#IAS couching

[tododivas]

Couch Diva

[cyberlabe]

Mozilla Assistant diagram

[lulujeno]

crush culture — lee jeno ᡣ𐭩

summary : liking jeno was a mistake. kissing him didn't make it any better.

warnings : mentions of alcohol/drinking, kissing, cusswords, angst!! (this does not portray how the idols are irl, all the things here are written to match the song crush culture by conan gray!!)

wc : 6.3k

a/n : reader uses she/her pronouns !! jerk!jeno and bestfriend!mark :D thank u for 100+ followers ~~ cant believe i managed to pull out more than 5k words out of my ass >< my finals are currently happening so that's why i've been ia for soooo long :( i promise when i'm done i'll be clearing out both my drafts and requests ^^

Seeing your best friend, Belle, flirt with Jeno on your couch hit harder than you ever expected. The way they leaned into each other, laughter spilling from their lips like a sweet melody, made your stomach churn in a way that felt foreign and unwelcome. You had no right to feel this way, not when you knew about her crush on him. You had even agreed to be her wingman tonight, setting up this moment so she could finally have her chance. But somehow, along the way, you fell for him too, your heart weaving itself into a tapestry of unspoken feelings and bitter regret.

You should feel happy for her, after all her efforts to catch his attention, but the tight knot in your chest made it impossible to be anything but miserable. “It’s fine. Be happy. It’s your birthday, after all,” you whispered under your breath, trying to convince yourself. The words felt heavy, lacking the enthusiasm they were meant to carry. You exhaled a shaky breath before heading to the kitchen, desperate to escape the sight of them together.

The kitchen was warm, filled with the faint scent of alcohol and fruity punch hanging in the air like an unwelcoming fog. Mark stood by the counter, effortlessly mixing drinks with an ease that told you he’d done this a hundred times before. He glanced up as you entered, and a flicker of concern passed over his face when he caught sight of your downcast expression. He flicked his eyes toward the living room, and you knew he had noticed. Most of your friends knew about your crush on Jeno. It wasn’t something you talked about much, but the way your eyes lingered on him said enough.

“You okay?” Mark asked, his voice low, but the concern was clear, filling the space between you like a fragile glass.

You could only shrug, unsure of how to explain the whirlpool of emotions churning within your chest. It felt too complicated to articulate.

Without a word, he whipped up a drink, something colourful and sweet, and handed it to you. The condensation from the glass cooled your palm, but it did little to soothe the fire raging inside. The drink looked vibrant, but you could already tell it was just a disguise for the hollowness you felt.

“She’s kind of a bitch for doing that in front of you,” Mark muttered, glancing back at the couch, his fingers absentmindedly wiping down the counter. His words hung in the air like a lifebuoy tossed your way, and for a moment, it felt like they were offering you a chance to vent, to express all the things you were holding back. But you shook your head, pushing the thoughts down.

“Not really,” you sighed, taking a sip of the drink. The sweetness coated your tongue, but it tasted like nothing, a mere distraction. “I’m the bitch here. Liking the same guy as my best friend, after she tells me she likes him, that kind of thing breaks girl code.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, his confusion evident. “Girl code? Really?” He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Come on, Belle falls for every guy who looks her way. Everyone knows that. Besides, you actually have a better shot, Jeno knows you, trusts you. You should go for it.”

You nearly choked on your drink, laughter bubbling up despite your mood. “Yeah, and get a reputation for stealing my friends’ crushes? No thanks, Mark. I’ll pass.” You handed him the empty glass, watching as he refilled it, his movements swift and practiced. The glint of the alcohol under the dim kitchen lights reflected how your emotions felt; messy and swirling, a whirlpool threatening to pull you under.

Mark sighed, exasperated. “It’s your party. Don’t let them get in your head. Go have some fun.” He handed you the new drink with a smile, but before you could take another sip, he added, “And don’t drink too much. You can’t handle it, and we both know it.”

But after two glasses, fun was the last thing you felt. The sight of Jeno and Belle still played in your mind, a vivid loop that made the alcohol churn uncomfortably in your stomach. You tried to find Belle in the crowded room, but she was nowhere to be seen. After asking around and realising Jeno wasn’t there either, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. You knew what that probably meant.

You found yourself wandering back to the kitchen, your mind foggy but determined to drown out the ache with another drink. Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to see you again. When you asked for yet another glass, he sighed deeply, a mixture of concern and frustration in his expression.

“This is your last one,” he warned, handing you the drink reluctantly. “You can’t handle much. I don’t want to have to carry you out of your own party.”

But Mark’s warning felt like a distant echo in your ears. By the time you were begging for a fourth drink, all caution had slipped away, and you couldn’t care less about the consequences. The music in the living room was thumping, laughter echoing like a cruel reminder of your current situation, and all you could feel was the weight of everything you couldn’t have — Jeno, your peace, the ability to not care.

“I already told you, no more drinks. You’re cut off,” Mark said, frustration clear in his voice. “I’ll get you some water instead.”

As he turned to open the fridge, you took your chance. The cold metal of a beer can brushed against your fingertips as you snatched it from the counter. You were so focused on your mission to drown out the pain that you didn’t notice Mark turning back toward you.

“y/n,” he snapped, his tone stern, “let go of the can. You’re going to regret this.”

You raised the can to your lips, but Mark was quicker. His hand reached out to grab it from you, and in the struggle, the can slipped from your grasp. The beer splashed everywhere — over your shirt, dripping down your arms, and pooling on the floor. The cold liquid seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin, making you gasp at the sudden chill. Mark groaned, grabbing a napkin from the counter as you stood there, drenched, with a look of defiance still written across your face.

Undeterred, you tried to tilt the can toward your mouth, desperate to drink whatever was left inside, despite the mess. “Come on, y/n, you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” Mark sighed, exasperation laced in his tone as he managed to pry the can away for good this time.

The alcohol-soaked shirt clung to your body, the sticky sensation uncomfortable, but you were too far gone to care. The frustration bubbling inside wasn’t going to be soothed by just a drink anymore. You were angry, angry at Belle, at Jeno, at the fact that you had let yourself feel anything at all.

Before you could make another move, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, prying you away from the counter. You froze, looking up into the familiar dark eyes you’d been avoiding all night — Jeno.

The world felt like it stopped as Jeno glanced from you to Mark, his brows furrowed in mild concern. “Help me out here, Jen. She’s had too much already, and she won’t listen to me,” Mark said, his voice weary but relieved that someone else could take over.

Jeno’s gaze softened as he looked down at your soaked shirt, a mixture of amusement and concern crossing his face. He let out a small sigh, his grip gentle but firm as he took the can from your hand and replaced it with a bottle of water. “You’re done with the drinks for tonight, okay?” he said softly, his voice holding the same care you’d heard earlier.

Before you could protest, Jeno wrapped his arm around you, guiding you out of the kitchen, away from the noise and the eyes of your curious friends. The walk to your room was a blur, but the warmth of his hand on your waist kept you grounded, even as the alcohol swirled in your system.

The sight of Belle sobbing into someone’s shoulder as you passed through the hallway barely registered in your hazy mind. You were too focused on the warmth of Jeno’s presence beside you, the way his touch lingered longer than necessary, as if he was anchoring you.

Once in your room, Jeno gently guided you to sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful as if he was afraid you might fall over. His eyes roamed over your beer-soaked clothes, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re a mess,” he teased, though his voice held no judgment. If anything, it was laced with concern, the kind of worry that felt warm and comforting instead of scolding.

You glanced down at yourself, wincing as you finally took in the state of your shirt. The beer stains were obvious now, dark patches clinging to the fabric and sticking to your skin in an uncomfortable way. You grimaced, the sticky sensation making you feel even more self-conscious. The alcohol had dulled the sharpness of your embarrassment, but not entirely. A faint blush crept up your cheeks as you mumbled, “I should change…”

You attempted to push yourself off the bed, but your limbs were heavy, sluggish from the alcohol coursing through your system. Your balance wavered, and you nearly stumbled forward before Jeno’s hand gently pressed on your shoulder, keeping you steady.

Without saying a word, he crossed the room to your closet, rummaging through the clothes until he found one of your oversized t-shirts. He walked back to you with that same quiet focus, kneeling down to your level, holding the clean shirt in his hands. His gaze met yours for a moment, and something in his expression made your heart skip a beat.

“Here,” Jeno said softly, his voice just above a whisper. “Let me help.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers reached for the hem of your beer-stained shirt. He moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to object, to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The closeness of him, the way his eyes held nothing but tenderness. It was like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this charged, intimate bubble.

Jeno’s hands were careful as he lifted the fabric, peeling it away from your sticky skin with a precision that made your pulse quicken. The cool air hit you, contrasting the warmth of his touch. Every time his fingers brushed your arms, it sent shivers through you. It wasn’t overtly intimate, but the care he took in making sure you were comfortable made the moment feel far more meaningful than it should have.

Once your shirt was off, he handed you the fresh one, his eyes deliberately focused anywhere but your body, giving you the privacy to finish. You quickly pulled the oversized shirt over your head, feeling the soft cotton fabric glide down. Your cheeks burned, not from the alcohol, but from the way Jeno’s thoughtfulness had disarmed you, leaving your heart racing in its wake.

When you were finally settled in your clean shirt, Jeno took a step back, his hands awkwardly fumbling at his sides, unsure of what to do next. “Better?” he asked, his voice quiet but sincere.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The warmth pooling in your chest wasn’t just from the remnants of alcohol, but from the way Jeno had cared for you, so gentle and attentive. The kindness in his actions made your emotions swirl even more intensely.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with something unspoken. The room felt smaller with Jeno in it, the atmosphere charged with a new kind of tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. If anything, it felt safe. Like he was there to make sure you were okay, to take care of you, in a way that made your heart feel lighter despite the whirlwind of the night.

Jeno’s eyes flicked from the bed to you, a soft concern still lacing his gaze. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

You climbed under the covers, feeling the exhaustion settling into your bones now that the noise of the party was long behind you. As you laid down, Jeno lingered by your side for a moment, his hand briefly brushing your shoulder before he moved to sit at your desk. His presence filled the room, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Jeno?” your voice came out as a soft murmur, barely loud enough to reach him, but he turned to you right away.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment before whispering, “Thanks… for everything.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, the soft light in your room making his features look even kinder than usual. “Get some sleep, y/n. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to process what was happening. Jeno was in your room. The Jeno. The one who was always surrounded by friends, admired by so many. The same Jeno your best friend had been talking about for months, and the one you, slowly but surely, had found yourself falling for.

The alcohol still buzzed in your veins, loosening your inhibitions just enough to make you bolder than usual. This was your chance, maybe Mark had been right all along. Jeno was here, with you, taking care of you in ways that felt like more than just friendly concern. Maybe, just maybe, you weren’t imagining the way he stayed close tonight, the way his eyes lingered a little longer.

It was now or never.

The air in the room felt heavy, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Jeno sat at your desk, his steady gaze unreadable as you shifted under the covers, a mix of nervousness and warmth blooming in your chest. The alcohol had numbed your inhibitions, but the electricity between you both was impossible to ignore.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to ground yourself in the fabric, though it did little to help. “It’s cold,” you mumbled, barely audible, your voice betraying the hint of vulnerability you didn’t want to show. In truth, the room was a bit chilly, but more than anything, you longed for his presence next to you. The space between you felt far too wide, like an unspoken barrier you didn’t know how to cross without risking everything.

Jeno’s eyes flickered toward you, his hesitation lingering in the silence that stretched between you. After a beat, he stood up from the desk, his movements slow and deliberate, as if carefully weighing each step. Your breath hitched as he approached, and your heart pounded in your chest, anticipation curling in your stomach.

Wordlessly, Jeno slid under the covers beside you, his warmth instantly chasing away the cold. His scent, a comforting mix of cologne and something undeniably him, wrapped around you, making your head spin. Instinctively, you leaned into him, your head finding its place against his chest. His arm moved naturally around you, pulling you closer, and you melted into the embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

With Jeno’s warmth cocooning you, the outside world felt like a distant dream. The party’s once-loud music had faded into a faint murmur, barely audible over the sound of his steady breathing. Every now and then, his breath grazed your hair, sending tiny shivers down your spine. You stayed perfectly still, afraid that even the slightest movement would break this fragile moment, this perfect stillness.

“Is it still cold?” Jeno’s voice was low, a gentle murmur that seemed to sink into your very bones.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you pressed yourself closer to him, allowing the exhaustion of the night to wash over you. “Not anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. His arm tightened around you in response, as if silently saying that he wasn’t going anywhere. That, even just for tonight, you had him.

The soft light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, its dim shadows creating a cozy, intimate space that felt removed from reality. The world beyond your bedroom door seemed to slow, leaving only the two of you in this quiet bubble, suspended in time. You found yourself wishing that you could capture this feeling forever, keep this warmth and peace bottled up in your heart.

Jeno’s hand rested on your waist, his fingers moving in slow, absentminded circles over the fabric of your shirt. His touch was so gentle, so careful, that it sent little sparks dancing across your skin. It wasn’t just the alcohol making you dizzy; it was the tenderness in every brush of his fingers, the way he held you like you were something delicate.

“You’re always running around, taking care of everyone,” he murmured softly, his words carrying a weight that tugged at your heart. “Who takes care of you, y/n?”

His question hung in the air, the raw sincerity in his voice cutting through you. A lump formed in your throat, and you blinked rapidly to keep the sudden tears at bay. You hadn’t expected him to say something like that. Who did take care of you? For as long as you could remember, you were the one who held everything together, the one who put everyone else’s needs before your own. But in this moment, with Jeno’s arms wrapped around you, it felt like someone was finally seeing past all of that—seeing you.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you admitted the truth aloud. “I guess I’m just used to it.”

Jeno shifted beside you, his body pressing closer, his breath now warm against your ear. “You deserve more than that,” he said softly, his voice low and earnest, each word landing like a promise. “You deserve someone who’ll take care of you, too.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you swallowed hard, trying to hold back the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. His words felt too good, too perfect, and a part of you was afraid to believe them. Afraid to believe that someone like Jeno could really see you like that, could want to take care of you.

Still, in this moment, wrapped in his warmth, you allowed yourself to pretend — to imagine, if only for tonight, that this could be your reality. That Jeno could be yours.

His thumb traced another slow circle on your side, his touch so gentle it was almost hypnotic. “I don’t want you to forget tonight,” he whispered, his voice even quieter now, like he was sharing a secret meant just for you.

You turned in his arms, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes locked with his. There was something in his gaze, something soft and unspoken, that made your heart race. His face was inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stop altogether.

You swallowed, the words escaping you before you could think twice. “What if I do?”

For a moment, Jeno’s expression darkened, his gaze flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. Then, in a movement so gentle it felt like a dream, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The contact sent a shiver through you, your whole body reacting to the warmth of his touch.

“Then I’ll remind you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice barely above a whisper.

The night blurred into a series of quiet moments. Soft touches, shared whispers, and a closeness that felt too tender, too fragile to belong to the real world. You could have stayed in that moment forever, tangled in Jeno’s warmth, pretending that the world outside didn’t exist.

But, as always, reality had a way of creeping back in.

Jeno’s phone buzzed on the desk beside him, the soft vibrations shattering the stillness. He sighed, his arm loosening from around you as he reached for the phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. You watched as his brows furrowed, his expression tense as he scrolled through the dozens of missed calls and messages.

“Shit,” he muttered, sitting up, his warmth slipping away from you entirely.

The cold rushed in immediately, filling the space where Jeno had been, and your heart sank. You knew what was coming next.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, already knowing the answer but dreading hearing it aloud.

Jeno ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. “The guys… They’ve been calling me nonstop. I told them I’d leave with them, they’re my only ride home.” His voice was tinged with regret, but beneath it, you could sense the guilt.

You forced a smile, trying to mask the disappointment that was tightening in your chest. “It’s fine,” you lied, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You should go.”

Jeno glanced down at his phone again, then back at you, his jaw tightening as he hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said quietly, his voice thick with the conflict swirling inside him.

You shook your head, the ache in your chest growing. “I’ll be okay,” you whispered, your words feeling hollow. “Really. Go.”

For a fleeting moment, you held onto the hope that Jeno might stay. The way he looked at you, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart race, felt like a promise unspoken. But then the phone buzzed again, shattering the delicate moment. You watched as his resolve shifted, the warmth in his gaze giving way to a distant sadness.

With a heavy sigh, he rose from the bed, the fabric of the moment tearing slightly as he slipped his phone into his pocket. The air around you felt colder, thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, as if the very room held its breath. Just before he reached the door, he hesitated, turning back to you one last time. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he stepped back toward the bed, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. It was soft and lingering, yet it carried the weight of finality.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin, leaving a warmth that contrasted the chill that enveloped you after he left.

And then, he was gone.

The weekend stretched endlessly, an expanse of silence that felt like an aching void where his presence had been. No calls. No texts. Just the stark absence of his warmth and the echo of the night you had shared. With each passing hour, the memory of Jeno’s embrace faded, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and an unsettling sense of regret.

You spent the next two days trapped in a loop of memories, replaying every moment over and over. The way he looked at you with such intensity, the way he held you close, the sincerity in his voice when he told you that you deserved better. You ached to reach out to him, to check if he still remembered the fleeting magic of that night. But every time you reached for your phone, a wave of fear stopped you cold. The thought of his response, what he might say or, worse, what he might not say, paralyzed you.

By the time Monday rolled around, you had convinced yourself that maybe it was better this way. Pretending nothing had happened would be the safest path. After all, he would slip back into his life with friends, back to the way things were before, and you would have to bear the weight of your choices alone.

As you stepped through the school doors, you immediately felt the weight of stares bearing down on you. Whispers trailed you down the hall like a shadow, and you quickly pieced together the rumors that had spread like wildfire. Word had gotten out about you and Jeno, and Belle had undoubtedly heard every detail.

It wasn’t long before she found you. Standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, her glare twisted your stomach into knots.

“I can’t believe you, Y/N,” Belle hissed, her voice sharp and full of venom. “You promised me you’d be there for me. You said you’d help me with Jeno, and instead, you—” She cut herself off, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

You swallowed hard, guilt and shame coiling tightly in your chest. “Belle, I—”

“No,” she interrupted, her eyes flashing with hurt. “Don’t. Don’t act like you didn’t know. Everyone’s talking about how you left the party together. You think I didn’t see the way he looks at you?”

Your heart plummeted, a heavy weight in your stomach. You longed to explain, to articulate that it hadn’t been what it looked like, that you hadn’t intended for any of it to happen. But deep down, you knew the truth: you had crossed a line, and no amount of explanation would erase the breach of trust.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“It’s not fair. I was so close to having him, Y/N. I was right there, and then you had to ruin it for me.” Belle’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her expression hardened like ice. “You’re a liar. You promised to help,” she spat coldly, turning away from you. “You’re no better than the rest of them. Maybe you should’ve tried harder not to ruin everything.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you with the sharp sting of her betrayal echoing in the silence behind her.

You stood there, frozen, as the world around you faded into a blurry haze of whispers and judgmental stares. The hallway stretched out longer than usual, each step feeling like an uphill battle against the suffocating air thick with unspoken words. You could almost see the rumours swirling like storm clouds, brewing around you as classmates shot knowing glances. Some gleeful, others disdainful, while they whispered behind your back, oblivious to the truth.

You made it through the day by shrinking into yourself, avoiding everyone as if they were fragments of glass waiting to cut you. Each laugh from a group nearby felt like a mockery, reminding you of how the moments you shared with Jeno now felt like scattered shards, impossible to clean up without inflicting wounds on your heart. Every time you caught a glimpse of him in the halls, your chest tightened as his eyes flicked toward you for just a fleeting second before looking away, as if that one shared night had evaporated into thin air. Maybe it had for him.

The days following that night passed under a strange, silent agreement between you and Jeno. Neither of you acknowledged what had happened. No messages. No lingering glances. No awkward conversations. It was as if you had both silently decided that pretending it hadn’t meant anything was the easiest way to cope. But you couldn't shake the feeling that, to him, it truly hadn’t.

At school, Jeno slipped seamlessly back into the rhythm of his life, surrounded by his friends, laughter pouring from their mouths as if nothing had changed. He blended effortlessly into the crowd of popular kids, exuding an air of confidence that was painfully absent in you. Later, you overheard snippets of their conversations, casual, dismissive remarks. “She’s not worth it, man. You could do way better,” Haechan chuckled, as if your very existence was a punchline. Jeno merely shrugged, his indifference cutting deeper than any blade. “It was nothing.”

The words pierced through your carefully constructed defences, more painful than you could have anticipated. They shouldn’t have stung; after all, you had spent the entire weekend convincing yourself that you didn’t care, that it was just a fleeting moment. But those three words echoed in your mind, a relentless mantra: It was nothing.

Still, you played your part. Whenever you passed him in the halls or found yourself near his group during lunch, you donned a mask of indifference so convincingly that you almost started to believe it yourself. You laughed with your other friends, pretended to focus in class, and convinced yourself that forgetting was the best option. You were adept at pretending, had to be, but that night continued to linger, haunting you like a bittersweet melody you couldn't silence.

The only person who seemed to peel back your façade was Mark. You never spoke about that night directly, but he could read between the lines. He noticed the way your gaze avoided Jeno, how your laughter felt forced, and how your smile no longer reached your eyes.

One afternoon, when the weight of everything felt too heavy to bear, you found yourself gravitating toward Mark. He sat on the grass at the edge of the soccer field, scribbling furiously in his notebook. You dropped down beside him, the warmth of the sun contrasting with the cold ache in your chest. He looked up, brow raised, but he didn’t say anything right away, giving you space to breathe.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you finally admitted, staring into the distance as the horizon blurred with your emotions.

Mark closed his notebook, shifting his full attention to you. “Want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling inside you. “Not really. Just… everything’s a mess.”

He didn’t press you, but his unwavering gaze bore into you, his concern palpable. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I can tell you’re not okay.”

The tightness in your chest intensified at his words, and you forced a laugh that felt hollow. “It’s not a big deal. I barely even remember that night, anyway.”

Mark didn’t buy it. He never did. “You don’t have to lie to me. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with all the unsaid things that hung heavy in the air. You stared at the ground, fighting the emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Jeno didn’t say anything, did he?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could hold it back.

Mark sighed, leaning back on his hands. “He’s pretending it never happened, too. His friends… Well, they’re being assholes, like always. Told him he could do better. You know how they are.”

You nodded, the weight of disappointment sinking deeper into your bones. Of course they would say that. Of course Jeno would follow their lead. It was easier to dismiss the connection you had shared, to act like you hadn’t been wrapped up in each other, sharing warmth and vulnerability in a way that felt almost sacred.

Sensing your shift in mood, Mark nudged your shoulder lightly, offering a small smile. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to understand what’s going on in Jeno’s head. But you deserve better than this, better than being some secret he feels like he has to hide.”

His words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, yet they only amplified the ache in your heart. You wished it didn’t hurt so much, wished you could just move on like Jeno seemed to. But the truth was, that night had meant something to you. Even if you shouldn’t have felt that way, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise, it did.

It wasn’t just the gossip or the whispers that hurt; it was the entire situation. The reality that you had gotten swept up in something so fleeting, yet so consuming. You felt like you were living on a stage, where every move was scrutinised, turned into something larger than life. Belle, Jeno, his friends; they were all part of that act, and now, so were you. You thought back to the party, to the fragile intimacy you had shared with Jeno, the way you had intertwined your lives for a moment. But the harsh reality was that it hadn’t been real. Not for him.

When you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, its familiar texture suddenly feeling foreign and oppressive. The quiet of your room suffocated you, amplifying the echoes of whispers and judgment that had followed you all day. It should have been a relief to escape the chaos, but instead, it was a stark reminder of how alone you felt. Gone were the masks and the laughter; all that remained was the haunting silence, thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

Your phone buzzed, and for a fleeting moment, hope flickered inside you. Maybe it was Jeno, maybe he finally had something to say, something that could bridge the chasm that had formed between you two. But as you glanced down, the screen illuminated a message from Mark instead.

Mark: How you holding up?

You stared at the words, the glow of the screen casting a pale light over your uncertainty. Mark had always been the one to see beyond your carefully constructed façade, the only person who didn’t press for answers you weren’t ready to give. His concern was palpable even through the digital barrier, but the weight of your own feelings made it hard to respond.

You: I don’t know.

The reply felt painfully inadequate, a thin veil over the storm churning inside you. You tossed your phone aside, pulling your knees up to your chest, as if trying to protect your heart from the world outside. What did you even want at this point? Jeno wasn’t coming back to fix things, and Belle was probably rehearsing her next round of accusations. You felt caught in a strange, uncomfortable limbo, yearning to forget while being unable to erase the vivid memories of that night.

In the days that followed, you had tried to convince yourself the night with Jeno was nothing more than a fleeting mistake, a moment spurred by alcohol and the warmth of the moment. But now, as the realization washed over you, it became painfully clear: you had wanted it to mean something more. You craved the way he looked at you that night—not with the haze of drunken affection, but with something deeper, something that could fill the void you felt inside.

But he didn’t. He never would.

You remained motionless on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, feeling the silence stretch around you like a shroud. Your phone buzzed again, probably Mark checking in, but you couldn’t muster the energy to respond. The weight of your decisions pressed heavily on your chest, reminding you of the loss that had settled in your heart.

You had lost your best friend, sacrificed your bond with Belle for something ephemeral, and now, you were left to pick up the pieces alone. And maybe that was what hurt the most. The realization that in the end, none of it had felt real. Not the intimate moments shared with Jeno, not the friendship you had thought you could count on with Belle. Everything felt built on a shaky foundation, fragile and destined to crumble.

As you lay there, you reached for your phone, hoping to drown out the noise in your head with music. You scrolled through your playlist, searching for anything that could take you away from this moment. And then it started, the familiar notes of Crush Culture by Conan Gray filled the room, wrapping around you like a bittersweet embrace.

With each lyric, you felt a rush of recognition that hit you like a truck. Crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out. The words resonated deeply, echoing the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. It was as if Conan had taken the scattered pieces of your heart and crafted them into a song, pulling at the very strings of your soul.

The lines about fleeting moments, unreciprocated feelings, and the pain of wanting something that was never truly yours surged through you. You closed your eyes, allowing the music to wash over you, each note igniting memories of that night with Jeno. The way he held you, the laughter you shared, the promises whispered in the dark. But with each line, the weight of reality crashed down harder, reminding you of the distance that had grown between you since then.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the catharsis almost overwhelming as the song played on. You could feel every word burrowing into your heart, every melody capturing the longing you tried to hide. This wasn’t just about Jeno; it was about everything you had lost, everything you had poured into moments that turned out to be nothing but illusions.

And in that moment, you felt a fragile clarity. You might be lost now, but you wouldn’t stay that way forever. The lyrics continued to echo around you, each syllable a promise that you would find a way through the pain, that you could reclaim your voice, your heart, and maybe, just maybe, discover what it meant to feel whole again.

As the song faded into silence, you lay back against your pillows, allowing the tears to flow freely. It was time to face the truth, to embrace the chaos of your emotions, and to start piecing together a new beginning. And with that thought, you closed your eyes, a flicker of hope igniting within you. A hope that lingered long after the last notes faded away.

[aerinaga]

can you please write a fic about paige based on this post please please please 🤗

angel in heat.

paige bueckers x reader

warnings: smut (thigh riding, makeout sesh)

note: i wrote this during art class. i miss you guys, i’m sorry for being ia. been busy 🫶🏻

you were out with your girls for the day. paige had dropped you off at your friends house, telling you to text her if you needed to be picked up.

you had went out with your friends, bar hopping around the city. you and your friends danced on the dance floor, jammed to the songs played by the dj, drank til you dropped. it was nearly 1am, texting paige to pick you up.

while waiting for her, you saw a wlw couple near you. they were making out by the sides of the bar, no one minding them since the place was busy. you watched them and felt like you needed what they were doing. you felt like you were being teased.

forgetting your thoughts, you saw your girlfriends car stop in front of the club you were at. you immediately rushed to the car, getting in your “passenger princess” labeled seat.

“hey wifeyyy” you slur out in your drunken state.

she chuckles at you, finding how cute you are when you’re tipsy.

“hi baby, you ready to go home?”

you nod at her, not feeling the need to speak.

as the both of you were driving home, you felt her hand creep up on your thigh. your stomach churned at the feeling, the butterflies and sex thoughts were coming up to your system. your breath hitched from what she was doing, resisting yourself from moaning.

regardless, paige felt you stiffen up at what she did. and she knew it turned you on.

you entered your shared apartment with paige, immediately sitting yourself down on the sofa from exhaustion. paige approached you with a glass of water and medicine, to avoid you from getting a hangover the next morning.

while you were drinking water, paige asked you “oh that turned you on, didn’t it?”

you nearly choked on your water, putting the glass down on your table.

“which one?” you asked.

“when i had my hand up your thigh, baby.”

you slowly nodded at her. you looked like a mess, but to paige? you looked like a princess begging for something with doe eyes.

she sat down on the same couch as you, signaling you to sit on her lap.

“come here baby. take your underwear off before sitting on my lap, hm?”

you sat on her lap in your flowy dress, with no underwear on. you were aroused, almost dripping in fact, at the sight of her.

you wasted no time wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into a heated kiss. your drunken state made you even hornier, and the fact that your girlfriend had such a hot outfit on made it even worse.

her hands gripped at your waist, then to your hips, then putting her hands under your dress to squeeze the flesh on your ass. and boy, it felt so damn good.

you started to slowly grind on her thigh, the feeling of it being slippery from how wet you felt. paige slowly kissed down on your neck, sucking on it lightly. your hands clawed at her pink dyed hair, gripping it like it was a stress reliever.

you fastened your pace, paige was holding you down her thigh to make it even faster. she flexed her thigh for you to feel more friction, as she wanted you to feel pleasure.

at this point, you were a moaning mess. the basketball players hair was messy, your lipgloss was smudged around, your dress was hiked up to your waist. it was blissful.

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum.” you repeatedly tell her.

“cum for me baby, i wanna feel you.”

[purinfelix]

back home ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ - joao felix

pairing: joão félix x reader (established relationship) summary: after a solo trip away, you're a little worried about how your boyfriend might react to your return warnings: none, angst if you squint hard enough maybe? w/c: 770

a/n: HELLO IM ALIVEE im sorry for being so ia akjdnsa no excuse i'm just lazy ... but in the mean time i did go on a trip with some friends (which is what inspired me to write this lol) and went to my first in person football match !!! anw hope yall take this as my apology for being so inactive <3333

“It’s only two weeks.” 

That’s what you told your boyfriend months before you had begun planning your solo trip, knowing he was the type to fret over you and whether you were organised enough. You continued repeating this phrase to him leading up to your departure - you had mumbled it into his hair, whispered it into his ear, and even shouted it across rooms when he raised his protests. Whenever he would think a little too hard about how long it would feel for two people who never seemed to spend more than a couple of hours apart. Even so, you appreciated his worrying over you, taking it as a sign of him caring for you. 

But now, two weeks later, as you fidgeted nervously in the backseat of the taxi he had called for you to take home from the airport you found yourself repeating the phrase again, only now to yourself. It felt as though the moment you two had separated, all of Joao’s worrying had found a new home within you, and you had already begun counting down until your reunion. This was only made worse by the fact that it seemed your boyfriend was growing more and more comfortable in his solitude - and ultimately, your absence. It worried you to see this, as much as you could through the frame of your phone screen during each of your nightly facetimes. 

Even now as you stood fumbling with the keys to your shared apartment, you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying. What if he had come to enjoy his ‘alone time’, and took it as a sign to distance himself? What if this distancing led to him spending time away from you, or even worse - a breakup? As your mind wandered to the worst-case scenario, you pushed open the door with trembling hands. 

A tuft of brown hair peeking out from above the couch cushions let you know your boyfriend was home. Your many bags slipped off your arms and fell to a heap on the floor with a soft thump, the sound alerting Joao. 

You braced yourself, ready for a scowling expression or even one that was completely vacant. Ready for him to scoff, stand up and walk out of the room, disinterested at your return. Or for him to begin telling you about how he had already begun moving out, and how maybe this time apart had done you both some good. 

“Oh, thank god.” 

His voice was soft, fragile almost, as it broke the silence between you two, followed shortly by the padding of his feet as he rushed over to you. His body crashed into yours, sheer force sending you a couple of steps backwards and any worries that plagued your mind far, far away. If it wasn’t for how tightly he was holding you, hands digging into your shoulders, you were sure you would’ve fallen over. 

You struggled to muster up more worrying thoughts, overwhelmed by the warmth of his body pressed up against yours, the feeling of his embrace. You let out a deep sigh, not of fatigue or frustration but pure relief, feeling yourself melt into his touch. 

“I missed you,” he muttered, face pressed into your hair as if he was afraid letting you go might cause another two weeks apart. 

“I missed you too,” you heard yourself admit, words muffled against his chest. But he still understood you, which he made clear by squeezing you even tighter. 

It felt like forever before you broke apart, but still not enough as Joao continued to press gentle kisses to your temple, lingering with each one as if trying to show you just how much he had missed you. Finally, he brushed past you to shut the door and pick your several bags off the floor - bags which had required much effort for you to haul around but he managed to pick up with much ease. 

“Welcome home,” you can hear the smile in his voice, even though he’s faced away from you as he begins to walk to your shared bedroom. You watch him disappear around a corner, and he begins telling you about how his plans to surprise you at the airport with a bunch of flowers were ruined by training running overtime. You’re still in the doorway, a little dizzy - from jetlag, from a lack of sleep and proper food, from how hard he squeezed you in that hug. Even so, you feel a smile tug at your own lips because even though it was ‘only’ two weeks, you couldn’t be more glad to be back home. 

[mammonswhore]

MC and their tiny dog!

summary: MC gets their little dog from the human world to the House of Lamentation and everyone has mixed reactions about it!

This idea came to me while avoiding uni work so enjoy.

Everyone was so happy you were coming back from the Human Realm, you were gone for almost a month and all the demons were waiting for you coming back. Much to their surprise, you brought back your most loved companion: your dog.

Lucifer:

You call this a dog? Really?

He is speechless and for bad because he never agreed to you having a puppy at home.

When he gets a chance he will pull you away and ask you what do you mean by this. You have various choices but the most efficient one is to remind him that he said you were equals and that meant being able to take decisions on what gets inside the house.

That serves to butter him up and make him daydream of running the House together as more than equals. He will grunt and mumble how he is stilo thw head of the house but the dog can stay as long as you take care of it's needs.

He isn´t friendly with the puppy unless the puppy is friendly first. Maybe the pup sneaks inside his office and sleeps at his feet while he works or even the puppy waits for him at the main entrance and wiggles when he gets home. He isn't going to be specially sweet to him but he will pet the dog and buy him little toys every once in a while.

Now,Lucifer knows how important the dog is for you so he will keep his mean thoughts to himself but to him a creature thar size is not worthy calling a dog.

Won't even think of taking the dog on a walk but he will offer himself to go buy him food or any supplies he needs.

"I don't appreciate your dog, I am doing it because I appreciate you and the effort you make."

He's lying,he appreciates the dog because the dog's love for him it's a sign of trust and respect and if you ever treat the dog like your little child he will 100% puff his chest and say the dog loves him to be with you.

He doesn't want the dog on his bed nor yours but he can sleep on the couchs if you keep their hair brushed and neat.

When he gets accustomed to the pup he will tell you that whenever you need help making them take a bath just call him. Honestly he just wants to have that kind of domestic moments with you.

Overall an 7/10 because he will never not look down on the pup because of their size.

Mammon:

Now see,he likes cats more BUT he is such a good kind soul that all animals like him, including your dog.

It doesn't come as a surprise when your dog follows him around the house and wiggles at him to play.

And just like you, the dog wins over Mammon's heart in no time. They go on walks together and Mammon went as far as to call himself their step-dad.

The dog sleeps with him and has his own bed on his room as well as another set of plates to eat and drink from because the House is enormous for a dog who's as tiny as they are.

Teaches your dog tricks to surprise you. Suddenly Mammon claps and the dog plays dead and you get a heart attack because Mammon forgot to warn you. His bad, he's sorry please don't hate him.

The size of the dog amuses him so much, he gets so giddy when the dog sneaks into small places, hops on top of him or anything that includes taking advantage of his size.

Buys him a new collar and a new tag that has yours and his number in case the little one goes missing.

His smile ia bigger than ever when the dog waits for him at the main entrance, Mammon drops to his knees to pick his kid and snuggle him a little before both of them go to your room to also snuggle you.

Total dog dad 11/10

Leviathan:

Not so friendly with the dog not only because he's jealous but also because the dog looks at him too much for his liking. He's okay with looking at the pup as long as they don't stare at him with 'empty eyes' as he called them.

Wouldn't let them inside his room, he thinks dogs are not naturally clean creatures nor they are careful. He will die if the dog chews at anything he finds valuable or worst, if the dog eats anything that they found on his room and dies.

If the dog is calm and usually chill, Levi will lay down on your bed and the dog will get some petting and cuddles but it has to be in your room.

He strikes me as an allergic person and if he happens to be allergic to the dog Levi will probably get on a medical treatment because a. It's going to be a hassle and b. He loves you and you spend a lot of time with the little one.

He's not very good at showing emotions but he will show his appreciation for the dog in tiny gifts and talking to them about his day. It's a common sight to find them in your bed talking (Well, only Levi does the talking but still) and playing with a toy that keeps the dog jumping around.

5/10 because he will kick the dog out when he gets tired of them.

Satan:

Totally not. "That thing can´t have a place in my home! I can´t have a cat but MC gets to have a damn dog?" He is furious.

He won´t lash out to you nor the dog, Lucifer will pay for the broken plates. Both of them yell at each other through dinner until Lucifer dismisses them and the only sound that can be heard for at least an hour or so is Satan telling Lucifer he is "an ungrateful fucker who has preference" and Lucifer would dismiss him and ignore his points. This will blow into a heated argument, they will most likely throw hands but hey Satan´s got a cat now.

After Lucifer agreed that Satan could have a cat (he was tired to argue), Satan seemed more than happy and Mr. Whiskers seemed to be chill around your dog so there were no biggie.

Each animal stays on it´s own room until they get used to the other, then they will slowly start to come around and be friendly.

Now, if they are friendly from the beginning then Satan will look at your dog more fondly but if they don´t Satan will most likely dislike your dog and say your puppy lacks manners and that you should put more effort into raising him.

"Oh but look at it! It doesn´t have the calm and charm of a cat I find it´s fluffiness annoying and pompous, I can´t think of why you would share something as sacred as your bed with that."

He really is annoying about your dog so you need to set boundaries clear and tell him to shut the fuck up.

1/10 This one doesn´t need a clearer explanation.

Asmodeus:

Total cutie! Asmo loves your dog!

He is another dog dad, he loves how your puppy is so affectionate and playful with him. He loves taking pictures of your pup and posting them, there´s thousands of videos of them playing tag, with sticks, even there´s a few pics of Asmo showering your little one.

He is the perfect person to go to the vet with, he talks to the dog all the way through and helps the little one relax when they are about to see the vet.

He keeps a stash of stuff for your puppy like clothes, dog food, treats and more. Asmodeus is so enamored with your pup, he thinks your puppy is so small and cheerful and he thinks they resemble you.

"MC your dog is just like you it´s true, the dogs resembles their owners!"

Asmodeus is the sweetest alive when it comes to cute animals, he doesn't like the fur the tiny one leaves around but he bought a brush for his clothes.

He loves how you two are really close, Asmo enjoys seeing the pup follow you around and be your companion. He is a little worried sometimes because everyone and everything in the house is big and the dog is really smal.

He really likes putting the dog on his bed and playing with it, rubbing it's belly and speaking to them the same way one speaks to babies.

100% the first one to throw a fit if somebody says the dog is ugly, don't call his baby ugly!

Super dog dad, 10/10 he exceeded on his duties.

Beelzebub

He likes it,he doesn't love it bu he loves the look on your face when the dog is around, how you enjoy it's company so if it makes you happy then everything is fine.

He is usually fond of dogs and he is fond of your dog but it's really tiny and it makes him uncomfortable.

Before you,Beel wasn't used to hang around things or people significantly smaller than him and even you are smaller than him due to his demonic traits but still. He doesn't want to hurt the puppy,he knows it will kill your heart if something happened to the dog that you see as your kid. He us used to you and the little trinkets you give him as well as the little things in your every day life that he came to notice but the dog moves,it has life and a mind and it kind of scares him.

He reads a lot about tiny dogs so he can know how to help you, he wants to be involved but with his hands and strength away from the puppy as to not hurt them.

"Is his heart okay? I closed the door too loud and I read that it could scare them so much their hearts stopped."

Eventually Beel will come around and hang around with the dog,petting them and playing with so much gentleness.

If the dog likes the soft game is cool but if the dog likes playing rough he is more than okay. Soon enough Beel is bitten in places like his toes, fingers, hands, arms and whenever the dog can reach. Truly it's tiny teeth do no harm to Beel other than tickle him.

He likes brushing the dog, washing its clothes and teeth, sharing small pieces of his food with them. Watching them interact it's extremely adorable.

I'll put him on a 9/10 because he barked back at the dog once.

Belphegor

Nope. 100% dislikes the dog, it's always following you and growling at him and it makes his skin itch.

More than once he made jokes about pushing the dog when it's going downstairs to watch him fall, he earned a punch in the stomach (deserved).

Satan once said that the pup dislikes Belphie so much because they are similar to MC and they probably sensed his vibes. Belphie is hurt and bothered but he tries to be less of a little shit to the dog ever since.

It takes some time, a few growls from both sides and some biting but they get there. Belphie once shared a piece of meat with the pup and they have been less wary of him ever since, the pup once barked to Lucifer and Belphie softened a little at the sight.

Belphie doesn't like to be bothered while sleeping but he does like the extra watm the dog provides when they lay at his feet. Progressively the dog likes him more and more to the point of sleeping by his side at the height of his shoulder even going as far as to lay on top of him.

Dislikes the licking, like he finds it disgusting most of the time specially when the dog licked his face he made the worst gagging noise.

He likes to feed the dog because it reminds him of Beel, the dog is excited when he eats food and so is Beel.

Again overall 7/10 because he's not good nor bad he just exists alongside the dog.

[crows-sleepy]

Summary: A tear rolled down his cheek, falling and landing to the floor under him, he didn't cry loudly like most children his age do, it was silent, better that way.

But it wasn't best that way, he shouldn't be crying at all, he was not a child, he was an heir, he could not, even for a second risk falling that far.

Or, Damian's past ia always there no matter how badly anyone wishes it wasn't

Or or, Damian angst in which league standards make sure no one can ever know he's not alright, but they do

Title: Robin's are meant to fly, how did you lose your wings?

Chapter one, also on ao3 under the same name, will be updated regularly

★

Tap, tap, tap

Click, click, click

Tick, tick, tick

In the living room of the manor, Tim's foot tapped repeatedly against the floor as his leg quickly bounced with anxiety, the only other noises being the ticking of the ever turning clock, and the clicking of Jason unloading and reloading his guns, looking like he was about a second away from punching whatever was closest to him.

So on the couch sat Tim, a long empty cup of coffee in hand, next to him sat Dick, so eerily silent, he had never been this quiet, the oldest's pale blue gaze bore into the smooth wood of the floor, his hands clasped so tightly together his knuckles were white, as he sat deep in thought, and Jason in a plush arm chair across from the two, a couple guns on hand.

'2:00 pm'

The clock had read, two, only an hour and a half until Damian came home from school.

Jason let out an aggressive huff of irritation, slamming his gun down on the table.

"What the hell is up with the demon brat?"

Jason's loud, angry tone rang out to his brother's.

Tim sighed heavily, exhaustion and even concern seeping from his body language, he placed his empty cup down on the coffee table in front of him.

"If we knew that, this wouldn't be happening would it?"

Tim had snipped back.

"Both of you stop it, this isn't getting us anywhere.."

Dick spoke through a sigh, unclasping his hands to run one through his hair.

"Well I don't suppose you have any better ideas, Dickie bird?"

Jason had asked, his tone sarcastic as ever, irritation clear in his voice, something was wrong with Damian, something was really wrong, and they wanted, no needed, to find out what it was.

Dick had paused to think, that seemed to be the only thing he knew to do about this, he needed to think this over, think Dick, think, you want to ask him but he just shuts off, you can't scare the kid...

But then he spoke.

"We can't talk to him about it, we all know he isn't going to say anything if we just come right out and ask, we need to think this through."

Think this through? Is that all you know how to do? What a crappy older brother, can't even figure out what's wrong with Damian.

"Dick's right, plain out asking him isn't working, we need to be more careful about this, or he'll start trying harder to pretend like nothing's wrong."

Tim had agreed, his tone thoughtful.

"Let's go over everything, what have you two noticed about Damian recently?"

Dick offered, they needed to get everything together, if they went without knowing everything Damian would surely tear them down just as fast as they had gotten up.

Jason scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"That he's a damn brat."

"Jason."

Dick gritted the name out scoldingly.

"We have to take this seriously."

Dick spoke with exasperation and worry sinking through his voice, and Jason must have heard it to, given how quickly he caved.

"Kid's been getting hurt more on patrol, it's not like him, letting himself get all scraped up over nothing."

Jason spoke as he gave in, Tim nodded as Jason spoke, before his own voice rang into the air.

"I noticed that too, but that's not where it started, Damian seems distracted, upset even, something's wrong."

Dick didn't necessarily feel any better at his little brother's words, guilt and concern flooded his gut swarming and swallowing him alive. How hadn't he noticed this sooner? Why hadn't he been there to stop it before whatever Damian is upset about happened? Why did he have to be such a bad brother...

But he couldn't focus on those feelings right now, he needed to focus on Damian, he needed to focus on helping him before anything, and compiling this information just might help.

"Has he said anything that could show what he was upset about?"

Dick had wondered worriedly to his younger brothers. Tim shakes his head, looking disappointed, Jason grumbles to himself under his breath.

"As if that stubborn brat would say anything.."

Dick stayed silent after that, no one had any idea what happened? Why was Damian so set to hide it?

Click

The sound of the front door opening was the only thing that pulled them all out of their thoughts, Damian stepping into the hallway of the manor, he wasn't visible yet, but his small footsteps could be heard against the wooden floor of the manor.

"Hey, Dami-"

Dick had called out gently to the boy, who hadn't even seemed to hear him, walking through the hallway past the doorway of the living room, his lips fallen in a small frown as his gaze watched the floor and lower parts of the walls, anywhere but up as he climbed the stairs.

Dick rather quickly fell silent, his words leaving him in that moment, Jason looked even more pissed if that was possible, and Tim looked utterly confused and frustrated, but Dick, just felt something well up in him, concern, worry.

What was happening? It wasn't unusual for Damian to ignore him, or anyone for that matter, but this was weird...

                                ★

Damian walked up the staircase like he had hundreds of times before, but this time felt wrong, so wrong.

Why was it wrong? This is how it was supposed to be, mother wanted you here, Damian, you want you here.

But the thoughts wouldn't leave his mind, of course he wanted to be here, he loved it here-

Loved?

When had that happened? He wasn't supposed to love anything.

He wasn't supposed to be like this, so why was he? Why did he have to be so soft recently? Mother would surely be so disappointed, grandfather would truly kill him...what about father? What would father think?

THUD

Damian's foot slipped from the step as he tumbled down, grabbing onto the railing, pulling his arm painfully as he held himself up with only the railing to help, Damian heard the shuffling in the living room, how could he not?

The way Grayson, or maybe, maybe, even Todd or Drake shot up to come over, but he couldn't face them at the moment, he couldn't let them know how foolish he was being.

Falling down the steps just because he was distracted, he knew better than that, he should know better than that.

He quickly pushed himself to his feet, rushing up to his room, it's not like he was hurt anyway, so it didn't matter.

Why would it matter?

He's fought through worse, he should be able to just walk through this, it was a fall, a stumble, nothing of importance, in the league it wouldn't have mattered, in fact he may have even been punished for it, for being imperfect, why were things so different here?

He didn't know what to do..it was all so different, he had been here long enough to be used to it, and he was, he was used to it but he couldn't be anymore, this was wrong, he was wrong, so, so wrong.

He was a failure, he was weak, he was something he shouldn't be, he was human, and oh, how scary that was...

Sat in front of the door, his bag dropping near him, his knees pulled up to his chest, he buried his face in his knees, his arms wrapped around himself.

Why was he doing this? It was pitiful, disgusting...if mother saw-

Mother wouldn't see, she didn't know, she couldn't know, he couldn't be punished if she never knew he was breaking a rule, it would be like all the other rules he's broken without her supervision.

No one could know about the weakness he was showing right now, it was pathetic, horrid, he was a terrible son, a terrible family member.

He was soiling the name of their family by being so weak, he wasn't supposed to be like this.

This isn't why he was born, he could never be a child, he had to be an heir.

A tear rolled down his cheek, falling and landing to the floor under him, he didn't cry loudly like most children his age do, it was silent, better that way.

But it wasn't best that way, he shouldn't be crying at all, he was not a child, he was an heir, he could not, even for a second risk falling that far.

Word count: 1422

[seokstrivia]

Written In Pages

Summary: Sometimes, it’s for the best, 

Work!AU | KHH M.List | Word count: 2.4K

Boss Christian Yu x Writer Reader - angst, old feelings, exes, new love vs old love, drama(?)

After slamming your laptop shut for the umpteenth time, you groaned in irritation and took the last sip of your wine.

Your dream job was to write articles for a magazine, specifically inspiring stories about everyday life situations. You disliked writing about new cafes and hotspots to visit in Seoul, South Korea on a hot summer day. Your boss, Christian Yu, was someone you despised.

You let out a sigh as you leaned back on your couch, feeling exhausted from working for long hours and staring at a bright screen. Despite the fatigue, you were able to enjoy the peacefulness of your apartment which was quietly enveloped by the sound of light rain tapping against the tall windows that offered a view of the brightly lit city at night. The cityscape was a sight to behold, with buildings and cars stretching out as far as the eye could see, and you found it captivating.

It felt surreal.

You struggled with the idea of writing this article for a while, but now, as it is almost 3 am, you just want to finish it and move on, without having to worry about it anymore.

You worked tirelessly on your article all night, only the clicking of your keyboard keeping you company. As the sky began to lighten just before 5 am, you finally completed your 12th and hopefully final draft. After sending it to your boss, you collapsed into your bed, exhausted.

—>

“Wow, you look like shit.”

“Shut up, Dabin,” you scowled while you pointed a pen at him, almost as if threatening to hurt him if he said another word. “I was up late working on an article.”

“Again?”

As you nodded your head, a yawn escaped your lips, but Dabin didn't seem too impressed. He was aware of your writing skills, and he knew that Ian, his best friend, also recognized your talent. Despite this, Ian never allowed you to demonstrate your best writing abilities.

It annoyed him.

“Do you want me to speak to...“

“No,” you cut him off knowing exactly what he was going to ask. It was his favourite question. “It’s fine.”

Dabin suspiciously leaned over you, face a lot closer than you were comfortable with, and stared into your eyes as if they had a different answer to the one you’d given him.

It made you laugh.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” you genuinely smiled as you pushed his face away from yours.

The two of you discussed where to go for lunch and what you were in the mood for, which varied daily.

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?”

The sudden voice behind you caused you to drop the smile on your face. You quickly locked eyes with Dabin before shifting to see your boss standing behind you.

Ian didn't give you time to respond to his question since he was already on his way back to his office. His strides were long and swift as you hurriedly followed behind.

A sigh escaped your lips as you thought about all the terrible things he might say about the draft you sent just a few hours ago.

Christian's office exuded a sense of sophistication and elegance with its predominantly black theme. The black furniture and décor complemented the black walls, creating a sleek and modern atmosphere. The aesthetic aligned perfectly with Christian's personal style, which is characterized by his sharp black suits, crisp white shirts, and multiple decorated tattoos. Overall, the office was a reflection of Christian's impeccable taste and attention to detail.

There’s no denying that he was a handsome man. 

“Do you enjoy working here?”

His voice was firm and almost intimidating, but it was nothing that you weren't accustomed to.

“Ye—“

“Answer me honestly,” he interrupted.

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips as he once again failed to listen.

It was annoying. 

You gazed out of the window, avoiding eye contact as the rain poured heavily over the city. It was ironic that you had just written an article on what to do on a hot summer day.

“Y/N—“

"Ian," you sighed, interrupting him as he had interrupted you earlier. "I don't hate working here, and I want you to know that. I genuinely enjoy the people and the work that I do. But it feels like you never give me a fair chance to show you how good I am, or how much I love being here."

As you stood up, your eyes met Christian's dark and mysterious ones. You never really understood him, as he always kept his distance. Even when you were dating, he never let you get too close.

His eyes reminded you of the heartbreak you felt when he told you he needed to focus on work and being a boss. There was no sadness or remorse in his expression. He was emotionless.

You subconsciously took a step back as he took one towards you, both caught off guard. You were afraid of falling for him again, especially after the pain he had caused you.

“I think maybe I should find another company to write for.”

“No.”

“Ian—“

“Y/N,” his voice was stern. Cold. “I said no.”

A deep chuckle reverberated in his office. You stepped back and crossed your arms, "It's not up to you. I can do what I want."

He knew you were right, but he didn't want you to leave. He had already given you up once.

Here's a clearer version of the text:

"Will you stay if I let you write your own story?" he asked, trying to offer a bribe.

"Why?" you questioned him, catching him off guard. He had hoped that you would just say yes and leave it at that.

There was an uncomfortable silence as he stood his ground, looking at you intently, but he didn't offer an explanation.

He was being stubborn.

After a while, you looked away from him and said, "I'll stay. See you around, Mr. Yu."

Christian watched as you left his office. He let you walk away.

Again.

—>

It was another late night in the office. Ian had finally given you the green light to write your own story - something exciting, new, and inspiring. However, you were struggling to come up with an idea. You didn't have any unique experiences to discuss, except for your own heartache and the pain you had gone through, along with the emotions you had felt.

It had been more than a year since Ian had broken up with you. Now, you were in a much better place emotionally, and seeing him around the office didn't hurt as much as it did when the wound was still fresh.

Your experience of getting over a breakup could serve as a source of inspiration for many individuals out there who may be going through the same thing. You could write about how you coped with the situation and be honest in your narrative. The idea is to make your readers relate to you and feel that they are not alone in the world and that going through a breakup is a common experience that everyone faces at least once in their lifetime.

As you were lost in thought, a voice interrupted you, asking "How are you getting on?"

You glanced up to see Dabin holding a box of fried chicken and a pack of four beers. You couldn't help but smile as your stomach growled in hunger. You were grateful for your best friend's arrival.

"Thank god for you," you exclaimed, feeling much better now. "I'm starving."

The two of you were quick to get settled into the couches in the staff room; away from computers and cubicles and depressing grey walls.

"This is delicious," you moaned as you took another bite.

Dabin laughed in return, "I'm glad I can help during times like this."

Dabin was a really good friend.

"So, how's your writing coming along?" He asked.

"Fine."

Nodding his head, he asked, "what's it about?"

You took a sip of your drink before turning to face Dabin. It was obvious what he was doing.

"You can let Ian know the article's content will be revealed in my final draft, okay?"

"How did you know I was asking for him?"

You lay back on the couch, sighing as your eyes stared at the plain white ceiling. Dabin followed suit, resting his shoulder neatly against yours.

It was quiet.

There was nobody else in the building except for the two of you. Normally, nobody stayed back late. However, you enjoyed staying late because of the peaceful and quiet atmosphere. The lights would turn off automatically on a timer, leaving you with a breath-taking view of Seoul from above.

Being on the top floor definitely had its perks.

"He didn't want to end things with you, but he had no choice. He misses you," Dabin finally spoke.

You avoided eye contact and stated, "Everyone has a choice."

You were in a three-year relationship with Ian before he broke up with you. As time went on, your love for him grew stronger and you were convinced that he was the one.

But no.

On a frigid winter night, he arrived at your doorstep and broke up with you. Declaring that his work was his priority and that he wanted to become a boss his father could be proud of.

So, he married his job instead.

It was a horrible experience that left you feeling utterly shattered. A heavy weight seemed to sit on your chest, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake off the feeling. You cried yourself to sleep that night, and dealing with the aftermath was so difficult that you had to take a month off work. Seeing him again was too much to bear after feeling so broken.

"I thought he was the one, Dabin," you expressed. "But after he broke up with me, I realized that I didn't really know him. He never let me get close to him, and he never opened up to me. I was blindly in love."

Dabin looked at you with sad eyes; it was the first time you had openly talked about your breakup.

->

Saturdays were your favourite day of the week. You could sleep in as long as your stomach allowed before getting too hungry. You didn't have anything on your to-do list. It was a day just for you to relax, unwind, and not think about anything or anyone for that matter.

However, on this particular Saturday, instead of being awakened by hunger, you were awakened by the doorbell.

You were confused as to who was turning up at your apartment this early on a Saturday. You quickly got out of bed, grabbed your slippers and dressing gown and headed to the door.

You didn't think to look through the peephole before opening the door.

"Hey."

His voice was deep.

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out before thinking.

Ian.

He ran his hand through his hair.

Then sighed. Deeply.

"Can we talk?"

You stared at him, completely gobsmacked. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ian, please go home," you declared, your voice quavering. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

He didn't allow you to close the door as he barged in and let it slam shut behind him.

"Please," he begged.

You witnessed an unusual display of emotion in his gaze, something completely foreign to you in all the time you'd known him.

This was new, and you were in shock. It was so unlike him to do this.

"There's nothing to talk about," you declared, finally breaking the silence.

Ian sighed again, except this time, he sounded annoyed, "just give me five minutes of your time. Please."

Upon not wanting to argue, you silently nodded and sat on your couch, wondering what he wanted to discuss.

"Dabin spoke to me," he began. "He told me about how I made you feel."

"Okay? And?"

"Do you hate me?"

You scoffed. Was he serious? This is what he wanted to ask you?

"No, Ian. I don't hate you," you said honestly. "But I don't like you either."

He rolled his eyes, and you smiled smugly.

"Ian, please get to the point," you stated, your annoyance palpable. He was ruining your favourite day of the week.

"If I proposed, would you have married me?" Ian asked as he sat next to you on the couch.

The shock in your eyes didn't go unnoticed.

You let out a nervous chuckle and moved away from him. He was sitting too close to you, which made you feel uneasy. It had been a year since the two of you had been this close to each other, and you didn't like it.

"Ian, we're not a good match-"

"But would you have said yes?"

As you felt your heart beating harder against your chest, you began to feel nauseous and the sensation of wanting to throw up arose.

Why was he asking you this all of a sudden?

"Y/N, would you have said-"

"Shut up!" you snapped, taking a few steps back as you stood up. "You always have to have your own way, win arguments- even need to get the last word in. God forbid anyone says anything to you."

You were pacing the room, but he was listening for once.

He was actually listening.

"We were together for three years, I loved you unconditionally and fell more in love with you every day. It wasn't until you broke up with me that I realised I'd been dating a fucking rock."

"Y/N, I'm so sorry" he apologised as he stood up.

"Save it," you sighed.

His eyes searched yours, seeking answers, searching for any sign of love.

"I would have said yes. Of course, I would've" you told him honestly. His lips curved into a smile, but faltered when you added, "but not now."

He didn't say anything except, 'sorry' before leaving, making sure to slam the door shut behind him. Except this time, he was the one who was walking away and you were the one who let him.

That night you decided to quit your job, there was no way that it was healthy for either of you to go on like this.

He didn't question it this time or stop you, he didn't even look at you. Your words had hurt him just like he'd hurt you. This wasn't what you wanted, but realistically what else could you do?

It just wasn't written in pages for you two to be together.

And maybe, that was okay.

->

A/N Pls go easy on me with this, its my first time writing since being on my long ass hiatus, but I hope you still enjoyed <3 xoxo

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 57

You

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep when you woke up to the empty couch beneath you—the warmth of Daryl missing so clearly, like it was the thing that woke you in the first place. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you peer over at the boarded-up window near the top of the room. There are just enough cracks to see that it’s still dark outside. You couldn’t have been asleep long. Sitting up, you swing your legs off the couch, about to stand when a soft knock sounds against the door.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice calls softly, and you recognize it immediately as Rick’s.

“Yeah, I’m comin’,” you say, your voice still a bit groggy as you get up, throwing your clothes on and heading for the door. Unlocking the knob, you pull it open, stepping back only to see his face set in a grim expression that makes your heart plummet.

“What’s goin’ on?” you ask Rick, already searching his face, hoping for anything but the worry tightening his features.

“Bob’s been missin’ for a while now,” he says, his voice tense, but there’s something else there too, something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. He glances over your shoulder, brows knitting together before his eyes settle back on you, his voice rough with hesitation. “Where’s Daryl?”

The breath catches in your throat, cold dread pooling in your stomach as you turn around, scanning the empty room like somehow you’d missed his presence before looking back at Rick. “What do you mean where’s Daryl? I thought he was out here with you.”

Rick’s jaw ticks, and he looks back over his shoulder into the main room of the church, where low murmurs have started to rise, voices full of unease. When he turns back to you, something hard and apologetic ia in his gaze. “We don’t know where Bob went,” he says, his voice thickening as he adds, “And if he’s not in here…Daryl and Carol are missing too,”

What was a chill in your stomach has turned to ice, shooting through your spine, your heart seizing painfully as every thought crashes against you at once. You cling to the last bit of hope, grasping for anything to keep you grounded. “He could be out in the woods—”

But Rick shakes his head, cutting you off. “I was just out there with Sasha and Tyreese. Nothin’.”

The weight of it sinks in, pressing down on your chest, making it harder to breathe. You struggle to keep the panic at bay, but it claws its way up, insistent and wild, pushing you into motion. You step past him, out into the main area of the church, grabbing your rifle from one of the pews, hands shaking as you clutch it like a lifeline.

“I’m goin’ out there,” you declare, voice trembling but full of determination. The desperation bleeds into your tone, each word edged with a sharpness that you can’t contain.

“Like hell you are,” Rick snaps, stepping into your path, his voice rough as he tries to hold your gaze. The room has fallen silent now, every eye turned toward you both, but you barely register it. The need to find Daryl, to make sure he’s safe, is all you can think about, all that matters.

“You want me to just stand here and wait?” you bite out, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. The helplessness is like a fire inside you, burning through any semblance of calm you’re trying to hold onto. 

Rick’s eyes soften just a fraction, but his face stays set, his jaw tight. “I’m askin’ you to come up with a plan instead of goin’ guns blazin’ into the damn woods at night,” he says, his voice still rough, but you can hear the worry in it, feel the weight of it pressing on both of you. He doesn’t want another person disappearing into the dark, not when he’s already holding onto frayed edges.

You can feel the desperation clawing at you, your chest tight and your heart hammering as the silence stretches between you. Rick’s voice softens, just barely. “I know you’re scared. We all are. But runnin’ out there blind ain’t gonna help them or us,” he murmurs, his words slower, careful. “We gotta be smart about this, Y/N. You know I’m right,”

The truth of it stings, but you can’t deny it. He��s right; going out there alone, without a plan, could be a death sentence. But the thought of just standing here, waiting, is almost worse. Your throat tightens, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, and you look down, your hands gripping the rifle so hard your knuckles turn white.

Rick steps closer, his voice lowering, trying to reach through the wall of fear and urgency pressing down on you. “We’ll find ‘em. Maybe they went out to check the car you found with Carol, maybe they’ll come walkin’ back through that door any second. You know they can handle themselves,” he says, his words like an anchor, pulling you back, giving you something solid to hold onto.

“He said he felt we were bein’ watched, Rick,” you whisper, your voice barely holding steady as you recall Daryl’s words, that faint tension in his tone. You blink, keeping the panicked moisture at bay. You feel stripped bare, all the fear you’d tried to hold in spilling over, and all you can think of is him out there, maybe needing you, maybe alone. Nobody knew if the three of them were together, if they were separated or caught by something–someone. You look around at your people, desperate for someone to volunteer to go out there with you, but then your eyes lock on the only stranger in the room.

“What about him?” you demand suddenly, pointing at the priest. “What if he’s got something to do with this? He just shows up, brings us here, and now our people are missin’? Daryl said we’re bein’ watched.” you repeat again, teeth clenching.

Gabriel’s eyes widen, hands going up as he glances around at the roomful of faces turned toward him. “I don’t…I don’t have anything to do with this,” he stammers, looking desperately from one person to the next.

Sasha steps forward, an angry, determined set to her jaw, a knife flashing in her hand as she points it at him. Her face is drawn, her eyes dark and wild.

“Don’t!” Maggie’s voice rings out somewhere behind you, and Tyreese moves forward, tense as he pleads with Sasha to put the knife down. But you don’t move to stop her. You were seconds away from doing the same thing.

“Who is out there?” Sasha demands, her voice sharp, pushing him back against the altar without even touching him, her mere presence forcing him to stumble backward with his hands still held high.

“I don’t have anything to do with this!” Gabriel repeats, quicker this time, his voice tinged with a desperate edge as he glances toward you, pleading.

“Where are our people?” you snap, your voice hard and low as you glare at him, taking a step forward.

“I don’t have—”

“WHERE ARE OUR PEOPLE?” Sasha roars, her voice ripping through her and echoing in the church. Gabriel jumps, his eyes going even wider as she gets in his face, her anger radiating off her in waves.

“Please,” Gabriel stammers, his voice quieter, almost a whisper. “I don’t have anything to do with this, I swear.” Sasha backs away slightly, her body still tense, eyes locked on him with fury.

Rick’s hand grips your arm, tugging you gently to the side as he steps forward, his gaze fixed on Gabriel. “Why’d you bring us here?” he asks quietly, his voice low and deadly calm. The flickering candlelight throws shadows across his face, darkening his expression to something almost menacing.

Gabriel stutters, eyes darting around as he tries to find the words. “Please, I—I—”

Rick steps even closer, his gaze never wavering. “You workin’ with someone?” he growls, his voice barely more than a murmur, but the threat in it is unmistakable.

“I’m alone! I’m alone! I’m always alone!” Gabriel insists, his voice climbing in pitch as he backs further into the altar, hands still raised defensively.

Rick’s face hardens, his eyes narrowing. “What about the woman at the food bank, Gabriel? What did you do to her?” Rick’s tone sharpens, each word deliberate. “‘You’ll burn for this.’ What does that mean? What are you gonna burn for, Gabriel?”

Everyone is silent, watching with bated breath as Gabriel’s face goes pale, and he stumbles over his words, unable to respond. You look around seeking answers for what he means, but everyone just stares on. There was more to this you hadn’t even realized had happened, too wrapped up in your own world with Daryl to be caught up.

Without warning, Rick lunges, grabbing Gabriel by the lapels, jerking him forward as he forces him to meet his gaze. “What did you do?” Rick snarls, his voice barely controlled. “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

He shoves Gabriel back, releasing him, and the priest stumbles, gasping for air. He collects himself, closing his eyes for a moment before he whispers, almost to himself, “I lock the doors at night…I always lock the doors at night.” His voice trails off, desperate and broken, and he looks around at each of you, his eyes pleading. “I always…I always lock the doors,” he chokes out, his face crumbling.

“They started coming, my congregation. Atlanta was bombed the night before…they were looking for a safe place, somewhere they felt safe,” Gabriel says, his words rushed, breathy, as though reliving it. “It was so early, the doors were still locked.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine, vivid memories flashing through your mind—the early days of panic, the fights through crowded roads, the distant echo of bombs. You can almost see it as Gabriel speaks, as though it happened only yesterday.

“It was my choice,” Gabriel continues, voice trembling. “There were so many of them, prying at the shutters, banging on the doors, screaming my name. And then…the dead came for them.”

A chill settles deep in your bones, disgust and anger mixing as you stare at this so-called man of God, someone who turned his back on his own people, leaving them to die.

“Women…children,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “Entire families calling my name as they were torn apart. Begging me for mercy…” His hands clasped together as if in prayer, though his words are choked with guilt. “Damning me to hell.” He stares at the floor, his eyes glazed with the weight of his own sins. “I buried their bones. I buried it all.”

Finally, he collapses to his knees at the altar rail, eyes red and filled with tears as he looks up at Rick. “The Lord sent you here to punish me,” he whispers, his voice hollow. “I’m damned. I was damned before.” He shakes, sobbing, his words a whisper, barely audible. “I always lock the doors…I always lock the doors…”

Gabriel’s voice fades into a low, hollow murmur, his broken figure slumped before you. The room has gone utterly silent, heavy with the horror of his confession. His words hang like a curse in the air, a reminder that even the supposed sanctuary of faith can twist into something dark and cruel. The sound of his weeping grates against the stillness, each choked sob sending a fresh wave of disgust and rage through you. You feel your hands clenching at your sides, your chest heaving with the urge to make him answer for what he’s done—to those families, to his own people, and now to yours. You didn’t know if someone was out there, watching, but if he had invited something terrible into all your lives, he would pay. 

As Gabriel crumbles lower, mumbling his guilt in pitiful whispers, there’s a sharp whistle from the back of the room, snapping everyone’s attention. Glenn is peering out the dark window, his face pale and tight with urgency. “There’s something,” he calls, his voice tight, “there’s someone outside, lying in the grass!”

Sasha bolts toward the door before Rick can stop her, her panic like a flame catching fire. You’re right on her heels, racing down the church steps, Sasha’s voice ringing out over the snarls of walkers as she screams, “Bob!”

You skid to a halt beside her, the horror in her voice anchoring you to the spot, and your stomach turns sharply as you look down. There’s Bob, sprawled out in the grass, his face pale with agony, one leg severed clean at the knee. You nearly stagger back as queasiness washes over you, but Sasha’s anguished sobs pull you into action. The growls are growing louder, the walkers advancing with a relentless hunger, their hands clawing forward.

“Get Bob inside! We’ll take care of them!” you shout, feeling the edge of desperation creeping into your voice as you plunge your knife down into an advancing walker’s skull. Glenn moves in beside you, mirroring your motions with grim determination. You can hear Sasha’s sobs behind you, each one tightening the knot in your chest.

But suddenly, gunshots ring out from the dark woods, piercing the night with shocking clarity.

“Get inside!” Rick’s voice roars over the chaos, each shot echoing like thunder as he fires toward the trees. “Go!” he shouts, and without a second thought, you turn, all of you bolting back up the steps. Rick gives the woods one last, wary look before following close behind, his face drawn tight with anger and dread.

Inside, the warm glow of the candles flicker against the walls as you gather around Bob, who stirs slowly, gasping, his face slick with sweat and pain. The room is alive with tension, each labored breath he takes making it harder to look away.

“I was in the graveyard,” Bob chokes out, his voice raspy and breathless. “Somebody knocked me out, and I woke up outside…outside this place. Looked like a…a school.” His words are halting, each one strained with the effort. “It was that guy, Gareth. And five others. They were eating my leg…right in front of me, like it was nothing. All proud, like they had it all figured out.”

The earlier queasiness grips you again, but you swallow it down, stepping closer. Your hands are trembling, dread twisting in your gut as you meet his eyes, the question clawing its way up your throat as you crouch down. “Did they have Daryl?” you whisper, each word barely audible over the pounding in your chest. “Carol?”

Bob’s eyes flick to you, sympathy and sorrow etched into his features. “Gareth said they drove off,” he says quietly.

The words hit you like a punch, the ground beneath you seeming to fall away. You feel the blood drain from your face, a hollow ache settling where hope had been. Daryl…left with Carol. Just left, without a word, no note, taking off in a car while you were here, none the wiser. He’d just…left you here.

Bob groans in pain, his breathing labored, and Sasha is by his side, her hand brushing the streaks of blood from his face, her voice cracking. “He’s in pain,” she says softly, desperation seeping into her tone. “Do we have anything?”

Rosita steps forward, her voice low, offering what she can. “I think there are pill packets in the first aid kit.” She turns, ready to grab them, but Bob’s voice halts her.

“Save ‘em,” he mutters, voice sharp and full of resolve.

“No,” Sasha protests, her hand finding his cheek, her touch gentle, clinging to him even as he begins to falter.

“Really,” he insists, a painful groan tearing from his chest. Slowly, he pushes himself up on one arm, his face drawn with agony as he tugs up his shirt to reveal a nasty, festering bite, bright red and swollen. The wound stands out starkly against his dark skin, raw and angry.

“It happened at the food bank,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pain as he looks at his mate.

A fresh wave of grief and horror crashes over you, seeing him suffering, Sasha holding his face, whispering, “It’s okay,” even as his breathing grows more labored, his face contorting with every pulse of pain.

His eyes flutter shut, his body finally giving in as he faints, slumping back into Sasha’s arms. Her face is streaked with tears, her hands trembling as she cradles him. Gabriel’s voice breaks the silence, soft and awkward, “There’s a sofa in my office. It’s not much…but it’s something.”

Sasha nods, her eyes brimming with gratitude as she looks up at him. “Thank you,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

“I got him,” Tyreese says, stepping forward. You move to help, taking Bob’s legs as Tyreese grips his arms, and together, you lift him, his weight settling heavily in your hands as you carry him to Gabriel’s office.

But as you walk, your thoughts turn chaotic, each one like a fresh blow against your already raw heart. You picture Daryl, out there with Carol, the two of them just…leaving. Leaving without a word, without warning, while you slept unaware. Had he even thought of telling you? Of what you’d think, waking up to an empty room, to nothing but questions and fear? The sharp sting of betrayal mixes with your worry, confusion turning to anger. After everything, how could he leave you here?

You walk out of the office, Bob settled on the cushions, his face drawn with pain even in unconsciousness. But you barely have time to process it before Abraham’s voice booms across the church.

“Time for a reality check,” he says, his tone cold, unyielding. “We all need to leave for DC. Right now.”

Your eyes narrow as anger surges through you, an ember that’s been building with every blow you’ve taken tonight. Daryl leaving, Carol gone, Bob barely hanging on—and now Abraham’s talking about abandoning what’s left of you here? You glance at Rick, seeing his jaw set, his expression hardening.

“Daryl and Carol are going to be back,” Rick says, striding forward, each word clipped and serious. “We’re not goin’ anywhere without them.”

Abraham stares back at him, unblinking, his tone almost robotic. “I respect that,” he says, his voice void of emotion, like he’s spitting a military order. “But there’s a clear threat here to Eugene.” Abraham gestures to Eugene, sitting silently on a nearby pew. “I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y’all won’t come, good luck to ya. We’ll go our separate ways.”

Your anger tightens, searing through you like a wildfire, but Rick holds up a hand, steady. “You leavin’ on foot?” Rick asks, eyeing the door as Abraham strides toward it, gun in hand.

“We fixed that damn bus ourselves,” Abraham replies, voice confident, firm.

“There’s a lot more of us.” Rick seethes.

“Wanna keep it that way?” Abraham retorts, “Come with us.”

It’s too much. The frustration, the helplessness, all the anger you’ve been trying to keep in check, finally boils over. You step forward, glaring at him. “Carol saved your life,” you snarl, your voice cold and bitter.

Abraham’s face remains stony, unfazed, but his voice rises as he meets your gaze, unflinching. “Well, I’m tryin’ to save yours.”

“We’re not goin’ anywhere without our people,” Rick interjects, his voice low but steely, taking another step forward until he’s chest-to-chest with Abraham.

Abraham scoffs, his tone sharp, dismissive. “Your people took off.”

“They’re comin’ back!” Rick snarls back at him, fists clenched. You can see the anger simmering under his skin too, mirroring yours.

“To what?” Abraham roars, his voice echoing through the church. “Picked-over bones?”

Without thinking, you lunge forward, arm pulled back as you aim to strike, but Rick catches you, arms looping your middle, nearly throwing you behind him as he steps forward, squaring up to Abraham. In the blur of movement, Rick’s hand flies to Abraham’s gun, trying to wrestle it from his grip, the two men pushing against each other with a fierce intensity. Glenn shoots forward, shoving himself between them before it turns uglier.

“Abraham,” Rosita’s sharp voice cuts through the tension, her warning clear from the corner of the room.

“Hey, hey! Stop! Now!” Glenn shouts, throwing his hands out to stop both of them. “Do you really think you’re gonna be any safer leaving right now? In the middle of the night?” he asks Abraham, voice steady but imploring.

Abraham’s posture shifts slightly, his breath heavy as he meets Glenn’s eyes. “Yeah,” he replies, though his voice is lower, the anger tempered with reluctant resolve.

Glenn holds his ground, his face a mask of determination. “What about tomorrow?” he presses. “We need each other for this. To get to DC. We can get through all of it together!”

A silence settles, the weight of his words hanging in the air, until Tara steps forward, her voice hesitant but steady. “I have an idea,” she says, glancing at Abraham. “If you stay and help for one more day, I’ll…I’ll go with you to DC no matter what.”

Glenn and Maggie exchange a look, sadness flickering in their eyes. The connection they’ve built with her these past few days is undeniable, and her offer feels like a sacrifice.

Abraham’s eyes narrow as he takes in her words, and he nods curtly, barely glancing at Glenn and Maggie. “Glenn and Maggie too,” he says.

“No,” you and Rick say sharply, voices rising in unison, a protective edge in each of your tones.

Abraham shrugs, his voice cold, dismissive. “Good luck, then. I’m not interested in breaking up what you have here.” His tone is harsh, indifferent, and it only fuels the anger burning through you. “Rosita, grab your gear.” He starts toward the door, not sparing a glance back, but Rosita stands there, hesitant, her gaze pleading.

“Now,” he snaps, his tone brooking no argument.

You watch as Rosita’s face falls, and something clenches painfully in your chest, anger flaring hot as she reluctantly picks up her things. Abraham calls to Eugene next, but Eugene sits frozen, his gaze darting from person to person. “Move it,” Abraham barks, louder this time, his eyes flashing with impatience.

Eugene stares down at his feet, hesitating, his voice barely more than a murmur. “Okay.”

Your grip tightens on your rifle, your own frustration simmering dangerously close to the surface. “You’re not takin’ the bus,” you growl, stepping forward, fury and disbelief lacing your tone. The reality of it hits you hard—they’re going to leave you all stranded, leave you here without a vehicle, without any way to find Daryl and Carol, as if they’re the only ones who matter. You’d helped them fix that damn bus, and now, all you feel is betrayal. “Try to stop me,” Abraham challenges, pausing in the doorway, daring you.

You glance at Rick, a flicker of understanding passing between you, and together, you step forward, the tension mounting as you move to confront him head-on.

“Y/N!” Maggie calls, reaching out, trying to pull you back, but her voice fades as you surge forward, your blood pounding with a mixture of fury and fear.

Rick gets there first, and Glenn rushes in again, shoving himself between them, his palms pressing against both men’s chests, his voice firm, pleading.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait!” he says, looking from Rick to Abraham and then back to you, lifting a hand, urging you to hold off. “You stay,” Glenn says, his gaze boring into Abraham’s. “You stay and help us. And we will go with you.”

“No,” Rick whispers fiercely, his voice hard.

Glenn doesn’t waver, his eyes locking with Rick’s. “It’s not your call,” he says quietly, before turning back to Abraham. “You stay and help us.”

Abraham considers for a moment, his jaw working as he takes in Glenn’s words. “Half a day,” he mutters, his tone finally softening. “Come high noon, we’re taillights. Not waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And we’ll leave with you,” Maggie agrees, glancing at you with an apologetic look, one you can barely stand to meet.

“Half a day,” Abraham repeats, his voice quiet but resolute. He picks up his gun and turns, heading back into the church without another word.

You watch him go, frustration boiling in your chest, every instinct telling you to fight back, to scream, to lash out. The whole world feels like it’s unraveling, leaving you stranded in the wreckage. Daryl’s gone, Carol’s gone, and now half of the people you thought you could count on are ready to leave too. You swallow back the rage, forcing yourself to breathe, but every breath feels like fire, a reminder of just how alone you might be by tomorrow.

You stare out into the dark, your thoughts circling painfully, every detail pressing deeper. Just hours ago, he’d been here with you, holding you, whispering "my wife" like it was a vow that couldn’t be broken. You’d let yourself believe in that, in the warmth of his arms, the steady beat of his heart against yours as if it was the safest place you could ever be. For him to leave now, so soon after you’d made promises in a way words couldn’t hold—it digs the knife in deeper, twisting until it hurts to breathe.

The memory of it all is still so close, almost warm against your skin, and yet it feels painfully distant, like it never really happened. You trusted him with a part of yourself you never thought you’d trust anyone with, and he’d been gone like it was nothing. It’s a hollow ache, one that only grows sharper with each minute that passes, the weight of it settling heavy in your chest.

You move to the front pews, joining everyone as Rick goes over the plan to take out Gareth and his group. The air is thick with tension, everyone leaning in, their expressions grim and resolute. Rick’s eyes are dark, sharper than you’ve ever seen, and he paces slowly, his voice low and intense.

“They don’t think we’re thinking straight,” he says, his gaze sweeping over each of you. “They think we’re gonna act rash, come at them head-on. But they don’t know us, and they sure as hell don’t know what we’re capable of.” His voice tightens, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “We’re gonna take them by surprise, hit them where they don’t see it coming. Every step has to work—no mistakes.”

Your jaw clenches, the determination flaring in your chest. These people had taken Bob, left him mutilated, and now Daryl and Carol were out there somewhere, maybe suffering the same fate. You won’t let them take anything more from you. As Rick lays out each detail, you find yourself gripping your weapon tighter, every step of the plan searing itself into your mind.

Around you, you can feel the intensity radiating from everyone else. This isn’t just a rescue—it’s retribution. They’d taken enough from you all, and tonight, you’re taking it back.

One by one, you gather your weapons, the weight of each one a steady reminder of what lies ahead. Silently, you follow Rick out the door, stepping into the cold night, the dark wrapping around you like a shroud. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing as you fall in line, each step measured and purposeful, the only sound the faint crunch of leaves beneath your feet. The trees loom around you, their branches twisting in the moonlight, casting long, skeletal shadows. The night air is thick, tense, as if it knows what’s coming. You settle into place, every sense sharpened, eyes scanning the darkness. Your heart beats steadily, each beat a countdown, the calm before the storm. The Terminus people think they’ve won, that they’re the hunters. But tonight, in this silent darkness, they’re about to find out what it’s like to be hunted.

You head straight for the woods, following Rick into the shadows. But to go to the elementary school, no. 

To wait.

[ejzah]

A/N: Inspired by a rewatch of 14x15, “The Other Shoe”.

***

Deeks: So, your friend Steven—

Rosa: For the last time, he is not my boyfriend. Perhaps in the future he will be, but he is not right now and might not be in the future. Although I do think he is very cute and sweet.

Deeks, lips pursed: Well, thank you for that unasked for, but nonetheless intriguing information. What I was actually wanted to know was, is Steven’s last name Whiting?

Rosa, sheepishly: Oh, sorry. No, it’s not. Why do you want to know?

Deeks: No reason. Have fun on your not-date. *then adds under his breath* Not at all like your Kensi and I went out on not-dates for two years before we got together.

Rosa, calling over her shoulder from the door: I can hear you!

Deeks, calling back: I know! *he sits on the couch next to Kensi*

Kensi, chin on her fist, smiling at him: You having fun?

Deeks: A little.

Kensi: I see the whole Steven possibly being Whiting’s son stuck with you.

Deeks, shrugging: We may have parted on relatively good terms and without the threat of blackmail, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy adding her to the family circus. We’ve already got my mom.

Kensi: And so many Russians.

Deeks, nodding: Yep. A cranky IA Investigator would just tip it over the edge.

[samcrosfaith]

SUMMER NIGHTS 𝟎𝟑| 𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖐𝖘

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

a/n; I just realized that ia haven't posted chapter three, four and five but six 🤦🏻‍♀️ I'm sorry about that! Here you go. 🤎

tag list; @mamawiggers1980 @elmiramager

CALLIE'S GIGGLES FILLED the living room with warmth, her red hair, which sat in a neat bun on top of her head, looked almost golden under the sunlight that shone through the large window and cast a warm glow on the large carpet.

"Look mommy, he's making noises!" Full of enthusiasm, the three-year-old pulled on a short string that was attached to the dinosaur she was playing with. Shortly afterwards, a mix of a roar and a cooing sound was heard.

"Wow, that's scary!" June put on a frightened look and pretended to be afraid, her hand pressed tightly against her chest. "What kind of things is Daddy buying you?"

"Cool stuff!" When Callie burst into laughter and pulled the string again, June joined in and pulled the three-year-old between her legs with a gentle laugh. "Will you do me a favor and put on your ballet clothes? We have to leave in thirty minutes."

"I can do that", Callie answered enthusiastically as she kept playing with the dinosaurs and a doll. "Is Ally coming too?"

"Ally always comes with us, you know that, baby." June placed a kiss on the top of Callie's head before she sat the girl back down on the carpet and stood up. "And after the dance classes we go to the stores, you girls need new shoes. Does that sound good?"

"Yes!" The dinosaur and the doll immediately flew into the toy box that stood next to the round coffee table while Callie already jumped to her feet. There was pure joy in her eyes as she looked up at her mother. "I love shoes!"

"I know, sweetheart", June replied with a soft chuckle as Callie announced that she was going to change extra quickly and rushed into her room shortly afterwards.

With her hands on her hips, June shook her head in amusement. As soon as her children were around her or she saw one of the two girls happy, she was happy tooᅳ despite the complicated circumstances.

When her phone lit up on the coffee table, June reached for it and sighed to herself when she read the message from her lawyer, whom she had contacted a few days ago about the divorceᅳ just as Happy had wanted.

Lost in her own thoughts, her blue eyes wandered around the room, a room that had changed significantly after June took over the house. Not that there was anything wrong with Jax and Tara's style, but June was someone who wanted to feel at home, someone who needed warmth.

Most of the furniture was in a warm tone. A brown leather couch stood against the white wall, a beige blanket lay folded over one armrest, and orange and yellowish pillows with different prints provided another splash of color.

There were shelves on the walls with old books and plants on them. Different types of Monsteras, Succulents, Peperomiasᅳ anything that looked green and alive actually. On the wall above the dresser on which the tv stood was a large, oval mirror with a delicate gold frame, pictures of various sizes hung around it, giving the wall a nostalgic flair.

Already dressed in a black, long sleeved bodysuit and a black chiffon Ballet skirt with beige silk tights underneath, June snaked her arms around her petite body, probably to comfort herself as she looked at all the pictures with a wistful smile. One right next to the mirror, the largest picture of all, showed Happy with six year old Alanna on his lap while he held a newborn Callie in his other arm, the proudest look on his face.

In the picture next to it, they were all in it, looking like a real familyᅳ which they were. Everyone in the photo was laughing, even Happy. And seeing Happy laugh was one of June's favorite things. There was something about the Tacoma Killer's laugh that could heal all her worries.

The rumor that Happy was a cold-hearted, brutal person who didn't care about anyone was absolutely false. Sure, he was different, maybe even had a sadistic side to him when it came to getting people to talk. And yes, he didn't trust many people and seemed cold and dangerous to strangers. But not when he was around people he cared about.

As soon as Happy felt comfortable, he could even be quite funny and at home, around June and his children, he was like a different person. And that was what June missed the most. The carefree afternoons and evenings they had spent together, whether as a couple or with their children.

Tara had never understood why she had hung the pictures in the first place, after all, the two were no longer a couple and in the doctor's eyes June should've left town to escape the toxic lifestyle. But June didn't want to leave, she didn't want to take her children's father awayᅳ and Charming was her home, whether she was a fan of it or not.

Sighing, she shook off the thought of driving to Happy's and their old house and begging him to just start over. But she couldn't forget the pictures of that one night, even if for others it had been 'only' a kissᅳ for Gemma, for example.

Without answering the message of her lawyer, June put her phone aside and followed the dull rock music that, as so often, came from Alanna's room. Before she opened the door, she knocked twice and only entered when she heard a soft 'come in'. In contrast to her own mother, it was important to June to give her children some privacy.

In order to be able to talk to her daughter, June turned the control of the older stereo system down until the music stopped and a comfortable silence took over.

Just like her, Alanna had a weakness for vintage things and the boho style. A stack of Polaroid pictures lay on the stereo system that Jax had given her when they moved in a few months ago. He actually wanted to throw it away, but when Alanna discovered the stereo system in his garage while clearing out, she wanted it immediately.

Alanna's room, tidy but still a little chaotic, consisted of walls painted a soft yellow, exactly the opposite of Callie's room, which was literally bathed in pink. Pinks walls, pink bedding, even a pink carpet.

There were also plants on dark brown shelves and on the desk in the same color. A find from the flea market that June and Alanna always visited together. A hobby that both of them shared.

The mattress next to Alanna gave in as June sat down next to her and brushed some dark strands of hair from her face, which covered it as she kept her head bowed.

"Why are you still so angry with Dad?", June asked softly, carefully even.

Only a quiet sigh fell from Alanna's lips as she stared at the Polaroid pictures in her hand, memories of the weekend at the lake. A weekend that she had secretly enjoyed but didn't want to admit because she was just as stubborn as her father. Another thing she had inherited from him.

"He just left us", she murmured, and there was so much disappointment and sadness in her voice, so much anger in her words, that June had to swallow softly. "He promised me he would always stay with us and that he would never leave me like my biological mom didᅳ and he didn't keep his promise!"

"Aren't you angry at him anymore at all?" Tears gathered in the nine-year-old's doe-brown eyes, her head snapping up to look at her mother.

June, quite moved by Alanna's words and the little outburst of anger, squeezed her eyes shut to hide her own tears. Seeing your own children suffer was probably the worst thing for a parent.

"Of course I'm still angry", she answered honestly, sincerity but also a certain warmth in her blue eyes as she placed an arm around Alanna's shoulder.  "But you know, sometimes adults primise things that they just can't keep. I know that sounds like a bad excuse, but your dad just wanted the best for us, sweetheart."

Confused, and Alanna had every right to be, she shook her head. "So leaving us alone is the best thing? I don't understand, mom."

"God, you've grown up so much", June said with a wistful smile as the nine-year-old answered as if she were much older already. "What your dad did doesn't make senseᅳ but it made sense to him in that moment. Sometimes we're so blinded by fear that we do stupid things. And that's exactly what happened."

"Well, but if he knows he acted stupid then he can make it up to you, to us!" Despair evident in Alanna's frustrated voice, her lips began to tremble as she threw the pictures on the floor. "I miss him, and I freakin' hate that he just left!"

The moment the nine-year-old burst into tears, allowing her emotions to flow freely for the first time since her parents broke up, she threw herself into June's arms that immediately closed around her body. Sobbing and sniffling, the girl hid her face on June's shoulder.

"I'm here, baby", June whispered, no longer able to hide her own tears. This outburst of emotion came so unexpected that even June was overwhelmed at first. So she decided to just hold Alanna and give her the comfort she needed. "And Dad is always there for you, too, even if he's not here every day. You know you can call him anytime and he'll be here within ten minutes."

"It's not fair that he's not here!" Was all Alanna could choke out before another deep sob burst from her throat and tore June's heart apart.

How could she make a clean cut and draw a final line when she knew that her children missed their father as much as she did?

ᅳ

HAPPY ENTERED THE CLUBHOUSE, his kutte sticking to his back as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, finally surrounded by cooler air instead of the intrusive heat from outside.

It was quiet, most members in their rooms to rest after the exhausting morning and just unwind or let off steam, preferably with a Croweater.

Only Jax sat at the bar, having learned from his mistakes and now knowing better that it was smarter not to cheat on Tara again. But just like Happy, he just wanted to push his Old Lady away to keep her safe. But what worked for June had the exact opposite effect on Tara, the doctor clinging to Jax even more now.

"Hey." Happy sat down on the bar stool next to his brother-in-law and ordered a whiskey from Rat, who was standing behind the bar washing glasses. "You okay?"

"Nah man, everything is threatening to escalate and I just don't know what to do anymore." It was rare that Jax admitted to himself that he was overwhelmed by a situation, that he had no idea how to keep shit running. "The war with the Argent Devils, it's even worse than the one with the Mayans back then."

"Then we have to make sure that their club disappears, we gotta have to wipe them out", Happy answered, downing the glass of whiskey. After the breakup, he had drunk so much of the liquor that he didn't even feel it burn down his throat anymore. "I want my wife back, my kidsᅳ which means the Argent Devils have to go, fast."

"What?" Jax' eyes widened in surprise, his body now turned towards Happy. "You really want my sister back?"

"What do you think?" Letting out a snort-like sound, the SAA shook his head. "That was the plan from the start. As soon as there is no more danger, I'll get my family backᅳ and that has to happen soon before I'll lose them completely."

Happy was silent for a while, as was Jax, who noticed that Happy still had something to say. And Jax gave his brother-in-law the moment, curious to hear Happy's next words.

"June wants a divorce", he grumbled, tapping on the counter to tell Rat to refill his glass. "She gave me the papers three days ago, told me to sign them. Her signature was already on them."

"Shit." Jax ran a hand down his face, scratching his beard in thought. "She never mentioned anything about a divorce. I would've warned you, man, I hope you know that."

Happy just waved it off with a grunt, downing the next glass. "I don't think she told anyone. Maybe Amber, but she would never tell anyone if June wanted her to keep it to herself."

"Probably not, no", the blonde sighed, shaking his head before placing a hand on Happy's shoulder, squeezing it. "I'll talk to her, I wanted to stop by her studio later anyway to see if she's okay."

"Why? Did something happen?" Immediately alarmed, Happy swept around and stared at his Pres.

"Nah, she just had a few problems with Ma. Gemma doesn't want to understand why June wants her to stay away for a few weeks", Jax explained with a slight grin that faded as quickly as it had formed. "June's feeling like shit, man. She's not the same without you, but I know my sisterᅳ if you really want her back, you'll have to try hard. Cheating on herᅳ that's something June can't forgive, she's not Gemma or Tara."

"I didn't even cheat on her and you know that", Happy insisted stubbornly, tapping his glass on the counter. "Another one, Prospect."

"Uh, are you sure?" Rat asked carefully, visibly tense when Happy gave him his famous death glare. "Sorry", he mumbled quickly before he refilled the glass.

Jax just chuckled, amused by the little scene that had just unfolded before he became serious again. "But June doesn't know that you only hired Jenny, that the whole thing was agreed upon and only started when June showed up."

"You think she could forgive me if I explained everything to her?" Dejected, Happy finally drained the newly refilled glass before looking back at Jax. "You know that I'd never actually cheat on your sister. June was and still is the only one for me."

"I know that, bro, you don't have to tell me that." With a slap against Happy's shoulder blade, Jax folded his arms on the counter and stared at his beer with a frown. "And June actually knows it too. To this day she still can't believe that you really did it. So yeah, I think if you explain everything to her there's a chance that she might forgive you."

"I fuckin' hope so", Happy sighed deeply, rubbing both hands over his exhausted face before he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Jax wanted to know, his eyebrows drawn together in curiosity.

"Tell your mom to give June the space she needs", Happy explained as he was already on his way towards the door and shortly afterwards crossed the lot to get to the workshop's office.

He may have had a lot of respect for Gemma, but he had more respect for his wife, whose well-being was more important to him. And if she didn't have the nerves for Gemma right now, he would take care of it.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

is Arthur capable of romantic love? How does that work with Francis who's unable of fidelity?

Hmmm good question tbh. And good comparison! I think bc they are that way, they just fit. Arthur is indeed capable of romantic love, but it's a love that comes with conditions. François is a perfect fit for that. They have an on and off thing going on and Arthur is comfortable with that. He is a person who doesn't really need romance in his life constantly, but sure, every once in a while you'll find the rat and frog combo in an intimate setting, sitting on the couch in Arthurs study sharing a moment. Happens every other leap year but still. Arthur doesn't expect fidelity or exclusivity from François and François doesn't expect romantic gestures or love confessions. It works out.

Arthur has had lovers throughout his millenias but the only kind of love that is constant for him is a sort of paternal love for his children. And even that is limited in it's expression. Zee gets material proof of Arthurs care and love and the ocasional "my dearest girl" and "my poppet". She is on the recieving end of Arthurs material generosity, getting dresses, supplies, trips as well as plane tickets payed for by her dad. Jack is rewarded with an understanding from Arthur that he doesn't have to live up to his dads high expectations (which is a strong form of love when it comes to Arthur) and doesn't have to bust his ass to be his son. He gets to study veterinary medicine and has the full support of his dad. Matt is tricky bc his love will always be on wobbly legs. He isn't Arthurs biological son, and even if Arthur insists it doesn't matter, it's a factor in their relationship. More recently (after the great war) Matt has gotten the status of Arthurs no. 1 confidante, and thats a strong and special love by itself.

Alfred is a different story altogether. Even if he won't admit it, Arthur would give his firstborn the sun, moon and stars from the sky. If Alfted does something well or even extraordinary it's always "Well it's Alfred." He is the first one to receive Arthurs (uncommon) compassion, care and understanding.

As for romantic love, he can live without it. His randevous with Portugal, France, Spain etc... are all that: randevous. François ia honestly the only constant romantic partner he can stand. Precisely because François gives him the space to not not call for months, not answer texts and not initiate a meeting between them. If Arthur is up for it, great, let's ruin the sheets. But if he's not, well François has other contacts in his phone.

In short, they fit. Not asking too much and not recieving too much. They know eachother well enough for it to work. They like it that way.

[dk-thrive]

The couch was old and soft and belonged to a client who hadn’t picked it up, it was upholstered in a new red linen cloth patterned with purple flowers that had no referent in the real world, they were simply flowers, a human fantasy about flowers, the kind of freedom artists have when it comes to nature, to observe it and then choose to invent something else instead.

— Ia Genberg, The Details: A Novel (translated by Kira Josefsson) (HarperVia, August 8, 2023)

[myhauntedsalem]

9 Terrifying American Murder Houses

From Amityville Horror to Jeffrey Dahmer’s one-bedroom, these murder houses are home to some truly brutal murders.

9. THE AMITYVILLE HORROR HOUSE 112 OCEAN AVE, AMITYVILLE, NY

When the deal is too good, start asking questions. In 1975, George and Kathy Lutz bought this sprawling Dutch Colonial on the south shore of Long Island at a bargain rate. The reason for the discounted price tag? Just 13 months earlier, previous resident Ronald “Butch” DeFeo slaughtered his parents and four younger siblings while they slept in their beds. It didn’t take long for the weirdness to begin. Demonic voices, oozing walls, cloven hoof prints in the snow. The Lutz family lasted just two months before fleeing 112 Ocean Avenue in the night.

8. THE HEX MURDER HOUSE REHMEYERS HOLLOW RD, SHREWSBURY, PA

In 1928, John Blymire was convinced a reclusive neighbor named Nelson Rehmeyer had put a hex upon him. Believing the only way to break the curse was to track down Rehmeyer’s spell book and set it ablaze, Blymire rallied two buddies for a late-night visit. While the gang never found the book, they did find Rehmeyer whom they murdered and mutilated before setting his body on fire. In 2007, an effort was made to open the Hex House to the public, but the plan was eventually scrapped.

7. MOORE FAMILY AXE MURDER HOUSE 508 E 2ND ST, VILLISCA, IA

On a cool summer night in 1912 someone broke into this peaceful Iowa homestead and bludgeoned all six family members plus two houseguests with an axe. The horrific scene was discovered the following morning by a concerned neighbor. Numerous suspects were named in the case including a traveling minister and State Senator Frank F. Jones. Nevertheless, the murder remains unsolved.

6. KREISCHER MANSION 4500 ARTHUR KILL RD, STATEN ISLAND, NY

German entrepreneur Balthasar Kreischer built this sprawling mansion in 1885 as a symbol of his success in the brick making business. The good times were short-lived. By 1894, his company had crumbled and his youngest son had shot himself in the head. The decaying mansion sat empty for years until its groundskeeper used the property for a mob hit in 2005. Joseph Young strangled and stabbed his target before finally drowning the man in a garden pool. Young then hacked up the body and burned it in the mansion’s incinerator.

5. LIZZIE BORDEN HOUSE 230 2ND ST, FALL RIVER, MA

On August 4, 1892 Andrew Borden was thrashed with a hatchet while he dozed on the couch of his parlor. Andrew’s second wife Abby met an equally grisly end in the upstairs bedroom. While everyone in Fall River suspected daughter Lizzie of the crime, the local judge remained unconvinced. She was tried and acquitted of the murder one year later. Oddly, the home is now a successful bed & breakfast.

4. MANSON FAMILY MURDER HOUSE 10050 CIELO DRIVE, LOS ANGELES, CA

In 1969, members of the Manson Family shocked the nation when they broke into this L.A. estate and slaughtered Sharon Tate along with four other victims. The murderers wrote pig in blood across the front door. Numerous residents have since called 10050 Cielo Drive home including musician Trent Reznor, who recorded THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL there. In 1994, the original structure was razed and replaced with a new mansion, currently occupied by the creator of FULL HOUSE.

3. JEFFREY DAHMER’S APARTMENT 924 NORTH 25TH ST, APT 213, MILWAUKEE, WI

Cannibal killer Jeffrey Dahmer lured numerous victims to his nondescript one-bedroom, where he drugged and dismembered them in a brutal campaign of murder. Severed limbs were packed in the freezer for future consumption; torsos were dumped in a vat of acid. Police finally arrested Dahmer in 1991 after one of his prisoners managed to escape. The entire apartment building was torn down shortly thereafter.

2. JOHN WAYNE GACY’S HOUSE 8213 SUMMERDALE AVE, CHICAGO, IL

It’s always good to know your neighbors especially if you suspect them of murder. John Wayne Gacy buried dozens of bodies in the basement and backyard of his suburban home while neighbors casually went about their day. When Gacy’s wife complained of a putrid smell, Gacy blamed it on dead mice. By the time police nabbed the infamous killer clown and excavated his 8213 Summerdale Ave property, they uncovered 29 bodies.

1. GARDETTE-LAPRETE HOUSE 1240 BURGUNDY ST, NEW ORLEANS, LA

In the late 1830s, plantation owner Jean LePrete leased his French Quarter Greek Revival to a mysterious man from Turkey. The renter, known only as The Sultan had more than a few roommates. He arrived with a massive entourage of eunuchs and concubines. The house quickly became known for its lavish parties, with music and revelry carrying on into the night. One morning, a passerby noticed 1240 Burgundy was eerily quiet. Then he spotted blood seeping out of the door. When authorities entered, they found everyone inside had been murdered and dismembered. As for The Sultan? He was buried alive in the courtyard. To this day, the case remains unsolved.

[edgessunflower]

Samoan care

Pairing: Solo Sikoa x Fem reader

Description: While dealing with your Fibromyalgia, your boyfriend helps care for you

Solo is at first is confused when you don't come to hug and kiss him after walking through the door, instead greeted to the sound of groans and winces coming from the living room. He slowly sits beside you as you curl in a ball on the couch which breaks his heart to see you in so much unbearable pain "Is your fibro acting up baby?" you only raise your hand for a thumbs up, he slowly rubs your shoulders making sure to especially press his fingers and rub them on the back and sides of your neck before gently lifting you in his arms off the couch and carries you up stairs laying you in bed with a warm blanket and heating pad while he starts a hot bath full of epsom salt and with your favorite candle lit letting the water cool down for a few minutes before helping you to the bathroom and strip down, after helping you in the tub he places shorts and one of his shirts on top of your towel before going downstairs and making dinner. You feel much better after soaking, laying down in bed after drying off and putting the shorts and shirt on despite it being big on you, you enjoy watching episodes of Z nation when solo comes in the bedroom with two plates of dinner smiling as you eat always enjoying every meal he cooks especially traditional samoan meals always falling more in love with the culture and him even more when you eat a meal, "I appreciate you doing this baby" he shakes his head as you both finish eating placing a sweet kiss on your temple "Taking care of you is my job manamea" you blush at him speaking samoan to you, it always made you feel special that he would trust, care, and love you so much to speak his traditional tongue around and to you wanting your soul as you lay your head on his chest as he massages and caresses your hips "Ou te alofa ia te oe pepe teine" you don't know what he said at the time but you feel so much love in the moment as you doze off in his arms.

[bullet-prooflove]

Dirty A-Z headcanon game for Ed Green:

A, B, K, L, U, Y

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?) 

If he’s in a dry spell Ed watches porn, he’s really fond of oral sex scenes. He loves going down on a woman and hearing them enjoy themselves so that’s the kind of thing he likes to watch. He has specific videos he flicks back to because he hates all the fake orgasm stuff you see in porn. He’s more into the sensual stuff instead of someone getting ploughed. He’s usually gets it over with quickly when he’s sitting on his couch.

 In the mornings he usually jerks off in the shower as it’s quick and efficient.

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?) 

Only with someone he has an immense trust with. He has heard too many stories about officers who’ve taken home a girl, let the cuffs come out and then been robbed or humiliated. If he does get cuffed it’s usually with one hand because there’s an element of control there still for him. Also, he loves touching you and participating so would hate being restrained completely.

If his partner needs to get out of their own head, he’s happy to be doing the tying. He understands the nature and pressures of the job esp in an IA role, it can be tough to switch mindsets and relax. Again it’s a one hand thing but instead for consent purposes. He wants to make sure you have the same level of control that he does in that situation. He’s a very equal opportunities partner.

K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?) 

Loves kissing your pussy, could spend hours just kissing you there, not licking or sucking or fucking, just kissing it over panties and under. It drives you absolutely crazy how good he is at it and how sensual it is.

Loves it if you leave a mark on his skin because he’s fucking you so good. It’s a testament to a night well spent pleasuring his woman.  Loves when he leaves a mark on you under your clothes, it gives him a thrill knowing that you belong to him in that way.

Adores it when you kiss his thighs, will run his hands through your hair as your lips brush over them. It makes him feel loved and cared for, it creates an intimacy between the two of you because you’re not just heading for the main event. Same with his hips and the juncture leading further down.

L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?) 

He prefers to have the lights on so he can see every single inch of you.

U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all… do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?) 

He’s a boxers man, ones that are a little tight and hold everything where it’s supposed to be because he doesn’t want things jangling around when he has to chase down perps. He’s very practical.

If you put on lingerie for him, he shows you exactly how grateful he is. It’s something special when you dress up for him and he worships you completely.

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)

The term baby is reserved exclusively to the bedroom due to the nature of the relationship. You will deny it completely but you love it when he calls you that because it makes you feel like you belong to him despite the fact you tell him it’s a casual