#absolutely love reading through your writings

[auroracalisto]

with all the power in oz

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 2.2k words summary: the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom. a/n: YOU pronouns are used to address the reader, but there is no usage of y/n. just watched the movie today. tried to find a fic, couldn't. here I am writing one instead. reader worries a lot. so me. you're welcome. also, I'm going into this blind. I have unfortunately never seen the actual musical (downsides to living in the middle of nowhere) so I'm only going off based on wikis and the movie. it should be gn as I read through it like... five different times, but please let me know if I missed something!

Breathtaking. That's what he was. But could you truly refer to a man like him as breathtaking?

The very features that graced his face were absolutely mesmerizing, and you felt like a fool watching him at times. How could you not? He seemed so full of life, so full of... well, not a care in the world, really. It was as if he brushed everything off of his shoulders without hesitation.

You could only wished you were the same way.

No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.

No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.

For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.

Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.

Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.

You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.

As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.

You'd melt just being near him.

"Fiyero," you softly greet.

He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.

"I am."

"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.

"I'm fine," you simply said.

He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"

You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."

"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."

You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"

"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."

"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.

"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll be quite happy."

You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.

A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.

"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."

"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you dread them?"

"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."

He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."

You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"

"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"

You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?

He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.

The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.

The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.

Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.

Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.

But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.

Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.

He looked just as handsome as ever.

Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.

You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—

"You made it!"

Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.

You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.

Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.

You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.

"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."

Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.

"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.

"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."

Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."

"But I don't—"

"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."

"Teach me?"

"It's as easy as breathing," he said.

"For you, maybe, but not for—"

"—humor me," he said, smiling.

You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.

"I do not dance," you repeated.

"I think I will be the judge of that."

He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.

"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."

"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."

"What? What does that—"

He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.

"See? A natural."

"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."

"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.

"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."

"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."

Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?

No.

Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.

"What of Galinda?" you repeated.

"What of her?"

"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."

"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."

You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."

"She must," you said, huffing softly.

"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."

"Eyes for someone else?"

He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.

"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"

Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."

You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"

He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Not even a little!"

"No!"

His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"

You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."

"You're lying," he said.

"I am not."

"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."

You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.

"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."

"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"

"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"

He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"

"Try what?"

"I think you know."

You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.

"Very well," you softly said.

"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.

"Fiyero, that wasn't—"

"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"

Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."

Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."

"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."

"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"

You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.

"With all the power in Oz."

[thatonebirdwrites]

This absolutely horrifies me and angers me so much.

I write and write, even while in severe pain. Because I love the act of creating. I've written million of words, hashed out the plots and characters, dug into the themes, crafted fun character arcs through research and ridiculous dreams -- my hands ache from typing sometimes.

But that joy of creating and sharing is why I do it.

I am disabled. There's a lot of things I simply cannot do, but I will write despite my limitations and pain because I will not let anyone or any system take away my mind and creativity. Transcription software is often a helpful tool for when my hands won't cooperate; tools like that aid me in getting my thoughts into the document. Generative AI does not aid in that. It steals your ability to think. It stills away your creativity. It gives you a shadow of what could have been, and relying on it? And being proud of it?

That's not writing. That's a bastardization of it. It's shitting on writing, smearing the shit onto AO3, and then proudly proclaiming you wrote that shit. No, you actually did not write that shit. It was pooped out by generative AI, which steals from millions of creators (illegally in some countries in fact, and why lawsuits keep being drawn up against the makers of it), plus it degrades the environment with how much energy and water it needs to power its servers. So you have a hallucinatory, poopful, sludge stolen from millions of others and crammed together with words that end up melting from their own inadequacy and shit-stained pyres.

Sorry, but I will not ever read that.

And no, writing isn't crafting a prompt for a machine to regurgitate somewhat random things for you.

Writing is actually sitting down to write with your hands (or feet for some disabled folks) or with your voice (transcription software), and using your own body and brain to create something from your heart and soul.

A machine cannot do that for you. Only you can do that.

Trust in your own body and mind, trust that whatever you write with your own abilities will be good and a million times better than what a machine vomits out. You can write it yourself without the aid of a machine. I believe in you.

Anyway, that's my rant of the year I guess.

Thanks for reading. Be safe.

just saw a fanfic on ao3 have a dedication for chatgpt... that section is meant for your horny perverted mutual who proofread your work, you violated sacred law and you will be torn apart and laid bare btw

[octahyde]

Ok actually one thing that really really bothers me about how widespread people are negatively reacting to the anime just for the fact that anime onlys are going to be in the fandom is like

This is going to make TWST so much more accessible

Like… not everyone can sit down for several hours and read a visual novel. It’s very time and focus intensive. Not everyone can read logs of the dialogue on wikis, either. There are several people who are unable to enjoy this story based solely on medium. A good example is my qpp; he loves TWST. He loves the story. He loves the characters. But he can’t get past Book 3 because the format is completely inaccessible to him. He’s tried. I’ve tried with him. He just… cannot do it. The novels are a godsend because it’s a way he can finally read the story in a format that works for him. The anime will also help a lot because he���ll be able to hear the voice acting, which is a very important part of TWST’s story telling.

Or even just in general, I don’t think I need to post about how I Like Horror, but I am unable to read anything longer than a short story. In particular, I am almost fully unable to read King because of how incompatible his writing style is- despite really wanting to. I have tried and failed to read Pet Sematery more times than I can count. The 80’s movie, though? I love it. It lets me experience a very important work to the genre in ways I would otherwise be completely unable to. Same with Misery.

Like… it’s super frustrating to see people advocate for story accessibility in things like video games, only to turn around and say “except for things I LIKE, they’ll get my favs wrong!!!” Especially when it’s in a fairly inaccessible medium.

I especially have a bone to pick with Idia fans I see on Twitter doing this. There’s a lot of fear “normies” will be ableist about their favorite cartoon character, while… in the process being extremely ableist to actual human beings. It’s extremely frustrating and upsetting to see people prioritize their (heavily mentally disabled, I might add) favorite fictional character over actual irl disabled people. I don’t think people, especially autistic people who can’t do VNs, should be limited from a beautiful story just because other people you can block Might Make Incel Jokes.

(My qpp? He’s autistic. And schizophrenic. And has CPTSD. He relates a LOT to Idia just from what I’ve told him about her and her arc.)

Like… get your fucking priorities straight. I was hyperfixated on Danganronpa when the DR1 anime came out. I was hyperfixated on Persona 4 when the P4 anime came out. Ace Attorney has been one of my absolute favorite series since middle school, and I was going through my obligatory hyperfixation phase I have every few years when the AA anime came out. I massively prefer the YuGiOh manga to the DM anime.

Anime onlys are EXTREMELY easy to avoid and are not the fucking end of the world.

Especially in a fandom with so many autistic people. Have some empathy for disabled people who have different symptoms than you do.

[fillinforlater]

The Archive of Smite

This page belongs to the writer named Smite. He wrote fics starting in September of 2021 up until April 2024. In these 2,5 years, over 8.000 people followed him to read some of the craziest k-pop girl group smut out there. Almost 150 stories of sex in all kinds of positions, for many reasons, all over the world (and in outerspace), with too many kinks to count.

"When I started, I kinda wanted to become the best. I wanted my favorite writers at the time - Levi, Peach, Sins, and many more - to know that I could write as good as they can. I wanted to go wilder and crazier."

Smite, though ambitious, was also stupid and naive. At roughly the same time he started writing, two other community legends began their careers. IZ and Kaede crushed everything in their sight, especially the former becoming an absolute legend.

"Writing was fun. At times, it was escapism from everyday worries. At other times, it was fulfillment of fantasies I could never reach. Mostly though, it was just horny. BFH that just became words. If you go through my Masterlist, you might see which idols had some random heights or were just... Always on my hot list."

Smite never really stopped writing, not for long stretches that is. It didn't really occur to him that there might be a sudden, drastic reason to stop. He considered doing so anyways. Something about writing porn about irl people without them knowing or wanting - needless to say, it is an odd hobby. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it amd the community it brought with it.

"I fucking love these guys. So many hilarious peoplefrom all over the world. One became like my best friend, a rock during my emotional struggles. Another was my boyfriend for a short time. Man, I screwed up with him kekw. There are too many to mention. I've had long talks with some, others just came by and listened to me mald or something. I love you all, some of you I consider true friends - part of my soul - and I feel connected, even if you are thousands of miles away."

2024 started stressful for Smite. The pressure of Uni started to collapse on him. Even the thought of big kpop concerts wasn't enough to cheer him up. Luckily though, there was this girl. Sweet, kind, caring and in the same position. Soon, he had found something that seemed impossible. She was in love with him and he in love with her. And when everything unraveled.

"I stopped writing. I burried my drafts. I finished only one story and released it way later. I'm sorry I didn't announce it properly, but I just felt that this smut writing career was over. I don't regret it - I gained something beautiful I want to keep for the rest of my life. She is at least as pretty as Minju, so I call that the biggest win imaginable lol."

So no more smuts from Smite?

"99% no"

No more fanfictions/girl group stories in general?

"Eh, 80% no. Still some unfinished angst that I would love y'all to read tho"

Will you ever reach those 150 fics?

"We will see. In this count there are fics with less than 1000 words. I might just sneeze and finish it kekw"

Any fic you regret not writing?

"Not really? Maybe a proper ending for Starship: Horizon? Or yet another Minju fic? Futa stuff? Gaeul angst x female reader? Or how about a fic with 69 different idols at once? Who but me would dare to write something so stupid?"

Do you think you reached your initial goal?

"Do I consider myself the GOAT? No. That title belongs to either Peach, Levi or IZ. But I know that of my now 8.700 followers some consider me their favorite writer. I'm flattered and thank you very much for reading amd enjoying my work."

Now for the most important question: does this post mean you are finally leaving the community behind for good? Is this your last hoorah?

"..."

"Never."

[diamonddaze01]

Hi, Tara! could you do prompt 57 “will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!” w/ Jeonghan?

i absolutely love your writing and I can't wait to see more of yours jeonghan's fics (since i'm surrended by him

on the record

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!" au: f1 au | warnings: none a/n: hello anon! thank you for the kind words! // if any of y'all can guess my f1 team i'll kiss u

The paddock was alive with electric energy, a symphony of celebration that roared louder than the engines had earlier in the night. Ferrari red bled into every corner of the circuit, vibrant under the floodlights that cut through the haze of champagne mist. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt rubber and victory, mingling with the faint metallic tang of the trophy that gleamed like a beacon in the jubilant crowd.

At the center of it all stood Yoon Jeonghan, illuminated by the relentless flashes of cameras. His race suit clung to his frame, damp with champagne and sweat, the prancing horse emblem on his chest catching the light like a polished gem. The gold World Drivers' Championship cap perched on his head tilted slightly, its brim glistening from the spray of celebration. His blonde hair, damp and tousled, framed a face that looked just as smug as it did radiant—victory personified.

This was the culmination of years of grit and audacity, the final word against those who’d called him “reckless,” “overrated,” and “all charm, no skill.” Yoon Jeonghan —Ferrari’s golden boy, the prince of the paddock—had silenced them all. His first World Drivers’ Championship was his, claimed in the most dramatic fashion, as if written to match the flair he carried with him like a second skin.

The Ferrari garage was a storm of elation, its occupants lost in a frenzy of cheers and embraces. Mechanics pounded one another on the back, their red uniforms soaked with champagne, while engineers grinned ear to ear as though they'd rewritten history. The sharp pop of another champagne bottle sent a fine spray across the crowd, sparkling like liquid gold under the lights.

But amidst the chaos, Jeonghan’s sharp gaze roamed. Even as shouts of congratulations rang out and microphones were thrust toward him, something inside him remained unsettled. This wasn’t enough. Not yet. His sharp eyes scanned the paddock for one specific face – he knew you were here. You always were.

Then, he spotted you.

You stood at the periphery of the chaos, notepad in hand, observing with the same clinical detachment you had all season. You, the reporter who had made a career out of scrutinizing him. Your articles were infamous—meticulously written takedowns of his driving style, his attitude, his every perceived misstep. Jeonghan had read every single one, memorized the jabs and barbs, and filed them away as fuel.

Now, you were watching him, though you stayed just out of the fray, notebook clutched to your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his gaze. The pen you tapped against its surface betrayed a rhythm too steady to be casual, a subtle tick of nerves that you otherwise wore well.

“Ah,” Jeonghan murmured to himself, a grin tugging at his lips. “There you are.”

Weaving through the crowd, he made a beeline toward you. You noticed him too late, your expression faltering for the briefest second before settling into its usual detached professionalism.

“Congratulations,” you said when he stopped in front of you, your voice steady, measured. “Ferrari must be thrilled to finally have a champion again. How does it feel to carry that weight on your shoulders?”

Jeonghan chuckled, brushing a hand through his champagne-soaked hair. “Feels great. Almost as great as proving you wrong every single weekend.”

Your pen paused mid-note, your eyebrow arching. “I see winning hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“Why would it? Humility didn’t get me here, sweetheart.” He leaned against the barricade beside you, his medal glinting under the lights, the smirk on his lips deepening.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead focusing on the notes in front of you. “Sure, but let’s not forget that Red Bull still has the Constructors' Championship. So, really, Ferrari’s only halfway there.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I’m just pointing out the facts,” you said, a nonchalant shrug accompanying your words. “One trophy doesn’t make you untouchable, no matter how smug you look in red.”

His laugh shifted, softer this time, almost fond. He opened his mouth to respond, but his tone wasn’t its usual sharpness. “I wanted to say—”

“What? That winning feels better than your PR team promised?” you interrupted, scribbling a quick note. “Or that the upgrades finally worked for you in—”

“Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you?” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice cutting through the background noise like a knife.

Your pen stilled, your grip tightening on the notepad. The sharpness in his voice startled you, not because it was harsh, but because it was so different from his usual cocky bravado. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, straightening up, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “For once, put the pen down, stop overanalyzing, and let me talk.”

The notepad felt suddenly heavy in your hands. Something in his expression—serious but still unbearably smug—compelled you to comply. You lowered it, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “Well?” you asked, sharper than you intended. “Say whatever it is you need to say and get back to basking in your glory.”

He sighed dramatically, as if you were the one making this difficult, but the glint in his eye softened. “You know, I spent most of this season imagining what I’d say to you when I finally won.”

“‘Congratulations’ would’ve been fine.”

“Too simple,” he said, shaking his head. “Doesn’t cover it.”

Your patience thinned. “So what? Are you here to gloat or—”

“I wanted to thank you,” he said finally, the teasing edge falling from his voice.

The words hung in the air, and for once, you were at a loss for a sharp retort. “Thank me? For what?”

“For being my biggest critic,” he said, nodding toward the Ferrari garage, where the celebrations were still in full swing. “Every time I read one of your articles calling me reckless or undeserving, it pissed me off just enough to push harder. Every jab, every doubt—you made me better.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether to feel insulted or impressed. The sincerity in his voice was disarming, his usual bravado giving way to something real.

“I wasn’t trying to help you,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I was just doing my job.”

“And you’re great at it,” Jeonghan admitted, leaning in slightly. “Even if you’re a massive pain in my ass.”

Your face warmed, and you looked away, focusing on a distant point in the paddock. “Well, congratulations, Jeonghan. Don’t expect me to go easy on you next season.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his grin sliding back into place. “But don’t think you’re off the hook. You owe me one.”

“One what?”

“A nice article,” he said, his voice dropping as he leaned closer. “Something to make up for all the times you called me a liability in red.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but the heat of his gaze, the proximity, the champagne lingering on his skin, left you momentarily speechless.

“Think you can manage that?” he teased, tilting his head.

You forced yourself to smirk, though your heart was racing. “We’ll see. Don’t hold your breath.”

He chuckled, stepping back, but his parting words were as infuriating as ever. “Make it good, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Ferrari’s champion.”

Before you could come up with a response, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you with your notepad, your heartbeat louder than the celebrations around you, and a single, infuriating thought: Yoon Jeonghan had won again.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[shyflowerfem]

I don’t think it’s heartless. I’ve often scrolled through dark fanfics just for a laugh and to hate on it. But I also like to critically analyze them, which is just fun for me because I have a background in English literature and critical analysis (I’m a drop out, total failure lol 😭) but I still like to consider it my field since I’m going back soon. It’s also just my autistic hyperfixation so if it’s a book or fic or movie, etc., I will be analyzing the shit out of it and people will probably get annoyed and tell me it’s not that deep bro. But I just love being able to tell so many things about a person based off of their fandom crap and what they engage with and write, and what they like to read. I love psychology too and always bring a psych element into my analysis.

Like, if your fanfics are all tagged with incest and cnc and good girl kink and all that shit, yes that absolutely does say something significant about your sexuality. It’s basic Freudian stuff here. Especially when their tags are like #tentacles #monsters #dubcon lmao Freud would have SO much fun with that.

I used to get angry at some feminists for saying this, but I have also come to the difficult conclusion that a lot of women really do enjoy men being awful to them. If you browse fanfic websites like Ao3, you’ll see thousands of rape fantasies written by women, enjoyed by women. In the past when I attempted to criticize this, they responded by telling me I’m ruining their fun. That really says it all. That is what they consider fun.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (2)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 3.1k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: still nothing major. let me know if i need to mention anything.

A/N: posting part 2 right away, because i absolutely cannot wait for you guys to read more ahhhh. however, i just want to apologize for any sort of grammatical errors. english is not my first language so, please bare with me. also, while i was writing this story, i realised i would love it if you imagine the town's setting and vibe as something similar to "Stars Hollow" from the show Gilmore Girls, except it's a little more modern. does that make sense lmao? anywayssss, let me know your thoughts hehehehhe.

part 2: thorns in the asphalt

Finally done with the motorcycle he was working on, Jungkook stood up and clapped his hands together, sending a puff of dust and grease into the air. He lets out a shaky breath as he wipes his hands against the damp rag and glanced around at the bustling shop from outside. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was his dream finally coming to life.

The half-set-up motorcycle shop buzzed with activity, the sounds of hammers and drills blending with the faint hum of an engine someone was tinkering with in the back. The air carried a mix of oil, fresh paint, and the occasional whiff of pepperoni from the pizza his friends were devouring. Jungkook pushed open the side door to the main area, letting it swing shut behind him with a soft clang.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok—his partners in crime, both in business and in the gang—were gathered around a workbench repurposed as a makeshift table. Pizza boxes and soda cans littered the surface amid spare parts and tools.

"Hey Kook, want a slice?" Hoseok asks through a mouthful of food, lifting a greasy hand to wave a slice in his direction.

Jungkook shook his head, brushing past them towards the washroom. "No, thanks.” he muttered. A few moments later, he returned, his damp hands running through his hair as he leaned against the wall, eyes darting across the shop. Despite his attempt to focus on the chaos around him, his thoughts strayed to you.

He clenched his jaw, irritation flaring as he recalled your sharp tone and the unmistakable look of disdain you’d given him earlier. Yoongi glanced up from the catalog he was flipping through, sensing the shift in Jungkook’s mood. "What’s with the mood?" he drawls, his voice laced with mild curiosity.

"Is it because of the florist?" Jimin asks, his eyebrows quirking up as he tilted his head. The glint in his eyes revealed he already knew the answer. He’d overheard snippets of your exchange earlier in the morning when he’d briefly stepped out to help the workers.

Jungkook groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Why are you even bringing her up?" he snaps, though the exasperation in his tone lacked real heat. "Because you’re clearly bothered." Jimin teases, leaning forward with a knowing grin. "Let me guess, she gave you an earful about how we’re ruining her perfect little flower shop with all the noise and chaos?"

"Exactly!" Jungkook threw his hands up, his voice rising slightly. "She acts like I’m singlehandedly destroying her business just by existing. I tried to be polite—"

"Polite?" Hoseok interrupts, nearly choking on his soda as he fails to hide his laugh. "You? Polite? Kook, I’ve seen your polite face. It’s the same as your ‘don’t mess with me’ face, and honestly? It scares people." he adds, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Not helping.” Jungkook deadpans, shooting Hoseok a glare as he flopped into a chair near the counter. "Look, we’re moving in. Of course there’s going to be noise and commotion. Like what else does she expect? Silence and fairy dust?" he scoffs.

"Maybe she has a point.” Yoongi said, his tone calm as he flipped another page of his catalog. "We’re not exactly a quiet bunch. And you did rev your bike for, what, a solid minute when you parked earlier? Was that really necessary?" he questions.

Jungkook groaned again, throwing his head back. "That wasn’t for her! I was literally just testing the new pipes." he insists, his tone defensive.

"Sure you were," Jimin chimes in again, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. "And let me guess, she’s cute too, huh? That’s why you’re all worked up." he teases.

Jungkook froze for the briefest moment before his head snapped forward, his glare locking onto Jimin. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, it has everything to do with it.” Hoseok adds, leaning forward with a smirk. "Kook’s got a thing for the feisty and cute ones. Don’t deny it." he giggles with Jimin.

"You’re all insane." Jungkook mutters, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking an overly aggressive bite to distract himself from the conversation he so badly doesn't wanna have. "Admit it…” Yoongi suddenly says, finally setting the catalog aside to pin Jungkook with an amused look. "She got under your skin and that’s rare since usually, you’re the one doing the annoying."

"She’s NOT under my skin.” Jungkook argues, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. "She’s just... she's just being so damn unreasonable." He looked away, muttering under his breath. “I don’t even care."

"Uh-huh," Jimin said, exchanging a knowing glance with Hoseok as the two continue snickering. "Whatever," Jungkook grumbles, leaning back in his chair. "Let’s just focus on getting this place running. The sooner we’re open, the sooner I can stop worrying about her."

But even as he said it, his mind drifted back to you—the way your eyes flashed with annoyance, the sharp edge in your voice as you threw his words back at him.

//

The late afternoon sun streamed through the wide windows of your flower shop, casting a warm golden glow over the rows of vibrant blooms. You were carefully rearranging a bouquet of sunflowers, their cheerful yellow petals, a stark contrast to your lingering irritation from earlier. The noise from the shop next door had finally died down after the confrontation, leaving behind a calm, almost eerie silence.

You let out a small sigh, trying to tamp down your annoyance. "He’s moving in. Of course, there’s going to be noise." You repeated the thought to yourself, attempting to summon some patience. Still, that didn’t excuse Jungkook’s smug attitude. He had a knack for getting under your skin in record time.

The day passed peacefully after that. A few regulars stopped by every now and then, gradually making you think less of the way your day had started. The smiles of your customers as they left, made the effort worth it, reminding you why exactly you loved this job. Flowers had a way of softening even the hardest days.

As you glanced at the clock perched on your counter, the hands read 7:32 PM. The faint ache in your feet confirmed it was time to call it a day. You walked to the front of the store and flipped the "Open" sign to "Close" on your glass door.

As you turned around to walk towards your workbench, curiosity got the better of you, forcing you to make your way towards the window. You peeked out, trying to see something. The sidewalk, once cluttered with tools and crates, was now clear. The noise had disappeared entirely, and the only sign of life was the light spilling out onto the pavement. You couldn’t see anyone moving about inside. Shrugging, you stepped away from the glass, shaking off the lingering thoughts of your new neighbor.

Back at your workbench, you start by tidying up the scattered stems and trimmed leaves. Your fingers had just reached for a bundle of sunflower stalks when the soft chime of the bell above the door startled you. "We’re closed for the—" you began, turning around, but the words melted into a smile as your gaze landed on Taehyung.

He strolled in, exuding his usual effortless charm. He was dressed in a cozy brown sweater and a pair of white trousers while smudges of paint streaked across his hands. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a playful grin.

"Looks like someone had a busy day," you tease, gesturing towards the paint on his hands. "Art waits for no one," he replies dramatically as he leans against the counter like a protagonist in a renaissance painting. "But of course, I had to stop by and see my favorite florist." he adds, standing up straight.

You roll your eyes, laughing as he joins you at the workbench and begins helping you clean up. "Flattery won’t get you free flowers," you quip, sweeping a handful of cut stems into a bin.

"Who said I was here for flowers?" he shoots back, his grin widening. "I’ve got a better idea. Dinner. Tonight. The whole squad—Namjoon, Seokjin, Juwon, me, and you. You need a break, and we all miss you."

You pause, leaning against the counter as you consider his words. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to spend time with your closest friends. But after the day you’d had—between juggling work and the fiasco with Jungkook—you were tempted to go straight home and collapse into bed.

"I don’t know, Tae," you began with a small pout. "It’s been a long day."

"Exactly why you should come." he says, stepping closer, his tone now softening with concern. "What happened, though?"

You sigh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, not wanting to say anything. Judging your expression, Taehyung wraps his arm around your shoulder as he pats your arm. "Sounds like someone needs to vent over some good food." you hear him say, his teasing tone returning. "Come on. Join us. You can rant as much as you want, and I promise you’ll leave feeling at least a hundred times better."

You stare at him for a moment, weighing your options. The idea of being with your friends—laughing, talking, and letting the weight of the day slip away—was tempting. "Fine," you finally relent with a smirk. "But you’re paying for my dessert." you quickly add, smirking up at your best friend.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but instantly grins. "Deal. Now hurry up. We’ve got a table waiting, and I’m starving."

You laugh as the two of you continue tidying up around your store so that you can close up quickly and escape the chaos in your mind, just for a bit.

//

Jungkook leans against the frame of his shop’s side door as his tongue plays with the piercings on his lower lip. He let's out a deep exhale as he thinks about the long day he just had. Though the shop was coming together, the chaos of setting up and managing his friends’ antics had left him drained. He pulls out a cigarette from his pocket but hesitates, staring at it for a second before tucking it back in. With a shake of his head, he looks to his left, eyeing your shop.

He notices how your shop is still lit, its warm golden glow, a stark contrast to the sharp fluorescents of his workspace. He steps a little forward, inching closer to your store and halts just when he's able to get a view of what's happening inside. He peaks from the window, his eyes following through the gaps between the shelves of flowers. From where he was standing, the scene inside felt surreal, like something from a painting—the neat rows of flowers against the wall, the gentle sway of their petals under the ceiling fan, and then... you.

His eyes landed on you without warning, and it was like everything else blurred for a second. You were standing near your workbench, a soft smile playing on your lips as you leaned towards a man beside you. He was tall, dressed in earth tones and the two of you seemed to move in sync, tidying up the scattered stems and leaves, your laughter faint but clear in the stillness of the evening.

Jungkook’s breath hitched. That smile. It was nothing like the irritated glare you’d aimed at him earlier that morning. This was something entirely different. So delicate, so soft, so genuine in a way that felt private, like something he shouldn’t be witnessing.

He crossed his arms tightly, trying to shake the strange pull of the scene, but his gaze betrayed him, lingering despite himself. He stands there, wondering who that man is. A friend? A brother? A boyfriend? A husband?

"You’re staring," Yoongi’s voice cuts through the quiet, smooth as ever but laced with amusement. Jungkook jolts back into reality, straightening as his friends emerged from the shop, now standing behind him. Yoongi leans against Jungkook's shoulder, a sly smirk on his face, while Jimin and Hoseok stand back, each carrying half-empty soda cans.

"Her again?" Jimin teases as Jungkook feels his friend stand beside him. Jimin takes a sip from his soda and squints his eyes, looking inside your shop. "I’m not staring," Jungkook finally bites back, his tone sharper than intended. He looks away quickly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Right," Hoseok smirks, circling around to join them. "Then what were you doing? Meditating? Because it looked like you were ready to write her a sonnet." he mocks, earning a snort from the other two.

Jimin lets out a low whistle. "She does look cute tonight, I'm not gonna lie. I totally understand you." he says, his grin widening as Jungkook shoots him a deadly glare. "I wonder who's the guy." Yoongi suddenly says, tilting his head slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the man beside you. "I don’t know. And I don’t care.” Jungkook snaps, his voice low but taut.

"Oh, you care.” Hoseok said with a knowing chuckle, nudging Jimin as they exchanged grins. "Look at you. All tense and broody. It’s adorable." Jungkook faces them, his jaw tight. "I’m not tense. And I’m definitely not broody. I could care less about her." he huffs.

"Care less, huh?" Yoongi murmurs, raising a brow. "Funny how you can’t stop staring at her for someone you claim not to care about." he laughs as the other two agree. Jungkook scowls, but his friends were truly relentless.

"Come on, Kook, admit it.” Jimin says, moving away from his spot as he starts walking towards his bike that's parked near their store. Hoseok follows him and Jungkook hears Jimin continue. "You’ve got a thing for her. Feisty florist, sharp tongue, cute smile— basically your type."

"She’s NOT my type," Jungkook speaks, but his voice falters slightly, betraying him. He doesn't even realize his eyes have found their way back to you. "Then why are you still looking?" Yoongi asks, his tone almost gentle now, like he was daring Jungkook to confront something he wasn’t ready to.

Jungkook clenches his fists at his sides, as he finally looks away, glancing at Yoongi. He doesn't know what to say, but he turns back to look at you. He observes the way the unknown man leans closer to you, saying something that causes a grin to appear on your face. The sight sends a strange pang through Jungkook’s chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome but he ignores it.

His friends seemed to have noticed the shift because their teasing suddenly softens while their smirks are replaced with something quieter. "Hey..." Hoseok starts after a moment, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder as he carefully pulls him away from your window and begins walking towards their bikes. "If it bugs you that much, why don’t you just talk to her? Not like your grumpy act is working." he suggests.

"Yeah, sure," Jungkook mutters darkly as he shrugs off Hoseok’s hand and continues walking. "I’ll just stroll over there and say, ‘Hey, sorry for all the noise. By the way, is that your boyfriend?’ That’ll go great." he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Hoseok shakes his head.

"I didn't mean it like that, idiot. I meant like... in the days that come, maybe be nice to her, start a friendship... I don't know. She's our neighbor after all. Besides, today's only the first day, You have a ton of opportunities to start something fresh with her." he explains. "Yeah, he's right. It's better than standing here sulking.” Jimin shoots back, grinning.

Jungkook glares at them but says nothing, his thoughts too tangled to argue. His friends get on their bikes and wear their helmets. "Anyways, we're heading home. Lock the doors and make sure you get home safe too." Yoongi says, starting his bike. The other two follow him after a few minutes, bidding their goodbyes to Jungkook.

He quietly stands near his bike, a war between his brain and heart as he tries his best to decipher what exactly he is feeling right now. He shakes his head, telling himself there's no point thinking about all of this and walks back into his shop, deciding to just tidy up and head home. It's been a long day.

//

The diner was a cozy little spot on the edge of town, with warm lighting and the smell of fresh food in the air. Namjoon was already there when you arrived, his nose buried in a thick book, while Seokjin and Juwon were engaged in an animated conversation about work.

"Finally," Seokjin says as he spots you and Taehyung slide into the booth. "You’re late." he complains. "Blame her…" Taehyung says, pointing at you. "Sorry, I took some time cleaning up." you answer, taking off your coat and placing it on your lap.

Namjoon finally closes his book and looks up at the rest of you. "Wow feels like we're all linking up after ages." he says as everyone around the table laughs. "Joon we literally met last week." Seokjin says. "Yes but, Y/n wasn't there. You can't deny but it has been a while since all 5 of us have hung out." Namjoon states, earning a nod from everyone.

"You're right, i have been a little busy." You agree, smiling at everyone apologetically. "Oh it's alright Y/n-ah" Juwon says, as she proceeds to hold your hand on the table and rub your knuckles with her thumb. "How have you been? What's new?" she quickly asks.

Soon, conversation sparks up between the 5 of you as the food you had ordered arrives and somehow you find yourself ranting about the incidents of the day you just had. You launched right into the story, recounting every frustrating detail. Your friends listened intently, their reactions ranging from indignation to amusement.

"Sounds like he’s a pain.” Seokjin says, once you're somewhat done. "You should send him a passive-aggressive bouquet. A nice arrangement of thorns and poison ivy." he adds and Taehyung laughs at his comment. "Or maybe he’s just not used to someone standing up to him, you know." Juwon suggests with a smirk.

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. "Please. He’s not that intimidating. I will stand up to him whenever it's needed." you nod to yourself. "Ugh i hate him. He's like my biggest enemy right now." you let out, rubbing your temples.

Namjoon chuckles, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Be careful, Y/N. Strangers to enemies... that’s a slippery slope." he says, swallowing his food.

"And sometimes…" Taehyung suddenly adds, his grin mischievous "it’s the best kind of slope." You groan as you hear him say that, dropping your head onto the edge of the table as your friends laugh. If this was the start of your interactions with Jungkook, you dreaded to think what the rest of your coming days would look like.

<- part 1 // part 3 ->

[letsbangts]

tell me what to do || jjk

⤷ summary: when the familiar becomes unfamiliar what do you do

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 3.4k

⟶ genre: angst, established relationship au, breakup au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, big argument, talking about breaking up, the blame game, basically misunderstanding due to miscommunication

⟶ warnings: explicit language

a/n: once again, this a very old piece I polished up, okay so this was my second piece of work so read with caution. as you can guess it is based on shinee’s tell me what to do because I was absolutely obsessed with the song so I used the lyrics as a guideline for writing, I incorporated the lyrics into the story. let me know what you think i really appreciate feedback :) & recommend a song if you’d like and i’ll write a scenario with it like i did with this song)

☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎

these days, i don’t know, i don’t know you.

you look like you gave up on a lot of things

but i hear your silent scream

I sit at the dining table drinking tea in my home - our home but lately nothing seems like ours anymore. It feels like there never was an ours, never an us. I don’t even need to sense it, I can see it. It’s as though I don’t know him anymore. He looks like he gave up on a lot of things, and like he gave up on us. I can almost hear him silently screaming for an end, our end.

lovers without extreme development

is this the losing hand that time has placed?

we haven’t ended it but it’s already over

He walks through the doorframe fully dressed ready for his day while still sporting his messy bedhead that he somehow manages to make look angelic. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed, I still see his beauty and that’s something I don’t think could ever change. Because that is what he is a beauty inside and out and that can’t simply disappear.

He greets me with a gentle kiss on the forehead, a soft  “good morning” and a soft smile. We’ve been like this for a while now, stuck in this certain level of interaction almost a routine. Like lovers without any extreme development, without any growth in our relationship if you can even call it that anymore.

“Did you sleep well?” I ask a bit apprehensively.

He picks up the coffeepot, while avoiding any slight piece of eye contact and pours himself a cup with the coffee I made for him, just another part of our routine. I’ve always hated coffee, its dull blackness, the bitter taste, the way it leaves a stain, how the smell lingers, and how it keeps you awake. But after Jungkook that view changed for me, its dull blackness suddenly started reminding me of Jungkook’s dark dreamy eyes, the bitter taste of it reminded me of his lips as that was my only intake of it, and those stains it left was warmth around my heart, the smell was like being engulfed in his arms, and it allowed me and him to be up spending more hours together. In a way, coffee was like a representation of our love.

However, that love has turned black and bitter just like the coffee in his mug. The sweet smiles we always shared and the bright laughs that used to be heard between us vanished. He vanished, pulled away and it was too late to try to pull him back.

“Mhm,” he replies nodding while taking a sip, and like our love, it disappears as he swallows it down.

I nod with him and look down at my hands wrapped around my mug. Is this the losing hand that time has placed? Were we just doomed to keep repeating the same routine with each other in denial, in silence similar to the one we are currently sitting in a few metres apart while we are living in different worlds away from one another?  We haven’t ended it but it’s already over. We were already over.

He refuses to have conversations with me when before no one could ever shut us up. Instead of constantly messing around to get a smile out of each other, he always seems to be at a safe distance away from me.

there’s a knot that can’t be untied

in front of us

As the bottoms of both our cups are revealed, so is our obvious stunt to keep a conversation from starting. Jungkook sets his mug in the sink and approaches me, and with just those movements my heart races.

“Well I’m going to head off okay?”, he stares at me with an expression I struggle to read…it’s almost…apologetic.

“Yeah, I need to start getting ready anyway,” I say.

“Okay then I guess I’ll see you later,” he says like it's a question while picking up his keys and approaching the door. As if he is unsure we will return to each other as if we are not one another's home.

I hum in agreement and just as his hand is about to touch the knob. I realise he forgot, one of the things that I assumed had turned into second nature for us has slipped out of his head. Now fearing that I could be the next thing to slip out of his head or even worse slip out of his life.

“Jungkook?” I call out.

He turns almost too quickly like he has been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

“Yeah?” he turns with wide eyes.

I give him a look, a look that speaks words only he could understand.

“Ah,” he sighs approaching me.

He cups my face with two hands, hands that are all too familiar but feel like they belong to a stranger at the same time.

He gives me the kiss I had reminded him of. It isn't necessarily part of our routine but something we have always done. It was always our sign of love to the other before we headed out into the world, a reminder of our love.

A reminder I think is much needed for us both.

He pulls away still holding my face “Sorry” he says and this time the apologetic look in his eyes is all too clear matching his voice.

But as I hear his words his ‘sorry’ seems to be for a different reason than just forgetting to kiss me before leaving the house. But without thinking more I just let it go.

“It’s okay. Get going now or you’ll be late.” I laugh softly and with one last kiss, he’s out the door.

There’s a knot that can’t be untied in front of us, both knowing that we should let go, that we should kiss goodbye one last time and both walk out of that door and go our separate ways for good. But that is easier said than done.

Jungkook and I both well aware of the fall in our relationship are also conscious of the love that will forever remain between us. The history between us is far too much for us to walk away. To take five years of memories and experiences with a person you’ve grown with so much that they have become an attachment to your life, to you as a person is an unimaginable pain that we would both rather avoid.

It is also scary, Jungkook is the one thing I remember having through everything, he is essentially a part of me. The thought of becoming one person again is something I never pictured having to do again. In all of my plans for myself, and for the future he is right there beside me. I have become accustomed to considering things for two people I couldn’t imagine just worrying about me, one person.

But as I consider what is right for the two of us all I can think of is that maybe we were better off as two separate people.

you don’t tell me but you want me to know

you think that you only gave the words you threw at me

because you’re too used to me

As the day comes to a close I hear the door open and footsteps follow. The sound I used to anticipate now makes me tense. Nevertheless, once the owner of those steps and so much more turns the corner, my lips can’t help but leap into a smile that’s both relieved and nervous.

Jungkook takes off his shoes and takes a seat beside me, with yet a space once again between us.

“Hey,” he breathes out as he settles into the couch.

I slightly hesitate, “Hey”

We sit in silence but hear everything that wants to be said. An invisible weight piling up on our shoulders, an awkwardness that has become usual between us. So I finally broke it and said it. The moment we never believed would come or tried to avoid finally came.

“L-look Jungkook," I take a deep breath and continue, "we both know what has happened between us-“

“Ye-Wait, what?” he interrupts, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, it's time we finally faced it, we’ve run our course. I supposed our time together was only supposed to be this long.”

“What are you talking about?-“

This time it is me who interrupts.

“It's just hard for me to let go of you, you just mean so much to me but I can’t control how you feel.”

“Huh? How do I feel? What do you mean? What are you even talking about right now?" he rushes out.

“It's okay you don’t have to keep silent like you’re keeping some secret from me, I know. You’ve lost feelings for me”

“No, you’re not listening to me-“

“Kookie, it's okay I’m a big girl I’ve broken up with a guy before.”

“Break up?", his voice panicked, "Woah just listen to me for one second, will you? Holy shit!”

Once again we sit in silence except this time I can’t hear the silent words waiting to be said.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you know but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about not even close.”

“I-I thought-“ I stutter out eyes widened.

“Yeah exactly, you thought. Or is that what you want? Do you want to break up?” he asks staring me directly in my eyes, his voice much softer with apprehension.

“I want to make things easier for you,” I reply in a whisper head lowered as I fiddle with my hands in my lap.

He gives me a look, a look as if I have just said something impossible to comprehend. We were both unaware of what had been happening between us for months. It's like he has become so used to the act we put on to ignore our downfall that he forgot it was an act.

“Easier? " he scoffs a laugh with zero humour, "Is breaking up something easy for you?” he argues back.

The fact that he was going to sit there and continue to play this game even after I called it out sparked an emotion inside of me and the one that decided to come out was anger.

“Oh, come on Jungkook! We both know you checked out on us a long time ago.”

His eyes widen and then he also snaps.

“Me? I checked out, are you being fucking serious right now? I know I have pulled away a bit but you didn’t give me any sign to do otherwise!”

“Are you seriously turning this on me right now?” I snapped back with a newfound boldness to defend myself instead of my initial plan to make this an easy conversation for him. For us.

“Well, I’m not going to blame myself, even though that’s what you’re trying to do. Just because you know me, you think that means you know all my inner fucking feelings. When it's clear you don’t know mine or your own!” He says in a stern and loud tone that I have heard him use in the past…. just never to me.

indifferent and painful words

left deep scars on that day

words that made me realize

that i’m still a fool

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy for me to read your feelings if it wasn’t so blatantly obvious on your face and the way you act differently around me now!”

“And you think I started acting the way I did simply because I suddenly just lost all my feelings for you? You can’t be that clueless!”

The words being thrown between us were indifferent and painful which had already left their mark on both of us and only made us more frustrated. At this point, the distance between us seems bigger than the couch itself and my heart feels heavier than when I thought we were about to break up.

“No, you can’t be this low into making this seem like it’s all on me! And not knowing my feelings how does that even make sense?” I blurt out.

“Seriously, I know when we first started having problems we both started acting slightly different towards each other but it was never this bad…” voice much calmer and less tense than it was a few seconds ago as he continued.

“But it was after my birthday, you know after what happened, you just changed how you acted toward me -with me completely.” His tone turned the air serious almost still. I felt it slap me right across my face, run right into my chest knocking the air out of me.

“I-I did?", making my way full circle back to stuttering.

The next words that come out of his mouth make me realize the fool that I am. And at this realization, I could only tear up. Choked up it is my eyes this time that turn apologetic, while his eyes look at the floor before us.

He nods.

“You did. At first, it was just little things like not asking me to pick you up on my way home or not asking for my shirt to wear to bed. But then it turned into so much more.”

I looked down filled with a bit of shame. Until I heard a sound from him I didn’t expect, a chuckle.

“Just like that. You didn’t even look at me anymore. At the table, in the car, you even turn your back to me when we’re in bed. I used to catch you staring at me even when I wasn’t looking at you.” He smiles fondly at the memory and it’s his turn to look down at his hands.

He plays with his bracelet, one I got for him two years ago for his birthday. He shakes his head, ”It’s as if my presence makes you completely uncomfortable now.” his voice cracks.

And it is right then when I do too.

if only i can erase it

if only i can

At that moment I wished I had done the exact thing he told me I always did. Because once I did look up at him what I saw broke me. His eyes filled with tears he is trying to hold back, a few escaping but he is quick to wipe them away. It was the worst thing I could see besides looking at me driving him away. It was me hurting him. If I could erase everything I did to make him think that I didn't love being around him I would, and now I could.

i took you for granted

but just thinking of you not being there

i don’t want to go through that

my world would crumble

Although I may not be able to erase everything I can change everything from here on to prove to him he has the wrong view of what he is to me. He is the furthest thing than just an uncomfortable presence. He is my best friend, my roommate, my chauffeur, my home, my family, and my lover. My everything. Even the thought of him not being in my life…my whole world would fall apart.

am i the one for you

at some point, you were keeping me in check

i said you changed a lot but i changed the most

the one for me, i didn’t know

but that promise keeps suffocating us

time keeps lingering but our time keeps getting destroyed

The tears running down his face make me think he feels the same, that he doesn’t want us to end like this. It assures me of us, that he is the one for me and I am the one for him.

“I’m sorry,” he looks at me and for the first time in a while we both look into each other’s eyes with hopefulness, “I said you changed a lot, but I was the one who changed the most. And I kept acting that way because I had made myself think that was what you wanted. I didn’t want to let you go so I thought by doing that I would hold onto you longer but that very thing is what suffocated us. It's what wrecked our relationship and sent it down even further. We had so much time to fix it but it just kept getting destroyed.” I say with two streams running one under each eye.

He finally speaks after what to me feels like a whole lifetime.

“It's okay, I mean, it's both our faults though,” he sniffs, “We should have had this conversation a long time ago.” He has gone back to fiddling with his bracelet this time him being the one to break eye contact.

He laughs, again catching me off guard with the unexpected reaction.

“It’s funny, the one thing we did the most even when we didn’t need to or weren’t even supposed to do, is what we failed to do when we needed to the most…talk.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well at the irony.

“I guess we took all those times we told each other to shut up when watching movies to heart.” I chuckle out and he laughs at my response.

that smile came to me, more brightly

the cold hands became more warm

two lonely souls met

not lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely

i’ll look into you again, i’ll place your breathing in my ears

even if everything but us changes

His smile seemed brighter now more than ever. At that moment the room seemed to be glowing.

I reached out and grabbed his hands,

“I love you, I have always and will always. I don’t want to give us up, I never have. We’ve been together for too long to go back to being lonely and I’d be an idiot to pick loneliness over you.”

I looked at him the whole time watching his expression with every word. I look through the tears in my eyes at him and when I feel him squeeze my hands in his the tears spill over all over again.

“You are the only girl who has had my heart for years. I’ve never debated giving it to anyone else. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll get us back to the good place where we were before. Even if something has to change I don’t care as long as we are the only thing that doesn’t.”

His words were exactly what I wanted and needed to hear, enabling my tears to keep falling down my face but now out of pure happiness, the pure bliss of us finally back to one another. We were finally back to being us.

I pull him towards me by the nape of his neck, foreheads resting against each other. With our lips brushing,

“I love you” I whisper to him.

He lovingly smiles back.

“I have always loved you too.”

And those were the only words I ever needed to hear from him.

i hope you’ll tell me first

don’t cry no more

if your heart can see me

don’t cry no more

He pulls me onto his lap, legs dangling over his. I bury my head in his chest, my arms wrapping around his strong torso. His arms pull me into a tight embrace, one that signifies neither of us is about to go anywhere.

“Now stop crying, baby.” He teases me, the only evidence of his tears is the red in his eyes.

“I can’t they won’t stop now.” I giggle out past my sobs.

“It’s okay now, we know our feelings are on the same page.”

i’ll go to you first

at the end of a different road

i’ll wipe your cheeks

that are wet with tears

and ask you

“Now we just need to figure out where to start where do we go from here,” he continues as he holds my face again as he did hours ago but now the gesture felt completely different as he used his thumbs to wipe my cheeks that were wet with tears, I look into those dreamy coffee coloured eyes of his as I listen to the next words that came out of his bitter coffee flavoured lips that I can already taste,

“Tell me what to do”

[xxotothedeathx]

Introducing...

Royal Life - ROYAL!CHRIS STURNIOLO X ROYAL!READER

PART 1

warnings: smut, enemies to lovers, size kink, arranged marriage, unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap), daddy issues, angst, petnames (babh, princess, slut, my girl, ect), use of y/n, homophobia (NOT FROM READER), cussing, oral (f recieving), no aftercare, taken virginity, degrading, NOT PROOF READ,

details: ROYAL!READER will be using SHE/HER!! in which y/ns father has arranged her to marry chris, the prince of the rival kingdom. little does he know his daughter has met him before.

a/n: hi guys! hope you enjoy this one, i absolutely LOVED writing it. i am a BIG chris girl, so i love writing for him! lmk what other scenarios i should write!!

"Mom, you can't let him do this!"

You shout, turning to your mom with an angered look.

"Honey, its no lady like to yell."

Is her only response. You stare at her dumbfounded.

"Your mother has no say in this"

Your father snarls, stepping in between you and your mother.

"The king of Halker has two other sons, why does it have to be Chris!?"

"Because, Matt is married."

"What about Nick?"

"He has been exiled from the kingdom. He is no longer a prince."

Your face drops at your fathers words. Flashback of the kind soul running through your head. Times you two hid from the war together, or snuck to the river seperating your kingdoms to talk to each other. What could such a sweet man do to be exiled?

"Why...?"

Your voice breaks unwillingly as you speak.

"He was caught having intercourse...with a man. Disgusting. If he were not exiled, I would've forbid you from seeing him anyway."

Anger bubbles in your throat at your fathers word, tears swell in your eyes. You lower your gaze to the ground, your head following.

"You must despise love."

You mumble, but your father catches on.

"What do you speak of? Love is the most beautiful thing in the world."

"Then why must you tear it from other people!?"

You snap your head back up as you speak, gritting your teeth and yelling.

"What are you talking about!?"

Your father screams, his fists tightening into a ball.

"Your forcing me to marry a man I do not wish to! And you find someone disgusting for loving the same gender? How is it disgusting, it is just love!"

Your father slaps you hard, causing you to gasp as your hand flies to your quickly reddening cheek.

Tears finally fall from your eyes and onto your face, like a waterfall breaking past a beaver dam at last.

"You will not speak to me like that! You will marry Chris Sturniolo tomorrow, end of the discussion. I do not understand why you are upset. You've never even met the man!"

Your father sighs, turning and walking towards your mother. You can only stare at him in disbelief as memories flood your mind.

~beginning of flashback~

You let out a sob as you fall onto the dirty forest floor. Snapping your head back to see if you lost him.

You hadnt.

He was standing over you, a rock in hand.

"Please... Chris..."

You plead, but he just scoffed.

"You fucking slut."

He snarled, throwing the rock at your face. You lifted your arm up, protecting your face. The rock hit your arm hard, bruising and gashing it open.

He stared and watched you bleed before walking away and leaving you there.

Your father never knew about this because one of your maids had cleaned you up, and you paid her to keep her mouth shut.

~end of flashback~

You wipe your eyes before speaking.

"I hate you!"

The words leave your mouth in a scream, and before your father turns to hit you again, you run to your room.

You rush into your room, falling into your personal maids arms, sobbing.

She comforts you, helps you change into your nighttime robes, and tucks you into bed.

You lay there, thinking about how pathetic this is. A 20 year old princess getting tucked in by her maid.

You sigh as the maid walks out, and you slowly fall asleep.

———

You wake up to someone poking your cheek, assuming it was the maid you swat their hand away.

"Leave me alone.."

You groan, rolling around.

"Get up."

Your eyes shoot open as you hear the familar voice, and you quicky sit up, wrapping the blanket around you to cover yourself. You look at him. Chris.

"Why are you here?"

You speak, tensing up.

"We're getting married today, what do you mean?"

He scoffs, sitting down on the bed edge next to you. On instinct, you scoot away slightly, squezzing the blanket to cover more.

He notices and rolls his eyes.

"Are you still shaken up by that time in the forest? That was 2 years ago."

He mocks you, but you don't respond and just stare at him. Eventually, he sighs and stands up.

"Your father said to dress in a white gown and meet us downstairs. The preacher is here and waiting."

He walks out, and you can feel tears. You really dont wanna get married.

~time skip~

You step into Chris's. Well, now yours and his. It's quite large, bigger than yours at your home.

You look around, sitting on the edge of bed. Your night gown in hand.

Your personal maid is dropping all your stuff by tomorrow. You look at chris, who is looking through his wardrobe.

"Chris, I uh, I need to change."

"Then change. We're married, it doesn't matter."

You nod, standing up and placing your night gown on the bed as you quickly take off your dress.

As you're laying your dress on the bed, you reach for your night gown. But before you can grab it, you feel two hands on your waist.

You quickly stand up straight, tensing skightly. You feel a head nuzzle into the crook of your neck, and Chris's hair tickles as it falls against you.

"You smell good..."

He mumbles against your neck. You feel a small, open mouthed, kiss on your neck. The sensation makes you gasp softly.

"Mm, my girl is so pretty."

He speaks as if you've been together for years, and you feel his hips grinding into yours, his buldge rubbing against your most intimate area.

You squeeze your lips together, trying to surpress your moans. When he bites your neck, your head falls back against his shoulder as a quiet whimper falls from your mouth

"Lay down for me, baby..."

He speaks, lifting his head and taking his hands off your waist. You do as he says, climbing into bed and laying on your back. Your movements cause the gown and dress to fall off the bed.

He follows shortly after you, hovering above your body. He stares into your eyes, almost as if he's trying to read your mind.

Then, he starts moving down, kissing your chest. At the feeling of his lips on your skin, you let out a breath that you didn't realize you were holding.

His hand sneaks under you, unclasping your bra. He gently kisses each breast, licking your nipples before kissing a trail down your body.

You gasps as he kisses the most intimate place on you through your panties. This causes him to smirk.

"Aw, princess, never done this before, hm?"

You shake your head, staring down at him as he drags your panties down with his teeth.

He crawls back up to your pussy, licking it once. You throw your head back and whimper and the new feeling.

He smirks at this, massaging your clit with his thumb while his tongue teases your folds.

You let out a loud yelp as you feel his tongue enter into your folds, swirlling around the inside of your pussy.

He curls his tongue up, hitting a certain spot that sends a sensatiom you've never felt throughout your body. Your head throws itself back as your hips involuntarily buck up into Chris's face.

His thumb presses down on your clit as his tongue swirls around. You can feel yourself becoming close.

"Chris, I...I think im gonna-"

You cut yourself off with a load moan, almost a scream as you feel yourself release all over Chris's face.

He pulls away, licking up any mess before wiping his face off with his shirt.

He quickly discards his own clothes, leaving you staring at his hardened cock. It's much bigger than you thought.

"Big, right?"

You look back up to Chris, who is staring at you.

Without leaving his gaze, you prop yourself up on your elbows and nod slowly. He slowly lays down on top of you, supporting himself with his own elbows.

"You can take it anyway, cant you?"

His cock brushes against your pussy, cause your elbows to give in and a moan to eacape your lips.

Now, laying flat on your back, you wrap your arms around Chris's neck and pull him into a kiss.

He kisses you back aggressively while simultaneously lining himself up with your entrance.

He pulls away momentarily,

"Ready?"

You nod eagerly.

"Use your words, princess."

"Yes."

And with that, you can feel him entering you. You let out a yelp from the initial pain. He kisses you again, slowly pushing in.

When he finally bottoms out, he lays still for a minute, still kissing you. He pulls away, looking at you.

"Tell me when it doesn't hurt anymore."

You squeeze your eyes shut, adjusting to his size.

"...it doesn't hurt anymore.."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Chris is thrusting in and out of you. You throw your head back, loud whines and moans leaving your mouth.

Chris groans, but it sounds almost like a whimper. He leans down, attacking your neck with kisses and bites.

You feel him speed up, and words leave your mouth before you even think.

"Fuck, Chris...your so big.."

You can feel his cock twitch inside you, and his thrusts speed up.

"Hell yeah I am, and your gonna take it like the slut you are."

You thought you would be hurt by his words, but for some reason it made your back arch into him and your nails dig into his skin.

Chris obviously noticed.

"You like that? Like it when I call you a slut while my big cock slams into you? Hmm?"

His words mixed with the sensation of his cock hitting the perfect spot, made your eyes roll back as you let out a loud whine.

"Fuck, Y/N Im gonna cum. Cum with me, okay?"

You nod eagerly at his words, already feeling yourself on the edge.

His thrusts become sloppy and fast, which causes your nails to dig even further into his skin.

"Come one, princess. Be a good slut and cum all over this big cock."

His words send you over the edge, and you feel yourself release all over him.

Soon after, you feel strings of warmth shoot into your pussy. He thrusts a couple times after he's done before pulling out.

He sits on his knees, looking down at you. You open your eyes to see cold, emotionless ones staring right back at you.

"Still the same slut you've always been."

He scoffs before getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

You sigh. You knew it was too good to be true.

You wrap yourself up in the blankets, closing your eyes.

A single tear rolls down your face as you wonder if he meant anything he said. You eventually fall asleep before he comes back.

is this good? do yall like it? cant wait to write pt.2!!

[planetkiimchi-rbs]

i wish i didn't have to go to school today so i could curl up in my room and read all your fics like a christmas fic binge :(( but !! i'm so glad that it's FINALLY HERE (i've been waiting for this since june you don't even know)

full fic analysis under cut bc i rambled again :( but i finished reading this and i just. i love it so much??? the idea was so good and it was so well executed i can't imagine a better writer to write minghao this specific way. <33

For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.

hell-O what happened to good morning ?? y/n really came into this fic like an ethereal being

"Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."

this sentence set the stage for such a beautiful analogy of people being like flowers... also minghao's SO insightful ugh 😩😩

You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now.

aww that's so cute!! love how y/n slowly gets more comfortable w hao ☹️☹️

the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.

people who stick their tongue out the side of their mouth when they concentrate >>> it's such a lovable trait

And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.

no why is this the PERFECT fic for hao and his patient, transcending calm???? 

The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with.

THIS LINE !!

"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."

i love how he doesn't deny comparing people to flowers in general cuz somehow that is exactly what minghao is? like a guy who sometimes is a little on the sidelines simply because he enjoys perceiving other people a bit too much

The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders

NOO THIS SENTENCE 😭😭 absolute poetry how do people even come up with these ??

I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."

this is an amazing choice honestly the lotus is soo beautiful & strong (also i like the way lotus roots taste) and it's so minghao!!!

Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"

if someone said this to me i'd be folding on the spot bro like just confess already??

"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."

rania and her lovely writing style of putting unsaid words in italics in between 🤩🤩 i love how distinctive it makes your writing 

Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.

oh GOSH the sorrow? so beautifully portrayed

The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning. "I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."

this fic is my other roman empire (this and moni's "finger trapped (ripped to its seams)")

His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.

this whole paragraph healed me.

Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.

holy shit. this line touched a part of me so raw that i didn't even know existed

caught in bloom, caught on you | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop. PAIRING. florist!xu minghao x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers WARNINGS. hao basically falls in love at first sight HAHA, mild cursing, implied that yn lost someone close to them, a lot of yearning n pining, kissing WORD COUNT. 8.3k

notes: wheeboo is NOT in their short-ish fic era anymore and is in their long-ish fic era rn 😭 anyway,, i didnt have a title for the fic until hao posted his song on his birthday so... I hope u all enjoy?? this might be one of my faves haha

Minghao likes these kinds of days.

Thin, irregular shapes of cotton drift lazily across the endless blue embrace of the skies. The afternoon sun carries warmth in its hands that he could feel right through the glass windows of his flower shop. It's almost as if the season of summer itself is breathing through his shop, softly encouraging his little garden to reach for the light.

Minghao runs his slender fingers through the cool edges of a hydrangea, its soft petals a deep shade of prismarine.

Ever since he was younger, his mother had told him that flowers weren't just things to be cared for. They were companions, your friends if you'd let them be, each blooming with all different kinds of personalities.

He likes how the flowers didn't ask for much; they simply needed patience and care, and in return, they gave him a sense of peace that he couldn't find anywhere else.

The sudden chime of the bell pulls him from his thoughts. He straightens up, wiping his hands on the apron tied loosely around his waist, and glances toward the door.

The figure the walks through the door is unfamiliar, yet it's easy to catch the way the sunlight highlights the edges of your silhouette, almost like a halo as you step inside the shop. For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.

Your gaze circles around the shop, taking in the rows of flowers with a soft curiosity. There's some sort of quiet hesitation in your movements when you take a few more tentative steps inside, as if you're trying to find the right place to be in this space, just as much as you're trying to find the right flower.

Minghao finds himself clearing his throat, drawing a polite smile across his lips and catching your attention right away.

"Good afternoon," he greets calmly. "Can I help you with something today?"

You glance up at him, a slight surprise in your eyes before they soften.

"Hi, um... Yeah, I was actually looking to see if I could buy some flowers. The shop I went to before closed down, so I've been searching for a new place. It was a bit of a drive." Then you hesitate briefly, before continuing, "I'm not sure what to look for exactly, but something for a first date would be nice."

Minghao's heart stirs a bit disappointingly at that, though he quickly suppresses the feeling away. After all, it's just flowers, and you're simply here to buy them for someone else.

He nods thoughtfully, giving a soft, understanding look.

"Ah, well. Congratulations first of all on the date," he says calmly, though the nerves itches his fingers. "A first date is always special, isn't it?"

"They are," You reply sheepishly, and the hint of a blush to your cheeks nearly resembles the colour of the roses displayed near the window.

"Is there a specific kind of vibe you're going for?" Minghao asks. "I can help you pick something that feels right."

You pause for a moment, eyes lingering on a beautifully-painted vase. "Hmm, I think... something romantic, but not too traditional, if that makes sense? Not something too cliché, you know, but I also want it to feel special."

Minghao simply hums in response, his mind sifting through the variety of options he could think of. There's this odd sense of responsibility within him to make your choice is beyond perfect.

"Roses are always a classic," he begins. "but they're quite conventional, so..."

He can sense you following closely to him as he walks toward another part of the shop.

"These are tulips," Minghao explains, gesturing to a row of soft, voluminous blooms in shades of pale pink and coral. "They're not commonly picked like roses, but there's a nice charm about it. They're meant to represent long-lasting love."

You take a good look of the flowers, and you're amazed by how bright they appear.

"Wow, they're so beautiful." Then you take a small glance up at Minghao, before back down at the flowers. "You must really take care of these flowers to make them look this vibrant."

"I try my best," he mutters quietly, watching as you continue to take in their beauty. "Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."

Your eyes flicker back up at him, and for a moment, there's a quiet stillness between you, as if the space between you two is holding its breath. Then you let out a warm, somewhat nervous chuckle.

"I think I understand," You say, taking a step closer towards the tulips  and carefully running a finger over its petals. "It's about giving them space to grow, right? Not forcing them to be something they're not."

There's something about the way you speak, something thoughtful, almost as if you also understand the language of patience he's grown so accustomed to.

"Exactly." He smiles faintly. "That's what I like about flowers𑁋they don't rush. They just exist, and somehow, they slowly become what they're meant to be."

You lift your gaze to meet his, and in your eyes, Minghao sees something more than just curiosity. There's a softness there, a sincerity that draws him in. At his sides, he feels his fingers twitch slightly, but he quickly smooths his hands down his apron.

It's strange how a simple conversation about flowers can make him feel so... connected to someone.

"I think these are perfect," You tell him, eyes brightening with confidence.

A wave of satisfaction washes over Minghao, who nods in agreement.

"Would you like me to wrap them up for you?" he asks.

"That would be great, thank you," You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now. The thought makes his heart flutter.

Minghao begins to wrap the delicate stems with some brown wrapping paper, carefully arranging them so they're secure. As he ties a ribbon around the bouquet, he can't help but sneak up a glance at you. You're wandering around the shop with your hands clasped in front of you, looking at the other arrangements on display, and he smiles to himself.

He finishes the bouquet and smooths out any remaining creases with his fingertips. When you make your way back over to him, he offers it to you.

"Do you want to write your name on a gift tag?" Minghao asks, holding up a small card and a pen. He doesn’t know why his heart's beating faster𑁋perhaps it's the subtle hopefulness in his voice that will make your name linger longer, even after you leave.

You glance at the pen in his hand, considering it for a moment before nodding.

"Sure, I'd love to," You tell him with a faint smile, snatching the pen from his grasp, giving it a quick click before writing something down, the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.

When you finish, you hand the card back to him. He takes it from you carefully, inspecting your neat, intricate handwriting. It's simple, yet there's a certain elegance to it it. Minghao reads it under his breath: For someone special, who I hope feels the same - Y/N.

Y/N, he repeats in his mind.

"I'll finish it up for you now," he says, placing the card with the bouquet. He arranges the flowers once more, making sure everything is perfect before handing it to you.

You find yourself fishing into your bag for your wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

Minghao hesitates for a moment, his fingers hovering over the register, but there's something about the way your features soften and how your eyes meet his that makes him pause.

"It's on the house."

You stop your hands, peering back up at him with a surprised look. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course," he assures calmly. "It's the least I can do."

You just blink at him a few times, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

"Thank you," You let out sheepishly as you take the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon slipping through your fingers as you carefully adjust it. There's a split second that passes where you sneak a glance at the nametag on his chest. "I really appreciate it. I'm sure they'll love them."

Something in his chest tightens at that𑁋they'll love them. Minghao tries not to overthink it, tries to ignore the brief twinge of something unsettling in his chest.

But you're smiling, so he smiles back.

"I hope so," he replies gently, and with a polite bow of his head, he adds, "I'm sure they'll appreciate the thought behind it."

As you walk towards the exit, you take a final look around the shop, eyes lingering on the shelves of flowers, before turning back to Minghao.

"I'll be sure to come back," You say brightly, and the way the afternoon sunlight pours down all around you in the doorway makes you appear almost angelic. "Thank you for everything."

"I'll be here," Minghao responds, offering a small, timid wave of his hand. "Take care."

The chime of the bell above the door announces your departure, and a sigh leaves him.

It's just flowers, he tells himself again. Just flowers.

And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.

Minghao finds himself wiping away some spilled soil on the counter, the soft hum of piano music drifting throughout the quiet flower shop. He had just gotten done cleaning up after a busy morning of rearranging a few displays around the shop to tie into the slow seasonal changes that were beginning to take shape outside.

The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with. Chrysanthemums, petunias, dahlias, and marigolds were beginning to make their way into the shop, taking their place next to the peonies and roses that had been so meticulously cared for.

When the last bits of soil are wiped away, Minghao steps back to admire the beauty of the shop around him, he takes in a deep inhale, letting in the earthy scent of the fresh blooms fill his lungs.

After storing away a few extra vases in the backroom, the chime of the door hits his ears, and Minghao finds himself straightening back up to greet whoever had come inside.

When looks up, however, he freezes for a moment. He catches you standing in the doorway, and Minghao has to blink a few times to make sure his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him.

"Hi, again," You're the first to greet this time, and then that grin spreads across your face once again, one that seems all-too familiar.

Minghao leans against the counter. "Back so soon?"

"I was just in the area, couldn't help myself, you know..." You drawl with a playful shrug. "I actually just officially moved into the city just last week, hopefully to be closer for this new job and well... The drive here isn't as long as before."

Minghao smiles softly. It's an unexpected but pleasant surprise for you to admit all that to him, and for some reason, it makes him feel a little lighter.

"That's great," he responds, pushing himself off the counter as he straightens up. "I imagine that must be a relief. How do you like it so far?"

You step further into the shop, your eyes eagerly scanning the new arrangements he's set up.

"It's been great, actually," You say with a relieved look. "Life has been... good, honestly. I think the city suits me. It's different, but in a positive way, and I'm already surrounded by a lot of nice people."

This warm and genuine feeling tugs at Minghao's lips as he listens to you, adjusting the stems of a vase full of a plethora of zinnias.

"I'm assuming that date from before went well then?"

His words makes the smile on your face flicker, and the change is subtle but noticeable enough for Minghao to catch it, even when he's not directly looking at you. You shift your weight between your two feet, and the way you glance around the shop seems almost like you're trying to distract yourself from something.

"The date didn't go well at all, actually."

Minghao's fingertips pause on the cold surface of the vase, brows furrowing in a bit of surprise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologises gently, regretting for the sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable."

You let out a small, rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no, it's okay. Really."

The air seems to thicken a little. You could only stand and watch for a few long moments as Minghao moves gracefully around, tending to all the flowers with his usual care.

After a long pause, you finally break the silence.

"It was good at first, I think, then it just became... awkward. Like really awkward. I thought I had everything planned out𑁋good place, nice flowers, all that jazz... but I guess it just didn't click. I think we both kind of felt it." You feel your shoulders deflate in a pit of defeat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you run a hand through your hair. "I don't know why I just rambled all that. Sorry about that."

Minghao doesn't say anything at first, simply giving you some space, but he feels his heart tighten in his chest. He casts his eyes on you, also unsure why you're telling him this or why it feels important to him, but he knows it's a moment of vulnerability𑁋a rare one𑁋and he wants to handle it with care.

"No need to say sorry," he reaffirms, tone soothing. "Sometimes things don't go as expected, and that's okay. It doesn't mean it wasn't meaningful."

You glance towards him, catching the sincerity dripping down from his words. It catches you by surprise at how almost... comfortable it feels to be open right now, with him. The atmosphere here doesn't demand anything of you.

"As people, we try so hard to make things go right that we forget to just... let them unfold naturally," he says softly, as if thinking aloud. "I think sometimes things don't work out because we're not ready for them yet, or maybe they're not the right kind of flower at the right time. You can spend so much time trying to arrange them, placing them in the perfect spot, hoping they'll just fit… but sometimes they don't. And that's okay."

You can't help but quirk a playful lip at that, but you can't resist the way his words appear to tug right at your heartstrings. "Are you comparing me to a flower?"

"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."

The thought about being a flower𑁋in another life, perhaps𑁋is a bit silly. But you also wonder about other things too𑁋if you're being treated with the same care and attention that Minghao gives to his flowers, or if you're wilting like one that hasn't found the right light yet. And as you gaze around the shop, taking in the beauty of the blooms around you, you find yourself smiling.

"I think I'd like to try and take care of a flower," You announce, determination weaving around your voice and words. "I'm not sure if I'd be good at it, but I'd like to try."

Minghao crosses his arms together, letting out a thoughtful hum while studying you for a few seconds. "I think you'd do well."

For some reason, those few words were enough to send heat crawling up your body and into your face.

"Thank you," You breathe out sheepishly, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. "Can you give me a few recommendations?"

Minghao just nods. "Sure."

From there, he leads you toward a small display near the front of the shop where a few different pots and seedlings are carefully arranged. He describes a few of them to you. You're immediately drawn to the passion dripping from his tone, and the way he appears to light up when he speaks.

"These might be a good start," he suggests, gesturing to a small seedling. "Marigolds are pretty low maintenance. They need light, of course, but they're easy to grow and care for."

You take a moment to study over the baby plant with sweet curiosity.

"I think I'll start with these, then," You say, glancing back at Minghao. "Something easy."

Minghao's eyes don't stray away from how you admire the tiny plant, how you cradle the pot in your hands to take a closer look at it as if you're already imagining yourself taking care of it.

"Taking care of them can be a good reminder to take care of yourself too," he points out. "They need patience, consistency… and a little bit of trust, just like people do."

You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips once more, feeling something warm bloom in your chest. His words settle into you in a way that's hard to describe, but they feel right𑁋like they're exactly what you need to hear.

"That's true," You reply, the weight of the sentiment settling comfortably within you. "I guess I could use a reminder like that."

"Shall I wrap it up for you?" he offers.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

After mulling over some options, he chooses the perfect wrapping paper and adds a small note about caring for marigolds. You watch him, mesmerised by the ease in his movements, the care he pours into something so simple. For a moment, you forget about all the bustling noise outside the shop, and all that exists is Minghao and the flowers, his flowers.

As Minghao ties the final knot around the marigold pot, he hands it to you, and his fingertips briefly brush against yours.

"Thank you," You tell him softly. "For everything, really. It's very calming in here."

Minghao's smile widens, almost like he's heard those same words before, and perhaps he has; maybe many people find themselves drawn to his calm presence and the haven he's created in this little shop.

There's a strange warmth that spreads throughout your chest as you cradle the small plant in your hands. "I'll be sure to take good care of it."

A few moments of comfortable silence pass as you both stand there, your eyes drifting around the shop to take in the palette of autumn that colours the space. Yet it's almost instinctive in the way your gaze finds Minghao.

"I hope you won't mind me coming back, you know... to make sure I'm doing a good job with this little one." You gesture to the plant in your hands, a playful tone to your words.

Minghao chuckles, a sound as gentle as the petals surrounding him. "Of course. I'll be here."

"Do you mind if I take another look around with the place? It looks great, by the way."

"Take all the time you need."

And for the first time in a long while, Minghao felt like he wasn't just waiting for the next flower to bloom.

He was blooming, too.

"Do you have a favourite flower?"

The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders while he waters a cluster of orchids in the back corner of the shop. You're hovering near him, aimlessly trudging your fingertips over, but instead lets the question settle in between the quiet moments.

"I imagine it's hard to pick as a florist, right?" You let out a meek laugh. "It's kind of like asking a painter to pick their favourite colour."

The corners of Minghao's lips curl up slightly, his eyes fixed on the glistening leaves under the faint droplets of water. You can tell he's contemplating the question from the quiet hums leaving his mouth, and for some reason, you find comfort in his patience.

"Not exactly," he says after a pause, his voice steady, thoughtful. "A painter might have a favourite colour, but they don't use it all the time. It's about balance. Knowing when to bring it forward and when to hold it back."

"Ah, so you do have a favourite flower," You tease lightly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. "You just don't want to admit it."

The brief touch seems to linger in the air, a soft warmth that you both let pass without acknowledging. Minghao gently sets the watering can down and looks at you for a moment, his gaze a little deeper than before.

"In China, we have a lot of flowers that hold meaning," Minghao continues. "It's hard to pick one specifically, but... I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."

You tilt your head as you take in his words. You already knew yourself that you didn't know much about flowers, but there's a certain curiosity that washes over you from how Minghao speaks so fondly about them. Even something as simple as a flower has layers of meaning for him.

"That's really beautiful, I..." You trail off, trying to find the right words. "I've always looked at things really surface-level, you know, like I've always found daisies beautiful because they're so simple and bright, but I never really thought much about their deeper meanings. It's kind of like... I never thought about why I liked them. It's just easy to see them and appreciate them, I guess."

Minghao blinks at you, before lowering his gaze down to the floor. "Daisies suit you."

You turn to him, dazed. "Really?"

Minghao takes a contemplative pause. "Well, they're not only... beautiful to look at, but they brighten up any space they're in."

You feel your feet seep into the floor, sinking deeper as your cheeks warm, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing next to him. And it's the way he acts like he didn't fucking say anything out of the ordinary almost makes you lose it.

"Are you flirting with me right now?"

However, Minghao doesn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, his lips twitch into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then a few seconds later, your phone rings.

Minghao just offers you a little wave of his soil-painted hand. "Have fun at work, Y/N."

"Minghao! Can you teach me how to wrap these flowers?"

Minghao casts his attention up from displaying a new set of hyacinths, catching you behind the counter with a bouquet in your hands, along with a small old lady on the other side with a cheerful grin.

There's a subtle tug at the corners of his mouth when he hears you holler for him again, and he brushes his hands against his apron, before marching his way toward you. He steps up to you, taking the flowers from your hand while you beam happily towards the old lady.

"What's the occasion for the flowers, ma'am?" You ask curiously. Th elderly woman lets out a soft laugh, resting her wrinkled hands on the counter.

"It's for my grandson! He's graduating from high school today. Time flies by, doesn't it?"

"Wow, that's such a milestone! Congratulations to him," You exclaim enthusiastically, softly clapping your hands together as Minghao deftly arranges the flowers within the wrapping paper, before sliding it over to you.

He leans in a bit more, almost too close you feel the way his arm brushes against yours and the way his breath fans against your skin.

"Fold the edges like this," Minghao instructs softly, his hands hovering right over yours. "Make sure the paper covers the stems. Too much pressure could break them; too loose could make them fall apart."

You watch as his hands follow yours while you nervously, yet carefully trace the frail edge of the paper, showing you how to make each fold with a care that's almost tender. His close proximity sends strange flutters to your stomach, but you do your best to ignore it.

"Okay, like this?" You question, pulling the paper slightly tighter around the bouquet.

Minghao hums approvingly, letting you hold the flowers while he circles a ribbon around it with ease. His hands brush against yours as he neatly ties it, and the two of you pull back to watch how it delicately falls over the bouquet.

The old lady glances between the two of you with a knowing smile.

"The two of you make such a cute couple! Do you run the shop together?"

You feel your face fire up at that, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Then you instinctively glance over at Minghao, who surprisingly doesn't seem as flustered as you are.

"Oh, um, we're not𑁋"

"They like to help out here once in a while," Minghao adds in smoothly, though you aren't sure if that entirely helps or not. However you know what he's saying is true, because whenever your break for work comes or on your free time, you find yourself naturally walking towards the flower shop to help out at times.

The lady just beams up even more, scooping up the bouquet in her grasp. "Well, it's nice to see young faces working together! You two sure do have a lot of chemistry."

You offer a wave of your hand. "I hope your grandson enjoys the flowers. Congratulations to him once again!"

With that, the old woman offers a small wink before turning to head out of the shop. "Thank you, dear! Take care, both of you." Her delighted steps echo off the walls as she exits the shop.

The shop grows quiet again. You let out a sigh, cracking your knuckles as you turn to Minghao, who was already wiping over the surface of the counter, making quick work of putting things back in order, and for some reason, it still doesn't wipe away the pit of awkwardness you're feeling. You wonder if he feels the same too.

"So," Minghao starts, still continuing to clean without batting a glance at you. "You're taking over my shop, it seems."

You let out a haughty scoff. "I just wanted to try wrapping some flowers for someone. Don't let it get to your head."

Minghao only chuckles lightly, though he keeps his focus on the counter, yet you could only focus on him. You can't help but admire the way his hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, the slight endearing tilt of his head as he works, and how his movements are so meticulously unique to only him. There's a certain aura he exudes that makes you feel strangely at peace, a magic that only seems to reside within the walls of the shop.

"Why didn't you say no?" You suddenly ask, the question slipping out before you could shut your mouth.

Minghao pauses mid-swipe, looking back up at you. "Say no to what?"

"To, uh... the lady back there," You stammer, feeling the heat creep back at your neck. "About us, you know... being a couple."

Minghao remains silent as he tosses the dirty wipe away. For a moment, he seems to be contemplating something𑁋whether the question, the idea, or something more.

Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"

Your mind goes completely blank at his question. Does it bother you? The simple truth is that you didn't expect him to answer so casually. You were expecting him to probably correct her humbly, in all honesty. After all, it was just a passing comment from a lady who didn't mean any harm behind it.

But... does it bother you?

"No, it... it doesn't bother me. Really," You respond after a pause, voice coming out a bit forced. Your heart is beating super fast right now. "I guess I just didn't expect you to go along with it since we're not𑁋"

"𑁋not a couple," Minghao finishes for you. "I know."

You feel like you're melting into a pile of goo, your thoughts scattering like ants running out of their pile.

"I'm sorry, I'm overthinking," You mumble out, trying to brush everything off with an airy laugh.

Minghao shakes his head. "I should be sorry. I made you uncomfortable."

"You-You didn't, trust me!" You wave your hands dismissively, albeit a bit dramatic. "I was just caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond."

This seems to relax Minghao's shoulders a bit, but not entirely.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is as light as a  wisp getting caught in the wind. "But you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, right?"

You give him an easy nod, maybe even confident. "I would. I promise. And you'd... tell me too?"

Minghao meets your eyes with a steady gaze, his expression soft but thoughtful. For a moment, there's a subtle shift in the air, and you can feel the weight of his words before he speaks again.

"Yeah," he answers firmly, sincerely. "I would."

When you open your mouth to speak again, your phone dings in your pocket. You squint your eyes to read over the message in your notifications, before closing up your phone.

"My meeting got cancelled." Then you blink up towards Minghao, as if trying to convey an unspoken question to him.

As if the answer wasn't already obvious, Minghao gives you a small, almost teasing smile.

"I don't mind the company," he tells you, then quirks up a brow. "Unless you do."

"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."

Flowers bloom when the time is right. And you don't mind waiting for it.

When a flower dies, there's a certain routine that comes after it. Trim away the wilted petals, dispose of the stems, recycle them as compost, and plant the next set of blooms.

Minghao hates seeing flowers die.

The sound of crumbling petals tie a knot in his chest, the stillness that follows afterwards is almost deafening. But he knows it's an inevitable part of life. Every flower has its chance to bloom and thrive, and eventually, it will fade.

The flowers don't belong to him, after all𑁋they are simply passing through his care briefly before going to someone else or withering away, like everything else in life. Minghao knows it's unnecessary to hold onto these flowers so tightly, but after being surrounded by them his entire life, it's merely impossible to let go.

The bell chimes as he's composting a few camellias that had sadly wilted, and he gazes up to find a gust of snow following your footsteps as you step inside. A large, black fluffy coat hugs your body and a scarf is wrapped snugly around your neck. However this time, Minghao doesn't notice any ounce of a smile to your face.

He sets the compost bin down and wipes his hands on his apron.

"Y/N?"

There's a very subtle twitch to your expression when he calls out your name.

"Hey," You croak out, voice a bit strained. "Um... is it fine if I buy some flowers?"

Minghao feels something in his chest clench at your tone, but he pushes the feeling away with his usual calm composure, masking away any concern simmering on the surface.

"Sure," he replies, focusing on the shadows that plague over your features. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

Your eyes drift away from to look around the flower shop, taking note of the bright, usual blooms that surround you, yet none of them appear are what you're looking for.

"Do you have, um..." You feel like you're already going to regret this. "...anything for a funeral?"

The words float in the air between you both. Minghao's expression falters for just a moment, the calmness that he usually carries slipping as his eyes soften toward you.

"Of course," he says softly. "I have a few options."

With that, he leads you to a particular spot in the shop, where it houses all sorts of flowers with muted colours𑁋white roses and lilies, pale chrysanthemums, and pink and purple orchids all arranged neatly. Minghao watches as you gaze over each flower, but he doesn't speak yet, simply allowing you the moment to breathe.

"These are the traditional flowers for a funeral," he explains finally. "White roses for remembrance, lilies for peace, chrysanthemums for mourning, and orchids for everlasting love."

Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.

It's bit a different when it's you though, and he doesn't exactly know how to explain it.

You plod slowly throughout the display, picking up a stem here and there, but each time, you set it back down as if it didn't feel right. But when you come across the orchids, you linger a little longer on them, tenderly caressing the petals as if you were scared to break them.

"I think I'll choose these ones. The orchids," You murmur, picking up a few stems and showing it to him.

Minghao just nods, taking the ones from your hands and grabbing a few more to finish the rest of the bouquet, moving with careful precision.

"I'll handle the rest, don't worry," he assures you as he gracefully works to arrange the orchids.

None of you choose to say anything more, only letting the diffident silence stretch. For some reason, the shop feels a little more cooler, the air heavier than usual. The only sound is the rustling of Minghao's hands moving carefully over the flowers, the quiet snap of a stem as he trims it with his shears. Outside, the snow continues to fall.

Minghao doesn't press for any details, yet even in the quiet, you have a feeling that he knows. Maybe that's why he's just letting his hands speak for him.

"Here you go." He offers you a neat bouquet of pale lavender orchids.

You step up to him to retrieve it from his grasp, bringing it close to your chest. "Thank you."

Minghao knows he shouldn't let his feelings get in the way, but as he takes note of the slight glassiness to your eyes and small tremble of your hands holding the bouquet, he isn't sure how much longer he can hold it in. He feels guilty when he lets his eyes drift down to your lips for a second, before averting it back up quickly.

The smile you give him is nothing short of fragile, faint, but it's there. And then, with a sudden leap, you find yourself leaning into Minghao's embrace without thinking, wrapping your arms around his body as if he was the only thing in the world that was preventing you from falling down. And in a way, he is.

His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.

You don't cry𑁋not entirely. A single tear slips past your lashes, landing silently against his shoulder. He feels it, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and just lets you... be.

"I'm sorry," You mumble into his shoulder. "I didn't mean to𑁋"

"Don't be," Minghao interrupts softly. "It's okay."

You pull away for a moment to look up at him. He's still holding you. His hands have fallen down to your sides, resting there as if he's held you like this before. The way you're looking at him has Minghao nearly forgetting how to breathe; it nearly urges to him to lean down and close the distance between the two of you.

His gaze lingers on your lips, and for a split second, Minghao almost allows himself to follow the instinct to lean in.

But then he stops himself.

He's not sure what this is, what the right thing to do is. His thoughts are tangled mess of roots𑁋he's always been careful with holding himself back, with promising to wait, yet something about the way you look at him makes it feel like the only right thing to do is to give in.

But he can't. Not yet. Not when you're so fragile and baring yourself raw to him.

Yet he sees the way your eyes flutter at him, the way a crease of question forms in between your brows as if you're also unsure of what this moment is, but there's a longing there too. It's almost pleading. And you lean in a little more towards him.

"Y/N," he breathes out your name, and it's the first time you ever heard his voice shake like that. "We... We shouldn't."

You don't say anything at first, your eyes searching his face like you're trying to read something. You open your mouth, close it, and then, with a slight exhale, you step back, only a little, but enough to let the cool air seep in between you.

"I'm sorry, I..." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, letting out a sniffle. "Fuck, I'm sorry..."

Minghao feels his chest tighten. "It's okay𑁋"

"I-I just wanted to feel something for a moment, you know? Everything is such a mess right now and the first person I thought of was you, because I like... the way you make me feel. I like it way more than I should. And that... that it's okay if you don't feel that way too."

Minghao's heart stutters at that, and perhaps the world even pauses too. All words that want to leave him become stuck in his throat, because he knows deep down𑁋from as far back as the moment you walked into the flower shop𑁋that he's felt the same way for far too long.

So, he settles with taking one hand from your side and slowly reaching up to trace your warm cheek with his thumb, his touch delicate as if he's afraid he might cause your petals to fall down. He brushes away a lingering tear that had been drying up on your skin and lets his hand stay there.

"You... deserve way more than just comfort in a moment like this," Minghao starts quietly. "But you're grieving right now, and I don't want to take advantage of that. I don't want to just be someone who's here for a moment, because... you mean so much to me more than that."

Your lips form into a tight, thin line, and you flicker your gaze towards the floor, the heaviness in the air still weighing down on your shoulders.

"Minghao..."

"And if I act on what I feel, it wouldn't be fair to you," Minghao continues, voice trembling slightly as he speaks. "I want it to be because you know what you want. And if you ever give me that chance, I promise I'll be here for you. Not just now, not just in this moment, but... for everything. When you're ready; when you're healed; when it feels right, I'll be here𑁋I always have been."

There's a lump in your throat that you swallow down. For a while, you could only simply stand there, feeling as if you're teetering on the edge of something you can't quite reach. But even as you stand in this stillness, there's something in his words that echoes off the walls of your mind𑁋it's understanding, and it's care, and it feels like a promise.

"I... I know. I just... I'm sorry for putting all this on you. I think I need space to... heal and think." Then you look back up at him, wonder tainting your features. "Will you wait for me?"

The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning.

"I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."

The chuckle that leaves you isn't forced; in fact, it's quite relieving. It feels like the start of something, and Minghao feels a flicker of hope at the sound.

You reluctantly separate yourself away from him, cradling the bouquet of orchids to your chest, and let out an exhale you hardly realise you were holding in.

"I'll be okay, you know," You tell him, even if it's a bit of lie, or half the truth. You can't tell which.

Minghao glances down to your hands, as if you're holding a piece of your heart wrapped up within the petals, before back up to your eyes.

"I know," is all he says.

The world doesn't stop for grief, but it's okay to pause for a little while.

Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.

You haven't stepped foot in the flower shop in a while. At least, not as often as you used to come.

The absence is especially daunting, and Minghao can't help but feel it every time the bell chimes and it isn't you that walks through the door. On rare occasion you'd swing by to say hello during your breaks at work and sometimes, a pretty, shy smile from you before you disappear back into the world outside.

It's strange how easily your presence had come to be a part of the rhythm of his days. He used to wonder how someone like you would be drawn to the boring stillness of a flower shop. But now the place feels more emptier than before you came into his life, the petals around him somehow less vibrant, the air colder, even when the sun streams through the windows.

He tries not to dwell on it, but he can't help the nagging feeling that maybe you've drifted away, maybe things have changed. Maybe he was just a moment for you. And now, that moment has passed.

So he simply spends his days in the shop, moving between shelves of blossoms and arranging bouquets, but his thoughts always return to you. To the quiet moments when your voice would fill the space between the flowers, to the way you cared and tended the blooms even when you had no reason to.

It makes him think that if flowers could speak for us, then what might they say about you? Would they say you were someone who saw beauty in the smallest things? Minghao often found himself wishing that flowers could speak just so he can hear what they would say about you.

But flowers don't speak, of course. They just bloom and stretch toward the light, growing in places where they are tended to, and even in those that have been forgotten.

Maybe that's what Minghao was𑁋a forgotten flower of his own waiting to be seen, to be noticed.

Luckily, he was able to distract himself a bit today with a few deliveries for a couple of upcoming weddings and a new arrangement for the store he was preparing to do in the next few days, along with piles of orders for days. But it still wasn't enough.

As he flips the sign on the window to display Closed, he fumbles for his keys to lock the door. However, the sound of the bell rings through the shop, stopping him mid-motion. Minghao lifts a brow up, not expecting for anyone to show up right as he's about to close up.

And when he looks up, he freezes.

"I'm not late, aren't I?"

It's you.

The way your voice comes out all shaky like you're out of breath, yet soft has Minghao feeling as if he's sinking into quicksand. The sight of you standing at the doorway is a dream he never dares to wake up from.

"You're not," Minghao manages to say, somehow. "You're just in time."

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click.

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click. You take in the familiar, fresh scent of all the blooms and greenery around you, and it hits you in the heart just how much you've missed this place.

"I had, uh… a late shift at work," You explain unsurely. "so I thought about stopping by, but I wasn't sure if you'd still be here."

Minghao just shakes his head, watching as you brush your fingertips over some lilies and baby's breaths that were displayed on a small table near the window. Gosh, he'd do anything to flat out say how much he missed you, how much he'd been thinking about you, but he doesn't.

"Have you been busy?" You ask him.

"A little," he responds. "but manageable, I would say."

"Ah… that's good," You mumble, voice trailing off as you start to make your way in his direction, catching eye on a particular bouquet sitting on the counter behind him. "No-show again?"

Minghao lets out a sigh, and he feels you following behind as he walks towards the counter. He picks up the bouquet in his hand, letting his gaze fall over it.

"Mhm," he hums. "But it's alright, really. Happens more often than you think."

You quirk a brow as your eyes roam over the bouquet, and a particular, almost knowing look stretches across your lips.

"That's funny," You huff, taking the bouquet from his grasp. It held a colourful variety of hydrangeas. "It looks a lot like an order I placed a few days ago."

Minghao's heart skips a beat as he watches you carefully examine the bouquet, his breath caught in his throat.

"This… was yours?" he questions in surprise.

"Yeah, I…" You bite your lips sheepishly. "It was sort of an impulsive thing, I guess."

Minghao only continues to watch as you admire the bouquet, caressing over the delicate wrapping paper and the all-too familiar bow that he would tie all of his other arrangements.

"Impulsive, huh?" Minghao teases lightly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Well, you certainly picked a good one."

You look up at him, a small, tentative smile forming on your face. "I guess I just wanted to get something special. For someone."

Minghao feels his heart sink at that, a flutter of hope and uncertainty colliding in his chest. Someone.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat, unsure if it's his place to ask, or if he even wants to hear the answer.

"I see," he says instead, trying to keep his tone relaxed, though there's a hint of sadness to his voice that he silently hopes you don't notice.

You take note of his unreadable expression, over the way his eyes appear downcast and a subtle tension to his posture.

However, this doesn't make you stop from gripping the bouquet tighter in your grasp, and then in the next moment, you're stepping closer and offering it over to him.

"I hope you like them," You state, holding out the bouquet thing as if was the most natural thing in the world.

Minghao glances at the bouquet quizzically, the same one he had just been holding, then back at you. His face shifts between a million different expressions𑁋confusion, surprise, hope, and everything in between𑁋before the tension in his chest eases just slightly as he finally registers what you're doing.

He's a florist, for crying out loud. He's usually the one to be giving flowers to people. Never in his years of practically living in the shop has anyone offered flowers to him. The gesture is practically foreign, yet in this moment, it feels so right.

His fingers graze against yours as he hesitantly takes it from your hands, but you fully let go. Instead, you cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading between you as you gently press your palm against his. His heart is beating in his throat, in his ears, everywhere in his body, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

"I missed you," You declare softly, yet a pinch of urgency behind your words. "I missed you so fucking much."

His chest tightens, and it's as if the weight of everything crushes him in the best possible way. All the time he had spent wondering if you had forgotten about him, if maybe you had moved on, it all melts away in an instant. Because you're here. And you're saying everything he's been craving to hear.

And gosh, does he want to kiss you right now.

This time, Minghao doesn't waste a second. He brings a hand up to cradle the side of your neck as he presses his lips to yours. It's perhaps a bit desperate first, making him swallow down a faint sigh you let out but it quickly settles into something softer, deeper, like two people who've been waiting for this moment for far too long.

He can feel the slight tremble in your breath as your lips move against his, and he pulls back slightly, just to make sure you were still with him.

Minghao lets his thumb lightly caress over your cheek as if trying to memorise the feeling of your skin under his touch, as if he'd been starved for this closeness.

"I missed you too," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. "The flowers did too."

A light, airy chuckle escapes from you. "Oh, did they?"

"Of course," Minghao murmurs, his lips curling upwards against your skin. "They've been waiting for you to come back."

"Well, I better not keep them waiting anymore then, right?" You jest playfully, leaning in back once again.

Minghao doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. "Nope," he says firmly against your mouth. "I think they've waited long enough."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@planetkiimchi @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @gigification @ahuiahoe

@svtficsarchive @lllucere @flipflopscrop

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Smutty dialogue and dirty talk

I was chatting with a good friend about dirty talk (as one does). We were discussing the things we like and dislike, the things we wish our partners would say, and the things that are absolutely not for us. And because of this, I was thinking about how tricky dirty talk is, not just in real life, but also in writing.

On occasion, people have DMed me to ask for advice on writing smutty dialogue. While I'm in no way an expert, I have written a fair amount of smut, and of course, I made my name writing this bit of filth, which is entirely dirty talk. So I do have at least some experience.

When I was a wee little DJ, I used to steal magazines from my older sister and hide with a flashlight to read the sex advice column, as curious little DJs are wont to do. I don't remember any of it EXCEPT for one column that has stuck with me for the last *cough cough* decades.

A reader requested advice, saying that their partner had asked them to talk dirty, and they were struggling with what to say. They said it felt unnatural and awkward, and they could never think of anything to say in the moment. The columnist came through with some truly excellent advice.

They suggested starting out simple: "I love the way your X feels in/on my Y."*

The columnist said that eventually the words would start to flow as they became more comfortable with talking in bed, but that the most important thing was just to be honest about how their partner made them feel. Honesty is the key to making dirty talk feel natural and authentic instead of forced and rehearsed. It's about connecting with your partner(s), not about putting on a performance.

And that's exactly how it works with writing, too. The key to writing great smutty dialogue, in my opinion, isn't to try to force it to be the dirtiest, most explicit thing ever (not that there's anything wrong with that). It's to just let your characters say how they feel in that moment.

It doesn't need to be a flowery, heartfelt declaration of eternal love; it can be as simple as, "Damn, you have an incredible [body part of choice]," or just feedback like, "Don't stop," "God, you feel good," "Harder," "I love the way you taste," "Do that again," or, "Right there, just like that." Don't underestimate the impact of a well-timed curse, either. And if a flowery, heartfelt declaration of eternal love is what feels right in the moment, go for it! It's your story, and you can write it however you want.

*Note that neither X nor Y have to always refer to genitalia or even necessarily to body parts. I'll be reblogging with examples, but I'm keeping this post reasonably SFW.

Sexy, smutty taglist:

@523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49 @arcsimper5 @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @marierg @idontgetanysleep @lonewolflupe

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @cw80831 @flyiingsly

@lightwise @swcowgal @vrycurious @thora-sniper @returnofthepineapple

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @kimiheartblade

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod @ivyyyyy @somewhere-on-kamino

@burningnerdchild @saneabandoned @heidnspeak @maniacalbooper @rebell-ious

[nochedie]

intertwined, sewn together

pairing: sam winchester x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wordcount: 1k ish

summary: just some late night talking

a/n: hehe… um 😳 i actually haven’t written anything for 7 YEARS! and i haven’t ever written for spn before! so please be gentle with me 🙏 i am working on a soulless sam fic but it’s becoming pretty long soo i decided to just do a little fluffy drabble in the meantime! i have a migraine so im sorry if it makes little to no sense :) i read through a couple times and i cant tell if its bad or if i just hate my own writing (definitely the last one but it might be both 😌☝����) anyways i love sam and i needed some fluff! much love and please enjoy 🫶🏼

“do you ever think about… the future? for us?” you and sam were laying next to each other in the motel room double bed, alone in the room. dean was out at the nearest bar, and told you both not to wait up. you always cherished the alone time with sam.

he turned to face you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “all the time.”

“and what do you think about?” you took in each and every inch of his face, the sculpt of his jaw, his eyes which held a look of admiration as they looked into yours.

“i think about… one day being able to just… live. you know? me and you. forever.” his voice held some sadness. and you knew exactly why. you could think about this all you wanted, but the life you led… it could never be normal. sam had tried before, he had tried to be normal, tried to live a normal life. but everything fell apart. you knew he still felt that pain. he wanted so badly to be normal. but he was a winchester.

“maybe we can’t live some suburban life. but we don’t need that to live, sam… sure, our job is dangerous but… well we’re still here, aren’t we? we’ve made it this long.”

“y/n…” you reached out to touch his cheek, and his eyes closed at the feeling, completely relaxing into your touch. “i just… every single day i wake up and worry that something is going to happen to you.”

“hmm… it almost sounds like you don’t think i can fend for myself. you know i can beat a vampire with my bare hands!” you definitely could not.

sam’s laughter filled the room almost immediately, “oh, suddenly you have super strength?”

“you don’t know what i have.” you feigned offence, pulling out of his grasp and turning your body away from him.

“um… what do you think you’re doing?” he spoke between chuckles, slipping his arms around your torso, pulling you flush against him. “let me see your pretty face, love.”

“only if you admit that i have fists of steel and i could absolutely kill a vampire with no weapon.” sam had killed gordon with nothing more than a bit of wire, so this wasn’t the most unrealistic claim.

“right. you’re right, honey. vampires watch out! y/n’s coming! with… maybe chicken wire?”

“you’re mean.”

he practically erupted into laughter, more of an endearing laughter than anything else. he gave you a tight squeeze from behind, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“turn around please, honey. i promise i’ll stop.”

you heeded his request, turning in his embrace so that your faces were but centimetres apart.

“there you are.” he took a deep breath in as he studied every inch of your face, taking in each small detail, each feature which made up the face he loved so much.

you slid one arm around his torso and rest the other on his chest, shuffling as close as you could and letting your eyes close.

“you getting tired?” sam reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving only a sliver of light in the room from the outside street lights.

“just a little. but let’s keep talking, okay?”

“alright, love. what do you want to talk about?” he shifted onto his back and put his arm around you, leading your head to rest against his shoulder, while one arm kept resting on his chest.

“chicken wire.” you stifled a laugh.

sam looked up at the ceiling, a wide smile plastered on his lips. these were his favorite moments with you, and he adored how you could immediately switch his mood.

this hunt in particular had been tough, but it was over now, and this was your last night in the motel before heading to sioux falls in the morning to meet with bobby. the hunt forced sam into some uncomfortable thoughts. you had come far too close to danger, and it sent him into a spiral worrying about you. he hadn’t even thought about what he would do if he lost you, but it felt like he had been hit head on by the thought. he really couldn’t live without you, he knew that for a fact. tonight, he was really feeling it. all he wanted to do was hold you close and never let go. but this conversation with you, your optimism and your smile, just you, allowed sam to feel a genuine content.

“i love you.” he whispered, planting a kiss on top of your head.

you hadn’t realised how tired you were, and you had already drifted to sleep. after a few minutes, sam did the same.

****

you opened your eyes to see sam looking back at you, already awake. “good morning, love.”

“good morning.” you stretched your limbs, sitting up in the bed before looking around the room. “dean didn’t come back last night?”

“he did, he went out to pack up the car. you slept in pretty late.”

“hmm.. well we better get ready and hit the road, then?”

“or… we could cuddle for a bit.” he tugged on your arm, attempting to coax you to lay back.

“sammy.. you just said i slept in pretty late.”

“and did i say that was a bad thing?” cue two more arm tugs.

just as you were about to lay back down and into sam’s arms, you heard a few knocks, followed by dean’s voice through the door. “cars packed up, you kids have got fifteen minutes or i’m leaving you behind!”

“i guess no cuddling today.” sam has to suppress a whine as he reluctantly gets out of bed.

“do you think we have time for a shower?”

“oh, definitely.” you jump out of bed and grab sam’s outstretched hand, following him into the bathroom.

[bamfkeeper]

Absolution. | K.W

warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI | AFAB reader | Religious themes | Priest/sinner roleplay | Soft dom/sub dynamics | Dirty talk | Spanking | Slight bondage | Anal sex | Sex toys | Corruption themes. Obviously not realistic don't just have anal sex without prep 😭

Do not read if this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable, please just skip it. I mean no disrespect to religion, this is just a stupid fanfic please do not take this seriously.

a/n: I started this fic in JULY. So if the writing seems a little weird, that's why. I've grown a lot since I first started this blog so my style has switched up a bit. I tried to keep to Kurt's character even with the scenario, hopefully I balanced it out okay. Probably not everyone's thing so...don't read if not. Slowly making my way back here. Not proofread, will do at a later date. ;; wc: 4.7k

You were so bored.

It was a lazy day at the mansion, your boredom drove you into a cleaning frenzy. While rummaging through Kurt's wardrobe, you stumbled upon something you hadn't seen before. "Kurt, is this..." you begin, your voice trailing off as you carefully extract the garment from its hiding place.

Kurt glances up from the book he held, perched on the chair sitting in the corner of the room, his eyes softening with recognition. "Ah, ja...my robes," he responds, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Rising from his seat, he approaches you with measured steps, gently taking the robes from your hands. "I have not worn them in quite some time," he muses, his fingers tracing the familiar fabric with reverence.

Intrigued by this glimpse into Kurt's past, you can't help but tilt your head, "You should put them on." Your curiosity piqued, you add, "I'd love to see how you look in them." You didn't share the same views, which might've been why Kurt was a bit reserved about that part of himself, not wanting to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable.

You make yourself comfortable on the bed, eager to see how he looked in his robes. Kurt, ever obliging, nods in response to your request and begins to don his priestly attire. The process is unhurried, almost ritualistic, as he carefully slips into each layer. Once fully dressed, he turns his attention to the details, his fingers working to adjust the collar just so. Standing before the mirror, Kurt takes a moment to assess his reflection, his expression a mixture of familiarity and something like nostalgia crosses his features.

"Well, what do you think, liebling?" he inquired, slowly rotating to face you with his arms slightly extended. His end of his tail tail swayed under the end of the robe in a languid motion as his eyes met yours, curiosity evident in his gaze. As you observed him, an unexpected sensation stirred within you, a powerful and undeniable attraction that you found impossible to ignore. You felt shame bubble in your belly, you shouldn't be this attracted to him like this. It was wrong, but...it felt so right.

Drawn by this magnetic pull, you rose from your seat and approached him. Your voice was low and appreciative as you commented, "You look really good wearing this." Your hand, almost of its own accord, traced a path up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric. He responded with a soft, knowing chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah... I see that mischievous glint in your eyes. You're thinking naughty things, aren't you?" he remarked, gently placing his hand over yours to halt its exploratory journey.

"I understand what you desire, liebe," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "However, I'm not certain I can fulfill that wish while wearing these garments. They hold too much sacred meaning for me...engaging in such activities while wearing them would feel far too blasphemous." His words trailed off, leaving an air of regret hanging between you.

Kurt held his religious beliefs close to his heart, creating a conflict between his desire not to disappoint you and his need to maintain the sanctity of his attire. The struggle was obvious in his expression as he grappled with the dilemma of wanting to please you without compromising his deeply held convictions.

"Why don't we pretend?" you suggested with a mischievous glint in your eye. "Something along the lines of roleplaying, maybe? Given your natural flair for theatrics and showmanship, I'm sure you could have fun with it." The proposition wasn't without merit, and he thought about it for a moment, his mind clearly working through the possibilities. His head tilted to the side in contemplation, and reaching his internal consensus, he nodded in agreement, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Very well," he replied, his voice a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm. "We can certainly give that a try. If it brings you happiness, then I'm more than willing." His smile widened as he leaned in, planting a gentle, affectionate kiss on the tip of your nose. "However, I'll need a moment to prepare. Allow me to make some alterations to my appearance and demeanor. I have a different robe I will change into, very similar to this one, don't worry. Just less significant to me."

And just like that, the scene was set.

In what felt like a few moments, Kurt had transformed. He now stood towering above you, his presence suddenly commanding and authoritative.

You were on your knees before him, a position that encouraged the power dynamic you both had agreed to explore. Kurt reached down and cupped your chin in his hand, gentle and assertive, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and playful, now held a hint of stern judgment, perfectly in character for the role he had assumed.

"Well, well," he began, his voice taking on a rich, sonorous quality that sent a shiver down your spine. "You've been quite the naughty sinner, haven't you?" His tone carried a note of playful admonishment, but there was an underlying current of something more intense. "After all the transgressions you've committed, you now come seeking absolution? Seeking forgiveness from me?" He questioned, his delivery starting off with a hint of theatrical flair.

It was clear that this was new territory for him, and initially, he felt a touch of self-consciousness, a slight awkwardness in inhabiting this unfamiliar role. However, as he continued, you could see him settling into the character, his confidence growing with each word. His initial hesitation was rapidly giving way to a more controlled, measured performance, as he found his footing in this improvised scenario.

You felt nervous and excited, the feelings coursing through your veins, having never engaged in 'roleplay' before. A slight tremor shook your voice and a few nervous chuckles followed, you managed to formulate a response. "Oh, Father Wagner," you began, your words held playful desperation, "I've been so busy, I haven’t had the time to come to you. But now, I find myself in dire need of spiritual cleansing. You're the only one who possesses the power to absolve me of my sins." As the words left your lips, you had to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a giggle at the sheer ridiculousness of the scenario.

"My child," he responded, his tone suddenly shifting, "The act of sinning is no trivial matter to be taken lightly." His abrupt immersion into the 'role' caught you completely off guard, leaving you momentarily stunned. He released his grip on your chin and fixed you with a stern, unyielding gaze. "However," he continued, his voice low and resonant, "You are fortunate indeed. For I have been bestowed the ability to purge the corruption of sin from your very soul."

A part of you wanted to burst into laughter, seeing him adopt such a serious demeanor for this playful charade was a surprise. However, not wanting to shatter the illusion or dampen the enjoyment of the moment, you made a conscious effort to maintain your composure and play along. You gave a slight bow with your head, responding in a soft, reverent tone, "Yes, Father Wagner." You repeated his title, savoring the way it rolled off your tongue.

Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his, your eyes wide and imploring, your features arranged into the most innocent expression you could muster. "I humbly beseech you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "Please, cleanse my soul of its impurities."

Kurt gently lifted you from the floor and guided you to the bed. "I will have to start with the basics, my dear, but do not be afraid. I promise you, I will purify your soul," he whispered, his voice acting as a soothing balm to your nerves. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he guided you to lay across the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and gentle. "Now, stay perfectly still..." he hummed, his voice a low, melodic rumble. You felt him move away, his presence shifting to the side as he reached for something unseen.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you attempted to turn your head, eager to catch a glimpse of what he was doing. However, Kurt's hand swiftly returned, his palm warm against the back of your head as he held you in place. "Ah, nein, my little sinner," he chided softly, a hint of playfulness in his tone. "You must remain still for the cleansing ritual to work its magic." His fingers began to move, gently scratching your scalp in a soothing manner before he slowly withdrew his touch.

You couldn't help but let out a small huff of frustration, torn between the desire to see and the need to obey his instructions. Despite your impatience, you forced yourself to comply, your body relaxing into the position he had placed you in.

"Alright, alright," you conceded, your voice a mixture of resignation and anticipation. "What exactly do you have in store for me, Father Wagner?" The question hung in the air, your curiosity peaking as you waited, body tense with expectation. The soft sound of Kurt's footsteps reached your ears as he moved around the room. When he returned, you sensed his presence beside you, accompanied by the subtle rustle of fabric.

"I have something special for you, mein Schatz," he murmured, his accent thickening slightly with emotion. You heard the gentle thud of an object being placed on the bed next to you, and from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a small, ornate box. The sight of it only heightened your curiosity, and Kurt knew it.

"This has all of my cleansing tools, my dear. I promise you I will be forgiven when I am done," Kurt said, his voice a low, husky whisper. His hand glided over the curve of your ass, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and electrifying. The anticipation built with each passing second, your skin tingling under his fingertips. Just as you began to relax into his caress, he suddenly laid a firm smack to your backside. The sharp sound echoed in the room, followed immediately by a stinging sensation that spread across your skin.

Your eyes widened in shock, and before you could process what had happened, a sharp cry of surprise escaped your lips. "Ah, Kurt!" You spat out, shock in your tone as you blinked and registered the sensation. The unexpected nature of his action left you breathless, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend that he had actually spanked you, of all things.

"Es tut mir Leid, schatz...are you okay?" Kurt asked, his voice shifting from the dominant tone he had adopted earlier to one of concern. He paused, breaking character for a moment as he gently rubbed his hand over your backside, soothing the lingering sting from his unexpected strike. The tender ministrations of his fingers helped ease the sensation, and you realized that while the spank had been surprising, it hadn't actually hurt. You still appreciated his attentiveness and care, even in the midst of your roleplay. You nodded, meeting his gaze to reassure him of your well-being.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied, your voice a little breathier than usual. A smile played at the corners of your mouth as you continued, "I just didn't expect it, but I'm down if that's what you wanna do." Your words came out as a purr, laden with a newfound excitement.

A playful glint danced in your eyes, reflecting your growing intrigue with this unexpected turn of events. Kurt's cheeks flushed a light shade of violet, betraying his initial surprise at your enthusiastic response.

For a moment, his carefully constructed persona faltered, and you caught a glimpse of the sweet, sometimes shy man beneath the dominant exterior.

He quickly cleared his throat, visibly attempting to regain his composure and slip back into character. As you watched him struggle to maintain his role, you felt a wave of affection wash over you. You were genuinely touched that he had taken the time to check in and ensure he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. You gave him a nod, silently telling him you were good to continue.

He delivered another firm smack to your ass, this time with increased intensity. "Such a mischievous creature you are, I certainly have my work cut out for me, ja? What shall I do with such a naughty thing..." he mused, allowing his hand to caress one of your cheeks tenderly before administering another spank. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you bit down gently, eliciting a smile from him. "Remember, liebe, if you wish to stop, simply say 'red'," he cooed reassuringly, planting a gentle kiss along your spine. You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the safe word.

Kurt delicately parted you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing and somewhat playful smile. "My, my, you're already quite aroused, my little sinner...truly a naughty thing indeed. It seems I shall have to purify you in an alternative manner." His voice carried a blend of amusement and authority, causing your heart to race even more rapidly than before. He leaned in closer, his warm breath caressing your skin, as he continued in a low, seductive murmur, "This cleansing will be most thorough, I assure you. It will be an experience that shall linger in your memory for quite some time to come...and make you think twice before committing a sin again."

You could feel something warm on your ass and you stiffened slightly, feeling a lubricated finger gently teasing the ring of muscle. He felt your body grow tense, noticing the subtle shift in your posture. Kurt circled his finger around the tightened muscle, trying to ease the tension. "Are you alright, Liebling?" Kurt asked softly, his voice concerned again. "Remember, you can say 'red' if you want to stop at any point," he reminded gently, emphasizing your safety and comfort above all else.

"I-I'm okay, just new...is all." You managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. The sensation of your stomach tightening made everything feel a lot more sensitive. You had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of the situation left you feeling a bit unsure, but willing to try it.

Kurt slowly pushed his finger past the muscle and you gasped. His finger weaseled its way into you, gently pumping in and out, the lube making it much easier than without. The sensation was so weird, but it felt so good too.

"Nngh...that feels good..." you murmured softly, your entire body melting into his gentle caress. With each delicate movement of his finger, you instinctively leaned back towards him, craving more of his touch. The sensation coursed through you, feeling so alien and unfamiliar, yet simultaneously exhilarating and soothing. The pleasure it brought left you yearning for more, desperate to feel more pleasure from your puckered entrance.

"Does it now? Well...a delicate little thing like you would naturally be drawn to this, wouldn't you? Such a taboo act...and here you are, completely enthralled by it." Kurt's voice was a low, melodious hum, tinged with a playfully sinister undertone. He deliberately withdrew his finger at an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every second of your squirming reaction. His intense gaze locked onto yours, observing with rapt attention as you quivered while looking over your shoulder at him.

The corners of his lips gradually curled upward into a self-satisfied smirk, clearly relishing the profound effect he was having on you. "Look at you, already trembling like a leaf," he remarked, his voice barely above a whisper, the intoxicating thrill of dominance unmistakable in both his tone and his piercing stare.

He decided to indulge in further exploration, his hands delicately gliding up the expanse of your bare back. He paused momentarily to bestow a gentle, comforting massage upon your shoulders, gradually easing away any lingering tension that might have been nestled within your muscles. His fingers traced a path down your spine, offering a soothing rub that coaxed you into an even deeper state of relaxation. You could feel each individual vertebra beneath his expert touch as he worked his way down your back with practiced precision.

As you surrendered more fully to his ministrations, he boldly ventured his hands lower, teasingly and playfully toying with your sensitive nipples. The unexpected sensation shot pleasure through your body, causing your face to flush deeply with a mix of arousal and bashfulness. Unable to contain your reaction, you let out a loud, unrestrained moan that echoed in the room, instinctively pressing your hips back against him in a clear display of eagerness and desire.

"Now, my lovely sinner, we shall proceed to the next crucial phase of your purification," he whispered, his lips barely grazing the delicate shell of your ear. "For this part, I'm afraid I must restrain you. Are you comfortable with that, my dearest?" His words, though softly spoken, carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

You could feel your heart thundering within your chest, its rapid beats seeming to reverberate through your entire being. Your mind was racing, filled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions as you tried to imagine what might come next. The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, growing more intense and charged.

Every small sound became magnified in the growing silence - the rustle of fabric, the soft whisper of breath, the faint creak of floorboards. As you mentally steeled yourself for what was coming, time seemed to slow, each moment stretching out as you waited with bated breath for his next move.

He retrieved a delicate string adorned with small, shimmering beads. The intricate piece bore a striking resemblance to a rosary, yet it was not one in the traditional sense; the carefully chosen beads served a purely aesthetic purpose, devoid of any genuine religious significance. Kurt began to wrap the beaded string around your arms, his movements slow and deliberate as he secured them to the bed. Each loop was placed with thoughtful consideration, ensuring both your comfort and the effectiveness of the restraint.

He then turned his attention to your legs, repeating the process. The beaded strings were artfully arranged, positioning your limbs wide, you were unable to close them. The sensation was novel and a little weird, yet not unpleasant. Before going any further, he paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of restraint and the gentle pressure of the beads against your skin. His eyes met yours as he softly inquired, "Gut?" His voice was barely above a whisper, laden with care and seeking your approval.

After a brief moment of introspection, you responded with a nod, you found yourself surprisingly at ease. The bondage, expertly applied, caused no discomfort whatsoever. He made sure that the bindings around your wrists and ankles were secure without being restrictive or painful for you. Finding your voice, you replied, "I'm good, Father Wagner." Your tone carried a hint of playfulness, embracing the theatrical nature of the scenario.

He was pleased, so he continued. He shifted himself so his cock was exposed, he slowly stroked himself hard and he stepped closer. His cock head gently massaged between your folds and you mentally prepared for penetration but instead, he angled up at your other hole. You took a moment to realize what he was doing and you smirked, "Father Wagner...are you sure I'm the sinner?" You questioned playfully and wriggled your hips back.

"Hush," he said back quietly, his face blushed a bit before he got back in the mindset. "This is necessary for your sins. I unfortunately can't cleanse you through your womb, I must use the other hole you have..." he whispered, his spongy, blushed head pressed against the ring of muscle gently, prodding you lightly and teasing you.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, "Oh, are you sure I cannot pay for my sins with my pussy?" You asked with a gentle strain, turning to look back at him and blinking with feigned innocence. "Or have I been so naughty that my sweet cunt isn't worth my sins?"

Kurt grinned at your playful words, though caught a little off guard by the vulgarity, he was still enjoying the banter between you and he continued to prod your ass. "Oh, my dear, your sins are far too great for just one part of you to pay...I'm afraid only this hole will do." His tail curled behind him and handed him a small toy, he reached between your legs and teased your throbbing clit before he dragged it through your wet folds and pushed it inside your pussy. "Can't have temptation now can we?"

The surprising action from him made you let out a desperate whine, you could feel your pretty bundle of nerves throbbing at the light touch he had given you. "Only my ass, there isn't any other way?" You questioned, playing along with the direction the scene was going.

He leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades gently and he leaned close to speak in your ear. "Now then...let's see if we can't absolve some of these sins of yours." he whispered teasingly, spreading you a bit more before sliding into your ass slowly. The sudden intrusion into your ass made you stiffen in surprise. It was uncomfortable at first, the muscles not used to being stretched out.

The sensation was intense, causing you to inhale sharply as he eased in just past the tip. Immediately, he halted his movements, his eyes fixed intently on your face to gauge your reaction. Your comfort and well-being were important to him, regardless of the intimate act you were engaged in. He had no desire to inflict any discomfort upon you. "Are you alright?" he inquired in a gentle, concerned tone, his body completely motionless as he awaited your response.

"I just..." you exhaled slowly, trying to steady your breathing, "Need a moment to adjust..." you managed to say, your voice slightly strained. The initial discomfort was challenging, even with the careful preparation he had undertaken beforehand. His hands moved to your hips, gently caressing them in soothing, circular motions, but the rest of his body remained perfectly still, allowing you the time you needed.

Several minutes passed as you gradually acclimated to the new sensation. When you felt ready, you cautiously shifted your hips backward, assisting him in entering further. "Mmm...it's better now...f-feels good," you murmured, your voice a mixture of relief and growing pleasure.

"Gut...I will purify you, my child, do not fear," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He began to move his hips steadily, a rhythmic motion that gradually increased in intensity. Slowly, deliberately, he rocked into you, his thrusts careful and measured until he was fully seated within you. Kurt's arms encircled you, holding you close against his body, the warmth of his embrace felt good against the cool bedroom air.

The soft fabric of his robes swayed gently with each movement, creating a whisper of sound in the quiet room. "Ach....you are tight as a drum," he breathed, his words barely audible. He swallowed thickly, his body trembling with the effort of restraint, fighting against the overwhelming urge to lose himself in the moment.

You sighed deeply, your body responding to his movements with a shudder that ran from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. Instinctively, you were rocking back against him, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. "I can feel it working," you panted, your voice breathy. "I feel it, getting better...aah...the sins are leaving me…" Your words trailed off into a soft moan.

"They will fade, just let me cleanse you..." Kurt hissed against your skin, his hips thrusting faster against you as he focused on pumping himself in and out at a good pace. His cock stretched you so good, your previously unused hole now burning with hot desire, squeezing every ounce of him into your cavern.

"Kurt, oh my god...keep going," you moaned loudly, feeling every single bit of his dick deep inside you. Every vein against the muscle of your ass, the curve of that soft tip and the thickness pushing its way in and out with each piston of his hips. It felt so damn good, you were molding to him.

"I...am almost there, liebling..." Kurt rasped, his tail wrapped around your thigh tightly as he focused his thrusts. His endurance was impressive as hell, and he was determined to continue the pace he set without faltering.

The spade of his tail slithered over your clit and rubbed over it, gently teasing the bud enough for you to react and moan. His hands moved from your hips and ran under you to feel your chest. He was practically laying on you now, his hips not stuttering for a second.

You felt your climax approach and wash over you before you could warn him, and you let out a loud cry of pleasure as you came. Kurt's eyes widened, you tightened around him with your orgasm and his hips halted. He shot his climax deep into you, a guttural groan leaving his throat as he held you still.

Kurt gave a few more solid thrusts before he pulled out of your swollen hole, watching his cum drip out of your throbbing muscle. He felt such pride seeing you this way, but he knew you were extra sensitive now and the play was over after your respective climaxes. He reached and carefully removed the toy from your pussy, earning a soft whine from you.

"Ach...liebe...you will be the death of me..." He moved to unbind you, his fingers working methodically to remove each restraint one by one. As the bindings fell away, your limbs were finally free to relax from their confined position. Your muscles, having been held taut for so long, now felt completely boneless - like warm honey flowing through your veins. You rolled languidly onto your side and curled up into yourself, savoring the pure bliss that came with being able to bend and stretch your limbs again.

He settled beside you, shrugging off his robe before taking one of your arms into his hands as he began to massage the places where the restraints had been. His strong fingers working in slow, deliberate circles to encourage proper circulation. Each press of his fingertips was perfectly measured, firm enough to be therapeutic but gentle enough to soothe. He punctuated each rub with soft kisses, his lips trailing over the subtle marks left behind on your skin, trying to kiss away any lingering discomfort.

You were grateful for his gentle touch, melting into his embrace as he carefully tended to you. The warmth of his hands was soothing against your skin, and you couldn't help but sink deeper into the comfort he provided. You weren't hurt, but there was definitely a pleasant soreness settling into your muscles now. "That was...amazing," you breathed softly, your voice filled with contentment, "I mean...wow... I don't even know what to say..."

"You liked it?" Kurt asked, a gentle smile playing across his features as his hand splayed across your back, fingers working in slow, methodical circles to ease the tension around your hips.

"I didn't expect you to take the role so easily, or seriously..." You chuckled lightly, looking up at him from where you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. "But...it was fun. I mean, really fun. Did you enjoy it too? You didn't feel pressured into anything, right? I know it was kind of a weird request..."

"Of course not, liebe. I enjoyed it very much. Besides, seeing you so completely blissed out is one of my absolute favorite things to see...~" Kurt teased with a gentle smirk, his playful tone making you squirm as his tail lazily wrapped around your waist.

"Kurt..." You whined and quickly pulled the soft blanket nearby over your flushed body, burying your face against his chest, "We just finished! Don't get any ideas!"

"Okay, okay...no more play tonight. Just let Father Wagner take care of his precious little sinner now. You need your rest."

"Kurt!" You exclaimed, playfully swatting his arm despite the smile you couldn't quite hide. Regardless, you curled up as he continued to pamper you after the scene, his slow rubs and hums lulling you into a much needed nap.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Image from unknown source. I searched for over an hour to find the source but wasn't able to find it. If you know please message me so I can update this.

[faorism]

im feeling real the call is coming from within the house vibes rn, so im going to be kinda nasty for a hot minute because you actually were the reason i came across this post in the first place. my friend and i were so aghast at your racializations of hardison in a fic, that they had to see who the fuck you are. and your own ignorance highlights why this response is kinda bullshit.

incorporating race is absolutely something that fandom needs to be better about doing. absolutely. but up your attempts at doing so show how stomach churning poor follow through can be, where i would have preferred you not give an attempt at all. because in the fic in question, you use the wildly outdated term "ebonics" to refer to hardisons exaggerated speech that he codeswitches into occasionally. my friend and i spent fifteen minutes trying to decipher your implications in the line: "He’s young, or maybe (hopefully) just black, is the first thing."

i did not read your evil!hardison fic, because i didnt trust your ability to write an entire fic focused on him. that said, i felt like a got enough out of this hc post:

so! i think there's some good points here (perhaps!) about what hardison would look like with a possessive god complex, as opposed to him being a thoughtful provider building homes for the people he loves. and yes, "ownership" is a very contentous topic in the Black community, given how white supremacy has subjugated Black capital. but whatever analysis i would give you credit for—and any brownie points you could get from naming the racialized aspect—is immediately wiped when you fucking compare hardison to a goddamn overseer. you know, like an enslaver overseeing enslaved people? you imply here hardison, a Black man, would be a kind master to his employees. which is just so vile to be casual about.

attempts were made, i can say about your posting and writing. but i don't at all respect it, because you still have so much to really pull together to not be offensive about things.

which gets back to this post. you say your saw weirdness. why the fuck didn't you name it? no, really. did you actually see it or are you trying to save face now? you're not welcome for the labor i (nonblack latinx) and my friend (Black) had to go through to process this post. don't rely on others to do the work of naming racism and antiblackness; do the work yourself, or just don't reblog if you can't give commentary.

and, because i have been nasty and might as well be petty: honestly, there's just so much more work you need to do if you want me to trust you with handling race in fandom when you out here posting shit like this:

you're the fucking issue here too.

Well, a realization just hit me. Don't know if this is true of not, I don't remember the timing.

Eliot said he didn't hit cops in the OG show. Well now that makes sense. His dad is Black. What do Black parents teach their kids when it comes to dealing with the cops? Part of The Talk. Just do as they say, not that that always work.

He would have at least heard that talk with other foster kids, or teammates, if not given it himself.

And why would he stick to that? Because his dad was upset with him and he was still trying to be a Good Boy in one way.

[world0fmadness]

LOVE, THROUGH PEN AND PAPER

okay so i really wrote this as kind of a test piece to test the waters on if you guys like this and maybe i will make more about how the reader met others hehe! also i very much wrote this with the idea that the reader is not originally from norway, hopefully that is not an annoyance to anyone!

can you guys tell that bård is my absolute favourite metal man to write for? <3

♡ you and bård met through being pen pals in the early 90s!

୨୧ most likely, you had ordered a copy of his little black metal fanzine after hearing about it through another pen pal you were speaking to and he had almost immediately taken note of the country that was definitely not norway in your address…

♡ now that he looks back on it, it was probably a pretty major breach of privacy and possibly even incriminating but his interest was far too peaked after he saw your name, which he thought was an absolutely beautiful name, and a country he had never been to so he wrote a little letter to go along with the magazine when he posted it off to reach you

୨୧ but the letter only made you as interested in him as he was in you despite the two of you basically being complete strangers! his letter to you was downright adorable, it was filled with cute broken english and misspellings that made a small smile paint your face as you read through it, it was full of general questions about your home county and how exactly you heard about his little fanzine! not to mention the mixed in questions about you too, questions about what bands you like and what your life is like! his letter was obviously filled with curiosity about you and who would you be to not write a letter back to him after he ended his own with the most adorable little thank you for buying his fanzine?

♡ when bård received your very first letter back to him, he was so strangely ecstatic about it! he already had quite a few pen pals but you… you and your letter felt so different to him, it felt so much more special and he could never quite put his finger on why until he began to send more letters to you and receive more letters from you! after just about three short months of talking to each other through pen and paper, after talking to each other about music and so many deeper topics about yourselves, after eventually beginning to send pictures of yourselves to each other, bård finally realised just what about you and your letters felt so special to him…

୨୧ he was totally into you! oh gosh, of course he was! everything made sense when it clicked in his head that he had a more intimate liking towards you, all those times that he would sit around feeling so impatient and almost lost whilst waiting for your next letter to arrive, all of those times he would check his post every single morning for your next letter, all of those times he felt so free and open when writing to you about himself, all of those times he would feel his face heat up whenever he read your compliments towards him and his band! there were just so many things that suddenly made so much sense when it all pieced together in his head that he really liked you, he liked everything about you!

♡ of course this new and sudden realisation scared bård a whole lot because did he really even want to confess his feelings towards you? did he really want to risk losing you as a wonderful friend because you do not feel the same and the waters are made murky after his confession of wanting to be something more? but he does it, he sends you a long letter confessing everything after almost an hour of walking in circles around his small bedroom with his hands grasping at his long brown hair and his mind lost in paranoia before he just decides to sit down and write a letter confessing everything he feels towards you! with shaky hands and a worried mind, the letter turns out slightly messy with chicken scrawl handwriting but he knows you will still understand it all, you always seem to understand him! he actually gets his mother to post this letter to you for him, he knows damn well that he would probably pull out just before posting it and he knows his worry would probably get the best of him so he asks her to post it for him

୨୧ the waiting days after sending the letter to you are downright horrible for bård, he can barely focus on anything as he awaits your letter back to him and not even playing his drums take his mind away from you… he can barely get to sleep at night as he fears the possibility that he will never receive a letter back from you because of his confession! the restless nights and fearful days become evident in his face as his eyes grow tired and his pale face becomes exhausted! but then, after a excruciatingly slow week of waiting and hoping, he receives a letter through the door and immediately runs to snatch it up from the carpet before rushing upstairs to his bedroom to read it in private…

♡ bård almost yells in excitement and pure happiness when he reads through your letter with shaky hands and sees the words about how you feel the exact same towards him, he can just barely even attempt to hold in a relieved scream as his worried mind is finally put to rest by your loving words on the paper! his body is completely overrun with energy and an almost childlike glee as he fully realised that this is it, he has you now! he has all he ever wanted now! you felt so perfect for him, from the first time he ever read your name on that delivery address and felt a strange tingle in his heart to now as he reads through your letter about feeling that very same love for him! he feels so at peace and so content as he reads your confession letter over and over again, savouring your sweet words in his head before putting it aside to excitedly begin writing his next one to you

୨୧ you can hardly believe your eyes when you read his next letter back to you about how fearful he was to admit his feelings for you, your eyes widening in confusion as you read his written words about how terrified he was… how on earth would it have ever been possible for you to have not felt the same for him? he was so sweet, so passionate and so handsome… i would have been impossible for you to have not felt the very same love for him that he felt for you…

♡ eventually, in early january of the next year after the two of you had even began talking for the first time through letters, you decided to fly out to norway as a kind of late christmas gift for him! you did not even ask him to meet you at the airport as the closest one to his home was still quite a bit away but he did anyways, of course he did! how could he not? he wanted, needed to be there the second you stepped foot in the very same country he was in, he needed to be with you the second it was possible and he sure was! literally the minute you were in his sight after exiting the terminal, he was rushing to take you into his arms for the very first time! excitement mixed with nervousness taking over his body as he held you in a tight hug while you laughed quietly into his shoulder about how constricting his skinny arms were around you before settling your hands on his blushing cheeks and leaning up to place a deep kiss to his lips, the first of many! he was so nervous, he had never kissed anyone like you before, none of his prior kisses were real like this one, you felt so real! after that day, it was hard for him to ever let you go at all, every minute of your days in norway were spent being in his arms as the two of you talked about anything and everything you could think of! this first time actually meeting only proved to bård just how perfect you truly were for him and he never wanted you to leave his arms <3

[evilcokito]

@ceruleancattail Cater Serial Killer Au. This is revenge, I hope it's not too much. Really hope so, I'm sorry if it's too much!

Tw: Yandere, Blood / gore, Knife, Murder / Death, Cater, suggestive, Cater again.

Had to do it here because can't hide [ keep reading ] sending asks, so well. I'm bad at writing, ignore the errors IT WAS GOOGLE TRANSLATOR.

Dangerous animals must be caged. Unfortunately for you a cage is a prison and at other times, a fortress. Cater knows that too well.

With that conscience stained red, try to constantly ignore the reality that your eyes manage to appreciate: Nothing motivates and puts Cater in a good mood, than playing with his prey. Not even animals, no matter how wild they are with that level of cruelty.

Every time someone died by your hands, that despicable… boyfriend… made fun of his prey. Not at all chosen at random, that was YOUR style. Absolutely all of Cater's victims are his acquaintances from some point. And if there is something that this cunning fox loves, it is when people beg for mercy. Using the word "sadistic" is absolutely foolish now. Who deserves Cater's mercy and who doesn't? Did you think he would be different with you?

-What are you thinking? Cater asked at the very moment he took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours and starting to kiss your wrist.

-… nothing.

Your eyes were lost on the body in front of you, a girlfriend? She is… was absolutely gorgeous. Her wide and beautiful dress, very fashionable. So beautiful that even stained with carmin and destroyed stomach by your knife, looked good. Her soft, blonde hair was well combed. Perfect makeup, so perfect that it wasn't noticeable. Unfortunately, your sad victim died by drowning, happens when you stab in the lung, that's why her lipgloss were stained with blood and saliva. Cater, Cater… this is definitely your "type". Natural beauties, redundancy, are in fashion today.

-She was a horrible person anyway.

-…a horrible person?

Cater is a guy with tender habits, he always repeats the same thing after you murder someone. Your voice broke off when he began to kiss your neck and anticipating your movements, brought you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. With a giggle and a mischievous look from those green eyes, the kisses began to go down your neck, reaching your collarbone. Each kiss are more tender and sweet than the last, addictive. Your legs trembled and you succumbed to his arms with each sigh. That gingerhead is annoyingly good at this.

-Hehe~. What will be the limit today? ~mmhh???

His hand on your hip began to slowly rise towards your waist, lifting your shirt a little along the way. Didn't stop there, he continued to rise through the skin, looking for-

SLAP!

There it was, the limit. You stopped Cater with a slap of such magnitude that his mouth began to bleed. After a motionless moment and a painful gasp, he watched you intently with his eyes wide open.

-Did the same to her too?

-Everyone. But she and the others was boring. They were an accessory. He wiped his mouth by lifting his shirt. Don't let him distract you. Don't lose that esmerald eyes.

-...Jealous?. He took your hands and holding them firmly, cornered you against the wall.

-I'm sorry~~ but you started it. It hurt me a lot. Just two last kiss, kay?~♡ He kissed ternderly your cheek, but quickly lowered your sleeve and bit your shoulder. A choked gasp escaped from your lips. Cater watched your every move closely, smiling. He licked that wound slowly, until, sank his finger into it. This time you couldn't contain your tears.

Cater hated cages. For animals, no matter how wild they are, should be free. Condemn you to be in one just like him…

Forcing you to take a false step, look for each of your limits, observe your movements, he is addicted to it. And when he finds it: giving you a light punishment, leaving marks on you. For stubborn and arrogant being, you gave him an excuse to stop being that tender and boring boyfriend that everyone wants. No one could resist him, and when you contrasted with that, drove him totally crazy and obsessive. One day you'll beg him to continue, right? ~~♡ Incredibly, he stops every one of his impulses with you, keep that in mind.

You'll have to be brave, who knows if you'll suffer the same fate as the corpse scattered on the floor, guts outside, if you ask him. Unfortunately, Cater lacked that tenderness with you in the end. Will it be okay if it hurts just a little? You'll continue breathing for him despite this, right?.

My victim?