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blood-smiles · 3 months ago

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𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐎 𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐀࣪ ִֶָ☾✴︎˚｡⋆

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 - MDNI TW!! suggestive thoughts and actions coming from yandere . yandere character . defo unprofessional behavior from reader . TO BE CONTINUED!!

╰┈➤ the white flashing of your camera lit up the room, capturing a perfect moment in time inside your device.

Scrolling through the pictures with your thumb, you nodded wordlessly at the various pictures. Perfect and beautiful.

Just how you liked it.

Packing up your gear, you decided it was time you went home, you were tired. Really tired from taking so many pictures, you felt a migraine coming from a mile away.

The soft patter of rain met your eardrums, letting you know it was drizzling and would probably last for a while.

You walked slowly, umbrella in hand, staring at the moon above while rubbing the sides of your head. The soft crashing of the waves hitting the rocks nearby.

Plugging in your headphones and playing some soft music while you walked to your house.

You counted the stars in the sky as you walked along the beach.

“ ♪ Luna quieres ser madre?.. y no encuentras querer que te haga mujer, dime Luna de plata.. Que pretendes hacer con un niño de piel.. ah-ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah.. Hijo de la luna.. ♪ “

You came to a stop, seeing a taller (wo)man (?) leaning against the railing, strange that they were out so late. It was so dark already, what could they possibly be doing out here, in the rain of all places?

Their heterochromatic eyes gazed up at the sky too. Their face solemn and distracted, the rain pouring down over their head and back, their light blue—almost white, wavy hair dampened and forming beautiful coils.

They were so pretty, looking like an angel under the moonlight.. Were your spidey senses tingling right now? You just felt like you should approach them.

“Excuse me.” You interrupted softly, holding out your umbrella over their head, stopping the rain from dampening them even more.

“..What?” Oh, they had a deep voice.. you were caught off guard, they had very feminine traits and flowing long hair, so you just kind of assumed..

“Here.” You handed him your umbrella, which he accepted hesitantly, his hand shaking as he held the handle of the umbrella.

His eyes snapped towards your face, looking deeply into your eyes, looking for a sign of deceit or malice, but only finding kindness and genuine empathy.

His cheeks flushed a little, his ears turning red as he admired your features… how would it feel like if he ran his tongue along your cheek?—What. What was he thinking?!

His fingers slightly grazed your own, sending shivers down his vertebrae and sending his heart into overdrive.

Snatching the umbrella, holding it close to his chest as he stepped back a little.

“You know, I hope this doesn’t sound creepy but, you’re stunning— You should try modeling! Who knows, maybe one day I’ll photograph you.”

You joked lightly, putting your hands above your head to shield yourself from the water.

His free hand shakily lifted to cover the bottom portion of his mouth, pupils blown wide as he stumbled back a little.

..That was the cutest interaction he had ever had up to this point in his entire life. That bashful smile— The twinkle in your (e/c) eyes— everything about you had him in a trance!

“G-Get lost!” He yelled, tightening his hold around the umbrella and running away, his heart beating in his ears, heart swelling and feeling the wings of a swarm of butterflies nicking his guts.

You were left standing under the rain, rethinking your wording and kicking yourself in the stomach internally for scaring off a potential client.

And… that was the last time you saw him, or so you thought.

Oblivious to you, he just ran off because his heart was in over drive and might have exploded from a cuteness attack.

He glanced down at your umbrella, his eyes zeroing in on the small writing on the handle, ‘Y/n L/n’? That was the name of the cute idiot he met?

Looking up the name all results showed up, your face everywhere! He shakily touched your “face”, staring into your eyes for an alarming amount of time.

A famous photographer, huh?.. He thought about what you said.. A model? Him? Well, wouldn’t hurt to try.

3 years later…──★ ˙📷 ̟ !!

You had been hired, a big shot model was coming to your studio to get some magazine pictures done.

You opened the models portfolio, checking out some news about him too, he had gone viral lately.

“Son of the moon’? Huh, interesting.” You mumbled, taking in the model’s proportions, his face rung a bell in your brain. But as hard as you tried to get your synapses to connect, you just couldn’t form a coherent memory..

‘Mikhail White’ …

You chalked it up to seeing him in magazines or social media.

Putting the portfolio aside, your feet pushed you off the ground , walking over to your setup and making minor tweaks to your studio while you waited leisurely

“(Y/n), they’re here.” The voice of your assistant interrupted your movement, nodding your head you put your hands over your professional camera and looped it over your neck.

You stepped back, letting the makeup artist enter with their big box of makeup supplies, then came in the manager of the model, eyes sharp and analytical as she clasped her clipboard in her arm.

And finally, the model entered. The star of the show, Mikhail, A pretty average sized person, for a model, that is. He stopped in front of you, staring you down with those uniquely colored eyes.

You got that feeling again, was it Deja vu, perhaps? Their eyes hit a chord in you, yeah. You had seen them before.. Just where?

“Welcome, thank you for hiring me.” You smiled warmly, turning your gaze to the manager, extending your hand out for a friendly handshake.

The woman scoffed softly, shaking her head “No thank you, I don’t do handshakes.” The tall woman gently replied, although it sounded more like a mother scolding her child.

“O…Okay.” You laughed nervously, letting your hand begin to drop to your side.

“Thank you for having me here, (Y/n).” The model suddenly spoke, gently taking your hand and shaking it before it could totally fall.

“Oh, um. Yeah, for sure!” Taken off guard you reciprocated the hand shake before letting go, his hand not letting go completely.

You pulled your hand free with a soft tug, turning to sit down on your chair as you wait for the makeup artist to doll up the male.

You stared at him from a distance, you felt like he had curly hair, but instead were met with silky, straight hair running down his back.

Mikhail was shaking, his hands quivering on his lap as he looked through the mirror on the vanity. He stared at your form through the reflective surface, watching how you scrolled through your phone or opened the portfolio with his pictures.

Did you think he was attractive? Did you like his hair? He decided to try something new for you, he hoped it caught your eye…

He gently bit down on his bottom lip, looking down to let the artist work on his eyeshadow, he wanted to physically recoil from the person’s hands, wishing it was yours instead.

He had worked up to this point for three whole years, all just to be photographed by you, one of the best photographers in the whole industry.

Ever since that night, under the pouring rain, he couldn’t wipe you off his brain, you were like a drug,the image of you gnawing at his sanity. It hurt so good though, so good he couldn’t stop and soon found himself addicted.

You indirectly changed his life, he went from being a pathetic nobody to one of the most popular and influential models of his time, and honestly.. It was all thanks to you, even if you don’t remember him.

Mikhail dressed in a lacy attire, showing off part of his stomach and most of his thighs, his hair decorated with small silver clips and silk bows, beautiful diamond earrings hanging off his ear lobes.

His face sparkled with glitter, long white eyelashes fluttering, his visage was that of perfection. Comparable to an arctic fox nestled in silks and diamonds, you could see why the media called him the ‘son of the moon’ more clearly now.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” You complimented, leading him to the middle of the shot, he looked up at you, not saying anything, however the flush of his ears said different.

Now, if you remembered correctly, the theme was ‘wedding after-party’ although you didn’t know it was going to be this suggestive..? You did agree to it so no backing out anymore, you suppose.

You had something in your mind already so you just ran with it, the manager agreed with your idea too, you expected her to spit in your face and tell you no in all honestly..

He gazed at the camera with a sultry gaze, imagining it was you he was looking at, he did as you asked, allowing you to brush some of his hair or to position his soft strands as you wished.

He peered up at you through his eyelashes, looking almost desperate, leaning into your touch subconsciously. This had been a fantasy of his for a long time, a real wet dream for him.

In fact, he had pressed for the theme to be more suggestive, wanting you to see him in a more intimate scenario.

In the last shots of the session, everyone came to an agreement to put some false cake frosting pieces over Mikhail, leaning more into the wedding cake aspect.

You dipped your hand in the substance, grabbing some in your hands and leaning down to smudge some over his face, dropping some here and there strategically.

You took your camera back in your hands, positioning it perfectly for it to capture the scene’s beauty and allure.

The ice blue haired man bent and arched his body any and all ways you desired, placing his hands on his lap as he took some of the frosting on his finger and brought it up to his mouth, licking it, sending you the most loving and passionate gaze he could muster.

Wordlessly hinting with just his sharp eyes how much he wanted something other than a few pictures, something that was spelled with four letters, D-A-T-E.

That..wasn’t scripted, but you just went with it and snapped a few pictures. You leaned back in your chair, stretching out the knots in your back and listening to the pops in your spine.

That was the last of the shots, all you need to do now was transfer the pictures to his manager and get a sweet sweet wad of cash back.

You smiled at the thought, sighing pleasantly.

You bid the trio of workers goodbye, although the rosy cheeked model stayed back, approaching you and putting a small piece of paper in your hand shyly.

Right before you were about to say something he shut you up by pecking your cheek gently.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, his voice soft and heartfelt, it was more…intimate, more meaningful than a simple ‘thanks for taking my pic’, he made it sound like you had just swooped in like Superman and saved his life.

He clasped his hand over yours, making sure you kept the paper in your hand as he began leaving hastily, not lingering for a moment more or less.

‘Go out on a date with me..? XXX-XXX-XXXX ♡’

Well shit. Things just got a whole lot interesting.

#Dividers by dollywons #yandere x reader #smilesyanderes #yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #Mikhail posting #yandere male #soft yandere #yandere blog

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emacrow · 8 months ago

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Damian and the Dumpster baby.

Damian was doing patrols, with a bit of a minor rescuing and feeding the strays animals until he heard a noise from a dumpster.

Tonight was going to be a storm coming, and he rather check up on the strays, feed them, fixing any of the secure hiding places he put out for them for rain occasionally, and try to smuggle 1 or 6 into the barn again without Father knowing. Alfred can keep a secret sometimes.

Jumping on the edge of the dumpster to see a plastic bag tied up on the pile of trash with something squirming inside, alive obviously. Oh if this another group of puppies, he going to find the culprit himself and break their kneecaps and arms this time.

Easily untying the plastic bag and opening to reveal.. a little baby.

Not a kitten or a puppy, a living breathing human baby, cut and tied umbilical and a pale with a unique birth mark in a shape of a lichtenberg from his tiny hand fading to his chest.

This..

This was out of Damian's comfort line.

He had dealt with saving animals, people, children, hell even toddlers. He never dealt with a baby before much less a newborn.

He could panic later as he hear the sounds of a storm brewing. Carefully picking up the baby by the back of the head and and by the body, using his cape to as a blanket to cover the obvious nudity of the baby. Climbing onto his Red Robin theme Doom Buggy.

Taking care of a baby is no different then taking care of a baby animal, right?

.....

He got caught after 5 month and a half by Alfred during feeding Danyal time, while scolded him about hiding the baby instead of coming to him.

He had a good reason to though, last time he told Alfred about the last newest addition, Bruce sended the Jafar the Ligor to a sanctuary. He still felt betrayed by that.(even though now Jafar is happily spending his days with the other mixed big cat breed but still)

He done a good enough job taking care of Danyal, even though he had to secretly look up baby stuff, medicine, clothes, a soft bedded cot and diapers.(the smell was much less worse then the sewer) he considered himself a great care-taker.(even though in the back of his mind, he feared that he might had unlocked that genetic adopt-bat bait traits that Dick warned him about)

Damian had gotten.. a bit attached, considering the idea of putting danyal in orphanage or a foster care wasn't ideal afterall the corrupted ones that Father and him had broken through over the years left a bad gut feeling if he had actually gone through with his plan. Danyal was one of his babies, only not covered in fur, scales, or a shell.

And he didn't do everything all on his own, Cass was the only who figured it out, kept it a secret and help out.. then steph found out... and Jason, Tim and Duke unfortunately found out after Cass and steph snuck danyal in the manor for a nice bath.

Only reason Dick didn't found out because everyone know he can't keep a secret away from Bruce's ear for long after found out Jason's new girlfriend was the new therapist in Gotham, and telling Bruce would feed his adopt-holic again and he end up having baby fever. (Tim didn't tell him what that word meant but he did look it up in a baby care guide book for new parents. And EW)

They were going to wait it out til Danyal was at least toddler age before sneaking him in the manor to gatekeep gaslight girlboss Father into thinking he already adopted him. (Steph's words, not his)

New post <-

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incognit0slut · 2 years ago

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BATTLE SCARS

Part 2 of kinktober | main masterlist

What started out as innocently counting body scars with your coworker, who you were stuck in the same bed with, ended far from being innocent.

sub!spencer x fem!reader; Face sitting, male and female oral, body worship, cockwarming

words: 6,300 (I couldn’t help it the buildup was fun to write)

a/n: I hope this shows up on your page because apparently this app hates me

"THERE’S ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT."

Of course, there is, you thought, eyes glancing over to your partner of the day. Spencer was the one you were partnered with when Hotch had sent you to check on the victim's childhood home. He's good at deducing clues, was what your unit chief had said, and although those words were well-intentioned, you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected.

One month of working in the BAU meant that everyone would scrutinize you, even when you knew you were more than capable of doing the job. It wasn't like you were randomly picked for this position. You went through the same process as everyone else did. You were as smart as everyone was but it seemed that your boss still thought you needed a babysitter to do this simple task.

One month of working as the latest addition to the team also meant you didn't know your colleagues that well, which was why you wondered what was going through Spencer's mind in this current predicament. What did he think of the sudden thunderstorm hitting this remote town just as you were about to leave? What did he feel about having to seek shelter because driving in this terrible condition wasn't a choice anymore?

And what ran through his mind when the guy behind the counter, who looked like he didn't even want to be here in the first place, said there was only one room left?

"Are you sure?" Your coworker pressed on, eyes darting across the computer screen sitting on the desk. "Did you check every room? All of them?"

The man in front of him quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job right?"

"No, he's not," you cut in. You glanced at Spencer, noticing he was constantly fidgeting on his feet. You might not know him well enough, but you were a profiler, and with the way he kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, you could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. You wondered what had him so worked up like this. Was it the idea of having to spend the night with a woman?

Well, he did seem like the type of guy who didn't have his fair share of nights with the opposite sex, but then again, you weren't going to start guessing his personal life. Although you did once see him act all bashful in front of a witness who, you had to admit, was the epitome of sweet and innocent. Her traits were probably on the top list of his preferred type, exactly the opposite of yours.

Huh.

So was it just the idea of spending the night with you that ticked him off?

"It's fine," you said, looking back at—you narrowed your eyes at the name tag clipped on his shirt—Kevin. His name was Kevin. "We'll take it."

Spencer's eyes fell on you. "But—"

"But it's pouring outside and neither of us should be driving in this horrible weather," you added. "End of discussion."

He looked like he was about to retort a reply when a sudden string of light cackled through the night sky, followed by another heavy downpour. He winced as his shoulders slumped, another posture of discomfort but one with a hint of defeat. You saw him reluctantly nod from the corner of your eyes.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll take it."

Kevin slid a key across the wooden desk. "Room 306."

You thanked him and grabbed onto the key before turning on your heels. The walk to the room was extremely quiet except for the constant sound of the rain pouring outside. Spencer shuffled his feet beside you, and even though you wanted to fill in the silence, the thought of him not wanting to room with you annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.

Were you really that bad? Was the idea of sharing a room with you repulsive for him to act this way?

When you finally reached your shared room, an immediate sense of awkwardness washed over you like an unexpected wave. The room, though not large, was well-furnished and neat. But what caught your attention was the sight that greeted you in the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a bed—not large enough to be luxurious, yet not small enough to be cozy.

Your eyes met briefly with his and a moment of unease passed between you two. Finally, he broke the silence with a hesitant voice. "I can sleep in the car."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. "It's pouring outside."

"Right." He sighed, realizing the impracticality of his proposal. "Well, then I'll, uh, sleep on the floor."

"Reid." Your narrowed eyes fixed on him, your patience wearing thin. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing."

He paused, clearly taken aback by your straightforward response. "A-Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," you replied, showing your back to him. "I'm going to use the bathroom first."

"U-uh, yes. Sure. Of course," he stammered, his voice trailing off as he watched you leave the room.

You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you washed your hands and splashed some cool water on your face, you couldn't help but wonder what had led to his initial hesitance. The storm outside was fierce, and the idea of venturing into it to sleep in the car or on the floor seemed impractical, to say the least. You knew that sharing the bed was the most sensible option, but there was an unspoken tension in the room, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why he had been so reluctant.

Turning off the tap, you took a deep breath. Whatever. He could act all uncomfortable as much as he wanted and you could pretend he wasn't even there. So you decided to shed your jeans, leaving yourself in the oversized button-up shirt that served as your makeshift nightwear.

The shirt fell gracefully to the middle of your thighs, offering a sense of ease you couldn't find in your uncomfortable jeans. With them neatly folded and placed on the bathroom counter, you looked back into the mirror one last time, straightening your wrinkled shirt, and ran a hand through your hair before stepping back into the room.

You found him seated on the edge of the bed, his posture awkward and uncertain. You watched as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the single window in the shared space, his eyes narrowing each time a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the pane.

You decided to break the silence. "You know, it's just a little rain. We'll be out of here as soon as the weather clears up tomorrow."

His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, in his eyes. "It's not about the rain," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

So it really was about you.

His gaze then traveled over your exposed skin, and you could see his eyes growing wide, clearly taken aback by your choice of attire. "W- What are you wearing?"

Unable to suppress a chuckle at his sudden shift in demeanor, you decided to play along. "Do you mean what I'm not wearing?"

He blinked, his response caught in his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. His gaping mouth and wide-eyed expression only fueled your amusement. You shrugged in response, trying to play off his intense gaze, but you felt his eyes linger on your thigh, fixated on the long scar mapping along your skin.

"Reid," you called out, and he looked up at you, his expression wry as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"Y-yes?" he stammered, clearly flustered by being caught in the act.

You pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use it now," you suggested.

His face lit up with realization. "Oh! Right," he exclaimed, his flustered state evident as he stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

The awkwardness seemed to follow him as he disappeared into the other room. After turning off the main lights, you left only the soft glow of the bed lamp, which cast a warm ambiance in the room. The covers provided a sense of security and comfort as you finally settled beneath them.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt he seemed to wear under his button-down shirt. However, unlike you, he still had his pants on, although he did discard his belt.

Seeing him in this stripped-down, casual state was a bizarre sight. You had grown accustomed to his poised and professional demeanor, and the sight of him dressed in ordinary clothes seemed oddly intimate as if you were witnessing a side of him that few others had seen. It was as if you were seeing him naked even when he was still covered in most of his clothes.

He then settled onto the bed with a noticeable awkwardness, causing the mattress to sink down slightly under his weight. He lay far away from you, in a stiff and distant manner, clearly still grappling with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Reid, relax, I'm not going to bite you," you said reassuringly, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room. A small, playful smile danced on your lips. "Unless that's what you want me to do," you added, your voice taking on a teasing note.

A brief moment of silence followed, and it almost seemed as if he was contemplating your playful offer. You felt the tension shift into something else, but before it could further linger, you decided to break the silence with a forced laugh, shaking off the tension. You then rolled over to your side, closing your eyes shut, ignoring the sound of heavy rain hitting the window and the bolt of lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. You just wanted to rest. You just wanted peace. You wanted to sleep.

But sleep didn't want you.

About ten minutes later, you groaned softly and rolled over onto your back. "Reid," you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in response.

"I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice carrying a hint of restlessness. Turning to face him, you propped yourself up on your elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," you suddenly requested, your curiosity cutting through the awkwardness.

He hesitated for a moment as if considering whether he should respond to you or not, but then he eventually asked, "Anything?"

"Anything."

"Well, I—uh," he cut off, and with a faint hint of modesty, he began again. "I'm extremely smart."

From all the information he could share, he decided to share that. But it was still something, at least you could get your coworker to talk instead of fidgeting in discomfort. "Yeah? How smart?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 and three PhDs."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's impressive," you responded, but then you let out a scoff. "And extremely conceited. Someone asks you to share a fact about yourself and you decide to brag about your brain."

Your remark earned you a small, amused smile from him. "You told me to share anything."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in a little closer. "Alright, your turn."

He gulped at your sudden movement but kept his attention on your eyes. "My turn for what?"

You laid on your back again. "Ask me something," you suggested.

There was a moment of hesitation as if he had been contemplating whether to ask the question and then his voice filled the air. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows furrowed slightly.

"Y-Your scar."

You couldn't resist a teasing tone as you turned your head toward him. "Spencer Reid," you taunted, a playful glint in your eye. "Were you checking me out?"

His response was quick and slightly flustered. "What? No!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a mere observation," he clarified, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Your laughter filled the room, a light, and genuine sound that seemed to dissolve some of the remaining tension in the air. "Alright, alright," you conceded, still amused by the exchange. "Observation duly noted."

Without warning, you kicked off the covers, a spontaneous decision driven by a mix of curiosity and the playful atmosphere that had developed between you. Your actions were unanticipated, even to yourself, but perhaps it was his flustered self that had spurred you on.

As the covers fell to the side, you extended your leg, showing him the white scar dancing along the inner part of your thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze drawn to your exposed skin. For a moment, there was silence, as if the room held its breath, and then he met your eyes.

"Fell off a cliff from a hiking trip," you explained, your voice softening with the memory. "I was exploring a trail and had a bit of a mishap. It left me with this scar as a souvenir."

His eyes flickered over the scar. "Did it hurt?"

You shrugged. "It did, but I guess I got through it."

Then, to his surprise, you began to unbutton your shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief at your actions. "W-what are you doing?"

You merely grinned in response, your confidence unwavering. You pushed the material of your shirt off your shoulder, revealing another scar, smaller and darker than the one on your thigh. "This is the most painful one," you explained. "A bullet from a handgun."

He examined the scar intently. "What happened?"

"A chase with a suspect a few years ago," you recounted, recalling your life before you joined the BAU. "We cornered the suspect in an abandoned warehouse, it was a tense standoff. He was armed, and in the chaos of the moment, a shot was fired." You gave him a smile. "I was the unlucky one in the way."

Your eyes locked with one another in a moment of shared understanding, and then you asked, "What about you? Any battle scars?"

He paused for a moment, considering your question. He seemed hesitant at first as if debating whether to share, but then he slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a scar on his lower abdomen. "Flying bullet."

He turned slightly, revealing a slight scar on his lower back, the result of a sharp weapon grazing his skin. It was a subtle yet significant mark. "An Unsub armed with a knife." He then laid back on his back again and tapped his right leg. "There's another scar from a bullet on my knee."

You couldn't help but tease him lightly, your tone playful. "Well, aren't you a magnet for disaster?"

His expression softened at your teasing. You stared at each other silently, taking in each other's presence in the close proximity the bed offered. You weren't sure how, or when for the matter, but it seemed the distance you both created grew shorter in the span of time you were talking.

Your gaze drifted over his features, from his brown orbs to his pointed nose, then along his high cheekbones before settling on the small scar underneath his jawline. It was a subtle mark, but it caught your attention, and you couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch it.

"What about this?" you inquired, your finger tracing the scar. "How did you get it?"

His breath seemed to catch at your sudden touch, and he stammered slightly in response, "I-I cut myself with a razor this morning."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his explanation, and your finger continued to graze his skin, skimming along the faded scar in a circular motion. "And how bad did it hurt?" you asked.

"Not so much," he whispered, his breathing starting to become uneven and it was at that moment you realized how compromising of a position you were in. He was on his back, and somehow you managed to press yourself onto him with a leg resting on his, your hips flushed against his side.

Maybe the rain, the rhythmic pattern of the raindrops beating in synchronized with your heart pushed your actions. Or perhaps it was being in the same bed. Whatever it was, the undeniable proximity between you created a charged atmosphere in the room. Every breath felt heavy, and the air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, drawing you even closer.

You wanted to kiss him. How could you not when he was looking at you with those eyes? It was hard to ignore this sudden pull of attraction, but Spencer seemed like the type of guy who rarely made the first move. Maybe you needed to initiate it first.

"You know..." you began, your eyes trailing across his tiny scar. "I was thinking of kissing it better?" Your words hung in the air, and you felt him stiffen beside you. "If it was painful, that is."

A charged silence enveloped the room after your suggestive offer. Your heart raced, taking a leap at the first step in crossing the line. He could either play along or push you away, it was a risk you were willing to take, and you prayed he was into it just as you were.

"A- Actually," he stuttered. "I think I'm starting to feel the pain now."

You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. "Oh, you poor thing." And before he could respond, you bent over and pressed your soft lips against his scar. You felt him momentarily freeze. "Better?"

You thought he was about to back away when he didn't answer, but then his words had you grinning from ear to ear.

"...I'm not sure," he replied, his voice cutting through the silence. "I think it still hurts?"

Your smile grazed his scar again, softly, barely even touching it, before you trailed down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as you felt his grip on your hip. "I-I don't think that's where the scar is."

"I know." You opened your mouth, your tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I'm making a scar of my own."

Your parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as you softly sucked on the spot below his ear. You always loved receiving neck kisses, but giving them? There was a certain sense of power to be able to make someone shiver under you, and it was what he was doing right now, breath hitching every time you sucked on a different spot.

You cupped his face as you continued to trail your lips along his neck, pressing your body closer to his. You moved your hand lower, fingers grazing his jawline before it rested around his throat, and as you put slight pressure on your hold, you heard him inhale sharply. You paused, not sure you were hearing right, but then you tightened your grip around his neck and a soft, strangled moan escaped his lips.

You smiled.

Spencer Reid, you naughty, kinky boy.

"We can stop if you want," you murmured against his skin because truthfully, you knew you couldn't restrain yourself after this.

"N- no," he sighed. "Don't stop."

It was enough for you to throw your leg over him. You lifted yourself up and straddled his lower half, stifling a moan as you felt the hard pressure between your thighs, and pressed your lips against his. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him with so much fervor. Your lips collided with his as you pushed your tongue inside his opened mouth—tasting him, exploring him, devouring him. Who would've thought you would enjoy kissing your coworker this much?

You pulled away and studied him. Spencer was a blessing to witness. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his hair was disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips were swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion bore the marks of a flush and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing away a strand of hair from his face.

"You're so pretty." Those words came out of your mouth without much thought in which you received a breathless sigh in return.

"You're.... you're more pretty."

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair. "You understand I'm not going to stop now, right?" He faintly nodded. "And do you know what that means?"

He shook his head.

"It means I'm going to fuck you," you taunted, a wicked smile curling on your lips. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to use that smart brain of yours.”

The whine flying out of his mouth was enough for you to lean in closer, your lips extremely close to his but not quite touching. "Can I be rough?" His strangled whimper had you wrapping your hand around his throat again. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes," he breathed out. "Please."

"Good."

You pulled your hand back and brought it down sharply on his cheek. The sound startled you because it sounded harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Spencer looked genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, jaw falling open. He blinked himself back into focus and you were about to ask if you were being too much, but then he looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The dazed and desperation of his gaze moved right through you, flushing you with heat.

"Such a pretty boy for me," you said, gently rubbing his cheek. You watched him, a curious smile playing at the corners of your lips. In that moment, you felt a peculiar sense of power and intimacy that was unlike any other you had experienced. It was an odd but exhilarating sensation, feeling an almost illicit delight in the power you held over him.

You then slowly straightened yourself. Taking your time, you began to unbutton your shirt as his gaze burned into you. You popped each button open until it left the sight of your black, laced bra on display for his eyes to devour. Your bra showed a hint of skin over the top, bouncing a little as you pulled yourself out of your shirt.

You reached behind your back to unhook your bra before slipping it from your shoulders, allowing your breasts to bounce free. Spencer couldn't help but swipe his tongue across his lips at the sight. Your breasts were on display with hardened, aching nipples to taunt him. You brought them in your palms, playing and squeezing your flesh for a moment just to tease him.

"Do you want to taste me?"

He let out a desperate sigh. "Please."

You placed the palm of your hands on his chest before leaning in, dropping your breasts right in front of his face. It didn't take him long to know what you wanted, and he quickly wrapped your right nipple in his mouth, his tongue hot against your skin.

"Fuck, Spencer," you moaned. You shivered upon the contact. His mouth sucking on your nipple was making your head delirious. Warmth spiraled from your core to the rest of your body as he tasted you, and when you thought you couldn't feel more aroused than you already were, he let go of your swollen nipple just to give his attention to the other one, sucking even harder.

You couldn't handle it anymore. A moment later your fingers ran down his chest, brushing over his stomach to feel him tense beneath your touch until the second you grip the hem of his pants. "Take these off for me."

You had never seen someone move so fast before. The moment you climbed off the bed, he started peeling his clothes from his body piece by piece. He left no article on before throwing his clothes to the floor, eyes raking your body as you stood before him in nothing but your panties. Those were quick to go, however. You pushed them down your hips and flicked the thin fabric past your feet.

A strained groan filled his chest as he looked at you, marveling at your naked form with wonder. Thoughtlessly he wrapped a hand around the base of his hardened cock and your eyes instantly take in the sight. The way he was biting his bottom lip, fingers around his thick, hard length had your mouth watering, but you stopped yourself from giving in.

"Who said you could touch yourself?"

His body tensed. He quickly placed his hands on the bed as you climbed back on the bed, the mattress sinking in from your weight.

“I like to be warmed up a little first," you told him as you settled on top of him again, but this time, you scooted further, putting your knees on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes went wide as he looked up to see you wet and bare, hovering inches away from his face.

"I'm going to sit on your face, and if you can make me come on your tongue..." You started to lower yourself. "I'll give you your reward."

You felt his breath on your center, and the minute his tongue touched you, you let out a moan. He worked his tongue over your clit, swallowing every drop of arousal dripping down his mouth. You gripped the headboard and rocked yourself back and forth while he continued to lap on your pussy without any care for the mess you made. You were wet and sloppy as his tongue moved in and out of you, up and down your folds while also sucking on your swollen clit.

"Oh my god," you moaned, looking down at where you could see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he groaned on your flesh, wrapping his arm around your thighs while never stopping stroking your wetness with his tongue. He held you tight, keeping you in place, and there was nothing else you could do but buck your hips as you ran your hands through his hair and tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words or the breath in you to speak as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before gathering up your juices and circling back to the swollen bud, massaging your flesh with the flat of his tongue. You felt the bliss swelling inside your body. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm getting close," you warned him, beginning to grind your pussy against his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, sending vibrations through your body in return, and with a few more laps around your clit, you finally reached your high.

You felt the warmth from between your legs surge through your whole body. Your pussy walls tightened as you kept rocking your hips against him, whimpering, moaning, crying out that you were coming. You shivered and trembled above him, tossing your head back, gripping his hair even tighter, and pressing your thighs together around his head.

It took a moment for you to come down from your orgasm, and as you did, his motions slowed down, licking you gently, his hands soothing down your thighs. You finally lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.

"You did so well," you cooed. You slowly shifted down his body, and when he thought you were about to straddle him again, you surprised him by moving lower.

“Let me give you your reward." You sighed while wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock in a firm grip. "You deserve it."

He felt so hot in your hand, so thick, so big, and utterly beautiful. You slowly moved your hand along his length, stroking him gently as you watched his lips parting open from the pleasure. You continued to stroke him, motions slow and steady, and he eventually closed his eyes, head falling back against the bed. You swiped your thumb across the tip, his eyes shot open as he looked at you.

"Keep your eyes on me."

He carefully propped himself on his elbows to get a better view just as you gripped him tighter while leaning close. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored so you leaned in and licked it up, your eyes meeting his gaze, and his jaw slacked open in pure pleasure. A pause settled in the room before you finally took him fully in your mouth, giving him an exploratory suck.

You kept swallowing him down, your jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth, wrapping your hand around what was left. You hollowed your cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across your tongue and his cock hit the back of your throat.

Without warning his hips jerked up, and you gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "I'm s-sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay, baby, I'm giving you your reward," you whispered before holding his throbbing cock in your grip again. "Hold my hair up for me?"

He did exactly as he was told, gathering your hair in his hands. Your mouth enclosed around him again and you repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with your tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until you had every inch of him in your mouth.

You glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as you moved your head in a rapid motion. He panted out a whine, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air.

"Please..." he whimpered, bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burned at the sound of his own desperation. You gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, so pretty and needy. He blinked down at you, your cheeks flushed and lips stretched wide, an utterly obscene sight as you kept swallowing the entire length of him.

And then you felt him starting to shake, his body trembling while the grip on your hair tightened at every stroke of your tongue. You could tell he was on the brink of exploding, yet you didn't want him to finish inside your mouth, so you pulled away just as quickly as you began.

You could tell he was about to whine a protest, but he immediately stopped himself as you climbed on his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and guiding it towards your aching pussy. But then you stopped, eyes meeting with his, your voice softening. "Should I use a condom?"

"You can..." he mumbled as if it was hard to even articulate any words when his tip was already brushing against your wetness. "You can do whatever you want."

You lingered for a moment, grinding yourself against the tip of him, getting wetter as your arousal dripped out. "I want to feel you."

The whimper he let out was loud, almost pornographic. "I want to feel you too."

Then you began to slide his cock into you, slowly, taking your time to draw the moment out. Your body went tense in an instant, you could hardly handle the way his size was pushing into you.

"Fuck, you're stretching me," you moaned the words, tossing your head back while closing your eyes. The content sigh leaving your lips was loud when his tip finally hit that soft spot. You had never felt this full before and you wanted to soak in the way he was filling you so deep, so you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you sit there with his cock stuffed inside of you.

For you, it felt nice, but for him, it was torture. As warm as you were, as tight as you clenched him, he still needed more. With urgency, he reached for your body before his eager hands landed on your hips, a groan of desperation built in his throat as you stayed there, not moving a muscle. "Can... can you move?"

You kissed a spot below his ear. "Why should I?"

"I-I..."

"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want." Your tone was soft, but you didn't drop the entirety of your dominance. "Do you want me to ride you? Is that it? You want me to fuck you senseless?"

"Yes," he rasped out as if he had been holding his breath. "Please..."

You gripped him by the throat. "Say it."

"Pl-please fuck me," he gasped, gulping for air.

You smiled.

"Good boy," you replied. You began moving against his cock, grinding yourself over his lap, feeling him fill you up and hit deep inside you. It was almost too much but you remained focused. Your palms pressed to his shoulders as you pushed yourself up, moving your hips against his body.

He could feel you squeezing him. Every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls, and every moan that rumbled from your chest. His huge palms wandered over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. His eyes glazed over to where you were connected, the sight of your pussy clenching around every inch of him lulled him into a bewitching trance.

Soon you found a somewhat steady rhythm, circling your hips and grinding down on him faster, picking up your pace. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage and the concoction of arousal running down your thigh and dripping onto his legs.

"God, you're going to make me come so quick," you cried, your hand lowering between your thighs to reach your clit. With two fingers, you began to massage your flesh while bouncing down his cock, riding him, feeling the tip so deep within your walls. You let loose, moaning and whimpering. He couldn't help but groan, feeling your walls tighten around him, feeling your juices drip down his groin.

You felt him thrust upward towards you, following your pace, and a second orgasm started building low in your stomach. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the edge of your toes. It thrummed every nerve, vibrating you to the bone. "Fuck, I'm close."

His breath quickened as he felt your walls clenching him, his eyes brushing every inch of your body. You were such a sight to see. He was entranced by the way you were thrusting yourself on his cock, your breasts bouncing from the movement, your taut nipples begging for attention. He couldn't stop himself when he suddenly pulled you in, momentarily surprising you, and sucked onto your nipple hungrily.

You cried out when you felt his teeth softly tugging your nub. You were supposed to be in control, and you still wanted to keep your dominance, but it was hard to when he suddenly planted his feet on the bed and thrust his hips into you at a mind-numbing speed. Harshly. Roughly. Violently.

"Fucking hell, Spencer," you moaned, holding onto his shoulders. "I-I'm gonna—"

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed onto his unruly hair, tugging it back roughly before smearing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat and collarbones, voicing out your whimpers right into his ear.

That was enough for him—he came undone, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled into you, filling you completely with warmth with one last thrust. You followed him with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. Your movements became sloppy and uneven, clinging onto him as you chased your own high.

The room smelt of sex. It was your first thought when you finally felt your body relaxing, your mind coming back to its senses. Never, not even once in your life, have you ever considered kissing Spencer willingly.

Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had the most amazing eyes, and yes, his soft demeanor did attract you the first time you met him, but that was it. He was simply your coworker, one you didn't know that well, one who seemed to make a big deal out of spending the night with you... and ironically, one who had you shaking in pleasure.

You weren't sure what would happen next. At first, you thought your presence ticked him off in the wrong way because you were the new, inexperienced member of the team... but now you couldn't help but speculate the way he acted differently towards you had something to do with what just happened.

Maybe he didn't think of you as a mere colleague... maybe he thought of you as someone potentially more? You could be right, or you could be wrong, and there was only one way to find out. You softly let your fingers brush his cheek.

"You need to take me out on a proper date," you suggested through the silence. Then a smile bloomed on your face when you felt him dip his head in your palm.

The nod he gave you couldn't be anymore faster.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut

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ofbatsandballads · 5 months ago

Text

turn me into something tragic

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight suggestive thoughts from reader, brief mentions of Jason being hurt

a/n: been listening to the secret of us by gracie abrams and “let it happen” just feels so much like what falling in love with jay would be like. so here’s a song fic!

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You’re in deep. You wish you weren’t because this whole longing thing sucks. But you’re here now—so it goes, you guess. It’s not like you have any other options. You can’t just quit your job at the Robbinsville Public Library because there’s a very handsome man that always shows up from one to four in the afternoon. You can’t uproot your life and your ability to pay rent because he smiles at you whenever he returns his books, because his voice makes your chest feel warm when he asks if you can put a copy of Emma on hold for him.

No. You just need to suck it up and stop thinking about Jason fucking Todd.

A remarkably hard task, honestly. Especially when he shows up at one o’clock on the dot as always. The weather’s pouring rain today, a clockwork symptom of Gotham winters. You watch as he diligently drags his boots along the entry rugs, careful to not track water on the hardwood floors of the library. It’s sweet. He’s sweet—no. You don’t need to be thinking anything about him.

He walks up to your circulation desk, unzips his black leather jacket and places the books he’d been keeping safe from the rain on the old oak. He always returns them early. He must be a particularly voracious reader. It’s a trait you find ridiculously attractive. He reads all these classic romances, so he must have a good appreciation of longing and devotion and soul crushing love and what would it be like to be loved by a man like that—God, you need to stop.

“Hi Jason,” you greet him cheerfully.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

His voice is so pretty. It’s deep but not rough, and he’s got that lilt that all born and bred Gothamites have. He’s so soft spoken, whether by choice or nature, you don’t know. But it’s a beautiful combination, his tone and inflection. You could listen to him talk all day. You do listen to him talk for at least 30 minutes of each day you work.

“Your hair looks nice.”

It’s sheepish and it’s nearly a whisper, but it’s got your heart racing nonetheless. You’d cut your hair over the weekend, wanting a change. And if you’d hastily curled it this morning before work in a vain attempt to make it look extra pretty, then that was for you to know.

“Thank you,” you say, face growing warm, “Oh, your copy of Emma just came in!”

You reach into the cubby under your desk where you’d specifically placed the book once it was returned by a guy named Dick. You had asked how he liked it and he’d just said he didn’t get why his brother enjoyed these things so much. You didn’t talk to him much after that.

“Took ‘em long enough,” Jason mutters, shaking his head and causing little droplets of water to fall from his damp curls.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Most times people don’t wait over a month, but I got the sense that the guy didn’t really like it. Probably DNF’ed it,” you ramble as you push the book towards him.

Jason rolls his eyes.

“Some people have no taste,” he grumbles.

“Your taste is incredible.”

You don’t realize how horrible that double entendre is until you see the bright red of Jason’s cheeks. Oh, God, your inside thoughts are becoming outside thoughts. You really, really need to reel yourself in.

“I mean–I just meant–obviously books. Your taste in books. I have no idea about your taste otherwise.”

Yeah, that didn’t help. You want to crawl under your desk and die. Maybe the little old lady who works the morning shift will find your corpse when she clocks in.

“I–um–thank you?” Jason says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

He looks pretty when he’s flustered. You wonder just how pretty he’d look if he was under you all flustered like that. Jesus Christ, you want to gag your own inner monologue. You take one steadying deep breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a day,” it hasn’t, but he doesn’t know that, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He pauses, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He looks to be contemplating something of extreme importance. Then a resigned look crosses his face and his shoulders drop as he lets out a deep sigh.

“No, nothin’ yet. ‘M just gonna browse.”

And with that he’s off into the stacks. Once he’s out of your sight, you drop your burning face into your hands and groan. Humiliating. You’re so embarrassed that you’re jittery. You toss Jason’s books into the cart of returns and decide to make your way through the library returning them. The work distracts you from your own social suicide, as do the headphones you’ve pulled over your head.

You’re wandering along, head bobbing to the playlist you’ve entitled “book return bops”, when you encounter the source of your sudden emotional instability reading peacefully on the ground. He doesn’t notice or acknowledge you at first. It gives you time to admire him.

He truly is pretty. The cloudy light from the window throws shadows on his face, accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones, his jaw, his nose. He’s like an old Roman statue. A beautiful man that reads, is kind, and is built like a brick house. You’re doomed.

You wheel your squeaky cart into the aisle and start placing the books back in their rightful homes. Jason looks up at you, a soft smile blooming on his face as he watches you work. Little do you know that he stares at you the same way you stare at him.

You glance over at him and see that he’s reading Frankenstein. You drag your headphones to hang around your neck and interrupt the peaceful quiet that’s settled between you.

“I need to know what you think of that book,” you demand.

Jason raises an eyebrow, gaze roaming from you to the book in his hands and back.

“It’s one of the best novels ever written. And one of the most widely misinterpreted by modern media. It’s a little infuriating, actually, just how much every adaptation misses the point.”

You’re in love with him. End of discussion.

“Thank you!” you exclaim. “First of all, the Creature isn’t green and bolted! Second, he’s not the fucking villain! Victor is! How do you create something, knowing every step of the way what you’ve made, then abandon it altogether once you’ve given it life. It’s bullshit. He’s neglectful and obtuse and utterly unaccountable.”

You continue to rant about Frankenstein for a good ten minutes, allowing Jason to make annotations to your verbal essay. In your literary fire, you completely miss the stars that are dancing in the eyes of the pretty boy sitting on the floor. If you did see them, maybe you’d realize that you’re not the only one with increasingly absurd inside thoughts.

“Anyways,” you sigh, “you’re the only person I’ve ever spoken to who gets it. So thank you.”

“No problem. You’re the only person I can talk to about it,” he says, voice going quiet at the last part.

You cock your head and raise an eyebrow in question.

“Well, my best friend isn’t much for reading. He prefers building weird shit. And my…dad,” he chokes the word out like it’s poison, “he just reads fuckin’ history books. Not even the good ones. He reads stuff like the history of semiconductors.”

You laugh so loud that it echoes. You slap your hand over your mouth, suddenly conscious of where you work. You’re still giggling as you sit down next to him. You look over and feel any of the air you’d regained leave your lungs. He’s smiling at you, bigger and brighter than he ever has before. And the way he’s looking at you…it’s not at all dissimilar to the way you look at him. Maybe you don’t have to stop thinking about him after all. You steel your nerves and dig your fingers into the shelf behind you.

“Well, maybe I could get your number so we can book club it sometime. Just so you don’t have to talk about semiconductors,” you joke, nerves coming through in the slight shake of your voice.

His smile grows even bigger.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says as he hands over his phone to you.

As you punch in the numbers, you swear that you can see how it’ll all unfold. You don’t love him yet, but you will. One day you’ll love him so much you don’t know how it stays contained in your body. You’ll discover that he loves chocolate chip cookies and you’ll learn how to make them for him. You’ll learn he’s ticklish right under his ribs, that the muscle that joins his neck and shoulder is extremely sensitive to kisses.

You’ll have bitter arguments when he comes to pick you up for a date with a black eye or a busted lip or a bum shoulder. You’ll have a vicious screaming match where he finally tells you what he does at night. He’ll vanish for a week, then come back to find you curled up in a ball on your couch. He’ll never vanish again, he’ll make a home with you. You’ll worry every night he leaves your side. You’ll rejoice with every sunrise you watch together on your fire escape.

Jason Todd will turn you into something tragic, into a love-struck, devoted, messy version of yourself that you didn’t know existed before he walked into your life. And, just for him, you’ll let it happen.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #remy writes 🖋️#I may or may not have listened to let it happen the entire time I wrote this #just let me love jason todd goddamn it. the universe should isekai me if it has to. just gimme my boy!!!

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queers-gambit · 7 months ago

Text

Tower Scrolls

prompt: during the Siege of Eregion, Elrond barters for his fiancé's life, and her life's work.

pairing: Elrond x intended!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.1k+

note: brain go wonky, don't take this too serious

warnings: we got angst! we got drama! we got spoilers! i think it's more hurt and comfort, but to each their own! there's cursing, character injury, canon-complicit character death, blood, depiction of abuse and torture, violence, is this a reader insert? i don't know anymore, but i think so. oneshot, filler, very abrupt ending.

Fire rained from the sky. Ash snowed on once white-sand buildings. Tension permeated the air. Blood irrigated soil.

Eregion was under attack.

Elves screamed in despair, Orcs snarled from outside the city walls, and no matter where you turned, you were trapped in this never ending barrage of violent misfortune. To the best of your ability, you manned the city walls and ordered the citizens of Eregion to find shelter, tunnel out of the city, or pick up arms and fight - fight for their homes, their families, their lives.

It was nearly a natural succession of power after dedicating majority of your life to Eregion and Lord Celebrimbor; a common presence, friendly face, such an outstanding ally that few hesitated to take your command. Yet you were met with resistance, some Elves rejecting your orders in favor of this "Annatar, Lord of Gifts," apparently sent from the Valar themselves to aid Celebrimbor in his creative work. They thought he was Lord of Eregion now, and since you were loyal to the previous Lord - who Annatar claimed had lost his ever sharp mind - you were looked upon with the same frown.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do.

You protected your Lord, almost to the extent of your life. Too many had already fallen, you refused to follow; insisting on remaining with Lord Celebrimbor for the duration of his efforts so long as Annatar was in Eregion. The immortal being wasn't keen on the idea, but Celebrimbor was much soothed around you - so, he agreed, on the condition that your Lord finish his work on the Nine Rings.

After escaping before, Annatar thought the best suited idea would be to chain Lord Celebrimbor to his work bench; knowing you did not have the means to break him free and feeling it was a safe move. However, as you witnessed, the will of the Lord of Eregion was by far stronger than that of The Deceiver.

"I cannot!" You begged your Master. "No, you will not ask this of me! The audacity you possess - "

"You must!" Celebrimbor insisted, taking your cheeks in hand to smush your lips in a pucker. "Listen to me - listen! You have always known right from wrong, but now is not a time for rationality, it's a time for action. He mustn't get the Rings, I need you to run with them. Run away - far, far away from here, use the tunnels - "

"I will not abandon you," you snarled, "nor will I abandon this city, not while she still stands!"

"This is bigger than us, bigger than Eregion," Celebrimbor tried to convey his severity, forcing the Rings in your hand - but you were stubborn. For all the traits he loved, he despised your pigheadedness the most - despite admiring it once upon a time. So, he managed to convince you to cut just his thumb off after originally asking you to take the whole hand so the cuff could slide off, but he downgraded to just his digit for the same desired effect.

"Go," you begged him, tears in your eyes as you wrapped his hand with a clean(ish) cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Go, please, before He returns. Do not look back, my Lord."

"Come with me - "

"I'll hold Him off to give you more time. Now, go. Go!"

It wasn't easy, but Celebrimbor left you behind. No sooner had you confirmed his escape did Annatar return; surveying the workshop and you with sinister eyes.

"Where is he?"

"With luck? Far from here. With hope? Even past that," you answered, stood in the middle of the room - looking as if nothing could phase you. All a lie, of course, but Sauron didn't need to know you were close to pissing your pants out of sheer intimidation. "So... You're Him? I have to admit," you gestured at him, "it's a bit of a let down."

"I have many names - "

"Oh, spare me the personal lore all of Middle-earth knows," you snipped, offering a stale look. "You need a new story."

However, Sauron smirked and circled you, taunting, "I know you know where he went. I know you know where the Rings are, too."

"Then have a look in my mind, see for yourself," you smirked back, "go ahead and see that I purposefully did not ask and my Lord did not tell. Go on, if you do not believe me, have a look and know you are wrong - " You were cut off by your own gasp when Sauron's eyes rolled before he brandished a sword to pierce through your foot and into the floor.

"Where. Is. He?" Sauron seethed in your face; hot breath fanning the fly away hairs.

"Away from you," you managed to grit, the sword in too deep to yank free by yourself. "You'll never find them," you laughed without humor when Sauron's anger got the best of him; storming through the workshop, tearing it apart, searching in vain for Nine Rings that were not there. In his anger, you obtained a series of fresh blemishes as he threw anything he could to the sound of your amusement.

Yet any glimmer of hope in your chest was doused, all traces of faith and humor vanishing when guards lead Celebrimbor back into the workshop; discovering the destroyed forge and you, pinned by a bloody foot in the midst. You couldn't move from your place as the guards surrounded Sauron with the intention to apprehend him, yet you saw the threat before anyone else. You begged the guards, your kin, your brethren, to back away, to take your Lord and flee! You begged them to run. You begged them to listen, to hear you!

But it was too late.

Sauron turned your people on one another and had them slaughter each other before disposing of the final guard himself. You screamed at Celebrimbor to run, nearly tearing the blade through bone as you attempted to reach for the man who had taught you your entire life. The man who gave you a chance. The man who built you a home. The man who introduced you to your intended. The man you loved like a father.

But Sauron's grasp extended to all.

Celebrimbor was beaten senseless, the Dark Lord trying to pry information about the Nine from him by any means. Yet your Lord did not budge... And that's when Sauron turned to you. "Please, no! Don't! She doesn't know anything! I swear, please, spare her!" Celebrimbor pleaded when Sauron ripped the sword from your foot before knocking you to your knees; bowstring pulled back, arrow armed and aimed at your calf. "She doesn't know amything!" Celebrimbor screamed as your first tear fell.

"But you do," Sauron narrated, loosing the arrow into your flesh. You tried to subdue your screams, but the immortal took to alternating between shooting you and Celebrimbor with arrows; though his struck lethally, yours struck painfully. To Sauron, you were a plaything; a token to negotiate with, attempting to withdraw information by offering you harm, thinking it was enough to break Celebrimbor.

He was mistaken.

You panted as blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth, wincing as Sauron's boot came down on your knee; smearing his heel into an open wound with you flat on your back. "She... She doesn't know," Celebrimbor tried again. "She is... She's the Lady of Eregion now, and I would not curse her with such a burden as you have me!"

"Oh, a promotion?" Sauron mused, glancing at you - but you saw his underlying desperation.

"Eregion is no more," you whispered, head lulling on the floor to meet Celebrimbor's eyes and smile sadly. Blood lined your teeth. "It would've been the honor of my life should I have been able to defend your city, my Lord."

"Our city."

"How touching," Sauron's eyes rolled.

"She doesn't know," Celebrimbor repeated in anger.

"I know," Sauron nodded, "I looked in her mind. Still, the bond between you is greater - perhaps, you'd be more inclined to share with her?"

"He'd never," you chuckled in delirium, "he'd never sacrifice this world for the likes of you." Another arrow thumped into your shoulder, making you groan as Sauron angrily tossed the bow aside. Fearing your life was soon to be extinguished, you whispered, "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord. I failed you."

"No, do not say such a thing," Celebrimbor insisted, Sauron stalking over you before squatting in front of the Elven smith, "for it is I who failed you..."

Sauron sighed, sounding condescending yet soft as he reached over to stroke Celebrimbor's cheek, "Look what you have done to yourself."

You didn't care for his poisoned words, knowing your time was limited - just like Celebrimbor's. Yet the Dark Lord tried one last tactic: mercy. He promised to end your joint suffering should the location of the Nine be revealed. Your Lord was defiant still. So, Sauron tried gaslighting, and when that didn't work, he begged, "Please."

Still, it did not work and Celebrimbor affirmed his time was ending... So, naturally, after he plucked up a spear, Sauron threatened, "There are ways of keeping you both alive." In Sindarin, he added, "Friend." To the look of horror on Celebrimbor's bloody face, Sauron offered, "Must I show you my mastery of that craft as well?"

"'Craft'?" Your Lord chuckled ruefully. Then he spat, "Your only craft is treachery. So pure, it shall betray the very hand that forges it."

Sauron stepped over your limp, bleeding form too casually, quietly seething, "Your words are empty."

"No," Celebrimbor insisted, sitting himself up slightly. "No, hear me. Hear me!" Your dimming eyes widened as your Lord found his feet, back against the stone pillar he had once slumped against as support. "Shadow of Morgoth! Hear the dying words of Celebrimbor! With only Y/N, Lady of Eregion as witness!" You didn't move, you couldn't... You were defeated, you knew there was no way Sauron would let you leave this tower alive. So, you listened and bore witness for as long as you were capable of doing so. "The Rings of Power shall destroy you. And in the end, I foresee one alone shall prove your," he shouted, "utter ruin!"

"NO!" You screamed when Sauron turned, shouting in anger as he strode over you and stabbed Celebrimbor with his spear. You could only watch in fearful disgust as the Dark Lord, still in fair form, hoisted the Lord of Eregion up the stone pillar as if a flag on a pole.

Celebrimbor was in obvious pain, mouth agape, blood dribbling from his slathered lips. Sauron's words were still heard despite the low, quiet register, "You're wrong. I am their Creator." He growled, "I am their Master!"

"No," Celebrimbor's head shook as if pitying the immortal. "You are their... Prisoner. Sauron, Lord..." He trailed as his life's light was snuffed, "of the Rings."

You let your grief manifest in tears, watching as Celebrimbor's eyes found yours - conveying his goodbye as he mouthed one last apology... Then deflating as his soul, as promised, vacated this form to return to the shores. You didn't voice your note of Sauron's single tear, just staring at your Lord in disbelief - until the Dark Lord planted the end of his spear to the ground, staking Celebrimbor above all.

"N-No, no, wait!" You begged, trying to turn over onto your stomach to pull yourself across the ground. "No, please, please, take him down - get him down from there! Please, do not - do not leave him up there!" You cried out as arrow shafts were irritated back to life, reaching blindly - helplessly - upward as if you could reach the Lord of Eregion from his hoist.

Sauron watched you for a moment, the Orcs heard marching up the tower. With a swift swing of his leg, Sauron kicked your jaw - effectively knocking you out and overturning your body to your back; splayed out as if on display... Similar, but not akin, to Celebrimbor - whose pooling blood soaked into your gown.

Through your unconsciousness, Sauron eventually ordered Eregion be razed to the ground, every Elf slaughtered, and the Elven leaders be brought before him - unharmed. He gave specific instruction for every scroll in Celebrimbor's workshop to be torched; his way of punishing you for your insolence over supporting and protecting Celebrimbor.

When you awoke, the tower was quiet. You stiffly lifted your hand to your jaw; rubbing it tenderly, letting your sight refocus and being acutely aware of every feeling in your body.

"Fuuuuuuuck," you whimpered, trying to sit up but being unable due to protruding arrows. You went limp again, feeling a single twinge of anger you had to wake up because your eyes caught sight of and stared at Celebrimbor.

You failed...

You gasped shrilly when hands seized your upper arms and heaved; lugging you over the shoulders of two Orcs as a third swiped at the arrows to break them in the most painful way possible. Considering their brutish nature, you would've thought they'd have lopped your head off and moved along - but instead, they began carrying you towards the door.

"Wha-What's happening?" You asked through a slur, feet dragging under you, spying one of the Orcs gathering scrolls and tomes you spent your life writing alongside Celebrimbor in their dirty arms. "Wait - wait - what're you doing? What're you doing!?"

"Quiet!" An Orc snarled, dropping the hilt of his dagger to the soft part of the base of your head where it connected to your neck. You were silent out of sheer pain.

Down the tower you were drug, brought into the devastated courtyard where Orcs snarled at you from all sides; the two that carried you dropping you on your shattered knees. You were held at knifepoint as Orcs streamed from the tower and dropped your scrolls and tomes in several different piles a short distance away. Head injury caused your sight to blur in and out, but you knew what they were doing... What they intended.

"Please, please, don't do this," you whimpered, hearing several Orcs laugh. "No... No, no, no, no, please! Don't - " You had no more fight as collectively, your records were so extensive that several piles were made, few set ablaze.

All around you, Elves were slaughtered mercilessly, bodies left behind where they fell; the sounds of the city dying with them as the Orcs ran out of the innocent lives to claim. You could only watch. Before you, the Orcs tossed banded lassos around the decorated statue of Faenor, evident their desecration knew no bounds.

Yet hope sparked... The blade at your neck tightening when you perked up upon seeing several Orcs leading few saved Elves into the courtyard - your fiancé one of them.

"Elrond!" You cried, the Orc snarling a hiss as the hand in your hair yanked back. You struggled to the point of blood draw when Elrond's sight casted on you - trying to escape his captors, but being held back.

"Y/N!" He called back, the High King Gil-galad at his side and finding you amongst the rubble, too. The King muttered something you couldn't hear, but to Elrond, he understood the Sindarin word: wait.

"Hey!" You snapped, blade drawing a line of blood from your neck; pressure mounting as he pressed closer. You growled in annoyance.

Faenor toppled to the ground, shattering the heart of any Elf left to witness - Orcs mounting him, ravaging for hidden and seen treasures. With Gil-galad, Elrond, and other survivors, the Orcs moved inward as if to ensure the Elves had a front row viewing to the incineration of their culture.

"Y/N," Gil-galad called to attention, earning several snarls and hisses, "where is Lord Celebrimbor?"

"Dead," you whimpered, Orc growling at you in reprimand.

Elrond's eyes swept over the scene and swiftly understood the impending doom. The largest of the scroll piles was before the Elves now, an Orc pacing around it with his torch alight, tears down your cheeks as you couldn't look away as if in a trance you did not realize.

"No, Uruk! No!" Elrond begged when the Orc went to drop the flame; you struggling against your captor, both hands around his meaty wrist.

"No!" Gil-galad's beg echoed around you.

"That is the full record of Celebrimbor's works," Elrond tried to make the Orcs understand potential ramifications. "The wisdom of all who ever dwelt in this place, all accounted by the Lady Y/N, whose work cannot be found outside Eregion! Its value is beyond jewels or even blood! Take our lives," Elrond gestured to himself and the King, you struggling again on horridly abused knees, "but leave it be, I beg you."

Perhaps you were far too used to people listening when your fiancé spoke because you eagerly sat forward best you could while thinking perhaps the Orcs would listen to Elrond. Imagine your acute and heavy despair when the Orc laughed manically and turned to shove the torch into the bundle of fragile parchment. "NO!" You sobbed uselessly, watching the last of your life's work go up in flame.

You fought against the Orc's grip as Gil-galad snarled, "Cowardly traitors!"

"You fucking bastards!" Your head reared back to (painfully - nobody wins with a headbutt) break the Orc's nose. He released you as other Orcs were wrestling Gil-galad to the ground, able to pick up a blade and take out three too-close enemies.

It was the first time Elrond heard such language fall from your lips, but all he could register was the Orc punching you in the jaw in an attempt to subdue you - blood spitting to the side, seemingly darkening a bruise already blooming. He's never felt such rage.

Elrond fought with his bare hands; elbowing the Orcs behind him, punching the ones before him, fighting to get closer to you. He got ahold of a torch, screaming in white-hot anger as he set the Orc that hit you ablaze; dropping the torch and taking you into his embrace.

"My love," he breathed in your ear, able to peck your cheek just as the snarling Orcs forcefully ripped you out of his arms. "No, no!" He tried to reach out for you, but both were wrangled in.

"Please, don't! NO! No, no, no!" You gasped when Elrond was taken in custody, yet it wasn't you who saved him.

Another Orc reminded, "No! Lord Sauron wanted their leaders unharmed."

"Well, what about her? She looks injured," A different Orc growled, jostling your shoulder and pointing his dagger at your throat. Elrond was forced to his knees as you were, facing one another.

"Lord Sauron did that, said to discipline her should she resist," the Orc answered in a hiss, others shoving more Elves into the courtyard - including Arondir from the battlefield. A blade was held to Elrond's throat as your head bowed in the heat of the bonfire; being ripped up by your hair and forced to turn to watch the flames. The Orcs noticed the pair of you seemingly cared more about the literature than your lives, so, they thought you should relish in this moment.

So Elrond was held in a similar position, but his sight was on you; watching you crumple into despair while more Orcs tossed the last of the scrolls into the flames. Your life, since a youthful student, had been spent intermittently in Eregion under the care of Lord Celebrimbor, whom you thought of as an adoptive father, learning heraldry. He let you work at his side, keeping accurate, detailed record of his philosophies, ideas, processes, and creations for the histories. Yet, now, they wafted into the air as ash - lost to this Age, never to be recovered or duplicated or seen again.

Once more, you dropped your head, earning a backhand to the temple. Gritting your teeth, you let the Orc force your head up but shut your eyes tightly, defiantly; hearing their breathing turn ragged. "Cut her eyelids open!" An Orc barked.

"That's not what Lord Sauron said," another seethed with refusal.

"She's resisting!"

An Orc scoffed and stabbed your thigh with a dagger, eyes flying open as you gasped in pain. "There! See!" It laughed, holding you in a chokehold as tears leaked down your cheeks. Elrond struggled and shuddered against his captors, hating the sight of you dismantling yourself emotionally, but to witness your abuse, he hated more.

Then, from a short distance, a horn bellowed.

"Dwarves!" King Gil-galad identified, the Elves rejuvenated by the surprise (and delayed) arrival of aid. In tandem, they began to resist; yourself included by ripping the dagger from your thigh and driving it into your captor's ribs; praying flesh came too when the blade was ripped free.

He grunted and shoved you forward onto your chest and hands, able to flop over to watch your approaching demise - only to discover Elrond surging up to the Orc and snapping its neck with his bare hands.

"Elrond!" You gasped when the Orc fell to the side... Dead.

"C'mere," the half-Elf you intended to marry panted, reaching down to yank you onto your bloody feet; catching you on his chest when your weight buckled. "I got you, I've got you, love, you're safe," he whispered, hoisting you into his embrace before turning for the stream of Dwarves. "Durin!" He greeted jovially.

But when the Dwarf turned, it wasn't the ginger prince Elrond knew like a brother. The dark haired Dwarf heaved a sigh, informing, "The Prince... Is in mourning," before rushing off into the fray.

"'Mourning'?" You repeated in a daze. "Over Disa?"

"His father, perhaps?" Elrond guessed, tightening his arms to lift you and turn away from an Orc rushing forward. He blocked the enemy's advance, trying to keep secure hold of you - leaving an opportunity for you to use the last of your strength to drive your dagger (still in hand) into the Orc's throat. "Good girl," Elrond praised as the creature fell, panting from exhaustion. "Can you still fight?"

"I can barely stand on my own, Elrond," you whimpered, gripping his neck and shoulders in a vice grip to remain upright.

He nodded, "Right." With a sniffle, he lifted you again and rushed for an alcove, depositing you in rubble before caressing your face. "How bad?" He asked softly.

"Enough."

"Let me see - "

"Elrond, there's no time," you snatched his hands when he attempted to reach for your skirt, "the city is under attack, it's falling to Sauron - you need to help them. Go, go fight."

"I won't leave you."

Your ears rang with the same words you told Celebrimbor.

"You have to, this is bigger than any of us," you repeated what you'd been told.

"Elrond!" Gil-galad was heard calling, Arondir appearing in the mouth of the alcove.

"Over here!"

When the High King arrived, he paused to take in the sight of the pair of you. "Good," he panted, "you're both alive. The Dwarves are aiding our escape, we must leave now... The city is fallen," he directed at you.

"You should all go," you sniffled.

With confusion, Elrond snapped, "Without you?"

"I've business to see to in the tower."

"The tower will fall," Arondir explained, slowly lowering to a squat to put himself on your level. "Whatever you think is left is lost, my Lady."

"Celebrimbor's in there. I was taken before I could get him down."

"'Down'?" Gil-galad repeated, "What does that mean?"

Tears filled your eyes, telling the trio what Sauron did to you and your Lord; the King insisting hope was lost and it was time to go. "I cannot walk," you whispered, shaking your head, "and my injuries surpass - "

"I will carry you," Elrond rushed, holding your cheek gently, "I will not leave you behind."

"No... She will walk," Gil-galad stepped forward, revealing his Ring of Power, Vilya. You were unsure what his intention, but Elrond moved behind you to let you lean back into his chest as the King chanted his prayers.

Yet you passed out before fully healed.

"My King - "

"She's alive," Gil-galad soothed Elrond, the hand hosting Vilya laid to your forehead, "just exhausted. She's been through much, far more than I care to fathom. Sauron took it easy on her, he used mortal weapons against her."

"He didn't intend to kill her?" Arondir questioned.

"He needed her alive - whatever the reason," Gil-galad frowned.

"Will she wake?" Elrond worried.

"I have faith she will, trust in the Valar," the King nodded. "Now, if you intend to fight another day, we must go. Now."

And so, the Lady of Eregion was smuggled out of the smoking city in the arms of the Elf she loved, leaving behind all she knew and created. By the Third Age, at least one scroll written by her hand could be found in every library of Middle-earth; and in the Great Library Elrond built for her, detailed accounts of Lord Celebrimbor's work as recalled and honored by his adopted daughter, future Lady of Imladris.

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

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okaysonny · 2 months ago

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Gun relationship hcs Pls!! I love ur fics smmm!!!😋😋

dating headcanons ╏ gun park

a/n: ptj is in a throuple with gun and his wife so you're better off asking him :/ but tysm anon! ❤️ here's my take (^_-)

✦ i won't sugar coat...you have to be good looking loool. appearances are important to him.

✦ No ambition. No determination. No will. No money. In short, losers.

yes, i think this also applies to what he likes romantically! maybe not the money bit, but he finds tenacity + aspiration attractive traits. gun finds it hella lame if you have no goal or purpose in life.

✦ independencey + competency is also very important to him. gun's days are hectic and dangerous...he doesn’t really want to spend time coddling you 😖 leaves you to your own devices (for the most part) because he knows you can look after yourself.

✦ nonchalant gimmick to the MAX with this one. i think with guarded characters like samuel, johan, xiaolung etc, you can manage to make them flustered. gun? no. do something bold/sensual and the most he'll give is one of those amused smirks 😭

✦ idk the best way to phrase this without making you seem like a tool...but because of the environment he grew up in, gun views (committed) relationships like an obligation. it's something he thinks about when he wants to settle down. so if you're dating gun, you're dating to marry.

✦ probably wants kids to continue the bloodline, but again, this is really out of (what he thinks are) obligations, because he's not fond of them 😅

✦ gun's love languages: receiving gifts + quality time.

on receiving gifts: he's rich so that #lavish lifestyle is to be expected 😇 idk if gun is the type to let you go wild on his credit card, but he gives expensive gifts, because he thinks it's a good way to show affection without saying it.

on quality time: remember when he saw him wood carving while listening to music? surprised me very much! i did not think he'd be into that 😭

i'm taking this detail and headcanoning that he enjoys tranquil hobbies in general (pottery and gardening? 🤔) to unwind from all the chaos. and these are only things he does by himself!

at a certain point in your relationship, gun invites you to join him. just silence as he hands you a knife and a block of wood. it's actually boring as fuck, like watching paint dry boring. but he wants to spend time with you!!! he's turning his 'me' time into 'me + you' time. you're terrible at wood carving, but gun doesn't mind teaching you.

✦ a cute little scenario: you're super sick and gun makes a japanese flu remedy for you. it tastes like ass ❤️

but again, this is his way of saying he cares. why would you ruin the moment ?

✦ he likes receiving: words of affirmation + acts of service.

✦ so yes, i think gun very much shows his affection though actions. he gives you his umbrella when it's raining 😆

"why don't we just share it?" gun: 😮

✦ if you want this man...please reconsider he is very weird and goo is a better bf.

✦ eventually, gun finds your relationship doesn't feel like an obligation anymore. it's his volition. 𖹭

divider: @plutism

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism comic #lookism fanfiction #lookism fanfic #lookism fic #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism x reader #lookism x you #lookism imagines #gun park #park jonggun #lookism gun #gun lookism #lookism gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader

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pixiexdusts-world · 2 months ago

Text

Undercover feelings

Hwang Jun-ho x chubby!reader

Summary: Jun-ho drops hints for months, but you’re oblivious. Frustrated, he finally confesses—only to learn you would’ve said yes all along.

Word count: 1233

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Hwang Jun-ho wasn’t a man of many words. As a detective, he relied on sharp instincts, subtle observations, and knowing when to stay quiet. But when it came to you, all of that skill and expertise seemed to vanish into thin air.

You worked at the station’s records department, tucked away in an office lined with dusty filing cabinets and stacks of forgotten paperwork. Jun-ho had been finding every possible excuse to visit you lately, even if it meant pretending to need case files that he already had access to.

“Hey,” he greeted as he leaned against the counter, watching as you sorted through a pile of reports. His eyes briefly flickered to the way your sweater hugged your soft curves, how the fabric stretched just slightly over your chest before draping comfortably over your stomach. He always thought you looked cozy, like someone he could pull into his arms and never want to let go of.

You glanced up, offering him a polite smile before returning to your work. “Need something?”

“Yeah, a reason to keep coming back here,” he said smoothly, eyes scanning your round cheeks, always slightly flushed, and the way your lips pursed in concentration.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

“I, uh—I mean, I need the old case files on illegal gambling rings,” he backtracked quickly, clearing his throat.

You nodded and turned to rummage through the cabinet, your hips swaying slightly as you moved. Jun-ho exhaled sharply, looking away before his thoughts drifted too far. He wasn’t sure why he expected you to catch on.

Every time he tried to hint at his feelings, you somehow missed it.

Like the time he casually mentioned liking people with “kind eyes, soft smiles, and someone warm to hold.” He’d looked directly at you when he said it, but you had just nodded and replied, “Yeah, those are good traits to have.”

Or the time he threw his jacket over your shoulders on a cold night, secretly loving how the oversized material only made you look smaller and softer. But instead of seeing it as anything romantic, you had just patted his arm and said, “Thanks, Jun-ho! You’re like my personal heater.”

He wanted to be more than your heater. He wanted to hold you, squeeze your plush waist, rest his head on your shoulder after a long day, and feel the warmth of you against him.

But you? Absolutely oblivious.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A week later, he finally decided enough was enough.

It was raining when he arrived at your apartment building, holding a takeout bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

When you opened the door, he took a moment to admire how cute you looked in your pajama shorts and oversized hoodie. The sleeves were too long, covering most of your hands, and the way the hem rested against your thighs made his fingers twitch.

“Jun-ho?” you said, blinking at him.

“You didn’t eat yet, right?” He held up the bag. “Figured I’d bring dinner.”

Your eyes lit up, and his chest warmed. “That’s nice of you. I was just about to make instant noodles.”

He stepped inside, following you to the kitchen. As you reached up to grab some plates, your hoodie lifted slightly, exposing the soft curve of your belly. Jun-ho’s gaze lingered, but he quickly looked away before you could catch him staring.

“So,” he started, “you ever think about dating?”

You set down a glass of water. “Of course.”

He leaned forward slightly. “And?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell if someone’s interested in me.”

Jun-ho almost choked. “You don’t say.”

“Yeah. I mean, no one’s ever really asked me out directly, so I just assume no one sees me that way.”

He stared at you. “No one? Not even… hypothetically, a detective who comes by your office every day for no reason?”

You frowned, thinking. “Well, that would be odd, right? Unless he had a thing for old case files.”

Jun-ho dropped his head onto the table with a groan. “Unbelievable.”

You tilted your head. “Are you okay?”

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze. “I’m trying to tell you something, and you’re making it really difficult.”

You blinked at him, then suddenly straightened. “Wait… Jun-ho, are you—”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “Yes, I like you. I’ve been dropping hints for months. I’ve been bringing you food, making excuses to see you, offering you my jacket—hell, I even told you I was free all weekend! You’re impossible.”

Your eyes widened, mouth slightly open. “Oh.”

“Oh?” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s all you have to say?”

You looked down at your lap, cheeks warming. “I… I didn’t think someone like you would…”

Jun-ho’s expression softened. “Someone like me?”

“You’re—you know.” You gestured vaguely. “Cool. Serious. Handsome. I didn’t think I’d be your type.”

Jun-ho stared at you before shaking his head. “You really don’t see yourself clearly, do you?”

You fidgeted with your sleeve. “I just didn’t want to assume.”

“Well, assume,” he said, voice firm. “Because I like you, and I’m asking you out. Officially.”

Your heart did a weird little flip. “Oh.”

A slow smile crept onto your face. “Okay.”

Jun-ho exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath this whole time. “Finally.”

You laughed. “You really have been trying, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” you said, reaching for his hand, “I would’ve said yes a long time ago.”

Jun-ho let out a short, incredulous laugh before squeezing your hand. “Better late than never.”

#hwang jun ho x you #hwang jun ho x y/n #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho #squid game hwang jun ho #jun ho squid game #jun ho x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game season 1 #squid game season 2 #squid game

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morverenmaybewrites · 5 months ago

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What traits are they attracted to for jason n pg please💖 :0

What traits are they attracted to? | Jason Todd x Reader

I think if someone were to ask this of Jason—maybe Dick in a thoughtless fit during a particularly boring stakeout, Jason would reply with a scowl and an embarrassed shrug. He wouldn’t bother to answer and let the silence lapse into something uncomfortable.

After all, he’ll think to himself—what would be the point in answering?

He’s legally dead in Gotham City, a vigilante with a bounty on his head.

It’s not exactly like he’s spoiled for choice in the dating realm.

And—adds a nasty little voice in the back of his head, one that sounds eerily like the Joker (even dead he haunts Jason like a ghost)—there’s the scars.

His torture under Joker’s hands had left him his body a patchwork of scars and knotted flesh. And each one of them tells a story: the splash marks on his back where the Joker slowly dripped acid on him, watching it eat away at the flesh and boil the fat. The ring of thickened skin around his throat, where he had once (once?) been strangled with piano wire.

And then

(And then—)

There’s the brand.

He’s seen how people react to it—even in a place in Gotham City, brands are not something one sees often. It speaks of an intimacy to violence that even Gothamites are uncomfortable with.

His face is something that makes people look away. The quick, almost imperceptible widening of their eyes, then the averted gaze.

As if he were something hideous

(He is hideous.)

The voice again, snide and burning in acidic, like the slow drip of chemicals on his back, blackening the skin and boiling the fat.

(And he so hungry, that he feels his stomach rumble at the smell of his own burning flesh. There is a certain kind of humiliation in that, an animal kind of shame: the knowledge that, if given the choice, he would have eaten his own flesh just to ease the ache in belly.)

The question echoes in his head, and it sounds uncomfortably like laughter: Who would ever want him?

So when asked—what traits does he find attractive?—he doesn’t answer. He bites his tongue, he pretends he doesn’t care. But in reality, he just doesn’t see the point.

After all, what is the point of answering, when no one else would find him attractive?

Jason has his work, his missions, and his purpose as a vigilante.

He has more than he ever had as a street rat in East End, palms cracked and bleeding as he sorts through yesterday’s trash to maybe find something that will ease the gnaw of hunger in his belly.

(The smell of his own burning flesh.)

He has a safe house, something to keep the rain off his head and to keep him warm during the winter. He has a gun to protect himself.

He has a purpose.

Except.

(Except.)

God help him, he wants more.

There is a hunger to Jason Todd that he is afraid that he will never be quite able to fill.

It is an orphan’s hunger, shared with every abandoned street rat that ever lived in the gutters of East End.

It is a hunger for a roof over one’s head, one that is not made of rotten plywood and stained tarpaulin. A gnawing ache in their belly for a meal that does not have to be fought for at every turn.

A longing for a home, a place to belong.

God help him, he wants to be held dear.

He wants a roof over his head that is not just made of four walls, a place, however safe, that is only ever somewhere to lay his head on for the night.

He wants a meal that isn’t fought for or eaten absentmindedly for nourishment during long stakeouts.

He wants someplace to come home to, somewhere warm to keep out the cold. He wants warm coffee on cold mornings and soft music playing on an old speaker, and he wants someone’s smile when he talks about his favorite book.

God help him, he wants you.

(And yet, and yet.)

Who would ever want him?

So when asked, he does not answer. He replies with a scowl and an embarassed shrug, and he’ll let the silence lapse into something uncomfortable.

After all, what would be the point in answering when no one else would ever find him attractive?

#ask #anon #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #ask game #i got a little mean with this i’m sorry HA #have this little image in my head where once jason starts healing he gets a new place for himself #asks the reader for help redecorating #HMMM might have to write that down

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idanceuntilidie · 10 months ago

Note

Huloo, just read Yandere cheater and it was hook line sinker for me, do you still do request? If so can you do a Yan! cheater but the reader is like one of those cold stone face to others but warm to their friends and family but especially soft towards someone they really like? (In this case the cheater). Im curious about your take 😭. Scenario would basically be the same same I guess, like Yan! Cheater jumped to conclusion and, being an idiot, decide revenge cheat is the solulu to his delulu thoughts.

(If your requests are closed, please ignore this, Id be embarrassed)

I would have finished this way earlier today, slowly back to posting I hope yall are proud of me Warning: non con touching * blood * mentions of rotting meat and killing people * yandere themes ofc

yan cheater x gn reader

„SMILE FOR ME ALRIGHT?”

“I like when you smile, you look really cute when you do” “Haha aren’t you a charmer?” “Listen, I am serious! Your smile is special, not many can see it bunny.” “I love you” “I love you too.” Your face doesn’t reflect on how you are feeling, unless it is someone that you actually care about. It is only natural that people can’t tell what you are feeling, and that comes with its pros and cons.

People won’t know if they hurt you. Ciaran was pretty, but underneath all of that hid a disgusting freak. Too bad you have learned that when you saw the man you love kiss someone else. You remember he kissed you with such passion not even a few hours later. You hate to admit, he looks pretty even now. Standing at your doorstep, red hair clinging to his face. Make up slightly smeared because of the water. Ciaran looked beautiful, even if messy and wet. It made your blood boil. You wanted to rip his hair out, punch him and then curl into a ball and cry your eyes out. Instead you kept leaning against the door frame, the scent of rain calming you down. You didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t to you. He knew that you found out, and you knew his only regret right now was that he didn’t hide well enough.

The more you look at him, the more sick you feel. You waited for him to come back though, so you could spit on his face and throw him out of your apartment. You didn’t even bother with a suitcase, a trash bag fitted his personality more. “I have nothing to say to you Ciaran, take your shit and get lost.” Your voice was cold, monotonous but it made him shudder. You threw the bag into the closest puddle and finally slammed the door in his fucking face. There was something about you, Ciaran couldn’t put his finger on it. He doesn’t know why you are so attractive to him. Your eyes are cold, dead just like your expression that you wear. It’s like making eye contact with a corpse. Despite your very dead expression, you are quite attractive. Beautiful. It made his heart flutter, so it was only natural that he tried to get close to you. With time he got to see more of you, your little traits. Likes and dislikes. What you listen to, and what you eat.

The best part was when your stoic expression was replaced with a smile. He lived for those moments, but then it got boring. Can you even blame him? It all felt lukewarm. He needed that excitement back, and you couldn’t give him that. That is, he thought you couldn’t. But he was wrong. Ciaran wouldn’t admit it of course, it would hurt his pride. He was too proud, and you were just difficult and used.

He couldn’t admit that after just a week his body ached for your touch, scent. He wanted to see you smile again, hear you speak, touch you.

Every single time he tried to crawl back to you, you welcomed him with an ice cold stare and blank face. After God knows how many times he appeared in front of your house, you didn’t even bother opening the door and soon enough you moved away.

How could you? Leaving him wailing in the dirt in front of the place both of you called home. You are so cruel, didn’t you say people deserve a second chance?

Maybe he just needed to try harder.

The house breathed with you, calm and unbothered. The air felt heavy still and moist, in other words it stank in here quite badly. Slightly rotten food with the mix of your sweat made you gag. You laid still in your bed, eyes tired, achy and dry from the lack of sleep. You feel like you are going to suffocate in here. You listen to the melody of the forest surrounding your house, the gentle sway of the trees and cicadas. It’s dark, why were you up again? Your eyes start to wander around the room trying to adjust to the soft light of the moon. It’s dark, you see your furniture and that pile of clothes that looks a lot like a human now that you stare at it.

You turn on the light, it blinds you and you close your eyes and hiss in pain. When you open them again you see the same pile of dirty clothes. It looks normal, like a pile of unwashed clothes would. You thought it was.. nevermind, brain tends to imagine weird shapes when you can’t see shit. That’s what it was, you sigh as you get up. The air feels stuffy.

If it wasn’t for the crippling anxiety you would open the window, you can’t see outside but it can see you. That makes you worry.

You dragged your heavy feet to the kitchen to grab something to eat even though there is not much you can choose from. You need to go shopping. Your stomach recoils at that thought. Ciaran just waits for you to leave. He is probably not very happy that you have ignored him as much as you did. His gifts lay unopened at your front door, slowly piling up. The sweet scent of rotting meat emitting from them. Just thinking about it makes you weak in the stomach. The kitchen is dark, after the bedroom incident you didn’t bother even turning on the light. Your poor eyes. Your shaky hands search for the least dirty cup so you can at least drink some water.

After your break up, Ciaran hasn’t left you alone. Blocking him didn’t help, the police didn’t help. He made sure you were alone, with no one to help you. Your ex successfully tracked you every single time, that's why you are stuck at home. Looking and smelling like shit. It has been a week without him trying to contact you but you aren’t sure he finally moved on. You will sneak out of the house, leave everything and just escape this madness. You will be free. There is a warm breath on your neck.

The glass shattered against the wooden floor. “Did you miss me?” he rasped out. He smelled like forest. His voice goes through your ears, making them ring. You didn’t respond, praying that your brain is imagining things. It surely is, he imagines how he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his hands slowly wander around your body.

You feel weak in your knees, hands gripping the sink in an attempt to get some stability. Ciarans cold hands painfully dig into your stomach. You feel like you are going to puke.

Then everything stops. You turn around and you are greeted with the sight of your kitchen. No Ciaran.

You raise your shirt, no marks.

You were going crazy or the lack of sleep is really getting into you. Forget the water or food, you are going to sleep. Ciaran is not here, you are safe and you need sleep. Badly. The floorboards creak against your weight, the trip to your room. It’s like being like a kid again, and you feel like someone is chasing you so you run up to your room to turn the light on and scare the evil away. The thought of it makes you chuckle. Something feels wrong though, you look at your front door. It’s open.

Fuck the sneaking, you are ready to run to your room when someone grabs you. Their hands are sticky, warm. The metallic and sweet rotting smell fills the room. “Bunny, bunny calm down. It’s okay, I am here finally.” “Ciaran, Ciaran please…” you choke out as he squeezes your frail body. “Ahh how I missed that voice of yours.” he moaned into your ear and hugged you tighter. You want to cry, you want to throw up but you can’t give him the satisfaction of that. You can show him any basic human emotion, that’s what he wants.

He kissed your neck, nipping at some places. Like he used to, when you two were together.

“You missed me too, right bunny? you missed my voice?” “Ciaran leave my house.” “But baby why? We are finally together again.” He let go of you. Your body ached, head pounding and all of your senses screaming to run.

“Aren’t you happy? Please bunny, smile for me like you used to.” His hands grabbed your face, fingers jamming into your mouth forcing it to open. It hurts, you can taste the blood coating his hands. He forces you to smile and you stop yourself from actually throwing up. Your thoughts are muddy, body weak. You claw at his hands but he grips you together. Nails digging into your gums, you gag. Ciaran beams at you, happy. Smiling widely, just like he used to.

“Now, was that so hard?” he hums.

You try to protest, but you are unable to speak. You are so tired, so weak. He took notice of that. Kissing your forehead.

“Oh my poor baby, you are exhausted waiting for me right? Don’t worry, I will help you.”

The last thing you remember is pain, the amazement on how strong his head is and a small thought that no matter how far you run. Your loving ex will find you.

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inkdrinkerworld · 11 months ago

Note

You're little corner of the world seems so cozy! I love your background pic 🫶��

If you wouldn't mind, could you write a polymarauders story with an autistic female reader? Where she shows autistic traits but doesn't realize what she's doing until Remus asks her about her autism and she's like "what"? Symptoms shown are stimming and going nonverbal whilst watching a movie at home with the boys.

Thanks love!

You’re wringing your hands to all hell as the movie plays on the tv screen. Your boyfriends had wanted to watch an action horror and while you weren’t opposed to horror, this one had your heart racing.

Remus is in the kitchen getting you more kettle corn, James is laying on the loveseat waiting for his return and Sirius’ head is in your lap.

You’re all a picture of cosiness, the rain outside beating down on the roof while you’ve all opted for long sleeved sweaters and fluffy blankets across your laps. Still, the comfort of both the weight of Sirius, James near you and your blankets isn’t enough to help you not twist and pull at your fingers.

“Doing alright, doll?” Sirius asks, turning in your lap so he can look at you. His question isn’t loud enough to pull James from the macabre scenes on the tv; at least not yet.

“Mhm,” Sirius’ eyes narrow as you push the joint of your thumb.

“Need me to find something else for us to watch?” That would honestly be ideal, but you’ve all been wanting to watch this for weeks.

“No, I think it just needs to get past this part and I’ll be okay.”

Remus comes back just as Sirius sits up, changing his position so you’re laying in his lap instead.

“Everything okay?” James asks as Remus keeps hold of the popcorn bowl.

“Fine, think she’s just overstimulated with the scenes right now.” Sirius says softly, not wanting you to feel bad but also not wanting to hide anything from your boyfriends.

You’re not upset by it; though you do wish James wouldn’t look at you in as much horror as he is now.

James is ready to flick off the tv and find something else for you to look at when you shake your head.

“S’okay Jamie, I’ll be better once this is over.” You sound less sure than you’d like to. James pauses the movie anyhow.

Remus sets the kettle corn down and kneels in front of you, holding onto your ankle.

“Dovey,” his voice quiet but not one you can lie to. It’s hard to lie to any of them, but Remus is even harder to lie to. “If you need us to change the movie it’s no biggie. We can watch it another day.”

You’re thankful Remus doesn’t say ‘on a better day,’ today hasn’t been bad, this was just a sudden shift.

You hold his eyes, Sirius stroking your cheek as James stands, not able to bear the fact that he’s the only one with his hands off you.

“Can we look at something else?” James breathes a relieved sigh, looking through your favourite set of movies.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, not wanting to look at any of them in their eyes. There’s a little bubble of shame, that you can’t sit still for a two hour movie because your mind is whirring and overstimulated.

“Stop it, baby.” James says, opening his arms to you and you rush over. James lets you tuck your head under his chin, his big arms holding you close to him as you relax. Sirius and Remus cuddle up next to the two of you, not even minding that you all hardly fit on the loveseat.

“Legally Blonde okay, poppet?” you nod, stretching to kiss all your boyfriends on their head, cuddling right up between them as Elle Woods braves your screen.

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lieslab · 5 days ago

Text

And I heard about the twister that lives inside your heart

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Felix X gn reader

Summary: You breakup with your boyfriend, unable to cope with your rapidly declining terminal illness, but he refuses to let you fight alone.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 8k

Trigger warning: Terminal illness, stages of grief, hospice care, descriptions of the body shutting down and death.

A/N: This has torn my heart to shreds. If that's me, I can't imagine what you'll experience. Terminal illness is horrible and brings unimaginable pain to everyone involved. To the requestee, I hope this is what you were looking for. Please grab your tissues before you start, you'll need them <3

_ _ _

Feelings could be fatal. Felix knew that. You could call it naivety, but he called it love. Felix knew he loved you from the first day he saw you. The way the breeze flew through your hair and cherry blossom petals rained down behind you.

Your eyes scanned the area. You were searching for something and it certainly wasn’t the love of your life. When your eyes caught his, a soft pink flushed your cheeks. His freckled cheeks pushed up into a smile, two dimples appeared, and he gave you a brief wave.

Your own smile grew and you returned his wave. In those few seconds, he threw away the need to rush to the company building. They wouldn’t miss him for a few extra minutes. He introduced himself and you greeted him. Before he knew your name, he knew his heart was yours.

Such a cliche k-drama moment, he talked about meeting you all the time. Whenever he got the chance, he brought it up. Recounting the way the petals drifted towards your body, as if they were magnetized by your being, just as he was. The sunlight reflected in your eyes in a way that made your soul shine.

Some group members scoffed, shoving their fingers in their ears, waving him away, and throwing shots of disapproving groans. Not yet taken captive by their own lovers, they couldn’t stand such a cheesy romance. Other members felt the opposite way. A brightness when Felix’s head perked up. He spoke with his hands, gesturing and pouring out his endearment for you. People didn’t know Felix without knowing you.

Jeongin happened to be one of these members. He listened to Felix’s words about you non-stop. When Felix talked about the dates you went on, he took silent notes. If any member could pull someone and make them the happiest person on earth, it was Felix.

A walking ray of sunlight, hand crafted by Apollo himself. Embedded with charm and charisma. A whimsy childlike wonder coddled his heart and kept him young. Jeongin took note of that, too.

The cheesy pickup lines. The apology gifts for occasionally doing the wrong thing and hurting your feelings. The special presents, not for a specific reason, but just because he could. Because maybe, deep down, the tiny trinket of your favorite animal would look cute on your side of the nightstand.

He purchased you some of the things you talked about. The way your eyes always widened and your smile grew. Sometimes, you never fully pulled the gift from the bag all the way. Instead, you leapt into his arms, covering his face with kisses. Treating him with your very own personalized thank-yous.

Felix tried not to talk about you all the time. He knew things existed outside of you, but you were the love of his life. Life is full of beautiful things and you were one of them. He told the world about you.

From brief conversations with strangers, complimenting their outfits that you shared traits with, to showing you off on his arm at formal events. His heart stitched to yours. Smitten from day one, he thought you’d be his forever.

Jeongin grew used to this idea as well. So when he awoke to Seungmin shaking him and informing him something was wrong with you and Felix, on a starless night, he panicked. He jerked himself upright with tendrils of dark hair sticking up like he’d been zapped with lightning.

He shoved himself into a hoodie and slides. Each footstep that landed closer to Felix and Seungmin’s dorm, it brewed anxiety in his chest. You weren’t just Felix’s significant other, you turned into one of Jeongin’s closest friends. He cared about the two of you immensely.

A soft hand knocked on the outer oakwood of Felix’s bedroom door. “Felix? It’s Innie, please let me in.”

“Go away.” His voice seeped with sadness. “Just leave me alone, please.” A sniffle followed up his plea.

It killed him. The idea of his group mate and one of his brothers tucked alone inside his room, he hated it. He took a step forward, pushed open the door, and slid inside. What he saw caused his heart to drop.

Felix sat up in his bed with his white comforter tucked over his shoulders. His usual honeyed freckles sat red and swollen. Beneath his eyes, tears glistened over the tops of each cheek.

“Felix, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s over, Innie. It’s all over.”

“Huh?”

“They broke up with me over text. I don’t know what I did. They won’t respond to me. They left a long paragraph, stating they were moving away. What did I do, Innie?” His bottom lip quivered and more tears filled his eyes. “What did I do?”

“Lix…” His voice came out softly. He imagined all the things he could have done in a split second. A broken sob fell from Felix’s chest. With squeezed shut eyes, he tucked the blanket tighter to his body; trying to seek out the comfort your warmth could no longer provide.

Behind him, Seungmin stood silently in the doorway. His face fell from the news. The last few days, his brain tuned through the conversations with Felix. No fights. No bitter arguments. From what he remembered, everything had been working out for you two.

Jeongin stepped forward once and then again. He leaned forward, parading into the bed besides Felix’s body. Just as Felix did to him so many times before, he pushed himself closer to the broken man.

Occasionally, even the sun needs to experience the comfort and softness of the sky’s blanketing clouds.

~ ~ ~

On a grassy cliff, you overlooked the beach down below. Above you, seagulls squawked and squalled. They swarmed, desperate for food, but you didn’t have any. Nourishment for your own body was the last thing on your mind, let alone food for the birds.

Silky blue waves pushed white foam against the rocks below. You sent the break up message to Felix and then hit block. Some would call you a coward, but you called it love. Love is always dangerous and this one wasn’t much different.

For a few minutes, you teetered on the edge of the cliff. Not planning to jump, but rather reminding yourself you were human. You could feel the sea spray from up here. The squawks of life from above. The garbles and playful water splashes of the aquatic life below the crashing waves.

You existed somewhere in between at this moment. Somewhere between soaring high above the heads of everyone you loved and slipping beneath the gentle waves of the sea. Soft tendrils of bright green grass wrapped around your ankles. They tethered you to earth, a gentle reminder that you weren’t alone.

Life has a tendency to knock you down when life is going great. Just when you think you might get to soar, you’re a few feet off the ground and you’re dropped again. Another challenge. A new task and what will it result in? Do you manage to accomplish it with pride, or let it drag you off your feet and pin you to the ground?

Life felt that way recently. You and Felix were browsing apartments. Nothing too official yet, but just ideas. It had been the next step of your relationship. Eventually, marriage and a house. A family? You debated, but there wasn’t a solid conclusion. You never strayed from that truth until now.

You loved Felix with your entire heart. When you stayed over at his dorm and awoke to the constellation of freckles, you understood why people loved the stars so much. Patterns and small detailings in between life’s fine print. An entire secret that only few people understood and gained the grasp of.

Throughout history, multiple people found similar patterns in the sky. They recorded them, gave them names, and pulled stories from them. Felix’s freckles made you an astronomer in your own special way. With a single swipe of your thumb against his cheek, you could recall all the memories.

His freckles brightened on the sunnier days. In the winter, they paled. You hated when they were dulled over with makeup. He insisted they were still there, but you forced yourself not to reach up with a licked thumb and rub it away. His makeup artists hid them without a second thought. They erased history.

No matter how hard the next part of your life would be, you had to face it alone. As uncomfortable and unwanted it was, you vowed not to bring him down with you. You couldn’t and you wouldn’t.

You would not let Felix pull off his helmet and lose himself in the deep dark diagnosis of your terminal illness. Your satellites crashed. The spaceship nosedived. You ran on fumes.

Your brain screamed mayday, but your heart chose peace; death with dignity, even if it hurt.

~ ~ ~

Felix used to sleep peacefully at night. Now he jerked upright with shaky breaths. His arms reached out for you, squirming and grabbing in the darkness, he never found you again. The heartstopping realization that it wasn’t just a dream. This was real life and you were gone from his.

You blocked his number.

He showed up at your apartment door banging, but you didn’t appear. The door didn’t swing open. He tried to knock on the windows, doing anything he could to reach you through the white siding and aged bricks. You never heard. You weren’t home.

He moped. His teary face buried into the cold pillow and he screamed. Seungmin’s nights were busted open with the grief of his roommate. The first few times, he rushed into Felix’s room to settle him down.

It stopped the night Felix locked his door. Seungmin grabbed the knob, but it didn’t turn. Inside, his limbs kicked and tangled in the blankets. Sweat caused his t-shirt to stick to his skin. He shrieked, calling out for you, but you never came.

Even in his dreams, you never showed up. If it weren’t for the pictures of you in his phone, he might have assumed he dreamt it all. Your bright eyes and familiar smile. Your hands connected together like puzzle pieces. Where did you go?

He started to take his attention to the night sky. Restless and missing you, he dropped himself in front of his window. Star-filled constellations, the ones you compared his freckles to. What a privilege it was to be seen in nature.

When a glowing white orb swooped across the night sky, he weakly whispered your name. Nothing else mattered besides you. Where did you go? Somewhere beneath the blanket of darkness, you had to be drawn to something, or maybe someone.

Did he do something wrong? It wasn’t cheating. Arguments hadn’t occurred in quite a while. The two of you hated bucking heads and when you did, you were both sure to come to a conclusion, or pause the high-filled emotions to walk away for a break.

“You walked away, but you’ll come back, right? Come back to me, baby.” Moonlight reflected in his teary eyes. He clutched his arms around himself tighter, wishing it was you. “Just… just come back.”

He barely uttered your name before collapsing and burying a sob in his hand, trying not to awaken Seungmin.

~ ~ ~

It took a few days before you agreed to meet with Jeongin, but you didn’t go to his dorm. You couldn’t tell Felix about this. You didn’t want to tell Jeongin, but when he called you in a shaky voice, you knew he was crying. It broke your heart. If this was Jeongin, you couldn’t imagine how Felix must feel.

You texted him the address and waited inside the set of double glass doors. Behind you, a bright pastel yellow soaked the walls. Bright and happy colors to try and pull you away from your impending doom. You tried to stay positive, but gloom haunted these halls.

You sensed it on the first day you moved in. Assigned to a small room with an attached bathroom. A closet to hold clothes, a desk with a single chair, and a TV stand welded into the wall with a flat screen TV.

The lilac bedding mocked you. The sage green walls reminded you of life. All the lush green things you’d leave behind. The simplest things like the scallions topping your scrambled eggs and the color of your favorite body wash.

Those that were more prominent; soft grass beneath your feet, the earthy and warm scent of ozone when rain approached darkened skies, the towering green swaying in the wind when you looked up in the middle of the forest.

The staff tried to make the outdoors exciting. Black metal benches perched around the exterior. In the back, a garden adorned with flowers blossoming in every direction. Ivy grown arches you could walk beneath. Stone bird baths that bright birds dipped their heads in and shimmied their feathers, no matter the weather.

You grew to hate the birds. Their happy warbles, their chirps, and the way they could flutter away from their problems with ease. You wished you could be a bird, it’d be so much easier than this.

When you spotted Jeongin’s car pull into the parking lot and enter a space, you finally pushed open one of the glass doors to approach him. He slowly stepped out of his car, staring at the red-bricked building in shock.

“Why are you-”

“Living in a hospice center? Because I was thinking about pregnancy and bringing another life into this earth.” You weakly chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but Jeongin’s head shook.

“Why are you really here?”

“Because I’m dying, Jeongin.”

His face fell. You stared at him, taking in every small detail. The straight dark brows and half-moon eyes. Your heart would inflate with happiness when you made him laugh so hard, he leaned back and squeezed his eyes shut. As if shutting his eyes would make the humor disappear. Usually, it’d lead into more teasing and taunting. Today, an empty silence blanketed the two of you.

“What?”

“I have a terminal illness.”

“Terminal?”

“I can’t be cured, Jeongin.” You tried to smile and reassure him that you’d be fine, but you couldn’t get the corners of your mouth to lift high enough.

You pulled away from the people you loved because you denied it. Because maybe you couldn’t see their faces, feel their warmth, and go to bed at night, only for your brain to remind you that you’d be gone soon.

Terminal illness cannot be cured. Incurable. Irreversible. A punishment that nobody expects, but humans are doomed to fall victim to it, regardless.

When cancer riddles your body and leaves you broken.

When the brain’s functions decline and your cognitive ability starts to speed downhill like an olympic winter toboggan.

When disease infects a vital organ and tears apart the relationship it has with your body, it starts shutting down.

A variety of different kinds are out there. You just never thought it’d be you. Not at this age. Not at this point in your life. Not now.

You just started to live, but death is greedy. It takes and it takes and it takes. It is never enough. Death will never have enough. Hands soaked with blood and an engorged stomach full of souls and their fading warmth. Today, it looms behind you. Tomorrow, it steps closer.

Anxiety burrows and nausea builds, but we never escape it. There is no leaving this life without the help of death. Whether you deny it, or accept it, you denied it. Death is cruel and you learned it at a young age.

Family dinners grew smaller as it picked out family members. It took pets from the safety of the four walls that you called home. How do you live with the realization that you are meant to die sooner than most?

“You need to tell Lix. He’s broken without you. He’s miserable and-”

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I can’t do that to him and I won’t. He can’t know about this, Jeongin. This will destroy him.”

“It’ll destroy him more if he doesn’t know you’re suffering through this alone.”

“Innie...”

“Please, you-”

“Jeongin!” You snapped as tears burned in your lower lids. “I can’t tell my boyfriend I’m dying! I-I just-” Your bottom lip quivered. “I-I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!”

Sensing you were about to break, he reached out to steady you. That’s when your arms wrapped around him tightly. You sobbed in his arms, terrified of it all. What did you do to deserve this? How do you cope with the anxiety and accept that death is striding towards you without stopping?

Your own body, the thing saving you since birth, it’s not enough to shield your soul. Some higher power, some natural thing, it comes no matter what.

What a curse that your death came before your life could really begin.

~ ~ ~

The hospice center was imprinted on the inside of Jeongin’s eyelids. He couldn’t sleep. The nurses from earlier kept him up. How anyone found comfort by working with the dying, he didn’t know. People shouldn’t have to die, but they did.

Blocks away, you laid on your deathbed and Felix didn’t know. You knew, Jeongin knew, but not Felix. With each breath, the balloon of guilt grew. What if you died without Felix being able to say goodbye? It’d kill him. The guilt would drown him.

In a spur of the moment decision, he shoved off his blankets and pushed them off. He slipped on his slides, grabbed his car keys, and headed outside. On the way out of the dorm he shared with Chan, he dialed Felix’s number.

After midnight, Felix was half asleep at the window. Curled on the floor with a cheek pressed against the window seal, his eyes groggily opened at the sound of a vibration. He sniffled and sat up, swiping at the phone to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Felix?”

“Innie, are you okay? You sound worried. What’s wrong?” He sat up with a yawn. Brushing back his messy hair, he adjusted the phone to his ear when Jeongin blubbered. “What did you say?”

“I need you to come meet me in the driveway with my car in it.”

“Is something wrong?”

“You need to know something.”

“I’m coming.” He rushed into the apartment’s entryway and shoved his feet into his still-tied shoes. Jeongin hung up on him, waiting for his arrival.

He didn’t have to wait long. Felix appeared less than two minutes with his phone still in his hand. “Hey, are you alright?”

Tears pricked at Jeongin’s eyes and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I need to tell you. I called and talked to-”

Felix cut him off and stepped forward. “Really? They answered the phone? Are they okay?”

The words vacuumed from his throat. How do you tell someone you love their significant other is dying? You were back in a bed, surrounded by the fading souls of others, slowly dying. He shook his head frantically and pawed at his eyes with his sweater.

“They’re at a hospice facility. They said it’s a terminal illness, Lix.”

He couldn’t breathe. His dark eyes stayed focused on Jeongin. Through the dark, he reached out and gripped his wrist. “What kind of sick fucking joke are you playing, Jeongin?” He squeezed his wrist tighter, too afraid to face the truth.

“You’re hurting me,” he whispered. He tried to tug away, but Felix squeezed harder. “I can take you there. I’ll take you there right now. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep it a secret. I can’t watch you suffer. Neither of you. I-I can’t.”

“How long do they have left?”

“The doctors are saying three months at most.”

“What hospice place?”

“The one right by the catholic church on-”

Felix didn’t wait for an answer. He spun around and took off into the darkness of the night. Jeongin called his name, but he didn’t stop. You were dying and he didn’t know. You didn’t break up with him because you hated him, you called it quits because you were dying.

White street lights blurred through his tears. Each one put a spotlight on his silhouette. Cruel higher powers watched in mockery. What happened to God and prayers? What happened to prayers being answered?

He couldn’t breathe. The air in his lungs ran out back in the driveway. It came out in whimpers and pants for air. His throat suffocated. You weren’t meant for the earth to take back. The ground couldn’t hold you like he could. It wasn’t warm enough. You’d never be able to see the sun from six feet below.

Immortalization and praise. Paradise and pleasure. The family he’d never get to start. His legs pushed harder, he ran faster. The wind roared through his hair and he screamed your name in the darkness.

He wanted an outstretched hand. An explanation. A cure. Something to bring you back and keep you alive. He’d give it all up to save you. Whatever organ you needed, you could have his. He’d die if it meant you could stay alive. Anything you needed, he’d give it. He’d give his everything to keep you safe.

The heavy thumps of his heart, the ticking time bomb of yours. Every breath he took, another you lost. He ran in your direction, stumbling and screeching your name. You slept soundlessly in a dreamless sleep.

Near the end of the road, the curb caught his ankle. He jerked forward, shoving out his hands to stop himself. The pavement scraped and drew blood. God kicked him in the back, a reminder that not even the bravest and loyalist believers could stop his will from unwinding.

Shaky breaths turned into choked out sobs. A dog with no home. A lover with no life. You were everything to him. What happens when everything is ripped away? When the goals are jerked from the journal before the accomplishments? Your body withered away and yet, you still craved life.

Headlights shone behind him. He dropped to the ground defeated. His fingernails dug into the concrete and a sob escaped his throat. Familiar voices called his name. Chan got there before Jeongin.

He pulled up the younger member and tugged him to his chest tight. Felix uttered your name again, unable to stop the louder sobs. The current of life changed. The tides shifted and pulled you under.

You cannot always save the people you love, especially not in the snarling face of death.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, you awoke to something soft stroking your cheek. You mumbled Jeongin’s name, thinking he somehow stumbled into your room. Instead, you found the familiar eyes of your boyfriend. His lips quivered before they smiled.

“Hi, there.”

“Lix?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m sorry. Jeongin told me everything and I’m not leaving you on your own for this.”

You couldn’t be mad. Maybe, deep down, you told Jeongin because you knew he’d tell Felix. It’d take the pressure off of you. You’d never be able to explain it in full detail without breaking down.

Perhaps, you’d been chasing your tail in denial because now that Felix was here, acceptance slipped between the two of you. A silent, but necessary evil. Neither of you could stop this ending. You’d try to do whatever it took, but people don’t leave hospice alive.

“I should be the one apologizing,” you whispered. “I was selfish.”

“You were scared. This is scary. It’s better to be scared together.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you. I feel like I ruined you. I made you fall in love and now…”

“You could never disappoint me.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I love you and you’re mine.”

“I love you, too.”

“Scoot over. I’m not leaving you here to fight this alone.”

~ ~ ~

You loved one another endlessly and it flowed effortlessly. Your love ended in a doomsday. Your time was limited. Felix took a hiatus, wanting to be there with you through everything.

You refused to let your terminal illness break you. The first two weeks, it almost felt like staying at a hotel, if you took away the staff members coming in to check on you. Felix stayed with you after purchasing an air mattress. He refused to let you be alone.

In the third week, he brought you a notebook and a pen. You stared at it with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this for?”

“I figured you could make a bucket list.”

“But I’m in hospice?”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t dream. I mean, they probably won’t recommend you go skydiving, but there’s other things you can do.”

He leaned forward, gently taking the pen from your hand. He wrote a bullet point and the words ‘fancy dinner.’ You glanced over and chuckled. “Really?”

“What? I’m thinking of something really nice. Whatever you want, just let me know. Steak? Sushi? Korean Barbeque? You just let me know and we’ll go.” He reached over, gently booping the tip of your nose with the pen, and placed it back in your dominant hand.

You glanced down at the empty stripes of notebook paper. A bucket list wasn’t really something you thought much of, especially now that you were in hospice. You bit your lip, wanting to think of something.

“I’ve got it!” You jerked forward, scribbling something out. “That’s what I wanna do.”

Felix’s face softened. “Really? You mean it?”

“A hundred percent. Of course, I mean it. I don’t know how. Not enough time, but I think if we-”

“We’ll figure it out.”

You nodded and your eyes met his. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over and hugging you in a tight hug. A quick kiss to your nose, right where the pen tapped you. Your arms returned the favor. A soft sigh escaped your lips and you relaxed.

You’d be okay dying in his arms like this. ~ ~ ~

Death lingered, but you roared. Using what time you had left, you did it all. In a final trip at the grocery store, you and Felix argued over what flavor of milk was better. Strawberry or chocolate? It lasted nearly the entire shopping trip.

The two of you went back to his dorm. Seungmin went over to bother Changbin and Hyunjin. You’d seen the guys in passing, but you didn’t see them too much. They all grew fond of you. Seeing you now and knowing you’d be gone soon, it was a hard pill to swallow.

“You’re going to burn the vegetables!” You called over your shoulder.

“Hey! No, I’m not!” Felix laughed and stirred the multicolored veggies in the pan. “Shut up and focus on your own dish.”

“Telling a dying person to shut up is crazy work.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! Come ‘er!”

You let him grab your waist and spin you around. A dizziness settled over you. You smiled, regardless. His hands slipped to your hips and he gently squeezed. The fullness of your body melted away the less and less you consumed.

Your fancy dinner turned into a home cooked meal. Not that you were complaining, it beat hospice food. You were due to return there later tonight. Until then, you and Felix were up to your usual antics.

You teased him and he teased you. You playfully bumped into one another, careful enough not to cause accidents. Felix placed you in a kiss the cook apron. Every time he could, he snuck kisses on your bare skin. Not sure how much time you had left, he took advantage of it.

You squeaked and shivered as he pushed another soft kiss into the back of your neck. “You can’t do that! That’s cheating!”

He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. You spun around, reaching out to weakly grip his throat. You started to laugh, but it turned to coughing. The playful energy in the air ceased instantly.

“Easy, easy. I’m sorry.” He pushed your hair back from your face. “Deep breath in and out.” His other hand went to your back, rubbing it to support you. “Do you need some water?”

You nodded, a little embarrassed you ruined the fun. Just when you forgot you were dying, it came back to bite you in the ass. A brutal reminder that each second between the two of you was precious.

He gently squeezed your shoulder before walking away and heading to the cupboard. He grabbed a glass and you forced slow deep breaths. Your body shut down more and more as the days went by.

You could feel it. Your limbs felt heavier. Your body, more sluggish. Your brain became slower. Thoughts were on the tip of your tongue and then disappeared.

When he reappeared with a glass of ice water, he pushed it to your chapped lips. You tipped your head back and slowly sipped. It soothed the aching sides of your throat. For whatever reason, your mouth felt drier; an interior sahara desert that you couldn’t shake.

“Let’s take it easier, yeah?”

You hummed. He pulled the water away and sat it on the counter. You hated to admit it, but the hospice staff were right. They allowed you to venture out with Felix, as long as you were up for it, but warned you that as time went on, you probably wouldn’t have the energy.

All the extra oomph and fun on your bucket list, you had to make adjustments. Hospice staff wanted you checked in at certain times. You were supposed to be an inpatient. You assumed they let you slip out more than usual because you were younger.

Some of the older people were stuck in their beds. Heavy limbs, death rattles, and the faint whirring of oxygen tanks. Death wasn’t a constant thing. Some people had a few weeks and others were like you, they had a few months left.

Regardless, a hospice inpatient center wasn’t a good place for a rowdy couple still head-over-heels in love. You wanted to run. They lectured you. When you laughed too hard at something Felix said while a nurse checked on you, she shot the two of you an unamused glare.

Not because she was mean, but because she grew worried. All the laughing and screwing around, it wasted your energy. You didn’t want to conserve it. You couldn’t. Death was coming and your time was still limited.

“Felix?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I think we should do that last thing on our bucket list this week.”

He glanced back to look at you over his shoulder. His heart ached, knowing what that meant, but he nodded. “I’ll talk to the guys and we’ll do it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Stop getting so sappy, you’re going to make me burn the vegetables.” He stuck his tongue out and laughed at you.

“You started it!”

~ ~ ~

Two days later, the two of you stood in thrifted outfits. You held hands out in the back of Chan and Jeongin’s dorm. The rest of the guys speckled around. Jeongin stood with a bible open. “I’m so glad I get to carry out my dream of becoming a priest before you die.”

“You’re welcome.”

The guys sat in a plethora of lawn chairs. Jeongin stood beneath a gazebo and glanced between you and Felix. “Are the two of you ready to begin?” The sun and the guys became your witnesses.

You nodded and Felix agreed. His thumbs slowly brushed along the back of your hand. Jeongin sighed and read off a random passage of vows he found online. “Do you take Lee Felix to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”

Felix blinked rapidly, squeezing your hands a little tighter. You smiled and nodded your head. “I do.”

“And Felix, do you take-”

“Shut up. I do. Of course, I do. Lawfully wedded spouse, from this day forward, better, or worse, or whatever. In sickness and until death do us part. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t care about that part. I just want to kiss you.”

In the background, laughter appeared. Jeongin sighed and shut the bible. “Well, I guess I didn’t need that. Go ahead, you may kiss the-”

Gasps filled the air. You squealed. Felix wrapped an arm around you and dipped you down, causing one of your feet to leave the ground. When the warmth of his lips met yours, your hands cupped his cheeks.

Jeongin blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. A few of the others looked the same way. When Felix pulled away and placed you back on your feet, a warm and fuzzy feeling filled your heart. He grinned at you and booped your nose.

“Alright,” Chan clapped in the background and shoved himself to his feet. “It’s time to cook the lamb and sides. Who wants to do what?”

When you offered to do something, he shook his head and waved you away with Felix. “I think Felix wanted to discuss something with you.” He winked at Felix and spun around, dishing out roles to the other guys.

You glance back to find Felix. He smiled and grabbed your hand. “Yeah, sorry. I wanted to do the ring exchange away from everyone.”

“Oh, I forgot about the rings. That’s one of the most important parts and I-”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” He grabbed your hand and led you away from the guys and the grill. Across the way, he stopped in his and Seungmin’s backyard.

As carefully as he could, he pulled out a velvet box from his pocket and opened it to reveal two rings. Your face softened instantly. “They’re gorgeous.” The pair of rings sat snug between black velvet padding.

“I got us both rings with our birthstone colors. Mine is sapphire, but it doesn’t matter. You can either pick that, or yours. It’s entirely up to you.”

“I want yours. I want to take a piece of you with me to the grave.”

“Do you have to remind me that you’re dying so often?”

“I can’t let you forget.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, grabbed the sapphire jeweled ring, and slowly placed it on your ring finger. You picked out yours and grabbed his hand. You hesitated for a moment, noting how warm his hands were. Lately, yours has lost their warmth far too quickly for your liking.

“Hey, are you okay? It’s okay if you want that ring, really, it-”

“I’m okay. Just thinking.” You slipped the ring on his ring finger and held it up to the sparkling sun. “This fits you well. It looks beautiful with your skin tone.”

“And the band color matches. Look at us. We did it! Kinda. We’re married! In theory, that’s all that matters.”

You laughed and nodded. He reached out, cupping the side of your cheek. He kissed your forehead affectionately and pulled back. “Before we go back to the others, I wanted to read something I wrote to you.”

He pulled a folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his suit and stepped back. “If you were to tell me our love story would end with you dying months ago, I would have laughed. I would have dubbed it absurd and moved on with my life. Over these past few weeks, my world has shattered, b-but-” He choked up. “You’ve managed to help me rebuild it in ways that I didn’t think possible.”

“I’ve always feared death. I’ve hated it. It’s sat on my shoulder and haunted me since I was younger. Out of the two of us, you’re the first to cross the rainbow bridge. I like to think that heaven is as big and beautiful as you imagine it to be.”

“Whatever happens, it must be good because people usually don’t return from death.” A weak chuckle fell from your throat and he continued. “But please know, you’re welcome to come back at any time. If you find out that you can haunt people, my house is always open.”

He didn’t dare look up at you. Not yet. “Our love is immeasurable for one another. I don’t think the spirit realm can stop it either. The devil can try, but I believe we’re untouchable and-”

He shook his head and wrinkled the ball of paper. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I should have worked better on it.”

“Nah, I’m glad you let me know I can haunt you. I’m going to take you up on that offer. Maybe try a ouija board or something? We’ll come up with a code word to let you know I’m okay.”

“Like?”

“Maybe a symbol, or something.” You shrugged. “I’ve always thought Monarch butterflies were pretty.”

“Monarchs it is.”

“Speaking of butterflies,” you reached down and took something from your own pocket. “I didn’t write vows because I couldn’t think of any, but I bought a disposable camera. I thought maybe we could take photos throughout today and the next few days. You can look back on them after I’m gone.”

“That’s really beautiful. Can I take one of you?” You nodded. He turned on the camera, stepped back, and adjusted the frame. When he found the right angle he clicked, lighting up your eyes with a bright flash.

“You’re a natural at posing.”

You stared at him for a moment. A halo of sunlight shrouded you. He wanted to remember this brief moment forever. Your eyes went to the ground before finding his “Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to die,” you finally admitted. Tears filled your eyes. “I’m so scared. I don’t want to go alone.”

He leaned forward, shutting off the camera, and wrapping you in a hug. He pulled your head to his chest. “I don’t think you’ll be alone. It’s been documented that some people see their passed loved ones before they go. I think they’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

“You really think so?”

“I hope so. I want to see my grandma again. If you see her, please give her the biggest hug for me, will you? She always gave the best hugs.”

Your arms tightened around him. Your head dipped against his chest. His heart beat rhythmically. A painful pang of envy cut through you and you hated yourself for it. It wasn’t his fault your body was giving up.

You sniffled. Tears soaked his suit, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he gently placed the point of his chin on top of your head. His arms shielded you. You should have physically lived forever. His heart wasn’t the right place to carry your memory. He wanted you here forever.

His eyes went over to the side. A few yards over, the guys talked and laughed. This was hard on them too, but they tried not to let the two of you see how much it bothered them. Death was hard for everyone. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that all these people he loved would be gone one day. Where would they end up? How? How do we keep going after the people we love are gone? Being human is such a poetic tragedy. So much beauty. So much pain. A chaotic mindfuck of emotions, too short and insufferably long; how rare and beautiful it is to exist.

“When the time is right, I’m going to come find you and hold you just like this,” Felix finally uttered.

“Promise?”

“Of course, I promise.”

“And in the meantime, you have to keep making good music. I’ll come back to haunt you. You should talk to me and tell me how life is. I’ll find a way to communicate, somehow.”

“I believe it.”

You pulled away from his chest and sniffled again. “Are we deluding ourselves?”

“Probably, but it feels better that way.” He pressed another kiss to the tip of your nose. “We should probably go before the food gets done and the guys eat it all. Changbin and Han would.”

“It’s not nice to throw them under the bus like that.” You took his hand and led him back to them.

“It’s true and you know it. After this? We’ll have some of that cake I made.”

About that time, Hyunjin came out of the back door with a square sheet of cake and a candle. Not yet lit, he slowly walked it over to the pair. The happy birthday song left his lips. Right as he nearly approached, he stumbled and slipped.

Gasps sounded and Hyunjin shrieked. He jerked upright with wide eyes. The cake crumbled into pieces. He peeked out from beneath the vanilla buttercream frosting on his face. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I-”

“Why did you sing happy birthday?” You asked.

“I couldn’t think of a wedding song from the top of my head.”

You lost it. A giggle burst from your stomach. You laughed, curling down and clutching your stomach. Felix joined in and the rest hesitated. Changbin was the first to break into high pitched laughter, pointing at Hyunjin. Hyunjin threw him the middle finger and that broke the rest of them.

Han reached down, pulled a fingerful of cake from Hyunjin’s cheek, and put it in his mouth. “Wow, it’s still good. Great job, Yongbok. Hyunjin, uh-” He glanced down. “You should learn to walk better.”

“I’ll kill you!” Hyunjin’s dark eyes widened and a hand clamped over his mouth. “Wrong thing. I didn’t mean to say that. I just-” He got up and bowed to you. Cake crumbs and rich white icing slathered his face and suit. Feeling horrible, he wanted to disappear. When he bowed, bits of destroyed cake hit the ground.

You couldn’t be mad. None of you could. Nothing about this was traditional. It was one last party. A marriage. A celebration of life. It was everything tied all together. Later, your family and more friends were showing up.

Everything all at once because your tomorrow wasn’t promised.

You glanced over your shoulder, grinning at Felix. “Hey, we might as well take another picture and put that camera to good use.”

~ ~ ~

You died three days later. After that last big hoo-rah, you dwindled quite rapidly. You tried to put on a brave face for Felix and everyone, but he saw through your exhausted facade quickly.

For those three days, it was a lot of quiet conversation in the stillness of the hospice room. The sage green walls and the chirps of the birds from your open window. You shifted to watch them, unable to stand watching the television.

Everything ached. It didn’t hurt, it just ached, as if you ran an entire marathon without stretching and pacing yourself. IV fluids pumped you full of meds, trying to make the last bits of life as comfortable for you as possible.

Felix forced himself to harness peace in the moments of your sleeping silence. When your chest rose and fell, a sure sign you were still alive. He pushed your hair from your face, gently planting kisses on your colorless skin.

The warm color disappeared. As your illness strengthened inside you, you weakened. You tried to be the bigger person, hiding your fear, but on that last night, you knew your time was coming.

You curled up to Felix, unable to let go. You didn’t eat. Instead, you shifted to his chest, listening to the steady wallop of his heart. “Felix?” You whispered

“Hmm?”

“I think my biggest fear isn’t death itself. I think it’s leaving you behind. I gave you all my love for nothing. I feel like I gave you this burden.”

“You’re not a burden and this isn’t a burden. Don’t talk like that.” He wiped a tear away from your cheek. “You’ve been my greatest adventure.”

Your bottom lip quivered. “You mean it?”

“Every last word.”

You stayed entangled like that for hours until he had to use the bathroom. You were half asleep, drifting away. He kissed the top of your temple and then your nose, promising to be right back. It only took a few minutes, but it was long enough.

When he came back and shifted you, he jerked back as if he’d been slapped. He sprinted away, calling for assistance. The pastel yellow walls mocked him. Tears filled his eyes as he explained the situation to one of the nurses. The stillness and fading warmth of your skin.

In your final act of mercy, you waited to go until he was tucked safely in the bathroom. He didn’t see the way your sleepy eyes followed him into the bathroom. Your breath caught in your chest after he shut the door. You couldn’t get it back, but you didn’t panic.

Your body filled with helium. You floated. One last final gasp and your eyes drifted shut. A soul laid to rest, slipping to the other side, and diving into the sympathy of warmth.

You left the world knowing you were loved and even if it was short, that was the most important part.

~ ~ ~

At the funeral, the heaviness wasn’t as bad as Felix expected. Of course, he missed you. They all did. Maybe it hurt a little less because they knew it was coming. He stole as many kisses as he could. The next would have to wait until he joined you on the other side.

He blotted his eyes as the preacher spoke. In the cemetery burial, he spoke to your loved ones. Sniffling and teary eyed, Jeongin stepped up beside him. “Felix?”

“Yeah?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Why does death have to be so hard?”

“Because it can’t live. It takes lives because of envy. It tries to capture and cage something it can never obtain.”

“I miss them.”

“Me too.”

He pulled a white rose from a vase and approached your coffin. Jeongin tagged along behind him. Felix stepped up first. He glanced at the stained wood, hoping that wherever you were, you finally found peace. He placed the white rose in the center of the coffin.

Before he could speak, something tickled his hand. Glancing down, the fluttering wings of a monarch butterfly. Tears welled in his eyes immediately. “You missed me so much, you came back this quickly, huh?”

Behind him, Jeongin peered over Felix’s shoulder. “Is that a monarch butterfly? What is it doing here? It’s too early for monarchs.” He stepped forward and slowly eased his rose next to Felix’s.

“It’s them,” he whispered. The wings flapped again and went to the edge of his suit. He blinked wet eyes and smiled. “I love you.”

Just as Jeongin was about to remove his hand from the coffin, Felix gasped. Jeongin’s head turned and his eyes widened. On the tip of Felix’s nose, the winged creature sat unbothered.

“Woah, didn’t you used to always kiss their nose?”

“I called them my butterfly kisses.” Silent tears trickled down his cheeks. “They came back. One more kiss before they go.”

I love you, too.

After a few more seconds, the butterfly flapped its wings and took off. Their eyes followed it higher and higher into the air. They exchanged another look and Felix smiled. He chuckled and wipe away falling tears

You might not be there in person anymore, but you’d always be with them in spirit.

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