#(AKA Things I was NOT EXPECTING to wake up to see today) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inkie-does-whump · 5 months ago

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You’ll look back and laugh someday (or at least you’ll learn to be okay)

A Life Series Lab AU, featuring Mumbo

Content warnings: kidnaping, tranquilizer gun, implied abuse, angst

2200 words

Aka: it’s Mumbo’s first day in the facility. He meets some new friends, and reunites with an old friend.

Author's note: wow, this came out much longer than I expected. I guess that's what I get lol. It is the first one shot for the AU so I had to do work building

Mumbo likes to think the world is predictable. He likes mechanics and spreadsheets, and he likes things that are always the same. He likes days where he gets to wake up, follow a plan, and go back to bed.

But today is not one of those days.

It is hard to tell what is happening exactly, but Mumbo is very certain he does not like it. It is dark and humid where he’s just woken up, and by the way the floor is shaking, he guesses he is in the back of a van.

He tries to reach up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but his hands seem stuck on something. He tugs again, only to finally come to the realization that his hands are tied behind him.

“Hello, excuse me?” he calls. He strains to look towards the front of the vehicle. “Where am I? What are you doing?”

Two people in cloaks and masks sit in the front. One of them, the one who wasn’t driving, turns to stare at Mumbo. The mask is white, covering his whole face, with one cultish symbol in the middle.

“Erm. Hello.” Mumbo clears his throat, “Mind explaining?”

The masked person just glances back at the driver and murmurs something to them.

The driver sighs and nods.

Mumbo arches his eyebrows, trying to make out what they were saying, “I’m sorry, you what?”

There is a tranquilizer gun pointed at him in a matter of moments.

“Goodness gracious!” he gasps, “Now, I don’t think-”

But then the trigger is pulled, and Mumbo can’t feel the movement of the van anymore.

…

There is a cold metal floor underneath him, still and steady.

Mumbo groans and sits up, rubbing his face. His hands are free again, he realizes. He rubs his wrists where the bite of the rope has left angry, red lines.

He frowns at his clothes. White tank top and pants. He doesn’t own these clothes. They aren’t his.

“What on earth…” Mumbo looks up at the people around him.

He is surrounded by half a dozen people in identical masks and cloaks. Several medical devices and tubes are attached to various parts of his body. They seem to be measuring something.

One of the people turns to look at him.

“Hello, I see you have awoken

Welcome to your new home.

Just making sure nothing’s broken

Then you’ll be free to roam.”

Mumbo just stares at the person blankly. They begin to remove the medical devices stuck to his arms and chest.

“Excuse me,” he says, “I, uhm, who are you? Why are you rhyming?”

The person nods, as if expecting this question, but they don’t answer him.

“You can’t just take a person off the street like that! I was filming!” He looks around quickly, like he would be able to find his things just laying on a table somewhere. “Where is my camera? And the rest of my equipment?”

One of the people help him off the table he was sitting on. The tiles are cold under his feet.

“And where are my shoes?” He huffs, “what is happening?”

The person walks him to the door. They nod, as if they understand his confusion.

“Let me show you around,

I’ll give you some rules too.

Just stay inside your bounds,

And trouble will avoid you.”

The person guides Mumbo to a wide room, painted bleach white, and gestures to a frame on the wall. Glancing around the room, Mumbo sees a three other doors, one on each side of the room. In the center of the room there are several tables and seats, bolted to the floor, and a few bean bags in the farthest two corners. Several people in the same white uniform as him are scattered around the area.

Mumbo swallows nervously and turns to the frame. Inside are a list of rules:

1. Obey the Watchers

2. Eat during designated mealtimes

3. Take your medication

4. Stay in your room at quiet time

5. Work hard

“Who are the-“ Mumbo turns to the person who led him here, but they are gone. “-The… Watchers.”

The other people in the room keep glancing at him. He can hear some of their whispers.

“-Another new one?”

“Poor guy…”

“You don’t think-“

“Rude, aren’t they?”

That last voice is directly in Mumbo’s ear, and he flinches.

“Well they just sit there talking about you instead of introducing themselves.” The guy who is talking is covered in scars. He looks charming, and warm, and like he would be over six feet tall if not for the wheelchair he was sitting in. “I’m Scar by the way.” He holds out a hand.

Mumbo eyes the people on the other side of the room, before shaking Scar’s hand.

Scar has a metal collar around his neck. It looks uncomfortable, except then Mumbo reaches up to feel his own neck and finds a matching one. He tugs on it gently, and something sharp pricks against the nape of his neck. He decides to not force it off.

“Sorry, excuse me.” Mumbo rings his hands together, “Where am I? What’s happening?”

“Last Life SMP” Scar answers, as if that was any sort of answer. “And you’re a new subject! There’s two other new subjects too, I think, but I don’t know where they went.”

“Uh. SMP?”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s a Scientific Mastery Project. It’s what they call facilities like this, where they test us and make us do things. For, like, science I guess.”

Mumbo shakes his head, “I’m. I’m not a subject of anything! I need to go home, how do I leave?”

Scar winces, like he’s been waiting for this question. Instead of answering, he turns his wheelchair around, “Let me show you the facility?”

Mumbo hurries behind, “Who were those other people? Why were they rhyming?”

“Oh, the Watchers.” Scar says, “Yeah, they just do that. We don’t know why. The Watchers run everything here. The tests, the work, the food, everything.”

“Work?” Mumbo squeaks. Oh goodness. Oh no. Has he been kidnapped into a labor camp? His stomach drops.

Scar nods, struggling with a doorknob and his wheelchair. Mumbo opens the door and holds it open for him. “Thank you. Yeah. Rentings and stuff. You, uh, you get used to it.”

There is a beat of silence as Scar wheels down the hall. There are several doors along the stretch of hallway, each spread out by several meters. The doors each have a window next to them, but most of the curtains are drawn.

Scar stops at one of the doors at the very end of the hall, “This is the last open room.” He says, “So you stay here.”

Mumbo pushes the door open and peers in the room.

Other than the light coming in from the hallway, it is dark. It pours in through the open window, illuminating the small space. There is a bed and a nightstand. A lamp sits on the nightstand. Other than those things, the room is plain.

“No. No, I’m supposed to go home.” Mumbo says, “I can’t stay here.”

Scar rolls backwards a few inches, avoiding eye contact, “Could I introduced you to the others?”

Mumbo hesitates, then sighs and nods, “Yeah, maybe someone in charge? So I can explain this is all misunderstanding. Then I can go home.”

Scar doesn’t answer. He just wheels away down the hall.

Distantly, Mumbo can hear screaming, “What was that?”

Scar swallows. His voice is stiff, “It’s just Joel.”

“Joel?” Mumbo echoes, “Well is he okay? Why is he screaming?”

Scar forces a smile, “This is Scott’s room! You’ll like Scott.” He knocks on the door.

The knock his answered by a little voice, “you can come in.”

Scar nods at Mumbo, prompting him to open the door and creep inside. Someone, Mumbo assumes this is Scott, is laying on top of the bed. He lifts his head weakly to look at Mumbo.

“You’re new.” He comments. “Did Impulse send you here?”

“Uh, Scar.” Mumbo says. “You’re Scott?”

Scott forces himself to sit up with a pained sigh, “Yeah.” He manages, “That’s me. Do you need something?”

Mumbo hesitates, looking Scott up and down. He looks ill. “Are. Are you okay?”

Scott grimaces, “Yeah, all good here.”

This was clearly a lie, but Mumbo could hear Scar calling him down the hall.

“Well. Good.” Mumbo manages, “I’ll, um. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Scott says.

Mumbo hurries down the hall to catch up with Scar, who is already talking about how Mumbo should meet Impulse and Skizz.

They pass doors and windows until one of the catches Mumbo’s attention fiercely. He stops walking.

Those eyes.

Someone has their curtains open, and they are staring directly at Mumbo with wide purple eyes.

“He’s cool, you’ll like him. Oh, and you should-“ Scars cuts himself off, realizing that Mumbo has stopped following him. “Mumbo? What are you looking at?”

His throat is dry.

“I know him.”

Scar is quiet.

“Who is that?” Mumbo asks, “Why won’t he blink?”

His eyes stare and stare, and Mumbo can feel himself start to sweat under the gaze. He knows those eyes. He knows that face, that figure.

And yet something is so wrong.

“Scar, who is that?”

The hallway is silent, except for the soft sound of Scar coming back over to be beside Mumbo. Scar looks through the window at the person sitting in the bed.

“He doesn’t talk to anyone.” Scar says. “He just sits there and looks at people. Sometimes he comes out to get food, but even then, he doesn’t say anything.”

“But I know him.” Mumbo says, still unable to take his eyes away. “What’s his name?”

Scar shakes his head, “You wouldn’t know him, he’s been here forever. Longer than I have.”

“His name.” Mumbo insists.

Scar hesitates.

Mumbo manages to tear his eyes away to look at Scar.

Scar sighs, “Grian.”

And it clicks.

Mumbo knows where he’s seen that face before. Grian is not a common name, but Mumbo knows it. He knows it very well.

He steps away from the window and slams the door open. Without the glass between them, Grian is much less intimidating. He’s in the same uniform as them, with a metal collar stuck around his neck. He was just as much prisoner as Mumbo was.

Grian’s eyes go wide at the sudden movement, and his wings flare up, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Mumbo.

“Grian.” Mumbo says, “Grian, it’s me.”

Grian does not answer. His black wings lower slightly. Mumbo takes it as recognition.

He wanders a step closer, “It’s your best friend.” Somewhere behind him, Scar makes a choked noise. Mumbo ignores it. “Grian, where have you been?”

Grian does not answer.

“Just… here? The whole time? Grian, it’s been years!” Mumbo says. “You can’t have-”

“Mumbo.” Scar starts. “how do you know him?”

Mumbo turns to where Scar is sitting a distance away, “I know him from- I, uh, I grew up with him. I’ve known him forever.” He turns back to Grian, “We thought you were dead! You’ve been reported missing for ages.”

Grian’s eyes finally move away from Mumbo to stare at Scar through the window. Then he slowly looks back at Mumbo.

Mumbo approaches Grian carefully, “I thought I’d never see you again. How long has it been, five years? Six?”

Grian watches him carefully. He is sitting crisscross in his bed, hands in his lap, with a blank and unmoving look on his face. His hair is longer than Mumbo remembers. And his eyes.

Something is wrong with his eyes.

They shouldn’t be that color.

“What did they do to you?” Mumbo breathes, stopping at the edge of the bed in front of Grian. “You’re not. You’re not okay.”

Grian looks down at his hands. Mumbo follows his gaze, and spots with Grian is looking at.

Two symbols, one on the back of each of his hands, are seared into his skin. Burned, dark and red.

The same symbol Mumbo saw on the masks of the Watchers.

A brand.

His stomach turns uneasily. He glances back at Scar. He has no burn marks on his hands. Mumbo swallows, throat dry, and looks back at Grian.

“Why did they do this to you?”

But Grian still doesn’t answer. He just lifts his head again to stare at Mumbo blankly. Mumbo is going to be sick.

“Why did they hurt you? Why did they take you away?” Mumbo starts to beg, “Say something, Grian! Say something.”

Grian’s expression doesn’t change.

Mumbo shudders and grips the bedsheets, “Why won’t you answer?” he asks weakly, “You use to laugh! You use to laugh so much…”

And Grian keeps looking at him, unblinking, eyes so unfocused that Mumbo doubts he can even hear him.

“Answer me.” Mumbo whispers, head bowed and eyes screwed shut, “You were my best friend…”

Scar rolls up beside him silently, and reaches to put his hand over Mumbo’s.

The comfort is lost on him.

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quill-firefly · 6 months ago

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Actually, I Want My Deadbeat Dad Back (Luke Castellan-Centric Fanfic)

Taking a little break from the usual fanfics I write because this entered my brain and it must be removed otherwise I will not get a good night's sleep. This is taking elements from both PJO and Epic the Musical. I've seen a lot of Percy getting time travelled back during the Epic!Odyssey (especially since it's like a shock for him to see what Poseidon was like back then). So now I'm punting Luke to the past.

Except Hermes, while obviously still retaining his personality traits in Epic, is not bound by the ancient rules of gods not interfering so he is keeping this strange little son of his with him.

Also this is a bit of a darkfic with Wingfic AU elements because I said so. Aka, Luke and Odysseus have little wing-ears because of their relation to Hermes.

When he stabbed himself with the knife, he expected to wake in front of Charon and be banished to the fields of Asphodel. Hades, he wouldn’t be surprised if Zeus himself tossed him down into Tartarus.

What he did not expect was to wake up, half-drowned as a stranger stood over him. The man’s face was familiar, but it was mostly the wings where ears should have been that caught Luke’s attention. He coughed, forcing himself to sit up as his eyes tried to adjust to the sunlight that shone down. He looked up, his voice soft and disbelieving, “Father?”

“What?” The man moved back, a momentary heartbreak in his brown eyes. Then Luke felt the sharp end of a blade against his neck. Wouldn’t be the first he found himself at the end of a weapon today. His hands scrambled against… sand, and that was when Luke finally took in where he was.

This was not the Underworld.

He kept his face neutral, but his heart hammered quickly in his chest as he took in the beautiful island landscape. He had been in Olympus just a few moments ago… He turned back to the familiar stranger, “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” The man shot back. Luke noted that the stranger wasn’t quite keen on sharing his name first. The sword hadn’t moved any further, but he didn’t dare try to disarm the man. Something about the man’s demeanor - and the lack of information Luke had about him - showed that he probably wouldn’t hesitate to skewer Luke like pork barbecue. Then the man was kneeling next to him. It made Luke uncomfortable to see those wings - quite similar to his own, which really only meant one thing.

“Look, you can clearly see our shared relation. Put down the sword.”

It wasn’t just the wings that gave the stranger away, but rather the mischievous glint in his eyes. Luke had enough of seeing it in the mirror and in his siblings’ gazes. The man narrowed his eyes. Standing up, the man moved his cape to the side, giving Luke a clear view of a shipwrecked boat and a couple of men staring awkwardly at him.

Now, it has been years since Luke had indulged himself in remembering the ancient Greek heroes, but his mind was quick to give him a horrifying answer as he took in where he really was.

“No no no no no.” He could almost hear the lingering traces of the mad Titan’s laughter in his mind as his situation finally sunk in. He stood up, nearly stumbling back into the sand as he tried to get away from the stranger. Sadly, he was too slow as his arm was immediately grabbed. He could hear the man bark out something, perhaps a question?

He tried to slow his panic, turning his gaze back up to… By the gods he could hardly accept it.

“Is this your island?”

He shook his head, wishing he was dead. “It’s not.”

—

Despite how much the fates hated him, being brought back to the past was not the worst thing that has ever happened to Luke Castellan.

Where to start?

What about his whole life being damned before he was even born?

What about his mother losing herself while he could do nothing but watch?

What about his deadbeat of a father who never once took the time to care?

What about his siblings and the rest of the Half-Bloods, left to be forgotten by their parents, sent out to die in meaningless quests for gods who would never remember their names?

Ah… and isn’t that where he keeps going back to.

Luke won’t pretend that there wasn’t a piece of him that wasn’t being selfish when he joined the forces of Kronos.

The scar of his failed quest was still fresh, the taste of his own blood still lingering on his tongue when the dreams began.

Kronos had offered him a chance to fight back against the gods, had consoled him when even his own father wouldn’t.

He had been a child. A scared and hurt child.

How could Luke have said no?

Maybe that really wasn’t the start of it, but gods know that he was always destined to fall.

Deep down, Luke knew it began even before he was born. He was but a pawn in the game of the gods - even if he had in the end decided to let go of all that pain and hurt.

Still, the neglect doesn’t go away easily - especially now that he was kept alive by that damned Titan who clearly didn’t want him to rest.

Even so, his mind kept going back to that quest.

That ridiculous quest for a golden apple.

What did his father even need it for?

He would never know. He failed after all.

And the scars remained with him even now, thrown so many years back into the past.

Even now…

He could still feel the emptiness at his back, the loss of the weight that once was there.

When he was younger, he used to enjoy taking long flights throughout Camp Half-Blood.

He remembered the hours he spent with his younger siblings, carrying them in his arms as he flew.

He recalled how a younger Annabeth and Thalia would tentatively reach out, always worried that he’d shriek at them in an instinctive attempt to keep them away from his wings, only for him to curl a protective wing around both of them.

Despite how much he resented his father, Luke loved that he had inherited wings.

He loved those wings, and some nights, he could bring himself to love his father for being able to claim him in that way.

His father may have cruelly abandoned him and his mother, but unlike most of the demigods, at least he had been claimed - long before he ever set foot in Camp Half-Blood.

Then the quest.

Ladon.

Those claws.

… He used to enjoy taking long flights.

—

The rest of the Ithacan crew kept their distance, though Luke could tell they were curious about him.

It wasn’t everyday that one saw another Hermes-descendant, and as far as he could tell, he hoped to keep up that appearance. They didn’t need to know he was actually a demigod. Maybe the lack of back wings was a blessing, they wouldn’t have any clue that he wasn’t just a descendant like Odysseus.

His heart fluttered as the thought crossed his mind.

Never in his whole mortal life would he have expected nor wanted to meet any of the ancient Grecian heroes.

Just another joke from the Fates.

Fuck, what was his life?

He watched as the infamous King of Ithaca paced the island, a heavy sadness on the man’s shoulders. Luke must have just arrived after the great loss of the man’s crew to Poseidon.

Funny how they shared that similarity… being screwed over by a child of Poseidon.

Though, Luke felt prideful enough to believe that he wouldn’t have yelled his name out like Odysseus did.

If the lost king wasn’t stressed about their predicament, Luke was sure he’d be under heavy interrogation - but after his admittance that they were on Circe’s island (because at this point Luke didn’t give a damn about accidentally ruining the past considering his own predicament), Odysseus was strangely silent. He was thinking of a plan. Luke knew how quick-witted the Grecian hero had been.

The man had sent a few of his men away, further into the island. Now, he was thinking of his next move.

Luke didn’t really care enough to warn him about what was going to happen.

As if right on cue, one of the men that Odysseus had sent stumbled out of the forest. Odysseus had reached out for him immediately, holding him by the arms as he demanded where the rest of the crew were.

Pigs. They were currently pigs.

Luke would have laughed, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He was already on thin ice for being a stranger that somehow washed-up on this island at the same time as them (Luke was not about to explain that he was from the future).

At least Odysseus hadn’t called him out on his lie. He didn’t even call Luke out when he lied about his name.

He should probably thank his father that Odysseus probably took pity on him since they were of kin, but right now Luke didn’t want to invoke Hermes’ name - not when he didn’t know what his father was like in the past.

Instead, he leaned back against a tree as he watched Odysseus have a quick argument with the man. Then they were both rushing into the forest, the other man trying to stop the king from entering any further.

As he watched them disappear into the trees, his eyes following after them, Luke couldn’t help but feel as though something in the foliage was staring back.

His back burned.

—

“Hello, little bird. That was a silly stunt that you pulled.”

This was Tartarus. Kronos sent him to Tartarus.

Luke clawed at the god’s arms, his wing-ears flapping frantically as he tried to escape his father’s tight embrace.

Why couldn’t he have had this when he was a child?

Even if he had sacrificed his life, Luke had no love for his father. At least, none that he wanted to give anymore.

As the god kept him from escaping, his eyes met Odysseus’.

He knew the story.

He knew what Odysseus had done to get home.

Still, Luke felt betrayed.

“Thank you, darling. Here’s the moly.” With his face pressed against Hermes’ chest, Luke could feel the crackle of divine energy - and it scared him. Even the arms that caged him held all the power that the gods wielded.

This was not the father he knew.

His father pretended to be a mailman.

He rarely showed his divine self.

He watched as Odysseus reached out for the plant, refusing to meet Luke’s gaze.

This wasn’t how the story goes. Hermes assisted Odysseus for… Hades, Luke didn’t know. Hermes helped because why not?

So why was he suddenly a bargaining chip?!

“Let go of me!” Even as the arms continued to tighten, Luke did his best to flail out of the god’s embrace, his wing-ears flapping fitfully. “Don’t touch me!”

“Oh you know how demigods are, darling! Stubborn and reckless. Little Loukanos here has hit quite the rebellious phase. Scared me when I returned to my palace to find him missing. Little bird tossed himself right out into the sea. Can you imagine it?” The god laughed, and Luke wished he had continued his war with the gods.

The audacity!

Hermes was lying, and they all knew it.

Odysseus knew it.

“Hermes… thank you.” The king said softly, a hint of guilt and hesitation in his voice. Luke felt somewhat vindicated at least that Odysseus felt some semblance of regret. Not that he would save him, but it was the thought that counted.

“Don’t thank me, friend. You very well may die.” There was an amused smile in the god’s tone, and Luke shivered. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such blatant carelessness in his father’s voice.

“Good luck!”

He heard faltering footsteps, and soon there was nothing but silence.

It was just him and this version of his father now.

Those arms eased around him, but Luke wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he was free. Hands gripped the back of his shirt, as if the god was searching. He dared to look up, scared of those irisless eyes. The Hermes of the future had the same blue eyes as Luke’s.

He really didn’t know this version of his father.

“Now that dear Odysseus is gone, you and I should have some father-son time, hm?”

The god’s smile was strained.

“Let’s talk.”

The god leaned down, his mouth close to Luke’s wing-ear.

“Tell me, little bird, where are your wings?”

—

As a father, Odysseus would do anything to protect his son.

The thought doesn’t ease his guilt, even though a part of him knew that this was the right choice.

He knew his men were in danger, but he spared a single glance back to where he had left Loukanos with Hermes.

When he had first seen the young man, Odysseus had been surprised to find a fellow Hermes-kin. Then Loukanos had opened his eyes, and he’d called him father.

The “father” had taken him aback, but mostly it was the haunted look in the boy’s eyes that scared him.

Odysseus knew war.

He saw it in the eyes of his crew.

He saw it on his own.

His only hope is that he would never have to see that same look in his own son’s eyes.

Really, it was for the best that he left Loukanos with Hermes. He didn’t know where the boy had come from and Odysseus had enough men to worry about. He couldn’t take Loukanos with them once they left the island.

Besides, Hermes had said that the boy was his son who had escaped from Olympus.

Nevermind that Odysseus knew the god had lied.

Nevermind that as far as Odysseus was aware, his own grandfather - a son of Hermes - had never mentioned anything about Hermes keeping any of his children on Olympus.

Nevermind that Loukanos had looked terrified when Hermes had forcefully dragged him into his arms.

Odysseus had tried to think of another way, any other plan that didn’t require such a sacrifice.

But Hermes had flashed those irisless white eyes at him, a daring grin on the god’s face.

Try it, King of Ithaca. I dare you.

He needed the moly.

He needed to save his crew.

He needed to get home.

He needed to see Penelope and his own son.

Odysseus could only hope that Hermes would have no ill-intent towards Loukanos. After all, Hermes was a father himself. Surely he only had the best intentions for his son.

He could just delude himself that Loukanos was some spoiled demigod. There were plenty of spoiled royals. He’d had the displeasure of meeting them himself. Loukanos was probably just one of those.

Even if the boy had refused the embrace, Odysseus had seen how much Hermes had been so happy to hold Loukanos in his arms. How he refused to let go.

Odysseus would trade the world to have his family in his arms.

What did Telemachus even look like?

Had he gained the same wings that most Hermes-kin had?

Odysseus felt his wing-ears twitch, the heartbreak nearly consuming him as he thought of his son.

What he would give to be like Hermes right now.

He shook his head, grasping the moly tightly in his fist. It was a worthwhile deal. He couldn’t regret it.

He had a crew to save.

He had a kingdom to return to.

And he had his own family to think about.

Loukanos will be fine.

—

Luke was not fine.

“I don’t remember siring you.” There was a hand on his chin, tilting his face as the god observed the scar on his face, tracing it with clawed fingers.

Luke would have given anything to have the future version of Hermes. His actual father knew how to pretend to be human. This Hermes had no such reasons to play pretend.

“But I look at you and I feel a great sense of loss.” The god’s voice turned into a soft croon. “I look at you and feel as though I have a mortal heart to break.”

“...Right.” Luke tried to take a step back, cursing the Fates as he remembered that he had been cornered into a tree. “Like you said, ‘as though you have a mortal heart,’ don’t worry about it too much. Just let me go and we can pretend—”

“I don’t even know your name, little bird.” Hermes’ other hand gripped his arm, keeping him from darting sideways.

Luke wished Kronos had teleported the knife with him. Sure, Luke didn’t want to fuck around and find out if he tried to stab this Hermes, but it would have been better than being defenseless.

“It’s Loukanos—”

The grip on his chin tightened, and the god’s eyes glowed briefly.

“Don’t lie.”

He took a breath, trying to stop the erratic beating of his heart. “It’s Luke. Luke Castellan.”

Hermes frowned, relinquishing his grip. “Luke Castellan of…?”

He wracked his mind for an answer, but anything he said would have been seen as a lie. Weakly, he mumbled out, “...Of Connecticut?”

“Of what?” Now it was the god’s turn to be confused. Luke took the opportunity to quickly dart past his father’s arm, trying to put as much of a distance between him and the god.

He had barely made it a few steps before the god was on him. He covered his face as he landed on the ground with a huff. He could feel the end of Hermes’ caduceus at his lower back, keeping him from crawling away.

“Your words don’t register as a lie, little bird. But I can’t quite recall a place known as… Kanetikut? Ah, and I don’t think I remember which mortal woman you come from—”

“Of course you don’t. Typical of you not to remember mom.” Obviously past Hermes wouldn’t know Luke’s mom yet, but the comment enraged him.

“...You have a lot of anger towards me, little bird.” He felt the weight of the caduceus lift, and Luke scrambled back to his feet. At least this time, the god didn’t follow after him. Instead, he was staring at Luke with birdlike curiosity, as though he were a shiny trinket. “You dress strangely too. There’s something very odd going on here, little bird. Where are you from, really?”

“Like I’d ever tell you.” He scoffed before rolling his eyes. “The only place I should be in right now is the Underworld. So, do your job and drop me off.”

“You don’t look dead to me, Luke.” The god grinned, but the amusement quickly dropped. “Though I suppose you feel as though you’ve died. Your poor wings—”

“And whose fault is that?” He snarled, wishing more than anything that this really was his father. He had wanted so long to ask the god why he had sent him on that quest.

Why did he even want that stupid golden apple?

“Ha! Certainly not me, darling. I didn’t even know you existed until a few minutes ago.” Hermes tutted, as if lecturing a small child. “Still, you blame me, don’t you?”

Before Luke could respond, the god was suddenly in front of him, arms pulling him into an embrace. “While it isn’t my fault, I won’t leave you to suffer alone.”

“Wha—” He screamed as the god suddenly flew upwards, carrying Luke in his arms.

The god only laughed, as if this was nothing but a game to him.

“No need to be scared, little bird. Your father has you.”

Luke nearly screamed again as the god jokingly loosened his grip. “Where are you taking me?!”

“Home, little bird.” The god smiled, “I don’t ever want to feel the loss of you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

So some notes.

*In the ancient times, it was more common for children of gods to display non-mortal traits. In the modern world, however, the non-mortal traits have become rare as a necessary consequence of keeping demigods from getting murked lmao. Luke just got lucky (or not) that he inherited Hermes' wings.

**As Odysseus is only a descendant and not really a direct child, he only inherited the wing-ears (though this isn't usually a guarantee and they could very well just have mortal traits - Odysseus is just lucky). For the direct children of Hermes, they always inherit both the wing-ears and the actual back wings. So yes, no flying back to Ithaca for Odysseus.

***Past Hermes could sense that Luke was a direct child and not just a descendant. While he's being very playful and stuff, he's actually freaking out that Luke is missing his wings. Also, since the gods were more hands-on in interacting with mortal lives back in ancient times, Hermes can easily just take and keep Luke. He's gonna keep this strange little son of his close by. Also also, technically it doesn't make sense but past Hermes could sort of feel that Luke was going to be a great loss to him (since in modern times, Luke was Hermes' favorite child). He feels a deep love for this son of his that he doesn't quite remember having.

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo fanfic #epic the musical #epic hermes #epic odysseus #luke castellan #luke castellan-centric #wingfic #darkfic

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the---hermit · 2 years ago

Text

19|09|2023

I am fully back into my studying routine, and it's going smoothly so far. I was a bit intimidated at first because I was afraid I would stuggle after these months of rest, but honestly everything is coming very naturally. I am still paying very close attention to give myself time to get used to it again, so I take all the breaks I need even if I just need to get up and walk around the room for a couple of minutes, but I feel good about being back into the routine. It doesn't feel like a trap, it's just my comfortable productive habits. Today I continued working on the recorded lectures of last semester, I check the exam dates and for some reason the exam for this class will be later than expected. It will be in January, but honestly it's fine so I'll have time to do everything and study for a couple other classes in the meantime. I never realized how much I took for granted ppt presentations during lectures, because this class has only audio recordings and I am wasting so much time stopping and replaying things because I am not sure about dates or names. Despite this, which will surely make my progress a bit slower, I am liking the class. It's definitely more challenging than I was expecting but it's very interesting. Also an highlight of the day was my dad bringing me a cup of tea because he didn't see me in the kitchen at the usual time since I was working. I am a creature of habit and my day is indeed divided by my tea times.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

6 am morning routine my beloved (I love I went back to this as days are getting shorter because waking up while the sun isn't up yet is one of my favourite things in the world. I don't know why it gives me internal peace)

read first thing in the morning while sipping my waking up tea (aka a blend of green tea and mint)

checked infos I needed on some classes

read and answered emails

worked on two lectures of my theories of men and power practices in the modern era class

polished my notes adding highlights and key words

had an amazing second breakfast (it's a hobbit list of course I am including this)

wrote a couple of book reviews I will post soon

really got to relax my brain during my lunch break so when I got back to work in the afternoon I was super energized

daily Irish review on duolingo

wrote my to do list for tomorrow

continued working on my crochet mushroom cardigan while catching up with podcasts (this time it was book unbound and re:dracula)

📖: Of Ghosts And Goblins by Lafcadio Hearn

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streamdotpng · 2 years ago

Note

Military School AU

Wednesday gets (semi) seriously hurt in a challenge/Event and Addams' will fight to death (or just literally unable to continue) and Enid has a flashback to the night with the Hyde and her mind goes blank besides protecting Wednesday.

That's how the Nightshades/Wednesday realize Enid doesn't actually hate them/was just hurt and bitter. And how Enid's Pack realizes just how important Wednesday is to their Alpha/realize Enid Imprinted on Wednesday.

Or, Wednesday comes into contact with one of the Pack (handshake, combat, whatever), and has a vision of what Enid's been going through/feeling and how the Pack has been helping/taking care of her. And to everyone's surprise, Wednesday looks absolutely wrecked (but is trying hard not to show it), and gives them her gratitude and thanks for caring for her Wolf when she wasn't there (no matter how much she wanted to be).

[Sorry if this reads weird, I'm typing this in the car on my phone.]

its all good bud! sorry for answering this so late, i desperately tried to draw this but my hand is not handing today so let me set the scene

Incoming huge werewolf lore dump!

Grimwolves are emotional beings. Any overwhelming emotion can lead to a partial shift! from a burst of a werewolf paw coming forth or the shifting and dislocating of bones to a bigger form-

you can say its part of the reason why enid was so cold. A cheap attempt to control herself, to try and be better. Especially during her 'slump' in the 2nd semester of her sophomore year. It didn't help that when the pack settle into the dorm, there are times where they can see Enid desperately clenching her fists before slipping on her bracers.

Sometimes, when they wake up early enough to catch sight of Enid without them, they can see the way the muscles in her arms twitch and shift before settling in a way other werewolves shouldn't.

They keep their mouth shut, all too aware of the fact that enid wears her muzzle during classes too. They aren't really dumb, they know of how Enid got her alpha rank after all but there is a difference between hearing and seeing

And at the end of the semester when Enid seems to be coping all the more better and the muzzle wasn't such a need anymore, they can see the way she tends to pant with her mouth open at times. It wasn't anything new, most werewolves do that too at times

But it gives them an eyeful of the way too big teeth that most werewolves don't have

(aka enid still tends to get overwhelmed at times and having the ability to shift whenever isn't as much as a blessing like most think)

so! the pack are aware that enid's different. They don't know the exact name and she's a bit too big for her size whenever its time for monthly shifting but they never see her fully shift in distress

And that changes alot.

So as explained briefly here, werewolves have the whole day to get ready for their shift in the night. Which means that they don't tend to be too aggressive, theyre a touch more rational and their body can properly regulate all that wolf magic hormone stuff

Which leads to them looking more wolf than man. Which was a good thing! Makes it easier to blend in with the normies of back then

But grimwolves?

Their shifts are sudden and there is no period to get ready. It's just snap and you're a wolf but normal werewolves aren't made for that and so the body accommodates

So most of the time, it leads to the image above. Grimwolves were rampant back then along with violence so it spread to normies that these were how werewolves are supposed to look like. Thus reinforcing their monstrous nature, rumors begin to spread amongst normies and you get the point

Obviously it's been disproven by outcasts as times began to get more modern because grimwolves are totally myths

Now, imagine being in a tournament fully expecting to be able to beat a bunch of trained dogs because hey its not like it's the full moon, what can they do?

They already took down the Addams girl and her flowery friends, what's wrong with besting those smug mutts too?

I can't say much since I have trouble with words but Enid wrecks their ass. She's been trying to control her shifting since her second semester last year but honestly, Wednesday has always lead to her doing the craziest of things

Revealing her existence on live was certainly not one she expected to do but if it meant keeping Wednesday alive-

Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing Enid has done

#Reference #Military school au #My art #rendered

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changingplumbob · 1 year ago

Text

Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 12

The twins celebrate TV premiere day and Viola ages up to a toddler!

If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds Mercedes has a speech delay and may get words wrong, correct wording will be in brackets if that is the case Savannah aka Honeybee Mercedes aka Little Ladybug Viola aka Green Bean

Lavina: You want... another one? I should think three are enough of a handful already

Rahul: Mum, Cassandra and I want a big family

Lavina: Well I think it’s a terrible idea. The ones you have are already disrespectful

Rahul: Think what you like, we’re trying

Lavina: I suppose you could get lucky and the fourth one will be good mannered

Rahul: Mum you have GOT to stop talking the kids down, they need to be lifted up

Lavina: All this coddling nonsense-

Rahul: I try to be strict mum, I tell them off when they mess up, but there’s only so much they can understand at their age. If you expect me to send them to bed without supper you will be disappointed

Cassandra: Where’s mama? Where’s mama?

Viola: ga du da (I not know)

Cassandra: Here I am Viola

Viola: gree de na na (that’s impossible) *wails*

Cassandra: Oh, it’s okay. Its okay. Mama is here, mama is fine, you are safe green bean

Rahul: Who’s crying? Viola what’s wrong

Viola: *cries* he na di (I not understand)

Cassandra: Turns out she doesn’t like peek-a-boo

Rahul: Don’t tell me I did all that practice on Milton for nothing. Here green bean, watch papa. Watch papa, I’ll do it slowly

Cassandra: Good idea. She’s looking

Rahul: Papa hides. Where did papa go? Oh! Papa is right here with Viola and Mama

Viola: *giggles* gu fa fa (okay that not so scary now)

Cassandra works on her guitar playing before her shift while Rahul takes the calm moment to spend time with Viola.

Rahul: Would you like a younger sibling? I bet you would. You would have an ally against your big sisters wouldn’t you?

Mercedes: TV new (premiere) day here we GOOOOO

Lavina: What

Savannah: It’s a new episode of The Pride Family nana

Lavina: And what’s that

Savannah: Just the best cartoon show. The family’s last name is Lion so they call it the Pride family because a group of lions is a pride

Lavina: Oh how clever you are, here, have a candy

Mercedes: Where’s my candy nana

Lavina: Tell me something clever and you’ll get one

Savannah: Come on nana, Mercedes is super clever

Lavina: As soon as you get in the habit of saying please when you ask, more candy will appear

Rahul: Has it started yet

Mercedes: Almost, 4 and a half minutes to go

Lavina: Don’t tell me you still watch cartoons son

Savannah: Papa is the best at cartoon watching, he always watches with us

Mercedes: Unless Viola is crying

The premiere goes well and at the end Rahul helps the girls with their homework.

Mercedes: Papa I lost my first tooth today

Rahul: Did you little ladybug

Savannah: Yeah in class. We kept it safe now we can both put our teeth under our pillows together

Lavina: But Savannah you lost your tooth several days ago

Mercedes: She was waiting for me nana so we can see the tooth fairy together

Rahul: So if we tick off today, I think you’ve both earned your first scout badge

Mercedes: Yes! Which one

Rahul: Manual says scholarly aptitude

The twins stare blankly at Rahul and then pull confused faces at each other.

Rahul: It means you’ve been doing your homework

The twins understand this and happily celebrate, exchanging best friend bracelets! Rahul goes and wakes a napping Viola for some playtime.

Lavina: Rahul, she needs feeding

Rahul: We’re just playing right now because she’s bored

Lavina: Don’t let the poor thing starve. Feed her

Rahul sighs but scoops Viola off the playmat for a feeding anyway. It is a bit late for her dinner but she hasn’t seemed hungry.

Cassandra: Why are we awake? I think it’s past bedtime

Mercedes: MAMA!

Savannah: We missed you mama

Mercedes: We wanted to see you before bed

Cassandra: My work shift is a bit tricky isn’t it. Okay, come here. Big hugs then teeth and bed

Mercedes: Mama my tooth came out so-

Savannah: We’re going to see the tooth fairy tonight

Cassandra: Only if you actually go to sleep honeybee

Following hugs, kisses and I love you’s, the twins get to bed and tuck their teeth under their pillows.

Cassandra is woken early by two excited children jumping on the bed talking over each other about fairies and simoleons. Eventually she and Rahul manage to shepherd them towards breakfast.

Savannah: They’re quick, but I know I saw a sparkle as they flew

Cassandra: Fairies do sparkle

Mercedes: We need to think, next time we’ll have to see them

Savannah: Hmm. Maybe we-

Lavina: Girls! It’s an hour until school time, why haven’t you started breakfast? And Savannah you’re not even dressed!

Cassandra and Rahul get started on their chores for the day while Lavina watches over the girls who are far to interested in fairies to eat quickly.

Cassandra: *softly* Viola, green bean, time to wake up

Viola: *yawns*

Cassandra: It’s age up day. Mama will help you with your cake

Viola: pa uh Mama?

Cassandra: *gasps* Rahul! RAHUL! She said her first word

Rahul rushes in from lighting candles worrying he missed it. Cassandra scoops Viola out of the crib and turns her towards Rahul.

Cassandra: Can you say mama again for papa? Hmm? Mama for papa

Viola: Mama *yawns and stretches* lo papa

Rahul: Well done green bean! I knew you could do it *tickles tummy*

Cassandra: Please tell me you didn’t just leave fire unsupervised

Rahul blinks and runs back out of the room. Cassandra laughs as Viola nestles into her shoulder. Cassandra carries her to the kitchen and shows her the cake. Viola is very confused by it.

Cassandra: We blow the candles and the flames will go. Bye bye flames

Viola: Mama fla guu (mama flames go?)

Cassandra: Here we can do it together

Cassandra blows a few raspberries on Viola's tummy until the infant is copying the blowing action. Cassandra turns her towards the cake and spit bubbles go everywhere! But with her help the candles go out and Viola giggles in delight.

Viola is a toddler now, and a wild one! I can’t wait to find out her quirks.

Cassandra: Rahul I think we ought to see if she can potty before we head out

Rahul: Yes, that's sounds sensible

Cassandra: Would you help me with potty time

Rahul: Of course my darling. *switches to address Viola* Does someone need to go potty?

Viola: Ga ra papa (I don't know papa)

Cassandra: Sit down green bean

The couple try their best to explain things to Viola but the two and a half year old isn’t following and has an accident.

Rahul: Oh well, can’t be perfect on the first try. Do you want to go on a trip Viola? Hmm?

Cassandra: Let's go to the rec centre, just until the girls will be due home

Rahul: Sounds good. Okay green bean, time to go explore!

Previous ... Next

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #my sims #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0902 #RahulChopra #CassandraChopra #ViolaChopra #MercedesChopra #SavannahChopra

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rokurookajima · 4 months ago

Note

8. What is your favorite line/section from claw machine?

23. What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

30. Have you noticed your style change over time?

for the ask game!!!

thank youuuu as always i am fucking YAPPING so let me just.. read more lmao 👼🏻

AAAA. what a question.. thank you for this one LMAO tho this is a hard choice to make..

so i am REALLY happy with all of chapter 2 - the scene of the two of them meeting back up for the first time in high school was one i really always wanted to write back in the day, and was never sure how exactly it should go, so when i finally TRIED here, it just came together so well and organically. that was one of the chapters i wrote in one sitting and was like damn ok girl go off.

ch 4 is probably my favorite overall but especially the first segment aka the first time they very much accidentally shared a bed (who does not love a ~waking up in a haze and realizing someone is beside you that you DO NOT expect to see~ it’s one of my favorite cold opens).

THEN FINALLY. ch 5 i am proud of myself for bc it was definitely the one i wrestled with the most, particularly the (what i would consider) pent-ultimate moment of the revealing conversation between wan and korra towards the end. i rewrote and rearranged that conversation SO many times bc it was intended to be very.. circular and not entirely productive, but that was way harder to write than i expected lmao. so i’ll give credit that that’s one of my favorites for actually managing to get it to where i was happy with it!!

and now i’m also curious to go through and pick out my favorite individual lines but i am NOT going to do that today. but i DO need to reread the entire thing at this point to get back in the zone and FINISH IT so.. i might do that for fun anyway. and i’m sorry i will always answer about this fic REGARDLESS and yap too much about it / metalbanders in general bc it’s my BABY :’)

23. What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

who doesn’t always have like .. 10. there’s a lot (probably more that i HAVE started in some way than haven’t tho so…) i really want to write something from raava’s pov leading up to harmonic convergence because… angst hehe. and ofc speaking of angst, i still very much need to write kat’s kiss fic prompt which was “to distract” - haven’t started but when i say i am choosing violence for it i mean i am choosing VIOLENCE

30. Have you noticed your style change over time?

ohhh yeah definitely. i wrote a lot (“a lot” in retrospect i think i wrote outlines & stared at blank pages WAY more but i really FELT LIKE i wrote a lot, i just very rarely produced anything complete) when i was like 12-17 and i feel like i kind of started writing more ~stylistically~ when i was 15, and it took shape from there (which was yes, i read fight club at 14, got obsessed with chuck palahniuk’s books and absorbed him straight into my veins). so i would say the style has changed just in the sense of growing / improving / solidifying into something more consistent. like there’s something on ao3 that i started in 2012 at 15 and last updated in 2020 at 23, and even though it’s clear the later chapters are definitely better written than the early ones, i think you can tell it’s still the same voice writing it which i think is cool!

one notable difference that i think is just funny is that 10 years ago i really abused parenthesis in prose, and as i aged it turned into em dashes instead. but i’ve always used A LOT of italics and semi-colons. another way i’ve noticed growth is that i feel like i write dialogue in a distinctive way that matches my own speech patterns (my bestie read a scene from my original novel and was like “i love that they talk exactly like us” lmao). i obsessively read my dialogue out loud to make sure it actually comes out naturally which i think has helped me a lot to get more consistent and organic, where i remember struggling pretty frequently with dialogue when i was younger and too often feeling like it lacked character in general, not to mention being IN CHARACTER for whoever was saying it… if that makes sense bc i am full full rambling

#ceo of yap city #dat ask #personal

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cosmiccannibalcamille · 10 months ago

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YOUR September Horoscope

Somehow we’ve found ourselves in month nine of 2024, celebrating the 9th new moon of the year. That’s right, it is officially September. How we got from January to now, I’ll never know, but what I do know is that this month has its fair share of planetary transits. And there is at least one planetary transit that is guaranteed to shake up your world even more than the realization that summer is nearly o-v-e-r.

No, it’s not Uranus retrograde, which kicks off the month. It’s not even the Virgo new moon on Sept. 2 (aka today) or eclipse season, which starts Sept. 17. It’s Pluto retrograde in Capricorn. That’s right, the outer planets—Uranus, Saturn, Neptune, and now Pluto—are all in retrograde motion, meaning the universe is hitting rewind on some unresolved issues. If you thought you had tied up loose ends, think again. This month is all about revisiting the past, making necessary tweaks, and maybe even giving the cosmic middle finger to anything that’s holding you back.

These retrogrades have already impacted me! My book release for Jupiter Returns has been pushed back a few days, but it is very nearly finished and I CANNOT be more excited. (Seriously, as we’ve finalizing edits and formatting for the novel, I’ve just fallen more in love with it. It’s hilarious! It’s heartfelt! And it’s soooo much fun!! I’ll be posting another chapter of the novel THIS WEEK). Anyway, that’s the general gist of September. Here’s the actual astrology:

Sept. 1 - Uranus stations retrograde, 27°

Sept. 1 - Pluto Rx re-enters Capricorn, 29°

Sept. 2 - Virgo New Moon, 11°

Sept. 4 - Mars enters Cancer

Sept. 9 - Mercury enters Virgo

Sept. 17 – Eclipse season begins with Lunar Eclipse in Pisces, 25°

Sept. 22 - Sun enters Libra

Sept. 22 - Venus enters Scorpio

Sept. 26 - Mercury enters Libra

As you can see, I have not gone into great, GREAT detail about each and every planetary transit happening this month; I save such things for the weekly forecast. However, because this month essentially starts on a new week, I’ll go into those details as I explore the major astrology in the works. That said, let’s dive in, shall we?

Sept. 1 - Pluto & Uranus Rx

On September 1st, Uranus joins the retrograde parade, staying in reverse until January 2025. This pulls focus to the Taurus part of your chart, and all the ways you are still yearning to either shake things up, wake things up, or rebel against the status quo and do things differently. Also happening on Sept. 1, Pluto re-enters Capricorn for one final hurrah before it takes up permanent residence in Aquarius on November 19th.

Pluto’s last lap in the 29th degree of Capricorn is like a final exam on the lessons of stability, power, and transformation. The 29th degree is a fame degree, a critical degree, and an anaretic degree. You might be reckoning with something BIG. (Your horoscope for Anaretic Pluto Retrograde in Capricorn drops this Friday!)

Expect some pushback this month, especially when it comes to transformation. The status quo isn’t going down without a fight, so brace yourself for some serious resistance—whether in your personal life or the world at large. But remember, this is the turning point. Are you ready to step into the new world, or are you clinging to the past like a millennial with a flip phone?

Sept. 2 - Virgo New Moon

Feeling a little sluggish? You’re not alone. The New Moon in Virgo on Sept. 2 is all about getting your life in order, but with Mars in Gemini squaring Neptune Rx in Pisces, it might feel like you’re trying to organize a sock drawer while underwater. The vibe is sober, maybe even a bit blah, so make sure you’re taking care of yourself—physically and mentally. It’s all about balanced living right now, so eat your veggies and keep your energy levels in check. You’ll thank yourself later. Get YOUR Virgo New Moon horoscope here.

Sept. 7 - 14 - Mid-Month Musings

September 7th to 9th is when things start to get interesting. Mercury in Leo squares Uranus in Taurus, and the Sun in Virgo opposes Saturn in Pisces. Translation: your curiosity is piqued, and you’ve got the discipline to tackle those big, overwhelming tasks you’ve been avoiding. New solutions might come out of nowhere—be open to them. By the 9th, Mercury slips into Virgo, urging you to methodically sort through whatever insights you’ve just stumbled upon.

By September 12th, the Sun squares Jupiter, and Venus trines it on Sept. 14. This is your cosmic green light to finally tackle those projects you’ve been neglecting. Want to bring some beauty and harmony into your daily grind? Now’s the time. Just don’t go overboard with the indulgences—Jupiter can be a bit of a glutton.

Get the FULL SCOOP on the astrology of September (including your HOROSCOPE) on The Cosmic Almanac

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thepoehoes · 1 year ago

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hello hi welcome to unhinged recaps. todays’s episode is chapter 18 aka tears are streaming down my face.

of course we start off this page with Annabella immediately getting chomped on by her big body built rogue boyfriend because what other way is there to start this? did you expect normal circumstance? you seriously need to stop doing that.

so, Mr. Scorpion wants to play a lil game with Bella, he’s always been a fan of twister and wants to put her ass through the works. he’s a fucking weirdo but he’s hot so it’s okay. anyways, he’s got a grip on her and starts whispering something about “little rabbit” as if we aren’t in the room.

like, sir, aren’t you watching where you’re going? don’t you see us right here? keep your possessive little prey nicknames to yourself idc how hot they are.

he’s pulling all these touchy talky tactics and Bella is going through it. you’d think that someone like her who is already in the trenches because, let’s not forget, her mom is literally missing and doing fuckall in the middle of nowhere, would be like “mm get off” but no. Bella is thriving. good for her.

Damon, being a large gremlin, is getting his hands all over her which they both enjoy. he’s acting like a man dying of thirst with the way he’s kissing her. someone get this man real water before he gets cotton mouth bro i stg.

all his kissing, touching, and sucking has got Bella trembling like a literal leaf. her body is electrifying itself, she’s overheating, she’s combusting and exploding at the seems. she is hotter then the drama between Lana del Rey and Lorde all because Damon’s got both magic fingers and magic tongue. bro is a wizard.

Damon’s got Bella in the hot tub and he’s legit right in between her legs, she’s spread eagle like Patrick Star in fishnets. He’s down there having the time of his life being a sex God or some shit but he wants more. he wants to hear Bella beg a little but ofc it’s never that simple.

Bella is not one to beg, she ain’t no little bitch. she’s a soldier who can take her pleasure into her own hands so she attempts, keyword being attempts. legit the second her fingers touched her own clit Damon gets more offended than white girls who didn’t get those Valentine’s Day Stanley cups.

she is, quite literally, shaking in need but Damon doesn’t give a shit. if she didn’t say please, his tongue would simply leave the function (her clit) and she’s be stuck there for ages. after some denial and pinning down though Bella gives in and lets out that little please Damon’s been hounding for.

you get the picture at this point. sex freaks start doing sex things. Damon worships Bella both inside and out, she figures out she can squirt and nearly drowns the whole god damn building, then they get out the water and go to their room.

now, I wanna point out that at this point in the story we don’t get much of Damon’s history other then the gang he’s in and his dads a cunt. when he plops Bella onto the bed she gets a good look at his back and what does she see? scars. whip scars.

bro has whip scars like he’s James Alexander Malcom Mackenzie Fraser, the old scotland special.

anyways, it’s drama. drama trauma drama, very sad shit is said. not only is Damon’s dad a dick he is also an abuser. i wish death upon this man but that’s too merciful so we need to come up with a better plan.

after they have their little turmoil moment they pass tf out and sleep like normal people. this is the most normal behavior i’ve seen either of them display the entire fucking book. next morning Bella wakes up wondering “hey where’s my big ass damn ass boyfriend” and assumes he’s downstairs whipping it up in the kitchen but uh oh, he’s not there. the other girlies are lingering around but Damon is no where in sight because ofc he isn’t. if this was normal circumstance, he’d be there but we established that normal doesn’t EXIST.

Bella asked the other members of The Bad Girls Club where her lil freak is and they tell her they’re not sure. they notice his car is gone and try to justify it, but that’s when the smart himbo aka JJ connects the dots and realizes that Damon isn’t just taking a stroll, he’s fucking missing.

immediately alarms go off. the white boy is gone, someone save him. oh, and JJ tells Bella that a group called Black Ace is ACTIVELY OUT FOR DAMON.

my brother in Christ, be so fucking for real. why admit this now? why wait 295839938 days to tell her that? literally get away from me.

now normally someone would call the cops, someone would call 911 to report Damon missing but we can’t do that. let’s remember these idiots, minus Bella and Maisie, are all part of a criminal gang because of course they are. have you been listening? ITS NEVER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCE.

back on track. everyone is in a panic, Bella is legit on the verge of a breakdown. she’s about to become as depressed as Bella Swan and we can’t have that. naturally, they pack up and haul off and JJ is honestly at more of a turmoil than Bella. he is truly about to flip the car but Maisie, being a boss ass bitch, tells him to chillax. they fly 90 down the road trying to figure out what’s wrong, where’s Damon, what’s happening. Bella thinks he’s dead, JJ is ready to rip heads off, Maisie is worried, and Matt just wants to go home.

#freematt2024

anyways, they find Damon’s crashed ass beat busted up Mercedes in the middle of some random field. ofc this happened, why wouldn’t it? he is prime crashing and kidnapping material, if I saw a face like his i’d snatch him up to. this isn’t about me kidnapping him tho, this is about the book.

so yeah, the car is found but Damon is no where to be seen. again. all he does is fucking disappear like dude, get a grip it’s not hard to stay in one place. seek church or therapy for your ghostly disappearing issues and stop pissing me off. i love him so much.

with no Damon in the broken car JJ, Matt, and Bella start tweaking because holy fuck he’s gone… and that’s where the chapter ends. you get no more context and instead we suffer until next chapter.

thank you for coming to the yap session, i am in your ceiling

- Sofi

(raven when i catch you)

#dark romance #his dark obsession #rxvengirl #yapping #unhinged #unhinged recap #wattpad original #wattpad romance #someone come get yalls groupie of idiots #i love them so much that i can’t stand them

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treeoflilac · 1 month ago

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🌈🧿 Divinely channeled message that was meant to find you. if you see this, you are meant to.

especially if you have been seeing numbers mirroring each other. 212, 727, 303, 404, 747, etc. or the numbers 888, 1111, 444, 666, 999, and 00000

if you are feeling alone, like people and the Divine aren't hearing you, that you have to solve your problems all on your own, that you prayed for something to happen, and you were convinced somehow that you had to make it come true all on your own. or you had to just grin and bear the disrespect, the pain, the burdens... Source AKA The Most High, and the gods and angels, and your ancestors. they hear you. they see you. they feel you. they see your troubles, your worries, your pain. they FEEL your pain like their own. they bear witness to it out of pure love for you

they LOVE you. they love you FOR you. not for what you do. they see you with only adoration, respect, and know you only ever try your best. you only ever try to do the right thing, for yourself, for others, for the highest good

even when you're angry, hurt, in immense pain... they know you only ever try to treat others fairly. that you only ever want to do the right thing. that when you see others suffering the same as you, you do your best to help. you try so hard to let others know they're loved and supported. that they're gonna be okay

even when at the end of it, you have to go home and lay in bed and try not to spiral. that you wake up feeling drained, that you dread doing your responsibilities because you feel like you have to handle everything yourself. and there are times everyone expects you to do everything. expects you to listen, to problem solve for them, to lift their heaviness, to help. even when you are so obviously exhausted. even when you don't show up the way you used to. even when they can tell you were just sobbing in the bathroom. even when they can tell you're trying so hard to be okay when it just isn't. and you have to push on

I don't know who needs to hear this, but you're not garbage. you don't have to pick up after everyone. you don't have to even listen to them talk about their problems if you don't have the energy. even if they're your best friend! even if they treat you with only kindness and respect. ESPECIALLY if they do not give you even a fraction of the same kindess, respect, and love

you're deserving of SO. MUCH. MORE. more than just crumbs and leftovers. you're deserving of brand new beginnings. you deserve what you've been wanting to buy that would make life easier. good food. you deserve accomodations without being shamed, without you having to justify why. if you need somebody to carry what you can't. if you need to let somebody else handle what you just can't today. you're allowed to give yourself the rest you need

you deserve being the first person thought of when a beautiful sunset happens. you deserve gifts, compliments, reminders you're loved for who you are. for no reason other than they care about you. not for what they want in return

and if you feel you take more than you give, even when you give so much more than one person could ever take. this is why when you ask for help, that you feel it's asking the unrealistic, asking for too much... like no actually. you deserve help inherently. you deserve to not be in pain inherently. you deserve to not be shamed, to not be called names, to not be expected for you to do everything all at once. because it's not realistic for you to fix everything, to be everyone's healer, to be there for all you come across with similar struggles

and this can even be mirrored in people that genuinely love and care about you. people you know would never knowingly hurt you. and there have been times they have. and you put their pain first before thinking about your own. and I know it comes from a trauma response of being in survival mode for so long

when your own pain was far too much to even acknowledge. when you just spent so long trying everything you could to solve your own problems, and still they were there. and still you were struggling. and you didn't know what to do but you found a way to cope anyways

and I know it's been hard. I know. your angels, your guides, the gods, and Source knows. they see how others are trying to tear you down when all you ever do is illuminate and shine so bright. when all you ever do is the right thing. even when you make mistakes, or are wrong, or hurt others as a kneejerk reaction to the pain you're already in.

know that those who have done you wrong, have acted primarily out of anger, jealousy, hatred, and doubt of your true self towards you... know they are under Divine Judgement. and part of that Judgement is to admit all of their wrongs to you or publically. and if they refuse, because everybody has free will, then the Divine will illuminate it in your life one way or another

whether it be connecting with somebody you love and how they have had similar struggles, and you seeing so clearly how it wasn't their fault. how they try so hard, and it's unfair what others expect from them when they're already dealing with so much

whether it be a TV show and you really resonate with a character, and you see their growth and you realize it's all meant to work out for the better

it can be somebody else speaking their truth. it can be somebody sharing their story and seeing how they came out the other side better. how they have grown, how they have faced adversities just like yours in ways you have responded. with wit. strength. wisdom. love. above all, love. for yourself. for your family. for your friends. for your dog. for what's right

so please, just trust the process. know that those continuing to wrong you, after being warned over and over. after being stopped over and over. after being told by the Divine "if you do this again, you will awaken what you didn't know could BE awakened. and it will only end in your destruction."

you're destined for victory. you're destined for love. you are protected by ANCIENT forces. forces older than the stars and moon. forces that love you. forces that will not hesitate to fuck a bitch up for you.

Nyx, the Mother of All Darkness and Night. one of the oldest beings that exist. she is here and is always there with you no matter what. she is not evil. and not to be feared. she cares for you. she wants you to know to not be afraid of the darkness. not within you or around you. that you are safe no matter how dark it is, physically or spiritually. emotionally or intellectually.

Erebus, also of the Night. the Force of The Underworld. the force that beckons others to the unknown. the Force of Unknown Himself. the one who shows you what fears are. he wants you to know that your fears do not comtrol you. that they do not have power over you. stop running from them. you control yourself. and he knows you have been through so much pain and suffering. though starting something new you're passionate about will alleviate that suffering. trust the process. if you're not good at it immediately, that's okay. you're here to learn. you're here to have fun. you're here to love and enjoy the process. trust the journey. the destination is not to be feared 🤍

when Erubus and Nyx met, they saw each other in each other. they knew so clearly the other was just like them. in harmony, they fell in love with each other, and having sex, The First Light was born

so even in darkness, even in pain, even in suffering, it just takes the tiniest spark of light, of love, to illuminate the entire darkness and guide your way. let your spark guide you 🔥 don't let your flame die out

know you got this, and you'll be okay. trust the process. Justice is on its way 🪶💗🌈🍇

#diary log #divine messenger #channeled message #psychic medium messages #trans is divine #divine healing #angel numbers #divine energy #lightworker message #chosen 144 #✉️

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koushirouizumi · 2 years ago

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youtube

#koushirouizumi ref #koushirouizumi no rb #koushirouizumi toei ref #koushirouizumi bandai ref #koushirouizumi us dubs ref #(I'm only 10 min into this but)#(YOU ALL HAVE GOT TO WATCH THIS)#(There's a 2nd part too!!)#(Disclaimer I've only seen first few Chs of this one in U.S. Shonen Jumps and that was a While ago by now)#(But I also finished watching the WHOLE Lost ep they dug up and)#(This is WILD)#(Anyone who tries to convince someone they 100 percent totally knew Everything abt how US dubs & distribution worked in the 90s)#(has NO IDEA WHAT Theyre Talking About ACTUALLY)#(If You Cannot Tell I Am Super Hyped Watching This Already)#(AKA Things I was NOT EXPECTING to wake up to see today)#(This is a no rb post for now but you can grab it to share on your own)#(Edit : I am now at 18 min mark and ofc its bringing in C@tholicism which negl is a part of the reason I avoided some series back then)#(So yeah this has quite a Bit of spoilers including showing clips from relevant Shounens)#(I can only hope it'll handle religious 'themes' discussion ok enough but aside from that we'll See)#(Edit 22:14 mark tHEY!!! MENTION DGMN *before Pkmn* being popular in N.A. THANK!!!!! For Not Leaving Out Dgmn here!!!!)

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sungchanphile · 2 years ago

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if my wishes came true, it would have been you | mark lee

PAIRING ✧ nct's mark lee x female reader WORD COUNT ✧ 12.0k TAGS ✧ idol!mark x idol!reader, exes!au, exes to lovers!au, really quite angsty, happy ending, fluff, non-linear narrative

PLAYLIST aka SONGS BY YN ✧ the 1 by taylor swift ; 21 by gracie abrams ; i miss you, i'm sorry by gracie abrams ; champagne problems by taylor swift ; in between by gracie ambrams ; somebody by hwasa and loco ; i know it won't work by gracie abrams, dancing with our hands tied (acoustic) by taylor swift

SUMMARY ✧ persist and resist the temptation to ask if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? (alternatively, every single time you and mark get a chance to talk about your breakup, it never goes as planned)

MAY 2021

"NCT are here."

You hum along to the track blasting in your left ear through the singular airpod. It's the first day of your comeback promotions, and while you should feel confident from the many months you'd practiced the song every single day for multiple hours, no amount of time could ever erase the nerves you feel each comeback day.

You're already finished with your hair and makeup, being the first to sit in the chair to give your members some time to wake up from their naps in the van. Though you should all be bright, awake, and preppy for your comeback stage, the reality was that all of you were obliteratingly tired from the near all-nighter in the practice room. Your makeup artists are true magicians for the way they cover up all signs of tiredness even under all those harsh, bright stage lights.

"Unnie, did you hear me?" your youngest member Kali poked your arm incessantly.

"Kali, stop," you whine, pushing her finger away, "I heard you."

"So why didn't you react?"

"Why should I?" you sigh, pausing the track on your phone.

She pauses for a while, choosing to craft her words before replying too hastily, "We should still go and say hi. Haechan is asking if we wanna film a TikTok with them."

"You know they only post with SM idols," you remind her.

"You were in SM too. It's just for fun," she mumbles, "You know how many idols feature on Haechan's private account. Please come."

"You're up to no good, Kali," you squint at her suspiciously, watching the room carefully to see if anyone had overheard. It wasn't really a big deal; all your managers were well-informed, just like your members, and your stylists were basically your friends.

"I already talked to our manager and Haechan talked to their manager," Kali wrapped her fingers around your wrist delicately, but pulling to encourage you to stand up, "Let's go."

The walk to the hallway where the NCT members agreed to meet the two of you wasn't exactly a long one, but the rumblings of nerves bubbling in your stomach made it feel like a million years. You weren't stupid; you knew exactly what to expect and you wouldn't put it past your maknae to meddle in a time like this.

"Oh look, they're here already," Kali was biting a grin behind her words as 3 figures came into view. Haechan gives you a warm smile and a famous bear hug before he was shoved away.

"Noona," you resist a pout as one of the boys you had been taking care of since you were younger wrapped you up in a big hug, "Haven't seen you in so long. Missed you."

"Missed you too Ji. You grow an inch every time I see you," you also resist the urge to ruffle up his perfectly styled purple hair out of fear of getting hunted by his hair stylist, "I like this purple on you."

He gives you an appreciative grin and somehow you still see him as the tiny, shy boy running energetically around the halls of the company building after being chased by his fellow trainees. Jisung moves on to greet your member, who was still in conversation with Haechan.

It's definitely not that you dread having to face Mark Lee. It's totally not the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend. Or the fact that you're still in love with him. Or the fact that he's still in love with you. No, none of that.

Totally.

"You look really pretty, Y/N," he begins slowly, taking in your appearance in front of him, having not seen each other for a few months.

Mark Lee stands in front of you stoic, hands by his side and feet together. It's almost like he's fighting his instinct to wrap you up in his arms like he's done most of his life because you sure know you're having to fight that instinct too.

"Thanks, Mark. I like your blue hair," you smile softly, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Amazing, even. I guess," he's mumbling, running his hands through said hair you just complimented and you can tell he's nervous, "I love the song. And the whole album. I can tell which songs you wrote. You always make me so proud."

Ouch. It stings your heart whenever he says things like that. How could you have let go of someone so sweet?

"Thanks. Congratulations on your first album and coming back with Dream."

"Ah, thanks. I fought so hard to come back to the group and I'm really happy they finally listened to me," he began, "You know how much I love them."

"Yeah, I know."

You're barely meeting his eyes, but when you do, it feels like he's hesitating in his words.

"Mark-"

"Happy birthday by the way," he rushes out, "For yesterday. I'm sorry that I didn't text. Or call."

"It's okay," you reassure him, knowing that that was probably easier for you both that he didn't.

"How did you spend your birthday?"

"The members got me cake. Coffee, my favourite," you recount, "I did a live for a bit, but other than that we were practicing all day for today."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That really sucks," he frowns.

"You know how it goes. I'll have more birthdays to celebrate anyway-"

"But you didn't celebrate last year either!" he protests.

"Maybe next year, then," you pull your lips into a tight smile, "It's okay Mark. Don't worry about it. I'm not really fond of my birthdays anymore and 22's not a big deal."

He sighs while looking at you, "You deserve to celebrate your birthday no matter what. I hope you can find some time to do something for yourself."

You chuckle lightly, "That'll be hard to come by. I don't know how you've done it with multiple groups all these years, Mark. I've only been debuted for three years and it's never got any easier. You were really stretching yourself thin, huh?"

"I guess," he's playing with his fingers, so you know he has something to say.

"Just say it, Mark. Whatever you want to say."

You can read him like a book and you've always been able to. It's not your fault that the book is wide open, as compared to the way you've always been- shut, bound, and locked.

"I just wanted to say I miss you. That's all. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Thanks to the secluded hallway that Haechan had found and led you to, the coast was clear enough for you to close the distance between you and Mark even just by a bit more. His breath hitches as you place a hand on his arm.

"Thanks for caring, Mark. I miss you too."

He smiles at you softly and the two of you are so engrossed in each other to notice that Kali, Haechan and Jisung had disappeared a while ago. You know it's time for you to go back though.

The worst part of the whole situation wasn't the breakup itself. Of course, the breakup hurt both of you for a long time and you don't even think you're recovered. It did happen over a year ago, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part is knowing that every time you meet again, walking away hurts more each time. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do but listen to your heart break with each step you take away from each other. It's the fact that there's nothing you can do about the fact that you still love each other more than anything else in this world.

2014

Mark Lee was known to be SM's golden child. In the future, he'd be known as the most over-worked in the company, due to his talents and resilience, but now, he's just Mark Lee, second to you.

You'd done everything before Mark. You were born first. You moved to Korea first. You beat him joining the company by 6 months and you beat him getting announced as part of SM Rookies just by 7 days.

None of that mattered because it was always just you and him together, wherever. Sure, you trained and practiced separately, but lunchtimes, downtimes, company gatherings- it was always the two of you attached to the hip. There was really nothing the company could say- the two of you were barely 15 so what was the worst you could do?

"How long do you think it'll be before your debut?" the two of you are lying down on the grass in a park a few minutes away from the building. His hands are rifling through the blades, yanking them up every so often, while you made daisy chains quietly.

He hums in response, "I don't know. Soon I hope, but I've only been here for like just over a year. Realistically, I'd say like 2 years. Don't tell anyone I told you, but I heard Johnny hyung talking to the manager about some kind of project that the company has been thinking of for a while. Something about having a group with infinite members!"

Your eyes widened at the thought, "Wow, really? EXO debuted with 12 and I thought that was a lot!"

"Yeah, right? But there are only like 9 of us in SM Rookies right now. How many do you think they'll start with and how am I going to get lines in a song if there's so many of us?"

You nudge him, "Well, with your awesome talent and writing skills of course. I can't wait to see what ends up happening to you guys- oh yeah, by the way, how's that new trainee you guys are training with? Donghyuck, right?"

"New?" he sat up with wide eyes, twisting his body to look at you, "He's been here for like 5 months and it's been the worst 5 months of my life! He's just so infuriating. His voice is amazing, sure, but he never listens and is always talking and hanging off me! I told him that he makes me want to leave the company."

You laugh at his frustrated expression, "Ha, you'd never leave the company. You'd never leave me behind. Plus, I bet you'll be best friends in a few years. Opposites attract and all that."

"Hm, but you and I are quite similar. Don't you think?"

There were definitely some traits that you shared to both be enduring the same path. Resilient, hard-working, brave, and enduring were all ones. After all, it's a big leap of faith to train to have the chance to be an idol just at 12 or 13 with no guaranteed future.

When it came down to it though, you'd like to think that there were also traits you each had that weren't always necessarily opposites all the time, but traits that complemented each other.

Mark liked to talk; you liked to listen. Mark was optimistic and would always be the one to cheer you up on your particularly moody days. You were Mark's calm through it all. Mark loved to rap; you found your passion in singing. Mark liked carrots and would take them off your plate in the cafeteria and swap them with his peas. Mark's hands were calloused from his guitar-playing, while yours were smooth and soft when he held them.

"No, I think we're the perfect example of opposites attract."

"Well then that's why you're my best friend," he grinned over at you while you slid a daisy chain bracelet onto his wrists, "Forever and whenever."

"Always," you grinned.

AUGUST 2021

"What are you doing here?"

"No happy birthday Mark?" he teases, holding a bouquet of flowers and a grocery store plastic bag in his hands on your doorstep.

"Come in before anyone sees you," you pull him inside your dorm, sticking your head out the hallway to see if it was empty, "How did you get here?"

"Relax, Y/N. My manager drove me and I was in all this," he pulls out a mask and a beanie from his pocket to show you.

"Oh, good. Happy birthday, I guess, but what are you doing here?" you question him again, looking at the contents in his grasp.

"Well, it all started when Hyuck said that we were throwing a birthday party for me. Then Jisung invited Kali and obviously, you too. And your members, of course. Then you said you couldn't come because you're busy," his eyes dart to the episode of Modern Family on your TV and the blanket lazily thrown on the couch, combined with your pajamas, "So I didn't want to come to the party anymore."

"But all my members are at your dorm," you frown, "There's still a party?"

"Yeah, I guess. Gives Jisung an opportunity to spend more time with his crush, which I'm sure Kali appreciates."

"So they're hosting your birthday party," you hum, "Without you? And you came here to what? Check that I'm busy?"

"I know you're not busy. Erin told me so, which I suspected anyway. I know it's kind of rude for me to come to force you to spend time with me when you didn't even want to come to my birthday party in the first place, but I thought I would try." he shrugs, "Is that okay?"

Mark is adorned in a white T-shirt and grey joggers. He's clearly not dressed for a party and your member clearly told him that you're staying inside and moping to your comfort show while you try to avoid your ex-boyfriend on his birthday. Plan failed, you guess.

Here's the thing: you've always been the worst at saying no to Mark. The one time you did, the world crashed around you. You would've thought it would have got easier to say no to him after already experiencing the worst-case scenario, but looking into his slightly pleading chocolate eyes shows you otherwise.

"Of course, Mark. You're the birthday boy," you finally say after a period of silence where Mark felt like his heart was thumping out of his chest.

"There's no one else I'd rather spend my birthday with," he hums lightly, even though his words are loaded, "Here, a big bouquet for missing last year too."

The tradition started on his 15th birthday in 2014. Even though it was his birthday, he had got you a bouquet of flowers to thank you for being his best friend of one year and making him feel all the more comfortable in his first year in Korea. You were his dance partner, his classmate, his fellow English speaker, and his best friend. He got you flowers again the next year, then the year after, and again and again for being his partner through everything.

The last birthday you shared with Mark before the two of you broke up was his 20th birthday in 2019 and he had prepared his own bouquet that year, choosing all your favourite flowers and colours and wrapping it all up himself. Mark was selfless like that- thinking of other people even on his birthday.

"It's beautiful," you examine the flowers- pink and red camellias and carnations, white primroses, pink peonies, red roses and baby's breaths. Taking that flower language course with Mark back when you were both 17 comes as a regret now, with the messages he's sending you through the bouquet. You hope it's just a coincidence.

"Anyway, I brought us- or I made my manager buy us- some Oreo ice cream, peanut butter chocolate, some ramen, and chicken and mushroom pastries," he grins as he pulls each one out of the bag, "And I brought cake, obviously."

You hold yourself back from saying what you would say every time he presented your favourite pastry from your childhood home to you- 'you know the way to my heart'.

"I haven't had one in so long," you gasp, taking it from him and preparing your plate already, "Thanks Mark. Why are you so considerate on your own birthday?"

"I like to celebrate the people I love on my birthday too. I wouldn't be me without them," he plops himself on the bar stool at your breakfast bar while you sigh hopelessly. He'll never leave your heart alone, "I wanted to soften the blow too."

You turn to him slowly, "Soften the blow?"

He sees the panic in your eyes and lets out that melodious laugh you've always loved, "Oh, nothing like that. Nothing to tell you. I just wanted to bribe you to talk to me on my birthday. I thought after over a year you might be ready to talk?"

"About what?"

"Us."

You thank the manufacturers of the heavenly pastry slice that only takes 90 seconds in the microwave. You set the plate down in front of Mark and take the seat next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Are you still my best friend?"

"Mark, come on," you began warily, knowing the difficult conversation you were about to have.

He meets your eyes and you feel the pain reflected in them, "When we decided to give our relationship a try when we were 16, we pinky swore that no matter what happens, we'll always be best friends. Always. Right?"

You find the power to break his gaze and stare down to your hands on your lap, "We did."

"So, why can't we go back to being friends? I know, I know when you broke up with me, you said that you don't think we could stay friends. I understood, of course, and I wanted to give you some space. Well, at least initially, but it's been over a year now and I really miss us. Your friendship meant everything to me even if I can't have you as my girlfriend." his tone is heartbreaking in the way that it's vulnerable and pleading.

"I told you when we broke up that breaking up was the hardest choice I'd ever have to make. It blew the choice to leave SM out of the water. I didn't want to break up, but it felt like I had no choice," you explained slowly, "When we first started dating, I knew I already loved you, but growing up together and debuting and going through everything I went through really taught me what real love in real life looked like and I could never have predicted at 16 how I felt for you at 20. Mark, you're everything to me, I hope you know. I said I didn't want to be friends when we broke up because how could I have lived with myself seeing you and talking to you still knowing I had you in the way that I did and knowing I loved you that intensely but not being able to show it anymore? How could I live with myself still having you around knowing I let go of the greatest thing that's ever happened to me?"

Mark Lee was brave at 16 when he kissed you for the first time and asked you to be his girlfriend against all the bans and rules. Mark Lee was brave at 18 watching you walk away from everything you both knew at SM Entertainment and for not running after you to stop you because you both knew it was for the best. Mark Lee was brave at 20 hearing you sob through the phone while you were halfway around the world because you just couldn't do this anymore. Mark Lee is brave at 22, taking your warm hands in his, and Mark Lee is brave when he lifts your chin up to meet his gaze and asks you this:

"Why can't we just get back together? This year apart is hurting us more than it's benefitting us."

People say that the eyes are the windows to the soul- that the eyes say everything someone can't say. Your eyes are filled with tears, yes, but also love and fear and all the emotions in between.

The problem was that your brain always rules your life, keeping your heart's true desires always suppressed deep within.

"Mark," you trail, before he cuts you off.

"I don't see the problem, Y/N. Both our companies knew we were dating and you're not a rookie in the industry anymore. I mean, we dated through your whole rookie era! I acknowledge everything you said and felt when we broke up and I wanted to give you time to work through those emotions, but I'm asking if anything has changed. Has it?"

"I've never stopped loving you, but I'm still scared Mark. I'm even more scared now as your career grows," you say quietly, "I don't want to hurt you. If anything gets out, it won't just hurt you or me, because I could take it if it only hurt me, but it's our members, Mark. You know how fans feel about idols who date and it's never ever as simple as 'if they're a true fan they'll be happy for me'. That's not how the industry works."

He squeezes your hands, "Then we'll get better at sneaking around! You know the boys love you so much and they know how much our relationship meant to me and they'd never ever get in the way of that. Or we can just text and call and I don't even have to see you in person when it's risky. I just want the chance to tell you that I still love you every single day as I promised."

There it is again, the sound of your heart breaking at the most loving boy on the planet.

"Will you let me think about it? At least about being your best friend still? I'm sorry that I can't give you an answer right now on your birthday," you murmur. The confessions from Mark came as no surprise, but he never fails to leave you speechless with no clear thoughts in your brain and your heart always full.

"I'm just asking for a chance. Just for anything you can give me," he smiles finally, "How about we eat all this and continue your Modern Family? It's still my favourite show, so I couldn't dream of a better way to spend my birthday."

"I'd like that."

2015

"I'm debuting," Mark barges into the near-empty practice room, huffing and panting like he just ran a marathon, "Y/N, oh my God!"

You're sat cross-legged on the floor with your phone propped up in front of you. Your eyebrows are stitched together tightly, indicating that you were probably either criticising yourself on a recording or trying to learn a choreography. The moment you realise that it's Mark, your whole body unclenches and you relax as you pause the video. You don't comprehend the weight of his words until he says them again.

"Y/N, Y/N, I'm going to debut!" he's practically screaming in joy as he belly slides towards you and crashes into you, wrapping his arms around you.

"Oh my God, Mark! Really? Tell me everything right now!" you squeeze him back, pride bursting in your chest.

When you both joined SM, you came with the obvious dream of being an idol entertainer. Sure, the company can make all these empty promises to you at the start, but with the way the industry works, nothing is really ever truly for certain. For you, the company had not given you any time scale or idea of what direction they wanted you to go in. You weren't even really that hopeful, considering the company just debuted Red Velvet one year ago, but you were still enduring.

However, it was almost time to debut a new boy group since it had been 3 years and counting since EXO broke into the scene. You were always certain that Mark was always a part of that plan.

"So, do you remember last year when I told you about the infinite boy group idea? It was true! The company gathered all the male trainees and showed them their idea- it's called NCT and it's so cool, trust me! So it's like they're going to debut groups within NCT like different members in each group!"

"Mark, that sounds amazing. Which group are you going to be in?"

"Uh, they said all of them?" Mark frowns in confusion, "Like the first is going to be this unit where members can switch out anytime and it only has a comeback whenever it wants to, and then the second one is like a normal permanent group which I think I'll be with Hyuck and the hyungs, and the third one is a group where we graduate once we hit 20! But I don't think that one's fully confirmed with members yet."

He's running out of breath explaining it to you and his eyes are going crazy so you just laugh and hug tighter, "That's a lot of information, but it still sounds amazing. See Mark, I told you that you're going to be the most important person in this building! You're literally the best."

Mark nudges you so that you break away, "Psh, shut up Y/N. It's still a few months out anyway. We're going to be writing and practicing the debut song for the first unit really soon though."

"And I'm so proud of you," you tell him sincerely, knowing that there are not many people who you can say have worked harder than Mark to achieve their dreams, "Do you feel scared at all?"

He swivels his body so that he's sitting in front of you and he starts playing with your fingers like he always does, "Naturally, I guess. Debuting is a whole new world and being an idol too, but this is what I've been working towards so why shouldn't I be more excited? I've been waiting for this day, but I guess it's human nature to have fear of the unknown."

"It's definitely not wrong to not be scared. I'd be over the moon if they finally tell me I'm going to debut," you sigh dreamily.

"And you will! They can't keep you hidden here any longer and you know that the company loves you so much! You've given everything for them so you deserve it all back," Mark is now rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of your hand, "I can't wait until we achieve our dream together. No matter how long it takes, we'll both be standing on that stage together as idols. It's so close now, Y/N."

You smile softly at the boy, ever the optimist, "I can't wait for it too, Mark. Don't let the fame get to your head so quickly and don't forget me when you're famous okay?"

"You're so silly," Mark laughs, "You'll always be my best friend- wait scratch that-"

"I won't always be your best friend?"

"No! You will! But this is literally the best day ever and I have all this adrenaline and energy right now and if I don't say it now, I don't think I ever will, but all I'm saying is that I've been by your side for nearly 3 years now and you're literally my other half and it's so goddamn obvious that I like you so much and I really want to be your boyfriend. Okay, exhale Mark."

Your eyes widen at his confession and you slide away from him in shock, "Wait, really? You like me? You want to be my boyfriend?"

He looks at you like you just grew two heads, "Y/N, that's literally exactly what I said. Do you like me back?"

Shyness begins to creep out of you while your whole face flushes red. You've never been the type to be shy around Mark, even in the times his words and actions make you feel giddy.

"Mhm, you're my first real crush that developed when we met. I thought I'd grow out of it, but it kept getting stronger the closer we got," you admit.

The first day that Mark Lee walked into the practice rooms and got introduced to the trainees, you thought he was the cutest boy in the world. He was dorky and shy at first, but when he performed in front of you, he turned into a completely different person that made you fall for him even more.

The two of you were the same age and he was your deskmate in Korean lessons. Though Mark had grown up speaking Korean, he had never lived in Korea speaking it almost 100% of the time, so the company thought it would be good for him to join your lessons, especially to get training for the language he would be using as an idol.

The two of you became very fast friends and by the end of the month, you were chasing each other in the cafeteria and sharing food in corners with your own inside jokes.

His face breaks out into a grin, tackling you into a hug, "Aw, my little Y/N likes me back!"

You roll your eyes playfully and shove him off your body, "First of all, I'm 3 months older than you, and second of all, you have been spending way too much time with Donghyuck."

"Yeah that little devil rubs off on people," he sighs, "Whatever. Does that mean we're boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

"Wait, wait, wait. We have to consider the implications! Especially if you're debuting soon! Are we going to tell the company? How is this going to work?" you bombard him with questions, playing your part as the realist in this friendship, "Is this a good idea."

"I mean, half the hyungs have secret girlfriends so we can ask them for help and at least it helps that you're in the company with me so if they do find out it's easier to protect the both of us," Mark replies, "I've actually spent a lot of time thinking about this, believe it or not. You keep me up awake at night sometimes."

"You're so cheesy," you mumble, turning away to hide your blushing face, "But I guess I do want to be your girlfriend- but what if we break up? I don't want to lose you as my best friend!"

"How about this then," he extends his pinky out to you, "Let's pinky swear that even if we break up and this relationship goes horribly wrong, we'll be best friends still. Forever and whenever."

His words are dripping with sincerity and it surrounds you like a blanket. There's no one in this world that you trust more than Mark Lee when you entwine your own pink around his and smile at him, "Always."

Your pinkies are still attached a minute later when he's looking at you with a goofy smile.

You glare at him, "What's going on in that big head of yours?"

"If we're dating, then does that mean I can kiss you?"

The thought of kissing Mark had admittedly crossed your mind more than you could bare to say out loud. You wanted to play it off cool- shove him and roll your eyes or something, but truthfully, you really did want to kiss your dorky best friend Mark Lee.

"I mean, I guess," you shrug, "If you want to."

"Ha ha, I do," he starts leaning in closer and your heart is beating faster.

This was it. You were going to kiss your best friend-turned-boyfriend in the middle of a practice room. He was going to be your first kiss too!

Mark's face is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. You can tell he's never done this before with how slowly and nervously he's advancing, but you can see the hope in his eyes.

Your eyes flutter shut. Your lips are almost touching, just ghosting over each others.

"Wait!" you groan as he opens his mouth, "If I'm your first real crush, then who's your first crush overall?"

You smirk, "Jongin-oppa. Duh."

2022

This was the biggest concert of your career. Playing the Olympic Stadium had always just been a distant daydream - something to dream about just to amuse you or occupy time. You'd never thought that you would actually live to see the day when that dream came to fruition.

It wasn't even a realistic dream. No girl groups had ever played their own concert at Jamsil Olympic Stadium, but your group was going to be the first.

Cameras were pointed all around you backstage as you prepared to go on for your opening.

"Leader, give us a pep talk," your bandmate Yana whines while nudging you. You gather in a circle, pretending you're not deafened by the noise of your fans screaming just past the partition, where they're waiting in anticipation.

The 5 of you lean closer, putting your heads together and your hands in the middle. Before that, you make sure to look at their faces carefully and examine each member's expressions.

Jian is a year older than you, but she's nervous as hell and can barely get any words out. You're not worried because she's proven time after time that she's born to be on stage and that she completely transforms in front of an audience showering her in love. Yana seems nervous too, but she's better at hiding it and it comes out through rambles of sometimes unintelligible speech. Erin is gripping her microphone tightly with a poker face, probably recalling all of her raps in her head quickly, even though you know it comes second nature to her. Your youngest, Kali, seems the most excited. That kid is the most fearless idol you've ever met and you're grateful for someone like her on the team.

As for you? Well, you're a mix of all of your members. It's coming up to a decade now since you started training and you still have to take everything that this career throws at you one by one. The feeling backstage is not exactly overwhelming- it's more pride and joy and excitement to be out there and perform the best concert you have to give.

"No one can ever take this away from us. We're the first freaking girl group to host a show here! We've worked so hard for this and we absolutely deserve it. Everyone out there is here for us, so we should give it our all and play the best show ever. Don't let your nerves get to you. Just relax and be the amazing and talented performers I know we all are," you breathe out, "I'm really thankful for you guys and I'm so happy to have you by my side with me for this. We're exactly where we should be. I really love you guys so much. Let's kill it, yeah? 3, 2, 1, Fighting!"

Your members release a chuckle and you all wrap your arms around each other in a group hug. Soon, your cues begin in your in-ear monitors and you break up to take your positions on the platform that will lift you up to the stage.

The concert starts off without a hitch. Everything is perfect and the energy you get as each song progresses is nothing like you've ever felt. The sea of fans is expansive and blinding and you still have to check you're not dreaming every few moments. You eventually settle into the stage and the concert slows down a bit with your solo performances.

Your company had encouraged you all to perform something of your own choosing and while you had a vast repertoire of songs tucked away on your GarageBand, they were mostly unfinished, too personal or waiting to be adapted to your group to go onto your future albums. The song had to be something that would only ever be just for you, but something you could bare to release into the world for everyone else to hear.

Okay, so maybe you let your emotions rule you and get the best of you. Maybe the song you chose was the wrong one to invite your fans to insert themselves into. Maybe it was too personal to sing a song about Mark Lee in front of the biggest crowd you'd ever played in your life, but when else could you?

The baby grand piano is gleaming in the centre of the stage and your blue dress is sparkling from the way the lights hit the crystals adorning the whole slip. You're admittedly more nervous about this, but you think it's more to do with the fact that you know Mark Lee is in the stadium, somewhere.

Your company had warned you that if you wanted to sing this song, you had to do a little speech before that would throw them off your scent, "Hi guys," you pause for their screams, "I know you guys enjoyed Kali's energetic dance and Jian's amazing original song! For my segment, I thought we could have a little chill time and not to dampen your spirits, but I wanted to show you guys this heartbreak track that I wrote after watching too many sad rom-coms. I really hope that none of you guys can relate and if anyone ever breaks your heart, just send them my way, okay? I hope you guys enjoy it. This is '21'."

You let out a deep breath and remind yourself that this was the right choice. Your fingers glide over the keys perfectly like it's muscle memory from the year you've been working on the song. You send a prayer to higher beings that Mark won't kill you as you begin the first lines.

"I missed your 21st birthday. I've been up at home; almost tried to call you, don't know if I should. Hate to picture you half-drunk, happy. Hate to think you went out without me. I'm sorry if you blame me, if I were you I would. Thought you'd see it coming, but you never could. I still haven't heard from your family, but you said your mom always loved me."

Mark celebrated your 21st birthday with you. Public dates were not a thing in your relationship, but this man made every effort to make the best out of your situation. He kicked out your members from your dorm after enlisting their help to decorate the place top to bottom in rose gold banners and balloons. After taking cooking lessons for weeks previously, he had then covered your dining table with expensive cloth and filled up two glasses with wine to go with the steak that he had perfectly cooked all for you. He then took you to the couch and serenaded you with a love song about how much you mean to him and how thankful he was for you. On top of all that, you had boxes and boxes of presents to unwrap that were all thoughtful, beautiful, or meaningful. Mark Lee was the perfect boyfriend.

For Mark's 21st birthday, you were sat cross-legged on your sofa with your phone placed on the table in front of you, face up. It was as if you were waiting for him to be the one to call when you were the one who broke his heart just a few weeks earlier and asked to not be friends.

You were drinking the wine that he poured for you on your birthday and you were half-drunk, punching in his number on your keypad, because even though you deleted his number, you already knew it off by heart. There was just something in you that refused to carry it through. You were a coward and Mark Lee celebrated his birthday without you for the first time in 7 years.

"I see the look in your eye and I'm biting my tongue. You were the love of my life since I was young. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under. I get a little bit alone sometimes and I miss you again. I'll be the love of your life inside your head. When the night is over, don't call me up I'm already under."

Later on that night, you're lying wide awake and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that you and Mark had decided to plaster all around your ceiling when you were bored one day. The crowd seemed to love the song thankfully and it was easy to get their energy back up. People placed meaning into everything idols did, so you weren't surprised at the people who were making guesses about your love life and the subject of the song. Whatever, they'd never get it right, anyway.

Your phone ringing cuts through the silence and you curse, hoping it won't wake up the other girls in the dorm. They're probably dead asleep from the high-energy concert anyway.

"You're still up?" his voice is grainy through the speaker.

"You're the one that called. Did you not want me to answer?" you quip back, "It's the adrenaline, I think."

"Touché. I was going to leave a voicemail, but this is better, I guess," Mark uttered, "The concert was amazing, by the way. I'm sorry we didn't come and say hello backstage, but we really enjoyed it."

"Thanks, Mark and thank the boys for me too, okay?" you instruct.

"Mhmm, of course," he replies, "That song you wrote was good, you know. But you might've as well called it 'Mark'."

You're laughing softly at his comment, "I should've changed the number, I know. But shut up- if you know it's for you, then why don't you follow my words? I said don't call me tonight."

"I've never been good at following rules when it comes to you," Mark sighs, "Plus, there's not a lot of times I can just call you up like this. At least I had something to say to you."

"You can always call if you want."

"Would you always answer?"

You pause to think, but Mark takes that as confirmation.

"Have you thought about what I said? 6 months ago when I asked if you wanted to be friends again? Or even get back together?"

"That question keeps me awake every night," you joke, "But today, when I was just looking out at the fans and greeting the idols that came backstage after the concert, it really made me think about how much I wanted to be doing all of this with you. I've always regretted what happened between us because it wasn't a choice I wanted to make. There are no words to describe the way that love manifests in front of you from the fans. I always find myself wishing you were still here by my side."

"Hm, cryptic. Is that an answer to my question or do I have to wait another 6 months to call you up and ask again?"

"How long are you going to keep asking?" you uttered, the feeling of disappointment taking over your body as you still couldn't find the courage to finally give in and allow yourself to be happy.

"Until you say yes again."

JULY 2020

The world was still shut as you knew it, yet you were halfway around the world from the place you grew to call home. Your company was generous to give you two months off to spend with your loved ones, and you chose to spend some time cooped up in your parents' house and your childhood home because even though there were so many quarantining requirements to get between the two countries, you hadn't seen your parents in almost 3 years.

Of course, you missed your members, but you lived with them and would continue to see them nearly every day for as long as you could keep your career going. Of course, you missed Mark, but it's not like you could go and see him anyway with the tough restrictions imposed on the Korean citizens.

There was also one big- scratch that- giant problem looming over your and your company's heads. The bane of your existence and public enemy number 1 Dispatch had dangled over your heads the threat of releasing the photos they had grabbed of you and Mark abroad in Vancouver at the start of the year. It wouldn't have been damning evidence considering it was the only photo set they had acquired of the two of you, but you were holding hands with your eyes clearly in view.

Your companies had threatened to sue, of course, but Dispatch has never been scared. Then, your companies tried to play the guilt-trip card and interrogate them on why they would care to do such a thing when the world was suffering enough as it is. Alas, nothing got through to Dispatch. Eventually, your companies surrendered to pay a preposterous amount to get rid of the problem and it probably didn't even make a dent in SM's savings, but it surely hurt your growing but small company even if SM took the majority of the bill.

It was completely eating you up and tearing your insides to know that because of your slip-up with Mark, the trainees in your company had to get their debut pushed back by a good probable few years.

Mark had been the perfect boyfriend, supporting you through your change to your new company and your short training period before your debut. Mark had been there to metaphorically hold your hand as you got to know the other girls and make lifelong sister bonds out of it. Mark had been there to cheer you on in the early mornings when you were doing your first few stages. Mark had been there when your first comeback did even better than your debut and propelled you to the top of the industry.

So why, oh why, were you thinking about whether being together is good for everyone involved? There you found yourself in a dark room, the phone next to your head as soft cries and hiccups escaped your lips.

"Baby, please tell me what's wrong. I hate when you cry and it's really hurting me that I'm not there with you right now. Do you want me to come there? Cause I will! I'll say I'm sick or something." he's rambling through the phone and you can hear that it's raining heavily in Seoul.

"Mark, you know that I love you right?"

"Of course I do," he coos gently, "And you're my once-in-a-lifetime great love. I love you too, baby. What's wrong?"

You don't even believe the words that come out of your mouth when you whisper them, "I can't do this anymore Mark. I think we need to break up."

"What? Y/N, this is not funny," his voice instantly turns serious.

"I'm sorry Mark, but I'm serious," you're sobbing at this point and you're surprised he can even still understand you, "I really don't want to do this but-"

"So why are you doing this? Look, let's just talk when you get back, okay? You're coming home soon, right? Or I can take a flight there, but baby, don't make these rash decisions- we're just missing each other."

"The guilt is eating me up, Mark," you confess in hushed tones, "I feel like I don't deserve to be happy. And every time I'm with you, I feel only this sense of anxiety about being caught together that I can't shake. I love you so much, Mark, but I don't know why I feel like this."

"Y/N, we've dealt with so much over the years and we've fought through everything together! We can work through this together, I promise. Just give me some time to think about what to do and everything will be okay-" he's crying now too and it breaks your heart to hear it because he barely ever cries, "I'll get the company to pay yours back what you paid to those assholes. Come on, baby."

"Mark," you whimper, "I ruined the company. I don't want to hurt my members either. Even if we admit to dating, imagine the hate that my group will face! I don't want to let them down any more than I already have."

"I'll tell the fans to not hate- Y/N just tell me what I can do to stop whatever this break-up idea in your head is. We're meant to be, Y/N. We're each other's perfect match."

"I don't love you any less, Mark. Please remember that. I need to do this for my members and for my company that took a leap of faith in me. I don't want to walk away from you, but I don't see any other choice. I don't want to hurt you or your members either. I can't be seen with you."

His voice is small and strained, "You're breaking my heart, Y/N."

"And I'm never going to forgive myself for it."

EARLY 2018

This was definitely the hardest decision of your life and it wasn't one that you took lightly either. It was something you had been thinking about for over a year and more intensely when the company started to press you on extending your exclusive training contract.

Herin Seo had entered SM just before you did and she lived and trained with you. She was your best friend outside of Mark and it broke your heart when she left the company only after 4 years in 2017. There were only a few months left on her contract, but she was desperate to get an out and an idol survival show finally gave her the motivation to break free.

Right now, she's taking the seat in front of you after setting down your favourite drinks from your favourite cafe that she still remembers, "Iced vanilla matcha latte for me and an iced oat latte for my best friend."

"You're the best Herin! My treat next time," you promise as you take the first sip. It's been a while since you've come to the café since it hurts to go when it used to be your spot with Herin.

"Well better be soon because I'm leaving in 5 days," she pouts, "I'm sorry I could only come to visit for a short time."

"It's okay. I'm glad to see you anyway after all these months," you grin, "How's settling back in Manchester?"

"I mean it's always been home but it took me a few months to really get to grips with the fact that I wasn't leaving after a week like I did when I would visit during my training. It's really weird to know England is now my permanent home and that I'm going to start school again there," she looks outside the large window that overlooks the river, "I really really miss Seoul."

You take her hand and muster your best comforting smile, "I'm really sorry that things didn't turn out how we wanted them to."

"Ha, it's not your fault Y/N. I mean, you're in the same boat; what are you planning to do with this contract thing?"

You sigh at the age-old question that's been plaguing your mind for months. In fact, your meeting with the company to decide your future was tomorrow and you still had no concrete idea of what you wanted, "I really don't know Herin. SM has been everything I've known for 5 years and everyone I love is at the company. I don't even know how to switch agencies or what happens at other agencies. At the same time, I know they're planning for a group soon, but I have this feeling that I can't shake when I think about it. I look at Jimin and Minjeong and my sweet baby Yizhou and I don't think I'm what the company wants."

"But they've invested so much time and money into you!" Herin furrows her eyebrows, "Surely they're building a group around you, Yizhuo, Koeun, Lami, and Hina! We were a pre-debut team! They can't just disregard all of you guys, right?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," you're fiddling nervously with your hands, "They've been good to me, but they're a business at the end of the day. I'm so torn up and I was thinking you could help me. How did you know that you wanted to leave the company?"

She thinks for a while before answering your question, "Well the survival show was just the reason why I left before my contract was up, but I already knew that I wasn't going to stay on and re-sign. For me, it just felt like I had more to give, but the environment I was in wasn't letting me grow anymore. I felt like there was nothing more I could give to SM. Even though Idol School didn't work out for me, I was still glad that I went."

You nod along to her story, "I haven't told anyone about this Herin. Mark's been bugging me about my terms for re-signing my contract, so I don't think it's even fathomable for him for me to leave."

"It's about you, Y/N. This is your story, your career, and your decision. There are going to be a lot of people that are going to be hurt or angry, but they will never understand what you're going through. Especially not the people who already debuted," Herin advises, "Look, talk about it with Mark tonight, and don't leave it until after your meeting because that might hurt more, but if he really loved you and wanted what's best for you, he would trust in your decision."

"You're right Herin. Thanks for being there for me."

So, you called Mark later on that night to come over. You had cooked up a few dishes for you to share and asked your dorm mates if they could give you a few hours for some alone time. Telling Mark was definitely going to be hard, but you couldn't imagine the conversation with the girls, who were going to be the most hurt. You remember when Herin left- you weren't angry, but you were overwhelmingly sad about the thought of the girl you started your journey with not being there anymore. That was when you started to question if you should still be there too, but you were scared to instill this thought in your other younger trainees that maybe thought they still had a chance.

"Hi baby," Mark is beaming when you open the door to him. He quickly shuts the door behind him with his foot and wraps you up in a tight hug, making sure to plant a kiss on your lips and then all over your face, "I missed your gorgeous face so much- oh my God the apartment smells so good! What did you cook?"

"Just some beef and rice," you lead him over to the dining table with the food set out already.

"Oh my gosh, you're so amazing," Mark smooches your cheek affectionately and takes his seat on the table. You had lived at the dorm for your whole time at SM and along the way, Mark had chosen his own seat at your dining table for when you had dinners inside, which was almost every date you shared.

You start with small talk, letting him eat and enjoy his meal before you inevitably break a little bit of his precious heart. You hadn't seen Mark for a few days since he was busy with some schedules, so he tells you all about the boys and what they've been up to recently. They're working on the biggest project NCT has ever done so far- a full 18-member release- and it's going spectacularly well. The album itself was a few weeks out, but each unit had been dropping some songs along the way.

"Babe, the company is throwing a release party when the album drops in a few weeks! Isn't that so exciting? They actually asked us what food we want at the party so we're all going crazy. I think Hyuck asked for a fondue fountain, so I'm dying to see if they'll actually give that," he's chuckling, halfway through his plate, "Do you have any special requests?"

Okay, deep breath. Now's the time. It's all or nothing.

"Actually Mark, I invited you over to talk about something," you begin and the smile on his face drops at your warning tone, "Please don't be upset with me."

"Ah, what's wrong?" he's pouting and you have to look away to get the strength to say what you need to. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would find some reason to convince you to stay just for him.

"My contract meeting is tomorrow," you gulp, "I'm going to leave the company, Mark."

The sound of his chair scraping against the floor makes you cringe, "What? Y/N, what? What do you mean you're leaving the company? Where are you going to go? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just made up my mind today, Mark. I'm sorry I didn't confide in you, but this was a decision I had to make for myself," tears are welling up along your lash line, "I spoke to Herin today and I realised that the only thing making me stay any longer was you."

"But you're so close to debut!" he's arguing pleadingly, crouching beside you and holding your hand, "Babe, I can't imagine this company without you."

"I'm not Mark. You know that I'm not any closer to debut than I was when I joined 5 years ago. You're indispensable to this company, but I'm really not," you expressed, "I don't want to leave and I love you, your boys, and my girls, but I think this is what's best for me."

"But where are you going to go?" Mark sniffles, "I love you so much Y/N, but what's going to happen to us?"

You shake your head at his insinuations, "No, Mark. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to us and I'll make sure that whatever company I join will know about us and protect us. I hope you'll find it in you to forgive me for this."

He stands up and wraps his arms around you from above, "I'm sorry for reacting this way Y/N, but there's nothing for you to be sorry for. I trust you, okay? I love you and I want you to do what's best for you. I know I can't make decisions for you, but I'll try my best to support you however I can."

You look up at him with adoration dripping from your eyes, "I love you, Mark. We're going to be okay, yeah?"

He brings his head down and connects your lips in the most love-filled way that your heart explodes in that familiar overwhelming feeling that Mark always seems to do to you, "We're going to be okay, baby."

LATE 2022

The world was playing a sick joke on you- it really was. There was no way your whole career wasn't just some April Fools' prank or that you weren't just the main target of some joke show.

You always prided yourself on being close with the company's staff and higher-ups. As a leader of your group, you felt that it was integral to your success that you were able to communicate your wishes and worries to the company and this gave you more creative freedom too. Apparently, the company too was getting more comfortable with you.

"What did you just say?" your eyes were incredulous, peering towards your sheepish CEO, "That's actually the worst idea I've ever heard in my life."

"Look, Y/N, you wanted a feature on your song," your CEO chuckles at your response, "I think this is an amazing idea."

"You're literally giving Dispatch a green light to release those photos. Do you want me to email you a picture of me and Mark making out so you can just tweet it from the official account?" you counter, "Why in the hell would having my ex-boyfriend feature on my solo debut title track be anything short of a terrible idea?"

"Mark is incredibly famous and incredibly talented," she begins, counting with her fingers, "You have high standards. We have a good relationship with SM Entertainment. Your fans love shipping the two of you together since you're in the same age group."

"He's also my ex-boyfriend. Is that not extremely problematic? Everyone will hyper analyse every interaction we have or have had and then they're actually going to figure out that we dated." you ponder, "The worst part of this all is that I know he would say yes if his company lets him."

"Exactly- he's your ex-boyfriend, not your current one. By all logic, he's now just another fellow idol or colleague that you can collaborate with. Anyway, SM will definitely say yes; look how many of their idols are in relationships or at least feature on tracks."

"This is all Crush and Joy's fault," you groan, looking at the pleased expression on your CEO's face knowing that she had won the argument.

When your company proposed the idea of having a solo debut to you half a year ago, you had vehemently declined the opportunity, citing it wouldn't be beneficial to your group as a whole and that you wanted to be known for your group and not your individuality. Your members, on the other hand, had different ideas and talked you into at least hearing out the company. You had really only agreed to the debut when they told you that they would give you full musical freedom and the help that you personally requested. It only seemed like a good idea when you realised that someone in the group needs to be the one to start doing solo activities so the rest of the group can follow suit. You've always known that Jian has been curious about acting.

So you find yourself swiveling in your chair in the studio, waiting for Mark to find his way to the room. It's your first time working together for your solo debut and the last time you had spoken to him was a text he sent you asking if you actually wanted him to feature on the track before he gave a response to his company. You begrudgingly replied a yes because even though you still didn't think it was a good idea, you couldn't imagine yourself working with anyone other than Mark. The industry was crazy sometimes.

The knocking on the door snapped you out of your thoughts and you jumped up to open it to Mark Lee holding two cups on the other side.

"Hey pretty. I got us some coffee," he pushes a cup into your hand and you move aside to let him in, "How are you?"

"Don't call me pretty," you mumble as you turn away to hide the blush starting to appear on your cheeks, "But I'm okay. It's getting busier with the holidays coming up, so you know how that is, but the company thought this time was a great time to work on my debut."

"I feel you," Mark grimaces, taking a seat on the other spinning chair, "Don't tell anyone but Dream is actually having another comeback. It's going to be out just before Christmas."

"Another one?" your eyes widen in shock, "But you just released 2 Baddies and I know you definitely have a repackage soon!"

"Yeah, it's hard to be part of both units," he sighs, "Cause our new album will be over 6 months out from Beatbox, but only 3 months from 2 Baddies. Whatever, you know I love what I do."

"Doesn't mean you don't get tired," you cross your arms, "Now I feel bad having you on this track. You are way too busy, Mark! Why didn't you or your company say no?"

He shakes his head to reassure you, "Nah, trust me Y/N; you're exactly the break I need from the boys. Besides, I've never had the chance to formally work with you, so why would I give up the opportunity when it comes? We always made a great team back then."

You smile fondly, thinking about all those times when you and Mark were young teenagers and would huddle up in the practice rooms writing songs together and creating melodies on your guitars.

"I guess we did. Anyway, have a listen to this track. It's just something I wrote a while ago, but it always seemed unfinished so I thought that a feature would complete it," you hand him a pair of headphones and gesture over to your laptop with the track already loaded up, "If you like it, you can do your part in the second verse, but otherwise we can start from scratch."

You watch his face as he listens to the song and you're endeared to find out he still carries the same habit of letting his face do all the talking whenever he's listening to something new. His head is bobbing up and down as he nods along to the song and you can easily tell which parts he likes.

"So, what do you think?" you inquire.

He has a grin on his face, "I love it! Honestly! It's a cute song about a crush, I guess?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to go with any song that's lyrically strong for my debut. This song's pretty unassuming and you know how important it is to the companies to have a general public-friendly song," you shrug. They didn't really explicitly give you guidelines, but you knew what the company was really looking for- a hit, "Can you work with that beat? I'll send you the song of course and you don't have to rush or anything."

"I'll see what I can do," Mark teases, "Can I get an insider sneak peek at the rest of the album? You know, feature perks and all of that."

You flush even redder than when he complimented you earlier, "I'm going to be so honest Mark, the whole album is about you. Every song I've written is about you."

He shrugs casually, "I would've figured. You're a big inspiration to my writing too. Is that a no, then?"

You decide that there was no point shying away from Mark's request, considering that he would end up hearing each and every song whenever your album came out anyway. Plus, the two of you were artists and you understood being each others' muse- good or bad. Mark had seen you in every vulnerable state possible. Showing him your songs that you were comfortable enough to release to the public anyway was nothing to you.

"You can listen."

You don't bother giving Mark any explanations for any song- he's the one that lived through these experiences with you. You leave him with your tracklist on the laptop and tell him you would leave him for a few moments to grab some lunch for the two of you in the company cafeteria. You were hoping it was going to be a quick trip down and back up, but you had run into a producer you were also working with on the album, and that gave Mark at least 5 songs worth of time alone.

What you hadn't expected upon returning was to find Mark crying softly, his sweater paws rubbing at his eyes.

"Mark? Are you crying?"

Your surprise caused him to jump up and frantically wipe away his tears, "Ha. That's a really sad album, huh?"

The guilt continues to eat you up from the inside out, "I'm not going to release all of them, I think. A few sad songs and fill the rest in with inconspicuous tracks."

"Well your songs are beautiful anyway," he gives you a pained smile, "You're an amazing writer. I just wish I wasn't the cause of your pain."

"Hey," you scold softly, bumping his arm with yours, "Don't say that. You were nothing but amazing to me. You made me so happy. It was just the circumstances around us."

He chuckled bitterly to himself, "If we weren't famous- if this industry wasn't so vicious, I would still have you?"

"Mark," you warn, but he cuts you off.

"Have you thought about what I asked you?" he interrupts, "It's been a year, you know? I still miss you."

"Mark, it's not that easy," you counter, "Nothing's changed!"

"It's either you want to be with me or you don't. Don't skirt around it and just tell me the truth, okay? It would really make working together easier if I know where we stand. I won't stop fighting for us until you tell me to stop, so tell me what you want, Y/N," Mark pleads, standing up to face you, "I'm sorry for springing it out of nowhere, but I need to know. I can't move on until I know to let you go."

You hate yourself for what you did to Mark. He was the boy that taught you how to love and how to love patiently, sincerely, and passionately. He was the boy that held your hand and rubbed your back when you cried and the boy that celebrated every success with you. He was the boy that told you how proud he was of you, even every time you felt like the world was collapsing around you. He was the boy who would lay kisses on your forehead and whisper sweet nothings in your ear whenever you faced another setback. He was the boy that made flowers bloom out of your heart from his kind gestures and the way he showed you how much he loved you. And if nothing else, Mark was the boy that made you happy.

You remember a conversation with your youngest member the night before. You had confided in her how nervous you were to work with Mark and she lectured you on finally letting yourself be happy. You were already a 4-year idol and Mark was coming onto 7 years. You weren't rookies anymore and you had solid fanbases. It was clear that the companies weren't extremely opposed to revealing that the two of you were dating back then, so she told you that it would be fine now. Kali told you, rather cliché-ly, that the heart wants what it wants and your heart has been screaming and begging from Mark since the second you ended that phone call with him all those years ago.

"Y/N?"

"Mark," you meet his eyes and melt all over again, "It's you, Mark."

Mark wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you tighter. The other hand reaches up to your face to brush your hair out of your face and cradle your cheek as he brings it up to his own face. Your noses are almost touching as Mark lays it all bare for you, "Do you love me or do you not, Y/N?"

"I do," the feeling is cathartic when you finally tell him and when he finally presses his lips in a searing kiss that sets off all the fireworks in your heart. The feeling of Mark is familiar, but the kiss is longing and hopeful and you can't get enough.

You're both panting when he breaks the kiss and he rests his forehead against yours as he laughs softly in relief. He's been waiting to do that for over 2 years.

"I need you back, Y/N. It's been the worst 2 years of my life," he whispers against your lips, "Please come back."

You smile when he opens his eyes. They're that shade you grew to love all those years ago and they're sparkling like the day he first asked you to be his girlfriend.

Nothing's changed in your environment, that's for sure. What you're also sure about is that each time you see Mark again, you feel a little braver and more courageous. Each time Mark tells you that he loves you even though you shattered his heart like glass, you feel like his love can get you through anything. Maybe you needed those 2 years to see what you were missing or maybe you were just stupid.

Whatever. All you know now is that even 2 years on, Mark Lee is still begging for your love and your brain is losing out in its battle against your heart. It might've taken you two years, but now you see that all you need is Mark Lee by your side to get through the torrential storm that was heading your way and that you were going to get out on the other side to a bright and sunny sky, as long as he was holding your hand and leading you.

You place a kiss on his lips that tells him all he needs to know, "I'm here, Mark. It's always been you. You've always been the one. Always."

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daisyvisions · 3 years ago

Note

i regretg going on your blog to see if you answered my hard thought about sunwoo and I AM YELLING you went to town with it i'm 😩🥴💀 since i'm sleep-deprived, your thoughts on sunwoo + somno? 👀

sunwoo & somno (say that 3 times fast), you have no idea what somno does to me so bare with me on this one 😩

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), somnophilia, everything is consensual

Extra content warning: ⚠️ this fic contains a cnc kink (aka somnphilia ) but please know that consent is key ALWAYS. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

There are only 2 ways that somno with Sunwoo can go: either it's because he misses you OR he's desperate... so let's talk about the desperate version for today, hm?

just a couple of besties having their monthly sleepover: movies, lots of snack, and talking til the sun rises (when I start rapping). But something seems a bit off with Sunwoo and you couldn't figure out what the problem was...

Long story short: he's experiencing a major case of blue balls & had a pretty nasty dream about you (which he didn't expect to happen). And the thought has been running on his mind for WEEKS.

So when he finally saw you, all thoughts came rushing in, feeling a bit of a strain in his crotch. He does his best to hide this from you ofc, it's movie night for fuck sake! Don't make it weird Sunwoo!

You really gotta give this man some credit tho, he's had a boner since he arrived at your place and did what he could to hide it (despite feeling you touch him when you hugged him, your hand touching his when you would pass snacks over his way, etc)

But the one thing Sunwoo dreads for the night is sleeping next to you, because you guys cuddle...

"Sunwoo, why are you so far away?" you whine.

"Oh, it's fine I want some room to rest then we'll cuddle okay? just go to sleep" he kisses your forehead.

You're so tired you don't even bother protesting.

Later that night when Sunwoo does fall asleep also, he shifts around and instinctively cuddles you... which was a mistake because you also shift your body, making your ass move against his crotch and he instantly gets hard AGAIN.

His eyes shoot open, his fear displayed right in front of him. He tries so hard not to groan especially since you keep shifting against him. But what gets him all riled up is when he hears you mention his name while you're asleep, almost sounding like you're moaning tbh

So now he's in a dilemma, to ignore everything or do something about it? You guessed right, he does something about it.

He gently holds your hip, positioning his hard cock between your ass so that he could rut himself against you. He does it very carefully so he doesn't wake you up and cause shit (I mean, he already is but he's way into deep now).

He gets so lost rubbing himself against you he doesn't realize his hand is gripping your core for "stability". But he suddenly snaps out of it because...

"...Sunwoo? What are you doing?"

Shit, you're awake. How will he explain this to you now?

"Uh- Uh, wait I can explai-" he's suddenly cut off when you quickly sit up, turn around and go on top of him. He's so confused what's happening because shouldn't you be mad?

Then you look at him in the eyes and palm his crotch. Sunwoo lets out a shaky moan. The sensation is paused for a bit when he hears you speak,

"You know... if you were horny this whole time, all you had to do was ask."

#sunwoo smut #kim sunwoo #the boyz smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz scenarios #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #tbz drabbles #tbz smut #the boyz scenarios #kpop smut #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo hard hours

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rarepears · 2 years ago

Note

Hello 👋

Since you're answering, can we now know a little more about SJ x TL? Or maybe SJ x WRH? (Is Wangxian still happening?)

Can't wait for another update, your fics are my favorite thing to re read 🥺

Lol I read SJ as Shen Jiu and TL as Tianlang Jun.

I'll spoil some things for Sung Jinwoo X Wen Ruohan, how about that?

With the expansionary policies of the Wen Sect (aka taking over many smaller sects and recruiting rogue cultivators), the other sects take note and do the same. It's very much an imperialistic race to conquer and colonize the other sects (like the European powers slicing up Africa and Asian ahem).

So rogue cultivators? Far and few.

Wei Wuxian's parents thus are part of the Jiang Sect and are still alive in this AU; they were rogue cultivators for a few years until the rather insistent Wen recruiters trying to get their headhunting commission (cough much like how job recruiters today can make big bucks for successful job candidates) so they went back to the Jiang sect to become officially affiliated. They still act much like rogue cultivators, but, you know, being officially affiliated still means something.

Add in Wei Changze's bbf (best buddies forever) status with Jiang Fengmian and you get a Wei Wuxian who's more highly regarded by the cultivation world because who cares as much about social status/class when power is more important - power and money.

(Imperialism and colonialism - or at least for British Empire and I'm still using a wide paintbrush for describing this - the social hierarchy was a lot more flexible for the monopole center. Families gain great status and class with the wealth they could claw from the colonies. Indentured servants who traveled to the Americas worked off their years of service and were able to acquired land and slaves afterwards thanks to good timing and buying cheap land before its value and price skyrocketed.)

With Wen Ruohan serving as a leader for both the cultivation world AND the mortal realm - notice how he's establishing schools and domestic policies that impact tradesmen, roads, local politics, and more? - the cultivation world wakes up to the value of the non-cultivation world and is now imposing more control over the local towns and cities. The extraction of wealth (cough taxes) naturally is one form of control; but propaganda and the flow of information is another.

Does Wangxian happen? Sure, but here it's tainted by the fact that the Lan and Jiang are seeing another opportunity to establish another strong alliance via marriage. There's more eyes on the couple - more to criticize, more that wish to undermine such a relationship, more to gossip. As much as there are those who wish to throw Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji into nice neat boxes of gender expectations, there's those who want to profit off such things (the yellow books, gossip columns, matchmakers who see more opportunities to throw concubines at the two, etc.). The fate of Lan Wangji's mother was a well kept secret... which means that naturally it will get leaked out and weaponized at some point.

The political instability is both a result and response to Wen Ruohan making his imperialistic desires clear and obvious to all. There's more shuffling of cultural norms and more social mobility but there's also more bottom-up movements -religious revivals, fearmongering events (cough like the Salem witch trial) - that are a response to the social chaos and economic unpredictability.

Okay, that's enough rambling from me. Not even sure if all these random thoughts make sense, but here you go.

[More in #THE MARRIED LIFE OF SUNG JINWOO AND WEN RUOHAN AU]

#THE MARRIED LIFE OF SUNG JINWOO AND WEN RUOHAN AU #mdzs #mao dao zu shi #solo leveling #solo leveling ideas #the untamed #sung jinwoo #wen ruohan #wei wuxian #lan wangji

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marblemoovt · 3 years ago

Text

Recipe For A Good Time - Jeff The Killer/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: None, just good ol’ fluff.

Summary:

You own a bakery and Jeff decides to tag along one day to learn how to bake a cake.

Aka: a JTK fanfic that's actually fluffy and wholesome??

------

“Don’t forget that promise you made,” Jeff says.

You open your closet and pick an outfit for the day. Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “What promise?”

Jeff chuckles. “Are you kidding me? You forgot already?” He’s out of bed now and comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel his chest against your head.

You look up and smile sweetly. “I didn’t forget. You’re just terrible at reminding me.” He leans down, his hair tickling your face.

Jeff hums. “Oh sure, blame it on me.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “You promised to teach me how to bake a cake today.” You soak in the affection, your brain still processing his words. Wait…. You did what??

Note:

A majority of the creepypasta reader inserts I see don't involve healthy relationships or there's always the risk of death. If you've read any of my works, which I highly recommend if you haven't, you'll notice that I am partial to fluff. So since I couldn't find what I wanted to read, I wrote it instead. I hope anyone else that's looking for some nice fluff with Jeff appreciates this. I honestly didn't expect the word count to go this high. The story just kinda ran on its own. But hey, more fluff for you guys.

I also recently learned that Jeffrey Woods is actually a fanfic based on Jeffrey Hodek (insert the more you know meme). The Jeff in this fic is the Hodek one, but it doesn't impact the plot too much. I spent a while in the deviant art rabbit hole trying to learn as much as I could about Jeffrey Hodek (who belongs to sesseur), but I'm honestly clueless how to capture his behaviour. I do prefer the Hodek version if anyone was curious. Mainly because that Jeff has a lot more depth to him and his overall story feels more believable.

Happy reading! (＾Ｕ＾)ノ

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

Thump.

Thud.

Thunk.

You shift in your sleep and roll onto your back, bringing the blankets closer when there’s a sudden draft in the room. Footsteps slowly rouse you awake. When you crack open an eye, a heavy weight pins you to your bed. You grunt and try to sit up, but it’s no use. You’re fully awake now, but the darkness in your bedroom robs you of your sight. The metallic scent of blood fills your nostrils, and you groan when you barely make out the eyes staring back at you.

“I could slit your throat, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.” Jeff’s accent greets your ears. You do not have time for his bullshit right now.

“I told you to stop climbing through my window in the middle of the night,” you chastise. Fumbling around, you reach the switch at your bedside and turn on a lamp.

“Hey, beautiful.” Jeff’s straddling your hips, and he’s heavy. Your sleep paralysis demons have nothing on this man. You rub your eyes to adjust them to the light, and you can clearly see the shit-eating grin on his face. A pang of annoyance twinges in your chest.

“Fuck off.” You roll your hips to buck him off, but he grabs your waist and clicks his tongue.

“How about I fuck you instead?” He wraps a hand around your throat, and his nails press against your skin. There isn’t any pressure, but his hold keeps you in place. Jeff doesn’t usually throw himself at you unless he’s come back from a kill.

“You’re high on adrenaline, aren’t you?” Your nose scrunches in distaste at the state of his clothes; they’re definitely going in the wash first thing in the morning. “I have work in a couple of hours.” Owning a bakery means waking up at ungodly hours because you have to wake up before the early risers.

Jeff smirks and squeezes your throat gently. “All I’m hearing is that we have enough time for multiple rounds.” You stare at him. It’s three in the morning, and you need to be up at six to get ready for work. There’s no way you’re going to let Jeff’s horny ass interrupt your sleep.

You firmly grab his wrist. “No, Jeff. Now go shower; you stink.” He releases your neck and pouts. It doesn’t have the desired effect since it still looks like he’s smiling.

“What? You don’t like the smell of blood?” He tugs on his sweater and admires the red stains.

You groan and try to shove him off, but he doesn’t even budge. “I don’t like cleaning it off my sheets either. Shower or leave. Your choice,” you say, giving him an ultimatum. You’re hoping that this will force him off of you. Otherwise, you’ll be sorely tempted to punch that smirk off his face.

Jeff hums and strokes his chin. “You drive a hard bargain, doll. What if I say no?”

You shrug your shoulders. “My house, my rules.”

Jeff puts a hand over his heart. Once again, the downturn of his lips does nothing for you. “Don’t I live here too?” he asks. You scoff, getting cranky from being kept awake.

“Excuse me? Do you contribute to rent? What about the bills?” You place your hands on your hips and frown.

Jeff puts his hands up in surrender and crawls off of you. “Geez, mom. I’m going, I’m going.” You continue to glare at him the entire time he walks to the bathroom, which is located on the other side of your bedroom. You glance at the clock, which you know you shouldn’t do, and curse when you see it’s almost four in the morning. You pull the blanket over your head and shut your eyes. You try to make the most of the two hours you have left.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Babe.” Poke. “Baaaaabee.” A harsher poke this time. You grunt and peek out of the blankets to see Jeff lying next to you on his side, his hand propping up his head. He waves lazily at you.

“You are an absolute menace.” You blink to clear your bleary vision. The sunlight streaming through the curtains is not helping.

Jeff looks amused. “That’s the thanks I get for making sure you don’t sleep in?”

You bolt upright and glance at your alarm clock. 6:15. Shit. “Thanks,” you say, genuinely meaning it. You ruffle Jeff’s hair and add, “you're still a menace.” He rolls his eyes, but the pleased smile on his face is hard to miss. You lean over to kiss his cheek before getting out of bed.

“Don’t forget that promise you made,” Jeff says.

You open your closet and pick an outfit for the day. Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “What promise?”

Jeff chuckles. “Are you kidding me? You forgot already?” He’s out of bed now and comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel his chest against your head.

You look up and smile sweetly. “I didn’t forget. You’re just terrible at reminding me.” He leans down, his hair tickling your face.

“I did? How did you get me to agree to that?” Your tone is full of disbelief. You love Jeff, but he can be a hot mess in the kitchen. You’re assuming that this will translate to baking.

Jeff laughs again, and you feel the rumble from his chest. His arms pull you closer to his body. “Ouch, sweetheart. I ain’t exactly a Michelin star chef, but how hard can a cake be? It’s cake.” You don’t think Jeff realizes how much precision baking requires. You think you’ll have to clean up the mess when he learns the hard way.

“I don’t know. You always find a way to surprise me,” you remark on his uncanny ability to cause trouble.

Jeff shrugs and grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me get ready, and then we can head out.” You turn around and kiss him. Pulling away, you begin stripping and changing into the clothes you picked. Jeff is already dressed, and you suddenly remember that you need to do the laundry before you leave. You head into the bathroom and grab the hamper of dirty clothes.

Jeff follows you and asks, “Can I drive?” You open the washing machine and toss all the clothes inside. Neither you nor Jeff wear much white, so you don’t bother separating your laundry by colour.

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth, remembering what happened the last time you let him drive. Some guy didn’t signal properly and cut him off. The road rage that the incident induced was… interesting. You had to convince Jeff not to do anything rash, refusing to take over the wheel when he wanted to get close to the other car so he could jump over. “...I’ll think about it,” you finally say. Grabbing a Tyde pod, you toss it in with the clothes and shut the door. With one push of a button, the wash cycle starts, and you need to get your ass in the car now if you don’t want to be late. Being your own boss has its perks, but most of your regulars show up around opening, so being late is not an option.

Jeff increases his strides to keep up with your pace. “I promise I won’t get into an accident again! It’s not my fault someone decided to give licences to idiots.” You give him the side-eye, and he shrugs with both hands up.

“Mhmm. Explains why they gave you one, then.” You elbow his side, and he recoils. He holds your hand after you lock the front door.

“I’ll have you know I’m far better than those bozos. I actually have more than one brain cell,” Jeff states.

“Heh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.” You unlock the car and flush when Jeff leans in to whisper into your ear.

“Nah, just need you.”

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The car ride is short. You actually end up letting Jeff drive, and miraculously, no accidents occur. Of course, it was helpful that there were barely any other drivers. Waking up at six means beating traffic and rush hour.

Jeff pulls over and parks in the small parking lot beside the cafe. He’s wearing his usual pair of sunglasses and a face mask.

“See? No accidents.” You can't see his face, but you can hear the pride in his voice.

“Good job, baby,” you compliment him. The tips of his ears and his neck are noticeably red. Jeff doesn’t respond and instead gets out of the car. You follow after him, silently laughing at how stiff his walk is.

You enter the cafe through the back door, which leads directly to the kitchen. There’s a faint smell of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. It’s Fall, and that means pies and pumpkins are very popular right now. Luckily, pies are easy to prepare the day before.

Jeff sticks out in the kitchen like a sore thumb. You’re tempted to take a picture. It’s like someone’s poorly photoshopped him into a stock image. You take off and hang your jacket on the coat rack, rolling up your shirt sleeves. Washing your hands, you tell Jeff to do the same. “Oh, and you can take your glasses and mask off,” you add. He hesitates at that. “Only if you’re comfortable. I do enjoy seeing your handsome face.”

“Shut up,” Jeff grumbles. His appearance has always been a sore spot. There are good days and bad days. Some days Jeff will cover himself up and not leave a single inch of skin exposed. Today seems to be a bad day. You hope to change that.

“Maybe at least your sunglasses so you can see clearly?” You reach out to him. He flinches, which causes you to freeze. You bring your arm back and cradle it to your chest. Clearing your throat, you continue the conversation. “I need to prepare some things for opening. Do you want to help?” You turn around and grab an apron each for the two of you.

“Sure,” Jeff responds. He’s closed himself up behind his walls again, and you have no idea how to get through them. Biting your lip, you hand him the apron, your hand lingering in the air for a while before he snatches it from you.

“I have some frozen cookie dough you can put in the oven. I need to put together the pies and bake those too.” You spin around the kitchen. There’s a nagging feeling that you should be doing something right now. You gasp, “Oh! I can’t forget about the macarons in the fridge!” You spin again and see pie shells littering one of the counters. You spend the next ten minutes frantically travelling back and forth between the kitchen and storefront with cases of macarons.

Jeff finds your stash of cookie dough and looks for a baking tray next. There’s a whole rack of trays next to the oven, along with a box of parchment paper. Grabbing a sheet, he lines a tray and evenly spaces out the unbaked cookies. “Is it always this hectic?” he asks, watching you fuss and complain about how ‘there’s so much to do!’ It reminds him of his mother whenever they had guests visiting.

“Not normally.” You reach over Jeff’s shoulder and preheat the oven. “Those bake for 15 minutes, by the way. Anyway, where was I?” You scan the kitchen, and there’s still the nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something important.

“You were going to teach me how to bake a cake?” Jeff suggests, to which you shake your head. The cookies are in the oven, and the macarons are on display. What did you forget this time?

“I will, but not now. What else am I forgetting?” You notice the minefield of pie shells on the counter, and none of them are filled. “How strong are your arms?” You eye his arms, and though he may not be ripped, you know that Jeff works out.

Jeff examines his arms and shrugs. “I would say they’re pretty strong. Why?”

“I need you to mix enough filling to make 20 pies,” you say. Jeff stands there, stunned for a few seconds before he realizes you’re dead serious.

“What kinda army are you feeding??”

You shrug and casually answer with, “Capitalist slaves.”

Jeff’s eyes are still hidden behind his sunglasses, but you can still feel the disappointment in his stare. “I’m gonna ignore whatever joke you were trying to make. What am I mixing?”

“Apple, mixed berry, and pumpkin!” you list off, counting with your fingers. Your lips quirk into a sly grin. “It’s the season where people treat pumpkin spice like it’s crack, and we’re taking advantage of that.” It’s an unspoken rule that people go crazy over pumpkin spice during Fall. Your latte and pie sales always go through the roof during this season.

“Exploiting addicts? That’s a sleazy move, doll.” There’s a lilt to Jeff’s voice. The grin in his tone makes you feel all fuzzy inside. “I like it.”

“I knew you would approve. I’ve set up all the ingredients; you just have to mix them together.” You walk him to another counter with three gigantic bowls and their respective recipe ingredients. Everything is already measured and weighed. Jeff only has to follow the recipe and mix the right ingredients together. If he can meticulously plan a murder, then surely he can do this. A recipe is basically just a set of instructions. Except, instead of a corpse, you end up with something delicious! Although, you suppose murder can still be delicious if you’re a cannibal….

Jeff stares at the ridiculous amount of apples, berries, and canned pumpkins. He whistles lowly and looks at you. “Shit. You weren’t kidding about 20 pies.” The mountain on the counter has become a regular sight for you. To put it into perspective, an average apple pie uses about five apples. Multiply that by six, and you have a lot of apples (you didn’t feel the need to use actual math, so ‘a lot’ is the correct answer).

You tilt your head to the side. “Why would I joke about that?” You like to mess with him, but your paycheck is riding on these pies.

Jeff shrugs. “I dunno. To fuck with me?”

You shake your head. “Nah. 20 Is the bare minimum right now.” You have flashbacks of customers getting angry at you for running out of pies. Especially those who come near closing. You’re not some magician who conjures a pie whenever someone wants to buy one. There’s a limited amount for each item you can bake in a day. Honestly, food service sucks because customers can be such idiots sometimes. The second perk of being your own boss: you get to kick people out whenever you feel like it.

Jeff’s question pulls you out of your thoughts. “How much do you normally make?”

You drum your fingers on your thighs and blow a raspberry. “At least twice as much, sometimes more.” You give him a rough estimate, but once again, he looks like he’s waiting for the punchline of a joke. “People really like pies,” you say with a shrug.

Jeff picks up a bowl of flour and inspects it closely. “You’re not secretly slipping in cocaine or something, are you?” As if this city isn’t crazy enough. You’re pretty sure that if you laced your products with drugs, some riot would happen. OR , you would create a world-class drug cartel that uses cafes as a front. You think you could pull off a suit and—oh right, Jeff just questioned your baking skills. Offended. You were feeling offended.

Pushing aside any schemes to raise a drug empire, you scoff and cross your arms. “Rude. Is it so far-fetched that my baking is amazing?”

Jeff sets down the flour and leans against the counter. You can feel his gaze wash over you like he’s trying to figure you out. “I don’t know, sweet cheeks. I guess I’ll find out today.” Despite dating for a year, Jeff hasn’t tried any of your baking. He says it’s because he doesn��t have much of a sweet tooth, and you would never push him to try. Anytime he takes baked goods home, it’s for his niece and nephews.

You grimace at the pet name. “I told you to stop calling me that,” you say, and Jeff snickers. He thinks it’s funny because you’re a baker. And while you have to agree with some of his points—you do have a nice ass, thank you very much—the amount of embarrassment it causes is lethal.

“I think it’s fitting.” He appreciatively pats your bottom. You swat his hand away and ignore the heat in your chest that spreads up your neck and face like wildfire.

“Then you need an equally fitting nickname,” you say. Maybe if you come up with something so embarrassing, he’ll have no choice but to stop calling you that horrid name.

Jeff crosses his arms and nods. “Alright. Hit me.”

You stare at him, cycling through the various names in your head. You finally settle on one. “How about hot stuff?” (And no, you’re not making fun of him for that one time he accidentally spilled acid on himself.)

Jeff shakes his head and shuffles his feet. “You can forget about it.” Once again, the tips of his ears glow red. It’s a shame you can’t see the rest of his face.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad,” you say. “Would you prefer if I called you Ghostface?”

Jeff clicks his tongue. “Wrong killer, doll.”

“It was just an example,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. Maybe pleading would work? Yeah! All you have to do is bat your eyelashes at Jeff, and he’ll become putty in your hands. You walk up to him and pout, giving him puppy eyes. Jeff groans and looks up at the ceiling. You hear him mumbling to himself but can’t make out what he’s saying.

Jeff lets out a sigh. “Fine.” His shoulders slump. The counter is supporting a majority of his weight now.

An amused smirk flashes across your face. “Really? You caved in that easily?” You honestly thought he would put up more of a fight. Jeff can be really stubborn at times. A part of you was actually hoping for a challenge.

“Just don’t use it in public. If Liu finds out, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.” You deduce from the groan Jeff lets out that he’s already thinking about the consequences.

You rub his back in a comforting gesture. “If you can handle a few bullets, then a little embarrassment won’t kill you.” You probably should feel bad, but it’s not often that Jeff will let you get away with teasing him.

Jeff chortles. “I think you’re underestimating emotional damage.” And damn, do you try hard not to think about a meme you saw on the internet. You plant a kiss on his jawline and tell him to call for you if he needs anything. As you start to turn, Jeff stops you. “Hey, could you take off my sunglasses for me? I can’t read the recipes with them on.” Before you can ask him why he can’t do it himself, you see that his hands are a mess of sugar, berries, and cornstarch. You’re beginning to think that maybe you expected too much from Jeff because the whisk is sitting on the counter, untouched and clearly visible.

“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to see a thing,” you scold, but it’s lighthearted, and you know he’s rolling his eyes while trying to hold back a smile. You reach up and gently slide the sunglasses off his face, careful to not poke him in the eye with the temples (who decided to name the little arm thingies ‘temples’ anyway?)

His green eyes are striking, and you can’t tear your gaze away. You always did like how pretty they are. You don’t realize you’re staring until Jeff decides to break the silence.

“Hey,” he whispers. His voice is huskier, and you wet your dry lips with your tongue.

“Hi,” you respond in an equally hushed tone. You continue staring, burning the image into your memory. Jeff’s eyes flicker to your parted lips, and a magnetic pull draws you closer to him. Your hand is still firmly gripping his sunglasses while the other has wandered up to his face. You trace where the edges of his mouth are beneath the fabric. You hear his breathing deepen. Deciding to tease him some more, you plant a kiss on his mask.

“Don’t,” Jeff pleads. He sounds so vulnerable that it throws you off for a second. His arms are wrapped around your waist. He’s looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. You can feel the love and adoration he holds for you, and you also know how hesitant he is to show it. While Jeff doesn’t believe that emotions make a person weak, you know that he struggles to communicate his feelings and how to cope with certain ones.

You stroke his cheek, and the mask is smooth under your thumb. “Don’t what?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t make me regret keeping this stupid mask on,” Jeff replies. His eyes are begging you now, and it takes you everything not to pull his mask down and shower him with kisses. His hands are rubbing circles into your waist, and now it’s really hard not to kiss him silly.

You brush some of his hair out of his eyes and grin. “Sounds like you’re already regretting it if you’re calling it stupid,” you point out.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeff’s question is abrupt but straight to the point.

Your fingers toy with the ear loops of his mask. “I was going to if you weren’t.” And that’s all the confirmation he needs. Jeff tugs his mask down and kisses you with fervour. You manage to set his sunglasses on the counter, and your hands instinctively thread his hair. He groans, and you take the opportunity to slip in your tongue, which he enthusiastically greets with his own. It’s all so warm, and the little noises Jeff makes are so pretty, and the way he protests when you tell him that…. It makes you want to spoil him rotten . It’s no surprise that years of little contact with other people has left Jeff with some ‘side-effects’. You know he doesn’t want to label himself as ‘touch-starved,’ so he tries to cover it up with other terms to lighten the implications. But the signs are unmistakable.

Whenever you’re sitting on the couch, Jeff will sit next to you, only to end up with his head in your lap and your fingers massaging his scalp. Every night you find yourself in his embrace, pressed flush against his chest. Sometimes he’ll cling to you in the kitchen while you cook dinner. It was difficult at first to navigate while Jeff clings to you like a baby koala, but now it’s become second nature.

You leave a trail of kisses down his throat, stopping to suck on his pulse point. As you’re making your way toward his shoulder, the oven timer goes off. The sound jumpscares both of you, and you accidentally bite down. Jeff hisses, and you pull away to apologize profusely. Jeff’s arms keep you from moving too far back. You take a moment to admire your handiwork. His lips are swollen, and you’re sure yours are too. His entire body looks flushed, and you can still hear him panting. You smile as you trace the hickey that’s starting to form on his neck. Then you see the bite mark. Oh god . Right between his shoulder and neck are a shallow imprint of your teeth. And honestly? It’s kinda hot.

Jeff clears his throat. “I, uh, better start mixing.” His fingers run over where you tried to take a bite out of him moments ago.

You glance at the clock on the wall and notice that the cafe is supposed to open in ten minutes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll… I’ll bring everything else to the front.” Your head is still feeling a little fuzzy.

“I need you to let go of me if I wanna use my arms.” Jeff’s voice brings some clarity to your mind, and you notice that your hands are still gripping his arms. His very muscular arms. You give them a squeeze, and Jeff coughs to catch your attention.

“Sorry!” You bring your arms to your side and drum your fingers against your thigh again to keep them occupied.” Let me know when the fillings are done, and we can start baking the pies. And please use the whisk this time.”

“You got it, boss.” Jeff salutes with two fingers and presses a kiss to the side of your head before you leave. You remove the cookies from the oven and bring them to the front to cool before you put them on display. Your reflection in the glass display case is a mess, which means you look like a mess right now. You try to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes and tidy your mussed hair.

A loud clatter resonates from the kitchen. It sounds like someone smashed a giant gong.

“Don’t worry about that!” You have to stifle your laughter at the slight panic in Jeff’s voice.

He’s a bigger mess than you are.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The day continues like usual. Your regular customers show up on their way to work and often leave with a drink and a pastry. Jeff managed to mix all the pie fillings in twenty minutes, so now all the pies are sitting on display. They’re selling out like you expected, which is why you set some aside for Jeff. You saw him eying the pies while they were baking, but he declined when you offered him a slice. Declining food when offered the first time seems to be some unspoken rule most humans follow. So now there’s a pie slice of each flavour in a container that you put in the fridge. Jeff stays in the back, mostly because he doesn’t feel like being subjected to the stares he knows he’ll get. You did tell him that you would kick out anyone that looks at him funny, but he only thanked you and said that would be unnecessary.

It’s about time for lunch, and you just finished convincing an elderly woman that you cannot sell her all the pies you currently have because there are other people wanting pies. She argues that it shouldn’t be a problem if she has the money to pay for it all. You manage to compromise on a third of your pies. But still, what does one do with seven pies?? It’s honestly hilarious watching this old woman shimmy out of your cafe with a stack of pies that tower over her. Hopefully, she doesn’t drop any of them on the way to her car. You flip the little sign on the door to ‘closed’ and untie your apron.

“Jeeeeeeeeeeffffff. I have time to teach you how to bake a cake now,” you call out, making your way to the kitchen. You don’t get a response. “Jeff? Helloooo?” You hang your apron by the door and step inside. “You didn’t die while messing around in my kitchen, did you? Cause that would be a really sad way to die, considering how hard it is to kill you.” The fridge starts beeping, and you notice one of its doors is ajar.

“Shit. Would you shut the fuck up? I’m trying to be sneaky here,” Jeff hisses. He’s not talking to you. He’s scolding the fridge.

“And just what are you doing?” You walk up to him and peer behind the door to see what he’s up to.

The fridge slams shut before you can see much. “Just, uh, enjoying the scenery,” Jeff says. If the context wasn’t so ridiculous, you would believe the nonchalance in his tone.

“Of my fridge?” You give him a skeptical look.

Jeff nods solemnly and pats your fridge. “It’s a really nice fridge.” And it is. You managed to snag it while it was on sale. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is the open container you saw inside the fridge.

“You’re not eating the pies you said you didn’t want?” You narrow your eyes, and Jeff shifts around on the spot.

He looks away from you. “Why would I eat something I didn’t want?”

The evidence outweighs his logic. “I don’t know. Why is there whipped cream around your mouth?” You point out the remains of pie on his face. There’s also a fork haphazardly sticking out of his pocket, but you’ll let him have at least a little bit of dignity.

Jeff shrugs. “So I had some whipped cream, big deal.”

“And the pies underneath the whipped cream from the looks of it.” You go to open the fridge, but Jeff leans heavily against the door.

“It’s not my fault that they’re so addicting. You must be slipping something into your pies!”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Yes. I thought we established that it was talent and skill. Do you want to learn how to bake a cake or not?”

Jeff straightens his posture. “I do.”

“Then say I’m the best baker ever, and you love my pies,” you demand with a smirk.

“What? Why?!” Jeff’s face scrunches up, and you school your expression,

“Humour me,” you say.

Jeff’s eyebrows raise, then furrow, followed by a devious grin. “I’m the best baker ever, and you love my pies.”

You shove him playfully and roll your eyes. “Smartass,”

“I’m kidding. Your baking is witchcraft, and your pies are delicious.” He pulls you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head.

“Close enough.” You look at him and silently beg for more kisses. Jeff’s expression softens, and he places another kiss on your forehead. Fuck does this man make you soft. “Did you have any specific type of cake in mind?” you ask, playing with the collar of his shirt.

Jeff ponders. The vibrations from his humming tickle your skin. He replies with, “Something chocolate, and maybe with fruits?” You nod your head. A classic combination.

“Have you ever had a black forest cake?” you ask, not seeing any recognition in his eyes.

“What kinda name for a cake is that?” He rubs a spot of flour from your cheek and takes in your serious expression. “No. I haven’t.”

You place a kiss on his hand in thanks. “It’s basically a chocolate cake with cherries. Does that sound good to you?” The smile on Jeff’s face is infectious, and he’s radiating with warmth and energy. Your chest swells with affection. You would have tried to teach him how to bake earlier if you knew this would be his reaction.

Jeff’s eyes are bright, and he squeezes your waist in excitement. “You had me at chocolate and cherries.”

You grin and kiss his cheek before pulling away. His scar is rough against your lips, but you don't mind at all. Heading to the pantry, you grab all the necessary ingredients and assemble them on the counter. You grab a scale off the shelf, along with a few bowls.

“Ok, so this is a scale. We’re going to use it to weigh our ingredients. Have you ever used one before?” you ask Jeff. He comes up behind you and latches on like a baby koala. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne envelopes you.

“Not for, uh, food,” Jeff answers. You don’t want to know what he’s used a scale for. There was this one time when the grocery store forgot to label the weight of the beef. Jeff grabbed one of the packages and bobbed his hand before giving you a near-perfect estimate. You didn’t want to ask how he developed that particular skill. Instead, you thanked him and made roast beef for dinner to preserve your sanity.

“The process is pretty much the same. You can measure all the dry ingredients and mix them together. I’m going to mix the wet ingredients.” Jeff reluctantly releases you and carefully measures the flour and cocoa while you mix the vanilla and oil in a separate bowl.

Jeff pours some sugar and stops when the scale reaches the right weight. “Is there a reason we’re not using measuring cups?” he asks.

“You can, but I prefer weighing. Less chance of messing up,” you reply, adding buttermilk to your mixture. “I do use measuring spoons for stuff like spices.” Jeff nods and reaches for the measuring spoons on the table. He adds baking powder and soda, along with salt, and mixes the dry ingredients together,

Jeff stares at his bowl and then looks at you, lost. “What do I do now?”

“Now we’re going to slowly combine the wet and dry ingredients.” You slowly add the dry ingredients while Jeff mixes. “Yeah, like that. Good job, baby!” you praise him, and the whisk clangs harshly against the metal bowl.

“I’m just moving a whisk. I don’t see what’s so special about that.” Jeff continues to mix aggressively, but it does nothing to hide the redness of his cheeks.

You tilt your head to the side and smile at him. “But this is your first time baking a cake, and I think you’re doing fantastic!”

Jeff gives the batter a final jab before setting the whisk against the bowl. “W-what’s next?” You don’t acknowledge the wobble in his voice and head to the fridge.

“Next, we add the eggs in one at a time. After that, we pour them into pans and pop them into the oven.” You crack in an egg, and Jeff combines it with the batter. This repeats another three times until the batter is a good consistency between thick and runny.

“That’s it?” Jeff furrows his brows, and you bite your lip to hold back a dopey grin.

“Yep,” you nod. Jeff stares at the dark, glossy batter with a searching look. You refrain from saying anything and opt to hum to fill the void of silence. He immediately recognizes the melody of Reflection and shoots you a half-hearted glare. You smile and wave at him.

“I always thought it would be more… complicated,” Jeff admits. There’s something hilarious about how he struggles with domestic activities when he’s an accomplished killer. The man can commit murder and evade the police, but god forbid he has to cook or bake. Although, he is proficient at cleaning—like really proficient. Again, you don’t ask. You’re just thankful the house is always clean when you come home from work.

“Baking can be pretty simple,” you say. Jeff divides the batter between two lined pans and puts them into the oven you preheated earlier. “While those are baking, we can make the whipped cream. I already have some cherry jam and syrup we can use.”

“Can’t you use the stuff they have in cans?” Jeff’s question is innocent enough, but he unknowingly asked you to commit a baking sin.

You let out a horrified gasp and firmly place a hand on his shoulder. “My dear Jeffrey. Fear not. I will show you the wonders of whipped cream made from scratch.”

Jeff chuckles at your determined expression. “When you tell me to fear not, I will fear anyway.” He boops your nose, causing you to scrunch it in response

You grin and push him towards the shelves. “Can you grab the hand mixer while I get the cream and sugar?”

“Yes, boss.” Jeff mock salutes and marches the five-step journey to the hand mixer. You giggle at his silliness, and the way his expression brightens does not go unnoticed.

“Alright, we’re going to add some sugar and vanilla to our cream before we whip it.” You eyeball the amount of powdered sugar and add a splash of vanilla extract.

“Ooh, sounds kinky,” Jeff teases. You shake your head, but you can’t stop the smile stretching across your face.

“Pay attention,” you admonish. “This is the step where you can make the final adjustments to the taste.” You dip your pinkie into the mixture and pop it into your mouth. The cream is sweet but not enough to make your teeth ache. The rich taste of vanilla is always a delight. You hum a noise of approval and turn towards Jeff. “I think it’s sweet enough. What do you—”

Jeff kisses you, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He pulls away and licks his lips. “Mhmm, tastes good to me.” His smug grin douses gasoline on the fire consuming your body.

“Jeffrey Hodek, you are an absolute menace.” He’s going to be the death of you, and he won’t even have to stab or shoot you to do it.

“Always the same song and dance with you, doll. I know you liked it.” And to prove his point, he kisses you again. The way his tongue runs over your gums elicits a moan from you. He pulls away, and you avoid eye contact. The smirk on his face is baiting you for another kiss.

“Whip cream. Now .” Your tone is firm. Any more teasing and you might just combust.

“Alright, alright.” Jeff picks up the hand mixer and sets it into the bowl. He’s about to turn it on but pauses. “And how do I know when to stop?”

“When you get stiff peaks.” And you immediately realize what you’ve done. Jeff snickers and you become increasingly embarrassed. “It’s not funny!” You cross your arms with a frown.

Jeff bumps his hips lightly against yours. “C’mon, sugar. You have to admit, baking sounds like it has a lotta euphemisms.”

“Just hold the bowl upside-down over your head. If you don’t get drenched in whipped cream, then it’s ready.” If the whipped cream can hold its shape, it should barely move in the bowl.

Jeff blinks and says nothing for a few seconds. His brows furrow and he searches your face. “You’re fucking with me again, right?” He sees the saccharine smile on your lips. “Oh, you’re definitely not fucking with me. What kinda method is that? What if I spill cream everywhere?”

“What was that? Was that… a euphemism ?” You let out a dramatic gasp. “Then I would say you need more practice,” you add with a grin.

“Piss off.” Jeff grunts and turns on the hand mixer.

“Ok! I’ll come back then to check on you during my next break!” You kiss his cheek and make your way back to the front.

Jeff freezes. “B-but the whipped cream?” His voice pitches and you feel a slight pang of pity. He did tease you a lot earlier, so the feeling is soon squashed.

“Stick it in the fridge when it’s done and you’ll be fine!” you say over your shoulder. You give Jeff a thumbs up, and he only replies with an indignant noise.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

“Mrs. Smith, I told you that you can’t buy all my pies.” The old lady who bought seven pies from you is back, and she wants the rest of your stock.

“I’m too old for ‘Mrs’ now, dear. Everyone calls me Granny. As I was saying, I’m holding an annual crochet competition, and I need your pies.” She offers no further explanation, fully expecting you to give in to her demands.

“I’ve already sold you seven pies. Surely you don’t need all of them,” you say with exasperation in your tone. Your reasoning only increases her determination.

“Baker, I am going into a crochet competition, and I need all your pies.” You can only assume the pies are for herself, and what does someone even do with 20 pies?

“You can’t eat all those pies, Mrs. Smith. There are too many,” you tell her. But it seems your insistence is only agitating her.

“I’m telling you, dear, I’m going into a crochet competition! I’m going into a crochet competition, and I need all your pies if I’m to win!” She is hysterical now. Are pies to old ladies who crochet what steroids are to athletes? Even if it is for a group of people, seven pies seem like a reasonable amount to you.

Still, you refuse. “I can’t give you all my pies because they’re not meant to be sold in bulk! If I let one person buy all the pies, then that leaves nothing for everyone else.” You could make some quick cash if you sold her all your pies, but there’s something clearly deranged about this woman. Your gut is telling you not to sell her any more pies.

“Well, then that’s it, Baker. I’ll go elsewhere for my pies.” She storms out of the cafe, and the bell above the door smacks against the wooden frame.

“What a weird lady,” you mumble to yourself, unable to shake off the feeling of déjà vu. You glance at the clock and notice it’s 5pm. “I think that’s enough for today.” You untie your apron and drape it across the counter. “Hey, Jeff! I’m closing up the cafe now!” You begin counting the money in the cash register.

“You want any help?” Jeff asks, poking his head from the kitchen doorway.

“Yes, please.” And so Jeff cleans the tables and puts up the chairs. You sweep the floor while Jeff puts away whatever leftovers he can for the next day. Anything that’s not good after a day is often donated to the nearest shelter, or Jeff will take it for the kids to eat. Once the front is cleaned up, it’s time for the kitchen. You walk ahead of Jeff, but he gently grabs your arm and tugs you back.

“Wait here,” Jeff commands. He shields the doorway with his body.

You look at him with suspicion. “You didn’t break something in my kitchen, did you?” Kitchen equipment is stupidly expensive, and you don’t want to replace anything right now.

Jeff scoffs. “I’m not that incompetent.” He takes both of your hands and squeezes them. “Close your eyes.”

You shake your head but follow his instructions. “I’m closing them.” Your shoes squeak as they transition from wood to tile. Jeff leads you steadily inside the kitchen. He lets go of your hands and tells you to wait. You stand there patiently, hearing the rummaging of utensils and plates. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, curiosity turning into anticipation.

“Surprise.” At Jeff’s words, you open your eyes. He’s holding a small bundle of the skewers you use for tiered cakes. At the tips of the skewers are strawberries cut into the shape of roses.

“Jeff… how did—they’re beautiful!” You marvel at the delicate knife work that went into cutting each petal.

Jeff pushes the bouquet towards you. “I got bored after making the whipped cream. Saw the strawberries and thought I could put my knife skills to use,” he says with a shrug.

You reach out to accept the bundle of strawberries but pause. “Your hands!” One of your hands takes the bouquet while the other holds Jeff’s hand. You examine the skin and see small slices. You chew on your bottom lip and look at him for an explanation.

“Just some scratches,” he mumbles and avoids your gaze. “Turns out cutting fruit into flowers takes a lot more dexterity than stabbing people.” He shrugs in a carefree manner. You think back to how long you left Jeff alone and unsupervised. A few hours, at least.

You drag him with you. “I have some bandages in the bathroom—and disinfectant! We need to clean your wounds and—” Jeff stills, and suddenly, you can’t move him. He grips your shoulders.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m fine.” Jeff shows you his hands, turning them over. “See? They’re already sealed. I won’t say no to you kissing them better, though.” His eyes look at you pitifully, and the slight pout on his lips is irresistible.

You make grabby motions at him. “Well, bring them here, then. I’ll give them many smooches.” Jeff puts his hands in front of your face, and you shower them with kisses, cut or no cut. He looks at you like you’re everything to him, and you melt on the spot. This man is too adorable for his own good. “Thank you for the ‘flowers’. It’s very sweet of you.” You resist the urge to eat them right away; the guilt you would feel during the fallout would be tremendous.

Jeff shakes his head and kisses your forehead. “If anyone’s sweet, it’s you, sugar. You could give me a toothache with your sweetness.” You flush under his attention. They say that the human pupil will dilate when looking at a person they like. Jeff’s eyes are a ring of green swallowed by black right now, and you’re sure it’s the same for yourself. There’s something intimate about maintaining eye contact with someone for an extended period of time. You stand there, unable to tear your gaze from his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you pull him in for a kiss. You can feel him smile, and a giggle bubbles in the back of your throat.

You pull away first and place another kiss on his wounded hand. “Alright, hot stuff. Enough flirting, more decorating.” You lead him to the counter where you’ve set everything up beforehand. The ‘flowers’ are placed in a mason jar to keep them upright and out of the way.

Jeff looks intimidated by all the different tools on the counter. You tried to select the bare minimum required for cake decorating. His shoulders loosen when he sees the encouraging smile on your face. “I’ve never decorated a cake before. I’m honestly fucking ecstatic right now,” Jeff says.

“I’ll cut the cake, and you can assemble the layers,” you say, grabbing your trusty knife.

An amused smile crosses Jeff’s face. “I’m the one with the exceptional knife skills.”

You shake your head. “Nuh-uh. Not after you cut yourself up making strawberry roses. Besides, I don’t want you to feel disappointed if the layers end up lopsided.” Cutting a cake into layers can be hard . Why else are there so many hacks and gadgets specifically made for this? There was a time when you used the dental floss method (unflavoured because an unintentionally minty cake is yucky). Now that you’re experienced, you can perfectly level and cut cakes with a knife.

Jeff ponders and says, “So if the cake gets fucked up, it’s your fault.”

“Jeff!”

“That’s basically what you said!” Jeff throws up his hands.

You scoff and shove a baking spatula into his chest. “I’m going to make you eat your words.”

The smirk on his face fans the flames. “Challange accepted, doll.”

“Now shut up and start layering,” you command, already slicing through the second cake.

Jeff examines and turns over the spatula in his hand. “You haven’t told me what to do. Do I just slather shit on the cake? Throw cherries at it? Commit a blood sacrifice?” He pokes you in the ribs, and you jump, nearly stabbing him with the knife you’re holding. You give him the side eye, and he grins like he wasn’t this close to being levelled himself.

“Brush some cherry syrup on the cake before adding a layer of whipped cream. Then add some cherries and the next layer of cake. Rinse and repeat until there are no more layers.” You break the layering down into simple steps, adding any tips you think he would find helpful. Jeff nods, but you can already tell that most of what you said went in one ear and out the other. “Normally, I sacrifice a virgin at the end, but I ran out of stock yesterday,” you say, shrugging in a what-can-you-do manner. Jeff straightens. Well, he definitely heard that step.

Jeff chuckles and begins painting the top of the layer of cake with syrup. “You are fucking adorable.” The smile on his face is full of fondness. Next, he spreads the whipped cream and adds the cherries. “This is oddly satisfying,” Jeff comments, finding the process therapeutic.

“I know, right?! I love decorating, but sometimes I'm too lazy to bake anything.” You laugh at the irony of your statement. You notice Jeff was struggling earlier at spreading an even layer of whipped cream. “Here, let me show you something.” You inch closer, and he takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist. Grabbing the plate of the turntable, you spin it as you smoothly spread whipped cream on the cake.

Jeff’s jaw drops. He looks at you in bewilderment. “It sPiNs?!?!”

You giggle at his reaction and nod. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“No fucking way. I told you. Witchcraft ,” he hisses the last part. Jeff spends the next minute spinning the cake in one direction before spinning it again in the opposite way. He finishes all the layering, and what’s left is a naked cake. “Do we get to add more cherries?” he asks.

“Yeah, give me a minute to pipe some whipped cream at the top,” you answer. You also decide to give the entire cake a thin coat of whipped cream. When Jeff sees you pipe whipped cream, he insists on giving it a try. His first attempt results in a ginormous blob. You smooth it out with the spatula and comfort him while he sulks. The next few attempts have much more control and turn out decent. “Do you want to add more chocolate? I can quickly shave some.”

Jeff grins. “Do you even have to ask?” And so you shave some chocolate while Jeff carefully places the cherries on top of the cake.

“It’s a monstrosity,” you say when you look at the finished product. For some reason, you thought it would be a good idea to give Jeff control over how much chocolate is added. You can barely see the whipped cream beneath all the chocolate shavings. Thankfully, the top is left untouched, so only the sides are buried.

Jeff puffs out his chest. “Yeah, but it’s our monstrosity. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He cuts himself a slice and takes a bite. Too bad this isn’t a cooking anime. You would have liked to see Jeff’s soul dramatically leave his body or whatever weird stimulation the characters go through when they taste a dish. “Holy shit, this should be illegal.”

“Good?” You cut yourself a slice, already knowing his answer.

Jeff takes another bite and closes his eyes. “Fucking delicious .” He moans, and you nearly have a fit over how sexual the sounds he’s making are. You eat your slice slowly, content with watching Jeff enjoy the cake. When he finishes, he immediately goes to cut a second piece.

“Are you going to take the rest to Liu and the kids later?” you ask. If there even is anything left to take. He’s going to demolish the cake at this point.

Jeff grins sheepishly. “Would it be selfish of me to keep this for myself?”

You shrug and wipe away the whipped cream at the corner of his mouth. “I won’t judge you, but the kids will give you hell for it if they ever find out.” Never underestimate the wrath of children. Especially when they discover you withheld sugar from them.

Jeff exhales loudly. “Fuck, you’re right.” He points his fork at you. “I have to get rid of any witnesses to prevent them from finding out.” You lean forward and eat the piece of cake off his fork. Jeff gapes at you while you smugly chew. The mock betrayal in his eyes elicits a giggle from you.

“I can always bake you more, which I won’t be able to if you get rid of me,” you say.

Jeff kisses the side of your head. You whine and try to shove him away, much to his amusement. “You’re contractually obligated to keep that promise now,” he says.

You blink slowly, brushing crumbs out of your hair. “But I didn’t sign anything?”

Jeff caresses your cheek and says, “It’s a verbal agreement.” His words hold a tone of finality.

You hum and lean into his touch. “But what are the rules? The duration? Honestly, this is a terrible contract.” You smile brightly despite desperately trying to frown.

Jeff leans his forehead against yours, bringing his lips tantalizingly close. “Don’t act like you hate the idea of spending the rest of your life with me.” His warm breath fans over your mouth.

You hum and decide to tease him some more. “Jeffrey Hodek, are you proposing? How unconventional of you.”

Jeff chuckles in disbelief and bites his lip afterwards. “Sweetheart, I don’t need a ring to know I’m yours. But that’s a conversation for another time.” He pecks your lips before darting to the fridge. You feel bamboozled until you recognize what he takes out. “C’mon, it’s getting late. I sneaked out earlier and bought a bottle of your favourite drink. How about we stuff ourselves with more cake while you vent about your day? I’ll even run you a bath, and we can cuddle after.”

“That sounds amazing,” you admit. The aches and pains in your body feel more prominent at the mention of a bath. Jeff packs the rest of the cake, and you remember to grab the strawberry roses before you leave. The idea of candying the strawberries did pop into your head at some point. You think Jeff would be interested in the process. But for now, you just want to go home and cuddle with Jeff. He holds your hand on the way to the car. “There was an old lady today who was very adamant about my pies….”

You continue to tell Jeff about the notable interactions you had today. You remain unaware of the box he’s fingering in his pocket.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

The first fanfic I ever wrote was for JTK (I never posted it and never will), so this is kinda a redemption for my younger self. I'm honestly just glad that I managed to finish this so my eyes don't have to glaze over anymore when I read it for edits.

Personally, I do not find the yandere trope attractive, specifically for reader inserts. I don't mind if it's for other characters, but when it's a reader insert... I just don't understand the appeal. I can enjoy it when it's in a comedic context, but it's a complete turn-off for me in romance. I respect the trope, but I don't think I'll ever understand why people like it.

So a question for people who read/write those kinds of stories: What about it appeals to you?

See you guys at my next hyperfixation! ヾ(￣▽￣)

Reblogs are appreciated!

#jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeffrey hodek #creepypasta #fluff #domestic fluff #established relationship #romance #banter #baking #just some wholesome Jeff #I don't see much of it so I wrote it #self-indulgent #gender-neutral reader #slight crack fic #couldn't think of a better title #no y/n

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