby,” you say to her before kissing her, “I hope I’m not too late for our birthday”. “The food just arrived so I’d say you’re just in time,” she says as she drags you to the kitchen. You see that she has ordered burgers, pizza, and drinks from your favorite place, as they’re spread all over the dining table. You pull a chair for Nien and wait for her to sit on it before sitting on the other side. “Happy birthday, oppa,” she says. “Happy birthday to you as well, hon,” you reciprocate her sweetness. “So how was the trip?”, she asks as she takes a bite of pizza. “It was boring but necessary, just like all the other ones,” you say to her. “You live a boring life so that I can live a fun one,” she says before letting out a laugh. She’s right, though; you’re working day and night so that you can provide for the two of you—not that Nien is uncapable of doing so herself, it’s just that you two have agreed to do it like this after you had expressed your desire to work and convinced Nien to stay at home.

-

You two spend an hour eating and catching up. Nien tells you about the horror dramas and movies that she has watched during the week. She also asks you to tell her about the things you’ve done during the trip. You don’t want to bore her with your stories but since she insists, you have no choice but to tell her. You know that it is boring, but you see that Nien is paying close attention to everything you’re saying, which you find to be touching. You two keep exchanging stories back and forth until the food runs out, and that is when she invites you to her next agenda. “Let’s continue celebrating, oppa,” she says. “Wait here and don’t enter the bedroom until I tell you to,” she tells you as she retreats into the bedroom, winking at you as she does. You decide to clean up the trash while she gets ready for whatever she has in mind. As soon as you’re done, Nien yells out to you, “I’m ready when you are, oppa”. You’re as excited as you’re confused with what she has come up with, so you immediately make your way to the bedroom.

“Coming in,” you announce as you knock and open the door. Your jaw drops at the sight in front of you: she’s wearing a sleeveless top and shorts that barely cover half her thighs and a sleeping mask is hanging around her neck. “I know you love it when I wear this sort of clothing,” she says. “What do you have in mind, sweetie?”, you walk up to her. “I’m thinking we can have some fun,” she says as she wraps her arms around your nape, “you look tired, though,” she adds, disappointment in her voice. “You know I’ll do my best for you, love”, you say, putting your arms around her waist. She smiles lovingly at your words, “The best is exactly what I need from you,” she says before pulling away and opening the wardrobe. She grabs a vibrator from the wardrobe and hands you the remote, “you know what to do,” she says before inserting the vibrator into her pussy. She then lays on the bed and puts the sleeping mask over her eyes.

“Oh, almost forgot,” she removes her sleeping mask, gets up from the bed, and head to the wardrobe. “I’ve been trying stuff, you see,” she says as she shows you her anal plug. “Would you do the honors?”, she says as she hands you the plug and bends over in front of you. You don’t want to hurt her, so you cover the plug with your saliva before putting it in her ass. You tap her butt cheeks and she spreads them for you. You slowly push the plug into her ass and lodge it in, making her let out a soft moan. “Oh my, I feel so full already”, she says, referring to the vibrator in her pussy and the plug in her ass. “Imagine if I have my cock in one of those holes,” you give her cheek a slap. “That’s the plan, but now—” she says as she climbs into the bed again and cover her eyes, “make me cum with these, please”. You grab the remote she gave you earlier and set the vibrator on the lowest speed, to which Nien lets out a small moan. “I’m so wet for you right now,” she says between moans, “I’ve missed you so much, oppa”. She’s squirming around in bed as you fiddle with the speed of the vibrator, turning it up and down every so often to stimulate her.

Judging by the way she’s moaning and squirming, you know that she’s getting close to her orgasm. You set the vibrator on the highest speed before you take off your clothes to get ready for some action. “Oppa, I’m about to cum!”, she exclaims. “Go on, baby. Let it all out”, you say, stroking your cock at the sight in front of you. “AHHH FUCK!”, she yells from the top of her lungs as her first orgasm tonight hits her. You stop stroking your cock and look at her, as she’s panting in bed from her orgasm. She then pulls the sleeping mask off and calls out to you, “take them out, oppa”, so you get in bed and pull the vibrator and the plug out. “I’m still not sure what the sleeping mask is for,” you say to her. She lets out a chuckle before answering, “oh, I just wanted to try some things”. You smile at her before coming in for a steamy kiss.

You fight her tongue with yours, as Nien lets out moans into the kiss. You keep pushing and pulling in the kiss until Nien pushes you away to take a breather, “the things you’re doing to me, oppa—I swear I’m going crazy”, she says while taking off everything she has on her body. You chuckle at her words and start kissing down her body, starting from her neck, shoulder, and then her breasts. She’s whining and rolling her body, as if trying to shove her breasts into your mouth. “You like them, oppa? They’re all yours,” she says before letting out a moan. You then suck hard on her left nipple while you pinch the right, making Nien scream in surprise. Unbeknownst to you, she starts rubbing herself and moaning louder, “O-oppa, I think I’m cumming again,” she tells you. “Here, let me help,” you say, bringing a hand to her pussy and rubbing it aggressively. After rubbing it for a bit, she suddenly announces her second orgasm to you, “I’M CUMMING AGAIN, FUCK!”, squirting her juices on to the bed. She immediately falls limp on her back, “my god, you’re killing me,” she says, as her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “Would you like to have some water?”, you ask. “I would like to have your cock”, she giggles, “just a second, though. Let me catch my breath”.

-

Despite Nien rejecting your offer for water, you leave to get some anyway; with what you have in mind, she’ll definitely need some later. You return to her and see that she’s now lying on her stomach. “Hi there”, she says when she sees you, “ready to have some fun?”. You laugh, “have we not been having fun?”. “We have, but the night is still young,” she says, “come on, oppa, take me. I need you”. At her request, you lie in bed next to her; “do you mind warming me up?”, you say to her. She then moves towards your cock and put it in her mouth. The comfortable warmth and wetness of her mouth makes you let out a sigh. You pet her head in bliss, and Nien takes it as a cue to keep going. She goes up and down your cock faster, coating it entirely with her saliva. “You’re so good, baby,” you say when you feel her tongue on your cock, “such a good girl, aren’t you?”. She gives you a wink, your cock still deep in her mouth. You hold the back of her head and tell her to brace herself. You then start thrusting up, hitting the deepest points of her mouth. She tries her best to not gag while you use her mouth like a fleshlight. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum”, you warn her before slamming your cock into her mouth, “take it like the good girl you are”. She does just that: she collects your cum in her mouth without letting a drop leak out. Once it’s all in her mouth, she swallows it in one go. “Oh, I’ve missed that taste”, she says, “that’s one hole you’ve cummed in, time for the next one”.

You pull her up and kiss her, the taste of cum still lingers on her lips. “I like how you don’t avoid kissing me after cumming in mouth”, she says. “I mean, it’s mine”, you say, shrugging. “True, but you know there are guys who don’t think the same”, she continues. “Come on, oppa. I need you to get hard again,” she strokes your half-hard cock. Once she’s satisfied with the stiffness, she sits on your thighs. “Would you look at that,” she says, pressing your cock against her stomach, “all the way to my belly button”. “So?”, you challenge her. “So, let’s put it where it belongs”, she aims your cock at her entrance and gradually goes down on it.

“Oh, fuck, so big”, she says with heavy breaths, “hope it’s tight enough for you”. You find her words to be absurd as she’s always tight and hot down there, so you say to her, “you’re always so tight, baby. No doubt about that”. She kisses you as a gesture of appreciation, “you always say nice things about me, oppa”. You want to reply again but your thoughts were cut off when she takes you in entirely and rolls her hips, throwing her head back in the process. She proceeds to ride you faster, letting out yelps between every moan. “If only I wasn’t on pills”, she says, “you would knock me up for sure”. You put a palm on her stomach and feel the subtle bulge your cock makes with every thrust; “tempted, aren’t you?”, she chuckles, “imagine what it would be like, oppa”.

Lust has completely filled the space in your head, and now you want to take control and do things your way. You roll over and switch positions with Nien, who’s now on her back underneath you. “Did I poke a nerve?”, she teases. “You did”, you chuckle as you palm her neck, “and now it’s on my terms”. You squeeze her neck and speed up your thrusts. You see that Nien’s eyes are rolling to the back of her head thanks to everything you’re doing to her. It also doesn't help that you’re restricting her airway, but she seems to be taking it well, as proven by her moans and grunts. That doesn't last long, though, as after around a dozen thrusts, she taps your arm repeatedly. Feeling merciful, you let go of her neck and let her breathe without letting up the action down below. “Oh, fuck”, she says, as she’s allowed to breathe, “oppa, you’re ruining me”. You laugh, “you’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?”, you say as you fold her legs and press them against her chest. Nien catches the signal right away and holds the back of her knees; “yes, yes, I’m your good girl, oppa—oh, fuck, please”, she screams when she feels your cock bottoming out in her pussy. “Fuck, you’re even tighter like this”, you then look down and see how your cock is slamming into her pussy and how it takes you oh-so-obediently; “if only I could take a picture right now”, you think to yourself.

You keep slamming into her aggressively, until she announces her impending orgasm. “Oppa, I’m-I’m—OH, FUCK!”, she can’t even finish her words, as her third orgasm tonight hits her like a truck. You keep fucking her through her orgasm because you’re naughty like that, until Nien begs you to stop, “pull out, let me catch my breath—fuck—please, please, oppa”. You don’t want to go beyond the line, so you pull out as she asks, groaning as her juices leak into the bed. “We’re gonna need to change the sheets tonight”, you say to her. Your exhausted girlfriend says none, opting to roll on to her stomach while letting out small whimpers. “I’m gonna feel this in the morning”, she grunts, “you must have missed me too”. “Of course, how can I not?”, you say while gently stroking her hair. “Here, have some water, hon”, you tell her as you put the bottle close to her lips. She takes a few sips before pushing the bottle away. “I knew you’d need it”, you tease her. “You’re going hard on me, oppa. I-I like it”, she says, her cheeks tinted in pink.

You let her catch her breath for a moment and lie down next to her. You praise her performance tonight, but there’s still a lingering question in your mind, “do I get to cum tonight, sweetie? I’m still hard, you see”. “Of course you do, but I’m too tired so you’ll have to take me like this”, she says, still lying on her stomach. You sneakily grab her butt plug before getting behind her. “Ass up, please”, you pull her waist up and line up her pussy with your cock. You stick your cock in her pussy not-so-gently, which makes her scream into the pillow in surprise. “Mmmh, so big, how do you fit inside me every time”, she softly says. Your ego is inflated even more and with it your lust is peaking again, so you slam your hips into hers roughly, earning moans and screams from your girlfriend. You hear her mumble something into the pillow, so you lean forward to catch what she’s saying, “say that again?”. She turns her head so that she isn’t talking into the pillow, “I love it, daddy”, she says, “you’re ruining me, and I love it”. “Yeah? Let’s see how you like this”, you say as you grab the plug and poke her ass with it. “Gently, please”, she says before hiding her face into the pillow. You cover the plug with your saliva again before inserting it in her ass, it goes in easier this time as her ass is more relaxed from her warmup earlier.

The plug is now perfectly snug in her ass. You pick up the speed of your thrusts again, and that’s when you hear a particularly loud scream from Nien. “DADDY, YOU’RE TEARING ME IN HALF”, she yells from the top of her lungs. She rests her head on the pillow again and whimpers, “daddy, slow down. Please, I’m begging you”. You slow down your thrusts and settle for slow but deep ones. You see that Nien has tears on her cheek, so you lean forward and wipe them with your thumb. “You okay, baby? Wanna say the safe word?”, you make sure she still consents with this. “N-no, I’m fine. I-I just felt like I was torn into two”, she replies. “I’m sorry, I’ll be gentler this time”, you stroke her back softly. “No, do as you wish. I’ll say the safe word if I really want to stop”, she tells you, determination in her gaze. “As you wish, love”, you say before kissing her sweaty back.

You start thrusting slowly and steadily again as you make sure Nien isn’t in pain. You see that her expressions have returned to a lustful one, so you know she’s enjoying this. You gradually pick up your speed and hit her deepest spots again; “she’s moaning again, must be enjoying it”, you think to yourself. Unfortunately for her, you’re one naughty customer; you decide to play with the plug in her ass by pulling it out partially and shoving it back in repeatedly. She doesn’t seem to mind, though; it’s just that her moans are louder, as if she was half-screaming. Your hand keeps pulling and pushing the same way your hips do, stimulating your girlfriend to get her to orgasm again. Her ass stretches when the bubble-like part of the plug almost comes out, which you find to be arousing. “Would you ever let me fuck your ass, baby?”, you ask her. “Mm-maybe—oh, fuck—maybe I would—daddy, I feel so full”.

You keep delivering steady and deep thrusts into her, until you hear your orgasm knocking on the front door. “Nien, I’m gonna cum soon”, you notify her. “Ah, ah—yes, give me your cum, daddy”. You spank her round and smooth butt cheeks until they’re bright red to distract yourself and delay your orgasm. Your orgasm is only delayed for but a moment, as you feel your cock twitch in her pussy. “Oh, fuck, take my cum, baby”, and with it, you’re filling your lovely girlfriend to the brim with your seed. She lets out a long moan as she feels your cum flow into her, “oh my god, that’s so warm”, she sighs, “thank you, daddy. I love you”, she adds.

You pull out your half-hard cock out of her pussy and your cum drips out of her lower lips right away. “Naughty girl, you’re supposed to keep it all in”, you spank her butt cheeks again. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, daddy. You’re gonna make it leak more if you keep spanking me”, she pleas. “I don’t care, I’ll just fill you again. Not without punishment, though”, you smack her ass harder until it’s as red as a tomato. She gathers the last bit of strength she has remaining and rolls on to her back to hide her ass from you, “daddy, it hurts, please”, she says. You’re dumbfounded; have you crossed the line? Have you really hurt her? These questions ring in your head endlessly. “There’s a way to fix this, though”, your brain tells you. “I’m sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?”, you say, taking her hand and rubbing the back of it softly. “You-you did, but it’s okay. Nothing I can’t take”, you know that she’s pretending to be okay—she’s lying down languidly in front of you; she’s worn out. “Wait here, okay?”, you kiss her forehead before leaving to get a wet towel.

“Come here, baby”, you pull her up and have her sit on the bed. You start wiping the entirety of her body to clean her up before going to bed. Once you’re done, you carry Nien to the armchair and have her sit there so you can change the sheets that were soaked with cum. Nien covers her face with her hands when you show her the wet spots on the sheets, “that was your fault”, she says. You let out a laugh in agreement and finish changing the sheets. You carry her from the armchair back to the bed and put her down on her stomach. “Um, what are you doing?”, she’s concerned that maybe you’re not ready to call it a night yet. “Nothing, baby. Just stay still, please”, you start rubbing her butt cheeks—which have been tinted in red by your hands—softly to help ease the pain. “I’m so sorry, I went too hard on you”, you bring a hand to her head to stroke her hair. “It’s okay, I know you’ve been frustrated”, she sighs in relief, “your aftercare always feels so nice, oppa”. You reach to the space between her cheeks and pull out the plug, to which her asshole responds by winking at you.

You put on a pair of shorts and big-spoon Nien, ready to get some sleep after dressing her in a tank top and shorts. “Oppa”, she turns around to see you, “I love you”. You pull her into a kiss and peck her forehead, “I love you more”. “Aww, really?”, her eyes widen with love, “I really love you so much, though”. “Yes, baby. I love you so much more”, you laugh, “let’s try and get some sleep, love”. “Sure. Happy birthday to both of us. Good night”, she turns around again and becomes your small spoon.

Not long after saying good night, you go straight to dream land. As someone who can comprehend his dreams, you’re shown a recap of things you have done throughout the week, presented in a series of images—the people whose hands you shook, the food you ate, and places you visited. Sleep feels nice and peaceful, as you manage to sleep through the night and wake up the following morning.

-

 You feel Nien poking your cheek repeatedly; “oppa, wake up”, she softly pinches your cheek. “Ngh, what time is it?”, you try to gather your soul. “It’s around 4 am, and it’s Monday”, she says. “Can’t we sleep more? I already told the secretary I’m taking today off”, you’re fully awake now thanks to her efforts. “You can sleep more if you want to, I just want to do this”, she gets away from your embrace and pulls your shorts off. You decide to play along and cooperate with Nien. She strokes your length to get it hard; “what do you have in mind?”, you inquire. “I wanna stuff my face with your cock”, she says, “now get hard for me, daddy”. She does as she says and takes your entire shaft deep right away. The sounds she’s making with your cock arouse you, and your cock is now rock hard in her mouth.

If you weren’t already fully awake from earlier, you sure are now. Nien is going up and down your cock, taking you deep in her mouth consistently. You can feel that you’re hitting the back of her throat every odd move, which makes her gag every time. She goes up for a breather, “I’m so lucky my boyfriend has a huge cock”, she wipes the leaked spit on her face. “Oh, please—I’m the lucky one”, you groan in satisfaction. You can spend all day arguing who’s luckier to be dating the other, but it’s clear that you’re thankful for each other. “Fuck, that feels good”, you sigh when she runs her tongue on your cock, “you’re so good, baby”. She chuckles, “only for you, daddy. No one else deserves me the same way you do”. You give her a nod as she takes you deep in her throat one more time. She fights her gag reflex as she presses her face against your crotch—you’re not holding her head and she’s doing this on her own, life is great for you right now. “You’re fully awake, aren’t you?”, she strokes your cock fast, “can’t have you cum yet, though”. She gets off the bed and digs through her handbag, and you can’t help but observe. “You know what this is, daddy?”, she shows you a bottle of lube—“I’m getting in her ass!”, your excitement goes through the roof.

She takes some lube in her hand and covers your cock with it. She pulls you to a sitting position and pecks your lips before getting on her hands and knees. “Take me, daddy; stretch me, ruin me, do what you want to me”, she tells you, and you’re more than willing to oblige. You get behind her and spread her ass to get access to her puckered hole. To Nien’s surprise, you don’t fuck her ass immediately, opting to bring your mouth to it instead. “I don’t mind having this as a regular thing”, you murmur before kissing her the forbidden hole. “Mm, I guess we can do that”, she moans when she feels your tongue on her asshole. You know how hard it is for a woman to take it up the ass—some avoid eating for hours before anal, some have a hard time training and getting used to it, and so on—so you decide to only play along when she wants it and not specifically ask to get in her ass.

After you feel like she’s warmed up enough, you press the tip of your cock on her rear entrance. She closes her eyes and grips the sheets when she feels you pushing into her ass. She breathes heavily when you have your tip in her ass, doing her best to get used to your cock stretching her asshole; “ngh, gently”, her voice weak from the stimulation. “You’re doing so well, love”, you rub the small of her back, “you’re my good girl”. You keep pushing until your shaft is fully buried in her ass. She throws her head back at the sensation, “oh, fuck, I’m-I’m so stretched”. You start moving your shaft back and forth in Nien’s ass, as she lets out loud moans and little screams. The sight in front of you—the way her ass is accommodating your girth and length so tightly—is truly intoxicating. You’re amazed that you have managed to fit in such a small hole—and so does she, “how can you fit in there, oppa?”. You have a rough estimate as to how, and that is because Nien is simply the best girl there is.

Nien has become more relaxed now, as you see that she’s no longer gripping the sheets with all her might. You push her back and make her rest her head on a pillow, while you steadily pump her ass. You happen to thrust a little bit too hard, making her lift her head and scream loudly, “FUCK, YOU’RE SO DEEP, DADDY”. “Can’t help it, baby; you’re just so tight”, you groan, “you’re doing so well for me”. You try your best to control the pace and make sure you don’t hurt her too much. You’re still naughty, though, as you pull her torso back up so that you can see her expressions on the mirror that is conveniently placed in front of the bed. You see that she’s making all kinds of faces while taking your cock in the ass—both pain and bliss are mixed in her face at the moment. “Look in the mirror, baby”, you pull her hair, “tell me what you see”. She sticks her tongue out lewdly, “I see someone who’s being a good girl for her daddy”. She then looks back at you lustfully, “harder, daddy”.

You tug her hair as you fuck her ass faster and harder; her moans turn to screams thanks to you. “Yes, daddy, yes”, she chants over and over as you slam your cock into her ass repeatedly. You glance at the clock hanging on the wall above the mirror; 4:50 am, it says—you’ve been fucking Nien in this position for over half an hour, so you decide that it’s time to switch things up.

You pull out your cock out of her ass and sit on the bed. You then ask Nien to ride you in a reverse cowgirl position and plunge into her ass again. You look at the mirror and see the way her tits bounce with every thrust you’re giving her. “Look at your tits”, you take her tits in your hands and play with them, “all for me”. “Ngh, ngh—yes, daddy. They’re yours—I’m yours—oh fuck, so big”, her breaths heavy from the action. You can’t be the only one chasing an orgasm, so you help her by reaching around and rubbing her clit. She leans back against your chest and yelps, “you’re going to make me cum, daddy”. “Go on, cum for your daddy”, you dip your fingers into her pussy to send her across the line.

“DADDY, I’M CUMMING AGAIN”, she screams before slumping forward. You stop pumping her ass and wait for her to come down from her high. You find it hot how she’s panting and trembling in front of you while your cock is still deep in her ass. Nien then looks back at you when she’s calmed down enough, “how far away is your orgasm, oppa? I’m—fuck—getting pretty tired”. “Honestly, not that far away with the way your ass is squeezing me right now”, you slowly start fucking her again. “Ngh—give me your cum again, daddy”, she’s slumped forward away from your body now, too tired to keep her back straight.

 After a handful of thrusts, your orgasm is at the door again. You notify her about your impending orgasm, and Nien in her exhausted state can only reply with a low groan. You keep pounding her ass until you feel that your cum is at the tip of your cock, ready to pour out into her ass. “I’m cumming, sweetie”, and with that, your lodge your cock in her ass as cum starts flowing out. “AH FUCK DADDY IT’S SO HOT”, she yells as she moves forward to take your cock out of her ass. You’re shown the gape you’ve made out of her asshole—it’s doing its best to return to its original shape before you stretched it. “God, that’s so hot”, you murmur to yourself. “You did so well, love. Thank you so much”, you kiss the back of her head, “come, let’s get comfortable”. You straighten her weak body and make her lie on her stomach before leaving to get another wet towel.

When you return to Nien, she doesn’t make any sound and you wonder if she’s passed out from exhaustion—she doesn’t respond when you touch her back, so you guess that she’s asleep. It doesn’t stop you from doing your responsibility of helping her clean up, though. You start from her back, which is covered in sweat for the second time tonight—that’s what sex in a hot summer night does to you—all the way down to her legs. You flip the towel and spread her cheeks so you can clean her used asshole, and that is when Nien screams in shock. “Please, please, not again”, her voice laced with panic. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, sweetie. I was just trying to help you clean up. Just breathe, baby”, you avoid touching her so that she doesn’t panic even more.

Once you feel like you’ve done a good enough job of cleaning her up, you flip her onto her side and spoon her like before. You whisper your gratefulness and satisfaction to her ears as a gesture of appreciation for what she’s done tonight. You’re curious, though; “how was it, baby?”. “You’re too big to go there, that’s for sure”, she says with an exhausted voice. “You did so well, though, so thank you for that”, you peck the back of her head. “Really?”, she turns around to see you, “thank you, oppa—I like being appreciated, you know?”. “You’re literally the best for me, love; I’m thankful for you, always. What do you want to do now?”. “Can we stay in bed for a few more hours? I don’t know if I have the energy to do things right now, thanks to you”, she slaps your chest lightly. “We sure can, we have today and tomorrow for ourselves. I love you, my little strawberry”, you peck her forehead and close your eyes to get some more sleep, and that is when you hear Nien say, “I love you too, daddy. Thank you for being who you are”, before letting out a soft sigh. You try your best to not shed a tear at her words, but you hear your heart say, “isn’t love the best thing in the world?”. Yes, love is indeed the best thing this world has to offer.

[anadiasmount]

teach me how to forget - jude bellingham x reader.

summary: this is mostly based on some lyrics from romeo santos songs. a not so girls trip but getting an unexpected call that leaves you thinking… i’ll leave it there *winks*

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: was in the mood to write and this was a request i had received so anon here you go :p i love toxic jude and i shall write what the girlies want :ppppo

This time of year was a time filled with love and warmth. The Christmas lights, the decorations, the hot cocoa, the feeling of giving back, the feeling of security. While those thoughts remained in your head, you were constantly reminded how single and lonely you were, especially when you decided to take a trip with your girlfriends and their partners. 

They laughed, rejoiced, hugged, smiled, and had that look of love every time they stared at them, you felt left out and felt the urge to have what they have. It wasn't jealousy or anger, you felt more than happy for them, but now the idea of love began to make you mad. You had given everything to him, and you would do it again only under different circumstances. 

It was your first serious relationship, well you thought, after the last one you had in high school. Serious as in you thought it would be the man you’d marry. The day every little girl wished for, though when growing up you hated it, why give so much commitment? But unexpectedly with his lies and broken promises, he changed your opinion about marriage. He changed your opinion about love.

You once looked at him with adoration in his eyes, hugged his bicep in public to send a message to others, kissed his cheek first and then his lips when he visited you or saw him after some time apart, you would giggle at night when talking about your futures together, the warm feeling inside never leaving your chest as he held you close to him. The way his soft brown eyes bore into yours when he left you. 

But he was never yours, there wasn't ever a label or words said to claim him as yours.

You poured your heart to him, asking him, you needed to know the why, to get rid of the heavy and painful feeling in your heart, that felt like it was being stabbed each minute that passed by. Couldn't he see it? Why was it so hard for him to see how much you were willing and had already sacrificed to be with him? Was the love you gave him ever enough, all the kisses, cries, laughter? 

For the first time in your life, you felt something real, a love like in the movies, yet this was actuality. No more good night calls or texts, cuddles, sharing a bathroom to get ready, or his big t-shirts, exchanging looks across the room which ended in the two of you going home, or kisses knowing that they were forbidden. In the end, whatever happened it happened for a reason. 

As much as it hurt and brought misery, you were able to reconstruct yourself. You tried to convince yourself this would be a lesson for the future, a lesson that was learned the hard way as not only you lost your best friend but also your first love. Love can be cruel and painful, but in the end, it brings two souls together that are meant to be. 

“Are you good babes? You look uncomfortable,” your friend joked, earning a small laugh from you. “I'm okay, just feeling very much like a third wheel,” you said honestly and shrugged your shoulders. This trip was planned at the last minute, a girls' trip to be said, but that changed when their partner tagged along, as it was conveniently their only time off from work. 

While it angered you and almost made you not come, you realized they also needed this with them, you couldn't be that careless and selfish, though you would keep it in mind for next time. You also had wasted your money on the trip so there was no backing out, you needed a deserved break from your busy life in Spain. 

“I promise tonight is our night. They guys are going to fish overnight by the bay so we can head to the club and drink till there’s no tomorrow,” she said cheerfully, giving you a side hug before standing up and walking over to the closet where your clothes hung. “How is it going with that guy Joel?” she questioned pulling out a couple of outfits for you. 

You grimaced and shook your head, “I don't see him like that… he’s amazing don’t get me wrong, but he’s kinda boring? I don’t know, he is marrying for image and I want something way different. The dates were fun but in the end, he’s looking for one thing and I don’t want that, you know?” you explained while fidgeting with your rings that suddenly felt loose. 

“But at the same time, when I'm with him, all I can feel is happiness. When he isn't being cocky or serious he treats me well, buys me flowers, and showers me with love. I feel like it feels so wrong, but at the same time, he is always there for me. He has seen me at my worst and hasn't once judged me for it.”

Your friend raised her brow and handed you a tight navy blue dress, “I understand, just have fun. You're single, sexy, an amazing woman, and independent. When the time is right, that person will appear,” she kissed your head and urged you to change. “I expect you to be the drunkest, don't think of him, he isn't worth your tears pretty.” 

With that she walked off, leaving you standing still, was she referring to Joel or Jude? She was right, no feelings could change the new ones you felt. 

It ended up being the complete opposite, your friends were all drunk and sang loudly to an old rock song, while you laughed and took small sips from your third cranberry vodka. You would join in at times, but their wobbly bodies made it hard as they would cling to you for support. The drunk selfies and videos you all took made them giggle as you all took a ride back home. 

Jude saw it all. He was watching but from his home in Spain. He felt the cold and empty space next to him. He realized it was becoming too much for him, and he had to do something about it. But he always held back knowing it wasn't fair on your part. You deserved to be happy after all the pain he caused. But knowing he fully hasn't apologized was killing him. Or the fact the picture of you laughing with another man built a rubble of jealousy in his chest.

His thumbs always found their way to your contact, where he had your name next to a white heart, and the contact picture he took when you accompanied him to Germany. It all felt so familiar to him, reminding him of the good times you’d spent together, whether it was in his home, the beloved coffee shop, or the bookstore in downtown London you love dearly. Your smile, the personality he envied because you were perfect, so pure, your eyes that said the truth, and hands that built warmth when he held or felt them. 

He missed you terribly, longing to hear your voice or see you even if it was for a second. He caved in and dialed you, coming face to face with your smile that shined bright as he heard the phone dial.

“If you need anything please let me know,” you said to your friend, who drunkenly fell asleep on her bed. You quickly showered and changed into your pajamas, putting your hair into a messy bun and laying down on the queen-sized bed. You scrolled through the TV and ate your salty crisps. You hadn't heard your phone ring, but when you saw two missed calls from his number you let out a huge gasp and sat upright. 

Your hand dragged across your forehead, the familiar feeling of fear and uneasiness hitting you again in a huge wave. You bit your nails and dropped your phone taking a huge gulp of water as your throat became dry. 

Hey. I called and you didn't answer. Can you call? 

Give me a second, is everything okay?

No. I’d like to talk to you about something. Please just answer. 

Why would he call? What was so important that made him call you twice and send you a message? You soon would find out as you heard your phone buzz again. Your heart raced again, banging loudly in your chest, everything in the room around you was bright and colourful, the cold sheets now hot, the crisps being hard to swallow, and the vibration of your phone reminding you he was waiting. 

“H-h-hello?” you said shaky, hearing the relief on the other end. Jude on the other end felt nervous, his airpods put away as he brought his phone closer to his ear to hear your voice clearer, to feel you. “Y/n hi. Hi, uh, hi…” Jude chuckled anxiously, biting his lip, forgetting why he even called. “Did you need something?” you said in a low voice, whispering almost, as you muted the TV. 

“I wanted to know something…” 

“Which is?”

“I wanted to know if you remember our trip to Munich after the season ended last year,” he said slowly, voice deeper than what you were used to. How could you forget that trip? Were you kissed for the first time and promised to be at each other's side no matter what went on? A deal is a deal, a promise is a promise, but you weren't sure why he was recalling this exact moment. “What are you trying to get at?” you said instead of responding to his question. 

“Answer the question… Do you remember the trip and what happened?” he asked again, leaving you confused and tugging your sheets up. “Yes. Of course, I remember,” you caved in, shutting your eyes, and attempting to calm your nerves. “And what did we promise, that we’d be there for each other, no?” he said. 

“Things changed Jude. You changed things when you decided to leave and walk out. I can't promise you that, because what you did in the end was break them. You want me to be there for you? What about that time I begged for you to stay so we could work it out, and you did the opposite? To give you that promise I would have to trust your word again…” you deadpanned seriously, feeling the bubble of anger construct in your chest, your knuckles white as you control the feeling. 

“You can't trust me?” Jude said softly and hurt. He knew he had hurt you, but for you to tell it and show it to his face was the least thing he expected. “No? How could I, when in the end you proved me wrong?” you said, but Jude had caught you when you didn't voice it, the no being a question instead of an answer. If he was there with you, your eyes would tell him the truth. 

“Are you happy with him? Does he know how much I consider him my enemy for having what belonged to me, even if the one to blame is me? That I envy him for being able to make you smile even the slightest bit when it should be me?” Jude says, leaving you dumbfounded before realizing why he called. “I'm tired of your silly games. You couldn't maintain a serious thing with me, and you have the nerve to call me about-”

“I saw you laugh, I saw you cry. I lived next to you. The best and worst chapters of our novel. From our history. If you taught me to love, also teach me to forget what I feel because you are the woman I love and want. I learned to love beside you, you taught me to love, but you didn't teach me what was harmful, that love was harmful…” he said breathlessly, your chest rising up and down as he confessed his pure feelings. 

“Jude-” 

“I love you so much that I'm afraid to see you again. I only relive those old memories where you'd sit on my bed, a warm cup of coffee in your hand as you watched your soap operas. I still read your love letters, in the hope that one day you’ll come back to me. Who will heal this pain that you left inside me when you went away? Whoever invented love, should have given instructions to avoid suffering,” you couldn't believe what you were hearing. 

The tears coming down your cheeks, and your hand covering your mouth to hide the loud sobs. He heard them, as a tear glided on his cheek wanting nothing more than to be there with you. But the same distance that separated the two of you, was the same reason he couldn't hold or have you anymore. 

“Why tell me this now? Tell me you love me but showed otherwise. You say I taught you how to love, and hope one day I'll come back? Where was this when I needed to hear when I begged you, Jude? I probably looked stupid confessing my feelings while all this time you hid yours away. You weren't ready, I get that, but it's too late. I learned and I lost, and I can't go down that road with you again,” you croaked, sniffling and whipping the tears away. 

“If you think I have replaced you, I haven't. As much as he makes me happy, you ruined that for me. I constantly picture you instead of him. I feel like a coward for leading on a good man, knowing that what I feel won't ever be enough or fair to him. I've tried Jude, i've tried to forget you without holding a grudge, but it's so hard when I love you this deeply,” you let out crying, yours and Jude’s heartbreaking every second that passed by. 

Jude couldn't stand it, the silence was killing him, suddenly spoke out and poured his heart out to you, your gut wrenching hearing him at the way he felt over the months that passed by. Pain clawed your hearts, chests heaving as you could feel the soulmate connection even from afar. His voice brings you a sense of calmness and relief. He felt the familiar feeling of home when he heard you laugh, slowly coming out of your protective shelf. 

“Without you, my life leads nowhere. But I took you for granted, and now I'm hanging from a rope. I know that you know I'll do whatever for your love, so tell me what I can do to call you mine again, baby?” Jude’s voice cracked, the pleading in his voice showing raw emotion.

“Come to me. I need you to prove your love to me and that it isn't for games.”

[losersiren]

Yandere! Vault Dweller

N: I just finished the Fallout show, went on YouTube and fell down a rabbit hole of lore about the game. I decided Vault 11 shall be sacrificed (hehe). Everything I put in this fic is from the videos I've watched and the fan wiki, so it's like semi-accurate… Cw: talks about suicide, suicide (not the reader), violence, yandere tendencies, gore(?), death, manipulation, coercion, talks of death, should be gn! reader safe.... if not, put me in the chamber WC: 2.2k

Quiet. It was quiet. The silence is deafening, yet the ringing in your ear grows louder and louder, each second feeling as if eons had passed. The automated computer voice repeats in your head like a catchy song you’ll hear on those dusty records, the ones Mama used to play and dance to.

“Congratulations, citizens of Vault 11! You have made the decision not to sacrifice one of your own. You can walk with your head held high, knowing that your commitment to human life is a shining example to us all. And to make that feeling of pride even sweeter, I have some exciting news. Despite what you were led to believe, the population of Vault 11 is not going to be exterminated for its disobedience. Instead, the mechanism to open the main vault door has now been enabled, and you can come and go at your leisure. But not so fast! Be sure to check with your overseer to find out if it's safe to leave. Here at Vault-Tec, your safety is our number one priority.”

You were young when your parents escaped the bombs to the vault you're situated in right now; you grew up believing that damned computer about sacrifices and watched your fellow vault mates get killed one by one. You waited for the time it would be you in that same chamber. Now, with this information surfaced…they died for what? An experiment? What would have happened if you had been voted overseer…

The lump in your throat grows heavier, and the arguments and yelling in the background become more and more apparent that you can't ignore them anymore. Your eyes drift to the man standing tall and proud beside you, Charli, his hair still somehow slick back; he still looks perfect even after the maddening chaos of events that transpired these past few days. His blue jumpsuit was as crisp as an ironed suit that the actors would wear from the moving pictures on television before the vault. His expression is as vacant as his blue eyes, his soft lips decorated with a barely visible smile. As he watches the other three vault survivors argue, Your brows furrow. 

Why isn’t he affected by the news like everyone else? This information is soul-crushing and life-changing!

Then again, you reason with yourself that maybe this is his way of coping; who are you to judge and microanalysis him like some psycho? Perhaps it’s the lack of sleep or the sense of safety ripped out of your hand like candy stolen from a baby. Heavens, you might nearly flip your lid entirely if something else happens. You sigh. To believe you almost were insinuating that Charli would even be a drop suspicious, and of what, exactly? He saved and shielded you from the massacre that only left the five of you remaining; he was your childhood best friend..how could you? You reprimand yourself.

His eyes finally meet yours, and the sympathy and worry you sought appeared when the blonde saw how distressed you were. “Are you alright?” his soft voice fills your head–drowning out the talks of whether the group should commit suicide in honour of your dead vault men or venture into the outside world to educate others on how your vault was misled. You were somewhat dissociated from the whole conversation. Reasonably so.

His hands, soft yet calloused, turn your head side to side to check for any visible injuries he might’ve missed, which he shouldn’t have—knitted eyebrows and razor-sharp eyes search frantically for anything. 

Charles or… As you’ll call him later in your relationship, Charlie, has always been like this. When you met him, he was a reserved kid, a trait that would carry on from his pubescent to adolescent years. 

When other kids grew out of their shyness and worrisome attitude and eventually adapted to the vault, he was pushed aside. Well, that wouldn’t be the only reason. His father was the first overseer of Vault 11, the same overseer who thought the best course of action was not to tell the vault residents about the sacrificial system they were now to live with. That same choice he made was the reason for his death, and he was the first to test the new system. He wasn’t a good man. He was greedy, a neglectful father and husband, and so on. A family now ruined by one man’s ill-considered decision; Charles's mom wasn’t much better, the textbook definition of a hypocrite. Bad-mouthing her dead husband, the same one she defended when said husband would push his son away.

Most would fear having no one at the end of the world, but it became Charles's life; while everyone adapted to vault life, Charles adapted to the misfortune of the consequences of his old man’s actions. You decided one day to talk to him while others stood clear. It was a simple conversation; others would just brush it off…which he did initially. But after that day, you would constantly seek him out, and with that, you wore a genuine smile and interest every time you talked to him. His walls crumbled into dust for you and only you. You were like a shooting star he wished for. His reputation grew because of you and, with that, his feelings for you sored. You became his way of life. In his teen years, he decided to become the best match for you– He would participate in every extracurricular activity the vault would provide to make him an unstoppable force of a man. The perfect golden boy was made..for you.

He had the “perfect body,” perfect sperm count, unmatched intelligence, and charisma—he perfected them (even if you were the only one he talked to for long periods)—strength, agility, endurance—all of it. He will be everything you need and more. With that, he made sure no one would vote you as overseer…

He was so soft on you that it would rival feathers. Do you need help lifting that? He's already there. Do you need help with your pre-war history? He’ll just sit you down and study with you for hours. Are you bleeding from an accidental cut? Don’t worry he just finished his first aid training. He already had a plan for you both for everything that would happen.

Everything

“I’m fine…” You grab both of his hands gently. “...Well, not fine, fine, but I'm not hurt.” You smile weakly up at him. “It’s okay. You and I will get through this,” He coos, pushing strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. His touch is warm and tender, yet the words you hear next aren’t.

“Fuck..I..I can’t do this I’m sorry.” A man, short in stature, starts backing away, gun in hand, clearly distressed. Your eyes move away from Charli’s to your fellow survivor; unknowingly to you, Charli rolls his eyes at the man's “dramatics.”  “We don’t deserve to leave...That thing called us a shiny example..f..f.fucked! Thats fucked! I..I can’t live with that!” Another man says, “Anyone would’ve done what we did.” A woman comments, “You ask me? That's exactly the problem. Now, let’s get on with this.”

“Wait,” you say, stunned, as if he had predicted this would happen. Charles moves his hands to cover your eyes. The short man is first, putting his gun on the roof of his mouth and pulling the trigger, not sparing any more time; the woman is next, the second gunshot. Then, with a sigh and short prayer, the last man repeats the action done by the others. Each lifeless body hits the floor one by one, and then there is silence.

What the hell.

You try to understand the situation, but your brain has yet to catch up…it’s all too much. Charli whispers calming phrases while he shields your eyes with one hand and rubs patterns along your back with the other. Tears start rolling down your face…and you sob. Hard. His hand moves to pet your hair, soothing you while you let it all out of your system.

He moves his body to shield you from the gruesome events that have just taken place; he moves both of his hands and cradles your face. You try looking behind him out of curiosity, but he stops you before you can.”Hey! Look at me with those gorgeous eyes,” He mummers, and of course, you comply. “There we go. You listen to me so well,” he whispers lovingly. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll both go back to my vault room. I have enough supplies for the both of us to survive outside for a while, okay?” He asks you, and you nod, agreeing to whatever he says. 

“I need to hear you say it..” 

“…yes, of course, whatever you think is best.” He smiles at you, thumb caressing your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?” He takes your hand and leads you through the halls. It's quiet… you don't like it. Your eyes are trained on his back, Charli…he’s your lifebuoy in the angry sea, the only thing keeping you afloat; if it wasn’t for him…you might’ve met your end with the others. As if sensing your inner turmoil, he squeezes your hand, comforting you…and you squeeze back. Your world just fell apart, yet…it doesn’t seem entirely gone with Charli by your side. 

It's only a short time till you reach his vault. You’ve been here so many times it's basically your room by now. The tall blonde turns to look at you. “I’m going to let you go, just for a second, okay..? I just need to get the supplies.” He holds your one hand with both of his– you reply with a soft okay, and with your permission, he starts to move. He moves towards his small desk to grab a small, flat-headed screwdriver, walks to a particular spot, and pops the floor title beneath him, revealing a hidden compartment. It's filled with two modular military backpacks, filled to the bream with necessities for outside the vault.

He was prepared for all of this…

Then he starts talking about what he has in mind for the two of you, settling on the surface of living together and everything. Charles gets lost when talking to you; he can speak his mind about almost anything, and rambling is second nature with you. The hermit turned a social butterfly in your presence.

“You know that computer may have been our downfall, but god did bless me with more information than I could handle…good thing, huh, glad I went through all that code…Vault-tec tried to make it secure, but I found a way...We could go somewhere called New Vegas…” He keeps talking. 

But you stand there, still, as a statue, looking down at him as he gathers everything…What did he just say? 

You think back to the start when killing between the blocs started..he was right there, ready to protect you, when you and the other surviving tested out if the chamber would kill all of you…he almost seemed to be too assured nothing bad would happen to any of you, almost like…no…no. You’re overthinking, right? But the more you listen…

“You knew…” you shakingly exclaim out loud, cutting him off. “Hmm?” He looks up at you as he puts the tile back…” You knew we didn’t need sacrifices…you knew it would play out like this…” you say louder and more confidently. Those once-homey blue eyes become cold and distant… analyzing you.  

You both stare at each other.

You turn and run.

 But your efforts are in vain; you don’t even leave the room before two muscular arms wrap around behind you, overtaking you, holding your arms down around your waist, dragging you back. You scream and kick with no success. You end up with his arms around you while he sits down, his back against the wall, and you in front of him with his head in your neck while you let it all out. “When?” you croak out, “When we were fifteen, I didn’t want you to become overseer…I didn’t want you to die..so I wondered if it was the computer that sent signals to kill whoever was sent in that chamber and wondered if I could stop it from killing you specifically; that's when I found out .” He answers swiftly and truthfully, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” You question, “I didn’t care, honestly, the only thing that matters is you…If everyone died in the process, it would be less work for me…I wanted it to be us from the beginning, anyway. I want you to need me as much as I need you…and now you finally do.”  

You feel weak and sick to your stomach… All your peers would’ve ended up dead either way. “I want to leave.” he hums, not mocking you but in acknowledgment. “And do what? You don’t know how to defend yourself; you have no supplies prepared, barely any survival instincts, and you don’t even know any information on the surface above. You can leave, but you’ll die…I can’t let that happen, sorry.” Charles buries himself more into you. 

“I hate you,” You whisper.

“That’s okay…all that matters is that you're here…with me and only me… I’ll keep you safe and sound.”

N: This was a long one, whew! I had to think about how I could make a Yandere fic with Fallout, and I had tons of concepts, but this one stood out the most. I hope my execution was good enough....Anyway, my next fic will most likely be a jealous fic about my Yandere lord, so stay tuned! Till then! see you soon my little guppies (´꒳`)♡ extra note: Throughout writing this, I thought "My Way of Life by Frank Sinatra" would fit Charli perfectly.

[amourdivine]

PAC ઉ YOUR CURRENT ENERGY!

Hello, lovelies, I know it has been some time, but I missed you. I hope everyone is doing ok these days. Let's look into your energy today, shall we?

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

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pick a card masterlist & information

the piles.

1 → 2 3 → 4

how to choose your pile.  take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

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disclaimer. this is a general reading! tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

PILE ONE

queen of cups ✧ death ✧ ace of swords ✧ the high priestess

Before I shuffled, I couldn’t help but feel lonely, like there’s this pang in my chest whenever I think of life and the current state of the world. It reminds me of the term “loneliness epidemic” and how so many of us are struggling to make friends or maintain pre-existing relationships. I think you are beginning to find emotional fulfillment in different things than you did before. Nothing may have worked out - at least, the things that used to work out aren’t working out anymore. There’s this voice inside of you begging for a new beginning, for clarity, and it’s slow but surely coming towards you. Where your energy is will wildly depend on how much you’ve listened to that inner voice already, but it’s a calling towards something new, regardless.

I think you’re scared because you haven’t done this before. You may be discovering things about yourself as well that are quite surprising, like new hobbies or gifts. It’s refreshing too, both painful and refreshing. Sort of like the concept of growing pains - growing up is not easy and there are no guidelines, no roadmaps. Often, we discover things through trial and error. 

You may have withdrawn your energy as well, especially from old social circles. I get the feeling you were unsatisfied. Things felt stuck. They may still feel stuck, boring and completely lost in the routine of it all. It’s okay. You’re growing. Bones can hurt when they heal and grow. The same goes for you. I see snakes here, shedding their old skin. In your case, I don’t think you have found a “new skin” already, but you’ve shed your old life either way. It’s okay to want more, pile one. It’s okay to change. We’re ever-evolving. What suited you then won’t suit you now, that’s how life goes, with the changing of the seasons. It’s beautiful to witness - and when you look back you’ll realize just how much we can shift, how many places we’ll go and how much more there is to life than our old selves.

It’s okay to let it go. You’ll be okay even if the waters are muddy for now.

This is a very spiritual pile! Make sure to cater to your emotional and spiritual needs, taking care of your physical body and being around soothing, comforting or quiet places while you tend to this new self.

channeled messages & songs: white snakes, ring, scarf, life path 8 (or 8 in general), silver jewelry, bodies of water, sleeping, bed-rotting, kundalini awakening, modern loneliness by lauv, scorpio, pisces and cancer, hermitting, social batteries, introvert, epiphany, books, the bible, prophetic dreams, chocolate, ego death. 

PILE TWO

six of cups ✧ the hanged man ✧ eight of cups ✧ seven of wands

You are returning to yourself, it feels like a sort of homecoming. Fighting for your peace while, at the same time, learning to accept what you can’t control. You have walked away from old beliefs, from restraints of the past and renewing your faith in yourself. Even the picture you’ve chosen is a close-up of someone’s outfit walking away. You’ve found dignity and you’re not willing to sacrifice it anymore. Maybe you’ve left a situationship or relationship that was draining you, molding you into someone you weren’t. Props to you for that. It’s not easy and I know it.

Your guides are proud - they’re very serious and regal. They think you deserve more than what you’ve had. Not in a self-serving way, don’t mistake it for self-indulgence, but in a human, dignified way. They see you as royalty, too. They don’t want you to settle for breadcrumbs in life anymore. No matter how difficult it’s been, they don’t want you to stop believing that things can get better.

For most of you, this is a time when you’re shifting into a more peaceful but assertive phase. You’re taking charge of your joy, your future and your responsibilities without clinging to self-blame or guilt. Maybe it took you a long time. I heard “recovery” in my mind and this has possibly something to do with a specific illness or disease you’ve battled for so long. There’s a huge feeling of relief, of taking a long breath after a tiring day. 

It’s okay, you’re home now, you’re safe now. You can relax. You’ve got this, pile two.

channeled messages & songs: therapy, journaling, barbie or baby doll, sage green, green tea, pastels, tiktok, doomscrolling, healing, “i’m not the girl i used to be”, rainbow by kacey musgraves, self-acceptance, shadow work, “i’m still standing”, camping, nature, libra and taurus.

PILE THREE

three of swords ✧ the hermit ✧ the star ✧ queen of pentacles

Your heart is broken. Someone or something has left you to lick your wounds and tend to the bruises they gave you. You’re in pain, so much pain that it may be unbearable to wake up everyday. You’re questioning your worth, your self-esteem has crumbled.. and you don’t want anyone to find you, to see you in such a vulnerable state. All you do now is hope for better days, pray a rainbow comes after the storm because the current is heavy and has taken you astray.

Unfortunately life can’t always be what we want or expect. Allow room for these heavy emotions - this too shall pass. It’s okay to be disappointed, to feel betrayed and hurt by what happened. If the ground was pulled beneath your feet, was it ever really that solid to begin with?

This is the aftermath of something painful. And that’s okay. You can’t force yourself to feel good. In the meantime, you can take it slow, nurture the hope for better days and hold onto it. I know we tend to view hope as mostly something negative and passive, but you can take baby steps towards emotional fulfillment. The Queen of Pentacles suggests you take it slow - there is no rush to healing, nothing to be accomplished, there is nothing for you to prove. You’re human, and therefore, worthy of compassion, patience and healing. Remember the Wheel of Fortune: what comes up must go down, what goes down must go up eventually. You’ll feel better, pile three. I promise.

channeled messages & songs: taking a walk, flower pot, cacti, heartbreak anthems, olivia rodrigo, punk rock, “i’m angry all the time”, hurts like hell by fleurie, capricorn, saturn, personal year 5, backstabbing, depression, navy blue by muna.

PILE FOUR

the hanged man ✧ the hierophant ✧ six of pentacles ✧ the star

You’re learning and teaching. Giving and receiving. Letting the scales balance themselves out, remembering that balance is not always fifty fifty. All the piles have had somewhat similar themes, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you have felt drawn to either pile one or two, but this one feels like a continuation of it, so it could be that you’re transitioning from one to another. Naturally, please take only what resonates for you!

You may have found a new job, a stable relationship, a good circle of friends. You know, despite the positive feeling of these cards, I can’t help but wonder if you’re waiting for it all to crumble again, feeling like the shadows of your past are going to haunt you forever. I keep wondering if you’re okay, I keep wanting to ask you. You’re scared, you’ve got your guard up. You can’t really trust it will last - and while it’s true that it all comes and goes, you can trust nothing is ever wasted. 

Let your guard down. Not everyone has your worst interests in their heart. Maybe self-isolation suited you before, didn’t it? You weren’t used to being loved, you still aren’t. But you still deserve it. Sometimes it’s easier to endure the hard things because they’re all we expect. It’s difficult to take in the good things, isn’t it? To feel worthy of them. To realize there is more to life than survival. You’re finally living now - and that’s a good thing. Uncertainty is scary, but in a way, so is the familiarity of hurt, of unrequited lovers and callous friendships. Are you ready to be loved, pile four? You can ask for the good times as much as you want, but when it is here, you have to remember to enjoy it, to not be on the lookout for the bad things so much.

We’re rarely in control. I know it’s difficult, but that’s often a good thing. Not being in control means you can worry less. You can fret less. You can take it day by day, knowing that the outside forces will do what they must and we’re all silly little souls on a giant floating rock.

PS: You’re doing well, I promise.

channeled messages & songs: self-sabotage, nightmares, attachment issues, bulletproof by la roux, bones, candles by daughter, earrings, 2024 planner, five year plan, entj, istj, quiet singing, “the pen is mightier than the sword”, studying, sweater weather, stress cleaning, autumn girl.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[briebysabs]

Lu Guang is a hypocrite and that’s okay (great even)

I must stand ten toes for this man because I’m noticing the slander that went on in September and I cannot allow it. I know I’m six months late but just bear with me. We are introduced to Lu Guang as a rational, stoic, sort of wise protagonist. The brains of the operation if you will (although Cheng is clever in his own right but that’s a whole other discussion). Qiao Ling and Captain Xiao describe him as more mature. Shiguang’s relationship is strong but it’s structured, especially for their work, to where Cheng has to depend on Lu Guang. Should only do as he says and not do anything impulsive.

And it gets to a point where Cheng doesn’t know what to do without him and when LG isn’t there he relies on his past words to guide him. The thing is, we’ve seen that CXS can come up with great plans and make good decisions without Lu Guang’s voice in his head. Like how he caught Min Liu or planning how save Lu Guang from Li Tianchen. But the story has built LG up so much to be a reliable character so it can’t be untrue. But then the s2 finale happens, Cheng gets shot and Lu Guang loses his mind.

And then the ending basically tells you that he’s been winging it and gambling this whole time. Experimenting with god knows how many timelines, simply using his knowledge from the previous one to see if he’ll get lucky this time. Lu Guang has been playing a crane game. So in a story that is all about mistakes, guilt and regrets. Of showing the imperfections of people. Of showing the struggles of moving forward, of being satisfied with the present. Of sacrificing your sanity, your voice, your desires, and happiness for the people you love. How is this bad writing?

Link click has been tricking the audience to believe Lu Guang is an infallible character.

But Link Click was never about perfect people.

What he’s trying to do is no different from Li Tianchen, one of our antagonists. And I love CXS to fucking pieces but this show raises the question of a life’s value. LG is trying to save Cheng and so refuses to change the past for anyone else. Bc it may alter things and doom CXS in the process and ruin all he’s worked towards. But then you ask yourself, is CXS’s life worth more than the twins' mother? Is it worth more than Chen’s mother? Is it worth more than Emma?

It doesn’t matter because it is to Lu Guang. It’s like the question if your sibling and a mailman are trapped in a burning building but you can only try to save one. Unless they’re the absolute scum of the earth, chances are and possibly even despite that, you’re going to pick your sibling. That don’t mean it’s objectively more valuable than the mailman or you didn’t have sympathy for that person, they have loved ones, hopes and joys too. “Lu Guang is a hypocrite, selfish, unreliable, and a liar” yes he is. Because there is something called ‘flawed characters’. It’s okay for your protagonist to not be the best person. It’s okay to write a protagonist whose trauma has defined some of their actions.

If you’ve been forced to have someone you love die in your arms over and over, why is it surprising that you would lie to them? How is it surprising that you’d try to keep secrets? That you’d set things up to be in a position to control the situation? That’ll force you to plan better so maybe, just maybe things will be different? You think Lu Guang lacks self awareness and doesn’t know what this makes him? Of all things you can call LG, he’s not delusional. He knows the weight of his actions.

Link Click has and always will be a story about people. Where our emotions and choices take us. Lu Guang isn’t a robot so why would he be an exception?

Plus everyone should’ve been knew Lu Guang was sus anyway. Idk how that’s mischaracterization, there’s proof of him lying and keeping secrets from CXS in s1. It doesn’t ruin anything it recontextualizes what we were shown back then.

[kelcemenow]

Call Her Daddy.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 829

Warnings Sexual references, fluff and strong language...obviously.

I hope I've done this one right! I've never heard of the podcast, nor have I listened to it but I did a some research and just went for it! "Hello first of all I’m a huge fan of your work, I have an idea in mind hope you like it. Y/n and travis have been dating for a bit just there close friends know about the relationship and Alex copper a close friend of the reader invites them on her podcast call her daddy where they talk about there relationship/sex life"

"Okay, next question. What is your favourite sexual position?"

You hummed in thought, "I love being on top." You smiled at Alex who nodded in agreement, "There's something about being on top that gives me a sense of power, isn't there? It's a bit dominating."

"Would you say that you like being in the more dominant role in the bedroom?" Alex questioned.

"Sometimes." You giggled, "But on the flipside, I really like being thrown around, you know? Like...lifted up, thrown onto the bed, pushed up against the wall, carried around...that's what I want."

Alex fanned her face with her hand, "Phew, you're speaking the truth here Y/N. So, I promised an exclusive scoop earlier to everybody and I think it's about time that we get to that. Y/N is not my only guest on this episode, we have someone joining us, don't we?"

You laughed, "Yeah, I've been seeing some rumours flying around regarding my dating life and I gotta be honest, a lot of people are getting it all wrong!"

"Gotta love those rumours!"

"So, when Alex asked me to come on Call Her Daddy, I thought it was the perfect time to set the record straight. Plus, I'm going on tour soon and he'll be at quite a few shows so everyone will figure it out eventually anyway."

"So, our guest is someone that you're dating?"

You smiled and adjusted your headphones, "Yeah, we've been dating for a while now and so far, it's only family and close friends that have known about it but we agreed that it's probably time to let everyone else know."

Alex leaned into her microphone, "Just for full transparency, I knew!"

"Yeah you were one of the first people that I told, I couldn't keep that secret from you!"

"Id' have gotten it out of you eventually, I'm good at that!" Alex cleared her throat, "Right, let's not keep everyone waiting for much longer. Daddy Gang, our extra special guest on today's episode is none other than...Travis Kelce!"

You both gave Travis a round of applause as he placed headphones over his ears and smiled into the microphone, "Alright now!"

You grinned and placed your hand on his leg, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Alex took a sip from her water, "Okay, now Travis, you're not new to the podcast scene, we all know that."

Travis snickered, "Nah, I feel at home like this! But I gotta say, New Heights is completely different. You know, me and Jason don't talk about what I think we're going to be talking about here!"

"Yeah, that would be weird!" You laughed.

"Right, let's get straight to it. What's the sexiest thing about Y/N?"

"Oh wow, no messing around here, baby!" He rubbed his beard, "The sexiest thing about my girl?"

"You can only pick one!" Alex lifted an eyebrow.

"That's not easy. Honestly, I think she's the sexiest woman in the world. She could be folding laundry and I'm still mesmerised by her! But the sexist thing about her is definitely how ambitious she is. She has worked her fucking ass off to get what she has got and what makes it even better, is that she did it all herself. I love watching her perform, because I can see what it means to her and how much she has sacrificed to be able to do it. It's amazing, man."

Your lips curled into a huge smile, a wave of happiness washing over you.

"Aww guys, you're going to make me cry! And that's not the vibe I was going for! We want the juicy details!"

Travis mumbled, "Oh...umm...her ass?"

You and Alex both laughed loudly.

"Is that's what you wanted?" Travis looked to Alex who was clutching at her stomach.

"I liked your first answer, baby." You placed your arm gently around his shoulders and traced circles on the back of his neck with your finger.

"I'm sure a lot of people will want to know how you two manage to date with your busy schedules."

You clasped your hands together, "It's difficult, it really is. But we make sure that we keep some time aside for each other. Even if it is just sitting down to have breakfast together or an hour long phone call."

"Technology helps. We like Facetime, we use that one a lot." Travis agreed.

Alex grinned a mischievous smile, "Do the Facetime calls ever get a bit heated...a bit explicit?"

You glanced at Travis with a knowing look, "If I said no-"

"She's be lying." He said loudly.

Your mouth flew open in shock and Alex clapped her hands together, "I knew it!"

"Oh, come on" We're all adults here, we know how those calls can end up sometimes. If Travis calls me shirtless, chances are I'm gonna get a bit...distracted. I Facetimed him from the shower last week." Your cheeks were beginning to deepen in colour, "My God, how do you get this information out of people?!"

______________________________________________________________

I hope that was okay! As always, your comments and messages are always appreciated! You're all too kind! I'll be working through some more requests this week (whenever I have some spare time) and if you want to be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

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[velvet-vox]

The russian worker drones family; murder drone's greatest small scale tragedy.

As long as I can recall there has never been in my mind a story quite as painful and heartbreaking and yet quite as engaging as the tragedy of Doll, Yeva, and her husband, who's lack of a clear name doesn't detract from the impact of this story or the death of the other two.

The last time such an emotional impact was left in my brain was with Noximilliem Coxen the Watchmaker from Wakfu, who I will assuredly make a comparison post with Doll, as they both hit extremely similar themes and ideas while still having such different execution and story beats that it almost makes you question why would you even compare them in the first place.

Tragedy is deceptively hard to write right and make meaningful, as just crippling your characters won't do, because at that point it just becomes drama porn and as boring as a low effort pre-schoolers program. Seemingly unfeasible in a show such as Murder Drones; an horror/comedy/romance where an abused child repaired and made friends with a robot only for said robot to cause the destruction of her planet and... something else.

Buckle up cause these robots emotions might not even be considered real inside the fictional setting but our pain allows what would otherwise be a pretty standard horror scenario to transcend into the bane of my existence as we take a look at the small, inconsequential tale of the russian worker drones family.

Yeva

Starting off with Yeva as the oldest member of our family in terms of chronological relevance, we get our first peek into the way this story plays out due to Yeva being seemingly mute by choice or programming, which retroactively sets up the storytelling method used; Yeva doesn't speak a single word in this scene or the one that precedes it, but we still get a clear rendition of her character by her standoffish behaviour juxtaposed with her caring and nurturing nature, it's debatable whether or not her and Nori are sisters, but you wouldn't be blamed for thinking that judging by the way Yeva tends to Nori after the banishment of the solver, being chained up and experimented upon didn't stop her from staying positive in the midst of adversity and could theoretically be the reason why she was the only correctly patched drone in the facility.

During the V attack she sacrificed her own life in order to protect Doll. An act that, in the long run, ended up being whortless, but that cemented Yeva has an unyielding positive influence in a world stormed by negativity and death.

The father

We know jack s##t about this man but that won't stop us from analysing him. The most interesting things about him are his relationship with Yeva and the fact that the picture of V seen in episode 2 was made by him. He's, admittedly, a white canvas for head cannons, but thematically he keeps a recurring motif that this post will touch upon in his final entry:

Doll

And now, for the crown jewel of this family. The protagonist's dark reflection. Not many people can claim to have been messed up as hard as Doll was. Sure, death is still death, but with it comes a certain sense of finality and rest. Instead, by contrast Doll's death is so brutal and devastating because although it's something that she has been calling upon herself since she started to consume other drones for her goals, it's just so heartbreaking because she managed to achieve absolutely nothing despite being one step forward everyone else in the story; she never got better, never reademned herself, made their parents sacrifice worthless, died almost entirely off camera completely alone and scared, and as her last compensation act she managed to give Uzi a barely useful warning before having her probably still alive consciousness eaten by an eldritch atrocity. At the end of the day, she was deemed worthless by the main antagonist and quickly brushed aside.

And we go back to a certain reoccurring theme regarding this family: Yeva never speaks. Her husband is never given a name. Doll is literally a toy name. Their story plays out in the shadow of the main plot. Every single aspect regarding them paints their existence as worthless and inconsequential (classic eldritch horror), yet are given enough spotlight to leave an impact on us, to have their presence felt, and to give us the impression that, despite their bad luck, if they only took certain decisions in certain key moments, maybe they would have survived and received a much better ending than the one they got.

Want more?

[mrspasser]

I saw you on the train - Sterek Fanfic

Sterek fanfiction, shamelessly based on this Tumblr post by @tsaiko. (OP, please let me know if I overstepped!) This is also on A03.

I saw you on the train

Derek gets on the subway after work, mentally bracing himself for having to deal with people because he didn’t charge his phone last night. Or he did, but his pup chewed through his charger cable and he frankly didn’t notice the nearly empty battery until he was already at the office. Any other day he loves his old brick of a phone, but today it was a bit of a bother that nobody had a charger that he could borrow. Ergo, he has no music to drone out the conversations of the other passengers.

He makes his way a little down the train car and sits down in an open seat. Across the aisle and one seat down are two men, mid to late twenties. They’re having one of those whisper-shout conversations with each other, where the words at the end of each sentence get louder with their anger, before they remind themselves that they are in public and go back to furious whispering. Derek can tell they are trying to be quiet, but emotions are high. Things are tense between them, it’s obvious within a few minutes of involuntary eavesdropping.

He knows he should try to ignore them, but it’s pretty hard to do. They’re in Derek’s direct line of sight and one of them has the most mesmerising whiskey coloured eyes he has ever seen. Right now, the lines around the young man’s eyes are hard and stressed, yet Derek can imagine the twinkle that would be there when he’s in better spirits. It fits the slight uptick of his nose. Somehow he just knows the guy can be a nuisance in all the best ways. He has an expressive face, which makes him far more interesting to Derek than his more generically handsome partner, who has neatly styled brown hair and blue eyes.

It’s an easy guess that the two of them are in a relationship, even though the expected easy chemistry is missing. But there aren’t many people that would be fighting in public, except when they’re in a close, intimate relationship. It’s a bit odd that they chose to have a discussion about the future of their relationship on the subway during rush hour, but whatever, they probably had a head of steam up on this topic. 

It's a relationship drama that doesn’t involve Derek, yet he’s kind of forced to listen to it as one of the few people without headphones in the direct vicinity. There’s an older woman that glances curiously in the direction of the two men every now and then, but she’s reading a travel guide in a language that Derek can’t place, so chances are her English isn’t good enough to know what the two are talking about. 

The gist of their discussion is that the one with the blue eyes wants to move forward with their relationship, maybe move in together, while Whiskey Eyes wants to slow down. Suddenly, Mr. Generic breaks in with a story about how his mom hates the city, but she moved to New York to stay with his dad and has lived there for twenty years now. And then he actually says the words: “Because relationships are about sacrifices.”

Whiskey Eyes looks like he wants to argue that point - which Derek can understand - yet he decides to follow his boyfriend’s reasoning. “And what have you sacrificed for our relationship?”

The barely hidden sarcasm in the question is apparently lost on Mr. Generic, because he has the audacity to come up with something or other he missed out on because he went with his boyfriend to a wedding. “We flew all the way back to California for your step brother’s wedding. I even had to sleep on the floor of your childhood bedroom!”

Like Derek, Whiskey Eyes is totally unimpressed with that answer and even rolls his eyes. Of course, his boyfriend doesn’t like that and their whispered argument continues. Derek can’t exactly hear what they’re saying, though it’s apparent that things aren’t getting better. Then, in a voice clear as day, Whiskey Eyes asks: “Name one thing I’m interested in.”

Mr. Generic freezes. He does a pretty decent impression of a store mannequin, with the vacant expression and the empty eyes. Derek can almost hear the dial tone coming from his brain. It’s clear that he can’t come up with a single thing that his boyfriend likes. On top of that, he looks confused as to why he’s even asked that question.

Things are quiet after that. The boyfriend tries to talk to Whiskey Eyes a couple of times, but he ignores him and just stares straight ahead. There’s a grim expression on his face, his jaws clenched. Still, the boyfriend doesn’t seem to understand the trouble he got himself in. 

The train pulls up at the station, Derek’s stop, and Whiskey Eyes gets up. “Baby?” Mr. Generic frowns at his partner. “This isn’t our stop.”

Whiskey Eyes gives him a cold glance. “It’s my stop now.” The doors open and he walks out. Just fucking walks off and leaves him on the train. 

Derek almost forgets to get off himself, he gets out just before the doors close. The boyfriend comes to his senses too and he jostles roughly past Derek in his hurry to go after his partner. Or ex-partner, probably. Because Derek sincerely doubts he can recover from that. He almost feels bad for the idiot. Or not, since the contents of Derek’s messenger bag go sprawling across the platform because of his rude shoulder check. 

The platform of the small station empties out quickly, leaving Derek to pick up the notes that spilled from their folder. When he looks up, still on one knee and with his papers in hand, he sees the couple from the train. They’re standing halfway between Derek and the exit and he’s just in time to see Whiskey Eyes pull his arm loose from Mr. Generic’s grip. Their voices echo in the empty station.

“We are through, Matt. I should’ve realised before that it wouldn’t work out, this thing between us.” Whiskey Eyes gestures angrily between them. “If there ever was a thing, because I’m starting to think I was the only one who was really invested.” 

Mr. Generic - Matt - scoffs. “You’re overreacting. And for what? Just because I couldn’t remember the name of your favourite movie from the top of my head? It’s Star Track, or something.”

“Star Trek,” Whiskey Eyes corrects, emphasising the last word. “And my favourite is Star Wars, not Star Trek.” He looks like he’s completely done with his ex-boyfriend’s bullshit. “Good bye, Matt. I’ll ask Lydia to pick up my stuff from your place later. Don’t follow me please.” He turns on his heel and walks to the stairs. 

“Baby…” The now definitely ex-boyfriend tries to keep up with him, but he’s quickly shot down.

“Don’t follow me.” The words are cold and clipped, making the ex-boyfriend stop in his tracks and just watch Whiskey Eyes disappear up the stairs.

Derek briefly makes eye contact with the asshole ex-boyfriend as he too makes his way to the exit. The man ignores him, mumbling something about ‘stupid nerd shit’ as he fumbles his phone from his pocket and simultaneously checks the board for the next train.

Yeah, Derek doesn’t feel sorry for him.

He does feel sorry for the whiskey eyed young man he finds standing forlornly just outside the exit of the train station. The guy just looks so lost that Derek can’t help but go up to him. “Are you okay?” he asks, startling the other.

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” Whiskey Eyes hurries to say. Then he looks around him and huffs a small, sad laugh. “Actually, I’m not. I don’t have a clue where I am and I just realised that I left my keys at home and my roommate won’t be home until late tonight.” 

“Shitty day, huh?” Derek remarks, showing him a sympathetic smile. 

“You can say that again,” is the blunt answer. It sounds almost rude, though it’s followed by a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I mean, I didn’t want to…” Derek isn’t really sure what he’s apologising for and neither seems he. “Sorry. Again. You caught me at a bad time. I just broke up with my… Well, my ex-boyfriend now.”

“I know,” Derek answers and he winces, because it’s clear he was listening in to things that were none of his business. “I mean,” he tries to course correct, “I couldn’t help but overhear. I was on the train too.” 

“You were?” Whiskey Eyes blushes a delicious shade of red. “Fuck. That’s embarrassing.” 

“Nah.” Derek shrugs. “If anything, he’s the one who should be ashamed. Like, who doesn’t know Star Trek apart from Star Wars?”

“I know, right?” He’s still blushing, but it goes well with his smile. 

Derek usually isn’t this forward with strangers, but right now he feels like taking a chance. He could be mistaken, but he doesn’t think he is, not with the shy way Whiskey Eyes is rubbing the back of his neck. So he asks: “Would you like to get something to eat? I’m on my way home and I was planning to get some take out, but if you want, we can go grab a bite together?” 

“Uh, sure!” Whiskey Eyes is only a bit taken aback by his question and seems eager to distract himself from the situation from earlier. “Yeah, why not? I have to wait until my roommate gets home anyway.” Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Stiles, by the way.” 

“Derek.” He takes his hand and is pleased to find it warm and firm. “How do you feel about Thai food?” 

They settle down in the window seat of the small Thai place a block or so from Derek’s home. Stiles declares it the best Tom Kha Kai he has ever had and they discover that they’re born in the same county in California. Derek’s family moved out when he was about twelve years old, yet Stiles’ father still lives there. And so does his recently married step brother.

Conversation flows easily and Derek is happy to discover that Stiles indeed has a very appealing sparkle in his eyes when he’s amused. 

Four months later, they kiss for the first time. Another four months later he finds himself lying on a thin camping mattress on the floor of Stiles’ childhood bedroom. There’s a large Star Wars poster above the bed, with the letters of the opening crawl. Glow in the dark stars that have long lost their shine dot the ceiling. 

A little above him, Stiles rolls so he can look down over the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry my bed is so tiny,” he whispers. “Are you sure you’re okay down there? We can switch!”

Derek catches the hand Stiles extends to him and presses his lips to the knuckles. “I’m fine, sweetheart. It’s just for a couple of nights anyway.”

Stiles smiles fondly at him. “Okay, if you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure,” Derek nods. He presses another kiss to the back of Stiles’ hand. “Now go to sleep, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Stiles yawns and nods. As only son and best man he’s invested in making his father’s wedding day a success. “You really don’t think he’d let me walk him down the aisle?” 

Derek chuckles quietly. They’ve been over this before. “Just leave that part to Scott and his mom. Don’t steal their thunder.” 

“Right.” Stiles caresses the side of Derek’s face one last time and then tucks his arm back underneath his blanket. “Good night, Der. Love you.” 

“I love you too. Good night.”

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: Dino x fem!reader

Requested: no

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning(s): cheating, angst, sadness, mentions of pregnancy (do inform me if there's more)

Summary: You were the light guiding Chan for the most of his life. now that you are not there anymore, he cant help but feel your absence as he reminisces his past and all those times you were there to ground him no matter what.

Word count: 6k

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

special thanks to @spamgyu for helping me out 😭

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask. Moreover, if you loved it, don't forget to reblog and help me reach a wider audience.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

Chan's life was determined before he had a chance to consider it. His family wasn't well-off. They struggled from early on to get food on their plates. He knew from when he was a child that he had to support his siblings because his parents refused to do so.

So that’s exactly what he did. He got into SNU with a full scholarship, secured a good job, and built a stable life with six figures coming in annually to his bank account, providing enough money to support his siblings’ dreams.

But what did it all get him?

Nothing!

He sacrificed his teens and his twenties because his father felt the need to be a raging alcoholic, and now he stands in the middle of Gangnam in his beautiful flat with its polished floors. But he lacks the most important thing in life: happiness.

To be truthful, he lacks a lot of things, but happiness takes the cake. If someone asks him, he lacks friends too. But our dearest Boo Seungkwan would like to disagree about that. In Chan’s defense, friends are absolutely not equal to friend (just a difference of ‘s’, as our dear ‘Kwanie’ said. Plus, his multiple personalities make up for the said lack of ’s’, which further raises the question as to why the man does not go for a checkup, as it seems he has self-diagnosed DID. We shall never know).

Chan is happy about his brothers doing what they like, though. It’s not that hard to not be happy when he literally raised them. Sacrifices need to be made, he has realized; some just make more than others, and there is nothing one can do about that. He accepts that he is indeed grateful for the friend he has made, the one who has stayed with him and accepted him as he is.

Now, it may sound sappy, and Chan swears he will never tell this to Seungkwan, but he has indeed helped him through the thick and thin of life. All those late-night drinking sessions and ugly crying have brought him to this stage in life where he thinks of the boy as more of a family than anyone else. He helped him when Chan’s life was falling apart, and he also was there to scold him back to the right track when no one believed in him, not even himself.

Although he lacks happiness, he is fine with that (he at least has Boo Seungkwan). He can live with being sad; he already has!

This is where you came in, the reason for Chan’s genuine smiles, from back in college to five years ago. It was a pretty serious relationship that you both had. Chan loved you. He had plans of making you his wife. For God’s sake, he was in a relationship with you for almost ten years! But somewhere along the way, he messed up. He became the exact thing he had hated all his life.

He became a person like his father.

You, being the nice kind, tried your best to stop him from spiraling down the rabbit hole of bad habits. But alas, it takes two to tango, and if he didn’t want to be better, no one, not even God himself, could do it for him.

It took losing you to realize how messed up his life had become.

--

“Chan, I’m heading out. Dinner’s in the fridge—please actually eat it this time. We don’t need two meal skippers in this household,” you quipped, watching as Chan chuckled and gave you a quick giggle inducing peck before returned his attention to the document he’d been typing for the past hour.

“Sure thing, Your Majesty. Your command shall be dutifully followed!” he exclaimed with a mock salute, drawing out another laugh from you. With a playful ruffle of his hair and another peck on his cheek, you left the apartment to begin your night shift at the hospital.

Chan, unlike you, has just started his new job after completing his MBA. It’s been tough, but he’s persevered, and soon enough, you both will be able to enjoy the luxuries he could only dream of growing up.

Your fifth anniversary is approaching faster than ever, and now Chan finally has the means to fulfill your dream of a trip to Europe. The pressure of this new job is more than the last one, but getting those tickets would be a walk in the park now.

Quickly finishing his document and mailing it to the head of the department, he immediately goes to check those flight ticket prices and hotel prices. He releases a happy sigh the minute he realizes that it’s exactly what he had expected the prices to be. So, without wasting a single moment, he buys those tickets. He knew this gift would make you happier than ever.

The next month, you had been notified about the expensive purchase only because you had to get a leave from your job, and you obviously can’t disappear for two weeks unannounced. He, in reality, had no plans to inform you about anything, but he couldn’t interfere with your job either.

But at the end it was worth it, the look on your face the minute you were informed about the trip. Oh, if only Chan could frame it and keep it away from the world, only if he could keep you near him and never let you go. But he didn’t think of that then. No, he was happy he had told you earlier.

The happiness radiating off you as you kept going on and on about the clothes you needed to buy, all the foods you were going to try once there. It was what helped him keep going throughout the day, even though the work became tiring with every passing minute.

If only he could have stopped time and lived in that moment forever.

—

One thing he never realized is how demanding his job would be once he got into a higher position. The calls kept him up at night; they came at the most ungodly of times, and Chan was expected to pick them up, because he always did.

You never complained; it was fine by you. If anyone understood him, it was you. Both of you had highly demanding jobs, and nothing could beat the expectations your colleagues had on you both.

But what he had not counted on was those calls interrupting your trip. During the entirety of your anniversary, he was glued to that phone of his, never once able to leave it. It was one problem at the office or the other.

Again, you kept your mouth shut, enjoying your own company as your boyfriend busied himself with work in the hotel room.

That was the last trip you both had gone on. You figured that it was too much to ask from someone who had so much work to do. But still, you understood his hunger to do better in life. You understood that someone had to compromise in the relationship and wholeheartedly accepted that it had to be you.

Coming to think of it, it was not supposed to be like this. Never! Both of you were supposed to communicate and figure out what your relationship was supposed to mean. But somewhere along the line, it just became regular sex and nothing else. When you talked about this with your friends, all of them had the same reaction.

‘Leave him!’ they had told you, ‘he wouldn’t change, he prefers his job more than you.’

It was a regular thing now. But you were scared. All the years you had invested in the relationship, you never wanted it to become what it had. You had held out hope that one day Chan would notice you. He would realize he had a girlfriend who also needs his attention as much as his job.

It didn’t take too long for those dreams to come true, though.

—

One night, you sat down with the man, asking him about the changes in his life. You begged him to look your way beyond the times he made love to you. It was an intense conversation, filled with words that neither of you actually meant, but hurt you both equally.

That night brought you both another few years, or that’s what you think. It became better, both your lives and the relationship. You both would talk more, spend time with each other, laugh with each other, and go about your days with lovesick smiles on your faces. Although none of your jobs became less hectic, it still was as painstaking as ever, but the scenery in your shared home was peaceful. It was both of your comfort zones.

What neither of you realized, this peace that you both had brought back into your lives, was fickle. In order to keep it like that, both of you had to put in some effort.

—

It slowly became visible to both of you how much more effort this relation of yours needed. Both of you saw the way your paradise was crumbling down bit by bit. Nights became lonely for you. Chan, being the perfectionist he is, would be stuck up in his office until the rays of sun hit the glass windows, reminding him of the fact that he indeed had stayed the night in his office. The hectic job took everything away from him. It stripped him of his identity, and slowly it was also stripping his happiness and sanity away. It was like the darker times had hit both of you again.

It was then that he suddenly passed out on the streets due to extreme fatigue and was brought immediately into the nearest hospital, which was the one you worked at. Lo and behold, you were the nurse on emergency room duty that day. This was the first time you saw the love of your life in that state; you saw what this new job had done to him. How it had taken this happy and healthy person you knew and turned him into this sick, unhappy, and overworked person. Your helplessness mocked you in your face. At night, you stayed by his side after the doctors had given their verdict about him being too overworked. You took care of him like never before, making sure to make him take an ample amount of rest.

Sadly, the industry is ruthless. As soon as the employers became aware that their once highly valuable employee’s usefulness had diminished, they ultimately opted to terminate him. Although Chan claims there were some more internal politics involved in this sacking, there was no way he could have evaded it.

Both of you soon realized it was the best thing that could have happened to him. While being the worst experience he could ever go through in his corporate career.

You stayed by his side through every hurdle though. You never once let him feel the need to be more than what he already was. But life was giving both of you a hard time.

It took Chan another month to get a new job. But only this time, it was a better, more important position in a better company. This is when life took off for both of you again. With Chan back on track, equipped with the newfound knowledge of not working more than necessary, he was on a roll. Almost unstoppable.

This change also affected your relationship, but positively this time. Chan and you would go on constant dates and enjoy each other’s company way more than ever.

—

It was nearing your seventh anniversary. Both of you had talked about getting married and starting a family enough times for him to know this was the perfect time for him to propose.

So, on the day of your seventh anniversary, he had planned to take you to this fancy Italian place. He claimed that you deserved only the best. No one could ever argue with him about that. You, along with Seungkwan, had been by his side for so long that he had forgotten the time when he didn’t have you both. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would change that fact. With that it brought him to the most important question of that year.

“But what ring do I buy her?” the stressed boy asked his best friend.

“Wow, I wasn’t informed about the fact that y/n suddenly had become my girlfriend!” Seungkwan exclaimed sassily.

“Dude, you can calm down. She is still my girl, ain’t no way you are getting her. Find a girl of your own,” the shorter boy retorted back.

Why am I being asked about her preference for a ring then, huh?”

“Because she said, and I quote, ‘if you buy me an expensive engagement ring that I can’t even wear out because it looks too expensive, I will castrate you’,” Chan said seriously, bringing out a seal-like laugh from the back of Seungkwan’s throat.

“Do something meaningful for her then, you dumb fuck,” making Chan almost cringe at the scolding. Without letting the boy talk, his best friend continued, “Put in some effort and do something that shows you care, without having to spend a copious amount of money. I have no idea what you should do, but bro, if it were up to me, a girl would for sure get a ring no matter what!”

Now, this made him think. It made him think hard. But even after all that thinking, he couldn’t come up with a good idea for an alternative for an engagement ring.

It was not until the next Saturday when he was sitting on the couch waiting for you to choose a movie for the weekly movie night, did he stumble upon the perfect idea for a ring? Like any usual person, the man was scrolling through TikTok when he found out that one could make rings out of clay.

Perfect!

If you didn’t want a diamond ring, you shall get a clay ring. For you might catch the sun lacking one day, but not Chan, never Chan!

—

This kick-started the learner phase of Chan’s life once again. He would visit the pottery classes every week because he needed to excel at the art to mold the perfect ring. One suitable for daily wear and also because this hobby brought him more peace than ever.

He made some friends here; they were fun to hang out with. You had met all these new people flooding into his life. He would parade about the with his hand on you showing you off proudly.

“Who wouldn’t?” he would ask whenever someone pointed it out. This question had the power to make him start ranting about you at any given point. So much so that after a point, people stopped asking him about you, no matter the context.

Because, oh boy, was he in love.

--

It took him one year and some friendships to finally complete learning everything there was to learn about pottery. In the course of that time, he had littered your shared house with his creations.

Oh, you wanted to buy a new bowl because you saw it on Instagram? No fear, Chan shall make it this instant. Oops, your favorite coffee mug broke? Chan has come to your rescue with a better, scientifically cute, usable, and overall better mug for you.

The creative spark of the boy never dimmed down, nor did his extroverted nature. Every other day, he would be out with his new friends, so much so that even Boo Seungkwan noticed. You both had chats with each other about the changes in Chan’s life over a cup of tea whenever Seungkwan would come over.

To say that you both were happy about him enjoying life would be an understatement. You had seen the pain the man had gone through in his life. It only made sense for him to have the best of the best experiences when he had the opportunities.

But again, as people say, one should do everything in moderation. It seems that Chan could do nothing in moderation. He would work himself half to death. In this case too, he started drinking and partying himself half to death. The outings that were done to unwind after a long hard day became parties that were making the day even longer.

The friends that helped him overcome the pressuring environment of his office became the ones who would pressure him to go way out of his comfort zone, all for the wrong reasons. People say twenties are times when people experiment with their life and gain new experiences.

The same was applicable for Chan too, the only difference being he was learning different ways of spiraling down holes that are hard to climb up from. The hilarious part being, these were the holes that he had carefully dug out himself.

It’s not like you never stopped him, because you did. The minute you realized these new friends were pushing Chan’s limits in the wrong way, you didn’t waste a second to tell him.

“I think you should calm down with this partying and stuff. It’s unbelievably bad for your health,” you had told him one night when he had come home drunk out of his wits.

“I know how to have fun, not my fault you don’t!”

The boy had shouted at you before collapsing on the couch. Realizing it was a waste of time to even try and talk to him in this state, you tried again the next day when he was far more sober.

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” you ask Chan, to which he shakes his still-hungover head and winces. Sighing, you continue, “Chan, you can’t let them get to you like this. Moderation is the key here. Please don’t overdo anything, I beg you!” You hugged him, trying to coax him to understand where you were coming from. He obviously hugged you back and promised you to keep your advice in mind the next time they asked him out.

He didn’t. He swears he tried to. But the peer pressure got to him. Before he could even back off, they had already hauled his ass to the bar. He never wanted to disappoint you. So he chose to accept the most coherent plan his drunk mind could formulate: the plan to lie to you.

—

Your seventh anniversary had come and gone a year ago. The only gifts he could provide you that day were a fancy dinner and a solid promise that he would indeed get you the greatest ring you will have ever seen in your whole life. Now the time had come. The time to prove his skills. Those skills he spent an entire year honing.

During this cute date at home, he produced a small wooden box from his pocket. After you had enjoyed the homemade meal he had whipped up for you and you both were cuddling on the balcony, he proposed to you with stars in his eyes and hope in his heart.

He shocked you with the ring. Like your relationship, it was delicate, yet made with lots of love and care. You obviously said yes without hesitation. After all, you loved this man, and he loved you too. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever go wrong if he was with you.

--

It seems that no matter how hard you try, life always seems to have other plans for you.

The month right after you accepted his proposal, you received an invitation for a two-year-long workshop in Germany. Such opportunities don’t come every day, so you were elated.

Without wasting any time, you called Chan, informing him about the opportunity you had received. But like every coin, this great opportunity had its drawbacks too.

With the prospect of studying and learning under some of the greatest doctors and nurses came the hardship of leaving your fiancé behind. Chan didn’t like this one bit. He could barely stand to be away from you for a second, let alone two years.

But seeing the excitement on your face and hearing the joy in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to stay back. He knew you had sacrificed a lot for him, compromised at times when you could have been happy if he hadn’t made decisions that ruined his life.

--

So he put on a happy smile and told you that if you didn’t take this opportunity, he would pack your bags himself and kick you out of the house. This assurance gave you the confidence you needed. Without wasting any time, you sent an email accepting the proposition to join the workshop.

The next five months passed in a whim. During this time, he had asked you to marry him before you went away, but with a peaceful and determined smile, you had told him, “I will marry you once I come back, like that, we won’t have to spend too much time as newlyweds. Plus, I will be smarter than you too.”

“You are always smarter than me. I can never surpass you,” was the answer you had received, along with a sweet kiss, making your heart swell like a balloon.

Life was starting to feel better again.

Chan had finally made his boundaries very clear. The boy felt extremely guilty for lying to you, though he never confessed to you about doing so. He made sure his actions proved his redemption. He ensured to let these new friends of his know that going out too much with them was affecting him in ways that he didn’t appreciate. Although they did sometimes win against him and force him to go out, it was not as bad as it was before.

—

Soon the day came when you had to fly away to Germany. To say that Chan was sad would be an understatement. He was devastated when he saw you off at the airport with Seungkwan. He had cried the whole way home, making Seungkwan scold him as if he were a baby.

“Now if you keep behaving like this, do you think she would be happy?” the older boy questioned him.

“No, but I miss her already,” Chan replied in a whisper while wiping his tears harshly.

“Be nice, be happy for her. You can talk to her all the time. It’s not the Stone Age,” Seungkwan said with an exasperated sigh, making the younger one stop his sad boy antics at once.

But it was not like Chan was okay. He started working overtime at the office, desperately waiting for you to call him when you got free. And call you did, religiously at six o’clock in the evening.

You both made the decision to talk at that time, regardless of any circumstances. This went on for six months. He tried his best to follow the routine of overworking himself before you would call and save him from killing himself with work.

But with all these works, his willpower also started to crumble down. The old ways came back to him. Before he realized it, he became a party animal. He made new friends at these clubs and bars he started frequenting. He thought you wouldn’t pick up. But you did. You saw how your boyfriend was slowly changing. It was not that obvious at first, but slowly you realized he was getting drowned with work.

Being the lovely girlfriend you were, you asked Seungkwan to take care of him. The boy tried his best to do so. But alas, he was not that successful.

It seemed to both of you that Chan had spiraled back into his overworking session. What you both were unaware of was that it was more than that.

Chan was not just overworking; he was over-drinking and over partying too.

—

One faithful night; he met Eva, his pottery class instructor. She was pretty. They talked the whole night, catching up like old buddies and having fun.

She brought a change to his life again. She started being there for him during times when he would lose himself. She was a great friend, so great that in no time you had the chance to meet her.

You had come back for a week’s vacation. Seungkwan thought it was important for all the friends to meet up because it had been a long time since he had seen you. This meeting was supposed to consist of only you, Chan, and Seungkwan. But Chan asked to bring in another friend he would like you to meet. It was Eva.

You liked her; she was nice. You wanted to be friends with her. Her sweet personality was something no one could resist, a great example of a sweetheart through and through.

For once, you were actually proud of your boyfriend’s choices in life. Your visit was over even before it had started. Suddenly, the week was over, and you were packing your bags to return to Germany.

This time, Chan was not as scared of things going downhill anymore. He knew that within a few more months, you would come back, and he could happily start the wedding preparations. He also knew he had a solid group of friends to have his back. Most importantly, he had learned the art of living without you. Not that it was happy, but now he could enjoy spending time by himself.

—

Time flew faster than ever. In no time, it was Chan’s birthday. Your program would finish that same month, so sadly you couldn’t visit him. All you could do was video call him that morning and congratulate him for hitting thirty before you, to which he grumpily replied, “Your birthday is in six months; I’m gonna make it hell for you.”

“Whatever, old man, get dressed. Don’t you have a job to go to?” You laughed at his grumpy face while teasing him even more.

“I miss you,” Chan suddenly called out, pouting.

“You will meet me next month, Channie. Don’t be this sad now.” Although that did make him happy, the thought of spending yet another birthday without you was saddening. But it’s not like it was going to last. You would be back in no time.

That thought put a smile on his face. Soon enough, he was skipping around the house cooking breakfast and answering numerous calls from his friends and family for being a thirty-year-old now.

Seungkwan and Eva had also planned a not-so-surprise party for him. It consisted of meeting in front of his office and dragging his ass to the bar to drink and have fun. Although the day was spent slaving away in front of the computer, that night he had a lot of fun. He talked to Seungkwan and Eva for hours, and the three of them were pretty intoxicated when they left.

The only thing he remembered from that night was the fact that Eva, being the one out of the three with the most alcohol tolerance, was the one who had made sure that all of them returned home safely.

There was just one slight problem. Eva started to avoid him. Now, in any other situation, he would not have noticed it, but the text the next morning asking him if he remembered anything from the night before had him confused. When he asked her what it was all about, she refused to answer him, opting to ignore him instead.

He had no recollection of the night before, and Seungkwan didn’t either, so it was a mystery to both of them. But then again, his gut told him the problem was bigger than what he thought it was and might come to haunt him if not solved now.

So he did the most sane thing he could think of: He asked her to talk to him about it. He knew the wedding preparations would start the minute you came back, so he wanted to make sure to fix any problem that might affect you both before it blasted out of proportion.

—

“You kissed me,” was the first thing Eva told him after sitting down, making Chan’s heart drop to his stomach.

“Huh, but I don’t remember anything,” Chan retorted.

“It’s not about you remembering or not, it really happened, Chan, and I hate it,” she said, her voice almost breaking.

“Hey, calm down. We were both intoxicated, and we didn’t do it on purpose. Any other time and we wouldn’t have done it,” this seemed to have little to no effect on improving the girl’s mood.

On the other hand, Chan’s blood pressure was rising. The last thing he needed was a big mistake from which he could never turn back. With you coming back from Germany in less than a week, he needed everything in his life to be sorted out, especially something that could jeopardize a relationship with so much love in it.

“Chan, I think I like you. I’m not sure when it happened, or how it did. But I like you. So please don’t tell me I wouldn’t have done it if we weren’t intoxicated.”

The impact of this statement was so immense that it completely shattered his world, leaving him in disarray. It was true that he liked Eva. What kind of feelings he actually held for her was a mystery to him.

So, in the spur of the moment, he kissed her.

Just a few minutes ago, it was bothering him, but once he took the step, he didn’t feel what he was supposed to. He didn’t feel the disgust and hatred towards himself he should have. It felt like sneaking out of his house when he was not supposed to. It made a rush of excitement run through his body. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him.

He felt alive. maybe it was the feeling of doing something forbidden or it was something else, he didn’t know.

But, that night, they did more than kissing.

—

Once you were back, it was all sunshine and rainbows in the first few weeks. You both were happy, spending all your time together and having fun relishing in each other’s presence.

But it didn’t take you long to notice the changes. He would be stuck late at the office but come back home surprisingly lively, or those random texts from his brother late at night asking him to come over, or even the most obvious of them all, the vibrant smell of floral perfume that you never wear.

But you held out. You had promised to give him a chance to explain himself if he came clean to you. But that day never came. You asked him about these odd behaviors, but somehow he would always evade the topic altogether.

All those questions of ‘where were you last night’, ‘when will you come home’, or ‘shall we go on a date sometime soon’, all went unanswered.

He outright ignored your presence at home. But this didn’t stop the wedding preparations. Because his siblings and your parents alike loved him, they had taken the responsibility to take care of the wedding plans.

Before he could continue with his little escapades, Seungkwan caught and confronted him. Not by you but by Seungkwan. The older boy’s disappointment was beyond words. He screamed at him for an hour straight and then he had sat Chan down and calmly said,

“Either you tell her or I will.”

“But I can’t; she will leave me if I ever tell her.”

“Then she will be right in doing so.”

“Chan, I love you to death, but either you stop this and tell your girlfriend the whole truth, or I will take matters into my own hands. She has put up with enough of your shit. Don’t hurt her more,” he had said.

“Give me some time; I will do it as soon as possible,” the younger one had strained out, fisting his hair.

“She better know about it all before the wedding,” Seungkwan had warned him before seeing himself out.

—

Chan had cut off Eva after that. He tried to change everything before actually marrying you. Then, being the kind person you are, you tried to understand your boyfriend. You really did. But this was the first time in ten years you considered leaving him.

This relationship didn’t make you happy anymore. But you had gone through so many troubles together. The effort to hold each other upright was taking a toll on you.

But you were a fighter. You had fought many battles with him by your side. You couldn’t give up on those years either. Your internal dilemma was killing you. But all of this came to a halt one day when you had come back from your night shift, only to find your boyfriend and the girl he oh so diligently claimed to be his good friend, talking in the living room.

It was not like they were trying to be quiet because you could hear every single word spoken by them.

“Chan, it’s yours.”

“Eva, I have a fiancé. I will never leave her. I already told you, I love her.”

“Oh, so you didn’t think about that before fucking me”

“It was a mistake”, Chan shouted.

“No, it wasn’t, we both were very sober”, came another shout

The conversation hit you like a truck, and with each sentence, you felt your heart shattering. The decision suddenly seemed a bit too easy to make.

You walked out of the chaos, leaving the ring behind on the shoe rack. That night, you stayed at your friend’s place.

Following that event, you called Seungkwan, informing him that you won’t talk to Chan anymore. He simply asked if you wanted any help moving out, to which you answered with a simple no.

That was the end of the relationship for you. You refused to talk or see Chan ever again.

—

Now, five years later, Chan is to be married again. Not with you; no, he missed his chance. It's with Eva. They figured the best way to raise Minhan was to be together. In a county like theirs, it wasn’t the best idea to raise a kid with two unmarried parents.

Chan loved Minhan to death. But he could never show the same love for Eva. Looking at her reminded him of the mistakes he made in life. It reminded him of the happiness he could have attained, but he lost due to his own faults.

He is happy Seungkwan is still beside him. He knows he doesn’t deserve a friend like him, so the fact that Seungkwan stayed beside him makes him feel grateful.

He knew that his wife and child would move in with him soon, but he didn’t have the courage to let them into the house yet. The house that held both your memories was a bit too precious to let go of so easily.

The next day came faster than he anticipated. As Chan stood there waiting for his bride, he saw a face that he had been longing to see for the last five years.

He saw your face, sitting there on the benches, a sad smile adorning your face. Your eyes filled with emotions and stories of the years you had spent together.

Oh, how badly Chan wanted to abandon everything and run to you. Apologize a hundred times and ask you to take him back. But he couldn’t; he had children to take care of and shoes to fill.

As he stood there saying his vows, hoping it’s you he saw walking down the aisle and it’s you he kissed, but they are called dreams for a reason. And not all dreams come true.

As he kissed his bride, he saw a glimpse of your teary eyes amongst the crowd, and a tear of his own fell. Wishing for a future he was never destined to have.

the end

[jucyfruit]

Julien Baker Track by Track - An Interview with Apple Music

“Everybody is scared of death or ultimate oblivion, whether you want to admit it or not,” Julien Baker tells Apple Music. “That’s motivated by a fear of uncertainty, of what’s beyond our realm of understanding—whatever it feels like to be dead or before we're born, that liminal space. It's the root of so much escapism.”

On her third full-length, Baker embraces fuller arrangements and a full-band approach, without sacrificing any of the intimacy that galvanised her earlier work. The result is at once a cathartic and unabashedly bleak look at how we distract ourselves from the darkness of voids both large and small, universal and personal.

“It was easier to just write for the means of sifting through personal difficulties,” she says. “There were a lot of paradigm shifts in my understanding of the world in 2019 that were really painful. I think one of the easiest ways to overcome your pain is to assign significance to it. But sometimes, things are awful with no explanation, and to intellectualise them kind of invalidates the realness of the suffering. I just let things be sad.”

Here, the Tennessee singer-songwriter walks us through the album track by track.

Hardline

“It’s more of a confession booth song, which a lot of these are. I feel like whenever I imagine myself in a pulpit, I don't have a lot to say that's honest or useful. And when I imagine myself in a position of disclosing, in order to bring me closer to a person, that's when I have a lot to say.”

Heatwave

“I wrote it about being stuck in traffic and having a full-on panic attack. But what was causing the delay was just this car that had a factory defect and bomb-style exploded. I was like, ‘Man, someone got incinerated. A family maybe.’ The song feels like a fall, but it's born from the second verse where I feel like I'm just walking around with my knees in gravel or whatever the verse in Isaiah happens to be: the willing submission to suffering and then looking around at all these people's suffering, thinking that is a huge obstacle to my faith and my understanding, this insanity and unexplainable hurt that we're trying to heal with ideology instead of action.”

Faith Healer

“I have an addictive personality and I understand it's easy for me to be an escapist with substances because I literally missed being high. That was a real feeling that I felt and a feeling that felt taboo to say outside of conversations with other people in recovery. The more that I looked at the space that was left by substance or compulsion that I've then just filled with something else, the more I realised that this is a recurring problem in my personality. And so many of the things that I thought about myself that were noble or ultimately just my pursuit of knowing God and the nature of God—that craving and obsession is trying to assuage the same pain that alcohol or any prescription medication is.”

Relative Fiction

“The identity that I have worked so hard to cultivate as a good person or a kind person is all basically just my own homespun mythology about myself that I'm trying to use to inspire other people to be kinder to each other. Maybe what's true about me is true about other people, but this song specifically is a ruthless evaluation of myself and what I thought made me principled. It's kind of a fool's errand.”

Crying Wolf

“It's documenting what it feels like to be in a cyclical relationship, particularly with substances. There was a time in my life, for almost a whole year, where it felt like that. I think that is a very real place that a lot of people who struggle with substance use find themselves in, where the resolution of every day is the same and you just can’t seem to make it stick.”

Bloodshot

“The very first line of the song is talking about two intoxicated people—myself being one of them—looking at each other and me having this out-of-body experience, knowing that we are both bringing to our perception of the other what we need the other person to be. That's a really lonely and sad place to be in, the realisation that we're each just kind of sculpting our own mythologies about the world, crafting our narratives.”

Ringside

“I have a few tics that manifest themselves with my anxiety and OCD, and for a long time, I would just straight-up punch myself in the head—and I would do it onstage. It's this extension of physicality from something that's fundamentally compulsive that you can't control. I can't stop myself from doing that, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And for some reason I also can't stop myself from doing other kinds of more complicated self-punishment, like getting into co-dependent relationships and treating each one of those like a lottery ticket. Like, 'Maybe this one will work out.'”

Favor

“I have a friend whose parents live in Jackson, where my parents live. They’re one of my closest friends and they were around for the super dark part of 2019. I'll try to talk to the person who I hurt or I'll try to admit the wrongdoing that I've done. I'll feel so much guilt about it that I'll cry. And then I'll hate that I've cried because now it seems manipulative. I'm self-conscious about looking like I hate myself too much for the wrong things I've done because then I kind of steal the person's right to be angry. I don't want to cry my way out of shit.”

Song in E

“I would rather you shout at me like an equal and allow me to inhabit this imagined persona I have where I'm evil. Because then, if I can confirm that you hate me and that I'm evil and I've failed, then I don't any longer have to deal with the responsibility of trying to be good. I don't any longer have to be saddled with accountability for hurting you as a friend. It’s something not balancing in the arithmetic of my brain, for sin and retribution, for crime and punishment. And it indebts you to a person and ties you to them to be forgiven.”

Repeat

“I tried so hard for so long not to write a tour song, because that's an experience that musicians always write about that's kind of inaccessible to people who don't tour. We were in Germany and I was thinking: Why did I choose this? Why did I choose to rehash the most emotionally loaded parts of my life on a stage in front of people? But that's what rumination is. These are the pains I will continue to experience, on some level, because they're familiar.”

Highlight Reel

“I was in the back of a cab in New York City and I started having a panic attack and I had to get out and walk. The highlight reel that I'm talking about is all of my biggest mistakes, and that part—‘when I die, you can tell me how much is a lie’—is when I retrace things that I have screwed up in my life. I can watch it on an endless loop and I can torture myself that way. Or I can try to extract the lessons, however painful, and just assimilate those into my trying to be better. That sounds kind of corny, but it's really just, what other options do you have except to sit there and stare down all your mistakes every night and every day?”

Ziptie

“I was watching people be restrained with zip ties on the news. It's just such a visceral image of violence to see people put restraints on another human being—on a demonstrator, on a person who is mentally ill, on a person who is just minding their own business, on a person who is being racially profiled. I had a dark, funny thought that's like, what if God could go back and be like, ‘Y'all aren't going to listen.’ Jesus sacrificed himself and everybody in the United States seems to take that as a true fact, and then shoot people in cold blood in the street. I was just like, ‘Why?’ When will you call off the quest to change people that are so horrid to each other?”

(x)

[vexerieart]

The Lords in Black and their obsession with wants

I've already had the theory of tgwdlm and how it relates to wants, but NPMD takes it to a whole new level. The Lords in Black are obsessed with wants. This is easily show within the Lords in Black song, specifically the:

"whatever we want we want we want whatever we want we get, whatever you want you want you want forever in our debt!"

This line is super interesting. It even stuck out to me the first time I watched it. Once you get your want, you are indebted to the lords in black. It's a 'I scratch your back you scratch mine' scenario. And we have seen it before!

Pokey - Once you get your want within tgwdlm, that is the seal to your death. I could go into a whole in depth theory here, I have on in my google drive, but I will keep it shorter than that here. Paul originally wanted a black coffee, which we knew wasn't his actual want, and the hive tried to provide that with CORC/COPC and that would've been it, but Paul actually wants Emma and he gets the promise of Emma after the helicopter crash and gets her officially in Inevitable. Emma wanted a pot farm and to not die in hatchetfield, and to finally see paul. She got all three. Ted wanted to screw around with another man's wife and he definitely did that. Bull wanted his daughter. Charlotte wanted to be wanted/loved. They all got it and they all died. TLDR is that once anyone admitted to their want in tgwdlm, they would get it and proceed to die. It was a game of chess. Also the line "What do you want, Steph?" that is a clear mirror to TGWDLM- GOD!

Wiggly - He focuses on the want for more than you have; the want of happiness and to fill those holes. Everyone wants that, but it's more prominent in adults within Black Friday. In exchange for those holes to be filled, you give him power. You give him the means to escape and be free in your world, but you don't know that. Nothing comes free in Hatchetfield, and it isn't just the simple price of 49.95. You're in his debt.

Tinky - The want to change the Past. In exchange he drives you to insanity, satisfying his sadistic needs. Once again, not that you know that. But there is always a price to pay for a redo in time.

Nibbly - The want for Power. Not only does Roman literally channel his power from Nibbly, but it is also shown in the Honey Queen Festival itself. Anyone who ends up being sacrificed to Nibbly was hungry for power, but instead of you getting it, Roman does and it ends your life as your soul gets devoured.

Blinky - The want for knowledge / to see all. This one you might be confused by. Alice wants to be at the party and to know that her girlfriend isn't cheating on her, and the one thing holding her back is her father. Meanwhile, Bill wants to know what is going on in Alice's life so he can have a closer relationship to her. The debt that must be paid for blinky is complete corruption of your mind, as you lose sight over what is truly important. It's a game for him.

Once you have gotten what you have wanted from the lords, committed your trade, there is always a major sacrifice. But for stuff like Grace's situation, it also opens up a new door for the lords. The ability to gain valuable resources/people to serve them. Grace was such an easy person to manipulate to serve her want, to rid the world of dirty dudes, while also serving their want. The want to feed on others souls so they can wreck havoc on the world when the time comes.

[chuluoyi]

tw vent — a personal life problem. i just have to leave it here bc i’ve been crying for two days. it’s long… so feel free to scroll past it :’)

i’m… about to break up with my bf of 2 years

he’s a really kind person. and i don’t exaggerate it. he always makes sure to show me that he loves me through little actions like forehead kisses whenever we meet up, getting me a customized keychain with my name on it, getting me meaningful gifts and flowers on important dates unprompted… and every simple and little gift he gave me i have stored inside a box and there are so many i’m bawling whenever i look at them bc i’m so touched that a man who loves me really exists :’) he’s my prayers coming true. i used to pray for a boy who will accept me as i am and he comes at the perfect time near the end of my college year when i thought everything in this world was jaded

not only that he also spoils me, goes along with anything i say… he is serious regarding our relationship, introduces me to his parents and siblings. i thought i no longer have any worries about the future. and i can say i’m 90% content with my life now— a great job, a nice boyfriend, financially independent… my life is too good sometimes it feels scary

but there’s no such thing as a perfect life and i’ve dreaded it quite some time… because i know that both of us have been avoiding a certain issue just so we don’t burst our happy bubble… and now that issue has come to bite us

we’ve been in a LDR for two years and i’m honestly okay with it, but whenever questions about the future comes up—like “where should we live in the future?” i always clamp up bc for certain i want to live in my hometown, where my job, parents and social life are. but the thing is… he has his own thing in his city, where his parents reside and he’s the first son so he’ll inherit the family business there

i eventually voiced my worries about this to him, and do you know what his first reaction was? i was so sure he’d immediately get worked up and convince me to leave my job

but no. it never happened

he was so shaken. and yet… he never denied me. he said he’d talk to his parents about it… he said he’d be fine with this arrangement even if he has to be the one going back and forth. he said anything that would make me happy… he’d do it

and i believe him. until the end, i believe him. because he really means it even until the end

i’ve predicted it already. no way are his parents going to agree with this. i know bc just put yourself in their position—your bright first son has everything in order, set to inherit the family business, but he’s going to live a hard life of LDR only for some girl… that’s simply unacceptable

now you might wonder why i’m so dead set with living in my hometown. in chinese culture, when a girl marries, she usually lets go of everything and goes with the husband. but i really, really love my job here. i love the work i’ve been doing, community and friends i’ve made here, the salary and whatnot. not everyone gets a chance to work in my company bc it’s considered prestigious. working here gives me a purpose— i feel enabled here and i can be a part of something greater. i’ve won awards and i’m considered for a promotion too in just 2 years in this company, so it’s really hard for me to let go of it when i know i can be more than just a housewife. and so, whenever i imagine that i have to leave this company one day… i’m crushed

and not only that, my parents only have me. i’m an only child, and my father’s health condition isn’t the best either. i can only shudder whenever i think of them being alone if left them here

sometimes i think i’m too selfish for wanting this. for wanting to keep my job. for wanting to be with my parents. for keeping my social life. my bf is the one sacrificing energy and money twice a month to meet me in my city, and even then i still want to ask for more

but… i really can’t lie to myself and say it’s fine when it’s not. and what makes me cry even harder is the fact that when he finally tells me what his parents’ opinions are… he cries too and said all of these:

“i want us to be together. i feel so, so lucky to have met you. there are some days in which i thought that if you weren’t there… then it’d be much harder.”

“i’m always so happy seeing you all happy and energetic, doing things you love. i don’t want to take that from you.”

“if i make you go with me, i’m afraid that one day… you’ll regret leaving. i’m afraid you’ll be unhappy and tell me ‘if i’ve known this earlier… i wouldn’t have left at all.’”

it’s the depth in which he thought of all of these. i cried on the spot in front of him because… what have i done? what should i do? i love him, i really do but in the end, i can’t let go of everything for him either

and the cherry on top? he doesn’t even want to instigate the break up. he said everything is in my hands now. he wants nothing more than keeping our relationship, but he doesn’t have the heart to make me unhappy. even until the end, he says whatever my decision is… he’ll accept it even if it hurts

i’ve been crying since yesterday. it’s so hard to let him go when memories of the past two years pop up one by one. he’ll pick me up, hug me on hard days, tell me that i’ll do just well, adore me and make me feel confident in myself… he’s been a really great emotional support for me and i’m so, so grateful to have met him too

now we’re still in a limbo. i’m too shaken so i obviously am not able to tell him what my answer is. we agreed to think of this further and talk about our decision in 2 weeks, when he’ll come to meet me again

i don’t know what my answer is even until now. i know the best course is probably breaking up bc we can’t agree on this particular point… but it’s not easy, not when we still love each other this much

. . .

for any of you who have taken the time to read this until the end… thank you :’) this blog is the safest corner i have and i really don’t want to bring any sort of negativity here… but this time i’m just too sad with everything and i think i need a space to confide in💔

[lokiiied]

my thoughts on the making of loki s2:

• “our approach was really doubling down on who loki cares about, who we care about.” and then having season 2 centre around loki & mobius’ relationship, how he cares for his friends, and sylvie’s independence & what she wants/fought for like okay cool got it.

• “tom is the author of all things loki” he really, truly is. bless him.

• ke huy quan must be protected at all costs the world does not deserve him

• loml rafael casal 💞💅🏻

• “mobius can be eccentric, because loki is eccentric, he just is. but they don’t see themselves that way. they’re the straight man (???) in this absurd world.” 🤨🧐 kevin…you were going somewhere and then you lost me.

• “this is her first chance to experiment with freedom, with choice.” (about sylvie). and her choosing a simple life, with the comfort of routine and connecting with a few particular humans and just appreciating life. the little things. with no romantic motivations that we see. big aspec energy.

and then replaying the scenes where she says “my life’s here now” and “your friends are where they belong. we’re all writing our own stories” like. yeah. just reiterating how important this life she’s built is to her and she has no interest in going back. she appreciates loki & mobius and the others in helping her to keep/save free will - but aside from that, she’d be fine never seeing them again. because if she did - it would probably mean trouble. fighting again. running again. and she’s already spent her whole life fighting and running. she’s tired. of course she was upset they kept seeking her out, cuz she thought she was done. that she fixed everything that mattered. even though she didn’t. but now she gets to live. and be sylvie. “not a loki” and to figure out who that is.

• 700 PAGE BOOK??!!? isaac bauman, the cinematographer. wrote a 700 PAGE “cinematography bible” of the entire visual language of the show. down to the smallest lights. the pure tism dedication. this is what i’m talking about when i say everything is intentional. every shot. the lighting. the tone. every time someone writes an analysis about these themes in this show - just one page of this mans work is appreciated. i never want to hear anyone talking shit about “reading too much” into cinematography. i have isaac bauman’s loki cinematography bible on my side.

• wunmi is so funny and warm i love her energy

• TOM “HELPING” OWEN UP THE STAIRS. 🫴🏻dead.

• christopher townsend sounds EXACTLY like an older tom holland it’s tripping me up

• “what is it mobius says…” tom says and then recites the line word for word. as if loki wasn’t thinking of that line while sacrificing himself. as if mobius’ words weren’t echoing over him in the final shot of the show. he’s so funny.

• speaking of…owen only talked for like 5 minutes what?? probably started rambling about mobius’ gay feelings for loki and they cut it :/ seriously though did they just not ask him questions?? his presence felt weirdly lacking.

• tom hiddleston everyone. our lord and saviour

[irlkdj]

Doksoo Analysis: Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint [SPOILERS]

I’d like to talk about the relationship between Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung and how I perceive it. At its core, I think their story portrays that when we really love someone—truly and fully—we are willing to give up our own happiness to ensure theirs. This is something we see from both Sooyoung and Dokja. Han Sooyoung may seem selfish at times, especially at the beginning of the novel, but that’s because we did not yet know at the time that she gave up each of her nights and slept away her days to save Kim Dokja. We see Kim Dokja constantly throwing his life away because he loves his companions—something he is often berated for. So yes, the two of them are the same in this aspect: I love you, and I will destroy anything that gets in the way of your path to happiness. I will uproot the world and empty oceans; I will shoot down the sun and grab the moon to give to you, so long as you are safe and happy. Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung are not perfect people. And I think they see the faults in one another, and love even those pieces of themselves that the other hates. Han Sooyoung who hated Kim Dokja so much for sacrificing himself over and over again—and yet she ended up doing the same thing for him. Her memories, her time, her youth. She spent all that time ensuring the happiness of a little boy who thought he couldn’t be happy. We see in the epilogue that Han Sooyoung truly loves every part of Kim Dokja as she races after him in that train station. She reflects on his negative and positive traits positively:

“That was the exact same face of Kim Dokja she remembered.

The man who came to her 1863rd regression turn. The man who she wanted to see again. The detestable man with his own brand of ass-kissing. The man who lied really easily. The man who she enjoyed being around, since they could lie about something together and snicker among themselves.

‘----‘

The man, who didn't remember her.”

When Han Sooyoung even considers the possibility that Kim Dokja could really, truly be gone, she thought: “That was the sound of someone only living in their past finally letting go of that very past. Right at that moment, Han Sooyoung was overcome by the bizarre guilt of corruption, of betrayal.” Her regret of not being able to save him properly. All of her efforts wasted. But they weren’t wasted, not to Kim Dokja, who got to experience love, joy, friendship, and family because of Han Sooyoung. She created a world in which he could be happy. She crafted a universe where Kim Dokja could be loved just by being.. Kim Dokja. So they’re really in this constant loop. Han Sooyoung sacrifices herself to save Kim Dokja, Kim Dokja sacrifices himself to save the world she created. And then she tries everything in her power to get him back. And Kim Dokja continues to love that story she created for him:

“Not being able to comment did bum me out. I wanted to let Han Sooyoung know of my emotions one more time. To tell her that I could only come this far because of the story you gave me, that I loved your story more than anyone in this world.” 

Kim Dokja loved her story. But people are stories too. Friends, families, lovers, strangers. We’re all stories in the end. Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja. She wrote the story. He read it. They created a world together. And in the end, they tore it all down to ensure the happiness of those they loved. Because what is the point of such a world if Han Sooyoung cannot turn to her left and tease Kim Dokja. What is the point of such a world if Kim Dokja cannot take another joyride with Han Sooyoung, and get made fun of for screaming “I am the protagonist!” 

I’ll leave with this. The last thing Han Sooyoung wished to do before her memories faded was to see Kim Dokja. Just to /see/ him. Can you grasp the weight of this action? 

“Kim Dokja felt that sensation of touch on his shoulder and looked behind him.

However, the incoming waves of commuters heading to work swept him up, and he got pushed into the subway, instead.”

Just one last touch. One last glance. One last time—can I please see him again? Can I please see the man that I am about to ruin the world for? Can I please see that he is whole? That he is real? That he isn’t words behind a screen? I think this moment really displays just how much Han Sooyoung really.. loved Kim Dokja. Wholeheartedly and unapologetically. Just seeing him one more time before disaster struck, and knowing all that was about to ensue: that was her moment. The moment that made it all worth it. This man. This pathetic man. I will destroy the world for you. And I will not apologize for it. So don’t you ever apologize for existing, and don’t you ever forget how loved you are. 

[leftoverdinosaurbones]

Drawn Together

One-shot: Gortash x fem!Tav

This is a gift for @nusaran for the Elfsong Tavern’s Valentine’s Day gift exchange. Thanks for the fun prompts!!

Content Warning: NSFW (minors do not interact), little bit of smut (afab Tav), house fire

Summary:

It's a day of celebration at the Elfsong Tavern, which is bursting at the seams with decorations, ale, and patrons. Everyone is eager to partake in the festivities and express their love for one another.

Well, almost everyone.

Your mind is elsewhere tonight. You have yet to find your soulmate, though one person in particular has been consuming your thoughts. And he isn't the type to attend a party at the Elfsong Tavern. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be, anyway.

Set in game during Act 3 (spoilers!). You can read it below or on ao3.

Gale is in particularly high spirits this morning.

He hums softly and smiles to himself, like someone just shared the most delightful secret with him.

His hands work in their practiced way, pulling the most beautiful decorations from the weave. Soft pink pastels dance among deep burgundies while pearl white accents twist them together, joined by garlands of flowers. It reminds you of home. Of celebrations with your friends, your family. Of a lighter time, seemingly lifetimes ago.

His outlook on life has taken a turn for the positive these days, though you suppose having a new lease on life could do that for a man. Only just a few days ago, you convinced him not to sacrifice himself to the netherbrain - instead, you believed that he was worth sacrificing for. Even if that meant more danger in the future, or an unknown path. We would all do it, together.

You grip a bit tighter to the warm mug in your hands as you walk over to Gale.

“What are we celebrating?” You ask, coyly.

“Oh,” Gale breathes out with a deep, content sigh. He drops his attention from the weave and focuses his eyes on yours.

“You must know what day it is! What we are celebrating! We partook in the festival each and every year back home in Waterdeep. I assumed it was well-known in Baldur’s Gate as well, but given your reaction - and Astarion’s as well - perhaps you’ve been suffering without such a holiday your entire lives! Please, allow me to explain it to you. It is a celebration of love - the divine and sacred bonds between family, treasured friends, and lovers.”

His hand reaches out for your arm, gently squeezing near your shoulder before letting his hand drop back to his side.

“I just wanted to thank you, again. I know that I truly cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. For every single thing you do for me. You’ve made me start to believe in myself again - to believe that I am worth lifelong friendship… and perhaps even love.”

Your eyes dart away from his to look towards the ground. He is being so vulnerable and forthcoming with you, like always. But you can’t help having this wall up between you, holding you back from letting him in. You bring your mug up to your lips to distract from the growing silence.

“…perhaps even love, with someone, one day,” Gale relents. “I know we are only fated to be friends, and I respect that. Our friendship means the world to me, I hope you realize that.”

Gale’s words are warm and sincere. You return his kind words with a soft smile, looking back up at him.

“I really appreciate your friendship too, Gale.” You settle down on a seat nearby to watch as he brings the weave back to vibrant life.

You know, deep in your heart, that Gale will find his perfect match. At least they will be relatively easy to recognize, given the unique scar decorating his chest.

While many people form relationships - largely temporary - with others without matching scars, that idea never appealed to you. Oh, perhaps a stolen night here and there, but never anything real. You couldn’t see opening yourself up to someone, to let them in so deep, just to have them leave you for their real soulmate.

Your eyes scan the room at the Elfsong Tavern until you find Astarion. He is sitting on the ground, cross-legged and hunched over something he was working on in his lap. His scowl is present in every feature of his face - his lips drawn into a tight frown, his forehead knit together in frustration, his eyes narrowed. You assume he is bitter about the festival, and it goes beyond the fact that romance makes him feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.

This festival would only serve as another reminder of the many impacts of his vampiric affliction. Though otherwise a good thing, his skin can heal on its own - therefore, he has no scars. He will never be sure of his soulmate like the rest of us. And so he certainly can’t be sure that Wyll is his soulmate.

Time and time again, Wyll has offered reassurance to Astarion. Wyll will claim that the matching scars don’t matter to him, that he knows what is in his heart, that his love will never stray to another. But you can see the fear behind Astarion’s eyes. And you understand it.

Even now, you see Wyll crouch down next to Astarion and start to rub his shoulders, leaning to whisper something in his ear. Astarion flinches from his touch, reflexively. You look away to give them at least a modicum of privacy within this shared living space.

Swirling the liquid in your mug, your mind is pulled back into the events from the other day, when you entered Wyrm’s Rock. After your confrontation with the guard and the Steel Watchers at the bridge, you were surprised to receive an invitation to Gortash’s coronation. Though, from everything you heard of the man, he did seem a bit full of himself. Of course he would demand your attendance to that charade of an event, in his honor. Especially after you so easily defeated Ketheric.

You aren’t entirely sure why you accepted a strategic alliance with Gortash. He was clearly a better choice than Orin, though logic could also assume that you need not choose to ally with either of your enemies. His words were tempting, a seemingly genuine and alluring offer of shared power.

But that wasn’t what tempted you. The way he moved towards you with cool confidence. His tall figure loomed over you as he drew near. He didn’t have the same physical presence as someone like Halsin, but he frightened you all the same. He didn’t need it to appear formidable. To be imposing.

When he gripped your hand in partnership, you could swear he held on for just a moment longer than necessary. His dark eyes lingered on yours before trailing, slowly, down your body. Your heart lept into your throat as a flush of heat warmed your face and brightened the tips of your ears.

You tore your eyes away from his, embarrassment washing over you. Though, admittedly, this wasn’t the only feeling you were experiencing… You hadn’t felt those kinds of stirrings within you before. Not for any of your companions, despite their (many) advances.

No. You shook your head to try to distance yourself from such thoughts. A man like that, a follower of Bane, knows how to pull you into his web. This isn’t personal - it’s his own strategic manipulation, just like he used Karlach.

“Here.” You are startled out of your memories by a tight, strained voice. You look up to see Astarion handing Gale a delicate, embroidered heart.

***

The Elfsong Tavern is a sight to behold tonight. Gale, as convincing as ever, was able to fill the room with decorations for the festival. He stood by the door to greet each patron and provide them with a rousing introduction to the holiday, whether they were interested or not.

You find yourself at the bar, sipping on a glass of wine. You glance around the room as it is filled with joyful guests. Some were paired off and dancing - Wyll gracefully led Astarion as they danced together. You recognize it as one Wyll had been practicing on his own for several nights at camp.

Others were locked together in deep conversation; Lae’zel and Shadowheart among them. Over the past few months, you’ve watched their relationship move from enemies to friends. You saw perhaps a hint of something deeper, here and there, but they didn’t seem ready yet to admit that to themselves. You smile into your wine as you take in a deep drink.

Karlach and Halsin were making their rounds throughout the tavern. Halsin made fast friends wherever he could, offering stories and friendship to anyone who might be in need of it. Karlach, with her recent upgrades and ability to touch people, was very eager to make up for lost time.

All around you, people were happy. Your companions were coupling up - perhaps not with their soulmates, no. But at least they had some companionship, some connection. Why does it matter if it is only temporary? You might not even make it through all of this alive.

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself away from the bar and walk out to the front patio. You rest your forearms on the railing, closing your eyes. No one at the tavern caught your interest, anyway.

Your mind begins to drift, filling with ‘what ifs’. What if Gortash were at this party? Would he even notice you? Has he been thinking of you? Does he feel as ridiculous as you do, pining over someone after one simple interaction? What if...

The smell of smoke fills your nostrils and rips you away from your thoughts. Your eyes snap open, scanning the sky for smoke. You see a small plume of it begin to stack and rise into the air. You feel your legs propel you towards it before you can even register your actions - you know you don’t have much time to think about a plan of action before it’s too late.

Soon, you arrive in front of a small home. Through the window, you can see the flames rising, building up in strength. Amid the smoke, you see a figure, hunched over and immobilized in fear. You cast misty step to get inside the house.

“I’m here to help!” you call out to the person over the roar of flames. They lift their head towards you, their face contorted between fear and hope. You see a back window nearby, close enough that they could escape.

“Step to the side!” you command, and they dive for shelter out of your path. You cast thunderwave to bust open the window so they can make their escape. Glass explodes out through the back, allowing enough space for the person to make a quick leave. However, the new opening allowed for a rush of fresh air to flood the house, adding new fuel to the fire.

The flames leap up with greater force, tongues lashing at the ceiling and quickly melting through the thatches of the roof. The force and ferocity of the flames knock you back, breaking your concentration. You lost the small opportunity you had to fly out of the house after casting your spell.

The walls of flames burn hotter around you and smoke starts to fill your lungs. Panicking, you fall to the ground, desperate for air, throat burning. If you had only taken the time to think, for even just a moment, perhaps you’d have called for help from Karlach before leaving the tavern. Or you could have asked for a Steel Watcher on your way.

One last idea comes to your mind as your body begins to shut down for self-preservation. You feel your magic build within you as you summon everything left inside. Eyes blurry, the spell leaves your lips in a whisper.

Slowly, heavy droplets begin to build into a steady downpour, dampening the roar of the flames. You welcome the stinging rain as bit at your cheeks, offering relief from the heat gathered on your cheeks. Coughing, you struggled to try to get up, weak from the inhaled smoke and spent magic.

Through your blurry peripheral, you notice a figure enter the house. Could it be one of your companions, looking for you? Grateful, you remained on the ground and raised a hand, hoping they could notice you and help you out of this mess. Heavy steps come briskly towards you, and you feel one arm scoop up under your knees while the other holds your back. They lift you up into their arms to carry you out of the building.

Exhausted, you let your head fall against their chest, clutching the fabric of their jacket with your hand. Rain continues to pour even outside of the house (how strong was that spell?). Completely soaked, you begin to shiver, in violent contrast to the state you were in only moments ago. They hold you tighter to their chest as they walk briskly, tirelessly, down the street.

Finally, you are able to open your eyes and register the direction you are going.

“The Elfsong Tavern is the other way,” you mumble softly, bringing your eyes back to your hand that is pressed against their chest. You freeze, a jolt sent straight down your spine. This body doesn’t feel familiar to you. Against all better judgment, you will yourself to look up.

You see his long black hair, plastered down against his face from the pouring rain. The rain traces his cheekbones and small wrinkle lines, outlining his features. His dark eyes catch yours. They look right through you, piercing, hardened, angry. Your body tenses as you flatten your palms against his chest, ready to push yourself away.

He lifts your body up slightly to press his lips into the top of your head.

“Don’t.” He whispers before bringing you back down again and pressing you against his chest.

You aren’t sure why, but you listen to him. You close your eyes and lean your head back into his chest.

***

Finally, you are inside. Warmth burns your cheeks, though your body is freezing from the wet clothes clinging to your body. You are brought to a room where he gently sets you down on a chair. He hands you a health potion, which you quickly drink without a second thought. The liquid starts to work immediately, repairing your raw throat and the other, thankfully minor, injuries from the fire.

Gortash bends over a hearth, coaxing up the flames. You are surprised to see him like this - Lord Enver Gortash, on his knees, making a fire for you?

He crosses the room in a couple of broad steps, soon standing at your feet.

“We need to get you out of these wet clothes.” Gortash extends his hand towards you.

You raise an eyebrow up at him.

“Unless you want to get sick, and make an embarrassingly easy target for Orin.”

Of course. That is what this is about. He is simply protecting his business partner. Protecting his assets.

You roll your eyes, feeling self-conscious about your earlier thoughts and curiosities about your potential relationship. You take Gortash’s hand with an aggravated huff, masking your hurt feelings and slightly wounded pride with a show of annoyance.

He brings his gold-adorned hands up to your shoulders. His fingers linger near the straps of your dress, the metal tips of his gauntlet ghosting your skin. Gently, he slips the straps off to the side of your shoulders. Surprised by the softness of his touch, a small gasp escapes your mouth.

He touches your shoulders again, urging you to turn around. You give in, the tips of your ears turning bright red as you face away from him. His fingertips drag, slowly, from your shoulders to the middle of your back. Though his touch is gentle, it scorches your skin, sending waves of white-hot heat through your body. You tighten your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms and bite your bottom lip to stifle any unintended sounds that threaten to escape.

His fingers find purchase on your zipper and he pulls it down, opening your dress to the bottom of your back. He brings his hands up to the top of your dress and drags it down your body, the wet fabric clinging desperately to your skin. He follows it down your body, around the dip of your waist, over the curve of your hips, down to your ankles, then helps you step out of dripping cloth. He hangs the fabric over a chair near the fire, with care. Who is this man?

You try to make sense of this. He is just helping you. Helping his business partner.

You turn back around to face him. The hair on your body stands on end as goosebumps fill your exposed skin. Gortash steps back in front of you, closer this time.

He reaches his hand to catch your jaw in his grip, the metal tips biting into your skin. He lifts your chin up, eyes blazing as he takes you in. Eager to consume you. You struggle to pull away, to shield yourself from his hunger, but his grip on your jaw is steadfast.

He swipes the pad of his thumb across your chin, tracing a faint scar. A deep sigh rumbles within his chest. With his free hand, he brings yours up to his face. You copied his movements, placing your fingers along his jaw, running your thumb along the scar on his chin…

Wait.

Wait.

No. That’s…that’s just a common scar. So many people have scars on their face. It will take more than just this to convince you.

With trembling hands, you reach up to unlace his shirt. You fumble a bit, unsure if it’s because of nerves or the sloppy way in which he laced it in the first place. Finally, you grasp the bottom of his shirt and pull it up over his chest, peeling off the wet fabric as it clings to his skin. You take in the sight of him, the fire casting a dim light and deep shadows across his features. Your eyes trail along his warm, tanned skin, watching the subtle flex of the muscles in his arms as he pulls the shirt over his head. Dark hair, damp and lightly glistening, decorated his chest down to his stomach, disappearing in the waistband of his pants.

But, most importantly, your eyes land on a spot on his side. Impulsively, you reach out a hand to trace the line etched into his skin, a jagged edge, poorly healed. You hadn’t been able to stitch it up well enough to prevent the lasting mark. And here it is - reflected in another.

You drew in a sharp breath as the reality of this situation came crashing down into you. Enver Gortash: The man who kidnapped your friend’s father. The man who betrayed your friend and damned her to the hells. The man who controls the Netherbrain, and wants to rule over all of Faerûn.

Your soulmate.

Gortash laces his fingers into yours and leads you to the bed nearby. He sits you down on the bed and steps back. His hands move, slowly, to unbuckle his pants.

You bite your lips, holding your breath.

He let his pants fall to his ankles, kicking away the gathered fabric at his feet. Your eyes flick down below his waist for just a moment, long enough to glimpse the size of him straining at his undergarments. Gortash meets your wide eyes with a lazy half-smile, the knowing smile of a man with a dangerous amount of self-confidence.

He parts your legs to stand between them, raking the sharp points of his nails up and down your thighs. You shiver, feeling a burning need start to wind up inside your core.

He continues his exploration, hands running slowly over your hips, your waist, and dragging up to your breasts. He cups one in each hand, massaging gently before bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud, pinching your other nipple with his hand. You cry out, throwing your head back as you tangle your hands in his damp hair.

He releases you from his mouth to continue his slow worship of your skin, leaving soft kisses up your chest and over your shoulder. Once he reaches your neck, his kisses get more needy, more desperate. He opens his mouth to bite - hard. You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist to press him closer to you. You know that are already leaking through your panties, and that doesn’t stop you from trying to grind your hips against him, making sure he feels just how badly you want him.

His mouth is replaced by his hand over your throat, metal-tipped nails digging sharply into your skin as he dulls your air supply. You bring your hands to the one at your neck, but his grip is firm. Your thoughts are swimming as you pull in shallow breaths, and you claw at his grip in vain. As he takes more and more from you, your need for him only deepens.

He pushes you back on the bed, caging you in with his arms around your head. A moment passes as you look at each other, his pupils blown.

You bring his head towards yours, inviting him in. His lips meet yours, tentatively at first, then mad with fervor - clashing against yours like a man starved. His tongue dances against yours, exploring your mouth, desperate to taste all of you. Your nails dug for purchase across his back as he groans into your mouth. You line your hips up with his, grinding yourself against his clothed erection, soaking it through. You wanted more, needed more of him, clawing and pulling at him to press you both together.

He breaks from the kiss, panting, and pushes his body off of yours.

“Ilyana.” Gortash says your name with confidence, possession. Hearing your name from his lips did something to you. You arch your back, keening towards him, wanting him - needing him - to take you. He slips off your panties and removes his last layer. You watch as his hard cock springs loose from his clothes, the tip of it already glistening with precum. Your body aches, desperate for him. He watches you writhe with anticipation as he slowly strokes himself.

“I have been waiting forever to find you. To have you. And now, you are mine.”