#I'm so sad I'm exactly in the same position as i was in last year.

[lonely--seeker]

Crying, concert tickets are four times more expensive than last year

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look. 

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.' 

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment. 

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark. 

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste. 

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?' 

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long. 

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head. 

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process. 

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster. 

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks- 

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan. 

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher. 

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him. 

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off. 

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one. 

well, maybe there was something to it after all. 

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves. 

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer. 

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone. 

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday. 

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it. 

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks. 

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first. 

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-' 

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended. 

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.' 

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment. 

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking. 

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before. 

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you? 

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher. 

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary. 

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists. 

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music. 

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different. 

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next. 

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face. 

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore. 

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’ 

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze. 

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

[sluts4matt]

DISTRACTION

pairing: rough!dom chris x sub!reader

summary: the two of you had been best friends for years. right after you get out of a bad relationship, chris is the first to be of distraction.

warnings: SMUT, mentions of a toxic relationship, swearing, making out, oral (female revieving), fingering, pet names (lots of the use of ma), praising, degrading, p in v, dumbification, dacryphilia, spanking, choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, backshots, ROUGHHH, all together just filth tbh.

words count: 2724

author's note: stop this is so filthy, like, whewy 😅. please don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything listed above. kind, constructive criticism welcome.

(loosely based on this song)

"he fucking cheated on you?" chris looked down at you, his eyes fuming. you had walked into his bedroom, a bitter laugh leaving your lips as you uttered the words you didn't truly want to admit.

"has been for fucking months, god i'm so fucking stupid," you mutter, your small hands sliding over your face in frustration. "it was right under my nose too, like how the fuck did I not realize."

you were rambling now, and chris could sense it.

he could feel your frustration, the sadness you were trying to repress. to him you were an open book, had been since the age of nine. and right now, he knew that the last thing you wanted was to be pitied, and so that was exactly what he was not going to do.

"hey, c'mere," chris spoke up, his hand grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to his body. it ended with your legs being thrown over either side of his, straddling his lap.

you could feel his hardening dick under you, the way he shifted you around on his lap to get comfortable, but you didn't care. chris had always been like this, had always made it obvious that he thought you were attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the same.

the two of you were close. probably some of the most important people in each other's lives, and while the sexual tension had never really been addressed, it was there. it was definitely fucking there. you could feel him, his eyes roaming over your face, as if he was waiting for you to look him in the eyes.

you let your arms wrap around his neck, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the position the two of you were in. the way his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer, and the way his nose nuzzled against the spot where your jaw met your neck.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart," chris finally whispered, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver. "he didn't deserve you."

his lips kept trailing along your skin, making your mind go foggy. you couldn't think about anything else other than his lips and the way they were making you feel.

"what are you doing, chris?" you asked him, a small giggle leaving your lips. “making my girl feel better, with a distraction,” chris whispered, and you swore you felt his teeth scrape along your skin.

my girl.

the way the two words rolled off his tongue sent a chill through your entire body, and before you could even think, your hand was sliding through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer.

chris groaned, and he could feel his dick harden even more under you, a feeling that had you whining softly. he let his head fall back, looking up at you. "tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" his voice was a whisper, a plea almost.

and god, he didn't want to stop. the way his best friend was sat on his lap, practically begging for him, it made him feel so many things. but just because he didn’t want to didn’t mean he wouldn’t if that’s what she wanted.

your hands slid down his chest, stopping right at his belt. "i want this, christopher." chris groaned. he hated when you used his full name, and you knew that. and that was exactly why you said it, a small smile tugging on your lips.

"say it again," chris said, his hands gripping onto your thighs. his fingers were digging into your skin, sure to leave bruises, but the thought made you moan. "i want this, christopher," you whispered, letting his name roll off your tongue as you grinded against his dick.

chris didn't even hesitate to grab your shirt, pulling it over your head, tossing it behind him. he flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrist above your head. "keep them there for me, angel."

the nickname made you shiver, and you nodded. he sat up on his knees, his fingers fumbling with the button on your jeans, before finally tugging them down your legs. he could see the wet spot on your panties, his hands running over your clothed cunt. "already soaked, baby."

he leaned down, attaching his lips to yours. his hands continued to run over the soft material, before he was ripping the fabric, a loud gasp leaving your lips. chris smirked, his lips still pressed against yours, kissing you hard and deep. he let his hand slide up your body, his finger wrapping around your throat, and squeezing.

"you're mine," chris growled, and you whimpered. "always been yours, chris." he smiled, letting his thumb run across your bottom lip. "that's right, huh, sweet girl,” he mumbled. his lips were trailing down your body, stopping when he reached your hips.

he bit the skin, hard, before licking the mark he left behind. the way your hands were gripping onto the bedsheets, knuckles turning white, only made chris smile. "do you think i can make you feel better than he ever did?" chris asked, his tone was cocky, and the thought of you saying no had him almost growling.

you could hear the anger in his voice, the jealousy. it turned you on even more, the thought of chris being jealous over you. "yes," you mumbled, your hips bucking up, desperately trying to find some type of friction. chris let out a chuckle, “so desperate for me, aren't you, princess?"

he kissed the inside of your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. "look at you, all needy for me," chris mumbled, his finger sliding through your folds, groaning at the amount of slick he felt.

he didn't even give you time to respond before he was burying his head in between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

"christopher!" you moaned out, your back arching off the bed. the hand that wasn't wrapped around your throat was rubbing up and down your thigh, as if he was comforting you.

"taste so good," chris muttered, his lips moving to your entrance, licking a stripe up, before shoving his tongue in. he fucked you with his tongue, moaning at the way you were grinding against his face.

you couldn't focus on anything other than the way his tongue was fucking into you, the way his nose was nudging against your clit. the coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, and you were sure you were about to come.

"chris, 'm gonna come," you whimpered, your hands reaching down, gripping his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. your hips grinned against his face, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

chris could feel how close you were, the way your walls were fluttering around his tongue, and he could tell that you were trying to keep him close. "go ahead, sweetheart, come for me," he said, his words muffled. that was all it took for you to come, a loud moan leaving your lips, his name falling from them.

chris licked up everything you had to offer him, not wasting a single drop. his eyes were trained on your face, the way you were panting, trying to catch your breath. chris smiled, his lips trailing back up your body, kissing every inch of exposed skin he could. he finally reached your lips, connecting his own with yours.

you could taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought made you moan, a sound that was swallowed by chris' lips. his hand had left your throat, his fingers replacing his tongue. he easily slid two fingers into your cunt, your slickness allowing him to do so. you moaned into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close.

chris smiled against your lips, his fingers thrusting into you fast and hard, and it wasn't long before he was adding a third. you were already sensitive, your previous orgasm having barely settled, but you could feel another building, and it wasn't going to take long.

"gonna come again for me again, ma?" chris whispered, and you nodded your head, whines leaving your lips. "so pretty for me." his fingers were working quickly, his thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit, his eyes watching as your face scrunched up. "come for me, baby."

it was as if his words were all you needed, and you were coming for the second time. your nails were digging into his skin, and you were sure you were drawing blood, but chris didn't seem to care.

"so good, princess," chris mumbled, his fingers slowly moving out of your cunt, bringing them to your mouth. “wanna taste yourself?” you opened your mouth, letting him shove his fingers in. you moaned, sucking your own slick off of his fingers, and the way chris was looking at you made your brain go fuzzy.

he pulled his fingers out, and he could see the glossy look in your eyes. "you good?" he asked, his hands holding the side of your face. you nodded, leaning into his touch. "mhm."

he chuckled, before flipping the two of you back over, so that he was on his back, and you were straddling him. "want you to ride me, angel." you slid down his lap slightly, your hands going to undo his belt. "take off your clothes, chris."

he didn't hesitate, quickly taking his shirt off. the sight of him shirtless had your mouth watering, but you didn't have time to admire it.

he lifted his hips, letting you pull his jeans and boxers down. you could see his cock, and fuck. it was big, and thick, and you weren't even sure you'd be able to take all of him.

"c'mon, baby. let me see how pretty you are on my cock," chris groaned, and his words had you moaning. you lifted yourself up, letting him line himself up with your entrance. "i'll go slow, angel."

he pushed you down, his hands on your hips guiding you. the stretch burned, and it took everything in you not to whimper. "fuck," chris cursed, his head falling back. his hands were gripping onto your hips so hard, his nails digging into your skin.

you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but once you bottomed out, you were fine. he gave you time to adjust, looking at you for confirmation before he started moving. you nodded your head, and that was all he needed.

his hips started thrusting up, his movements slow and gentle, and his eyes were watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

"more," you muttered, and he complied, his hips thrusting harder, his pace picking up. "always wanted this," chris groaned, his fingers wrapping around your throat, pulling you down to connect his lips with yours.

you moaned into his mouth, his hips thrusting up into you. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and the way his cock was hitting your g spot had you seeing stars.

"fuck, fuck, please," you cried out, and the sound of your pleas had chris grunting. he moved one of his hands, letting it rest on your lower stomach, putting pressure on it, making him hit that spot even harder.

"feel so good," chris grunted, his grip tightening around your throat. "you like it when i choke you?" "yes, yes, love it," you whimpered, as tears fell down your cheeks.

the sight of his best friend crying above him because of how good he was making you feel had his hips thrusting harder, his hands grabbing at your body. he was sure his fingers were leaving bruises, and the thought had him growling.

"look so pretty taking my cock like a good little slut," chris grunted, and the dirty talk had you whining. "yeah? my baby likes being called a slut?" you nodded, a loud moan leaving your lips. "my pretty little slut."

he flipped the two of you over, chris hovering above you. he had a hand wrapped around your throat, his other hand resting beside your head. his lips were right against your ear, his voice low, growling.

his hips continued to drill into you, your eyes rolling back. you were barely able to form any thoughts, let alone sentences other than whimpers and whines.

"you feel so good, baby," chris grunted, and the way he was speaking made you moan. "gonna come," you cried out, the familiar feeling in your stomach starting to build. "i know, princess," he said, his hand moving to grip the bed sheets, his hips thrusting into you faster.

"fuck, please," you begged, with the way his hand was wrapped around your throat it had you seeing stars. the pleasure was intense, and chris could feel the way you were shaking, your walls fluttering around him.

"such a pretty little slut, crying for her best friend as he fucks her," he whispered, and the words were all you needed, sending you over the edge, your high washing over you. you came with a loud moan, the tears that were previously falling were now streaming down your face, the pleasure was overwhelming.

chris continued his brutal pace, his lips sucking marks into the sensitive skin of your neck. he pulled out flipping you over, "hands and knees, angel." he waited until you got into position before shoving himself back into you, both of you groaning. he let his hands wrap around your hair, pulling your head back.

his lips were attached to the spot between your neck and shoulder, his hips moving impossibly faster. the feeling was so intense, you could barely breathe. "fuck, please, chris," you were mumble-whining, unable to form any coherent sentences. the feeling was too much, too overwhelming. "can't talk, ma?"

chris chuckled, and the sound made your eyes roll back. his fingers were digging into the flesh of your hips, and you were sure that if he didn't have such a good grip on you, you would have collapsed by now. "my dumb little plaything, hmm?"

you whined, his words going straight to your cunt, causing you to clench around him. "already dripping again, hm? you like being my dumb little toy?"

you nodded, and he chuckled, letting go of your hair and pushing your face into the mattress. the change in angle had him hitting a different spot, and he was sure the sounds that were leaving your mouth were inhuman.

"christopher, chris, please," you were begging, and it was music to his ears. "what's wrong, princess?" he said, his hand rubbing your back as his thrusts slowed. "it's too much," you mumbled, and he could see the tears staining your face, the drool leaking out of the side of your mouth. "too much ma?"

you nodded, and his eyes widened.

"you want me to stop, princess?" chris said, and he was ready to pull out, when you shook your head. "want you to come," you whispered, and he smiled. "yeah, angel? my girl wants me to come in her tight little pussy?"

you nodded, and that was all it took for chris. his thrusts picked up, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips. "gonna fill you up," chris grunted, his words going straight to your core, and suddenly you were coming once again.

you could feel his hot cum filling you up, and the way he was fucking into you had his seed leaking out of you. chris' head was resting on your back, and you were barely able to support the two of you, as your legs were shaking.

he pulled out, his hand swiping over your cunt, pushing his cum back into you. "keep it in, yeah?" he muttered, and the words made you shiver. chris laid on his back, pulling you to lay on his chest, his hands running up and down your body.

"you okay, angel?" chris asked, his eyes searching yours. he was worried he had pushed too far, and while it seemed like it, he didn't regret it. "yes, more than okay," you whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

"good, good." there was a moment of silence, before he chris was breaking it.

"if i ever see that bastard, i'll fucking kill him."

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity; snippets of navigating fifth year with Fred Weasley

series masterlist

based on a request from ages ago. its a little choppy, but bare with me, ive just suffered the worst bout of writer's block ever😓 (i'm actually so sad that i've neglected serendipity so much but im back and i have so many wips to share with you all!!!!)

pairing(s): fred weasley x fem!reader, brief theodore nott x fem!reader (platonic)

Hogwarts doesn't feel the same anymore. The usual air of magic had been snuffed out with each imposing rule that was nailed to the Entrance Hall walls. There is no more laughter in the corridors, no more soft chatter from the figures inside the magical portraits; instead the repetitive notes of Professor Umbridge's sugary sweet tone rattle over deafening speakers.

All boys and girls must remain eight inches apart from eachother.

There will be no house fraternising during meal times.

Talk of any unauthorised groups will be met with adequate punishment.

Curfew must be met by every member of the student body.

That last one still haunts you in your peaceful moments.

It's the reason you sit on one of the uncomfortable plush seats in Professor Umbridge's office, a cursed black quill clenched in your harsh grip as you write out those very words, the familiar cursive of your own handwriting etching painfully into the skin of your non-dominant hand. She was smirking at you under the guise of sipping lengthily from her pink teacup, watching as the tears steadily building in your eyes finally spilled down over your cheeks, which were flushed red from the pain.

How had you found yourself in this predicament exactly?

You were made a prefect at the start of the year, alongside Hermione and Ron, which you'd found out when you got your letter detailing which books you would need for your fifth year. You remember the pride written across your parents' faces and how elated you had been to be given such a prestigious role, one that many Ravenclaw students in your year wanted just as badly as you. It was a revered spot after all. Everyone was elated for you, but none more so than the oldest Weasley twin.

"Are you going to give us unlimited leeway with pranks now that you hold such a position of authority, gorgeous?" Fred's husky voice joked in a whisper as the two of you sat at the dining table during the small party that Molly and your mother had set up in celebration for the three of you.

"Are you asking me to take advantage of my new position, Weasley?" You ask, a small smirk making its way on your face as you fight the blush threatening to paint your cheeks at his sudden closeness.

All summer, he had been flirting with you. At first you put it down to his lack of contact to the outside world and you laughed at his well-timed jokes and played into his flirtations with rebutting jokes of your own.

But then one night, when you flirted back daringly, he kissed you. He actually kissed you. It wasn't your first kiss. No, that went to Harry in a random game of truth or dare back in second year (something you both agreed was wrong on so many levels; it was never discussed by any of you again). But this kiss with Fred felt incredible and it cemented a closer bond with the older twin, whose brilliantly blue eyes sparkled with something more whenever he stared at you after that moment.

He'd rewarded your achievement later that same evening, after the party, behind the closed door of your temporary bedroom, leaving you smiling and giddy for the rest of summer. It's what prompted Ginny and Hermione's loose bet as to how long it would take for the pair of you to get together officially.

Your elation lasted until the very moment you stepped into the Prefects' Carriage and found out who you'd be partnered up with for the year.

Theodore Nott. Notorious for his aloof attitude as well as his surprising intellect that rivalled Hermione's. He was part of Riddle's group, one of the most popular groups in school, possibly trumping even the Golden Trio. But because he was part of Riddle's crew you had learned to hate him just a little – his teasing remarks towards your friends, especially Ron, always sent you into a spiral of brewing animosity.

So when Alicia Spinnet, who had been given the prestigious role of Head Girl, announced that she was pairing you with him, you cast her a look of utter betrayal, which she vehemently ignored.

You did not speak to Nott for the entire time you were meant to familiarise yourselves with eachother, and he made no effort either; grey eyes misted over as if he wasn't even part of the present conversation altogether. Gods how you despised him.

~∞~

Upon returning to your original compartment, following slowly behind Ron and Hermione, Fred had immediately seen your crestfallen look.

"What's up, gorgeous?" he asked from his seat by the window, ignoring Ron's faux gagging at the nickname. He'd also moved further into the corner to allow you the space to sit down.

You thanked him with a quiet smile before sitting down with a sigh.

"Alicia paired me with Nott for prefect rounds. How unfortunate is that?" You mumble, resting your head dejectedly against his burly shoulder.

"You're joking?!" He says with wide eyes. "What the hell was she thinking?"

"I assume it was because Davies paired Parkinson with your counterpart, so you got paired with Nott as a consequence." Hermione said from the opposite seat. "The Ravenclaws and Slytherins in sixth and seventh year were paired together as well."

Yes that was an overarching trend that had seemed to stick over the years.

"Maybe it won't be too bad." Ginny says and you all turn to her in synchronised disbelief. "What? I've never seen Nott speak. Maybe that'll be a good thing. A mute partner is better than a snarky one."

"Just the thought of being in his presence makes me uncomfortable. Mute or not." You say quietly, so only Fred can hear.

"If he does or says anything to you, let me know yeah?" He replied with equal secrecy and you nod your head imperceptibly in response.

He lets you use his shoulder as a makeshift pillow when you find your eyes closing drowsily, brushing the loose hair that falls into your face and ignoring George's knowing glances.

~∞~

The very first round of Prefect duties was utterly boring and painfully long. You and Nott had patrolled the Astronomy corridor with lacklustre precision, both eager to get away from eachother's presence.

It was like this for a while, a few months to be exact, until you both became accustomed to the silence, to the point where it was actually bareable. No longer were rounds a labourous activity; you and Nott began to partake in small talk, to the most minute extent – in no way did this make you aquainted and in the daylight, you returned to steely looks and barely contained snarls of discontent, which was mirrored by your friends, and his. You barely noticed the extra attention that Voldemort's son seemed to be giving you as your friendship with Theo progressed at a steadily growing pace.

At your budding friendship with the Slytherin Prefect, Fred began showing up at the end of your rounds to whisk you away, never sparing Theo a glance. The two of you would wander the desolate corridors, hands interlocked as you spoke quietly and unhurriedly. You noticed that Fred, always grinning and never unnecessarily angry, would grow agitated in Theo's presence and you never understood why.

Until one night, when Fred was loitering at the end of your last corridor to patrol, Theo had said something that made you burst into pearls of laughter; his face had lit up with a delighted smirk at the sound.

Fred's face was stoic and so unnaturally like his usual cadence that it took you completely by surprise.

"Of course you're waiting here, Weasley." Theo had mumbled, mostly to himself, but Fred had bristled from where he was leaning against the wall.

"You have a problem with that, Nott?" He had snarled and you'd looked at him with widened eyes at the edge in his voice.

Eager to defuse the tension, you took Fred's hand and gave Theo a look that read 'stop being an arsehole', before leading the ginger boy away.

Theo had gone back to his best friend to report that Mattheo's suspicions were indeed correct: you had been learning Legillimancy and had unknowingly spoken to Theo without so much as moving your lips.

And Fred had no idea.

~∞~

This routine continued for you and Fred, leaving you at the butt end of George and Lee's teasing. You came to expect him to be waiting at the end of your rounds, where you would part ways with Theo before spending at least an hour in Fred's presence.

On some occasions when it was far too cold to continue wandering the hallways at night, he would tell you to go straight to the Gryffindor common room, where there would be a fire in the hearth and plenty of blankets to snuggle into.

On such occasions, Theo offered to walk you there, despite him not wanting to be anywhere near the lions' den. It was during these times where your friendship with him became cemented as pure and real. Your friends were surprised when you actively sought eachother out during lessons.

Fred hated your budding friendship, but he said nothing about it; it wasn't his place to undermine your friendships.

But it became hard to hold his tongue when Professor Umbridge unveiled her new Inquisitorial Squad, which Theo and his friends had joined in quick succession.

The Inquisitorial Squad was a massive hindrance for Dumbledore's Army. The lot of you had to be more vigilant with your timings for the meet ups in the Room of Requirement, lest you get caught out by these glorified prefects. The Inquisitorial Squad is how you ended up in her office in the first place.

You had been patrolling with Theo, who was complaining about how frustrating having magicless lessons was becoming in the lead up to ypur OWL exams (you'd felt guilty about the DA not including any Slytherins all year, and this further cemented that feeling), when Adrian Pucey and Professor Umbridge came waltzing around the corner.

"Good evening Master Nott." the Professor says warmly, before her gaze sweeps over to you and her beady eyes catch onto the flashy Prefect badge pinned proudly tp your chest.

"Miss Meadow, why are you out past curfew?" She asks with faux concern, mouth twisting with a sadistic smirk.

"Uh-" You look at Theo, who looks just as startled as you. "We're just about to finish our rounds, Professor."

Umbridge lets out a heinous giggle that grates on your nerve.

"Oh my dear, didn't you see the newest decree?" She asks, her face alight with victory when you shake your head. "I have no need for Prefects anymore. I disproved them as a group."

"Wha- Why?" you ask, disbelief painted across your face. Pucey smirks as he looks from you to Theo.

"The Inquisitorial Squad has overtaken that job, Meadow." He spits your name like its dirt on the bottom of his shoe. You share a look of alarm with Theo.

I knew nothing of this Meadow, I promise you.

He looks sincere and you believe him, word for word.

"This sheer display of disobedience cannot go unpunished." Her harsh giggle is the only sound that fills the corridor.

She hands you a detention on a silver platter and you go into it blind. You didn't know that Harry had been trying to protect you, Ron and Hermione from the same fate as him.

~∞~

She dismissed you with a delighted giggle after an hour of writing the same line over and over again.

Curfew must be met by every member of the student body.

Your hand is throbbing from the pain, but all you feel is numb. You wander the hallways like a ghost, not bothering to pay mind to where you're walking, until you find yourself at the portrait of the Fat Lady leading to the Gryffindor common room.

"Password?!" Elizabeth says impatiently, as if she'd been repeating herself over and over.

"Gillyweed." You mumble and she finally takes in your appearance, completely forgetting to open the portrait hole.

"Oh my dear, are you alright?" She says, voice full of concern, and if she were able to, you're sure she'd reach a hand out and place it delicately onto your shoulder.

"'M fine, Elizabeth. Just need to sit down." You didn't realise how tired you were, but from the slurring of your words and the speed with which the portrait swings open, with no hesitation towards the blue and bronze tie donning your neck, you must be on the verge of collapsing.

Fred sees you first.

"Meadow? What are you doing here, gorgeous?" he asks, voice filled with concern.

"Don't know. But 'M really sleepy." You say and you grip at his arms with barely any strength, which he notes with wide, panicking eyes.

"Shit- okay, come on let's go upstairs."

He guides you slowly towards his dorm, ignoring his brothers and Hermione and Harry's looks of worry. He sees the blood dripping from your hand in the dim light of the room, which prompts him to usher you much faster.

He sits you on the marble of the ensuit bathroom, the cold of the tiles barely registers to you.

He's mumbling a series of healing charms against your hand, jaw clenching when the blood flow slows enough for him to see the culprit of your bloodlust.

"Did she do this to you?" He asks, his voice as low as a growl that has your thigh clenching at the tone.

"Technically," You start with a weak laugh, "I did this to myself. She told me what to write."

"It's not funny, gorgeous." He says with a frown that you manage to wipe away with a peck of your lips.

"It's fine, Freddie."

"No. It's not."

You can practically see the plans forming in his brain and the next day, a series of crazed birds are let loose in the Great Hall, all headed straight for the newly appointed Head Mistress, Fred's smirking face meeting her's with no hesitation.

His hand sports similar wounds to you by the end of the day and you patch him up in the same fashion that he did for you.

~∞~

You don't show up to your scheduled Prefect meetings for the rest of the year, and you avoid Theo in the corridors, much to your friends' delight.

His voice in your mind is the only point of contact that you have with your Italian friend, something you keep hidden from your friends, especially Fred.

You look sad, tesoro. He says from across the Great Hall, days after your first detention with Umbridge. You sit facing the Slytherin table beside Luna Lovegood, who looks between you, Fred and Theo imperceptibly.

I'm not sad. I'm bored.

Yes because I'm sure the Gryffindor table is just a delight to be seated at.

You scoff outwardly at his sarcasm.

"What're you scoffing about, gorgeous?" Fred's voice says from behind you. You sneak a look towards Theo, who seems to have engaged himself in a conversation with Riddle and Berkshire, not showing that he was just immersed in conversation with you mere seconds ago.

"Just thinking about all the ways I want to make Umbridge suffer." You say with an offhanded shrug. Luna giggles into the palm of her hand.

"I have plenty of ideas." He says with a smirk as he drags you from your seat and into the corridors beyond the Great Hall.

Professor Umbridge may have cast a cloud of sorrow over the magic of Hogwarts, but nothing could take away the fun you'd been having in the stolen moments with your best friend's brother.

Not even the fact that he was leaving prematurely. Certainly not after you convince yourself to share your growing feelings for him, to have that snuffed out by his secret declaration.

Your chance with him is taken from you as he and George sail away from Hogwarts with guffawing laughter at the sight of Umbridge's sour face. They're off to live their lifelong dream, taking your dreams with them.

The next time you see Fred is after you watch Sirius' body fall through the veil, mind and body too numb to process any and all of your feelings. You only reach out for Teddy in your mind, a comforting voice of reason for all you'd seen. Even the strangely beautiful sight of the thestrals, that were invisible only hours before, did not phase you.

You fell into Theo's comforting embrace the moment you were able to leave the Hospital Wing, Fred Weasley long forgotten at Ron's bedside.

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[yandere--stuck]

CAN U WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT YAN VRISKA I NEED HER SO BAD

Fun fact: Most of this was written 2 years ago!

---

"I hate you," You sneered, feeling your nose crinkle as you glared up at the troll.

Her psionics hadn't put you to sleep, not like the last few times, but had forced you to your hands and knees in exhaustion. She'd been practicing, apparently, wanting to hone her abilities to control the minds of humans just as she did lowbloods. Part of you was terrified at the thought, but another was far too tired to even care.

If she learned how to control your mind, at least you would no longer be aware of the horrible situation you were in. But, for now, you still were, and you could at least get back at her in some small form.

It seemed this time you had twisted the knife exactly where it hurt.

"What?" Her voice was soft, tinged with pain

The look on her face… It should have vindicated you. But, it only left a heavy, dark feeling in your stomach. The furrowing of her eyebrows, the look of sadness and hurt in her slit eyes, the soft downturn of her lips, even the way her form tensed up at your words… For a moment, only a moment, you forget everything she's done to you.

You forget the kidnapping, the forced sleeping spells, the lies, the insults, how she would hold you over the pit where her lusus resided, threatening to let you fall in. For just a breath, you were able to see the small intricacies of Vriska Serket, a glimpse at the more vulnerable side of the Troll.

And then that moment ended.

You yelped as a hand yanked at your hair, claws twisting into your locks and digging harshly into your scalp. Your head was yanked to and fro, your scalp aching and burning with each tug. You could hear Vriska's grunts of effort and rage. You didn't dare look up, afraid of your captor's ire - and that she might snap your neck if you so much as turned the wrong way. 

She moved her arm as if to toss you away, forcing you to rear back, only to swing her arm toward herself, pulling you back toward her on your hands and knees. Your tears dripped to the floor as you cried in silent pain. Your mouth opened wide in a silent scream.

“Now, what do we say?” Vriska asked through grit teeth.

Your throat squeezed tight. You knew the words she wanted to hear, but your body wouldn't let you make a sound. All you could do was stare up at her, eyes bleary and stinging with tears.

“I said speak!” Vriska spat. 

One of her legs suddenly kicked out, impacting your arms and sending you scrambling to the ground. You gasped out in pain as Vriska held you up by your hair. Your scalp screamed in pain.

“I'm sorry!” You blurted out in a sob. “I didn't mean it, I'm sorry!”

The troll simply stared down at you for a moment. You could feel it - the judgment, the scrutiny. Your breathing was shaky, taken through long, heaving breaths as you fought through the pain, trying desperately to keep still long enough for her to make a decision. Maybe if you did it right, she'd stop punishing you. Maybe if you stopped fighting back, none of this would happen. Maybe you should just give up trying to escape entirely. 

It seemed like she was going to hold you there forever. That is, until Vriska unceremoniously dropped you to the ground. You laid there, halfway into the fetal position as you massaged your poor scalp, hoping to ease the pain.

You jumped as Vriska knelt beside ypu, but she quickly corralled you into her arms, shushing you as she did.

“You apologized, it's okay,” Vriska flashed you a sharp grin. “I don't have to be the bad guy anymore.”

You didn't respond, merely sniffling and trying to avert your gaze.

One of her hands rubbed at your back, while the other captured the side of your face and turned you to face her again. The look she gave you was almost... Tender. Loving. She smiled at you with the brightness of the Alternian sun - bright and filled with warmth, but deadly all the same. Well, so you've heard.

"You know I love you, right?" She asked.

Taking a breath, you nodded. You didn't fully believe her, of course, but an affectionate and calm Vriska was better than a Vriska with a grudge. And you definitely didn't want to make her upset all over again. So, you smiled as she embraced you fully. You tried to relax into her arms as she began to rock you back and forth.

Maybe if you shut your eyes, you could pretend that this was what your relationship - if you could even call it that - really was. You being comforted by your loving alien girlfriend and living together in her home while definitely not having been kidnapped. And maybe it'd be for the best if you tried actually believing it.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep7 Musings - Loustat: The Trial (Spoilers)

Imma split my Loustat musings into 3 parts, cuz there's A LOT to unpack. So I'll do the Ep3/4 & Ep5 revisits in the next posts; this is just general/initial Louis & Lestat stuff I wanted to respond to.

They beat the dog snot outta Louis, omg. They nearly snapped his neck! Louis was barely conscious, ofc his memory's spotty.

I LOVE how they're emphasizing the physicality of the Maker-Fledgling bond, first w/ Lou & Madz, now w/ Les. It's ofc all wrapped up in how much Loustat loves e/o, but its also their blood connection thru Amel. (I wonder how Louis Merrick'ing himself in Ep5 affects his connection to Amel if his heart didn't stop, cuz Armand stopped him from burning too much?)

And I love what Jacob said in the Insider, afterwards.

Fear that Lestat's come to exact revenge; excitement (a frisson of both negative & positive emotions, excited to see Les just cuz of the tension of having not seen him in so long, but also having all his nerves & senses tingling cuz of the tense anticipation & not knowing what to expect--hence: fear); fury cuz this whole mess could've been avoided if Les had told them WHY European vampires should be avoided at all costs; and relief cuz Les's' alive, his husband's ok.

But this time Lou KNOWS he's the real deal, cuz he can FEEL it--"it wasn't NOT his hand." And Dream!Stat jumpscare in Dubai, well well well; I thought Lou'd stopped seeing him on that Parisian bench? 👀

Here we effing go, whatever this French bish has to say better be good 🍿🍿🍿

I HATE HIM YOUR HONOR 🤣 Omfg take ONE thing seriously! Not the Roland-Garros, STFU! XD Lestat going off script got the coven like WTF?!

OML 🍿🍿🍿

Well that's not helpful at all--WHICH ONE!?

Les was asleep for the whole 100 years b4 he went to NOLA--but we KNOW this can't be true, cuz Les met Marius after he left Paris❗ SAM (the vamp) has been mouthing the words to this whole script, so I wonder if that's just what Les was TOLD to say, OR! It's what HE told THE COVEN, so they wouldn't know about TWMBK❗❗

NOT LES DOING A PIROUETTE INTO THE EARTH STAHP OMG 😭

THIS GAY QUEEN CAN'T HELP HIMSELF, I CANNOT

Awoke in 1908 & disembarked in humidified daughter of Paris, NOLA--but Les told Lou he was headed for Saint Louis, Missouri. 👀

"And who did you meet there?" DANG this is TENSE--Loustat finally making eye contact for the first time, Les having to see his husband all beat up & sad; as Claudia languishes in the background, as usual.

Not Louis with the cigar 😭

"The ACCUSED," LOL, Santiago had to catch himself--stay dehumanizing the violent evil Black man whydontcha; we see you. And Lestat had to feed him his own lines after derailing everyone with that homophobic soldier's evisceration.

Omg this sounds like every court case b4 they throw the book at a Black man. And the bored unaffected way the white audience just rolls their eyes & shakes their heads & smokes--they DGAF about Lou; they've already decided he ain't ish--A STONING.

LOUIS FACE. This is EXACTLY how folk in the fandom talk about Lou--and it came back with a vengeance during all that Loumand Maitre/Arun crap, as y'all were QUICK to jump on Lou being an evil pimp, even though your fave Daniel literally said that was just kinky roleplay Armand didn't take seriously when ish got REAL.

I thought y'all were just bartering for the "last bouquet of lilies"!?

Oh great, the coven's making Louis look like a perv predator. 🤦‍♀️ And the visual centering of Lou's dastardly mind-control waves like a halo over sweet innocent victim Lestat's blonde head, I CANNOT.

Omfg Louis face, SAME! If this crocodile-crying liar don't take his To Kill A Mockingbird, Central Park Five lookin arse off that stage! 🤬

Omfg Lestat I'm finna kill you myself. Omg this nonsense is too much; I know Lou, speak up, YES! But also, STFU, Les is actually tryna save your life by tearing your reputation to shreds. 😬🤦‍♀️

I loooove this effect when the coven uses the Mind Gift on them. They effed him up so bad his left eye started hemorrhaging. 😭

Armand don't you look away for an INSTANT, don't you even BLINK! You could've prevented this, EFF ALL Y'ALL in this nasty AF Theatre!

This gaslighting is hitting way too close to the way IRL court cases go when the innocent get the book thrown at them for crimes they didn't commit.

This is so painful to watch, but Sam Reid you better werk; the way he was yelling those lines had me shook, oml.

Les knows he's effed up, but what can he do? His eyes are going red; he's gonna cry. (His contacts look different, I thought they said they were gonna stick with purple eyed Les?) "I offered it to him in the church on the altar: My companionship." And Lou nodding along, cuz that was their wedding! 😭💔

I was wondering how these frames would be used. It's about the Ep3 race riots and vampire loneliness, the night Louis left & Claudia was made. But I love the implications, cuz how could humans know ANYTHING about hows vampires feel--which is SO important when they start lying about everything else that went down with how Claudia was made and how it would affect her as a "defective" vamp.

Even the VAMPIRES don't know how other vampires feel, and the capacity they have for enduring--Armand said it over & over to Louis in Ep3 and Madeleine in Ep6. Lestat came closest in S1 when he commented on Claudia's eternally 14-yr old metabolism & needing to eat more than an normal vamp, but beyond that none of them had a effing clue what Claudia was going through. They don't know REAL loneliness, even with her diaries telling them what she thought, not HOW SHE FELT.

(And I'm reminded of what I said here about Gabrielle telling Lestat what her loneliness felt like. I think "vampire loneliness" is different for every vampire; which is precisely why Gab (and Claudia) was able to walk away from her Maker/son & live alone; while Nicky & Louis went crazy.)

Lestat crying blood tears, daaaaang 😥

Kill this dude (but I stan a Loustat ally, LOLOL).

Imma stop here, cuz I've run out of Tumblr's stupid 30-pics per post, and the Ep3/4 revisit that "took all the pieces of Louis life, defiled them, bent them into a Lestat-shaped effigy" is IMO the JUICIEST part, with the most new meat to chew on.

[nonclassyparty]

tins without labels - chapter 1 (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: drinking, little bit of kissing, descriptions of erm...male genitalia? cursing, cringe fest you've been warned. !word count: 9.3k taglist: @maru-matt @yawnzshit @mcsalterego @ddaeing @downbadreading @btshook (sorry if i forgot anyone but pls reply if u want to be added!)

previous chapter

(chapter 1; when we feel each other up)

Got different people inside my head, I wonder which one that they like best, I'm done with tryna have it all, and ending up with not much at all

present time (21 and 23 years old);

There was a really ugly drawing framed and hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.

It was a house tilting to one side with three stick figurines whose shoes were far too big next to it with strokes of green thrown everywhere which you presume is supposed to be grass. It was drawn by crayons.

You presume it's an art piece made by the doctor's kid but you hope she realizes early on that her daughter or son doesn't really have a proclivity for the arts.

But then again, maybe they will later on. Maybe they'll stand out amongst their peers and be further encouraged by their parents. Maybe they'll even take private lessons to get better. Maybe they'll get into art school and have the professor praise them up on how their talent is extremely rare. Maybe they'll even win some awards.

And then, maybe someone will break their hand so badly that they never get to hold a brush again.

Alright, now you were just projecting.

But what else is there to do as you sit in the almost sterile office with your dad by your side as the doctor keeps going on and on with a somber expression on her face. You're sure Doctor Son is a nice lady, if you were paying attention you'd maybe notice that she tries to break the news extra gently but you're barely listening.

There's been a lot of "it was more serious than we first thought", "rehabilitation will be a long and steady process", "a new excellent physical therapist works at the sports center on campus so she'll be able to visit him a couple times a week, we've already made sure that he gives all of his attention to her" and the most gruesome one, "another even minor injury and there's a risk of her not being able to walk again."

You don't really have to be paying too much attention to know what the underlined thought is.

No more football.

The persistent ache in your left knee serves a constant reminder of what happened almost four months ago, it was the last game of the season. Little did you know it might be the last game of your measly career.

You refuse to look at your dad, feeling the sadness radiate off of him like it does every time he speaks to any of the doctors you've visited in the past four months.

And it's been a lot of doctors.

The fact that you spent the whole summer at home for the first time since you finished high school didn't help. All he did was coddle you and stare in pity and disappointment. Or try to be overly positive and enthusiastic about your recovery.

You didn't know which was worse.

After the final doctor's appointment before the start of the new semester which you leave with barely saying a word during the almost half an hour you're there, you and your dad get lunch at a dinner just off campus.

The thick holder containing scans, blood tests, surgery papers and whatnot, lies on the table between the two of you and you feel like nothing could cut through the thick silence.

Your dad, of course, tries.

"You can still have an amazing career in education, you know? Your mother was a teacher and she loved her job."

It's just sometimes, your father really doesn't know how to beat around the bush and in this moment, you wish he did.

"Right." Is all you say.

Neither one of you comments on what you both know. Which is that you didn't give a fuck about your major in education. Sure, you had passing grades but that is because you needed to study something to stay on the team and not because you were actually interested.

Football was always the bigger picture, the real goal.

"You can always switch majors?" He offers and you nod again, thanking the waiter when he brings two bowls of noodles to your table. 

You don't want to say that switching majors in your third year of college seems like a complete waste, of both money and time.

He sighs and you know he's frustrated with you, you understand it as well but you can't control it. Talking about your career, now that your dream career is over and done with, is an extremely sore subject.

"You know what, you've been working so hard since before you even started college, you deserve to rest."

"I've been resting since May." You respond and he winces at the mention of May. When it all fell apart.

"That wasn't rest. It was recovery." You give him a bland look and he sighs again, "I'm just saying! Maybe you'll discover something else you like to do this semester."

"Doubtful." You murmur, the reality finally sinking in at least a little.

"It's not doubtful at all." Your dad scoffs, taking a slurp of his noodles. "You're twenty-one, your life just begun, I'm sure there are other things to do and new people to meet. You wouldn't know if you never even tried."

"Dad-"

"Get yourself a boyfriend. Go to parties. Find yourself some friends who aren't talking behind your back in the locker room-"

"They weren't my friends-"

"Live your life. Is my point. Don't be cooped up in your bedroom, refusing to see anyone like you were doing the whole summer. Just...try, at least." He is silently begging now and now, it's your time to sigh.

"Fine."

"Who knows...you might discover that football isn't all there is to life."

You go silent at that, embarrassed of your own thoughts on the matter so you just keep them to yourself.

-

You flip through the pages of the magazine that you've read front to back at least four times by now before throwing it on your bed.

Your dad left earlier this afternoon after you've settled into your dorm and since then you've just been lounging on your bed, trying to busy yourself with knick-knacks that you have lying around so the time could pass faster.

You adjust the ice pack on your knee a bit better and with a soft sigh, your eyes fall on your roommate.

Yunjin was sitting behind her desk that was pushed up right next to your identical one and was busy doing her makeup. Carefully applying a pretty shade to her eyelids as she moves her desk mirror to her liking.

She was getting ready to go to a party no doubt. It was the last Friday before the new semester after all and Yunjin was a frequent party goer from what you could tell in these years living together.

Yunjin and you have been roommates since freshman year and yet, you've barely spoken to each other. Always sticking to your sides of the generously sized dorm room, you guess it's because you don't have much in common with each other that you never tried to be friends.

You didn't know much about her if you were honest, just that she majored in political science, often dyed her hair and had a lot of friends. You were sort of the complete opposites from what you could tell.

But since she kept renewing her contract for the room with you every year, you think it's safe to assume that she at least doesn't mind you all too much.

Just...try, at least.

You clear your throat. Here you go...

"You, uh, you do your makeup really prettily." It's out of your mouth before you know it, you already feel awkward as it is but when your red haired roommate turns to you in surprise that maybe you even spoke in the first place - the awkwardness triples.

"Oh." Yunjin utters with raised brows before a tiny, careful smile settles on her face. "Thank you."

So...now what?

You both stare at each other for a long hard second and you hesitate, thinking it's best to leave it at that. Keeping up a conversation was never your strongest suit either. Now that you think of it, apart from football, you don't have any strong suits at all.

"I, uh, I had a lot of practice." She offers awkwardly, motioning to her face with the eyeshadow brush wedged gently between her fingers.

"Right, yeah, I can totally see that." You nod, surprised that she responded back with something that almost sounds like she wants the conversation to keep going. You clear your throat, "The eyeliner and stuff, seems tricky."

It seems like that was all it took for the ice to disapparate for Yunjin because next thing you know, she's rambling without a plan to stop;

"Oh, that's just at the beginning, the first couple of tries I mean and that goes for everything makeup related or, hm, maybe everything life related as well, wow." Yunjin shakes her head as if life philosophies were certainly not more important than a perfect winged eyeliner, "But anyways, I was looking like a panda for the majority of my junior year in high school." She chuckles at that, not looking embarrassed at all, "Had those thick eyebrows as well, it was a complete disaster. But the longer I wore makeup, the better I got at it and the more I learned what suited my face."

You clutch the pillow in your lap as you diligently listen to her, feeling like a younger sibling watching her older sister get ready for a party. 

"People say eyeliner isn't in fashion anymore, like it's an old makeup trend or whatever," Yunjin rolls her eyes at you and you chuckle lightly, shyly because you had no idea what was in trend, "Such bullshit, I'll never stop wearing it. It looks so good on me."

She observes the perfect thin wings decorating her eyelids and almost sighs a little in admiration.

You nod in agreement, not being able to stop yourself, "You have big eyes so the eyeliner frames them perfectly. It suits you."

Yunjin smiles happily, "Right? I totally look like Jihyo from TWICE, right?"

You hesitate, having no idea what Jihyo from TWICE looked like but you don't have the heart to sway her happiness so you just give her a small nod.

You continue to chat, mostly Yunjin talks, and by the amount she seems to have to say to you, you start to think that maybe all this time it wasn't that Yunjin avoided getting to know you because she wasn't interested in knowing her roommate. It seems like she had the idea that you had no interest into getting to know her, so she never bothered.

Once she's done with her makeup and she looks over herself in her precious small round mirror standing on her desk in satisfaction, she turns to you with a glare.

It's not a glare as if you've wronged her somehow but a glare of curiosity and seemingly not taking 'no' for an answer. You raise your brows.

Her glare deepens, one inquisitive but perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Oh," You huff out, for some reason embarrassed that she's aware you're a complete klutz in that department, "I don't know."

"Hm, why not? You might like it. Makeup is fun!" 

"No, I know I'll like it." Your cheeks flush, embarrassment growing at the thought of her thinking that you're one of those girls who thinks she's better for not being interested in makeup. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I just...won't I look stupid?"

"Stupid?" Yunjin frowns as if the idea is ridiculous and maybe it was a little. "Why would you look stupid? I'm basically a pro at this, I wouldn't let you look stupid."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything about your...y'know, skills." You grimace when she continues to stare at you, not really in the mood to disclose that ever since a stupid teenage boy named Son Eunwoo laughed at you at prom for trying to look pretty that you've given up on it as it obviously didn't suit you all that much. "Just, y'know, people will think I look silly if I wear it. It's not my thing...y'know?"

There's a faint moment of silence and you cast your eyes somewhere else as you feel awkward all over again for ruining the relaxed mood. Finally, Yunjin speaks,

"Y/N," She calls quietly, face set in a serious expression when you bring your eyes up to her again, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

You blink at her a couple of times, mouth parted as she sits in her chair, perfectly curled hair and perfectly applied makeup, and waits for your response.

"I'll go wash my face."

"Yes, you go do that and don't forget to moisturize."

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for Yunjin to do your makeup. Before she starts, you carefully tell her you don't want too much and she says she'll ask before everything she applies if you want it or not.

And she really does.

She places a little bit of foundation just to cover the natural redness of your cheeks and the couple of small pimples that appeared on your chin. She foregoes contouring because you tell her you don't want that, not sure what's the purpose of it. 

She goes a little bit crazy with the eyeshadows though, maybe she notices that you have the most interest in them. Glitter especially. It makes your eyes look glossy, almost wet but you're sure you're not describing that properly.

She even does some thin eyeliner on you, some mascara, brushes out your eyebrows but doesn't fill them out because you tell her you don't like them looking sharp. Some blush, a pretty light orange color that decorates your cheeks in a way that it surprises you by how good it looks on your face. And at the end, some lip gloss to finish everything off.

All through out, you two talk. About school, about your hometowns, about your parents.

It's bonding, you realize. 

You never bonded with anyone through makeup before, it was usually over football with Ryujin or gossiping over the people you knew from school because that's what you had in common with her. But football is gone now, so is high school and for years now, so was Ryujin.

It was hard to keep up with a friendship that was out of necessity in the first place, even harder when there's an entire ocean separating you now.

But with Yunjin, although you seemingly have nothing much in common, the conversation just flows with each soft stroke of a brush or pat on the cheek.

"See!" She hands you her round mirror to look at yourself, "You look so good!"

"Oh," You muse out, staring at the reflection, admiring the glitter and shimmer and all the colors you're not used to having on your face, "I like it."

"Now, don't get me wrong!" She warns quickly with her hands up, painted nails glistening under the shitty dorm lights, "You look good without makeup too. Well," She rolls her eyes at herself, "You obviously know that since you don't wear it at all as it is but like, if you sometimes want to wear it, you'll know now that it won't look stupid on you."

You chuckle shyly at her short rant, placing the mirror back on her desk. 

You wished Yunjin's words of affirmation would be enough to rid you of all your insecurities regarding makeup or...anything 'girly', they don't but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Thanks."

She nods in response before checking her phone for the time apparently. She throws it on her bed before clapping her hands, "Well, since you already have your makeup done, you might as well go to this party with me."

That leaves you stumped. You turn to look at her from the chair in front of her desk. Party? "Wait, what?"

Yunjin doesn't even grace you with a look, standing in front of her closet which was flung open as she sorts through different materials and patterned clothes.

"Come on L/N, brush your hair out and get into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great." Her head peaks out from behind the door of her closet, she winks at you, "I'll worry about your top."

You really don't know how this happened. You don't know how you ended up here, in the jeans that hugged your hips and thighs the tightest and in the most preposterously skimpy top you have ever worn with your brushed out long hair falling over your back and your lips tinted a deep glossy red. You were a willing participant in it but you really have no idea how this happened.

"I don't think this is an appropriate outfit." You tell Yunjin as you look over yourself in the tall mirror which you both share. "I don't think this shirt is supposed to be worn like this."

"Actually," Yunjin said as she fixed her skirt in the mirror behind you and paid no mind to your ongoing breakdown, "For the last three months I thought I got scammed by the online shop I ordered that top from because it looked nothing like the photos on me but now looking at you, I'm starting to realize that the online shop is legit and that I simply didn't have the tits to fill it out."

You spluttered about at her commentary as you stared at the outfit, wondering if it would be rude to chicken out on her now.

Your light blue denim flare jeans and white sneakers looked totally acceptable. They were yours after all. 

The shirt, the offending bright red sleeveless low cut crop top that almost had your boobs out completely for the whole entire world to see, on the other hand, was certainly not.

You don't think you've ever worn something so short, so tight, so...revealing. In your life.

It's not even that you felt uncomfortable in it, really, you thought you looked hot but it just....wasn't You.

And at that point, you had to remind your self very strongly that you had no idea what You actually was. Football was no more (at least for the near future but you have an inkling it's for forever) and maybe the you that was tied to it and that the rest of your small world knew should rest for a little bit while you explore what other you's are there.

Beats moping around and feeling sorry for yourself, at least.

Yes. You will try your hardest not to care what anyone else might think tonight. You looked good. Sexy as fuck, as Yunjin said.

It wasn't all she said. Yunjin, as you begin to find out in the last hour you've actually spoken to her, is the best when it comes to making a girl feel good about herself.

"God, Y/N, your body is crazy." You hear her say as she pulls your hand away from your stomach that was bare since the skimpy shirt or jeans didn't cover it. She stares at your abs. "Do you still workout?"

Still. Meaning she also knows you're a retired athlete at only twenty-one years of age. Once again, you have to try your best to not let that reminder dampen your mood.

"Thanks." You respond clearing your throat, giving her a weak smile. "Yeah, I workout five times a week."

You don't mention the physical therapy you're about to start next week or the fact that all your workouts are under strict supervision ever since the injury happened. That, starting from next week, two other people will be responsible of you staying in shape.

It's so pitiful, you're so used to doing everything on your own.

"Five?!" Yunjin's jaw drops before she scoffs, looking at her body in the mirror with overly critical eyes.

Yunjin seemed to be naturally on the skinnier side, she didn't have any muscle built up. Not like you, years of doing football made your physique change, your body looked amazing - you were aware of that. Personal trainers, coaches both male and female told you so at least....'Defined thighs, defined stomach, toned arms...'. You heard enough about your body to know that it looked good.

It took years of sweat and regular gym hours to make it that way though and you feel bad that Yunjin seems to be comparing it to her own.

"When I was in my best shape, I had a whole team of people working with me from diet to workouts, that includes my coach as well." You chuckle lightly, as she turns her eyes from her stomach to you, "Everyone was expecting me to go pro so...The university invested a lot in me."

You force out another laugh, not trying to turn an attempt to stop the comparisons into a pity party. "Even now when I won't be playing, I'll have two people working with me."

When all you get in return is a dumbfounded stare, you groan feeling like you read the situation incorrectly. Your social cues still need some catching up to do.

So, there's nothing left to do when you feel so uncomfortable but ramble and it's what you do best, you will be quick to learn.

"This is stupid, I don't know if that's what you were doing and I'll feel like shit if I say it but ended up assuming it wrong but I'll say it anyway just in case; if you were comparing yourself to me, don't, I had professionals working with me for the past three years. Professionals that are extremely expensive and finished schools and shit to learn how to make people look hot and fit, so...." You trail off, avoiding her eyes at all cost and scratching behind your neck awkwardly.

The silence is so long that it almost wills you to run out of the room and maybe ask for a permanent roommate change, just to beat Yunjin to the punch. Instead, you hear a stifled giggle.

You glance at her just to see your roommate bite back a grin.

You huff, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment because you barely speak but when you do, it's really almost always complete and utter shit, as you try to hide your own smile.

"You're a nice girl, Y/N."

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, always terrible at taking compliments, "So are you, I guess."

She snorts at your awkwardness but doesn't further comment on it as she rummages through her jewelry box and pokes big hoop earrings on.

"And you can keep that shirt if you want...God, I hate you big boobed bitches." You let out a surprised laugh at that as she rummages some more through her jewelry box. "Do you have any earrings for yourself? I'd offer you a necklace but I think it's hotter if your neck is bare honestly."

"Um," You approach your desk and pull out your mom's jewelry box with a humble amount of items in it. You show her your tiny golden hoops, "What about these?"

"Yeah, those are great. Put those on and let's get ready to go, Chaewon might be dancing on tables by now."

As you lock the door to your dorm and turn to leave, Yunjin intertwines your arms as you both walk down the hall crowded by college students either going in or going out.

New girl friend, not so bad, you think to yourself.

Chaewon is not dancing on tables when you get there. You don't exactly know who Chaewon is but there's nobody dancing on tables in the crowded frat house you've walked into. You don't know anyone there, you thought you might see some girls from your team at least despite not getting along with them the best but you don't.

Yunjin, on the other hand, seems to know everyone.

She greets every living soul in the dusty, stuffy living room and every living soul greets her back. You guess it's safe to say that your roommate slash new girl friend is very popular with the party crowd at your campus.

As it's your first ever college party, you just follow her around like a lost puppy but she never makes you feel like a lost puppy, instead, she introduces you to every person that comes to chat with her even though you can hardly remember their names. You appreciate that more than you'd like to admit.

You end up in the kitchen which is less crowded but still has a handful of people in it where Yunjin shoves the classic red party cup in your hand and clinks it with her matching one, telling you to drink up.

At least you're not a complete virgin in this area. You drank before, you weren't an expert or anything because alcohol is limited for athletes but still, it's one of the first 'not first's of the night.

You meet Chaewon who is bubbly and cute with her bob and sparkly eyes. She's not nearly as drunk as Yunjin led you to believe she would be. When you comment on it, Chaewon smacks Yunjin's arm jokingly.

"You've made the girl think I'm an alcoholic or something." She scolds your roommate with a smirk before turning to you, smile back to complete innocence, "I don't even drink that much, Y/N. Honest."

Yunjin comes closer to mutter in your ear, "She's a liar, it's just that she's trying to be sober to see if the guy she's into comes alone tonight."

"Oh!" You nod and give Chaewon a reassuring smile as she goes beet red in the face and glares at Yunjin who continues to tease her.

You were about to tell Yunjin that you much prefer the crowd in the kitchen than the living room area and that you'd hope to stay here a bit more but you don't get a chance to.

 Loud hoots echo through the kitchen and you turn your head to see what the ruckus is all about only to see the bane of your very existence walk in with a wide smile along with a group of other guys, greeting everyone like he's the king of the world and with the way everyone in the room treats him - he might as well be.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would be considered the life of the party.

He can be! You don't give a fuck! But why did it have to be the first party that you are attending.

You try to hide your scowl by taking another sip of your drink, trying your hardest not to let your eyes trace his movements from the other side of the kitchen island but one second your eyes are coasting over his ridiculous outfit (which he looks damn near scrumptious in but that's besides the point and something you will never admit that you ever thought about for even a second) and the next thing you know - his eyes are meeting yours.

You quickly whip your head to stare into the living room, feeling the edge of the counter dig into your back.

Yunjin and Chaewon are talking about something, laughing loudly through the noisy room and you're trying to hard to keep up with their conversation but that turns out to be impossible now that you're aware of a certain menace lurking about.

And lo and behold, quickly enough he skulks away from his group of friends and sneaks up to your side in three long strides.

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me or is this Y/N Y/L/N at a frat house party?"

You stand rigid as his clothed elbow brushes your bare one but otherwise don't give him any further acknowledgement. Yunjin, from your freshly learned discovery is ever the social butterfly, grins with an eyeroll.

"Don't be a dick, Wooyoung."

Oh. Oh.

Yunjin knows Wooyoung. Well, that makes just about everything a thousand times worse.

"What? I didn't say anything." Jung Wooyoung defends with a smug smile from next to you before giving Chaewon a charming (or at least what might be charming by some people's standards, definitely not yours or anything) smile. "Chaewon, hello."

She stifles a laugh, "Hi, Wooyoung."

You're irritated to the highest degree for some reason.

Why were you never on the receiving end of his charming smiles? Again, charming by some people's standards. Let it be known, it's not by yours. Not that you want to be on the receiving end of any kind of Jung Wooyoung smile but just...why aren't you ever?

"Can't believe you two managed to get babyface over here out of her room for once." He comments and for a second you have no idea who he's referring to. Until Chaewon laughs lightly again before motioning towards Yunjin.

"That's all Yunjin. I just met Y/N, actually."

"Lucky you." Wooyoung adds and only after his second mischievous glance do you realize they're talking about you.

"Babyface?" You turn to him, growing outraged as his lips stretch into a wide grin. What is it with him and these weird nicknames which all contain the word 'baby' in them. What happened to calling you a troll like he did in middle school and moving about his night?

He shrugs, "I reckon it's better than crybaby."

"You reckon?" You scoff, not being able to stop yourself. Not even a full minute with him and you're already showcasing the gnarly childish side of yourself to girls you were hoping would become your friends. "Wow, how many years of college and you're finally using big words, Jung."

Wooyoung, for reasons you could never wrap your head around, looks positively delighted at your quip. "If you think 'reckon' is a big word then I have no further comments, Y/L/N."

You flush a deep red at that as a glare fully sets down on your face, aimed entirely towards him now. He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing which only makes you grow redder.

"So, you two know each other?" You forgot for a split second that the two of you were in the presence of your new friends. Yunjin stares at you with brows raised.

With a solemn sigh, you respond, "We were neighbours."

"We still are." Wooyoung adds, cozying up to you further. You watch in contempt the way his shoulder brushes yours and his arm lays on the kitchen island behind you, one wrong move and his arm would be around your waist. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

To your own embarrassment, you find yourself not moving away, liking his warmth and whatnot. Maybe, he smells nice as well. Just a little bit. Something citrusy and delicious. Whatever.

"Oh?" Yunjin asks, looking awfully too interested in your relationship with Wooyoung. Not that there is a relationship. Your brows furrow as you observe the way she silently communicates with Chaewon.

"What?" You ask, lost entirely. 

Chaewon gives you the same, overly enthusiastic smile, "Oh, nothing."

Wooyoung's chest shakes against you from silent laughter about something you must've missed and you turn to glare at him. He didn't do anything, you just felt like it.

A couple of minutes of conversation pass and you find yourself even enjoying it, despite the little nuisance stuck to your side. It's been awhile since you hung out with anybody, you never thought you even needed it but you think you understand now the hype around these college weekend hangouts.

Until it somehow dips to Yunjin and Chaewon ditching you.

"Y/N, remember that guy Yunjin was talking to you about? The one I have a crush on?" You nod as Chaewon talks against your ear, "Well, he just got here and Yunjin and I will go say hi to him."

"Oh, I'll come with!" You say pathetically before Yunjin loudly exclaims "NO!"

"No, Y/N, you stay right here with Wooyoung, okay?" She motions to the guy next to you, "You two seem to have so much in common!"

She's giving you a weird smile, overly wide, overly excited and you have trouble reading what she's trying to tell you, not knowing her nearly enough to be able to read girl code already.

You can barely get a word in and they're already gone, whisked by the living room crowd and you're stuck with Jung Wooyoung of all people by your side, feeling completely and utterly stupid. 

They...ditched you? Did Yunjin regret inviting you? Did she find you embarrassing? Maybe you should just go home.

A deep sigh is heard by your side and you're once again reminded with who they left you with.

"Y/L/N, they didn't ditch you. They don't hate you or whatever it is that you scrambled up in that big head of yours, they're trying to set you up with me." Wooyoung lazily explains from your right and you turn to look at him like he's crazy. What surprises you more than his statement is the fact that he's actually sticking by your side.

"What? Set you up with me?" You scoff, crossing your bare arms over your chest, "Don't be ridiculous."

He snorts, "You'd rather think they ditched you than trying to get you laid?"

You go silent at that. Laid. How preposterous. How insane and how ridiculous.

It's another thing that you're a complete virgin to. Literally and figuratively. You've never went with a boy past a clumsy make out session. Get laid, you scoff inwardly, how silly.

Suddenly, you're aware of a pair of eyes on the side of your face and you're not surprised to find Jung Wooyoung staring at you in amusement. With all your defenses up, you ask, "What?"

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "I didn't say anything."

Another moment of silence between the two of you passes. Some guy comes to greet Wooyoung, he gives you a small nod in greeting which you return and after some small talk between the two of them he walks away, leaving you two alone once again in the middle of the semi-crowded kitchen.

Wooyoung inches closer to you again, mirroring your stance now by leaning against the island with his back. "Is being alone with me that scary that you refuse to talk?"

"Scary?" You scoff again, it's all you seem to do in his presence, without even looking at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Jung, you're not nearly as intimidating as you like to think you are."

"Who said I thought I was intimidating?" He asks calmly, enjoying the way you're riled up for no apparent reason.

You don't answer his question, aware that you're being a bitch for no reason. But it's his fault if anything, years of juvenile fights made Jung Wooyoung bring out the worst in you.

"These parties don't seem like they're all that." You comment, more to yourself than anything but he's obviously listening so you decide to include him in the conversation. "Don't you get bored of them?"

Wooyoung hums from next to you, lightly swaying to the music from the living room as he hands you a cold cup of...something and takes one for himself as well. It feels weird that he actually is sort of attentive by getting you a drink when he noticed your empty cup on the island. You decide not to dwell on it too much.

"Bored? Not really, they get repetitive but there's always something fun to do." He responds, mouth quirking up as he looks down at you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips just in time for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. You look away quickly.

Clearing your throat, for the life of you, you have no idea why you nod to a couple in the corner right next to the kitchen almost having intercourse against a wall. "Like that?"

Wooyoung snickers and you feel yourself flush slightly but you blame it on the drink which is...much better than whatever Yunjin handed to you at the beginning of the night. "Don't blame people for having fun, Y/L/N."

You turn to him with your nose crinkled, "That's your idea of fun?"

Wooyoung seems a bit surprised and yet strangely intrigued by the course of the conversation. Maybe you are too but in this moment, it feels all too exhilarating with him being so close and you being a complete and utter virgin and all. God, if Chaewon and Yunjin left you here in hopes of getting you laid, maybe they were right.

There's no reason to be acting like this around Jung Wooyoung.

Honestly, what is wrong with you Y/N? Maybe you really should fuck someone. You'd stop thinking about Jung Wooyoung this way and lose your virginity at last.

Two birds with one stone.

"I know lots of ideas of fun." Wooyoung starts before he gives you that devastating grin of his that you despised even as a lovesick teenage girl as he subtly nods to the couple, still at it in the corner, "That is one of them. Although I'd at least take it up to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

Your nose crinkles in disgust again at the thought of the state of the beds in these dirty testosterone filled frat houses. "Gross, they probably don't even change the sheets."

"My apartment is two blocks away." Wooyoung adds, a little too quickly in your, once again completely virgin, opinion. "I always have that option as well, y'know?"

You blink a couple of times, staring at the kitchen tiles as you start thinking that you're not talking about his ideas of fun only anymore.

Was he-? Is he trying to-? No. No way. Do not.

"Right." You say quietly, taking a tiny sip of your drink before smacking your lips.

There is no way that in any shape or form Jung Wooyoung is attempting to flirt with you. 

He's quiet for only a couple of seconds before two other guys approach him, doing those weird half hugs half handshakes that assholes like Jung Wooyoung use to greet their friends. Which he seems to have a bunch of. Mr. Popular he is.

While they converse, your eyes are still stuck on the couple making out in the corner of the room and to not seem like a complete and utter creep, you draw your eyes away from them into the living room where...all you seem to see are couples.

Flirting. Kissing. Grinding on each other (Gross). Humping on the couch (Double Gross, you're sure people use that to sit on ordinary days). Clumsily walking up the stairs with their hands already on each other's clothes (Triple Gross). They're all going to have sex!

Meanwhile, you're a virgin. Not by choice either, if it were up to you you'd grab the first guy you see right this second and let him fuck you just to get it over with. It's not like you're saving yourself for someone special or anything. Too bad that they all seem to be taken one way or another and the only guy you've spent the whole night talking to is-

Wait.

Nononono.

But-

Wait.

You turn to observe Jung Wooyoung by your side, who is still talking to his two buddies. None of them paying you any mind.

As you mentioned before, there was a general consensus going around that Jung Wooyoung was good looking. You've seen him only a handful times since that night he dropped you off home after prom even if you're both on the same campus but you can admit (although you'll outwardly deny it if anybody asks) that he has gotten even hotter.

His face lost all of his baby fat with years that went by, his jawline got sharper and lips plusher. His eyes were expressive and the mole under one of them was cute. His hair was still long, you don't know if he cut it after prom night and just let it grow out again or if this was simply the length her preferred, now all black but it suited him immensely.

He had nice hands as well. Veiny hands, long fingers with nice and tidy nails. And you might've called his outfit ridiculous but you only did it to fulfill your role as his self-appointed enemy, it wasn't that ridiculous. Just a pair of baggy jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You guess he knows that he has sexy hands. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, making sure to showcase the naturally tanned smooth skin underneath and a necklace decorating his collarbones.

This...whore. 

A man that plays up his good physical attributes this well could be nothing else but a man that gets around a lot.

When you notice that you've spent a good two minutes doing nothing but checking Jung Wooyoung out, you notice that his two friends have left already and he's holding his red cup while staring at you with an amused smirk on his face.

"What now?" He asks and you part your lips before licking them, almost shivering when you catch Wooyoung following the action closely.

Well, your dad did say that should live your life and try at least. His words, not yours!

Although when he said them, you are most definitely sure your dad didn't think you'd ever be applying them when asking Jung Wooyoung to take your virginity but what he doesn't know won't put him in an early grave.

You are twenty-one years old and among a lot of other things, you are horny. It's time to get a move on.

"I'm going to ask you something now and for once," You let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you can't believe you're about to do this before opening them to level Jung Wooyoung with an open stare as you inch closer to him to make sure he can hear every word, "Just this once, I ask of you, nicely, to not be a dick about it. If you're not up for it, just...just let me down gently. Don't laugh at me, please, just tell me no and we'll forget it ever happened."

All traces of amusement leave Wooyoung's eyes after your all-too-honest speech and he turns to rest his hip against the kitchen island to be face to face with you. He looks serious and asks quietly, "What do you wanna ask me, Y/L/N?"

You take a deep breath, feeling undeniably nervous under his heavy gaze. "Those ideas of fun you mentioned before, the ones involving your apartment...."

Wooyoung presses the rim of the cup against his lower lip, teeth gently grazing it before he takes a sip. He nods, looking a little confused as he swallows, teeth coming back to bite on the cup.

"Mind showing me?"

It takes him a second to catch on but when he does, it only takes another second for the mischief in his eyes to triple and lips placed against the rim of his red cup to stretch into a wide breathtaking smile.

-

Wooyoung had an inkling of an idea where the course of the night would take him when he first left his apartment. Have a drink or two, mess about with the guys for a few hours and maybe if he was up to it, find someone to take home.

 But this... if someone told him this would happen, he'd burst out laughing and call that person crazy. Insane. Deranged. A lunatic. 

Really, he had no idea how the hell this happened. 

This being two handfuls of your jean-covered ass in his hands, tongue shoved deep into your mouth as he pushes you against his hallway wall and swallows every tiny sound you make while your hands tug and rake through his hair.

He's pretty sure your dark red lip gloss is all over his cheeks from how messy and rushed the kissing is. Everything tastes like artificial cherries, a taste too sweet for Wooyoung's liking accompanied by a tinge of vodka and lemonade that you've both been drinking.

Your hands are soft when they run over his jaw and latch onto his shoulders, he swallows another surprisingly sweet whine of yours and slips a leg between your thighs. Embarrassingly enough, Wooyoung is already hard and once his hands slip from your ass to your hips just to feel the way you move them as you grind against his thigh - he fears he might finish in his pants.

Yeah, if at the start of the night someone told him that Y/L/N Y/N would be dry humping him in the hallway of his small studio apartment after he went out of his way to keep her company at a party, he surely would've dialed the nearest psychiatric institution to take that person in for much needed treatment.

When you reward him with a whimper that goes straight to his dick for placing a kiss underneath your ear, Wooyoung starts coating your neck in slow hot kisses and bites that leave you trembling in his arms. 

He's been (as subtly as he could) staring at the naked skin that your shirt revealed for the majority of the night anyway so, truly, this isn't much of a chore for him.

When his teeth gently graze your clavicle, he pulls away for just a moment and realizes he's finally gotten a front seat view of your tits.

Jesus Christ.

When the fuck did you become hot?

Wooyoung always found you cute at most. And fine, he thought you were pretty too that night he drove you home from your prom night. But that's where it all ended. He didn't think about you all too much in any other way given your history and barely saw you as it is.

Looking at you now...your hooded eyes that glittered around the corners. Flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that made his head spin. Disheveled long hair that fell down your back and that he wanted to tangle his fingers in (which he quickly did as soon as that thought appeared, no time like the present!). And those fucking tits covered with nothing but a sorry excuse for a shirt that clung to your torso.

Wow.

It really must be true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

Although there's little heart involved in this situation and a whole lot of thinking with his dick.

He pulls the thick strap of your top a little and watches at it smacks against your skin gently. You keep quiet, breaths still heavy as you watch him.

"This shirt is fucking ridiculous, Y/L/N."

No time left for talking, his fingers curl around your waist again as he bends down to place kisses against your chest. You both probably smell like smoke, sweat and booze but there's a soft layer of vanilla mixed into it the closer he gets to you and Wooyoung finds himself not minding the combination.

"I-It looks bad?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you stumbled into his apartment and Wooyoung has to pause, almost in disbelief. His first reaction is annoyance, not pegging you as the type of girl to fish for compliments by acting insecure even though she knows very well she looks delectable.

But then, the more he stares, the more he notices the way you twitch in his hold, shifting your gaze around his face in order to avoid his eyes, his annoyance disappears. You are insecure about the shirt. You are genuinely wondering whether or not it looks good on you.

And Wooyoung is nothing, if not ready to please at all times.

"I wanna drag it off of you with my teeth." He says the honest truth, hating the way his voice is low and husky. What the fuck is he doing. Why is he breathing so heavily?

The blush that overtakes you doesn't stop at your face but slowly curls around your neck and appears at the top of your chest. He hums, satisfied with the reaction he got before going back to business.

The business being your marvelous tits.

With his hand still curled around your waist as he lowers down so his forehead is basically resting on your bare chest, he groans once he thumbs over your left breast and feels a hard nipple under the material.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" He murmurs against your skin, groaning again once he feels your fingers intertwine with his hair. Wooyoung doesn't wait for a response but roughly pulls one of the thick straps down your arm and places a hand over your naked breast feeling its weight in his hand.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He thumbs at your nipple, liking the soft moan that escapes you at the action as you continue to grind against his clothed thigh.

"Y-Yunjin said it didn't need a-a bra." You stutter out through a whisper and he places a soft kiss to the middle of your chest as if to soothe you before returning his attention to what's really important.

God bless Yunjin then. Wooyoung should remind himself to buy her that chicken sandwich she likes so much tomorrow morning.

His thumb rubs over the hard pink nipple one last time before its enveloped by his lips, tongue twirling around it and arm tightening around your waist as your breath hitches and you twitch even more in his hold.

When you let out a high pitched moan once his teeth gently graze the soft bud, Wooyoung thinks he'll send Yunjin a whole damn buffet to her dorm.

Wooyoung releases your nipple with a 'pop' that makes you groan lewdly and he scrambles to stand up to his full height to get the offending red shirt off your body.

"Off." He mutters and you quickly grab the ends of the shirt to pull it off, needing Wooyoung's help since it was genuinely so tight on your torso.

With your hair disheveled even more now and bare chest on full display, Wooyoung almost kneels down in front of you.

His dick ached.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters, burying his face into your chest as he licked and kissed and sucked and...

"Bed." You whisper through a moan, tugging at his hair. You grit out almost bossily, "B-Bed!"

"Bed?" Wooyoung looks down on you in confirmation, body now completely pressed against yours and when he sees your wide, desperate but sure eyes, he quickly nods. "Bed."

His lips are back on yours again, hand grasping at your jaw as he pulls you from the wall and leads you further into his studio apartment. The bed was only a couple of feet away anyways.

You grunt against his lips as you trip over something and he pushes it away with his foot (it was a sneaker that fell out of place as he was getting ready in a hurry), continuing to lead the way to his bed.

"You take off your shirt too." You whisper, almost shyly which causes something warm to swirl in his stomach. He obeys quickly, dropping his shirt to your feet before pulling you in with a hand at the back of your neck, biting at your lower lip and letting out a small laugh as you gasp.

"Pants too." You add innocently and he huffs, growing amused at your bossy nature even in the bedroom.

So, of course, he'll be a little shit about it.

Wooyoung drops himself on the bed, thanking God he changed his sheets this morning, and obnoxiously spreads out his legs. He observes you with a tilted head and a grin on his face, "Why don't you take them off?"

-

You lick your lips at the request, feeling like it's awfully hot in the room despite the fact that you're not wearing a shirt. You without a shirt in front of Jung Wooyoung with your tits on full display was another thing that you weren't ready to unpack just yet.

He's beautiful.

Wooyoung's skin is a pretty color of fresh honey and you carefully step closer, between his legs, to place a hand on his firm chest and feel his velvety skin. He watches your every move with hooded eyes, holding himself up with his arms placed behind him on the bed.

There's a tattoo on the side of his ribs, one that you would never know about unless you see him like this, so you run a thumb over it in admiration. Still, you don't want to take too long at the risk of coming off as weird, so with all the bravery you can muster - your hand drops to the button of his jeans and you gently (because of your fucking knee) lower yourself down to sit between his legs.

You thumb it open and pull the zipper down, shivering at the way Wooyoung's lips part and he softly exhales in what seems to be anticipation. You further flush when you finally get to see the outline of his....well, his dick.

You felt it against your hip, when you were kissing by the entrance door but you didn't have the guts to ever look down.

When Wooyoung lifts his hips up to help you get his pants off, you realize you're about to see it now anyway.

Clearing your throat, you curl your fingers around the waistband of his jeans and underwear all at once and pull it down. If Wooyoung notices how clumsy you are with it, he decides not to comment at least.

And there it is. His dick. A dick, first of all. The first dick you've ever seen in your life that wasn't through the screen while watching a bad porn video.

You don't stop pulling on his pants until they're pooling at his ankles without breaking stare with his...penis. 

You don't really know what you expected if you're being honest. You never thought a dick would be pretty and...it's not exactly ugly either. Just, odd looking you suppose.

You can't tell if it's either big or small as you have nothing to compare it to. Maybe average? What is considered small? You're scared what a big dick looks like if this is a small one. Or even average one. It's kind of thick though which is worrying, you don't even notice the way your lips part as you imagine how exactly is this...thing supposed to fit anywhere inside of you.

There's neatly trimmed hair at the base of it and the tip is flushed, a thick vein running at the underside of it and two-

"Uh," It's like a sound of a scratched record as you freeze, "Your first time seeing a dick or something, Y/L/N?"

Your head slowly lifts from his lap and up to his face where a Jung Wooyoung awaits with raised brows.

It's only then that you realize you've been examining this guy's dick like he was at a doctor's appointment instead of trying to get him off.

You're at a little loss of words to be honest and for a split second you're worried that Jung Wooyoung will take your stutters of "I, uh" and "Um"'s and "Uh, hm"'s the wrong way and think you're impressed by him or something. You're not, once again, you have nothing to compare it to. You barely know what you're looking at right now.

His facial expressions go a little like this in the next twenty seconds: Cockiness (that quickly fades though), Confusion and last but not least Realization.

"Oh my God, it is?!" He laughs in disbelief before his eyes grow even wider and mouth continues to hang open. He quickly places a pillow laying on his bed over his lap, to shield his manhood from the big bad scary virgin apparently, "You're a virgin?!"

It feels like a punch to the gut and you flush a deep red, already scrambling up to your feet and shielding your bare chest. While you try to find that damned crop top, Wooyoung is still rambling in the background.

"There's no way! Wow, seriously you've never had sex before?! Never?! Wow, there's no way! Wait, why are you putting your shoes on-"

You refuse to turn towards him, pathetic tears of embarrassment already welled up in your eyes and bottom lip wobbling, "Uh, I'm gonna go."

"Wait, what? Why?" You hear shuffling behind you and you assume he's trying to get back into his jeans.

You quickly slide your second sneaker on and are flinging the door open, not looking back. "I have to go. I'm sorry, bye."

"Sorry? What are you- Will you just wait a fucking second for me to put my clothes back-" The door falls shut and you're stalking down the hallway of the apartment building, trying to get as far away from his door as you can.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? Kissing Jung Wooyoung, going home with Jung Wooyoung, doing anything with Jung Wooyoung. What were you thinking?

You cry only a little when you get back to your dorm. Really, it's only a little, just a couple of flimsy tears. 

Then you scrub the makeup from your face and change into your pajamas. Yunjin still isn't back and you're angry at her too, for bringing you to that party in the first place. For leaving you with Jung Wooyoung as well.

You're angry and embarrassed. And on top of that, you're horny too.

Why did Jung Wooyoung have to be such a good kisser? Why did his hands have to feel so nice? Why was he so beautiful?

You huff, buried deep in your sheets and all ready to go to bed but sleep just isn't coming. You're too busy thinking about the guy you've sworn not to think about at all anymore.

It was going so well these last two years.

With another huff, you cover your face with your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs.

He tasted like lemonade.

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : fried?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Dear scrambled eggs,

Happy Paris Fashion Week. I'm walking this year (finally???) but not the same show as Ada. I ended up cast by a different brand than her, which makes sense since we don't exactly share the same genre of face. Also, she's in Paris for shoots while I'm here to walk. Women and men's fashion week aren't even the same week. I found that a little sad. Also, my agent got me on some sort of makeup from my makeup artist and somehow he's made me look 29 like hello?? I am a literal child ?? (I'm not. but im still in my early twenties).

My letter this time is going to be short (again) mainly because I need to mail this internationally and I'd like for you to send me a letter to my airbnb (the host gave me the keys).

I speak Spanish and literally no French, so when a lady in a shop was talking to me I could only shake my head and tell her no in Spanish and I still have no idea what she wanted. I guess we'll never know.

Right. The last walk was alright. I got to walk with the model, but I got a death glare from their friend bc I swear I felt my soul slip out of my body. Like, sorry your friend is hot??? Sorry I'm no better??? :((( What's it take for a guy to score a date these days? I ALSO did not get their number again. Can you believe that? I turned around and they disappeared into thin air! AUGH.

Anyways, I'm sending you one of the luxury-brand paris postcards I received as a small gift. Hope you like it.

What are you up to the month that I'm stuck in Paris? Christmas

Leon finishes walking his show, backstage with a handful of models he's met here and there, mainly sticking with the group of raccoon models. Everyone's sharing the same Airbnb. It should sound like hell, except most people have their own room, and somehow it's the greatest blessing on earth because he knows Ada would ruin his life if he even thought of asking her about you.

His letter is mailed out first thing, shitty translator in hand as he's told Reverso is the better of translators for French, and he gets it mailed out with a quick wink from the old lady at the post office. He's sure she did it because he's on the more attractive side and not the fact that he's sending a letter to his penpal like some middle school boy. He should get over that crush on you too.

He starts his last walk of this fashion week, meeting new people to have a quick talk to, adding private accounts and getting to know a handful of other Ada fans at his last walk. It's the only one where he even gets to see Ada, and her walk is... no joke. Hatred be dammed that woman can strut. He wonders if there's another universe where he didn't accidentally get shot through the heart the first time he met her best friend.

The more Leon paid attention, the more he seemed to understand that one of the main reasons your contract got off so easy was because Ada had requested it. Some people even call you a result of nepotism. Well, not that you seemed to like the job all that much. Dare he say it, to you, modeling was just a side hustle.

How nice it must be to be in a position like that.

When the models finish up at the show, Leon's told he has a shoot the next day, and then a handful of shows scattered nearby. They're making him go to Spain for a handful of days for a photoshoot with Ashley, and then he's practically free for the rest of the time. He's sure it's because his manager's girlfriend wants to hang around the city. Leon's more than fine with staying in the city. It'll be a good break.

Shame though, he misses Sunny.

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

[hannamoon143]

Dark red roses

Genre: Fluff,Angst

Not gonna tell you anything except Genre. this is a surprise

not proofread

Edit:Part two

You were very excited when you stood in front of your clothes,to pick some pretty ones for you date with Chan tonight.But this wasn't just a normal date,it was your 3th anniversary!

And at first you thought Chan forgot,and if he did you wouldn't have blamed him,because he had a lot to do at the company lately.But then he surprised you with an extremely cute plan.He invited you on a midnight date at your favorite spot in the woods.It was a little clearing with a beautiful lake on it.

It was going to be a picnic date he said,so you decided to put on your favorite navy blue dress.As you did you hair and your make up you got more and more excited,you also had a little surpise for him.

Exactly at the moment you were done with your hair the doorbell rang.You couldn't help but smile when you opened the door,and your boyfriend stood there, with a bouqet of dark red roses, (these were your favorites,and he also confessed to you with these) and a cute smile stood in front of you.

"It's been 3 years now since i stood here in the exact same position,confessing to you.",he said with his angelic voice, while giving you the roses."

You responded with a soft kiss and a lighthearted smile.

Then as you both sat in Chan's car he listed you all the foods he packed for the picnic.The whole time you couldn't stop smiling on how much effort he put into the picnic,when it usually was you,who always prepared your dates or movie nights,or whatever you were planning to do.

When you finally were at the clearing you were mesmerized by the Beauty of the lake,shimmering in the moonlight,and the soft breeze in the air.

"No,y/n you have to wait in the car"

"Why?"

"I'm gonna prepare everything and then you can come and enjoy it"

You adored him so much.As you sat in the car you thought about all the wonderful memories you shared with him. The last three years were the best in your life. You smiled when you thought of the day three years ago when Chan confessed to you.

You woke up by your doorbell. Sleepy you looked at your phone.Who would ring at your door at 3 a.m?? You dragged yourself out of the bed and went to the door.You immediately were awake when you saw who it was.

"Chris what are you doing here,it's 3 a.m.Did something happen?",you asked when you opened the door.

But he didn't seem sad or worried,he looked more like he was a bit... nervous?

"Uhmm...no nothing happened,but- but i need to say something i can't hold in any longer"

You never ever before saw him so terribly nervous.He was mostly calm,and always found the right words.But also if you never would have admitted it, you found it adorable.

"So y/n please don't interuppt me.I wanted to give a long speech or something,but honestly there is not much to say.So i'm just gonna say the only thing that needs to be sayed. I love you"

"You love me?"

"Yes y/n i love your smile,i love the way you giggle when i make a joke,i love the way your eyes shine when you laugh,i love it when you are with me, I love you y/n"

"Chris.I love you too"

You got ripped out of your thoughts by Chan calling you. You got out of the car,taking a quick look into your bag,to see if your surprise was still in there.

Chan prepared a lot of food and candles on a blue blanket.It was perfect.He was perfect. As you sat down you told him how great everything looked,and that you really appreciated it.And then when you both ate strawberries (your shared obsession) you finally found the courage to say "Honey,i also have a surprise for you"

When Chan wanted to say something suddenly his phone rang.He looked at it and gave you a sign to wait a moment. The call was not very loud but you understood it anyways.

Han:Chan where tf are you??

You immediately recognised Han's voice.What did he mean?

Chan: Ugh,sorry i forgot to tell you,i'm on a date with y/n. Han: Seriously?? you know we need to have the song done in 1 week,Changbin and i really need you now. Chan: I know,i'm sorry,i'm gonna make it up tomorrow Han: But we need you now hyung.I don't have anything against y/n but why does she always need to be so clingy and invite you to dates almost all 2 days?

You froze.Clingy.How you hated this word.When you were younger people always told you you were clingy.It started when you were in 5th grade,and in the highschool it got worse.Your friends started to get annoyed and then slowly started to find new friends.It was always the same,they first thought they liked you,but when they saw how you were you became annoying and got replaced.This always happened till college.There you said to yourself if you didn't stop being so "clingy" you would never have friends.So you always were very sensible when people called you clingy or annoying.

But then Chan came.With him,you didn't feel clingy.You finally could be yourself again,without doubting everything you said.

Chan: Uh,Han i'm sorry i'm gonna call you tomorrow Han: No,Chan if you-

Then Chan hung the call up.

You still sat there almost frozen.He didn't deny it. He didn't say anything against it. Immediately your anxiety made up the worst scenarios in your head.What if he found you clingy? What if he always found you clingy?

"So what did you wanna say before?",he asked.He said that like nothing happened.For him it was probably nothing.For you it was your childhood trauma coming back.

"Chan?",you asked with a wobbly voice.

He looked at you with a smile.He smiled while your anxiety ate you up.

"Do you think i'm clingy?"

"What? I never said that baby.If it's because of jisung,i'm sorry that he said that"

"But you didn't deny it."

He sighed. "I just didn't deny it because i didn't want a confrontation ok? now eat your strawberries"

You knew it.He was annoyed.Feeling like you couldn't breathe you started another try.If he wouldn't find you clingy he would have denied it right?So you said again that he could have denied.

"Okay,y/n now it's getting annoying.I didn't say anything.Why do you always overreact so much?". Now he really sounded annoyed and angry.You told him only once from your trauma.He didn't remember it at this time.

It was getting annyoing.Your words got annoying.You got annoying.You didn't know if this were your thoughts or your heavy anxiety speaking.

"But you could have denied it,that wouldn't have been so hard"

"Y/n you are so overreacting, this is now getting childish.You know what?Sometimes you really can be clingy.Why can't you just be quiet.Why did you have to ruin the moment?

No.This wasn't real.He really found you clingy.He was right.You ruined it.It was you ruining the moment not him.And jisung was also right.You didn't notice when a tear fell down your cheek.

The real Chan would have cared,he would have gave you a hug and apologised.No wait,the Chan he was to you would have done that.But he was so annoyed from jisung and now also you,that he just spit everything out.

"Seriously? You are now crying like a little kid?You know what? You are so annoying right now.I'm going home.I have better things to do than argue with you like two stubborn kids.I think you can walk home,maybe you calm down a little bit then."

He took his things.He took everything except the blanket and the roses.You heard the engine start but you couldn't see the car because your vision was blurried.You cried.Was this really happening? The buzzing of your thoughts became so loud.Your sobs sounded choking.You hadn't had a panic attack in a long time.But here your past came back. So you sat there.At the now cold and empty clearing.Sobbing,with a heavy panic attack.And no one was there to comfort you.You were still feeling the sheets of paper in your hand,where you had wrote all the things you loved about him,and where you had written why you loved him.Your surprise.

Was this really happening.You still couldn't believe it.No,you just didn't want to believe it.

But now it was only you,the moon and the dark red roses.

a/n: I'm sorry,this just came to my mind. Part 2 yes or no?(I have some ideas for part 2,just say if u want one or if i should leave it like that)

@valkyriexo

[love-that-we-were-in]

the harder the pain, the sweeter the sun

the aftermath of Luke's quest. or the consequences of not being a hero.

a/n: hello i didn't mean to be so sad on my entrance but we move! have fun (i'm so sorry)

It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks as he steps back across Camp Half-Bloods borders. There’s still the same mill of activity, archery and pegasi and swords grating against one another. Everything is exactly as it was when he left. Some people notice him as he makes his way towards his cabin - they don’t make small talk, what’s the point of that when he’s not the hero returned. His scar, still fresh, still raised and red across his face, feels heavy. It’s almost a beacon; a guiding light towards his failure. No one comments but he can feel it, the shift in energy as he walks past each cabin. Pity for the son of Hermes. 

His bunk is untouched. 

Collapsing onto the sheets, he glances around the space. It’s only him here, faced with his own reckoning and renown. His bunk is untouched but there’s two abandoned opposite, a careful stack of belongings at the end of each. Before dinner, he’ll change those sheets. He’ll pack Cora and Eric’s belongings into a box to stow away in the big house, amongst a dozen others he’s left there over the years, and he’ll burn shrouds to them with his campmates in the evening. 

Luke wonders, as he takes in the makeshift beds on the floor, if it was even worth coming back at all. 

Everyone moves on. Within days, there’s barely a mention of either of his quest companions. Both of them were unclaimed, watching their lives tick by in the two years he’d known them with little idea of who they were. The Stoll twins were given their beds upon their arrival at camp two days after he returned. They had been claimed, sent in the right direction by Hermes himself, and Luke despises the way he has to sit down with people he’s known for years and tell them they’re back to sleeping on the floor. Seniority is one thing - being claimed is more important. 

He trains. It’s the only thing he can do. There’s no pride that comes with failure. Some of the Ares kids jeer at him but none of them try to fight him, just watch as he fights with Annabeth like old times. Knife against sword. He trains and he studies and he watches as the floor of Hermes cabin becomes a minefield of belongings as summer peaks. 

Little will change between now and fall, he knows that with certainty. He’ll still be stuck burning food for his father, willing something to happen that will earn him a deserved quest. Maybe it’s foolish, this desire to try again, to keep going on quests until he returns from one he can say was his. Not a feat of Hercules, but a tale of Luke. He has camp glory, he needs more than that.

*

Summer ends, as it always did. He says goodbye to more cabinmates than anyone, standing at the edge of the borders until the sun is nearly setting in the sky. Thalia’s tree is behind him as the last kid leaves, an eleven year old girl that had done nothing more than stare with wide eyes every time he lifted a sword. He wonders if he’ll see her next June at all. 

“Back to basics again,” Annabeth says from behind him and he rolls his eyes as she shimmers into existence, baseball cap in hand. “Do you think it’ll get easier?”

He forgets sometimes that she’s still a kid. Wise beyond her years, a strategist to be admired, but just a kid. And a first time cabin counselor. She hasn’t said goodbyes like this before, to everyone she’s housed over three months. Teenagers that had looked to her as their leader, even if they didn’t understand her being given such power. Children who revered her position and her history as if she were a Greek tale herself.

Luke had understood it, had fought for it in April when Kieran Ho had sent word to Chiron that he wouldn’t be returning that summer. She had seemed so prepared to take on the role. He hadn’t realized that it might take more of an emotional toll than she was ready for. 

“Honestly,” he leans back against Thalia’s tree, surveying the camp below them as if he’s never seen it before. Annabeth glares at him for it. “It gets harder every year. It doesn’t end.”

“Some of those kids aren’t coming back.” Annabeth says it as a statement, a fact of life that they’ve both come to terms with. But there’s a shake to her voice, the kind saved only for when she’s terrified of being wrong, so he lets it linger in the air and get carried away. He thinks that’s answer enough. 

*

Winter Solstice comes and he feels ready. Months of only fighting Clarisse and Annabeth. Meals spent with the busiest table still, but with nothing to talk about. So long dedicated to being angry, to dreaming, to waking up in a cold sweat from everything he’s been given permission to see. 

He steals the bolt. It’s a simple plan, one he doubted originally, but it works a charm. There’s no questioning how important the Gods think of themselves anymore, how above everybody else they view themselves (literally and figuratively) to be. He escapes from floor 600 of the Empire State Building with the source of Zeus’ power in his possession and no one bats an eye. 

Annabeth will never have to come to terms with losing campers. Thalia’s sacrifice won’t be in vain the way it has been since his return. Hermes won’t be able to ignore him any longer, pretending as if being a glorified mailman means more than his son. By next summer, the world will already have begun to change. 

Trekking through Manhattan, he understands now why he was destined to fail against Ladon. What his scar will come to represent in years to come. Luke Castellan was never meant to steal an apple - he was destined, instead, to change history and with that, the world.

[michelle-is-writing]

Unexpected ch.2, Spencer Reid

Word count: 4.4k~

Read the first part here!

It isn't that hard to lie and say you need an emergency transfer to where your parents live. Thankfully, I'm able to do such a thing and move into a house similar to the last one I had when I lived in Las Vegas. I'm even more thankful to gain a good position at the FBI agency there, but I'm not all too thrilled about having to leave my best friends at Quantico. I knew them for only a short year, but it felt like I knew them forever.

Four months of the same work I once did months before pass, but this time, I've had to do it a bit differently. Instead of being able to travel to other agencies and help review specific cases for them to solve, I'm forced to stay at my agency and continue working there. It turns out the FBI doesn't exactly like their pregnant workers traveling, no matter how far along they are.

In my second month of working, I found out I was pregnant through a sudden spell of vomiting and fever. When one of my co-workers took me to the doctor, they did a blood test, and like any other unsuspecting parent, the news hit me in the face. One night of passion, sadness, and hurt lead to that moment where I was given the two exciting words that I had least expected.

"You're pregnant!"

When I was first given the news, I was excited, and I still am. I've always wanted kids, but I've always wanted to have kids that had a father present in their lives (preferably, in this case, Spencer). Going by the fact that Spencer most likely hates me for my sudden absence from work and leaving in the middle of the night, I can presume he doesn't want anything to do with our baby. Who would? But at the same time, can you blame me for leaving?

I felt alone in a relationship with a guy who acted like he barely knew me when we had known each other for our entire lives. I felt like I knew Spencer like no one else, and vice versa. I was wrong about something I would have bet my life on, and it was absolutely mortifying.

I still love Spencer, and I will never stop loving him. I think out of everything, that's the most painful thing. The high probability that he hates me now comes in second, which is why I haven't told him about my pregnancy. That, and I presume he never wanted kids - so, how can I push that onto him and make him not only hate me but a child he helped create? Why would my child ever deserve that?

Without fail, Penelope has tried to call me once every week ever since I left, and I just can't answer her calls. As stated once before, me leaving out of nowhere is embarrassing. I know that the gang is concerned about me leaving without saying anything, but how can I face them without lying? I can't just tell them I left because I knew Spencer didn't love me like I thought - that would've just added insult to injury.

However, the call Penelope sent this week was followed by two consecutive text messages.

Answer me right now or I will hack into any information about you there is available!

I mean it!

Because I knew she really did mean it, I answered her next call without hesitation.

"Hi, Penelope," I answered her, my voice drained of all emotion. Sitting down on my couch with my phone held against my ear, I placed my free hand over my small baby bump and lightly rub it without even thinking about it. I love my ever-growing child with all of my heart, and I haven't even met the baby boy yet.

"Don't 'hey, Penelope' me!" She almost shouts into my ear, causing me to close my eyes with guilt. "You haven't called, texted, emailed, nothing! You have sent me absolutely nothing explaining why you left! Why did you leave?!"

Her question makes me want to vomit, and I know I can't lie to her. "Spencer and I slept together the night before I left," I explain blatantly, hearing an immediate response only seconds later.

"So what?! Was the sex lousy? Did he not do it right?" Her questions roll off her tongue without pausing. "You have to teach the boy! He hasn't had that much experience in the past years, so you have to give him pointers and-"

"Pen, he couldn't get Maeve off his mind," I cut her off, tears rolling down my cheeks. As much as I'd love to laugh at Penelope's usual actions, I can't when I'm thinking about that night. "H-he mentioned her right after we were done, and I realized I would never be enough for him. I-I just couldn't face him after that, Pen; I just couldn't."

Unlike last time, Penelope halts her words before letting out a single-word response. "Oh," She mutters, every ounce of anger or frustration gone from her voice. She knew how I felt about Spencer and how I had always felt about him, even when we were younger.

A few more seconds pass before she speaks up again, her voice now a bit quieter. "But why couldn't you call me back or anything? Why'd you have to ignore me?"

Penelope's softly spoken words break my heart, and with the already falling tears, I can't hold back the new ones that arise. Biting my lip to prevent myself from sobbing out-loud, I take my hand away from my belly and raise it to cover my mouth. I never wanted to hurt anyone - I truly didn't - so, it hurts to hear that I ended up doing so anyway.

"Penelope, I'm pregnant," I shakily confess, shaking my head as I continually cry. "And I couldn't tell you, or Spencer, or anyone, because Spencer never wanted any kids! He never wanted me, Pen!"

Every word that leaves my lips is followed by my hands waving around frantically as I close my eyes with a shake of my head. It physically hurts to admit all of this to Penelope. Not only does it hurt, but it's embarrassing. I'm by myself with no one around me, the only guy I've ever loved doesn't want me, and I'm pregnant and scared to death. I have never felt so alone in my life, and it sucks.

"...Does he know?" Penelope asks, making me instantly sober up.

"NO!" I nearly shout, my eyes shooting open. "No, Pen, you cannot tell him! Whatever, you do, do. not. tell. him!"

"But, he deserves to know, (Y/n)!" Penelope argues, making me cry even more. She just said the same thing I've been debating with myself over the past two months, and to hear her say it makes me want to just fall asleep and forget about my problems. She's right, and I know it.

"He. doesn't. want. kids. Pen!" I repeat myself, placing my hand to my forehead. "And he doesn't want me either!"

"(Y/n), he does! He does want you!" Penelope tells me, making me shake my head. "When you left, he didn't talk to anyone. He just... he shrank into himself and never came back out! When we saw that you had transferred to the Las Vegas Unit, Spencer submitted transfer papers! Just to be with you!" Her words shoot right through me, making me pause in my actions as my eyes go wide. "He got denied, and when you didn't respond to my calls or his calls, he thought... he thought you didn't love him."

"Oh, God," I mutter, shaking my head. "I never stopped loving him, Pen - how could I? H-how could he think that?" I ask, not expecting an answer back from Penelope. "I tried to do everything I could to make him feel loved, to let him know I loved him and only him!"

Leaning my head back against the couch, I sink further into the plush material with a sigh. "When in reality, I was the one who never got anything like that back," I explain, my voice slow and calm now that I've let out the things I've been holding back on saying for months now. "I was the one who felt like I was never good enough no matter what I did or how hard I'd try... I would always be second-best - and that was that."

"If only you know how wrong you are, (Y/n)," Penelope tells me, sounding like she's crying too. "I-I know you won't believe me, but none of what you are saying is true. Absolutely none of it," She adds, "Spencer loves you with every ounce of his being, and you are not second-best to him."

"Pen..." I drag on, sighing.

"I know you don't believe me, but you have to," She states, before letting out a sigh. "I miss you, girl-genius, and I want to come and see you," Penelope confesses, making me lightly smile. "I miss our fashion conversations and shopping trips, and I've been sad the entire time you've been gone!"

Once all of her words process through my mind, I smile fully. Despite the shit that I've done, she's still the same fun-loving, girly-girl Penelope that I was close to in Quantico, and somehow, we're still close.

"I miss you too, Pen," I tell her, placing my hand back on top of my risen belly. In response, two little feet kick against my hand, making me smile. "I... I'm off for the next couple weeks if you want to come and see me," I tell her, "I think I'd like it if my baby boy met his aunty."

As soon as the words leave my lips, Penelope gasps. "You're having a boy?" She asks gently, making me giggle. I guess I didn't include that when I first told her. "That's it - I'll be coming in on Friday!"

I grin. "Don't rent a hotel room!" I tell her, standing from the couch to walk into the extra room in my house. I didn't think I'd be having anybody stay over for a while, so I didn't put any sheets or pillows on the guest bedroom bed. "I have a guest room here at my place, so don't waste any money on a room."

"Okay, okay!" She cheers, making me smile even more. "I'll get a flight and be over there in no time. I love you, and I'll see you then!"

With that, I tell her I love her back and we hang up. With my phone now in my hand rather than pressed against my ear, I move to sit on the mattress and sigh. I wasn't expecting Penelope to say everything she did, nor did I expect her to be so forgiving of me. Although, it is Penelope we're talking about here, and I don't think there's ever been a moment in her life where she wasn't understanding. I told her my problems, and in spite of loving Spencer like a brother, she listened to me and understood where I was coming from.

"I'm sorry you had to hear what your mummy told Aunt Pen," I apologize to my bump, my hand still resting against it. "Your daddy really is a great guy with a big heart, but mummy wasn't meant for him," Despite my heart cracking as I mutter these words, I smile and circle my hand around my bump. "However, mummy knows that you and I are meant to be, and no matter what, you will always be my little boy."

With Penelope calling me on Wednesday night, I didn't have to wait long for her arrival. I even went out and bought some lilac sheets for the bed so she could be on new ones, and I also got a pair of peacock themed earrings for her while I was out. I have to admit I'm a bit excited to see what she has to say about the nursery I've put together myself. I painted the walls with pale blue paint and then stenciled ducks throughout the middle of the wall. The furniture is all made out of a Walnut wood shade, and the curtains match the walls with a yellow ribbon holding them together.

On Friday night, I put everything together for Penelope's arrival and smile to myself. A part of me wants to believe it's just her that's coming, but another part of me is telling me that she's bringing Spencer with her. I'm partially scared, but at the same time, I'm not. What happens, happens... and there's nothing I can do about it.

Hearing a knock at the door, I close the kitchen drawer I'm currently digging into and move onto the next one. "Come in!" I shout, digging through the mess of kitchen utensils to find the pair of earrings I bought for Penelope. What interrupts me is two little feet kicking me as I do so, making me stop and place a hand to my belly. "Not now, little one!" I whisper with a smile, feeling my baby boy halt in his kicking. I can only hope he'll be willing to listen to me like this when he gets older.

Just as I find the black gift bag with the peacock themed jewelry in it, I hear my apartment door open and close. It isn't a peppy voice that I hear a few seconds later, and instead, a voice that I've wanted to hear for what feels like such a long time. Now that I hear him speak, I realize my mother's intuition has already kicked in.

"You know," the deep, yet boyish voice begins, making me stop moving. "Standing for long lengths of time can slow down the growth of a fetus, and cause premature birth as well as prolonged pain in the lower back."

A few moments pass before I slowly place the jewelry on my kitchen counter and turn around to see Spencer standing a few feet away from me, his hands wrestling with each other. Despite my mind telling me not to, my body takes charge, and I look into Spencer's eyes to see him gazing at me with glossed-over eyes. Once he sees my bump, his mouth lightly drops. "You..." He begins, holding a hand out. "You look amazing."

Leaning back against the counter behind me, I look away and harshly swallow, my throat feeling like it's being squeezed closed. "Spence..." I say the name I've always called him, but nothing follows it. I don't know what to say to Spencer at this moment, and going by the short silence that follows, he doesn't either.

"Why..." he starts, making me look back at him. This time, his tears are falling down his face freely. "Why didn't you tell me?" He finally asks, gently shaking his head. He truly doesn't realize, and even if I tell him, I don't think he'd understand.

"I know why you left," He explains, walking toward me with unsure steps. "And I-I realize that it was so stupid to talk about Maeve after we... we-we," Spencer stutters, making me shake my head as I bite my lip. "I never meant to send you away, (Y/n); I never wanted you to leave," He confesses, a tear trailing down his cheek. "That was the last thing I wanted you to do."

Once again, in spite of every signal my mind is sending me, I watch myself step forward and wipe Spencer's fallen tears away, his head leaning into my touch as I do so. With tears gathering in my eyes, I watch with bleary vision as Spencer lets out a shaky sigh before looking down at my bump and gently smiling. "It-It's mine," He states the obvious, making me smile as the tears finally fall.

Leaving my hand against the side of his face, I take his hand into my free hand and place it against my stomach, his warm fingers pressing against my belly with a softness I've never felt from him. "He is yours," I explain, emphasizing the sex to him. Instantly, he picks up on it and lets out a short noise of happiness, making me want to hug him to death, but I don't think I can handle that at this moment.

"Spencer, do you... do you want me? Have you... have you ever wanted me?" I ask him, his eyes instantly flickering up to meet mine.

"Every day of my life, yes," Spencer tells me, nodding his head up and down repeatedly. "My words to you about Maeve w-were not an attempt to tell you otherwise, I promise you," Watching as he shakes his head, I see him visibly struggle to swallow. "I just needed to get that out, and with you, I felt like I could tell you anything," He confesses, a few seconds passing before he shakes his head again. "And I felt that if I didn't let out my feelings, I wouldn't be able to move on, and then I wouldn't be able to give you all of me in my entirety because there is nothing I want more than that."

More tears sliding down his face, he leans down and lays his head against mine. Meanwhile, the tears haven't stopped falling from my eyes either, and even though I've felt hurt by Spencer for these past few months, I know he's telling me the truth. "I want you, (Y/n); you're all I've ever wanted," He tells me, crying even more as he shakes his head. "If you would have told me that I messed up that night by saying the stuff I did that bothered you, I would have apologized until the end of time for you. I would've done anything just to get you to stay."

At this moment, I feel guilty for not only what I've put myself through for these last months, but Spencer as well. I'm glad that he understands why I felt the way I did, but what I'm unhappy about is the fact that I was the one who wasn't understanding. For five seconds, if I had seen the difference in how he said his last words to me rather than what he was saying, we wouldn't be in this predicament. We wouldn't have been without each other, and we wouldn't have gone through so much by ourselves with no one to fall back on.

"If I wasn't pregnant with your baby," I start, my voice wary and slow. "Would you have still come back for me?" I ask, pulling my head away from his to look up at him.

In response, Spencer simply smiles and nods. "Even if you had left in the morning and told me goodbye, and you came here without our son growing inside you, I would have still fought for you with my life," He confesses, still smiling. "When I was young, I was stupid and I let you go without a fight," Spencer then shakes his head. "I don't want to do that again - I can't do that again."

Once again, I know that what Spencer's telling me is completely truthful and coming from his heart. For once, he isn't saying statistics or facts about what is going on around him, and instead, he's speaking up about himself and how he feels. He's not reading from a textbook or informative journal - it's all coming from him.

"I don't want you to do that again either, Spencer," I admit, welcoming his arm as he wraps them around my waist and slowly pulls me close. With my bump pressed against his practically non-existent stomach, I smile, feeling two little feet kick in response. My boy has never reacted like this when I've hugged people in the past - maybe he somehow knows who I'm hugging, and perhaps he's excited.

"I love you, (Y/n)," Spencer states, his other hand coming up to hold my cheek. Looking up at him, I see tears still flowing down his cheeks like before, although there are fewer this time around as his smile remains on his lips. "I love you so much, and I want you to see that so badly."

Spencer Reid - the man who avoids drama at all costs, rarely takes risks, isn't too great with social interaction, and who doesn't always show his emotions - is currently standing in my kitchen with his arms holding me close to him as he confesses his true feelings. At the same time, he's interacting with our son in ways he doesn't even know about, and for once, he's fighting for me by taking a six-hour flight to get to me and try to win me back. At this point, I never realized that it's something I've wished for with all my heart ever since I left.

"I do see it, Spence," I tell him, giving him a tearful smile. "I see it right now as we speak, and I see it looking back too," I add on, watching as his face never changes at my words. He probably doesn't believe me, or he doesn't want to because he's mad at himself for waiting for so long to do such a thing. "I see everything, Spencer, and I will always love you too," This time, my words do make a change occur, and I'm thankful to see it's a positive one. "Besides, I always have."

In response, his smile widens before he leans forward and plants his lips against mine. However, the kiss doesn't last long as Spencer soon pulls away and pushes his head into my neck. "Please, forgive me," He pleads, sounding broken like before. "Please, please, please," Spencer repeats the word over and over again until I speak up.

"Baby, I forgave you long ago," I tell him, only to earn a head shake in response.

"No, no, not just for this," Spencer murmurs, raising his head from my neck. Leaning above me, Spencer stares into my eyes while gently swaying us in our embrace. I don't think he knows he's doing it.

"Back when we still lived here in Las Vegas, I-I moved everything out of the apartment without telling you. I was in a rush to get moved into my dorm while moving my mom into Bennington that all I left was a note, a stupid note!"

Every word that leaves his lips afterward doesn't reach my ears. He left me a note? When I went into the empty apartment, there was absolutely nothing in there! If there was a note, then I surely would have seen it.

"Spencer," I cut him off from his rambling, and for once, he stops speaking. Turning my eyes up to his, I gently shake my head. "There was no note in the apartment. I-I went in, and every-single-thing was gone; it felt like you wanted me to feel forgotten, and it hurt."

Once I'm done speaking, Spencer leans down and places another kiss to my lips, apologies following afterward just like before. "I promise you, I left a note - I swear I did!" Spencer's words come out in a rush as if he were scared that I wouldn't believe him.

"It's okay, Spencer. I believe you," I assure him, nodding. "The owners of the apartment probably came by and cleaned up since there was absolutely nothing left - no furniture, pictures, curtains, nothing."

At that, Spencer shakes his head with squinted eyes. He then goes to say something, but quickly cuts himself off with a sigh. "No matter what, I love you - I loved you back then too," He confesses, his eyes flashing over to mine. "I thought for the longest time that you wanted nothing to do with me, hence why you never tried to see me."

If only he knows how far that is from the truth. For so long, I tried to find him. I searched everywhere online, but nothing ever came up except for old news articles about how smart of a kid he was. It wasn't until I joined the BAU that I realized why his online presence was so scarce - it was for his protection.

"I searched for you for a long time," I tell him, smiling at him as I reach up to cup his cheek. "But, I could never find anything on you. I never thought to look at our employee list though."

Laughing at my words, Spencer shakes his head at the irony before sighing once again. "I looked for you too, but I always got scared when I found you," He confesses, shaking his head. "I didn't think you'd want me meddling in your life."

Just like before, his words break my heart. There are too many damn things that have gone wrong in our relationship that could have been solved way before now. "Let's... let's not let another misunderstanding ruin our relationship again - please," I plead, wanting nothing more but to be close with Spencer without anything holding us back.

Liking the idea, Spencer smiles back and nods. "Let's," He agrees, leaning forward to plant his lips onto mine. As soon as he does, the baby boy in my belly begins kicking again, prompting me to place both of Spencer's hands on my stomach. Feeling his son kick, Spencer pulls away from the kiss to let out a mix of a surprised gasp/laugh, making me giggle with him. "I love you," He tells me, turning his smiling face back to me with happiness written all over it.

Smiling back, I lean farther into him with his hands still pressed against my swollen tummy, my head leaning against his chest. "I love you too," I respond, feeling as if the only things around me that matter are Spencer and our son.

Thanks to Penelope (who I doubt is even coming down here and is probably waiting for me to return to Quantico), I finally get to be with the person I feel to be my soulmate, once and for all.

This may not have been the way I wanted to start a family, but I can't say I'm ungrateful for us now. Finally, after so many years, things are cleared up and no longer blocking the possibility of Spencer and I loving each other. For once, we finally get to be with each other in peace and utter devotion - nothing else.

[hanjisunglover]

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 - Park Jay x Sim Jake

pairing: park jay x sim jake x fem!reader

genre: fluff, the type of relationship that I think you can have with jay and jake.

author note! nothing smut in here today :) just resting a lil bit but I had this in my drafts since last year so

५ I have the feeling that at the beginning these two really didn't like each other and YOU were in the middle of the storm🧍🏻kinda like this.

५ you met them in the same group of friends and they both tried to capture your attention, they take you on various dates and compare them with each other, they never leave each other's minds and you are always there as a point in common.

५ so you finally took them both on a date, very frankly you confessed that you liked them both and that it would never be a problem for you to have an open relationship of that type, because silly you, never knows that these two has the highest sexual tension ever.

५ It's kinda weird the first time but as soon as they understand how things work in a threesome relationship, allow me to say it: the sweetest, kindest, cutest, the most beautiful relationship;

५ But let's move on to the facts. I see jay as a father figure, like he sees you and jake as people to protect and wouldn't let your bodies move even two meters away from him, he just need to protect his babies.

५ jake and you - as I said before - would be the “can we do this jay?” duo. with shining eyes and he just needs a break from you two ….. but he loves you too much for that.

५ rules for your relationship: having three similar personalities, it is always better to set rules - this is what your friend said the first time he saw you out together - and so it was, 'not too much sugar in the evening', ' avoid unnerving things those days of the month', 'never leave the toilet seat open', 'don't disturb jake while he's sleeping',, etc..

५ BUT I WOULD ALSO SEE HOW the rules are broken. and then there is definitely jay nervous asf, jakey giggling, you upset. just…. YOU CAN'T WITH THIS MEN AND I CAN UNDERSTAND IT.

५ the cuddle position for me is: you lying in bed, jay stroking your hair with your head on his stomach and jakey hugging you, THEY JUST NEED YOUR ATTENTIONS SO PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THEM.

५ I see their showing affection to you is different, like jakey clingy ofc, kisses!! everywhere !! he loves kisses. give him lots of them. satisfy him. jay loves to be the little spoon ( BUT NOBODY NEEDS TO KNOW IT … ) pls when he is sad let him be the spoon, and you hold him tight.

५ I CAN SEE THIS TWO BOYS fighting to give you their clothes, then LITERALLY take turns exchanging things.

५ they love how you dress and would be delighted to do matching outfits. so no one looks at you too much, i can see them be a little bit possessive if someone hits on you in front of them, they would show off their chest muscles showing off big and immediately take you close to them ( jakey arm around the neck - jay arm possessive around the waist ) they need to protect you.

५ but you're not totally bottom so...... the moment you get jealous. oh damn you drive them crazy. literally crazy. they would tease you for that, but they appreciate it so much, that is, it would warm both of their hearts (I could say more to Jakey because in my opinion he loves the genuine jealousy of a relationship).

५ I'm not saying you would move in together after a few months, but that's exactly what I'm saying. and there too: mess. and I think I can see an aura of sweetness wandering around the house, EVERYWHERE ONE OF YOU GOES AROUND, at least one other walks around looking for affection and oh god not even a polyamorous relationship calms your hormones enough to be able to rest on your own.

५ btw you love each other :::(((( and I can see it clearly.

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWELVE

THIEF OF THREE DESTINIES

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

⊲ previous

[July 1, 2020; 02:17am; hunters' hq]

[02:01] You: Megumi's back, he's fine

Delivered.

Unread.

[02:11] You: u ok?

Delivered.

Unread.

Gojo wasn't answering your calls either. You were drowning in an abyss of intrusive thoughts, each one worse than the last. Was he okay? If he was all right, why was he silent? Such silence was like the silence of a dead man - just as endlessly cold.

You stirred, pushing the images away from you and setting the phone aside. Maybe that was your lesson to learn. Wasn't that what he meant by loneliness?

There was nothing left of Kyle, not even his cold corpse was honored to rest deep underground. His image along with the vague tracings of his voice seemed to beg you not to forget him, but you knew that every image and every melancholy has a year later. Eventually, a wave of new memories would erase his still-green eyes. 

The moral compass had been broken, trampled, torn to pieces. In which direction should the lost traveler go now? This entire time traveler had been walking along the dark side of the moon towards the calling sun - towards something bright and warm. Where would the road lead if the sun was stolen?

"Meg," you called out detachedly. "Asleep?"

"No," replied the mechanical voice.

"I have a riddle."

"I'm listening."

"There are two hunters," you began, staring blankly at the black monitor screen. "One is experienced, the other is a newbie. They were surrounded by demons, the experienced one was killed, and the newbie survived. What kinda a case is this?"

"The newbie was with the demons," Meg replied without hesitation or questioning intonation.

"Think again," you said, admonishing more yourself than the artificial intelligence.

Meg was silent, but it was as if you could hear her digging through the informational bowels of universal human knowledge, and she was doing it so fast that it would take you a lifetime to absorb that much information. "Hmm...," Meg drawled. "The messengers don't get killed?"

"The messengers don't get killed," you confirmed in a whisper, watching in the extinguished monitor as your eyes went black.

You didn't even notice that you had chewed your own thumb to a bloody pulp. Those devils knew everything. From start to finish. They knew you'd broken into a settlement, knew which one, knew that Kyle would be going instead of you that day. So where was the rat lurking? Was it one of the people in the void? Or was it one of the people who lived in the house?

Knock-knock.

Your only task was to keep your head down. You knew exactly what they were after, and they seemed to be getting close. Every day it became harder for you to control the turns of the invisible blades embedded in your body. You wiped the moisture from your dark eyes with a sharp movement, and making sure you looked like anyone else, you walked to the door.

A pair of sad, frightened child's eyes greeted you. "Why ya still awake?" you asked Yuuji tiredly, trying to maintain a neutral, if not positive, attitude. The boy looked down at first, before peeking over your shoulder. "Okay, come in," you surrendered, throwing up your hands.

He walked hesitantly over to your bed and sat down on the very edge. It looked like he was about to fall to the floor. "I... I brought something," Itadori began in a shaky voice and reached into his pocket with the same hands. "I think...," he stammered, and you could see him literally chewing the inside of his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you should have thrown it away," he stated in an already firm voice, looking you dead in the eye. In his outstretched hand lay a silver bracelet, mockingly sparkling. "Especially in the trash can," boy added more quietly, trying to hide from you again. "It's a memory."  

"I've never complained about my memory," you said, shrugging.

"That's not the point!" he protested, and the bracelet almost fell out of his hand. Itadori immediately pressed it to his chest. "Don't you wanna have a piece of him always near you? It's very precious," he whispered, pressing the jewelry harder against his chest.

"This thing's worth 20 bucks."

"Don't you dare say that," Itadori hissed. His fear faded away, making way for anger at the words you had said. "Take it!" he ordered, holding out the jewelry to you again. "Take it, now!"

It was the one shining thing that didn't make you want to take it or steal it. You walked over to the bed and sat down next to the boy, and you had no time for inner cries and agonizing - you couldn't show weakness in front of anyone. As soon as you took the bracelet in your hands, you felt like the ultimate fool. Why did you throw it away in the first place? It had never been a soulless piece of metal, at least not since you'd put it on your brother's arm.

You glanced around the workroom. Kyle wasn't here anymore, and he never would be. Maybe you'd never see him again, or maybe he'd see you in hell.

Along with everyone else.

"Thank ya," you smiled weakly but sincerely at Itadori. Maybe he sensed it, maybe he heard it in your voice, but he fidgeted restlessly, dropping his gaze to the floor again.

"What are you thanking me for...? I yelled at you. I'm sorry," he mumbled, and the swollen red face was drawn again with sorrow. Where is the artist who painted such things on children's faces? Maybe if you ripped their heart out, you'd feel a little better.

You wrapped your fingers around Yuji's chin, making him look up at you. "For being more mature than me today," you tried to wipe away the tears that had started streaming down his cheeks before you'd even finished speaking. He snuggled into your shoulder, muffling the tearing sobs. You didn't pay attention to how wet your sweatshirt was from his tears and snot, only gently stroking his back. "It's gonna be okay," you repeated the words like a mantra straight into the pink top of his head.

His body was clearly exhausted, and he collapsed in your arms. Yuji seemed to have cried for so long that all the water had gone out of his organism. "Try to get some sleep, 'kay?" you said, adjusting the pillow on the bed with your hand. At his exhausted questioning look, you shrugged. "Ya can go to your room if ya want. It's just that I remember ya saying it's quieter at my place."

You patted him on the top of his head and got up from the bed, heading back to the computer chair. A murmur behind you made you chuckle quietly - apparently Itadori had made his choice. "Y/N?" he addressed you quietly, covering himself with a blanket. You hummed questioningly. "You didn't call sensei?"

You didn't want to disturb an already wounded young heart. "He's busy right now, so I didn't bother him with the news," you said evasively. "Just texted him to say that Megumi is fine. Now go back to sleep."

A fresh morning breeze wandered through the room, taking all the memories with it as it made its way back through the window into the freedom of the bay. There really wasn't much stuff - you only needed three boxes to pack all of Kyle's clothes. Was it always this black and gray, or had you stopped perceiving colors?

You folded another T-shirt carefully, deliberately slow. After all, this was the last day you'd ever been this close to him. As you put the folded T-shirt in the box, you glanced at the unopened men's perfume on the bedside table. Would anyone need it now?

When you picked up the black sweatshirt, the door clicked open. The fresh air in the room was instantly freezing, chilling to the bone. Rachel was like the walking dead, even the large eyes on her gaunt face showed no signs of life. She stood on the other side of the bed, across from you, staring blankly at the sweatshirt you were holding.

You tentatively held it out to Rachel, and she took the sweatshirt in her hands after a few more seconds of staring blankly at the space. "Um...," you began quietly, watching her go through the clothes in her hands. "I packed everything here, so... When ya go to Hopetown, bring it with ya, 'kay?"  

Rachel covered her eyes for a moment, her nose buried in the sweater as if she hadn't heard you at all. You looked away awkwardly and headed for the exit. "Ya're going too," she demanded in a strangled voice.

You sighed convulsively and turned around - Rachel was still standing with her back to you. "Rach, I don't have time to stand by a tombstone that doesn't even have a body underneath it." 

Everything froze. Your ears heard nothing, your eyes saw nothing. Your skin felt neither wind nor touch. Even your memory stopped - all the images melted away, spreading out into the obscurity.

You came to your senses from the impact of your head hitting the floor. Rachel was on top of you, clutching your throat with both hands - she must have been doing it for a long time because your chest was already cramping helplessly. Certain places on your body were aching desperately, especially your ribs and cheekbones. "Rach," you wheezed, grasping weakly at her wrists.

She held it all in not making a sound, and you could have sworn you could see the muscles in her face tense behind the shroud of rage. You tried to reach out to her again, but another pathetic croak escaped your lips, and Rachel let go of your neck, whimpering suppressedly. "Ya're going," she hissed, getting up from the floor.

You pulled yourself up, coughing and rubbing your neck. "Rachel," your voice became an order of magnitude rougher as if your sister's hands were still clutching your throat. "I understand ya feel bad," you watched as she walked back to the bed, looking down at the same sweatshirt and wiping silent tears from her face. "But why ya so angry with me?"

She turned around sharply, meeting your uncomprehending gaze. "Because it's ya who should bear that burden, not me!" she shouted out desperately. "It's-," her own sobbing interrupted her, and she tried to push it away, hiding her face in hands. "It's all your fault, so why am I theone in tears right now?"   

"I didn't ask anyone to follow me-"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" the perfume flew just an inch from your face. When it hit the wall, it left nothing behind but shards that crumbled to the floor. "Shut up!" Rachel gasped and agonized with her own emotions. Despite the fact that she let them out, it didn't get any easier in the slightest. "Ya just an ungrateful bitch," she hissed weakly. "Ya'll go to the funeral. Otherwise your white-haired weirdo will find out-"

"He knows," you cut it off.

"That's how it is," Rachel said, naively slamming her eyes shut. "Then it's strange that he's still with ya. I can barely stand ya, even though I've been around since I was a kid."

"Rachel," you sighed tiredly. "Let's just not fight, 'kay? This isn't really a good time for that."

Wiping the nearly dried paths of tears from her face, your sister straightened to her full height and headed for the exit. "Ya're going or ya don't have a sister anymore either," she mumbled absently, shoving you with her shoulder.

It was definitely her favorite.

"We are gathered here today to honor the memory of our beloved son, brother, friend..."

The weather was clearly mocking. The midday sun brightly illuminated the growing greenery, the black-clad people, and the names on the tombstones. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, just a vast blue. Nature didn't seem to want to grieve with the people. She didn't care about all of you.

You stood away from everyone else, leaning against a tree. There was no place to hide in this cemetery field, and the tree seemed to be your only refuge. You pressed your shoulder against it as hard as you could, smoking your third cigarette.

"Words cannot express the full horror of this tragedy that has touched us all..." 

Tragedy.

Megumi and Danielle stood in the front rows, huddled together as if trying to become one. Both were pale and lifeless, but Dany still had the strength to cry. She stood with her face buried in his neck, unable to look at the closed coffin, and the boy stroked her head inconsolably, unable to take his eyes off of it. It was unclear which of them had it worse, but they decided to deal with it together.

It brought some people together.

Rachel stood beside them, holding Mike in her arms. She kept her hand on the redhead's head, pulling her son closer to her chest as if ordering him not to look. You could see his little body flinch and twitch. Rachel never spoke to you after that fight. She didn't even look in your direction.

Someone was distanced by it.

Frank's skin was the color of his hair and beard, but he struggled to keep that same good-natured expression, though it was completely drenched in sadness. He stared blankly at the empty coffin. How could you look him in the eye now that you couldn't even bring the body?

The people from the void who had come to the funeral were frightened. This man had saved them, fought for them, but if he was suddenly mortal, didn't that mean the rest of you were too?

Tragedy inevitably befalls everyone. For some it prepares them, for others it comes completely unexpectedly. It leaves behind either a hardened spirit or a broken heart - a person must choose for themselves.

"Wherever he goes, I believe he will end up in the arms of God..."

If God didn't have time to keep track of everything going on here, who's to say he had time to keep track of the other side? Did it even exist? You looked around the cemetery helplessly. There was a whole universe under each tombstone, but what would be under your brother's one?

"Y/N," greeted the woman who came up behind you.

"Camila," you said, taking another drag on your cigarette. The woman leveled herself at you and stared through her dark glasses at the spectacle in front of you. "I didn't think anyone from the old generation would come here."

"Can we be judged for that?" asked Camila plaintively. "Kyle's death hardly our business."

"He's Frank's son," you reminded her. "To Frank ya owe a lot."

"I didn't come here to bicker," the woman said sternly, nervously smoothing her already perfectly bunched hair. "I want you to give me my sons back."

"Did that one death scare ya like that?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"One?" barked Camila, but immediately lowered her voice so as not to draw attention to herself. "Whatever. Anyway, I'm expecting Axel and Ryan home tomorrow. If not, we'll come pick them up ourselves," she gave you a meaningful look as if she wanted you to feel like you were nothing.

"Will mom's skirt save them in battle, too?"

There was a resounding smack. You bit your lip and put a hand to your aching cheek.

"It's called concern," she hissed, leaning over you. "You don't know of such a thing, do you? You don't care who you let go to waste."

"Concern?" you chuckled. "It didn't keep your hubby safe," when she tried to hit you again, you intercepted her arm, digging your nails into her skinny wrist. The hiss of bubbling blood eclipsed all sound, so you didn't immediately notice that there was no noise at all. No voices, no stomping. "Hit me again and I'll rip your heart out. Just like everyone else who will come to our house," you had barely finished grinning when a ringing silence that you hadn't sensed earlier hit your ears. Stunned by this, you turned towards the people gathered here to pay their honor. All of them were looking at you.

Shoving the frightened Camila's hand away from you, you strode away from the cemetery to the taunts of the midday sun.

Gojo thought he was doing the right thing. At least for the first couple days. Wasn't it fair to feed you the same pill you kept giving him? If you didn't give it a taste, how else would you know how bitter it was? That's how he reassured himself when he saw another missed call. If on the first day it made him smile stupidly, after a while he grew more and more anxious - maybe you've forgotten him already? He had to hand it to you - in all this time you called only four times, the last call was dated last night. It wasn't enough for him. He didn't want you to miss him only at night, he wanted to be in your thoughts every morning and evening, whether you were eating or fighting.

Gojo didn't miss your messages either. Megumi did well, how could he not? It couldn't have happened to any of his students otherwise.

He muffled the panic rising in his chest by poking curse's eye out with his heel. The eye burst with a squelching sound. He couldn't count how many times it had been these days because he had personally volunteered for mission after mission. "God, that's a lot of yelling," he muttered, tucking his hands into his pockets and pressing down on the ugly head even harder. Whether there was a brain inside the curse head or something else, Gojo's shoes were immediately stained with purple goo.

Gojo didn't hear the phone ring because of the ultrasound, but he pulled it out when he felt it vibrate in his pocket. Biting his lip in frustration, he stared at the caller's name for a while longer before answering. "Hey," Gojo chirped.  

"Jesus, what's that sound in the background?" hissed Megumi. The boy was heard to pull away from the phone.

"Oh, wait a second," Gojo rambled apologetically. He squatted down, and leaning over the curse, grabbed it by something that resembled a throat. When the covers crunched, when the curse froze, opening its mouth in an already silent scream, a mad chuckle escaped Gojo's lips. Clenching his hand even tighter, he ripped the creature's head off with a single tug. Tossing it away from him, Gojo leaned the phone to his ear again. "Better?" he asked carelessly.  

A long sigh sounded from the other side. "Are you really that busy or are you really just an unscrupulous asshole?"

"Hey!" he resented. "It's been so long since we've seen each other, and you don't have a warm word to say?"

"You should come. Anyway, the ceremony's already over, but I think it would be respectful to at least show up here," Megumi muttered moodily, and what was even more surprising to Gojo was the weakness hiding behind the usual scowl.

"Ceremony?" wondered Gojo, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "What did you guys do in there without me?" he asked, trying to suppress a nervous grin. 

"Uh," Megumi began uncertainly. "Didn't Y/N tell you?"

"Told me about what?" he inquired, smiling forcefully. There was silence on the other end, and the longer it lasted, the harder his heart began to pound. It pounded loudly and painfully, breaking all his arrogance and confidence in his own actions. "Megumi, told me about what?" 

Before his heart could stop, there was a rustling sound as if Megumi had pulled the phone as close to him as possible. "Kyle's dead."

They'd never been close. A few insults and promises to kick each other's asses were all they had in common. However, Gojo wasn't hurting for himself right now.

That's why you called him last night. You had called him twice in a row, and while Gojo had hesitated to answer the first call, the second one had made him throw the phone away. He'd been told that many times, directly or veiledly, jokingly or seriously, but as soon as he waved his hand, the words evaporated before they reached his soul. He couldn't even look up now, though. For the first time he felt like nothing.  

Sitting at the empty dining room table, Rachel stared out the window as if there were something more mesmerizing than the everyday sunset. Whether she prayed, pleaded, or argued, the inhabitants of heaven were adamant or deaf. The angels and their arrows did not care about human suffering.

Gojo was sure she heard the front door slam, so why didn't she turn around? The only thing that moved was her fingers, which scrabbled against the tabletop, occasionally touching the crystal ashtray that held at least twenty or so cigarette butts. The ashes smeared awkwardly against the table were like feelings - neither reversed nor returned, only wiped away with a damp cloth. "Hey," Gojo sounded muffled in spite of his ringing voice. "Sorry for your loss," Rachel never turned around. No nod of her head, no greeting. "Um... You know where Y/N is? Is she still in town?"  

"Why would I know where your monster is," she mumbled. Despite her slurred words, there was no bottle or glass on the table in front of her. Apparently, her father's influence was taking its toll.

"Uh? You're her sister," he said with a perplexed shrug.

Rachel clicked her tongue lazily, not taking her eyes off the window. "I wish I wasn't."

"Oh, I see," he drawled, an arrogant smirk in his voice. "So you're the poor unfortunate girl. The only one who lost someone, huh?" he tilted his head sideways, looking at your sister. There was no child sitting in front of him, so where did such childish behavior come from? "Grow up already."

Rachel sat still for a few seconds, then slowly turned her body and stared at Gojo with empty eyes. He'd come to her house, to her family, hung around her sister, failed to show up at her brother's funeral, and dared to mock her.

"Tranquillity."   

Gojo remained standing as he was. He realized that something had happened; even though he wasn't shackled, he felt strange as if the chain did exist and it was beginning to be slowly pulled around his neck. "Is that all you got?" he asked excitedly. There was only one desire burning in him now - to test the limits of his own abilities. 

If she'd had the strength to smile, her face would have contorted into a mad grimace, but right now Rachel just kept watching him. Nothing reflected in her glassy eyes. No surprise, no satisfaction. "What were ya saying about your infinity?" she asked blankly, not expecting an answer. It was not enough for her. If he couldn't feel the mental pain, let him feel the physical.

"Tranquillity."

She was ready to tear him and his equanimity. Thin black strips crawled along her fingers, wrapping around every inch of tanned skin.

It was hard for him to breathe, but the reverse technique was doing its job - it broke the chains time after time, but they were put back on, each one thicker than the last. His hand flew involuntarily to his throat.

"Rachel, that's enough!" shouted Frank, rushing down from the second floor. He hadn't even had time to change - he was still wearing his black suit. "I said STOP!" he howled, and Rachel's head popped up. When the chains of dark energy stopped restraining Gojo, he began gasping for air.

Frank walked over to him, and taking him by the shoulder, looked him over anxiously. "Son, ya okay?" Gojo nodded, rubbing his throat. "And ya," he turned angrily to his daughter. "What the hell ya doing?"  

Rachel showed an emotion other than total absence for the first time in a day. She laughed bitterly. "I'm just wondering why everyone is defending her."

"I don't know who exactly ya talking about," the man hissed. "But we have a duty to protect her because she's our family."

Rachel laughed even harder, and the louder her laugh was, the crazier it sounded. "Mom never carried her under her heart! She's here because you're a hearty idiot! You just felt sorry-"

"Shut your mouth!" snapped Frank sharply.

"I won't!" she yelled, jumping up from her chair. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for her! I just want to come home and know that Kyle will meet me! Alive!" she gasped, muffling her own sobs. "And now he's gone. All because ya took pity on her once! You should have just left her to them," she whimpered weakly, her head collapsing onto her chest.

"You don't feel well. Go to your room," Frank ordered softly.

She glared sharply at him, for ire gave her strength. "Ya can't tell me what to do!"

"I am your father. Sure I can," he replied firmly, and though he kept his voice low, it sounded much louder than his daughter's screams. 

"Obedience."

Rachel groaned painfully and tried to keep her legs in place, but they were trying to get off the floor against her will. "Fuck you," she spat out, and then she went up the stairs and disappeared to the second floor.

Gojo watched Frank anxiously. The man was breathing heavily, staring after his daughter and rubbing his chest as if his heart were painfully throbbing. His arm was covered in dark, wriggling stripes, and when Frank's legs started to wobble, Gojo picked him up immediately. "Hey, hey, oldman," he gibbered worriedly. "What's the matter?" he dragged Frank to the couch, and sitting him down, poured him some water. 

"Thanks, son," the man took the glass with a shaky hand and took a couple sips. "Sorry for no warm welcome today. We're all on edge right now," setting the water aside, Frank pulled back the collar of his shirt. The dark lines wrapping around his collarbones almost reached his heart. "Shit...and here I thought I can live to fight another day," he grinned grimly.

Frank wasn't a fool. He may not have been the smartest man, but he had a lot of experience under his belt. He saw no anger or irritation on Gojo's face at what had happened, just the faded blue eyes. "Lost someone?" the man asked.

Gojo nodded briefly without looking up. "Yeah," he said quietly. 

"She's in the church now," Frank prompted politely. "She went to give some things away, so... You'll find her there."

"Do you really think I'd leave an old man with a heart attack?" clinging to the remnants of his temper, Gojo glanced slyly at Frank.

He got a fatherly slap, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to set him straight. "Go already," Frank growled, and Gojo didn't bother to argue or bicker with him. Rubbing his aching heart, Frank barely waited for the door to slam shut. "Ya left too soon, Kyle," he sobbed, digging his fingernails into the blackened skin. "They still need your care."   

You dragged the boxes to the far corner hidden behind the columns and unlit by hundreds of candles. You did it as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the praying parishioners. On days like this, the church came alive. The hall filled with light from the fire was crowded with people, and those who did not have enough room in the pews reverently said their prayers on the floor, on their knees. Everyone was silent, all those present turned only to God. Paradoxically, it only took one dead person to do this. On other days, the place was not gloomy, but rather empty - all the voices of those who came here echoed off the walls.

You could barely lift the boxes as if each one weighed a ton. When you would sneak quietly into a corner with a box, your forearms would ache terribly and you would want to drop everything or carry it back home. Were clothes always this heavy? Or was it the weight of parting?

When you reached the last box, you took your time putting it down. You held it tightly to you as if you were hugging it, and sat down on the floor next to the rest of the things. Watching the people in the gap between the columns, you wondered - perhaps you should have done the same. No one had ever explained what silent prayers could do. It was something intimate, something that remained only between man and the creature from above.

Man is all-powerful. Man is fragile. A person can move mountains or they can break their heel jumping off the bench. Person loves and hates, misses and has fun, makes mistakes and feats, but they forget that all this exists only because of them. Without them there would be neither conquered mountains, nor love nor hate.

And then the man dies.

"Y/N," a soft voice addressed you. "Don't sit on the cold floor. You'll catch a cold," you looked up and saw the Holy Father holding out his hand to you.

Setting the box aside with the rest of Kyle's belongings, you took his palm and stood up, shaking off your feet. "Kalev," you awkwardly tried to shove the boxes away so they wouldn't get in the way. "Um... Thank ya for performing the ceremony."

"What are you talking about?" wondered the Holy Father quietly. He was still dressed in his ceremonial robes, and unlike the others, it was completely white except for the wide collar - it was embroidered with silver threads. "Of course, I agreed to it. I don't care about the rumors. We're all human, and we deserve to go to the other world accompanied by a God."

"Yeah," you muttered, faltering and not looking up. "I guess ya're right."

"What's troubling you?" he asked worriedly, barely touching your hand. "We can always talk," seeing your gaze flicker around the church, he squeezed your palm harder, trying to reassure you.

You knew what awaited you behind those columns, away from the congregation. A small, cramped room that separated the speakers by a mesh partition. "There's no way I'm going to the confessional," you grinned nervously, feeling the back of your neck sweat.

"I didn't say anything about confession," the Holy Father smiled modestly. "I was talking about ordinary human interaction," the man spoke the most ordinary words, but the aura around him radiated a light-winged warmth as if he really was protected by a god. "I will always be happy to talk to you, Y/N," he continued to hold your hand in his, wrinkled and cognizant of the years that carried not only his joys and sorrows, but others' as well. "But it seems to me that someone else wants to talk to you now."

His kind gaze didn't change a bit as he looked over your shoulder. When he let go of your hand, he nodded softly, ordering you to go. As if it were a command from above, you turned around.

You couldn't see his face in the shadow of the columns, but you knew who it was. You walked past Gojo and sat down on the step without even looking at him. Since it was the will of the shadows, let the expression on his face remain a mystery to you forever. "I'm sorry," came the husky voice that had always been ringing and cheerful.

"Me too," you replied detachedly, watching the deserted town.

He carefully sat down beside you, keeping his distance. "Why didn't you tell me what happened?"

"So ya didn't see the calls and texts after all."

"I saw, but...," the heated tiles beneath his feet began to crumble. Gojo had heard once of that feeling of the ground leaving beneath one's feet, but no one had warned him that it would do so slowly. "If you only texted me about what happened, I would be here right away."

"Why," you couldn't even catch the sarcasm in the impersonality of your voice. "Did something like this really have to happen for ya to finally pick up the phone and say ya 'kay?"

So that was it. You didn't ask for help or pity. You just wanted to be reassured that he was okay. "I really am an asshole," there was none of his usual sass in his voice. Just the realization crashing down on him like a slab of granite, crushing all arrogance and carelessness. "I'm sorry. I'm not- I'm just- God," he buried his face in his palms. "I can't even find the right words."

"Whatever," you said, and your alienation did not catch his despair. "I still have more to think about besides another person being disappointed in me."

"No, no, no. It's not like that at all," he mumbled in a weak voice. He cupped your face. To his surprise, you gave in effortlessly as if you were a rag doll. "Only a brainless idiot would be disappointed in you," he leaned his forehead against yours. "And I'm an idiot, but I have brains. Right?" he asked you, and noticing the faintly familiar wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, he smiled, even though his eyes were glistening treacherously.

"If you had brains, you'd run away," you didn't realize that both his mind and his heart had been screaming to the contrary for a long time. That's why he was here now, in front of you and with you, all broken with naked soul. 

Gojo pressed you tighter against him and even pushed you back a little, so as not to disturb the exiting parishioners, but you didn't notice anything. On the other hand, he noticed everything, right down to the way you burrowed harder into his neck when someone walked past you. "Mochi," he rubbed his nose softly against the top of your head. "Is anyone home?"

"No," you replied without raising your head. "All here in Hopetown."

Not to a grieving Rachel, not to a worried Frank, not to a maelstrom of hissing hunters - he didn't want to give you to anyone. Gojo hoped you would understand his selfish desire. "Let's go home then, 'kay?" he whispered and, stunned by the church bells and the beating of his own heart, he kissed you shyly on the temple - your very first kiss. 

You washed away today - all the water running down the drain, taking the dust, sweat, anger, and pain with it. You tried not to disturb your mental equilibrium, and one way to maintain it was with a routine. After smearing moisturizers on your body and applying balm to your hair, you wrapped yourself in a robe and stood in front of the dresser with your clothes. Gojo wanted you to open up - it was time to start somewhere. 

You had no idea what was waiting for you on the floor above. You'd agreed to just watch something, but Gojo was running around the kitchen trying to make a quick meal. He's already gotten it into his head that you're an omnivore. Maybe there were some exceptions like boiled carrots or something, but he didn't like those things too, which meant you'd find something to your liking from all the things he'd quickly cooked and panic-bought at an unknown store - in his state of chaos, Gojo didn't even realize where he'd teleported to. Garlic croutons, mozzarella cheese balls, baked shrimp in bacon, nachos with chili sauce, a few chocolate bars - cholesterol plaques. Everything just the way you liked it. "Well... Acceptable," he muttered, eyeing the edibles.

"What is it?" you asked, peering out from behind his forearm. Gojo didn't even jump - he was used to living in this house with the thought that you could be behind him at any moment. He was ready for anything. Or he thought so until he turned around. 

You were wearing regular pajama pants. Avocado, kitten, funny writing, or solid colors - he'd seen them all. But instead of the usual closed shirt, you were wearing a top. A little stretched and faded, but it hid almost nothing. "Uh," you drawled uncertainly, noticing the lost expression on Gojo's face. "Is something wrong?" you took a step back.  

Gojo had long suspected what was under your clothes, and his suspicions were confirmed. Scars of all kinds - sunken, bumpy, torn, and stretched - adorned your skin, layered on top of each other. The whitish-pink indentations on your wrists were like bracelets, and your throat was covered with many thin tightened cuts, like a dried bloody necklace.  

That wasn't what Gojo was interested in. He knew that if he gave it a single thought, he would be consumed by rage, which was good only in battle and only if it was cold. However, in helpless rage one could only find the road to self-defeat. Anyway, a trigger clicked quietly in his head.   

Kill them all.

"N-no, it's okay," Gojo mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your naked arms, shoulders, collarbones, and neck - it made it seem as if you'd exposed more than just a part of your body. "Y-you just- uh," he panted quietly and tried to brush away the unruly white strands that tickled his burning face with his hands. "You took me by surprise," he mumbled awkwardly, raising his eyes to you again.

"Well, I just wish I could wear something like that sometimes too. At least in your workroom," you shrugged. "When I told ya ya could sleep over sometimes, I didn't think ya'd end up living there," you chuckled, not noticing how the man in front of you was being pulled further and further into the abyss by the shame.

"Sorry, I- Uh, I-I just...," Gojo kept stammering like a flustered teenager, and his hands couldn't find their place - he was trying to shove them into his pockets, then cross them over his chest, then fix his hair again. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that," he admitted timidly. 

"Nothing, it's fine," you smiled, seeing his condition. "If it bothered me too much, I'd tell ya about it, so... Let's just take it all to the TV," you suggested, pointing to the food. Gojo nodded, and you walked over to the dining table. Seeing several bars of chocolate, you looked dumbfounded. "God," you whimpered. "Wait here. I forgot something." 

You had no right to do that. He'd been through too much emotion that day, and this waiting during your sudden outburst only made him more anxious. He tried to rub his face with his hands to get the red paint off it or to cool it down a little, but it was in vain. Even his hands were burning.

Gojo was eager to get everything ready. He moved all the food to the coffee table, fluffed all the pillows on the couch, brought a couple of blankets, turned on the TV and searched for a movie, but nothing worked. He was still in a panic. 

"Here," you drawled uncertainly, rising from the workroom and walking over to him, sitting on the couch and tapping his foot against the floor. "It's hardly tasty, so...," you bit your lip, holding out the chocolate bar to him. "Just a souvenir from the void," you chirped, flopping onto the couch and tucking your legs under you.   

Gojo stared dumbly at the bar of chocolate in the weathered wrapper - it had been pink, but there was no lettering or logo. Did you think of him?  Was there really room in your head for him in the midst of the cold and the demons, the half-dead people and the unknown? When you were all alone and didn't know how to get out? "I won't eat it, I guess," he said weakly, though he tried to smile slyly.

"Prissy," you snorted, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it at him. "Crank up TV."

You've seen several movies, but Gojo didn't understand any of them. The plot, the acting, the locations - he couldn't remember any of it, even though he was staring straight at the screen. Thoughts were rushing around in his head, and his side vision was emphasizing you. You were eating with an envious appetite on whatever he'd cooked or bought, which made him bury his face harder into the pillow he was cradling against his chest. Was it fair that you were so comfortable around him? Was he the only one in this room with a heart that was out of place?    

"That's it," you sighed tiredly, stretching. "I'm full and I can't move," you said, throwing the pillow on the couch and flopping down on it, keeping your legs tucked in so you wouldn't disturb Gojo. 

Okay, it may have been unfair, but it was rarely otherwise in this world. He made that decision on his own. If you were knocked out and made to run away by his attempts to get closer to you, he was willing to back off, but just one step back. No further. Everything was fine as long as you let him stay by your side in this room, on the same couch, eating mozzarella cheese balls he'd made.

"Hey," you poked your foot gently into his thigh. "You're falling asleep," you said, watching his eyelids slip shut. "At least lie down." 

Gojo glanced sleepily at the door; he didn't want to go down to the workroom. He sighed tiredly and lay down behind you. In a strangely familiar habit, he put his arm around your waist - your back was pressed against his chest. "Mochi," Gojo whispered gently into your shoulder, realizing it was time for a risky endeavor. "Look, this might seem weird to you, but... Is it just me or are you and Rachel not getting along?" 

He furrowed his brows at his own insolence, though he hadn't been bothered by those devils pulling his tongue before. You remained silent, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb, an action that made him relax a little. "We fight with her a lot," you finally uttered. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I just heard something I wasn't supposed to hear," he admitted honestly. "She said things like, uh... It's not like a common fight."

"She rarely watches her tongue," a shaky exhale escaped you, and Gojo, burrowing deeper into your neck, tried with all his might to show he was there for you. "Rachel, she's... She's not the bad person. It was just a bad day, that's all," he felt you squeeze his hand harder as if you were trying to hold him in place. "Besides... She has a right to be mad at me." 

He squeezed your hand in response. "Why?"

"I killed her husband."

You sat in the huge wooden barn, surrounded by sleeping cattle. The thin hay stung your skin even through your clothes, but you didn't dare move; you sat obediently as you had been told. The strong wind made the barn door wobble as if it were about to swing open. Nothing could be heard outside, only the long whistle of the night air through the cracks.

You tried irritably to wipe the dried blood off your hands, your skin itching and aching in places as you tried so hard to get rid of the scarlet liquid. With the quiet sleepy snorting of the animals and the shoving of another straw away from you, you wondered angrily. What had gone wrong? Where had you miscalculated? And where the fuck did Frank go?

No matter how fast or slow the time dragged on, he was already late. Did he really think that if he told you to sit still and keep your nose clean, he could disappear as long as he wanted?  

As irritation began to turn to frustration, the barn door swung open, banging loudly against the wall. "Shit," mumbled Frank to the howling wind that blew in. He examined the door, and making sure it was still on its hinges, closed it back with force.

You immediately jumped to your feet, approaching him. "Well? How bad is it?" you worried.

He put his arm around your shoulders, forcing you back into the haystack and sat down beside you. The stack immediately sagged, nearly flattening to the floor. "I'm not gonna lie. It's pretty bad," Frank admitted on an exhale.

"Hunters?"

"There's less than half of them left."

"And the people?" you asked hopefully.

"Everyone was slaughtered," Frank reported grimly, patting you comfortingly on the knee.

"Wonderful," you said desolately. "They were the first people we brought out of the void, and for what? So that a couple weeks later they could just be killed?"

"It's okay," the man put his arm around you, and noticing the deep cut on your eyebrow, touched it - dark lines immediately began to tighten it. "The important thing is that we're still alive."

"What... What's up with the plantation?" you asked through force, expecting the worst.

Your expectations were confirmed. "Burned down along with the village," Frank said threateningly quietly. "We don't have the black orchid anymore."

You jumped to your feet again, and even Frank's heavy hand couldn't hold you in place. You started pacing from side to side, wringing your hands nervously. "That's fucking bullshit," you bellowed. "Hunters have lived there for centuries, has anyone ever attacked?" at your rhetorical question Frank still shook his head. "Then what the hell? Did someone turn us in?"

"I have no clue," the man shook his head contritely. "We'll have to think about it on a fresh head. Right now it's better to rest."

Because of your worries and the excitement of the elements of nature, you did not hear someone knocking shyly on the barn door. The guest, not waiting to be answered, opened the door themselves.

You turned around, but Frank had already managed to step forward and covered you with his back. "Oh, Noah," he exhaled, and his body relaxed. "Thanks for bailing us out," Frank said, and he wasn't so hard at covering you anymore. Peeking out from behind his shoulder, you met the worried gaze of a man who was wrapping himself more tightly in a fur vest.

"It's nothing," Noah muttered, shivering from the cold. "But you can't stay here for long," he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Don't think I'm chasing you out of here. It's just that they... They might find out through me that you're here."

"Don't worry. We'll wait out the night and leave at dawn," the insider nodded uncertainly at Frank's assurance and took a step backward, slamming his back into the wall. The clattering pitchfork made him jump up and he stormed out of the barn. "I dunno where to go, though," he admitted aloud.

"Then you'll come to our house," you said in a voice that didn't tolerate bickering.

"I doubt the hunters would agree," grinned Frank sadly.

"Let them go to motels then. I don't care," you waved it off, settling back on the haystack. "We ain't done with that settlement yet anyway. Those people need a place to live, and without hunters, there'll be more room in the house."

"Still... The house isn't rubber, after all," the man frowned.

"We have to rebuild the village," you tried to cheer Frank up. "Somewhere on the edge of the Earth. And this time we'll have to think seriously about how to protect it."   

***

Two months had passed since the bloody incident, and you were on tenterhooks again. It was comforting to know that you weren't the only one in that state. Kyle was sitting next to you on the couch in the hallway of the infirmary. He jumped up, walking to the closed door of the chamber, and then sat back down. Involuntarily watching his fidgeting, you began to get even more nervous. Doc had never taken so long to examine a patient before; had something terrible happened to Rachel?

Your brother wouldn't stop - he would pop his head up every now and then when there was a rustling and mumbling outside the door. "Ya're not helping. Sit down," you turned to him exhaustedly as he once again got up from the couch.

You shivered as the doc's replica rushed past you. The same white coat, the same hands that clutched the clipboard and pen, only the replica never had a face. A blank canvas with no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Doc was always good at optimization, but the implementation was sometimes horrifying.

You both rose from your seats as doc left the ward and closed the door behind him. Clutching the clipboard to his chest, he stared at you over his glasses. "Congratulations," he said glumly. "She's pregnant."

"What?" you both simultaneously blurted out, and were reflections of each other - both amazed, right down to your open mouths.

"I mean, it's...," began a panting Kyle. "That's great!"

"Go to her," Doc nodded, but as you took a step toward the room, he grabbed your arm. "Not you. In my office. Now," Doc hissed and immediately rushed off in the direction of his office. You and Kyle looked at each other dazedly, and after a little while, you headed after doc.

As you closed the office door, you saw doc fidgeting with his medical records, and when he found the right one, he began to flip through the pages. "Doc, what's the matter?" you worried, watching as he began to write something down. The pen was almost tearing the paper.

"Sit down," he called out without raising his eyes. You obediently took the chair and moving it closer to the desk, sat down. "I won't beat around the bush," he tossed the medical records aside and interlocking his fingers, stared at you again. "Rachel has uterine hypoplasia. Or rather, she had uterine hypoplasia."

"Uh," you began confusedly, digging around doc's desk with your eyes, not sure why. Maybe looking for answers. "Can we use human language?"

"Undeveloped uterus," doc chided. "Specifically in her case, no bigger than this thing here," he tossed a pencil eraser under your nose. "I examined her from top to bottom just a month and a half ago, everything was the same. And now she's pregnant," he said coldly.

"She never told me anything about her disease," you said wistfully, thoughtfully twirling a pencil eraser in your hands.

"She suspected her reproductive problems, but I never told her anything about her disease," doc explained glumly. "Rob wanted kids too much, and I wanted to find a solution to that problem before I told them everything," he grimaced as he watched you put the eraser back on the table. "But the problem seems to have been solved for me."

"Couldn't ya... Ya know, recover her or something?" you suggested weakly, crossing your arms.

"I can only replicate what is already available. Not create new things," doc shook his head, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table.

"So what ya getting at?" you asked, the corners of your lips involuntarily creeping upward, and there was no way you could stop that panicked nervous smile.

Was it because of this that a few months ago you all literally drowned in blood and lifeless bodies? Was the price of all this something ephemeral, something that had not yet come into this world? You didn't want to believe it, and you hoped that none of you would say it out loud.

Doc was of a different opinion. He was always satisfied only with truth and facts, and it didn't matter what they carried with them. "If you don't believe in God, I suggest you to start," he said, leaning back in his chair. "After all, if this isn't a miracle of God, I'll laugh in the face of anyone who says it's just a coincidence."  

***

Rachel didn't have any of those weird wants - no cucumbers with chocolate, no honey and chips, no chalk - but her appetite was growing by the day. Because of her cravings, you could go to the store several times a day, only to have her tell you afterwards that she didn't want it anymore. Just like that, you were shoving now unwanted strawberries into the fridge. The container crumpled from the force you exerted, and the walls of it turned scarlet - unable to withstand such violence, the poor strawberry simply burst.

When you heard your sister's mumbling from the couch again, you spread your arms out to the sides with all your fingers together, closed your eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths to catch the slipping calm. You weren't supposed to be angry, Rachel was pregnant. This behavior was normal.

"What the hell ya doing there?" whined Rachel, peering out from behind the back of the couch. "The show's already starting."

"I'm coming," you muttered, slamming the refrigerator door shut. As soon as you sat down on the couch, she immediately laid her head on your lap, not caring at all about the way your legs were going to cramp up. Sighing, you started stroking her red curls, realizing where this was going. "Ya can't sleep on the couch forever. It's bad for your back."

"Back off," she snorted, fidgeting and tugging the blanket over her. "What can I do? Rob stinks."

"What's that he smells like?" you laughed softly.

"How should I know?" she whined for the umpteenth time this week. "He just stinks. I get nauseous around him all the time."

"Ya sure it's about the smell?" you asked casually, smirking eagerly, for which you received a hard slap on the thigh. "Ouch!" Rachel only frowned more at your exclamation and squirmed harder into a ball, not taking her eyes off the TV. "Rach... How did ya even realize ya were pregnant?"

"Well...," she drawled thoughtfully. "I got my period first. When it first start when you're thirteen it's normal, but when you're in your early twenties... I had a real panic attack," she laughed merrily, remembering her flighty state. "I thought I had vaginal cancer or something."

"Rachel," you giggled quietly along with her.

After calming down a bit, she continued. "I went to the doc right away, and he calmed me down, saying I was just menstruating. Only he was looking unkindly at my medical records. Dunno, maybe I imagined it. Just a couple weeks later, I got so sick...," she whimpered, placing a hand on her still growing belly. "I thought I had poisoned myself with something, but Rob kept following me around and insisting to take a pregnancy test. So, it just happened," she pressed her palm harder against her lower abdomen, and she could have sworn she felt another heartbeat even though her common sense screamed that it was too early for that. "Ya think I'll be a good mom?" she asked muffled, almost bashfully.

"Uh...," you drawled surreptitiously, playing with a strand of her hair. "I guess so? Actually, it depends on the kid, too. It's a matter of luck," you shrugged, trying to choose your words. "If it's a gifted child - fine, but if it's not... Well, then ya'll be scrubbing shit off the walls," you giggled, which earned you another hard slap to the knee. "That hurts!" you squeaked.

The fact that she was unaware of it was neither comfort nor relief. The deeper you went into your thoughts, the more your hands shook as if your mind were a labyrinth, its icy walls stretching to the edge of heaven, leaving no way out. You didn't know if you had to do it or if you just wanted to, but it seemed like the best solution.

Toxicosis is a terrible thing. Either a woman eats a lot and then vomits, or she eats nothing at all and still vomits. After a few trips to the bathroom with Rachel, she finally fell asleep. You carefully put a pillow under her head instead of your lap and headed to the second floor.

You didn't spend more than a minute in there. All you had to do was walk as quietly as possible past the sleeping Rob, steal his phone, and carry it into the workroom. Trifling matter, but when you got to the desk, you couldn't bring yourself to plug the phone into the computer. You felt like you were shackled, and the more you resisted, the harder the shackles dug into your skin - a familiar feeling that made you collapse helplessly into the chair.

"Need help?" the suave mechanical voice was like a nudge or just a key to all the chains for you.

"Meg," you addressed the artificial intelligence, finally plugging the cable into the computer. "Find something," you sobbed raggedly, watching as his phone lit up, announcing that the connection had been successful. "Find something that says he had nothing to do with this."

***

Vito looked at you as if you were mentally unstable. Everyone else had left to celebrate the completion of Hopetown, and you were the only one sitting in the kitchen, in absolute silence and total darkness. No garland was lit. No crickets were chirping. No cold wind rushing in.

Doc probably only told you about it because he knew Rob was Kyle's best friend. He wouldn't have been able to judge impartially, and there was no telling which evil would show its face. A desperate attempt at vindication, or a brutal, agonizing murder. "Eh," Vito sighed, wrapping elastic bandages around his legs. "I was born to drink beer, not this stuff," he glanced at you sneakily. "And why aren't ya at the party?"

"I felt sorry for ya," you joked back.

"Come on," Vito said cheerfully. "I bet next year someone else will get a shift on those dates, and I'll make up for it then."

After waiting for him to lace up his boots and put on his mask, you got up and went to see him off. When you got to the training field, the same point from which every voidrunner departed, Vito nodded, and after telling you to drink a bottle of beer for him, disappeared in a purple flash.

You walked around the place where the man had been a few seconds ago, took a dozen steps toward the forest, and turned around, leaving footprints in the snow. The clammy anticipation of the inevitable made your palms sweat. The clouds of vapor coming out of your mouth were jagged, intermittent, but not from the cold, for all you felt was desolation.

You could feel his presence, but you couldn't sense his thoughts or his moods. You ran a hundred excuses in your head for him, but none of them fit. Your gut shook more and more as he approached. Before the purple flash was even born, you covered your eyes with your hand.

Rob didn't look hurt or tired, only frantically shaking something off his sides with his hands, unaware that there was someone standing ten paces behind him. Someone with obvious motives, someone with courage and no sympathy. Perhaps if he'd paid attention to the fresh footprints, he might have been able to do something about it.

"Relocate."

There was no longer a field beneath your feet - it was a scaffold. One of your hands rested on his shoulder, and the other, clutching the dagger, was between his shoulder blades. The dagger cut the flesh silently, so your conscience was silent, too. It was very quiet. No sobs, no whimpering. Only when you twisted the dagger and pulled it sharply from Rob's heart was there a gurgling wheeze.

The man tried to turn around, but he didn't have time - his legs gave up before he could. He fell to his knees, and only after a few long moments, collapsed face first into the ground.

You'd always loved the sight of blood running down a back - a sure sign that the reaper had gone unnoticed. You watched blankly as the scarlet puddle spread beneath Rob, desecrating the pure white color, and you never realized that this was the first murder you'd ever committed that didn't make your hands tremble.

Your world froze, but everything continued to live without your participation. To the songs of the white wind under the northern sky, winter was sweeping everything away. The ground, the cooling body, the sins of the living and the dead. The only thing left untouched and naked were your bloody hands.

There were two persons in the field. One was the best friend, the father, the husband. The other was the one who took it all away. 

It was a sudden revelation that was never meant to be spoken, and Gojo froze in place, trying not to scare you away. You took it in your own way, though you tried not to think about how badly you might have spoiled his attitude toward you by telling him about your past. It was better to keep your mouth shut as it had been, and though Gojo was sometimes angry at you for it, you'd never felt like he was about to leave for good before. "Rob never had time to figure out who killed him, and Rachel never found out what happened to him," you continued to drown yourself, forgetting your sense of self-preservation. "I just told her that he never came back from the void," you were disturbed to your shaking knees by this uncertainty - Gojo still had his arm around your waist but remained motionless, you couldn't even hear his breathing above your ear. "I used to reassure myself that it was best for her, that she'd never know what he'd done or how much Mike's life really cost, but... I guess those were just pathetic excuses for a coward like me. That's all."  

"Look at me," though there was nothing commanding in his tone, his hand tugged at your waist, forcing you to turn around. "A real coward wouldn't have done anything and let it go, but not you," Gojo said, stroking your cheek soothingly. He would have given anything for you to look at him now, to feel how sincere his words were, but you only squinted your eyes harder. "I killed Megumi's father," he admitted on an exhale, and you opened your eyelids. "I'm not seeking for attention, it's just...," Gojo mumbled embarrassedly, but didn't take his palm away from your face. "It would be fair of me to admit something in return. And... Uh, he doesn't know about it either." 

"How come?" 

"It's just happened," he grinned bitterly. "He had a person to kill and I was just in the way. To be honest, he kicked my ass pretty good, but it was that bastard that made me stronger," Gojo sighed wistfully at the recollection that seemed to have faded into oblivion. "I never got to protect that person, though," he added more quietly. 

"But ya've protected many others."

"Exactly!" he brightened, burying his nose in your cheek. "So do you. Don't ever forget that, 'kay?" you nodded your head weakly, but it was enough for him. If need be, he was willing to repeat it every day, and it didn't matter that there was a chance he'd pester you to the point where you'd ban him from the workroom forever. He could have come in through the window anyway.

The annoying feeling of worrying for someone had long ago turned to trepidation, and when Gojo felt you fidget once more, there was no way he could keep another question inside him. "How long ago did you stop sleeping?" your stunned stupor made him chuckle. "It's not like I'm a blind fool. You said you were gonna sleep in the other room, but when you're home, you don't leave the workroom at all." 

You climbed under the blanket and pressed your forehead against his chest. "Ya've reached your limit of questions for today," you muttered sullenly, pouting your lips.

The only reaction he had to your behavior was tenderness. You may not have remembered it, but he'd seen you asleep once. In this very same spot, on this very same couch, which was illuminated by the light from the TV. He remembered covering a restless you with a blanket and sitting next to you all night, pretending to watch cartoons. "Come here," Gojo whispered softly into the top of your head. "Come here," taking advantage of your lack of comprehension, he rolled over onto his back, wrapped both arms around your waist, and laid you on top of him with enviable ease. His arms closed around you in case you decided to run away, even though he realized that if you wanted to disappear, you would. But you remained motionless, leaning your head against his chest. "Try to get some sleep, 'kay?"   

The song of his heart was fast and feverish, but it wasn't annoying. In the timid embrace of such a rare guest as a dream, you heard another melody, unfamiliar one. The longer this melody was played, the more embrace became tender and stronger, but did an ordinary dream know how to embrace like that? 

Gojo hummed softly to himself, hardly saying any words. It was a muffled melody, and he doubted you could hear it. Either way, you began to fidget less and to raise your head less often, looking around the space with a blurred gaze. "Shh," he hushed quietly as you jumped up once more and gently returned your head back to his chest. "It turns out you're snuffling. You knew that?" after all, he had already kissed you once, would it make it worse if he did it again? Gojo didn't remember himself as his lips covered everything they could reach with tender kisses. "My baby," he whispered softly, touching with his lips the spreading black lines on your forehead. "You're so beautiful," he breathlessly babbled nonsense into your blackened hair and smiled foolishly, but his face changed immediately as if someone was trying hard to take you away from him. "I'll always be there for you. I promise."  

You were pushed from side to side as if you weighed nothing, but it wasn't anyone's fault. There were more people in the bar this time, but everyone was still as drunk and happy as ever. When you heard the threatening creak, you unconsciously bounced. An old wooden sign fell where you had just been standing. A cheeky hooting sounded, profanity was heard everywhere, and a bottle smashed against the wall a few feet away. You ducked as if you were in a battlefield and headed for the familiar staircase.

It was still the same fog of cigarette smoke, but it was a lot calmer. Maybe it was the quiet people who gathered here or maybe it was the influence of the sullen-looking bartender. He was still polishing the glasses.

No one was interested in anyone here. When you walked in, not a single head turned in your direction. The people here were happy in their own way, and they didn't care about anyone else. "Sunshine!" a joyful, familiar voice called out to you.

When you looked over, you saw Kyle sitting at a round table. He had a glass of light beer in front of him, and judging by his blissful look, it wasn't his first glass. He was surrounded by painfully familiar faces, but that pain carried with it only surprise. Vito was slyly pouring more alcohol into Kyle's glass, and your brother's shoulder was gripped tightly by a man's hand. Rob sat next to him, encouraging them both.

"Hey guys," you smiled, taking a seat across from them.

"Hey! Why ya sitting so far away?" whined Kyle drunkenly, holding out his arms to you. "Come here!" you looked at this picture through your fingers. Shifting your gaze to Rob, you saw him raise his eyebrows guiltily.  

"I see ya two are best friends again?" you asked snidely, pulling Kyle's beer glass to you. Kyle was drunk, but he was able to focus and send you a questioning look, even though you thought his eyes were about to drift apart.

"All right, lad, let's go bring ya to your senses," Vito announced businesslike, lifting Kyle by the shoulders in one jerk.

"Oh my," you said meaningfully, watching as Vito dragged Kyle's collapsed body on his back. "It's not even a day later, and he's already on a roll."

"He's been looking out for ya all his life," Rob reminded you, laughing. "He's long overdue for a rest," he sighed as the door to the restroom slammed shut behind the men. An awkward silence hung. You had a lot to say to each other, and only one of you needed the courage to start. "Ya mad?" asked Rob quietly, looking into your eyes.

"No," you replied simply, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. "I'm not."

"Ya didn't tell him?" he nodded his head in the direction of the restroom.

"Kyle's not stupid. I think he figured it all out on his own."

"I just...," he began tentatively, and all his movements seemed awkward, embarrassed. Rob scratched the back of his head thoughtfully before continuing. "I just want ya to know. I don't regret anything."

"Yep," you chirped, sipping from Kyle's glass and immediately grimaced. You sighed heavily, wanting as soon as possible to say goodbye forever to the feeling that made your soul clench into a helpless lump. "Me too."

"That's your style," Rob laughed and immediately relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "How's... How's my baby boy?"

"Mike is fine. He's nothing like ya," you stated, wrinkling your nose. "Not in looks, not in personality."

"It's for the best," he said, raising his glass as if his words were a toast. Taking a sip from the glass, Rob set it back on the table with a thud. "And how's my wife?"

"She is okay," you lied, shrugging indifferently. "Ya know her. She can handle anything."

"Oh yeah," he drawled meaningfully, stretching and putting his hands on the back of his head. "I never thanked ya," he started laughing softly again, and you realized what he was getting at.

"Kyle brought ya two together, not me," you tried unsuccessfully to remind him, but Rob was already flying in his memories.

"He just gave me her number and some idiotic advice," he waved it off carelessly. "And ya," he literally jabbed his finger at you. "Ya're the one who told me to bring a bouquet of garlic bread and dried squid instead of flowers on our first date," you clucked your tongue and involuntarily hid half your face in your palms, hoping he'd get your sign and not continue. "And how she chased it all with beer, mmm," he thought blissfully, closing his eyes. "I was all gone," he chuckled again. "Here comes our drunk," he announced, nodding toward a sobered Kyle.

He looked like he was being dragged to trial. His face was still wet and red, and he clutched his clenched hands to his chest with all his might. "I'm sorry," he said quietly to you, sitting down next to you. "I forgot myself a little," he stared guiltily at the table, not daring to look you in the eye.

"You deserve it," you reminded him, shoving him gently with your shoulder. Suddenly, on cue, a thought popped into your head as if your mind was a jewelry box and someone had just put a piece of jewelry in there. "By the way, Kyle," you chirped, reaching into your pocket with your hand. You didn't take it with you, you didn't even think about it, so why did you have it? "Ya left something," you said, holding out a silver bracelet to him.

"Oh shit!" worried Kyle, taking the jewelry from your hands and placing it on his wrist. "I thought it was gone forever..."

"Don't lose it anymore," you jokingly chastised him.

"Thank ya," he wrapped his arms around you and began kissing your face, and you wrinkled unhappily at the touch of wet black strands against your skin.

When he was done with his affection, you unceremoniously pushed the beer glass away from him. You decided to stay out of the men's conversations and musings - they'd been gone too long already. You'd heard stories about their first dates, their first fights, and there seemed to be some generational difference between Vito, Kyle and Rob.

Kyle wouldn't be himself if he hadn't noticed your state of mind even in the midst of a cheerful conversation. He could see your desperate gaze circling the bar, searching for someone. "Sunshine...," he began, taking your hand. "I'm sorry, but she's not coming tonight."

"I thought so."

You're just now noticing that there's been music playing in the bar the whole time. Quiet, but energetic. You only realized this because your brother looked playfully into your eyes. "Shall we dance?"

"Kyle, I can't dance," you protested weakly, flinching away.

"Just a twitch, then," he chuckled, taking you under the arm and pulling you from the table.

There wasn't a single person here dancing. Maybe they didn't know it was allowed or maybe they just didn't want to. Either way, no one paid any attention to you. Everything merged in your clumsy movements, and did so tightly that it ceased to exist at all. You forgot what happened yesterday and didn't know what would happen tomorrow, the only thing that mattered to you now was Kyle dancing and laughing right in front of you. He was alive and whole, and no one tore him apart. He still loved and supported you even when you failed.

The two of you, panting and red, Kyle from the exertion and you from the embarrassment, didn't notice as the bar began to empty. People lingered here for a long time, but they left quickly one by one, and now there were empty tables all around you. "Okay, that's it," he put his arm around your shoulders, trying to catch his breath. Kyle saw Rob and Vito already getting ready, slipping their jackets over their shoulders. "Sunshine," he whispered, looking into your eyes confused. "I'm sorry. But we really have to go."

"It's okay," you cheered him up. "I understand everything. Go."

He pulled you hard against him, but at this point, you couldn't feel how much love he actually put into it. "See ya," Kyle whispered into the top of your head, and he could barely pull away from you as if every inch between you was causing him a tremendous amount of pain.

"See ya," you said after him.

The same bartender was still sullenly going about his work as if he had an endless supply of dirty glasses under the bar. When all the door bells rang out, you looked around and realized you were alone in that corner bar again.

The crackle of burning wood in the fireplace and the smell of smoldering timber brought calmness, one of the few states of mind available to them. Not discerning day or night, sun or moon, love or hate, but only pretending to know everything around them, these creatures sat in corners, in shadows, trying to sort out their own affairs. "It's time to stir up the hornet's nest."

Rei reluctantly raised his head. "Hm?" he lazily uttered, examining the ceiling of the room as if the person speaking was sitting there. "If you meant kill them all, there's a different expression for that. You should be around people more often," Rei stuck back into the fashion magazine and slid the whiskey glass closer to him.

"Who has access to the repository with the artifact?" the creature asked, ignoring the barbed remarks.  

"Frank and his kids," Rei replied nonchalantly, admiring the model's sultry skin on one of the pages. He ran his finger across the page. Why instead of a soft smooth texture he didn't feel even a pitiful semblance?

"How fortunate you killed the lad," the creature hissed

"Do I hear sarcasm in your voice?" grinned Ray, looking up again. "Oh, come on," he laughed, grabbing a glass of whiskey, the ice rattling as if it were afraid. "You're the one who advised me to watch out for the redheaded girl. We didn't need the lad. He just got in the way."

"Any luck finding anything out?"

"Nope," Rei muttered, pouting his lips demonstratively. "Her only weaknesses are alcohol and sex. I like her, by the way," a smile slowly formed on his face, and he turned back to the model. Rather, to her sultry skin.

"You can't be entrusted with anything at all," the creature disappointed, and the glass the demon clutched in his hand crackled. The thin glass shattered into hundreds of small shards, but never broke. "We need someone with powers of observation."

Taking a couple deep breaths, Rei came to his senses. "Stop underestimating me. Even if we did have it, the town is protected by relics," he said irritably, carefully setting the glass aside. "They only protect it from demons and dark energy, though. No one said anything about the rest," the indignation was replaced by a mad chuckle so quiet and short it could penetrate anywhere. Under the skin, under the bones, into the heart.

"Is there someone in mind?"

"Yeah, kinda," Rei chirped, wiggling his leg flirtatiously. Maybe he should have done it for nothing because every movement of that body created an rage in him that he couldn't get rid of. The more he spat it out, the harder he let it out, the more it came back to him. There was only one thing that could do it all.

"You're still not happy about something."  

"Give me one good reason why I should stay in this body or I'll change it immediately," he bellowed, tugging on a shirt that was twice his size.

"Have you tried working out?" the voice suggested sincerely and courteously. "They say it builds muscle."

"Why don't I start eating fucking porridge in the morning too?" Rei clenched his teeth in anger, pitching forward.

"You can't change your body right now," the creature warned. The glass, already battered and hitherto standing peaceful on the table, burst. "Your date hasn't happened yet. She needs to see this," there was a huge upside to each creature seeing and hearing what the other creature saw and heard. At least, if it wasn't hiding. Rei moaned quietly, pitifully in pleasure as he saw your image through the prism of the one who spoke to him. "Calm down. It'll be a while yet, but until then... You need to stay in this body. If you hate it so much... I think you could change it a bit."

"That's right," he said cheerfully, taking off his glasses and breaking them in half. Only one small detail remained. Grabbing the shears from the table and going to the mirror, Rei cut off a long black braid in one motion.

next ⊳

[dokeythings]

|me to me| (dokyeom)

dokyeom is spending another night subjecting himself to what is equivalent to torture in his mind. his chest tightens as he holds you in his arms as you cry over some new guy, a situationship that ended brutally. you have been his best friend for years now, being so close that you both know everything about each other. dokyeom can't quite put a time cap on when everything changed, but he's been falling in love with you every single day for the last year. he's been here for you through everything, through every new guy and every date gone wrong. he wants to scream half the time. he wants to shake every single man who's ever gotten to go out with you and snap them into reality. how could they mess up so bad with the most wonderful girl he's ever known? if he was them, he would do it right. he'd never make you cry, that's for sure. you wouldn't be sitting here on a friday night with a broken heart.

"i just really thought he was going to be different this time" you say, choking on your words as you soak his hoodie with tears.

dokyeom sighs, his heart pinching at your sadness, wishing he could take it all away and absorb it for you. he changes his position on the couch, wrapping his arms around you tighter and scooping you into his lap.

"i know, i know. it's okay" he says, not knowing what else to say except to let you cry. you lift your head up off of him for a moment, noticing how wet you have made his hoodie. you feel bad, knowing this has happened one too many times. you are tired of guys leaving you broken like this.

"i'm sorry about that" you say, your eyes drifting down to where your tears soaked the fabric. you look back up at him, meeting his eyes as he shakes his head softly, giving you a shy smile as to say not to worry about it.

"he was an asshole. these douchebags don't deserve you, y/n." he speaks softly, but firmly. his eyes darken, feeling angry as he thinks about said douchebag, and how he would kill him if he could. i would treat you so much better, he thinks. 

you shake your head, disagreeing. "i'm starting to think that maybe its me, kyeom" you admit honestly, laying your head back down on his shoulder. you don't get to rest it there for long as you feel his hand under your chin, lifting your face up to look at him. 

he looks down at you, his eyes sad and gloomy, your self deprecating words feeling like a dagger through his chest. 

"don't say that, y/n. please. you are the most amazing girl, they are fucking stupid" he says, releasing his hand from your chin and running a hand through his own hair. you can see the frustration written all over his face. you're not sure what exactly is causing it, but you are sure that he must be tired of having to comfort you like this all the time. you scoot off his lap and move onto the other side of the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest.

he watches as you create the distance between him, and he sinks deeper into the couch. he wants to tell you he loves you. he wants to tell you that you should be with him, and that he would give you everything you deserve. but he knows you don't feel the same, and he can't risk that. he would lose his best friend, and thats something too precious for him to mess up. he turns towards you, sitting criss cross on the couch as he thinks about how to proceed. you look at him as he opens and closes his mouth a few times, never successfully getting any words out.

"i know this is probably so annoying. i'm sorry, i should just go home" you mumble, pushing yourself up off the couch. you only make it a step before you feel dokyeom gently grab your wrist, pulling you back down.

he feels like crying, but bites his lip as the burning feeling in his throat takes over his mind. he feels like he fucked up, and he doesn't know how to fix it. he doesn't want you to go home. he wants you to stay here and lay with him until everything else disappears and you forget all about every guy who's ever hurt you. 

"i just don't like to see you treated like this. i'm never annoyed, i'm always here for you. please don't push me away" he frowns, looking down at his lap.

you smile to yourself lightly, knowing that he means it when he says he's here for you. you can't think of a time where he wasn't here for you to fall back on, and you do the same for him in a heartbeat. he's always been very protective of you, something your friends always pointed out and constantly nagged you saying that he's in love. you would always roll your eyes, saying that he's your best friend, and you are sure he feels the same way.

he asks a shy "what?" as he notices your smile, fighting back a smile of his own. 

"thank you for always being here for me" you say, meaning it and knowing you don't sat it enough. 

"hey" he shrugs with a smile, "thats what best friends are for". he winces internally as he says the latter, forcing on a smile. your words were sweet, but he wishes he could be there for you in a different way. by the look on your face he can tell you still have things you want to get off your chest, but you're holding back. you can't hide anything from him anymore, he can read you like an open book. he knows you know that.

he moves closer to you on the couch, getting just close enough so that your knees are touching. "please let it all out" he urges softly, patting your knee.

you sigh, knowing you would feel better if you did. "i just don't understand why i can't find a good guy anywhere. is it too much to ask for someone who pays attention to me? someone who knows everything about me without having to say a word? i just want to have someone who feels like an extension of me. to be able to be in a room with them and sit in silence without it being awkward. to come home to someone everyday and feel loved for the first time. i want a guy who will know the perfect dates to take me on, and know my favorite food and my favorite book, and why i hate watching scary movies" you pause, realizing you've been talking for a really long time. "i'm sorry, i'm rambling" you mumble, feeling embarrassed. 

you finally meet his eyes, seeing something in them you've never noticed before. he's fiddling with his fingers, biting his lip as if he's thinking if he wants to say what he's thinking or not. 

"kind of sounds like me, to me" he finally says, so quietly that you almost don't make out what he said. you furrow your eyebrows, confused at the statement. 

"what?" you ask, although you heard every word he said. 

he looks up at you, feeling wavered confidence wash over him for a moment. it's now or never. he clears his throat, speaking louder this time.

"i said that kind of sounds like me" he says bravely, meeting my eyes. he moves in even closer to me, slowly. our legs are touching, and our bodies are only inches away. you feel your breath hitch as his face moves towards yours until he's centimeters away. you've never know how badly you truly wanted this until you notice the butterflies in your stomach, and how you think you might stop breathing. he puts his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"right now you are feeling nervous, and thinking about how weirdly good this feels, even though you've never wanted to admit it to yourself. your favorite food is fettuccine alfredo, even though it makes your stomach hurt every time, you always say that its worth it. your perfect date would be in the fall, finding a farm to go to where you can pick your own pumpkins. then you would want to go home and carve it together, after stopping for coffee at your favorite cafe, of course. your favorite book is little women, you've read it 4 times already and you've been thinking about starting it again. you hate scary movies so much because of that one time when you were 8 and your brother dressed up as michael myers and hid behind the basement door, jumping out at you after you went to grab more snacks." he stops, noticing a tear falling from your eye as you sniffle a bit. 

"i can keep going" he whispers close to your lips, knowing that the single tear is that of happiness, and he would gladly make more fall if it meant that your heart was fluttering as much as his is. he wants to see you smile. 

you sit there, his hand on your thigh sending heat flying up your whole body. you can't believe you've never seen it before. he's been the perfect man all along. he's been here the whole entire time, waiting for you to stop being an idiot and admit you've loved him since you first met him. you lean forward, closing the gap between your lips. god, you should have done this years ago. 

dokyeom brings his hand up to your cheek, cupping your face as his lips move in harmony with yours. he smiles into the kiss, having to pinch himself to see if this is real life. this is all he's ever wanted. he deepens the kiss as he feels you squirm, wanting to be closer to him. he places his hands on your hips effortlessly pulling you into his lap. you've sat here a million times, platonically. but this is a feeling you never knew was possible. you wrap your arms around his neck, heat rising to your cheeks as he slides his tongue into your mouth. your lips move until you need to stop to catch your breath, although you wish you could go forever. you reluctantly pull away, inhaling dramatically as you get some air. he chuckles at you, bringing his hand down to your lower back. 

"that good, huh?" he asks as he smirks at you. he could get used to this.

[notknickers]

it's here, barely in time. enjoy, or don't. i'm done. which is what matters.

synopsis: when colonel könig gets restless, he knows he can always count on his favourite recruit to put him in his place the way he needs to. warnings: unethical power imbalance, full-con otherwise, boot blacking, proud to messy submissive, slight degradation, manhandling, könig loves it when mummy steps on him, orgasm control, masturbation, praising, köning is a little worm who loves to squirm, smoking, light petting, aftercare, second-person narration in present tense, no gender mention, but reader assumed to be afab, military-related inaccuracies, probably. word count: 2643

a/n: i was stoked to write a boot blacking scene, so i hope it came out right.

if you are under 18, tentakönig doesn't want you to clik below. you don't want to make tentakönig sad, do you?

that day started exactly as expected. early wake, frugal breakfast and another simulation of a real mission. tomorrow will be the same, until, one day soon, it will not be just another realistic exercise to drag you from bed, but a real, multi-day operation with unbelievably high stakes. so you and your squad completed your tasks, competing against the others, making use of all the skills cultivated in the almost ten years of service before being hand-picked for your new position in the private sector, just to see if your current employer is satisfied with it, or thinks you could all use a few pointers and much more training to meet their very high standards. you cleared the assigned objectives to the best of your abilities, each member of the team there to shore up each other’s weaknesses and emphasise each other’s strength, then exfiltrated and had an end-of-day debrief. a very boring one, by then. with all the adrenaline spiking and dropping, all you could think of was supper, then the cot. not a recap of the day. even less so a reprimand for accidentally tracking mud inside. that one ended with the sergeant with a stick up his arse threatening all kinds of debasing chores around base to instil in you some sense of decorum. luckily, colonel könig stepped in to take the task of teaching you a lesson personally.

the sergeant really wanted to be the one to discipline you, before the colonel swept you from him! too bad.

you felt grateful, suspecting könig had far different plans in mind, even though exhausted, dirty and starved, you were not sure you could perform them as well as he had come to expect.

you found comfort in the fact that he did not appear to be in a full-on crisis like last time, even though you could sense nervousness exude from his fidgety fingers and pace.

when the two of you turned the corner of a corridor and he lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing – to avoid leaving any more mud prints and no other reason, surely – all worry dissipated like fluffy clouds battered by ruthless winds.

so, this is how you find yourself in the colonel’s private office, sitting on his incredibly comfortable – and duly reinforced – leather chair he usually keeps behind his desk, with one muddy boot rested on the kneeling man’s bulky right thigh, a boot blacking kit set on the floor beside him.

he has just finished wiping the worst of it from your soles and is now undoing the laces, pinching them between thumb and index to force the dried dirt to crumble on the towel he has intelligently spread under both of you.

you observe the meticulous care with which könig folds the lace into a hank and puts it on the corresponding side, so he will know to what boot it belonged. he does the same with the other.

perched up in his – now yours – chair, you watch the colonel dip the bigger brush in water and saddle soap a few times, before he begins to lather the leather until the whole surface froths with white foam, the circular motions soothing your aching feet even through the thick material.

but it’s not just the pleasant, physical sensation that captures you: it is always fascinating watching the colonel labour with such practised skill.

it’s not that you are a stranger to caring for each item of your uniform to the mandated standards yourself: minding your equipment is just another one of your duties. however, the fact that a man several ranks higher than you is hard at work on his knees to clean muck from your boots never ceases to tickle that well-hidden spot in the secret hallways of your mind. that spot that feels increasingly less concealed, as time goes by and colonel könig keeps, knowingly or not, to appeal to it with such naked candour and good will.

you sink into the padding a little, closing your eyes as the clean, slightly pungent, scent of soap fills your nostrils and the gentle rustle of cotton against the leather grain reaches your hearing with regular cadence. könig is vigorously wiping the foam with a rag, mercifully sending warmth up your stiff legs, weary from all the walking, scuttling and crawling.

he takes his time with it and you don’t dare say a word, lest you distract him and ruin the moment. you can envision his serious expression even under the mask he has not removed: brow knitted. intent focussed. mind clear.

you wonder if the colonel is the type who, when fully committed to a task, lets the tip of his tongue inadvertently snake and wander from the confines of his lips, leaving it to peep out for the duration. the thought makes you snigger, a small but crystalline sound that has könig halt a moment in question.

you shake your head in dismissal, mirth warming your features: «please, colonel, continue.»

the harsher sound of dry bristles from a smaller brush going through seams and metal eyelets resumes as he obeys, until this stage, too, is completed to his – and, implicitly yours – satisfaction.

as much as you crave the sight of him, so much you wish you could burn it in your retinas, you don’t have it in you to open your eyes when he firmly lifts your right leg to rest it on the bulging muscle of his quadriceps, like he just did with your left, to restore that boot, too.

you let the colonel serve, his movements and their sounds giving you a very clear idea of what is happening all the same, as you sink even more in your seat.

the clinking of a metal jar makes you grimace faintly, but the known smell of shoe grease gets you back in the moment. he works the stuff with his bare fingers, massaging it into the leather up to the ankle, which he carefully turns to slather the whole boot.

you almost wish you could get away with keeping your endowments in worse condition, as all it will take for your boots to rediscover their as-new shine will be a single coat. two at most. you can’t help but sigh, trying not to let your disappointment sift through: so attentive and attuned is the colonel, he would surely detect it and risk thinking he is the source of your displeasure.

a notion that could not be furthest from the truth.

as the left boot soaks in the wax, the colonel’s hands operate as deftly on the other. this time you indulge in watching him knead more product in with knowing touch. the time to buffer the other one with another clean clothe comes too soon, but you enjoy the care anyway. when the right one has also been thoroughly wiped, he takes both of your feet back on his thighs to laces them back up. making sure the length on each string is even.

quiet but proud, he waits for your verdict.

you peer at the renewed leather with critical eye, toying a bit with the colonel with long pauses and pensive frowns, the soft light of the desk lamp suffusing the outline of your right boot enough to let you admire its state.

«an impeccable job as always, colonel», you state as you plant your left boot on his shoulder, «however…»

you sense his tension at your objection, that sudden tautening that goes through every fibre of könig’s ample figure like lightening. his eyes lift to yours, expectant.

«however, i think they could use a spit shine… what do you say, colonel?»

könig eases right away as his neck turns towards your ankle. there’s no need to specify you expect his tongue to serve as both applicator and buffer, this time, as the colonel is already lifting his hood, using the bridge of his nose to secure its hem.

his eyes fix on yours as his tongue traces your boot from heel to toe, through the side, and a deep, intense shiver seizes you from within as he continues, lips smacking as he delivers a flurry of wet and languorous kisses on the leather itself.

his large hand firmly braces your ankle, further bending your knee. he cups the rubber sole with the other, as his tongue contours the shoe’s silhouette. he glances at you in between long sweeps of his tongue, desire glinting as bright as fireflies in the dark.

you take it all in from above. the fluid movements; the way his ruined, red lips, glowing with spit, part and suck; how his soft, pink tongue flutters over the dark surface, careful not to miss a single spot.

as diligent with his mouth as he is skilled with, you have come to believe, all he does. a quality of his you thoroughly appreciate.

you find your teeth pinching your bottom lip as the sight of him filters through the heave of your chest, getting slightly faster as it accommodates your heart picking up pace. so devoted to his task, he barely notices when your stamp your other boot on his muscled chest and push, shoving him down to the floor.

you abruptly stand as könig drags backwards on his elbows, resettling after the unexpected fall.

«tell me, colonel, do my boots taste good on your tongue?», there’s a hint of a cruel smirk pulling your lips in a tense line.

könig, eyes a little desperate in arousal, nods slowly.

you draw closer, speaking more softly: «do you miss it, colonel, their taste?»

again, he nods as he still holds himself up from the floor on his elbows as you loom closer.

«how much?», you breathe out as he watches you advance with no more room to escape.

you press the boot on his cheek, pushing his face between floor tiles and rubber, forcing könig to lie on his back.

«well?», you taunt, «show me how much you miss it, colonel.»

in that position, he has to strain his tongue to manage to feel the lovely leather back on it, where it belongs. where he aches for it. the tip of it almost reaches you several times as he groans at every attempt, saliva dripping down his mouth to his chin, where it pools thickly, before drooling down to the floor, wetting his reddened cheeks at its passage.

«go on, colonel. if anyone can manage, that is you», you taunt and encourage at once, until, indeed, his tongue brushes the boot that holds him down.

«good, pup!», you coo, dragging the rubber of your boot lower on his chest, the tread of it engraved in könig’s face.

you don’t stop your descent, slow though you decide to keep it, until it approaches könig’s waists. his hips jolt up a little of their own accord before you’ve even found balance, letting you know in unmistakeable terms what he hopes from you.

«you want me to go lower, puppy?»

he nods more emphatically, panting a little in anticipation.

«oh, colonel… do you really want me to use my shiny, black, leather boot to make you come in your drawers, like a pathetic adolescent?»

you rub the toes of your boot downwards, feeling könig’s impressive length struggle painfully against the durable material of his uniform, barely any room to accommodate his hard-on, his hips lifting up against you.

he whines pitifully when you pull away, leaving him to thrust into empty air in utter frustration.

«oh, puppy… but what would all the respectable men and women who serve under you think, if they knew that their colonel likes to make a sticky mess in his clothes?», your voice oozes mockery and sympathy in almost equal measure, as you rile him up.

just like the defeated way in which he peers back at you in supplication both pulls at your heart strings and makes you slick between your thighs at the same time.

you sigh: «alright, then. cock out, colonel.»

he’s not quick enough to react to your tastes, so you intimate again, voice much harsher and peremptory, this time: «cock out, i said!»

he quickly fumbles with belt and buttons, until his heavy member, slicked and leaky at the tip and swollen from all the constriction ill-endured inside his trousers, springs out, lending with a smack on his lower abdomen, on his enticing trail of blond curls.

your boot is quick to kiss it, further squeezing its shaft against könig’s stomach as he groans, full of longing and gratitude. he mindlessly grinds against you as you watch him, barely having to do any work yourself.

«my floor-loving, little worm… squirming so desperately…», you swear you can feel the warmth of his skin as you taunt him.

he’s incapable of uttering anything of meaning. only grunting and grinding. the sight of it makes you feel like your heart is racing from between your legs. it seems, for now, the only one between you who will be making a slicky mess in their drawers is yourself.

you bring your fingers to your mouth and quickly moisten them, before disappearing them in your trousers, a gesture the colonel’s eyes suddenly gain focus for.

under the clothes, you part your lower lips and trap your clit between your fingers, rubbing and pulling at it idly, at first. you are so wet you could have forgone licking your fingers and your breathing turns to sighing sooner than you expected, vying with the obscene squelching of your sex for könig’s senses.

the way the colonel rubs against the tread of the boot that presses down on him, you’re not the only one mere moments away from bliss.

your breath hitches and you barely avoid embarrassingly choking on your own saliva when you try to speak: «are you close, puppy?»

könig frantically nods affirmatively, motion almost matching the rhythm of his hips. a quick glance at him, at the interest with which he stares at you, at his own movements, could have told you as much. the known, mindless litany of german words is right behind his lips, ready to tumble out of them.

it will have to wait

«good puppies wait their turn, don’t they?»

könig whines in supplication, but he will not get any pity from you.

«you might be the big dog out there, but in here, colonel…»

you fail to finish your sentence that your voice breaks, head falling back in a whole-body shiver, as heat waves scorch your core. your cunt clenches tight on nothing. you swallow, panting and can’t help the snigger that emanates from your throat as your body still shakes.

pure euphoria.

könig is not far behind you, especially after that. a few more strokes from your boot and he spills on his own stomach, pumping his hips a little longer, before sagging to the floor.

exhaustion finally catches up with you. you join könig on the floor, after sweeping for papers and tobacco on his desk. he asks you to kindly roll a cigarette for the both of you, before indulging his hunger for your slicked fingers, now that you’re so close to him.

he’s such a nasty man. you oblige him in both favours, of course.

the two of you find yourselves passing cigarettes back and forth, occasionally blowing smoke in each other’s mouths, quietly lying on the floor.

you take a drag, cinders burning bright in the dim chamber, as he undoes the top of your fatigues, clearly tired of lying on your chest without feeling your skin on his, obviously finding there something more interesting to suck in his mouth than nicotine.

he gently cups and kisses, caresses and suckles tenderly on skin and breasts and collarbone, still half undressed and stained in his own juices. neither of you particularly disturbed by it, either way.

thank you for reading. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

Hi 👋

Since you said it's ok to reach out, please don't mind me dumping my thoughts on the cancellation news :

OFMD and it's fandom, even though I'm very much a lurker, is so important to me. The last few years have been really chaotic and not in a good way. My life has turned out very different from what I've imagined and I've had to give up many of the things that brought me joy.

The doses of serotonin I got from OFMD and its fandom, even by just scrolling tumblr a few mins, made all the difference to keep me going. Now I'm sad and a bit fearful that life is going to be that little bit harder, and that I've lost something to look forwards to.

I'm sad for the cast and crew and the fandom too. And depressed thinking about the future of art. I have a hard time imagining a positive future, both on a global and personal level, and I fear corporate bullshit is ruining human creativity and storytelling.

I am grateful though to cast, crew and fandom. We really got something so special with OFMD. I feel a bit guilty for not having the time and energy to contribute much, and I was hoping that if season 3 had happened, I would by then have had more to give.

Thanks for everything you do for the fandom 💕

Hi friend! Ooo I love your icon btw. Yes please! My dms and asks are always open (sometimes I'm a bit late getting back to them because of time differences and crazy work situations but I do try to get back to you within 24 hrs, especially now!)

Can I just say, I really appreciate you sharing this with me and the crew? I know it's really hard to talk about these kinds of things, especially when you're already feeling upset, and I am so honored you felt safe enough to share it.

First, and foremost, I totally get that guilty feeling, like you didn't have time to do enough. But you know what? You did plenty. You were here lurking, and participating in the background. Not all of us have enough spoons to do crazy things every day to support our show, and that is 100% okay. The fact that you kept yourself going is exactly what needed to happen, and I'm so glad you found some solace in the OFMD fandom. The most important thing is you are here with us, and you're getting something good out of this wonderful community.

The situation seems dire right now, I know. It's so hard because it feels like "Well maybe if we just did x more" it would be enough, but the hard truth of it is, it wouldn't. You are right, the corporate greed out there is ruining human creativity and storytelling. However-- I think this is a wonderful opportunity for us to keep fighting the good fight for exactly those things.

Every piece of art... or fic... or cosplay, or drink or any creation really, inspired by the show has the power to fuel creativity in others. We are creative creatures, and I know I, like you, had given up for a long time many of the things that brought me joy. This community, this fandom, this show, is fueled by creativity, and love and joy and inclusivity, and that is a beautiful thing, and that is certainly not gone. Even if we don't get an s3 now or ever-- that spark, that inspiration is still there in all of us. They can't take away the way that show made us feel.

You feelings on worrying life is going to be a bit worse are absolutely valid hon. I spent all yesterday afternoon crying my damn eyes out because I felt like I finally had something I could continue to support and fight for, and that I may have had some semblance of control over and it was taken away. Your grief and fear are so damn valid. I'm also feeling very strongly about "I have a hard time imagining a positive future, both on a global and personal level". I'm lucky to be a part of a community where when I expressed those same concerns people gave me some great ways to help cope and put my energy into. @celluloidbroomcloset passed on this nugget: "So I've got friends who are, like, Activists with a capital A, and from what they've said a good place to direct efforts when you feel helpless is at local levels. Can be politics, homeless advocacy, queer orgs, environmental, etc. or other orgs within your area, etc. Because a lot of change can happen more easily at the local level and you can engage with people more readily in those spaces and make a difference. It breaks down the bigger issues into something more manageable with real, visible outcomes." Please know friend, you're not alone in these fears, we're all feeling them right now, and I'm really happy you felt like you could reach out and talk about them. If you wanna talk more please feel free to DM me. Thank you for all your kind words to the community and the cast & crew too, I know they need it just as much as we do at the moment. You are a super human <3 Take care and get some rest, and when you feel up for it, please come back to us and keep loving the things in this fandom :) We're all still here.