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marvelstoriesepic · 2 days ago

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Wake up (part 2)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky will not abandon you unconscious while hoping for answers about what viciousness is running through your body. After all, Hydra always takes everything a person has to offer.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past; Bucky is going through some emotional shit here; Hydra; vomiting; seizure; guilt and self-blame; medical setting and distress; grief; PTSD; anxiety; panic attacks; so much angst

Author’s Note: A second part to Wake up has been the winner of my poll, so here we are. I’ve been sticking with the angst of the first part and I'm not gonna lie, this might have been the hardest thing I’ve written so far. So, please read the warnings before diving in and be beware that this does not end well. (I really don’t believe that all hope’s lost but read for yourself) But I actually do like how this turned out despite it hurting me so much lol. Let me know what you think ♡

Angstober Masterlist | Masterlist

Bucky Barnes has lost a lot in his long life.

He has lost pieces of himself - some torn away violently, others slowly dissolving in his grasp no matter how hard he tried to keep them.

It was torturous and agonizing, prolonged over time, creating empty voids where something complete once used to be.

He has lost the weight and warmth of his own limb, his left arm stolen from him under the most excruciating circumstances, only to be replaced by a piece of metal that messed badly with his nerve endings.

His body bears the evidence. Scars marrying his flesh, muscle and sinew replaced by cold and unfeeling vibranium.

His mind has suffered even worse. Memories shattered, rewritten, erased. A name that once meant something - James Buchanan Barnes - reduced to something foreign, something he had to claw his way back to.

He has been unmade and remade too many times to count, his identity fractured into a thousand pieces. Each one holds remnants of the pain, of orders barked in languages he barely recognizes, of faces he was forced to forget the moment they fell.

His past is an open wound that never quite heals, no matter how much time passes. He has lost friends, family, freedom - every tether to the life he once lived.

But he survived.

Somehow, despite the things Hydra did to him, despite the decades of blood staining his hands, despite the decades of his limbs moving to another brain, despite the guilt slithering through his veins and dragging its nails down his spine. He survived.

He fought his way back. For you. Because of you. You helped him get himself back.

And that’s why this loss - your loss - would be different.

He doesn’t even acknowledge this with dramatics, doesn’t try to make it sound noble or poetic. It’s not something to be proud of. It’s just the truth. A certainty.

If you leave him, he will not survive. He would not even try.

A simple fact that is not simple at all.

It’s the most devastating, soul-crushing fact of his existence.

Because if you never open your eyes again - if those beautiful, expressive eyes, the ones that soften whenever they land on him, the ones that twinkle like stardust only for him because you love him so much - stay closed forever, then what reason does he have to go on?

If he never sees that smile again, the one that makes his knees weak, that makes his chest feel too small to hold everything he feels for you - the smile only made for him because you love him so much - then what point is there in taking another breath?

If you never wrap your arms around him again - never squeeze him so tightly he can feel your affection seep into him, warming the coldest, most forgotten parts of him, because you love him so much - then what is he supposed to do with himself?

If your lips never touch his again, never press against his skin, never ghost over his own in those kisses that steal his breath even if it is a simple peck, or if you end up breathlessly clinging to each other, all because you love him so much - then he might as well have nothing at all.

And if your voice - your sweet, adoring, and grounding voice - never speaks those three words again, the ones that leave him on this world, the ones that remind him that despite everything, despite all that he has done and all that he has lost, he is still capable of being loved - if he never gets to hear those words again, then there will be nothing left of him.

Because without you he is just a man with too many ghosts and too little purpose. A man trying to walk on broken legs, reaching for something, grasping at something, hoping for something, that will never be found.

He would not survive it. Not again. Not this time.

Bucky doesn’t remember the run to the med bay.

It went so fast but also way too slow.

Moments before, he was in your shared room, shaking you, begging for you to wake up, and then, he was barreling down the hallways, your body limp in his arms.

His boots slammed against the floor, his breath coming in ragged rasps. His grip around you was so tight that if you had been awake, you would have told him to ease up, that you weren’t going anywhere with that soft and gentle voice of yours. But you weren’t awake. It was only him.

He doesn’t remember how many doors he crashed through, doesn’t recall how many people shouted his name as he stormed through the compound like a man possessed.

All he could focus on was you, your weight in his arms, the unmanageable silence coming from you. It was too quiet. Too still.

You were and still are the only thing in his focus. The only thing in his mind.

The moment he bursts into the med bay, Bruce is already moving, eyes wide behind his glasses as he takes one look at Bucky’s desperate face - at you - and points to the nearest examination table.

“Put her down. Now.”

Bucky hesitates for only a second.

“Barnes!” Bruce snaps, voice sharp.

And Bucky moves, his hands trembling as he lowers you onto the cold metal table, his touch lingering longer than it should have, afraid you will leave him the moment he lets go.

Then Bruce is there, hands on you, tilting your head, checking your pulse. Bucky feels something inside him snap.

Bile surges up his throat, hot and acidic, and before he can stop himself, he staggers backward, barely making it to a medical waste bin before his stomach heaves violently. His whole body shakes with the force of it, his metal hand clutching the edge of the table so hard it groans under the pressure.

He only hears someone - Tony - mutter behind him. “Jesus. Alright, Barnes, maybe you should-”

“No.” His voice is hoarse, sore. He doesn’t even look up, just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body coiled so tightly he feels like he might snap in half.

He is not leaving.

He doesn’t hear whatever else is said because Bruce is calling for Dr. Cho, his voice tight, controlled but urgent. She appears within moments, already shrugging into her white coat as she assesses the situation with a practiced eye.

“Tell me everything,” she demands, moving beside Bruce as they work over you.

“She was exposed to something - some kind of airborne agent.” Bruce says quickly, Bucky not able to get a word out. “Came back from the mission fine, but then-”

“Then she wouldn’t wake up,” Bucky rasps, his voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He forces himself to step closer again, his fingers jerking at his sides. He wants to touch you, needs to touch you, but Bruce has already started attaching monitors to your chest, your temples, your wrist.

So Bucky can only stare at your unmoving face, and his gut contracts dreadfully, twisting like a wrung-out rag. A breath flees his mouth in a rough gust.

Because you are lying here, looking as if you are fading further away by the second.

Bucky is grateful that no one is paying him any mind.

Every ounce of attention in the room is on you, and that’s exactly where it needs to be. No one spares him so much as a glance, and hell, he is thankful to be ignored.

Because if they looked at him, they would see the way his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Even the metal seems to be quivering, the nerve endings in his shoulder acting up. They would see his chest rising and falling too fast, his breaths sharp and strained like he is moments from shattering into something unrecognizable.

But none of it matters. Because you are still lying there, too still, too limp, too silent, too pale against the stark white of the medical bay’s harsh lights.

The color has drained from your face, your lips slightly parted, your breathing faint but regular. It’s the only sign of life you give.

Your head remains tilted unnaturally to the side, strands of hair sticking to your cheek from the moisture of Bruce’s sensors as they gather data, searching for something that might explain what the hell is happening to you.

Tony is somewhere behind him, speaking hurriedly into his earpiece. “Yeah, well, tell me something useful, here, Fitz!” His voice is sharp, frustration a part of it, but there is something else there, too - something too close to fear. Bucky doesn’t hear that in Tony often. “I don’t care what Fury’s saying - no, I don’t care - just get me those samples analyzed faster.”

There are agitated voices somewhere to his left. Steve and Natasha. Steve is trying to get to him. Bucky knows it without turning around. He can feel his best friend's presence, hear the urgency in the way his boots scruff against the floor, the way his voice lowers as he mutters something to Natasha, arguing. But the redhead doesn’t budge, Steve doesn’t reach him, and Bucky is left standing in place, barely keeping himself upright.

Bruce and Dr. Cho are working in tandem over your body. Bruce adjusts the monitors, his fingers hovering over your wrist for a moment, measuring something by touch alone. His jaw is tight, his usual steady hands moving just a fraction quicker, his eyes switching between the data on the screen and your unmoving form.

Dr. Cho is settling up and IV, her hands deft as she inserts the needle into the delicate skin of your forearm. The bag above you fills with something clear, something Bucky doesn’t recognize, but he trusts her. He has to. She murmurs something to Bruce, and he nods, glancing at one of the monitors before adjusting the oxygen mask now resting over your face.

“We need a full toxicology scan,” Dr. Cho says, voice firm but calm. Something Bucky can’t manage right now. “Start running a metabolic panel and check for neurotoxins. If this was airborne, we need to know if it’s still in her system.”

Bruce is already moving, tapping rapidly at a tablet screen. “Her vitals are stable, but they’re low - lower than they should be. She’s there, but barely.”

Bucky’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms, he is sure even the metal will have marks. His head is spinning, everything outside of you irrelevant to him. There is too much movement, too many sounds, too many people talking, but none of it matters because you still haven’t moved. You still haven’t opened your eyes.

His bones feel like they are collapsing. Like a house of cards caught in a slow fall.

And Bucky swears that if you don’t wake up soon, he won’t be able to breathe at all.

The waiting for results is maddening. He is hardly moving, hardly breathing, only able to wait for someone to say something that will make sense of this.

Bruce is the first to speak. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, squinting at the tablet in his hands like maybe if he looks at it long enough, the numbers will rearrange themselves into something different. Something fixable.

“There’s nothing,” he says, voice quieter than before. Stunned.

Bucky blinks, his body stiffening. “What?”

Bruce glances at Dr. Cho, but she is already busy studying the results on a separate screen, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Nothing toxic in her blood,” Bruce continues, carefully neutral. “No neurotoxins, no foreign substances - nothing that should be causing this.”

Bucky’s insides lurch, churning like a sea under a violent storm. He tilts his head forward as if he misheard, his mind running. “No. No, that’s not-” He gestures uncoordinatedly to where you still lay, unmoving, breath slow but there. “Look at her! There’s gotta be something.”

Dr. Cho finally speaks, measured but voice set. “Medically speaking, she should be awake.”

Bucky got shot in the chest once.

He still doesn’t know how he survived. It hurt like hell.

But those words are the bullet that will tear through his heart, make him crumble, kill him.

Should be awake.

But you fucking aren’t.

“You’re saying she’s fine,” he grits out, his tone steely, voiced with something dark. The same darkness that knots deep in his belly. “But she’s not moving, not waking up, not-” His voice breaks, and he presses his mouth closed so tightly to make a sound stop from boiling up. His head shakes vehemently. “There has to be something.”

“Bucky-” Bruce tries, but Bucky doesn’t let him finish.

“Check again.” His voice is lower now, dangerous, but everybody surely hears the desperation in his tone. “Check again, check everything - you must’ve missed something.”

Bruce exhales, rubbing his temples. “I’ve run the tests twice-”

“Damnit, then run it a fucking third time.” Bucky’s voice rises.

“We’ve checked everything. There is nothing wrong-”

“Then why isn’t she waking up?” Bucky roars, and suddenly, everyone in the room is dead silent.

Tony looks between Bucky and the doctors, his expression grim. Steve, who had edged closer, takes a careful step back, but looks at Bucky warningly, yet still utterly sympathetic. Natasha has just the slightest sheen over her eyes herself, but tries to keep her composure. Sam is standing in a corner, watching without a single remark. That’s new for him.

Even Bruce and Dr. Cho pause for just a second, eyes falling to him.

Then Dr. Cho exhales sharply, snapping her gloves off with quick, almost harsh movements. “Everyone out. Now.”

Tony raises a brow. “You kicking us out, doc?”

“Yes,” she replies curtly. “You’re all in the way. We need to focus. Here are too many people. This won’t help us and it won’t help her.”

Steve hesitates but eventually nods, throwing one last glance at Bucky and at you before stepping out, Tony following behind. Natasha slips out almost quickly, searching for a place to be alone. Sam leaves without a word, expression stony. The room empties.

But Bucky doesn’t move.

“Bucky,” Bruce says, softer now, as if he is speaking to a wild animal, careful not to startle it. “You should go too.”

Bucky doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Dr. Cho frowns unpleased, crossing her arms. “You’re not helping her by being here. You’re just getting in the way.”

“I’m not leaving,” Bucky grinds out, planting his feet like a goddamn mountain. His breathing is too rough, his pulse too high, but he doesn’t have time to care. The only thing he cares about is not to leave you.

Dr. Cho lets out a breath through her nose, but she doesn’t argue further. There is no time to fight with a stubborn ex-assassin who looks like he’s one wrong word away from losing his mind.

“Fine,” she relents, turning back to Bruce. “Then stay out of the way. We have work to do.”

Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge her.

Guilt sits in his chest like something rotten. It is an anxious tangle of nerves and dread and agony that curl in his stomach, inescapable. It’s as if his body is rejecting him all over again.

It feasts on every nerve and every cell and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws, hollowing him out from the inside.

He let himself believe that you were fine. That this is just his paranoia, just his need to keep you wrapped up, shielded from every possible danger - the worry he always feels for you, the way he clings so much.

But your chest rises and falls so slow and mechanical, and it’s not right. Your color is drained to the point that you look ghost-like. It’s as if your body is just pretending to be alive. As if it’s just waiting for something, stalling.

You look like you are already knocking on death’s door.

And they try to tell him there is nothing wrong.

The words make his scull vibrate with rage, but even more so with fear. Such a gripping and burning fear. His pulse is a single beat he can feel all along his skin.

Because what if there really is nothing? What if there is nothing to fix and you are already half gone?

His hands are trembling so hard, not even forming a fist can stop it.

He should have brought you here sooner. Should have forced you here the second you got back, should have ignored your reassurances, your sugary and alluring voice telling him that you feel fine and that you love him and there is nothing to worry about.

But he did worry.

He did have that awful, gut-deep feeling, a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him that something was wrong. But he convinced himself that it was just him. That you are fine. And you would be fine. And this was nothing. And there was nothing to worry about. That you would wake up and smile that soft smile at him and wish him a good morning, honey. You sleep well? with your endearing morning voice and all would be fine because you would be there and awake and with him and in his arms and the sun filtering in would illuminate your body and make you gleam in your ethereal glow and he would tell you you look beautiful and you would giggle and you would kiss him and you would tell him you love him and he would repeat it a thousand times over and-

He wants to throw up again, feeling the nausea rise. He wants to undo whatever led you here, wants to rip apart the universe until he finds the moment where he should have acted, should have saved you, should have known better.

Because things like that happen to Bucky Barnes.

The voices are there. Bruce and Cho speaking in hushed and clinical tones, words slipping past his ears. He hears them. Knows they are saying things that should matter. Should mean something.

But he can’t focus.

Because the only thing his brain registers, the only thing anchoring him to anything right now, is the slow and rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

It pounds in his eardrums, in the space behind his eyes, sinks beneath his skin. Unchanging. It should be a comfort. A reassurance. But it’s not.

It sounds too artificial - as if it’s the machine keeping you here instead of your own will. Instead of you.

His heart seems to try and outrun a fate that has not been decided yet. His hands flex and curl, doing nothing else. He is so helpless. Drowning in the air, like a scream caged behind his ribs with no way to escape.

Bucky is not a man who would ever think about praying.

But for you, he would sink down onto his knees and beg, beg until his lungs give out, plead until his voice dies, and him with it.

He wants to move. Wants to do something. But all he is forced to do is watch. Watch the way your body doesn’t stir, the way your lips remain slightly parted, breath scarcely there. You seem asleep in a way that isn’t right.

Bruce says something. He doesn’t catch it.

Dr. Cho responds, sharper this time, with a note of urgency in her tone. But Bucky still can’t process the words.

Because the beeping is the only thing.

The only proof that you are still here.

The sole factor preventing his thoughts from plunging into a darkness he can't drag his way out of.

The sound of your heartbeat, manufactured and distant, is the only thing between him and utter ruin.

And then it stutters.

Just for a second. A fracture of a hesitation, a hiccup in the mechanical pattern.

But it is clear.

And Bucky’s breath seizes, every nerve ending in his body lighting up under a fire that might just burn him to the ground.

Another stutter.

He lunges forward without thinking, knocking something over in the process, metal clattering against tile. Bruce shouts his name, Cho curses, but Bucky doesn’t hear anything.

Because something is happening.

The beeping stutters again. Then again.

Then your body jerks. A sudden, unnatural motion, like a puppet with its strings, yanked too hard. Your chest arches up, limbs jolting, fingers curling in on themselves like they don’t belong to you anymore.

The heart monitor lets out a rapid sequence of beeps, the steady pattern broken, discordant - like a song ripped apart note by note.

A seizure.

Bucky doesn’t even have time to feel the utter terror pumping up his belly and rushing up to his face in less than half a second, only that it is propelling him forward. He doesn’t care that Bruce and Cho are already moving, doesn’t care that there are hands trying to hold you down, voices shouting instructions.

He drops to his knees by your head because his legs won’t hold him up anymore. His hands reach instinctively - one cradling the back of your head, the other threading into your hair, gripping almost too tight, as if he can keep you here just by holding on. He never should have let go in the first place. Another thing to hate himself for.

“No, no, no, baby, baby, please-” His voice is wrecked. Shattered and gravelly, rasping against his throat like it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. The words barely make it past his lips, broken things gasped between strangled sobs.

“Stay with me, doll. Please. Please, don’t- don’t do this, you don’t get to do this, not to me, not to me-”

His breath is failing him, catching on every desperate syllable, every plea. His chest aches and caves under the panic and horror, he can’t hold himself up properly anymore. His forehead presses against yours, his tears hot where they land on your skin, his entire body shaking against you.

He is crying, saying things not even he understands. His voice is a single crack, a sound so undone it doesn’t sound human. He begs and begs and begs, but you continue to cramp.

A sob rips through him, brutal and loud, and he sucks in a desolate breath between the wreckage of his words.

He doesn’t know the way Cho and Bruce are working frantically, doesn’t hear the sounds of other people in white coats hectically running around.

All he knows is you.

And the way your body seizes beneath his hands, the way your face remains slack, the way your breath catches as if your body itself is deciding whether to keep you here or let you go.

Bucky grips you harder and presses his lips to your temple in a way that is almost rough.

“Stay with me,” he whimpers against your skin, voice not even a real whisper, hoarse and thick with cries. “I can’t lose you. Won’t survive. I won’t survive.”

You gasp.

Your body stills. Limbs falling back onto the hard table with a sharp clang.

And his world is falling apart, into itself, collapsing, crumbling. His eyes fail, not showing him the whole picture anymore, burning his vision away and replacing it with cruel pictures. He falls into an abyss so deep he won’t ever meet the ground and the reprieve of shattering into the floor-

Beep.

A single note.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It’s rhythmic. It’s there.

Your heart is still beating.

The sound sends a shockwave through his chest, his heart, his core, him. It rattles his ribs.

Bucky shudders. A deep, guttural sob rips through him and he buries his face against your hair, his arms wrapped so tightly around you it’s as if he’s trying to fuse you to him, trying to force the universe to let him keep you.

He chokes on a sound, nothing more than a shattered breath. His body sags, overwhelmed, drained, but his hands refuse to loosen their hold on you, careful of the cables attached to your body.

The chaos of the room dims just slightly, shifting to more focus.

“That-” Bruce analyses in a clipped tone. “That wasn’t just a seizure. That was an autonomic collapse. Her body just shut down.”

Bucky is still swimming in the aftershock of nearly losing you, he can’t comprehend anything other than the smell of your hair and skin.

“That’s not possible,” Cho considers, voice low, but there is just the tiniest hint of concern in her voice now. “Not without something triggering it.”

There is shuffling around him - machines being adjusted, readings being analyzed. But Bucky stays right there, forehead pressed to yours, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones as if you were made of glass. “Come back to me,” he breathes, pleading. “Please come back, please. I can’t- I can’t do this without you. Can’t do anything without you. Y/n, please!”

Bruce releases a breath somewhere nearby. Bucky lost all his senses.

“I need to see the chemical breakdown of that gas - now,” he instructs.

“Come back. Come back to me, baby, come back,” Bucky croaks out, still not addressing the two discussing your situation, his voice rough and barely working. His lips don’t move from your temple.

Cho’s hands move over the tablet, scanning your vitals. “Her body didn’t just react to it. It adapted to it. And now-” She pauses, face tightening as she processes the data. “It’s waiting for something.”

Bucky heaves up a breath, a sick and swirling tension writhing in his stomach like a nest of snakes. “Waiting for what?” he finally acknowledges.

Bruce’s gaze flicks up, something apologetic and utterly pained behind his eyes. His voice is careful. “A command.”

Silence slams into the room like a sudden, vicious drop in pressure.

Bucky grows cold. The sickening sensation in him spreads. His hands tighten around you in instinctual protection.

Fucking Hydra.

“This wasn’t just some toxin or experiment,” Cho continues, flipping through the data, her expression darkening. “This was programmed. Her nervous system - her brain - it’s been put in a dormant state. Not a coma, not unconsciousness. Something else.”

Bucky is shaking his head before she even finishes speaking. “No. No, she - she’s right here, she’s breathing, she-”

But he can’t deny it. Can’t ignore the chilling, creeping terror worming around his spine, despair festering it. Because he knows this. Knows the way Hydra takes people and twists them, programs them like machines, like weapons, like him.

His stomach sinks, drops, falls - down, down, down. Falling into the abyss. Never to land. Never to return.

Nausea rolls over him in sick ways. But he can’t let him heave it up again. Because therefore, he would have to let go of you. And he will not do that.

“It’s got to be some kind of activation sequence,” Bruce says grimly. “A failsafe. Whatever was in that gas, it did something to her. Put her into a kind of-” he pauses, carefully glancing at Bucky, “-standby mode.”

Bucky’s jaw is hard, it would hurt if he could feel it. “Then wake her the fuck up.”

“We’re trying,” Cho snaps back, stress sharpening her usual calm tone. “But this isn’t just a medical problem, Barnes. It’s neurological. It’s programming.”

Bucky flinches. His fingers tangle in your hair and he tucks you impossibly closer. “She’s not a machine,”he spits out, voice shaking, harsher than he means it to be but not able to change it. “She’s not like-”

He stops himself. The words She’s not like me nearly escape, but he forces them back down his throat, though it burns.

Bruce and Cho exchange a look.

And that’s when Tony speaks up from the corner of the room - seemingly having allowed himself to come back inside - voice resolved, hard. “Then we need to figure out what the hell they were trying to turn her into.”

No. Please, god, no. Not her. Not you.

Bucky is unaware of his movements, of the way he is clutching you tighter, the way his body trembles, the sting in his throat from how ragged his breathing has been for the last couple of however long he’s been here already.

He can’t keep you from this. Can’t protect you from something that has already taken root inside you.

Just like it did in him.

His vision is a hot fog. The room nothing but a smear of sterile white light and moving shadows, the voices of Banner and Cho turning into indecipherable noise as they scramble for answers.

Tony is heading to his lap to probably run every scan known to a man on that goddamn gas. Steve is speaking too. Where did he come from? Since when is he here again? But Bucky doesn’t care. He doesn’t listen.

Because you are still motionless in his arms.

They are talking about activation sequences. Standby modes. Neurological programming. They’re using all these terms, these medical, scientific explanations - but none of them are saying what it really means.

Hydra did something to you.

Hydra put something in you.

And if there’s one thing Bucky knows, one thing that has been burned into his very being, it’s that Hydra does not give. It does not take halfway. It does not leave things unfinished.

They only ever take everything.

And only with a little bit of smoke in the air, you have been exposed to for mere minutes.

A rough, strangled sound makes its way up his throat, and it takes him a second to realize it’s even coming from him. A horrible, cracking noise of grief and rage and devastation. His fingers dig into the warmth of you, your neck, your back, your thigh, needing to feel you, needing to have you here with him even though his mind is screaming at him that all the parts of you he had are gone already.

But he won’t accept that.

Shaking fingers card through your hair, pushing damp strands away from your face, his metal hand cradling your cheek.

His voice is an aching whisper. “You’re stronger than me, you know that?” His breath shudders over the words, his quivering lips brushing against your forehead, lingering there. “You always have been.”

His thumb gently strokes over the hollow beneath your closed eye, his jaw clenching hard as he takes in the deep stillness of your body. His chest tries to draw in air but is constricted.

He can’t see you like this. You are never this still. Never motionless. You live in the moment - in bright, uncontainable energy.

“You’ll get through this.” Each word drags thickly from his throat. It hurts so much. Everything hurts so much. “I know you will. You always do. You always pull me with you, too.” His laugh is soft and hollow, broken like the man he is in process of becoming again. “Even when I didn’t want saving, you just-”

He swallows hard, squeezes his eyes together, and takes a deep breath filled with your scents. But it mingles with the sterile smell of that moisture and clinic. A tear slips past his lashes. Another follows.

“You never let go.”

His head bows, his forehead against your temple, a shallow gasp slips from his lips.

“And I won’t either.”

His flesh thumb presses lightly to your neck, enough to feel your pulse. He hears the beep of the monitor but he needs to feel it.

“I’m right here, baby,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He presses his lips to your temple, to your cheekbones, to your forehead, your nose, everywhere he likes. Everywhere he has to. He lets himself feel the warmth of you, the thumps of your heartbeat against his fingers.

Another tear slips past when he presses another strained whisper to your skin.

“I’d go anywhere with you. I’d follow you to the end of the world. But you gotta wake up, baby.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice finally meets his ears, but it sounds too damn soft. As if he is talking to a wounded and aching creature.

As if he expects Bucky to break. He might. He will.

Bucky snaps his head up, and the look on his face must be something terrible because Steve actually takes a step back.

“You think I don’t know what this means?” Bucky growls, his voice a debris of sound. His hands shake so hard against you, he can’t even hold you as tight as he wants to anymore. And for the first time in his life, he hates the warmth of his flesh. Hates that the metal doesn’t run through both arms, because maybe then he wouldn’t have to feel this overpowering helplessness.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel human enough to understand what it means to lose.

Maybe then he could just return to be the machine he was supposed to be all along.

He already feels himself going back to him.

“She’s not like me,” he snarls, voice catching on the words, breaking them apart. “She’s not going to be like me.”

No one answers him.

No one says no, of course not, she’s going to be fine, we’ll fix this, we’ll wake her up and this will just be another nightmare we all wake up from.

Because no one knows if that’s true.

Bruce’s fingers move over his tablet. “Whatever Hydra did… it’s not finished yet. We need to be prepared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky’s voice is lethal, pure steel dipping into panic.

“It means,” Bruce hesitates, glancing at Steve for help but the blonde doesn’t seem to know better, so he continues. “We don’t know in what state she is in. This could have done anything to her-”

A low, animalistic sound rumbles from Bucky’s chest. “Then we stop it.”

Bruce looks at him, eyes trying to soften, but he seems too remorseful. “We don’t even know what it is yet.”

“We stop it,” Bucky repeats, harsher this time. Because the alternative is something he can’t think of.

He sways, a choking sense of deja vu inching up his spine. He knows this feeling. He’s lived this feeling. That moment, the harsh, dizzying drop into nothingness, when you realize you don’t know yourself anymore. That you never really did.

And now, Hydra is doing that to you.

Cho stiffens suddenly, eyes rapidly moving across the screen in front of her. “Wait - something’s changing-”

Every muscle in Bucky’s body locks as his gaze snaps to you, his breath stalling.

Your fingers. The barest twitch. A tiny, nearly imperceptible movement against his chest.

But it’s there.

Bucky sucks in a breath so sharp it burns. “She’s-”

Before he can finish, your entire body spasms intensely.

Alarms shriek. Machines stutter to life. A sharp, erratic beeping floods the room.

Your scream tears through the space. Guttural and fervent and wrong.

Bucky’s blood freezes mid-flow, turning to shards of ice beneath his skin.

Because you are screaming like you are dying.

And suddenly, everyone is rushing around. Bruce and Cho are lunging forward, Steve is cursing under his breath.

Bucky can’t move.

Frost crackles through his veins, leaving only numbness behind.

You continue screaming. It sounds like it’s affecting your vocal cords.

There is winter inside of Bucky.

His arms tighten around you, his body moving on pure instinct, pressing you to him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he gasps out, not even sure if you can hear him, but he can’t help it. He cups your face between his hands, hoping to still the way you thrash around and bump your head against the metal beneath you. “I’m here. It’s me, baby. It’s Bucky. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

But your screams don’t stop.

Your hands claw weakly at your own chest, at your throat, as if trying to get something out, as if your own skin is suffocating you. Your nails leave scratch marks on your collarbone.

And Bucky loses it.

“Do something!” he yells, his head whipping around to Bruce and Cho, his voice shredded with desperation. “Help her!”

Bruce quickly injects something into your IV, Cho adjusts the monitors as they beep wildly.

But Bucky doesn’t see any of it.

He only sees you.

His world narrows down to your face, to the way your lips part on a strained gasp, the way your body shakes in his grip, the way your screams turn to whimpers and then stop altogether.

Then, your eyes snap open.

Bucky stops breathing. Stops moving. Only stares agape.

Your gaze is on him, wide and glassy and soaked in terror.

But you look at him in a way you never looked at him ever before.

You look at him like you are not yourself anymore.

You look at him like you don’t know him.

You look at him like you don’t recognize him at all.

“Without you, the world means nothing to me.”

- Emily Brontë

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 days ago

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(This ask took me forever because my phone was being a bum, then I lost said ask so whoever this was from, thank you, and heres what you asked for)

They would obviously go insane, being kidnapped by some low-life thug in Gotham and held against their will for millions of dollars, but in your eyes, you thought you weren't even worth a penny. You didn't even fight back; no way your shit-faced family would come running to save you. At least Bruce was on the way to save Jason from dying, but there was no way he would do the same for you. You saw the look in his eyes when you attended galas; it wasn't out of love, it was out of shame, pure shame. So you sat there in the cold, dark, and wet room, seeing rats chew on electric cables; even if it shocked them, they'd keep on chewing, keep on finding something to eat, even if there was pain or it would kill them in the long run. What had you thought of yourself so much, proving yourself to people who would never see you as their equal? You were allowed one call, and only one. Your kidnappers thought you would call your dear old dad, but no, you called your mom. You were begging and crying, using "mommy"—you hadn't used that word since you were 13—but right now, you wanted your mom more than anything. Fuck Batman and his stupid kids; you wanted your momma.

She took the message to Bruce; she was going through all four stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, but acceptance wasn't one of them. She wouldn't accept the fact that you might be dead; she wouldn't accept the fact that she'd never find you; she wouldn't accept it at all, and she tore them a new one, cursing each and every family member out while Alfred held her back, making sure she didn't do anything rash, which she would, and the Batfam felt absolutely trembled. Go searching for you? Half of Gotham would have burned down if it wasn't for Tim and Babs talking the rest of them out of it, but let's be honest, those computer twins were up for nights searching security cameras for you. Bruce was the craziest out of all of them; it was like losing Jason again, except it was his own flesh and blood, and when he heard that you called your mom for help—not him—he lost it. She didn't even have enough money for the ransom; she couldn't pay it off, but you called her instead of your billionaire father, who was BATMAN! For Christ's sake, did you really not trust him? Did you really think you weren't worth the trouble? Did you think he didn't love you?

He was going crazy in his study just at the thought that Dick, Jason, and Cass were going full rage mode. They'd been beating thugs into unconsciousness; some of their faces were unrecognizable if they didn't have an ID on them. Damian was very confused; he didn't know what to feel. At first, he acted aloof. Why did they want you of all people? You were useless, a disgrace to the Wayne family name, weak and replaceable, and when he shared those feelings with Alfred, the old butler who always seemed to understand him, walked away without a single word. It just didn't make sense to him. Why did the old man care, and why did everyone care now, and why did he care? This wasn't like him. Not at all.

Steph felt like she failed as a sister, as a hero. How could anyone hurt you? You're so sweet, so silly, so kind, yet she did the same. She was no better than the thugs. Duke was completely out of it. You'd catch him muttering to himself, going on all-night patrols, hitting the streets, finding all the info he could, and coming back to your big brother when he finally found you half alive, your locs matted and fizzy. Your glasses were broken, and dirt caked your brown skin. You pushed away from them the second they tried to touch you. You screamed for your mom, crying for her like a baby. Still, she finally showed up, pushing the brick of a man that is Bruce Wayne out of the way, grabbing you like you were a baby that was first put into her arms the second she gave birth to you. The Batfam was heartbroken, especially Bruce. He had made his suit less scary for the last child who cried when they saw him, but even when he took off his cowl and got closer, you still cried and pulled away from him, afraid he might attack you. But he wouldn’t—you’re his baby, after all.

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cursedhaglette · 2 days ago

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Solavellan recs you say? 👀👀👀👀👀

OHHHHH POOOKIIIIEEEEEEEEEE here's a lil bit of everything for you, go forth and feast

remorse is not an apology by deciblesque - you will find me gradually losing my shit in the comments of this one. we shouldn't be allowed to read it for free, it's so brilliant. i literally have no words, it's just so fucking good. post-DAV and an absolute must read. (also the author has some very delicious solavelassan smut if you need something to wash it down with)

the shrine of your lies by @swordbisexual - make that everything by ouiser by dear god, this one will have you needing solas so bad

the first six months of forever by lahtays - devastating, brilliant, sexy, post-solas doing his big stupid but written pre-DAV (as if we need DAV though) but they get to live in the world as they fix things and yeah. so so good.

scion by @widowling - we know martyr, we love (and love to hate) martyr, but honestly scion is gonna RUIN me in a big way and i can't wait. a good, like ACTUALLY GOOD, arlathan AU is hard to find but a sexy young solas is also the most important thing in the world to me, especially if he's also just a lil dumb. my beloved widowling nailed it. can't wait for more of this one.

love is not a victory march by @brunchatthebookstore - the inquisitor gets the call to go to minrathous in time for solas' ritual. this is an all-timer in the making, i just know it.

miles below the surface of the dawn by @thefirstaidkit - long form smut that literally made me cry i'm not kidding. this fandom really has everything. you know what's more fucked up? KIT HADN'T EVEN FINISHED DAI WHEN WRITING THIS MASTERPIECE.... shfdkjhjsdfkjshdf

verhas'alhan - to yearn for wilderness by rosemarybagels - centuries spent after the veil falls and this is painful but absolutely beautiful and feels so wonderfully true to both characters and ugh. UGH. how to be heartbroken and hate each other but love each other all at the same time. gorgeous.

her hand was invented before god was by @citrusai - gan'freya woman that she is. solas snoop that he is. this is absolutely delicious and perfect and i've read it twice and i know i will again because it's so them.

the immortal game by @psykergirl - the most solavellan smut of all time. trust me on this.

all new, faded for her by @scaryanneee - putting this toward the bottom only because i've recc'd it before multiple times but not because i love it any less. it's one of my current comfort fics and anna is so so brilliant and perfect at writing the classic romance tropes we know and love but making them soooo sollavellan it's sick. also morinne is there but who cares when ATHERA. QUEEN ATHERA. god.

these hands, if not gods by @gefionne - also at the bottom only because i've recc'd it before and i think the whole fandom is probably bouncing up and down waiting for every update. my other current comfort fic at the moment. imagining young solas whimpering with nipple rings gets me through the day and gef...god bless gef for that.

there's........so much more porn here than i expected. oops. but also it's all literally so good i'm not even sorry about it. also if you want to support moi, i write a lil fic called requited but feel weird promo-ing it more than that. i also have more fic recs for solavellan answered here, here and here!

anyways, have fun and enjoy!

#thank you for asking bc this gave me a break from endless interview prep hehe #fic recs #solavellan fic recs #solavellan fics #solavellan #solavellan fanfic #solavellan hell #solavellan heaven #asks

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 hours ago

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Can't Have One Without the Other 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy’s in the middle). I wasn’t intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You bring Bucky his dinner. He's in the front room watching a show on military tanks. As you set his plate on the low coffee table, he clears his throat.

"Those old Shermans used to blow their tops like a cork. Useless," he snickers and reaches for the accompanying beer. "Thanks."

"No problem. Hope it's good," you back up.

You go back to the kitchen and tidy up what's left. You pack away the extra potatoes and beans. You only made one steak. He calls your name.

"Yeah," you look down the hall into the front room.

"You gonna join me? Wife?" He adds the last word like a reprimand.

"Uh, yeah, one sec," you retreat and grab a glass from the cupboard. You fill it with water and mix in some electrolytes.

You go out and sit next to him on the couch. He leans over the coffee table as he cuts into the steak. Medium rare to his liking. You sip your water as he shoves a hunk in his mouth and looks at you. He gulps and frowns.

"You're not having any?" He snarls.

"I'm not very hungry. That cappuccino was sugary," you assure him and turn the glass in your hands.

"You should have more than that," he says.

"Sorry, I--"

"Christ, you don't gotta be sorry. Making me feel like the bad guy again. Making me dinner, sitting there with water, apologising. I'm just fucking concerned since you're my wife," he huffs and scoops up potatoes onto his fork. A speck falls to the floor. "Shit," he looks down.

"Let me get you a napkin."

You place the glass on a coaster and get up. You scurry out to grab a paper towel and return. You lay it next to his plate as he chews. He wipes up the potato and crumples the strip of towel.

"I mean, I don't think I was wrong," he says through a mouthful, stopping to swallow. "Won't let me touch you. Makes a guy feel a kind of way."

"Bucky," you look down. "It's not you. I don't want to argue about this anymore."

"I don't either. I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Figure me out?" You utter.

"Yeah, I'm trying to recognise you. My own wife," he shakes his head. "You're not the same girl I married."

You wince and shrink down, "no, I don't think I am," you agree. "I'm fat and I'm lazy." You stand up and take your water, "and I'm ruining your supper."

You march out, tense and tortured. You don't look back as you head upstairs. You believe every word you said. He doesn't deny them either.

You sit on the edge of the bed and drink the water. You're hungry. Mostly because you're emotional. When you feel lonely, sad, angry, you just want to eat. You drain the glass and leave it on the nightstand.

You stop yourself from taking off your rings. You get up and change into striped pajama pants that used to fit too loose and a tee shirt that hugs your middle. You hide under the blankets and watch the window as the night sets in.

You can hear him downstairs. He rinses off his plate. You should've gone back down to do that. He'll probably be sure to tell you so.

You roll over so you can't see the door. You're too upset to sleep. You're stuck in a vortex of dread and self-hatred.

You open your eyes as you hear him climbing the stairs. The light flicks on as he enters. He moves softly through the space. You hear a drawer and him sifitng around. When he doesn't tuck in next to you, you're sure he's about to go sleep on the couch.

"Hey, doll," he tugs the blanket by your foot, "wanna do something for me?"

Doll? When's the last time he called you that? You brace yourself and sit up. You look at him. He holds up black lace.

"Will you put this on for me?"

You stare at him dumbly. Huh?

"Bucky," you groan.

"Come on," he coaxes, "these are my favourite. You know that."

You feel like you could crumble into dust just looking at the lingerie. Still, it's not worth the fight. You're going to feel bad either way.

"Sure," you get up and walk along the bed. You look him in the face. You take in his square jaw, his cheekbones, the shadow of stubble, his bold blue eyes. He is still unbelievably handsome. "Bucky," your cheeks pinch. "I miss you."

"I'm back, baby," he smirks.

You almost drop your shoulders. That's not what you mean. You exhale and smile. "I know."

You go into the bathroom and shut the door. You switch out your pajamas for the lace. You're mortified at how your belly pudges up over the underwear. Your tits are spilling out of the bra too.

You refuse to acknowledge the mirror. You stand facing the door. A gentle breeze could knock you over.

"Doll?" Bucky calls to you.

You flinch and make yourself move. You turn the handle and your vision hazes. You open the door and step through. You don't see him as you come out.

He whistles, "see, that's what I missed."

You shake the fog and look at him. He's naked. He might have a bit extra too but he's still in good shape.

"Come here, baby," he waves you closer with both hands. "You didn't think earlier was everything."

You stare at him. It's a whirlwind. One minute he's mad, the next he's cooing and coaxing. You don't know that he really wants you, only what's accessible.

You go to him and he grabs your hips. You instinctively grab his hands. You waver as he pushes his thumbs into your soft flesh.

"Hey, why so shy?" He looks up at you. "You're acting like it's our first time." He brings you into his lap. You can't resist. You're much too weak, more than physically. "Wasn't that spectacular, huh?"

"Bucky," you look away bashfully. You remember. You were shy because it wasn't where you imagined it. Hiding in a closet at one of Stark's stupid parties.

"You didn't used to be so afraid of being bad," he falls back and takes your hands, putting them on his chest. "Why don't you be bad for me, baby?"

You stare down at him and bite your lip. He's still your husband. He's still somewhere deep in your heart. You bat your lashes.

"Can I turn off the light?" You ask.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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sky-scribbles · 13 hours ago

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hi, skyscribbles!

as an aroace writer myself, i struggle a lot with writing romance. how am i supposed to describe something so foreign to me?

i love how you've written your romances, so i guess what I'm trying to ask is - any tips? help?

Never fear, I have one easy trick that will solve all your romance problems (okay, that's an exaggeration, but it has been a massive help to me):

Just make them influence each other's character growth.

Here's the thing. I truly believe that we don't need to describe romance. We can sit here all day trying to imagine the sensation of romantic attraction, and we can try to capture it in words, but will that make the readers actually care about the pairing? We can say 'A was attracted to B, and it felt like this,' but can that alone convince a reader that A and B have a satisfying narrative to tell together?

We need to structure the story so that it feels as if everything is leading to these characters being together. We need the audience to feel that every interaction between them has payoff. We want them to crave more interactions. We want them to believe that these characters are better together than apart.

So how do we do this? We make each character shape the other one's growth. The result? At the end, each character is a different person to the one they were in the beginning, and it is because the other character was around.

Congratulations! Now these characters are inextricable. They are made from what they learned from each other.

Here are some of my favourite ways to do this:

They push the other character to grow past their flaws. Let's say Character A's flaw is that they struggle to stand up for themself. Have Character B be someone with a strong sense of justice who is horrified by how A lets other people push them around. Thanks to them, A realises they deserve better.

They correct false beliefs about the world that the other character has. For example: have Character A be someone who's been through some shit and thinks the world is universally harsh and cruel. Have Character B be unconditionally kind. Watch Character A go '???' and reconsider their whole worldbiew.

Make the characters have something in common, and then hit them with some good ol' 'learning to love yourself by loving your mirror.' Let's say both characters have done some messed-up things. Character A thinks they could never be forgiven. But hold on - they think B could be forgiven, and if B is just like them... oh no! This means they might not be beyond redemption after all!*

You don't need to describe the feeling of romantic attraction. If you make these characters change each other, the romance will write itself. Because there'll be interesting emotional conflict in how they challenge each other. Because there'll be satisfying narrative payoff in watching them grow past their flaws.

Make the important beats in their personal growth also be important beats in their relationship. Make the growth of the romance plot be inseparable from the growth of them as individuals. Not soulmates as in 'bound by fate', but soulmates as in 'our stories are intertwined, and I would not be myself without you.'

And one last thing: trust yourself. Seriously. As aroace people, we are not missing out on any crucial thing we need to be able to write romance. Think of the people you love most. Think of how they have changed and shaped you. Think of the phrases you started using because they said them; the hobbies and fandoms they introduced you to. Think of what you've learned from them. Think of the memories you share with them.

Think of how you've grown as a person because of them. Think of all the pieces of your loved ones that you have welcomed into your sense of self.

Trust me: you understand love.

—

*Yes, this is just Shadowgast. I'm predictable like that.

#i really hope this helps!#aromantic #asexual #writing advice #obvious disclaimer that you can make Any satisfying relationship like this #romantic or otherwise #and equally obvious disclaimer that the goal is totally different if you're writing a tragic/messy romance

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sapphiccup · 3 days ago

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Lap dancing on Sevika.

Credits: @honeyboo-1 for the edited pics, @strangergraphics for dividers!

CONTENTWARNING: MDNI!!! Men dni, NSFW AHEAD! Sevika x reader quick drabble I think?, dominant/switch reader, switch Sevika, MAYBE doing the do with feelings maybe toys… the anality kind. Lots of smacking, back talk, more, if miss anything so be it. I DID NOT PROOF READ THIS! I genuinely just typed this in here and like I don’t even want to risk to deleting a paragraph on accident. Orange highlights are the lyrics from the songs. Okay enjoy.

Summary: Reader just felt like entertaining her girlfriend to a song she absolutely loves. Sevika tries her best to resist from turning into something else but does she fail? Idk, lets find out.

Song: Lowkey by Teyana Taylor ft, Erykah Badu💌🎼

Slipping your heel on, checking yourself out in the mirror, knowing fully well. Sevika is going to lose her shit, when she sees me in this. You were so excited, had to calm down though, or you’ll ruin your little plan. Which Isn’t really a plan just some mind game that you know your lover is fond of. And what other way to play that game, by your own rules, right? Why not do something unexpected for once? You saunter out of the master bedroom and straight towards Vika in the living area, where she sat in her comfortable chair, getting a moment to relax after one of her long missions. A certain mission that she would have no choice to take, that separates you both for a bit. Which both of you loathe to be away from each other for too long, yes space is needed in a relationship, but you both have that in your comfortable and safe house. A house that is most well kept, build with hard work, and love poured through the walls to make the perfect place that you both own, and proud of it too. The sound of your heels catches her attention, raising a brow at your sudden interest in her. Before, you were in the bedroom claiming to read, instead you come out in this lacey lingerie, a 3 separate piece of clothing that accentuates your breast, dresses your abdomen, see-through designed fishnets that could make crowds stop in unison just to get a peak of your legs, top it all off with some alluring panties that she is definitely not familiar with because let’s face it. She figured she seen them all with how energetic you’ve been with her, (Being with each other for 2 years, she’s noticed a pattern, ovulation weeks really has you both on edge, except that’s not the case.) She’s genuinely caught off guard by this black silked, lacey, curve astonishing getup you have on. Especially that it’s not ovulation week, something is suspicious, you want something, that had to be it, or…? Was this an apology for cussing out her boss on the phone and not letting her handle it? Or.. maybe Sevika is just confused on why you suddenly feel.. intrigued, to just simply— entertain her. You usually need a drink to calm your nerves around her. You still feel shy at times with her, because hello? You’re girlfriend IS FINE, and she doesn’t get it.. She’s oblivious to why you are still acting like you have crush on her, you are both are wa—-y past the crush stage, you were as if it’s the very first day that you both exchanged words again. Mind you, she also feels somewhat the same way being shy about some things you do, nonetheless she’s been around for so long that she couldn’t imagine you not being next to her at this point. So long that it is RARE that you catch her off guard. She opens her mouth, ‘bout to conjure up the words to ask for an explanation for this, she’s not mad just, extremely confused, she hates being confused. However, this is not that bad for once. You shush her before she even gets the chance to ask. She squints at you, as if you hard to see because, what the fuck you mean shush? She’s already complying though, man-spreading her legs a bit, watching you, ‘cause you are obviously up to something. You turn on your heels, walking away from her, drinking in the those clicks and clacks sounds that your heels makes, her heart beating double seeing you bend over, catching something shine in between your supple ass. Now she’s really confused, baffled even. When the fuck did you have the time to sneak around and-

A familiar song comes on, one of your favorites, you instantly are in a mood by the way your hips are moving in such a way reminds her of how much she loves how smooth you roll them, how you pick up the song so quickly into your personal rhythm that entrances her with ease. The lyrics spoke through your body, every swing, every step, your soul was definitely absorbing the vibe. You turn your head towards Sevika, giving her your famous sly smile, that prompts her to lean back in her chair, already knowing what exactly you want from her. Her silver eyes map around your desirable body, no your body of sweet remedy mixing so effortlessly with the sound of this woman’s hypnotic voice, that you love so much.

Ambling your sexy ass over to her, hands on hips, eyes that are hungry, comanding, telling Vika, that you want her to drink you in, as if you were the last drops of wine she’ll ever get, to sip you slowly, and carefully to let a single drop to waste, to savor every bit of you. Because no one, not one person on this earth has the luxury to enjoy you fully as she does. You got close enough for her to touch you, and she reaches her hand to pull you in. Yet, you smacked her hand away.

“Rude, why-“

“Be quiet, I’m in control now.” You respond voice coming out sultry and divine, the way her eyes slowly widened, you have never spoken to her like this, and she’s.. not conflicted, if anything she complied almost immediately hearing you talk like that. You got closer to her, and closer, raising a leg to each of her sides, straddling yourself on her lap, grinding your self on her, holding her shoulders with your freshly manicured hands, leaning back to the point where she could see the veins of your neck, your begging collar bone, that desperately wants to be licked, suck, and printed upon. Your breast almost pooling out of this gift wrap of a bra that Sevika needs to touch, feeling your soft pillowed tits, her ears were aching to hear that moan of yours. You rocked your hips to the womans voice, enticing Vika in a way that she’d punish you deliciously for.

‘This shit got me confused now, ‘fused now, ‘fused’

Your hips rocked to that lyric, lifting yourself back into her face, your eyes stuck on her silver ones, Sevika starring at you, watching you, feeling starved for you, and you were just relishing it. You leaned into her neck, blowing your air on her nerves, causing her to let out a low grunt. You were tempted to lick her neck so bad, but even you were holding back, trying your best to make sure you kept up with your promising energy, the kind of energy that you love that lingers in your blood stream. The power you hold with your words, your body, your entire. You loved it, and you love how much Sevika is responding to it. Instead of giving in to her desire you gave her a peck to her jawline. A stifled moan came out of her, you could tell she tried to not let it but it still had no choice, no choice to water your ego.

You took your time getting off of her, making sure your warmth was remembered with each slide of your plushed body, her body buzzing with white hot passion with every move you’d make. You didn’t leave for long though, sitting right back on her, back facing her, your ass against her crotch, gods she needed to pin you to a wall right now, and lick you all over with the way how your sugary sticky self was leaving permanent memories to her drooling particles. Her hands in fists, refraining for grabbing a full piece of your ass, the way it would feel so good against her palms, barely being able to grab your entire cheek, the way she could see your flesh still be able to peek in between through her fingers. Oh how she even tried her best not rut against your warm pussy that was so close to hers.

But, you just kept going…

‘Know you wanna eat it, but I can’t let you do that, ice cold ice cold’

‘See it all in your eye, know you want to vibe babe, but it’s too late. Sweet just like a starburst, make the start bust with toothache’

The beat to the song and her perfect words syncing up to way you’d make your ass twitch, making it move like water, dipin’ your self toward the floor, making your arch shine in Sevikas vision, you grabbed her hand to only grip slightly into your inner thigh, holding you with glass like care, making sure you don’t fall.

‘In the mornin’ like “Ooh, yeah” in the afternoon, “Ooh, yeah” Ima see you soo~on’

And you slid off her as if you like a snake, slithering off, downward to the floor, orbs focused in on you like prey, though you’re the one that’s easing your meal, getting her into the most feral, to enrich yourself for a great reward, prepared that she’s going to rip into you like a piece of candy, tasting your syrupped frenzy. Satisfyingly steady movement that you get into this cobra like yoga pose, gradually winding yourself back to face her, while splitting your legs open like scissors, her eyes following your heel land right next to her ankle. Sevikas captured rounds, traveling up to your face, catching your teeth latching onto your bottom lip, if only she could just pick you up, ravaging you, your lips, she’s caught herself being a bit jealous of you being able to bite yourself, but not her? You little vixen. Being this much of a tease wrapping her lust, coating it with your electrifying actions, definitely left an indelible mark on her brain. Slopping over to even get a bit closer to you.

‘Now what am I supposed to do? (youuu)’

Your fingers gravitated towards your mound, guiding it to slightly touch your lips, moving that same hand past it, never leaving your skin, your girlfriend anticipating your next move, as your finger went past your sternum, kissing your nipple, a slight moan coming out of you, you are still watching her watch you not daring to look away. Getting back up, but not off the floor, crawling towards her, kissing her clothed thick thigh, to her inner. Her breath becoming less normal and more rigid, your lips kissed her stomach, going higher to almost reaching her breast, before you even touched it, your eyes slit to hers.

“You want me?”

“Y-Yes”

You kept starring into her eyes to find any kind of doubt, none was there, you opened her button up, only bit to show her cleavage, kiss her tit, dragging your tongue on her warm curve. Low grunts, heavy breaths, making you feel drunk. You stopped. A pout coming from her, you rise from your knees, picking her chin up up.

‘But, dammit, you’re so fine. So, take me tonight. Now hold me(hold me).’

Pulling her to your waist, she barely could contain herself, you nodded, mouth agape, in synch with her spilling desire. She kissed it, savoring you, as the song ended

But crazy enough, that wasn’t it, it wasn’t done. She figured you only were going to do one song and another one played, her favorite song, now you’ve done it.

Song: The Beach by Giveon 📌🧸

“Yeah fuck that, I’m not going through that again, come here” she got up from her chair, picking you up, wrapping your legs around her waist, kissing you roughly, biting, and pulling your bottom lip, hungry for you, starved for you, longing for you. Carrying you with ease and kicking in the bedroom door. Pulling away from the kiss dropping you onto the bed, stripping her top off, throwing to gods know where, doesn’t matter she’s frustrated, and ready to take all of you in. Flipping you over so she can see all of your posterior.

‘But she doesn't run from right here. Lust, guns, drugs, violence. Lust, guns, drugs, violence, ooh’

“Do you have any idea, what you do to me, hm?”

Ahh, she dove right into you pussy, regardless of it being caged by these slutty clothes of yours, taking a rough yet soft bite of your lip, making you whimper with delight, this is exactly what you wanted to see, this side of her that playing with every atom of your being, gods could she get any more sexy?

“Mmf.. fuck! I knew—ah.. I knew you’d like this”

“Play with my head? No, I do that, you know that I.. do that. Since when you picked up on my schemes?, and to do it so..”

She rips the lingerie, revealing your wet, practically drenched lips, that were so eager for her, fuck she wanted to just grab her strap and go at it, but she would never put you through something that rough… unless.. you’d ask her. She took a long look at your twitching pussy, sopping wet from so much well spent time riling her up, pissing her off in the most stimulating ways.

“Infuriatingly.”

“Do you not do it, infuriatingly?”

“Smart ass” She said as she slap your juicy cunt, earning a loud drawn out moan, you gripped the sheets, smiling to yourself gnashing your teeth, if only she could see your face.. mmf.

“You ruined my clothes, bitch”

She slapped your ass this time. It was like you were asking for her to decorate your body with tempting bruises, that you were oh so pleading for, more as your dirty mind, and pussy were dying to have.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Go, oh-oh, ooh (Ooh)’

“You must be out of your wits today, hm?”

“Am I?”

You backed up, grabbing her by your strong thighs and flipping her onto the bed instead, turning yourself over, straddling her lap. A dance of who will be on top today. Who will be, the one who loses this game of toss and turn.

Sevika breath was caught in her throat, it happened so fast that she didn’t know that you had already pinned her hands above her head.

“Or am I just that good at it? Better even.”

‘Whatever you want I'ma get it for you (Get it for you)’

She was almost proud of you with how you just took her under like that, obviously her cunt was whining too, ferociously in fact. Needing you to satisfy her importunate flooding appetite, strongly wishing you’d just fill her with your tongue already, clenching her walls on the squishy flesh, or even used her mouth, fuck she needs that so bad. Why the fuck are you not giving it to her already?

Why not? Why not play with your food, play with this infamous woman known for her tricks, her strong stature, her mind of a woman who knows how to read people so well it’s scary. Smart, in way that people doubt just because she doesn’t give them enough information for them to use against her, smart enough to know to always be strategic with the next, after the next… Why not take your time with someone who obviously has time enough to know better of so much?

‘Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me like this

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am

Say, ooh, ooh, ooh, 24th street

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am’

Because, why not? It’s tempting no? Give in to that temptation of what you really want. Tease her, stretch out her ball of heat that is flooding to the brim, undo her slowly like she’s never been undone before. Make her horny until she just loses all of her senses and guide her, guide this fierce woman to go at you like the lion she is. Bring it out of her.

“Admit it, Vika. You hate control.”

You ran a lazy finger down her well kept figure, your finger smoothing over every hard bump of her abs, reaching her happy trail, that you absolutely love riding your slick on, can’t get enough of your clit being stimulated over such a knee buckling sight, you sighed longingly remember how good it felt, your finger still taking its time to be satisfied at her contracting muscles, keeping eye contact well and locked, you were well versed of how much she enjoys your thirst for her.

“Oh yeah definitely I hate it so much, to have more chaos in my life I welcome it.”

She said rolling her eyes, yet her hitches of her breath are not fake.

“Baby, I think you’ve got me all wrong” your grip on her hands become loose for just a moment, she spots it then takes the opportunity, snatching it by the throat, as she usually does with any opening. Her hand rest on your hip, digging her digits in your skin. Pulling you rough towards her, slightly jerking you, to shake those tits of yours. Sevika bit her lip but only for a moment, watching your body react to her is a gift indeed.

‘Your mom told you about this side. It can get ugly’

“I love control.”

You already knew that though, you just want her to really get into it. To control more of your body, more of yourself, push you to the edge at her mercy.

“Oh? Then show me.”

Without sharing another word, she grabs you by your throat bring you down to her face, kissing you with rejuvenating energy, pour down her lust, her yearning for you, down your throat, like spiked liquids making there way down your lungs, taking in everything she has to offer.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go. Won't let you go, go, go. Go, oh, ooh…’

“Mmf, take me, take— ah, me right now.” You’d say between the kisses, this lights something deep within her that was already burning, not some little fire by a match, no a conflagration of urge of doing exactly what you just demanded of her.

“Fuck it.”

She lets out, shifting herself to get up to be at eye level, holding you close as she sits on the bed, finally, finally, she gets to play with your tits the way she’s been wanting, though she has a long way to to go with unclasping your corset, she still find her self licking, biting at the pooling flesh that desperately wanted out of this contraption, damn this contraption keeping Sevika away from your tits. She left hickeys on your breast as protest, soothing it with a lap of her tongue. Getting to the last clasp, and pop it goes, throwing it off the floor only to be met with a lacey bra.

She deadpans at it. Fucking evil.. evil clasps.

“You like torturing me, sweets?”

“Maybe? You like being tortured?”

She rolls her eyes not answering that, her smirk fails her though, already knowing that you immediately got her answer, cursing at her self in her head, and outloud a huff through her nose. Another round of clasp off of you throwing that bra across the room. Not wasting any time, she lapped at your perky nipples, rewarding herself hearing your pants, and whimpers. Kneading your other breast with her free hand, playing with your nipples were a ecstasy all on its own. Carefully touching the center, the part where it really turns you on, squirming in her lap, you rutting, and grinding her again, aching for her as she was for you in the living area. Taking both of her hands, smushing them together so she hungrily suck both at the same time, gods was she good at that, her silver eyes never leaving yours, yours not wanting to spare a glance at anything else, so in tune with each other, your pussy clenching at nothing as she sucked and licked at your pretty nipples, she couldn’t get enough of them. Never enough of you. Not ever. No matter how many times she tries to satisfy herself with you, it is never enough, she rather go at it for days. Enraptured by you and your stunning self, more than just your beauty, that brain of yours that just ticks her just right, asking her the right questions not the annoying ones, being dumb to make her laugh, cooking for her, and with her even though you argue sometimes over the silliest of things, ending up kissing over it, or taking over the kitchen while the other hugs from behind.

She stops, giving you this look.

“Mm.. Vika.. why’d y-“ you pouted but stopped looking at how serious she’s starring at you, your heart speeding up, your chest rising and falling.

“Yes, love?” You ask her to get her to say something, anything, you can’t help but let this heat that started with your ear, fully encapsulating your face completely, you scrunched your nose when you were in embarrassment, and there goes her toothy gapped smile.

“I love you.” She spoked

“I was going to say more, but you look so damn cute like that”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Fuck me then.” Your eyes widen, you hated how she can just switch just like that good gods it made you some stupidly inlove with her, your thoughts just stop all together, and she knows it! She fucking knows it and still does it, like a run on fucking gag. Gods she was so freaking-

Kissing you again, tenderly, slowly, you opening your mouth for her to access to, her long tongue wrapping itself against yours, wresting against each other, wrapping your arms around her neck, desperately trying to get closer to her as if your atoms were never truly touching.

Tenderly turning back to animalistic, grunting, and gripping, scratching her exposed back, you both dizzy for it, urging both of you to just break everything, Vika taking her hand, slowly down your abdomen, your skin prickling at her touch.

“Please touch me, I’m dying here.”

“So whiney”

“Hmph”

Her fingers find their way to your folds, gathering up your continuous bliss.

“All this for me? How sweet.”

You can’t even reply, the way she’s rubbing her digits against you, making you float, even before she inserted anything, just her voice, and those thick fingers of hers are enough. She was chasing those moans with little effort, gluttonous for em’ making your heat stir in ardor. Circling slow motions over your bundle of nerves, dedicating each swirl to make sure it feels perfect for your pulsating kindle.

“Vika I need your mouth please.”

“Hm… After all that teasing you think I should just-“

Lapping at your rouse, her skillful tongue putting in the work, you tussling her hair, messing it up, she doesn’t care though, mess it up all you like, she’s been down there for hours, enjoying every moan, mewl, pant, orgasm, especially your addicting arousal, drinking every bit, and unending leaks.

“Ah! N-need you, please.”

“Use—.. *lap* your words”

“Stick those fucking fingers in me.” She stopped, slapping your pussy once more, almost making you work up another orgasm.

“Please stick your.. thick fiingers in me..”

Before doing that she rolled you over on your stomach, wrapping her bicep around your neck, pulling you up with her, rocking both of your hips in rhythmic motion, fingers lacing with your dripping cunt.

“Thats more like it, now, mind telling me why the fuck you keep talking to me like that? Like I won’t punish you.”

“Is this really— nngh, punishment if I’m enjoying it?”

“Eh, pain is punishment enough, I don’t have it in me to..”

She inserts a finger into your weeping hole. Gasping from her sudden filling, gnashing your teeth, drool coming down your chin with each thrust. Your eyes feeling themselves roll behind your head, these thrust were rough and so filling, touching spaces that can’t feel the same if it were you. Hell, before Sevika came into your life you figured you’d always hate being fingered, be it yourself or someone else, but damn how she changed your mind forever. As long as it’s her.

“-Punish myself by lingering a begging touch that you’d enjoy. Your pleasure, is my pleasure, torturing myself would just be a waste of time, baby”

You found yourself clenching around her fingers already.

“Cumming already? Again?”

“Ah-, I can’t-.. I can’t help it Vika..”

She kisses your neck, cooing in your ear helping you arrive to your last orgasm for the hour, (and yes I mean hour, Sevika is definitely going to be getting her payback for your tease earlier, consensually of course. She knows when its too much for you and stops immediately. Every. Single. Time.)

An.) should I make a pt2? To finish what they started that is.

#sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika #sevika x reader fanfiction #sevika x reader smut #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika headcanon #sevika drabble #little did she know I’m a nasty dog #didn’t expect to make this so long 🤷🏽‍♀️#sapphicscorner

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hongjoongspoetry · 2 days ago

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Thank you so much Esther!! 😭🩷🤧 *Hands you some tissues* I'm so happy you liked bad boy!jongho (especially knowing that he's your bias), he has easily become one of my favorite characters to write now and I'll definitely do more of him in the future!

God the idea of knowing your soulmate and who they are and knowing that in the eyes of the public, and perhaps yours as well, that they’re a bad person, someone others don’t like or have a negative viewpoint of must be hard. Especially if you still cannot help the feelings you have for them when you’re around them even when they behave badly or something. Sounds like such a hard situation to be in and our precious MC is going through just that😭😭

Definitely! Imagine you are fated to someone who is more or less a "bad" person, like what does one do in that situation? Ngl, I wished to dive deeper into that but considering it would go past our word limit for the event I wouldn't do it justice 😭 But I'm still happy you caught onto the indication of what our MC was dealing with!

Although can I say I’m living for bad boy!Jongho, it just does something for me like yes boy be a menace to society🤩 also I totally did not giggle at his introduction where he’s sitting behind his desk as MC questions him on accepting the invitation in her name🙈

This scene was actually inspired from his screen time in Crazy Form (where he's sitting in an office (?) with a gun and shit), all dressed up and looking expensive. I just had to include it, and also his charm! Despite being a menace, he still has girls swooning for him *cough* secretary Eunji *cough*.

JgsuvhccvugcdsuhadbcjadhvfaeibhfbkjaeC he’s so in love with her and she hasn’t noticed it yet😭😩 like he keeps dropping hints throughout the one shot with very subtle ways he’s acting and unfortunately our dear MC only thinks he’s acting that way because of the contract🥲

THE FUNNIEST THING IS WHEN YOU REALIZE HE KNOWS THEY ARE SOULMATE THIS ENTIRE TIME AND ISN'T EVEN ACTING- Like the man wants you, contract or no contract 😭🤭 Ugh, I love writing men who are simps and idk about you, but I feel like Jongho is the type of guy who would treat his partner to everything. I'm talking about spoiling them to the maaaaax.

I enjoyed so much the way you wrote her Mina, it was so nice to see a bit more of a firecracker of a character, like she doesn’t fully take most of his bullshit while also having moments where we see her worry or the conflicting feelings of you know being with your soulmate but also being in a contract where you’re fake dating each other. I can’t really blame her for accepting the contact because I’d probably done the same if I saw the payment whilst also hoping that perhaps this would bring us even closer as soulmates for it to click naturally.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I think, at least for me, the biggest challenge is to write interesting MCs that aren't these typical I-take-no-crap characters. Becuase, in my opinion, those are the easiest to write. So, there's a moment where I always stop and wonder if my MCs are different or if they are just the same character in different universes lmao. It's' also something I want to get better at as I'm writing. To make my MCs different Shy, reserved, scared, introverts or extroverts, talkative, rude, mean, etc. I feel like in my series Puzzle Pieces, I'm way better at making the MCs diverse (obviously no one knows as only Mingi's story is out, but you will see when the time comes😭) And as for this MC, she was 100% right in signing that contract because it was a looooot of money they offered. It's even better when you realize that the two agents (who came with the contract) knew she was Jongho's soulmate and went to her on purpose with that sum of money 😭

I think some of my favorite moments are when you allow us to read how it all affects the, like the idea that thinking/speaking bad about your soulmate causes the bond to burn/hurt you is actually so cool! Don’t think I’ve ever seen that before in a soulmate au and I liked it so much because the idea that Jongho who seems to enjoy “tormenting” her also gets hurt and it quiet possibly being moments where he feels the need to leave to get some time alone, perhaps to even reflect if he went to far or not, just makes me feel things😩

OH!!! I love this! I'm a complete addict when it comes to soulmate aus. They are my favorite fanfic genre to read so best believe ive consumed a good amount of them 😭 And it is as you're saying, not many writers incorporate the soul in soulmate, at least not up to my standard. Yes, the characters are destined to be together, but what else is there to the soulmate connection? What makes them connected and in what way? That's why I decided, for Jongho and this MC, to have that type of bond, where they can kind of feel each other's emotions. Ugh, Esther I love the way your mind works because you literally catch onto everything I'm trying to convey with my writing! Yes, Jongho definitely went out for a smoke (in the middle of the charity event) to calm down after his childish behaviour and yes, him going from teasing to distant in seconds is also his way of trying to collect his thoughts and not feel too much of MC emotions. (It makes me wanna smash my head in knowing that they feel each other's emotions when they are being lovey-dovey, like in the ending scene)

I just adore all the small details you added in which Jongho comforts her, like the hand gently caressing hers, his hand on her hip as he guides her through the overwhelming crowd, even when he tries to stop Ms.Kang and her quiet rude questions🥺 [...] My reaction to Jongho giving her his jacket once she found him outside smoking. Like hello? I love it so much. Just the idea of Jongho covering you with his jacket so you won’t freeze your ass off! When’s it my turn?🧐

Jongho tries to be a bad boy so hard but at the end of the day, he's just a huge softie beneath that hard exterior especially when it comes to the MC. I will never let the "give-them-your-jacket-trope" die! It's the epitome of gentleman behaviour and I need it added in every piece of literature I write lmao 😭 It also further strengthens the image of Jongho not being a "bad" person.

Nah I would never get on a motorcycle ever like you are so right for calling them a death trap, I do not trust them at all!! And that’s coming from someone who’s grown up with both her parents driving said death traps😭 not Jongho laughing at her for being scared and holding on tight to him😭😭 also please I love their bantering so much, the way you wrote Jongho teasing her so often is so good I enjoyed it so much💓

That's criminal. I love motorcycles and I'm even planning on getting a license + bike when I have the money for it (plus I have to wait until I'm 24 but that's another thing lmao). Okay, but your parents are so cool, first your dad plays electric (I believe they were electric) guitars and now I find out both of your parents RIDE MOTORCYCLES??!!?!? So cool😭🌟I feel like its such a Jongho thing to-do, he definitely made the motorcycle go a lil too fast for her to cling onto him AHAHAHH I can just see his menacing smile, like look at these:

menace one menace two menace three

God this whole part after they got of the motorcycle is so beautifully written, the description and the way you wrote the dialogue just did it for me. Truly wonderful and such a delight to read.

THANK YOU AGAIN, omg you are spoiling me 🥹🥹 It's so nice to hear this though, because I really put a lot of effort into that whole last scene. I wanted the readers to really feel their emotions and vulnerability through the screen, especially Jongho's. For a guy who’d always been seen as tough and unapproachable, changing wasn’t going to be easy. But with the MC — his soulmate — there, I feel like he understood that she wouldn't judge him and he just decided to bet on it, be vulnerable and get his feelings hurt or be vulnerable and go home with the love of his life, you know?

You should have heard the noise I made when I read that part and everything that followed🫣 BUT YES HES CONFESSING FIRST🥰❤️ also my poor girlie getting to hear that while she thinks she’s been good at hiding it all Jongho has known since forever that they’re soulmates😩😭

HAHAHAHAHAHAH, I wish we got a live reaction to it (istg that mountain cat meme never makes me not laugh) AND YES HES CONFESSING FIRST, as I said previously, it's Jongho giving their relationship his all or nothing.

Those two lines and everything that followed after that was the like cherry on top as an ending for this story. Ughhhh the way they melt into each other, the kisses, just everything😚🤌💓 in fact I think I re-read the last part from them arriving at the beach like five times because I enjoyed it so much before I reblogged this amazing piece of work.

YOU READ IT FIVE TIMES?!??! 🫨😧🥹 THATS THE BEST THING IVE HEARD ALL DAY THANK YOU!! 🩷😭 I really don't know how to convey my gratitude beside saying thank you! Your words, this whole reblog, has really brightened my day (the meme reactions have aslo been highly appreciated, 10/10 laughs)

The tension, both realizing they want more than what they currently got because of the contract, both deciding to break the contract and start dating fully instead, the way you’ve written it all is so full of life and feels so pure in a way. Like I can’t help but feel that both in a way felt like this contract was the only way to be close with their soulmate while also both hating the contract wanting it to be real and then finally it reaches to the point where they confess💕😩

YES! BUT NEITHER WANTS TO GO AGAINST THE RULES (ESPECIALLY NOT THE MC) AND ARE JUST HOPING FOR SOMETHING TO CHANGE SO THEY CAN DATE-DATE!

Mina, truly thank you for writing and sharing this beautiful piece of work you’ve created. I could go on and on about all the little details you’ve added which gives so much life and depth but I’ve been rambling for a while now.

Oh, Esther, I should be thanking you for taking the time out of your day to read and reblog this fic with all of your thoughts! It really means a lot and it's been so fun to read your thought-process, especially when we share the same opinions and "theories" about the characters 🩷😭

Words can’t really describe how much I’ve enjoyed reading this story and I just think your passion and creativity is such a blessing to be allowed to read!

Yeah, no, you are going to make me cry. I'm going to write this down and keep it in my wallet to remember whenever im feeling sad or not finding the motivation to write 🥹🤧 Thank you once again Esther, you are a diamond and the sweetest atiny I know, and I'm so happy I can be your friend

Pretend You Love Me | Choi Jongho

🥂 Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other’s names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you’re stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho’s tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.

🥂 Pairing(s): Badboy!Jongho x Student!Reader

🥂 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, fake dating AU, fluff, humour

🥂 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), the MC goes by the lastname Jeong, Jongho is a rich kid, the MC not so, Jongho smokes and rides a motorcycle, light alcohol consumption, a lot of teasing, pet names (pretty girl, soulmate, sweetheart & Jjong), probably incorrect portrayal of CEOs and charity events (bare with me, i'm just a girl), some kissing

🥂 Wordcount: 9.0K

🥂 Author's Note: Click the image for a higher resolution (Tumblr, I hate you). This is my first time ever writing for Jongho and also the fastest I’ve finished a fic — just 4 days, to be exact! It was a lot of fun playing around with the soulmate idea and turning Jongho into a bad-boy-ish character. I hope you all enjoy the second fic of the Cherry Blossom March Event and feel brave enough to share your thoughts with me! I'm really curious to hear what you think and have to say :3

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

To go out with people widely. It could mean all sorts of things. A person whose presence spreads widely. Someone who possesses the ability to form broad connections and reach far with their impact, whether it be through influence, relationships or personal qualities. To go out with people widely was the meaning behind the chosen hanja of the name Choi Jongho. The same name that was imprinted on your wrist since birth in black and reminded you daily of your other half. Everyone was born with a name on their wrist that assigned them to a soulmate the moment they entered the world. All you had to go by was the names on your wrists and hope it would be someone sane. Everyone didn’t have to worry about that though as some faced a fate worse than death — their soulmate mark written in white. It symbolized the death of their significant other. One would think the word would change into red, like anger and blood, but no. You liked to think the white represented innocence, cleanliness and new beginnings, almost like an angel.

Your soulmate mark was the same since you were welcomed to the world. Wailing loudly and alerting everyone of your arrival. It hadn’t changed over the course of your twenty-five years long life, for better or for worse. Ever since you could remember, you loved listening to the stories of how people met their soulmates. At family gatherings, you would sit on the knee of your relatives and ask them kindly to retell the moment they met their husbands or wives, but your favorite story was always your parents'.

It was a few days before New Years and both of your parents just recently turned eighteen. The biggest snowfall of the year graced Seoul, like a late Christmas miracle, and the streets were swarmed with people enjoying the freezing weather, young and old alike. Your parents hadn’t known each other by then. They lived in the same neighbourhood, but weren’t aware of just how close they were to their soulmates. Your mother, young and happy, gazed up at the snowflakes being pulled by gravity when something cold and hard struck her, followed by horrified gasps. She crouched down, cradling her head, gently pressing against the side where the snowball had hit. A few seconds later, a young man approached her, apologizing and bowing so deeply that he nearly toppled over. It was your father who had launched the snowball at his friend, misaiming and hitting your mother instead.

Little you hoped to experience a romantic encounter with your soulmate as your parents did. You would stay up way past your bedtime and fantasize of meeting your soulmate, coming up with various scenarios that changed every night, but nothing could prepare you for the surge of emotions when your eyes locked. It was your first day of high school and all of the first year students were gathered in the gymnasium, patiently waiting for the principal to call out their names and their respective classes. You sat in the fifth row on the seventh seat, hands clutching the hem of your blue plaid skirt. It was nerve wracking — starting high school, meeting new people and creating friends. Then there was the possibility of finding the one. The principal cleared his throat, probably getting dried from pronouncing all the names right after each other. You pitied him, but that sentiment flew out the window as he moved onto your class. Out of all the three hundred first years and out of your thirty classmates, one of them was named—

“Choi Jongho!” You burst into his office, letting the door bounce off the wall.

The secretary, frantically chasing after you with desperate pleas not to disturb the designated successor of Choi Clothes, stood in the doorway, her face twisted in a mix of fear and nervousness as she failed at her job. Successor, my ass. That man didn’t know anything beyond smoking a pack of Marlboros a day, dodging his responsibilities, and defying his parents. The man in question was currently sitting behind his desk, one ankle propped on his knee, fully decked out in Valentino — a black suit that was probably bespoke, tailored to his fitting. His hair, a natural shade of dark cocoa, was parted down the middle and showcased his forehead while his hands were decorated with various pieces of jewelry, starting with big fat rings on his fingers, a golden watch and a matching bracelet. Jongho didn’t look the least phased by your appearance nor by the loud entrance. In fact, he looked as monotone as ever, but you saw the brief twitch of his fingers. While he was at the company, he wasn’t allowed to take a smoke until lunch or after work and it sure was getting to him.

“Miss Jeong,” came the annoying voice of his secretary as she began reciting the script drilled into her mind from her first day on the clock. “Mr. Choi’s schedule is fully booked this afternoon and he does not have the time to discuss–”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out as you zeroed in on Jongho and raised a brow, silently challenging him to do something. On cue, the stone cold expression morphed into sunlight seeping through an array of thunderous clouds as he broke out in a charming smile and averted his attention to the woman behind you still going on about rules and policies. Gentle as a breeze and with a faux sweetness to his words, he cut her off.

“It’s alright, Eunij. I called her over to plan our date for the evening. We won’t be long, I promise.”

To really secure the win, Jongho flashed her his significant gummy smile that looked sweeter than sugar itself. Jongho knew he was good looking, you knew he was good looking, everyone knew he was good looking, but what they didn’t know was that he used it to his advantage for years. He would flash them a smile warm enough to melt through ice and cheesing eyes that portrayed the sweetest chocolate in the world, but his mouth wasn’t just good for a handsome distraction. More often than not, Jongho would sweet talk his way out of situations. It worked nine out of ten times. The one time it didn’t work was on you.

As expected, Eunji blushed beneath his attentive gaze and your insides turned on fire. The swirls of his name on your skin burned hotter than a blowtorch and no ice bath would save you from the stinging pain. She threw you one last look before closing the door with a gentle click that could barely be heard in the silent room. Being left alone in the solitude of his office and away from the prying eyes of his father’s employees, Jongho allowed the sugary facade to slip like cotton candy dissolving at a brief contact with water. The round eyes of a teddy didn’t find you, but rather a pair belonging to a hungry bear who’s just had his territory disturbed.

Jongho clasped his fingers together and leaned on the mahogany desk, putting his whole weight on it. “I take it you didn’t come here to give me chocolates for White Day?”

Hadn’t you known Jongho for a decade or so, you’d be confused at the teasing remark coming from a man looking anything but in the mood for playing around. You ignored the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and got straight to the point, hoping it would calm the beautiful creatures pushing you to the brink of puking.

“Why did you agree to attend the charity event on my behalf?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend?”

“Fake-girlfriend,” you corrected him and crossed your arms. “I can’t just change my life to accommodate yours, Jongho, this wasn’t the deal. The contract explicitly said we would be under a fake guise until your name was cleared of rumours and scandals.”

“And how do you think that would happen if we don’t play the part of a happy couple? I can’t go on my own, that tells them I’m more available than ever before, especially when we recently went public with the relationship.”

You yielded under his intense gaze and changed the direction of your attention on the shelf to your left displaying various brands of alcohol ranging from pricey Japanese whiskey to Italian wine. The inside of your cheek was caught between your teeth as you contemplated your answer. He had a point, but you didn’t want to boost his already hugemongous ego. Darting your tongue out to lick at your dry lips, you turned back and found his eyes still staring into the depths of your soul as if searching for the red string that tied you together.

“Just… Just ask me next time before you make a decision on your own, okay? That’s all I want.”

The need to defy everyone and everything danced through his veins, yet the rewarding feeling of succeeding to annoy the other party wasn’t as satisfying when you were on the receiving end this time. He flexed his jaw and the hand that slipped beneath the table to rest on his thigh clenched into a tight fist.

“Fine…”

“Thank you.”

That marked the end of your conversation and you took it as your cue to leave. Jongho’s voice calling out your name brought you to a stop. You didn’t let go of your hold on the doorknob, just turned slightly to show him you were listening.

“We’ll pick you up at six PM on Friday and I’ll have Eunji send you the clothes before then.” As if having the ability to read your mind, he quickly added what felt like the most obvious thing in the world. “And yes, the dress is long sleeved.”

That was probably the sole good thing with the contract, besides the paycheck that sold you in the first place. You weren’t picky with the arrangement and went along with everything stated in the agreement — going on a few dates for publicity, holding hands, kissing, posting each other on social media, attending events and galas. Wearing clothes created by Choi Clothes came with the duty of fake-dating the heir of said agency, however you did make it clear you’d only sign the papers if all the clothes were long sleeved, reaching well over your wrist as not to disclose the soulmate mark. The easy money you once thought you’d earn by fake-dating the successor of Choi Clothes turned into a full-time job with no room for slacking off. Just a few more months, you thought and walked out of Choi Enterprises.

It was still hard to wrap your head around everything. You recalled the day they came knocking on your door. A woman and man dressed in expensive clothes that seemed to cost more than the will your parents set aside for you. They introduced themselves as the managers of Mr. and Mrs. Choi, the owners of Choi Clothes. The ice tea you poured in the prettiest set of china you owned were left untouched as the managers — the names you have long since forgotten — explained their unexpected visit. The Chois selected you as the perfect candidate for their little stunt to ensure their son wouldn’t put the entire family line at shame and burn the whole establishment to the ground before he could even acquire the title as CEO.

Your task was, more or less, to be the candy glued to Jongho’s side and together play the part of a couple head over heels for each other. The pair was patient as you bombarded them with questions, meanwhile they only had three — Do you have a soulmate, have you met your soulmate and how is your criminal record? The quiet voice in the back of your mind pointed out how they probably already had the answers, but didn’t want to seem totally uninterested in you.

At first, you didn’t want to do it. Not only were you going to play pretend for a good few months, but you weren’t even allowed to know who you were going to fake-date as they didn’t want you to decline the offer and run your mouth to a newspaper publisher. The fountain pen with gold swirling engravings on its sides looked scary as it lay abandoned beside the pristine contract. That quickly changed when you saw the never ending zeroes slothed after the word ‘total salary’. Your morning shift at the closest seven-eleven that was about to start in thirty minutes flashed before your eyes and you never signed something as fast as you did that contract.

Perhaps you would’ve said no if you knew the heir was going to be none else than your soulmate. The universe worked in miraculous ways and somehow always made sure to lead you back to him. A magnetic pull that steered you in every direction until you would stand before him again.

The weekend came around and so did the event taking place that Saturday afternoon. It would be marked as your second public outing as a couple feeding into the eager eyes and cameras of South Korea. Mr. Oh, Jongho’s designated driver, pulled up in a squeaky clean limousine that looked more out of place than a kitten raised by a group of squirrel monkeys in the Amazon rainforest. Mr. Oh was a kind older man inching closer and closer to his retirement, always wearing a smile and never speaking without referring to others by their titles. In the few and brief encounters you had with the man, he would always greet you with a ‘Hello, Ms. Jeong’ while opening the rear door for you despite being told to just call you by your name. The backseat was already occupied by Jongho sitting in yet another expensive suit.

The suit jacket was black with white tiger-like stripes erupting from his shoulders and reaching all the way down to his midsection. It had six silver buttons, two for practical use while the rest were there for embellishment. Jongho — never one keen on showing too much — chose to keep the jacket buttoned and you wondered how he could endure it, considering he wore a white turtleneck beneath. The pattern wasn’t what caught the eye of the beholder, rather it was the millions of bedazzles covering the whole piece, making it reflect beneath any form of light, identical to the ones on your dress. His hair was styled in a middle part and unveiled his forehead, a sight you had seen a dozen times before, but were still left breathless. It was already established that Jongho was a handsome man, however the suits created by his parents certainly brought out the best of him — accentuating his confidence, breathtaking features and magnetic presence in a way that left everyone in awe.

Jongho brought you back to reality as he did a rundown of the charity event, what questions to expect and what answers to give, the names of some important people you would definitely speak — or at least greet — with tonight and who would exit the limousine first. You definitely missed the way his eyes ran over your figure, seemingly appreciating you in a beautiful dress from the latest spring collection of his parents. The Chois apparently had a knack for chic attires because your dress wasn’t anything over the top either, but would definitely unscrew some jaws. It was strapless and started from your bosom with a straight neckline allowing your collarbones to be captured by the crazy shuttering cameras. The dress was tight around your torso, giving a perfect picture of your figure beneath, but grew loose from your hips and down. The material didn’t stop until it grazed the ground you walked on, despite wearing a pair of black stiletto heels that were made for your feet and clicked with each step you took, announcing your arrival to everyone in a close vicinity.

Speaking of your lower body — your left leg was exposed as a long slit protruded from your upper thigh. Both of your arms were covered in black detachable sleeves reaching up to your mid bicep and cuffing around the cushion of your hand. You almost threw a fit when you took out the dress from its gigantic box and noticed the lack of sleeves on it. You were one phone call away from canceling the whole agreement hadn’t you seen the remaining parts of the attire. To top it off, the Chois gifted you a set of golden jewelry and a black clutch handbag spacious enough to fit your phone, lipstick and wallet. The matching set of earrings, rings and necklace were nothing too outstanding, but enough to take on the elegance of a model.

“We’ll be there for an hour or two and then Mr. Oh will take you home.”

You ignored the part where it was stated Mr. Oh was taking you home and focused on his subtle slip-in of defying his parents’ rules yet again. Your brows furrowed together and Jongho suppressed the need to even out the skin between them. “No, Mr. and Mrs. Choi explicitly said we had to be there until the very end of the event.”

Jongho leaned into his seat and spread his legs further apart until one of his knees touched your thigh. A chuckle void of amusement filled the passenger compartment and he sighed as if you said the joke of the century.

“I think you should relax a little, sweetheart. My parents should be grateful I’m attending in the first place.”

You pursed your lips to keep yourself from giving your input where it clearly wasn’t wished for. Jongho looked out of the window while you admired his side profile. Jongho was the epitome of a whiplash — you never knew when he’d shake you off like a poisonous insect or help you fly as if you were an injured ladybug. His nonchalance left a bitter tang on your tongue, the similar taste after downing a beer you knew you’d puke back up in a few hours, and the imaginary Jongho was crushed in the world you created in your brain.

The karma of thinking such thoughts was instantaneous as the skin beneath your soulmate mark flared to life. You wondered if Jongho experienced repercussions whenever he was treating you badly. The rest of the drive was done in silence safe for the newest global hits playing through the speakers. Four songs later and the limousine temporarily came to a stop before the entrance of a big building looking like something straight out of a movie. A red carpet was rolled out from the doors to the street where everyone’s ride was instructed to stop and let the guests out. Mr. Oh exited first and walked around the oblong vehicle as Jongho simultaneously fixed his suit although it was free of any imperfections.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

The door opened and Jongho stepped out, an array of flashes went off accompanied by the calls of his name — the photographers begging for a crumb of his attention. Jongho straightened his jacket, offered everyone a smile and quick wave before holding out his hand to face the dark heavens. That was your cue. No one really knew who you were outside of being Jongho’s girlfriend and even after you became public, they could find little to no information about you online. Thus, you didn’t expect the clicking of cameras and flashes to multiply in your presence. You grabbed Jongho’s hand per your agreement and stepped out with your exposed leg first then, when you fully exited the limousine — an upgrade from Jongho’s death trap of a motorcycle — you smoothly looped your arm through his and firecrackers erupted on your skin at the contact. You stood tall and got a couple of inches on him thanks to the heels, but he didn’t seem bothered by it and neither was the company otherwise you doubt they would’ve sent it in the first place.

Standing in the centre of attention wasn’t as nauseating as you originally thought it would be and whether you want to admit it or not, it was partially because of Jongho being there to anchor you. It wasn’t his forthe to whisper sweet words of encouragement, but he portrayed his support in other ways such as leading you through the overwhelming photographers, sneaking his arm around your waist and respectfully resting his palm above the curve of your hip. It helped that you rehearsed the events of the night from start to finish with Jongho and wouldn’t be in for a surprise. Taking advice from your favorite childhood movie, you put on the brightest smile of your career and moved along. The audience didn’t need to know you were finding comfort in the famous line from Madagascar.

The inside of the venue was prettier than any other interior you had ever laid eyes on. To be frank, it wasn’t anything exceptional, but the simplicity made it appear so. The main colors of the theme were creme white and beige, and were integrated into everything. The seats were plush chairs made out of velvet material in an ashy shade of beige while the tables were round with white marble tops. There was a path leading straight down the area and separating the room into two occupied with seats on both sides. On the other end of the pathway was a slightly elevated scene where the hosts of the event and guests would give their speeches, and use the smartboard to their liking. The ceiling was the most alluring sight though. Oblong light bulbs hung from the ceiling as sheer garment circled the light in waves. It gave a sense of elegance as well as coziness.

A waiter dressed in a simple black suit offered you champagne on a platter and while you didn’t wish to become drunk, you still needed some alcohol to get through the night, especially when you were going to meet some of Choi Clothes’ most trusted business partners. You both took a glass each and mingled around with Jongho’s arm still glued to you as if it belonged right above the swell of your hip. Not many words, if any at all, were exchanged as you mainly drank in the design of the place while simultaneously ignoring the stares and whispers of the remaining guests, all eyes glued to your forms fitting perfectly with one another like two lost pieces of a puzzle. They were all curious about the pretty lady beneath Jongho’s arm and how the reckless Choi managed to find a girl that would look past his bad habits and disrespectful personality. If only they knew.

Jongho’s situation wasn’t entirely a secret. Everyone knew he was somewhat of a problematic guy with another style of living that wasn’t fit to his parents’ standard. They didn’t feel all too proud waking up to multiple articles of Dispatch flaunting pictures taken of Jongho leaving clubs early in the morning surrounded by boys and girls of all kinds, certainly not the kind to be invited to exclusive fashion events and charities. Jongho hadn’t changed much over the years, if you recalled correctly. He would rarely be present during lectures. He was physically there, but his mind had transcended off to dreamland long before the lesson started. The one interest he had was soccer and even that ended shortly into his second year as he got with the wrong crowd. If someone needed him, he could be found smoking on the roof or behind the back of the school with a handful of students who also had successful parents.

It was sheer luck Jongho was an only child and that his parents were in need of a successor, otherwise he would’ve been kicked to the curb a long time ago. Apparently, the Chois grew sick of his careless behaviour and gave him an ultimatum — clean up his mess or not be signed as an heir to the company. Jongho defied them like always, until his credit card ran empty and he realized his parents wouldn’t relent. He came crawling back with his tail between his legs and agreed to their proposition. You never understood him or why he acted the way he did. He had everything, practically born with a silver spoon in his mouth and it amazed you that the universe decided to tie your souls to each other. Jongho certainly wasn’t the soulmate you expected and your meeting wasn’t anywhere near the romantic encounter your parents experienced.

“Let’s take a seat before the aunties swammer us,” he whispered in your ear and led you to a table with a gentle nudge to the small of your back.

The touch sent plausible tingles of electricity up your spine and the intensity never wavered even when he withdrew his hand to pull out your chair for you — a great play to showcase his inner gentleman. He took his righteous place on your right side, but immediately regretted it. His ploy of escaping the aunties proved to be futile as Mrs. Kang, a good business partner of Jongho’s paternal grandparents, butted into your table and plopped down on the vacant seat beside you despite her name not being on the list and began shooting invasive questions. The older lady wanted to know everything about you — your age, name, workplace, how you knew Jongho, who your soulmate was, if you and Jongho were soulmates. She pulled on the imaginary rubber band attached to Jongho’s wrist until it snapped and rebounded against his skin.

“Mrs. Kang, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

The chatter around the table quieted down at Jongho’s sharp reply and you acted quickly to ease the tension. You placed your hand over his and gave it a firm squeeze. The motion averted his attention from Mrs. Kang to your stern gaze. A silent conversation ensued between you.

“Stop.”

“She’s the one who started it.”

“I don’t care. It won’t look good for you or your parents.”

Jongho eventually gave in and leaned back in his chair. The sudden cold shoulder on his part was him telling you he wasn’t pleased with the outcome. Not like you cared. Yes, your part of the deal was to be his fake-girlfriend, but you couldn’t just let him do as he wished to the people around him as it would reflect a bad light on you too.

“Welcome everyone to the Fashion For Aid charity event aimed at assisting children in group homes! I want to express my sincere gratitude to everyone for attending on this fine evening…”

The host was a man in his late sixties with a head full of hair and face clean of any. You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying as you weren’t well versed into the fashion world, but you did your best to at least look immersed in his speech. The man to your right wasn’t looking any more interested than you did and actually managed to sit through the first five minutes of the opening ceremony, until he got bored. After that, he played a game of what-could-Jongho-do-to-annoy-his-soulmate-in-the-fastest-way-possible? He did everything to get on your nerves — drumming his fingers against the edge of the table, staring at you then looking away when you met his gaze, loudly cracking his neck and fingers, and frequently checked his phone. The moment the host finished his lengthy speech and encouraged everyone to visit the table full of sweets and drinks placed on both sides of the room, Jongho jumped from his seat, hand already reaching into the inner pocket of his suit.

“If you’ll excuse me, a man’s gotta use the bathroom.”

“Jongho!” You hissed after him, but he either didn’t hear you or blatantly ignored you. As you moved to follow him, an inkling feeling telling you the bathroom was the last place he was headed for, a wrinkly hand landed on your thigh and successfully stopped you from going after him.

“Oh, honey, it is not worth stressing over him. Youngsters like that boy don’t change and he won’t do it even with a beautiful lady by his side.”

A bucket of water spilled over you and froze all forty-three muscles in your face. You somehow managed to force the corners of your mouth up and fake a smile, but the sincerity was not evident in your eyes.

“I, uhm, don’t want him to change. Really.” You added in the end as Mrs. Kang raised a brow in non-belief. “I like Jongho as he is and I don’t think he needs to change to fit in other people's crowded boxes.”

“If you say so, dear, but… if you’re interested, I have a nephew your age who would suit you much better than Mr. Choi.” She turned in her seat and scanned the crowd for said nephew. A fire lit beneath your chair as she began waving him over.

“Oh, Mrs. Kang, that's not necessary.” The reassuring words fell on deaf ears — literally — and although you weren’t too keen on lying, you already had one rich kid to look after. “I think I heard Jongho calling for me, I’ll be right back!”

Jongho was in fact not calling you over. Jongho was gone, disappeared into thin air and abandoned you in a room full of strangers. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t asked Mr. Oh to drive him someplace, leaving you to figure out your own ride home.

“Fucking hell, Jongho,” you muttered and weaved through the crowd of successful people and nepotism babies.

The venue was so packed with people you couldn’t even try searching for the bathrooms and opted to go back out again. The outside wasn’t void of people either, as some foreign faces stood socializing with each other, drinks in one hand and fat cigars squeezed between the pointer- and middle finger of their other hand. Not searching for more aunties or uncles to flag you down, you walked away from the people to a place that seemed vacant. Who would’ve known the universe was pulling on your red string and leading you in the direction of your soulmate. Turning the corner of the building, you stumbled over the view of Jongho crouched down behind a couple of taller bushes. Much like the other gentlemen, he too had a slim cigarette placed between his lips, dragging the poisonous smoke right into his lungs. You understood why out of all the places, he chose to smoke on the other side of the building. It was less prone to attract the paparazzi searching for something juicy to spread on social media.

Jongho didn’t kill the glowing stick as you appeared in his peripheral vision nor did he show a sign of acknowledging your sudden appearance. You didn’t go out of your way to chastise him for smoking in a public setting either, instead you took a stance beside him while he inhaled the last of the cancer-stick and looked straight ahead. It was already stuffy just standing there in silence, you didn’t need to stare at him with questions swimming in your eyes.

The warm sun of March was replaced by the round and bright moon, allowing a certain frost to the early spring breeze. You crossed your arms over your chest and caressed the exposed skin of your bicep with your thumb in a poor attempt at subduing the coldness. The dress was beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t made for such weather and you were questioning their professionalism as they didn’t give you a coat or any other outerwear. On the other hand, Jongho had been admiring you for the last couple of seconds since you took the place beside him and the sharp goosebumps littered on your body didn’t go unnoticed by him. He balanced the cigarette between his lips and slipped the suit jacket off himself. The rustle of clothes caught your attention and before you could realize what was happening, a newfound warmth wrapped around you followed by a mild fragrance of charcoal, pine needles and espresso.

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m not letting my date freeze her ass off.”

You tried ignoring the harsh squeeze of your heart and a pang of heat blossoming from the center of your chest, sprouting out to the rest of your body. This was just Jongho being kind, nothing more, nothing less. Yet your heart and soulmate mark thought otherwise. The stinging smell of his cigarette was a perfect distraction and your nose scrunched at the awful burn. Jongho needed all of three seconds to take one last drag of the stick, blow it away from your face and throw it to the ground, his expensive boot coming down to turn it to speckles of ash.

“I’m going back inside,” you announced after another minute of silence. “It won’t look good if both of us are missing.”

“Who cares what they think? They’ll always have something to say about me in the end so it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to prove them right, you know?”

You didn’t get another answer after that and decided to take your leave. A warm hand circles around your wrist, their thumb grazing the covered soulmate mark and stopping you in your steps. You turned around, Jongho’s hand still on you but his eyes avoiding yours at all cost.

“...Wanna get out of here?” He eventually asked.

Another beat passed and you pressed your lips together. “We really shouldn’t, Jongho, besides it’s against the contract.”

A genuine laugh escaped him and he moved toward the opposite side of the event, rounding the corner you didn't appear from. “Screw the contract.”

You quickly followed his head, intrigued and worried at where he was headed. Perhaps you got worked up for nothing as a bunch of expensive cars as well as limousines were parked in neat rows, the moonlight reflecting off their polished hoods and trunks.

“Where are you going?” You hissed and bunched one end of your dress to not accidentally step on it and twist your ankle.

“Why don’t you find out?”

How you managed to find yourself in this situation was beyond you. Not once was it stated in the contract that you would need to use Jongho’s death trap as a form of transportation, yet there you were sitting on the back of his motorcycle as he zoomed through the street. It was a miracle he successfully managed to sneak it into the parking lot without having any of the guards or chaperons turning him down. Then again, it was Choi Jongho they were dealing with. What Jongho wanted, Jongho got. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his midsection and your eyes squeezed shut, almost believing the danger of the situation would disappear if you couldn’t see the blur of scenery whiz past you.

Jongho smirked at the feel of you squeezing him to death and he purposefully revved the bike to go faster just to hear your squeaks of fear slip beneath your helmet. He wasn’t even going half the speed he was used to, but he felt just a twinge of remorse for you. The motorcycle slowed down and eventually stopped before a red light.

“You can open your eyes now,” he spoke into the built-in bluetooth in his helmet and placed his hand on your intertwined ones, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles in a soothing motion. The whipping wind was quickly drying your hands and he was cursing himself for the pair of gloves he forgot on the edge of his bed.

You did as told, albeit opening one eye at a time just to make sure he wasn’t sugarcoating the situation. He wasn’t and for once you were happy about being wrong.

“How much more?” You asked, your throat dry and beginning for a sip of water.

“We’re almost there.” The traffic light switched to yellow. “Hold on tight now.”

It took an eternity — twenty minutes — until Jongho put the motorcycle in neutral and turned off the throttle as well as the ignition switch, and allowed the weight of the vehicle to lean on the kickstand. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the gelled strands in the process and placed the helmet on the surface of the fuel tank. You slightly released your grip on him, but were still reluctant to move as you were afraid of somehow falling off the motorcycle or tipping the whole thing over and thus let your fingers hover over his sides. Jongho’s feet were planted on the ground for extra security and comfort, and threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see you sit stiff as a board. He turned away and brought his shoulders up to his ears as he quietly chuckled to himself. The helmet was still on your head and your cheeks mushed by the pillowy cushion inside, making you look like a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts.

“I thought you hated her?” He asked through his giggles.

“Huh?”

“The motorcycle. I thought you hated the motorcycle, besides can you let go off me now? Unless you like touching me–”

You didn’t need to hear more to fling your hands in the air. The abrupt motion almost caused you to fall back, hadn't you grabbed Jongho’s shoulders again. It was sheer luck that he was sturdy enough not to lean back from your harsh grip. He laughed again, a chuckle that brought his gummy smile into the moonlight. It was a sound you came to like and wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your life. The admission caused your ears to burn with embarrassment, and you were grateful that the soulmate connection was limited to the scribbled name on your wrist, not giving your other half the ability to feel your emotions or hear your thoughts.

“Okay, go like this. Place this foot,” he patted the side of your left thigh, “on the ground and swing your other leg over the bike, then carefully step off. Hold onto me until you’re completely off so you don’t fall.”

His instructions were easy to follow and you managed to get off without hurting yourself, him, or damaging his prized possession. The sound of water softly washing up against the sand reached your ears and it was only when you dismounted the motorcycle that you took in your surroundings. The view was nothing short of exceptional. You stood on the sidewalk with stairs leading straight down to the riverside area, giving you a perfect view of the river. It was slightly blurry and you couldn't quite figure out why. As your hand subconsciously reached up to rub your eyes, you accidentally brushed against the visor. Unsure how to remove the helmet without discomfort, you decided to simply slide the visor up instead.

The Mapo Bridge was even prettier at night, with its blue and purple lights twinkling beneath the dark sky. At least a hundred cars drove across the bridge in the few minutes since you arrived and the sound of their tires and whirring motors added a sense of tranquility to the setting. The prettiest of it all were the cherry blossoms slipping off the branches of the Prunus serrulata trees. The ground was covered in pink and white petals, and some even landed in your hair. It was magical.

It dawned on you just where Jongho had brought you — Yeouido Hangang Park. While you were busy taking in every little detail of the scenery, Jongho retrieved his keys from the ignition and stopped beside you. He buried them in the pockets of his pants to prevent you from noticing he was fidgeting with the keys, thus keeping his dignity intact. He couldn’t have you going around thinking you were the reason behind the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and whether that was true or not would stay with Jongho, and Jongho only.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out.

Jongho hummed in agreement, yet his eyes didn’t budge from your form. It didn’t matter that you wore stiletto heels with a designer dress, a suit jacket multiple sizes too big for you and a sports helmet on your head — you looked as beautiful as the first day he met you, all those years ago in high school. He cleared his throat and stepped in front of you, the pads of his fingers gently grazing the skin beneath your chin as he unclasped the straps of your helmet. The little click snapped your attention to his eyes full of focus that shifted from your chin up to your lips, and lastly your eyes. As if stuck in a trance unable to look away, you drowned in the warmest hue of brown molded out of the richest cacao beans in the world. Jongho slowly took hold of your helmet and began pushing it upwards, but with a gentleness you hadn’t witnessed before. He was so careful and the imagination of having your head ripped off your body didn’t come to life.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he successfully removed the gear.

“No worries… I’m sure my mom would have my head if I let a lady walk around in designer clothes with a cheap helmet on.”

Although his intentions weren’t to tickle your belly, the sound of your laughter spread a fervor through his body and shone light on the darkest parts in him. It was contagious and he found his own lips curling up, eyes cheesing and that angelic voice of his handing out gleeful melodies to the few people taking a late-night stroll in the park.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.” He held out his hand for you to take and you did without a second thought. “I meant your heels, but lucky for you I have two hands.”

You began withdrawing your hand, but Jongho had already laced your fingers together and refused to let go.

“You're unbelievable,” you muttered, pretending the heat of embarrassment wasn't attacking your cheeks.

“I could live with that.”

Jongho pulled you along toward the flight of stairs and patiently walked with you. It didn’t matter that it took five minutes to reach the bottom because he was with you every step of the way and if you said anything otherwise, Jongho would’ve argued the night was still young and that the five minutes were worth it as he got to spend them with you. He was lucky his parents chose a candidate who wasn’t insecure of themselves to the point they apologized for every minor inconvenience, because Jongho wasn’t sure how the sweet words would fit his unruly persona. The first three steps on the sand made you change your mind and you quickly removed the heels, flexing your stiff feet and releasing a breath of relief. The expensive pair of footwear were handed to Jongho who hooked his pointer- and middle finger in the heel counter while his other set of fingers were still braided with yours.

“It’s nice here,” you admitted and looked out on the river. The other side was covered with a bunch of buildings, much like the ones behind you, and looked like a scene straight out of a movie. Where the lights of the apartments, universities and hospitals took on the looks of the stars above.

“Mmmmm, it’s quiet and empty.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

Jongho pondered for a moment. “Sometimes… I can think easier when there aren’t a bunch of people breathing down my neck, plus the ride here helps me clear my head.”

“It’s overwhelming, right? I mean being in the spotlight constantly and having your every move watched from an early age, no?”

He shrugged. “It was at first, but… I stopped caring after a while and people stopped expecting things from me.”

You hummed in understanding and let the gentle waves wash over the conversation. The curiosity you once carried with you concerning Jongho’s defying personality simmered down to nothing and you realized it wasn’t a topic you should venture in on just yet. Instead, you changed it to something less serious.

“You know, I didn’t think we’d see each other after high school, but look at us now. Holding hands beneath the stars… Are you perhaps starting to like me, Jjong?”

One end of Jongho's lips curled into a shit-eating grin and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, and you couldn't tell if it was from the nickname or from bringing up old high school memories. Jongho’s walking slowed down until both feet were planted on the sand, not bugging despite you being half a step ahead of him. You looked over your shoulder to see what was the reason for stopping.

“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered by the fact that you think I’m just now starting to like you.”

He shortened the distance between you, leaving barely any room for air to squeeze past your bodies. His thumb traced a never-ending circle across the back of your hand and your heels had long since dropped onto the sand, giving him the freedom to cradle the side of your face. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart seemed to sprout a pair of angel wings, soaring in your chest at the contact of his skin on yours.

"To answer your question, soulmate, I’ve liked you since the day I saw you in that gymnasium." Jongho's eyes traveled over your face, giving each feature and detail equal attention, as if he wanted to memorize your beauty as though it were a cheat sheet for an exam. "You were dressed in that cute school uniform, your hair braided and kept out of your face, and you looked absolutely sick to your stomach. That’s when I knew our souls were made for each other. I didn’t even need to know your name or look at your wrist. I just knew."

The world went silent around you. The sloshing of water, the chorus of cute laughter and the moving vehicles were muffled sounds that didn’t reach your ears. A furious heat crawled up your back and neck, nipping at your cheeks until you were on the brink of burning up like a firework, but the rest of your body — your fingers, toes, nose and ears — were freezing cold. A massive star nearing the end of its life cycle suddenly exploded and your hearing came back. The air that had caught in your throat was let out as Jongho’s words settled in your mind.

“Jongho,” you lamely whispered in return.

The secret you had carried for years turned out not to be much of a secret after all, and the hundreds, thousands, of people you thought you were fooling day in and day out weren’t deserving of that title. Because the biggest fool out of them all was you.

“You knew all along?”

Jongho shrugged and tore his eyes from your dumbfounded expression down to your wrist. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” His thumb slid up beneath your detachable sleeves, exposing the name you kept hidden for years. “I mean, it isn’t everyday I hear about a pretty girl with my name tattooed on her wrist and hers on mine.”

You didn’t know what to focus on first. The fact that he called you a pretty girl, his thumb caressing your soulmate mark or him knowing you were destined together since high school. Your tongue darted out to lick at your bottom lip and his eyes were quick to follow the brief movement. He swallowed thickly and forced them up again.

“I take it you knew too?”

You nodded in return. “When they called out your name in the assembly and I caught the side of your face.”

“I’m happy you didn’t approach me then,” he suddenly admitted and chuckled as your brows pinched together. “Fate brought us together in the end.”

“But we aren’t together-together.”

“Last time I checked, you pretty much signed a contract to date me.”

“Fake-date you.”

The tongue poking the inside of his cheek looked ten times more attractive beneath the moonlight, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand through his hair and kiss that darned smirk off his face. Perhaps the soulmate bond went further than a name scribbled on the outer layer of your skin, because your wish wasn’t too far from Jongho’s. He, too, wanted to get a taste of your lips. To have some remnants of your lipstick smudge against his and guess the flavor of it — maybe strawberry or cherry, though he always took you for a coconut girl.

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Okay, fake-date then… Better?”

Not in the least.

“Much better.”

“It’s not for me,” he quickly added.

“Why?”

Jongho inhaled a sharp intake of air and waited, playing the scene out in his mind and weighing out his options before puking his thoughts and feelings out in an almost vacant park. “Because… I want to do stuff with you. To hold your hand, take you out on dates, kiss you, hug you and just be with you like a real couple. I want to know that the look you have when you’re with me is real, that it isn’t just a job for you. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”

“I have always wanted you,” you confessed shakily. “Before I even knew you, Jongho. There was nothing more I wanted than to find my soulmate and that hasn’t changed. Even when I did find you and lost you at the same time, that desire still lived within me. It still does… And when I found out you were the rich kid who needed a fake-girlfriend, it felt like the world was laughing in my face, but I realized it was giving me a second chance. Us a second chance.”

Now it was Jongho’s turn to look dumbfounded. You took his silence as a sign to continue.

“And all you had to do, Jjong, was ask. Even now. Just ask for what you want.”

The man stared at you as if heaven were beneath your fingertips, as if a single touch of your finger would bring him eternal peace and serenity. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and no one else could compete with your beauty — even if they were sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Jongho was never a listener — always defying and doing as he pleased. Yet this one time, the one time, he would be darned if he didn’t.

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The stars aligned as his lips gently pressed against yours. Jongho was right, you tasted like coconut and it had him craving for more, yet the fear of pushing you away was greater than his need. The fingers of your free hand tangled into the side of his shirt to steady your swirling mind, but did little for your erratically beating heart. Jongho wasn’t rough nor eager to ravage your mouth with his tongue, rather on the contrary. It was a soft and lingering kiss that tested the waters. You parted to inhale air before diving in for another kiss, this one a little more urgent and daring than the first, but equally sweet. Jongho’s tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you tilted your head sideways while allowing him access. Even now with his tongue exploring your mouth, the kiss didn’t change from intimate to hungry. A fire was set in your lungs that ached for oxygen and you were left with no choice but to break apart. Jongho rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing and heavy gasps for air fanning your faces.

“You drive me crazy,” he said between breaths.

“I’m not… doing anything.” You had to fight the smile threatening to dance across your lips. This was a whole new side to Jongho, a side you had never seen before but wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Precisely and you still make me lose my mind.”

The stubborn smile eventually broke through and Jongho huffed out a chuckle at the gleeful expression. I’m-not-doing-anything his ass. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek once and twice, but froze in motion as you asked him a question.

“Did you really mean everything you said earlier? About the contract, I mean.”

“Yes,” he answered in a heartbeat. “If I could, I would terminate the contract, but keep this. Keep us.”

A beat passed and then another. Your thoughts were flying wild, narrowly avoiding each other and the explosion that would ensue.

“Let’s do it then,” you eventually said. That was the second bravest thing you had done in your life. The first would be signing the contract while running on four hours of sleep. “Let’s do it for real.”

Jongho gauged your expression, searching for any sign of uncertainty or regret. When he couldn’t find even a hint of either, he pressed his lips against yours. Affection, joy, and excitement poured into the kiss, and Jongho hoped you would feel at least half of it. Unbeknownst to the new couple, two people stood by Jongho’s motorcycle. The man wore a fancy black suit, while the woman’s dress elegantly hugged her curves as she stood effortlessly in her heels. A set of black sunglasses obscured their eyes, despite the fact that the sun had long since exchanged places with the moon. The pair seemed out of place in Yeouido Hangang Park surrounded by people dressed in casual clothing. Passersby noticed it too, shooting them strange looks, but neither of them cared. Their attention was fixed on the couple brought together by destiny.

“I knew she was the one for him,” the man proudly admitted and puffed out his chest.

The woman beside him scoffed. “Please, I was the one who found her Linkedin and recognized her name from Mr. Choi’s wrist.”

The pair gave them one last look before turning around and clambering back into the limousine, which drove them straight to the charity event. They had left the party in a hurry the moment they noticed the absence of the successor of Choi Clothes and his fake girlfriend — or should they say, his real girlfriend?

#feedback: pretend you love me #[☀️] my esther #ateez x reader #choi Jongho x reader #ateez #choi jongho #fanfiction #drabble #oneshot

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wotay27166 · 3 days ago

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Goodbye Sparklecare.

This will be my final post for actual for real this time.

What can I say that hasn't been said already? I've done my part. I've learnt everything that I needed. It's not the complete sense of closure I'd want but I don't think that's something I can get. I have to accept that. This has all been an incredibly painful past 2 days for me.

In a way, I grew up alongside Sparklecare. I was a minor when I was there during the preboot days, and now I'm an adult with an income. An income that I used in part to support Kittycorn for 2 years. Kittycorn's work was formative to me as an artist and a writer. I related to a lot of the characters and the plots because I too was a traumatized mentally ill/disordered person who had suffered at the hands of both a society and a medical system that did not treat me with dignity.

8 years of my life this comic was a part of.

Everyone has already said everything about Kittycorn the person, her actions, and her predatory associates so I'd like to talk about something else.

Sparklecare as a piece of art

...and how it just speaks to the lack of true artistry that everything about it ceases to hold up entirely once you know the Real Intent.

Because it's insincere.

If you essentially have to deceive your audience to get them to care, you have failed. If you're going to pull deception on your audience it has to be intentional to the experience. You can have stories that are fucked up, transgressive, and taboo succeeding in being fantastic stories in spite of those things as they wear their heart on their sleeve, genuine in what they want to convey. Sparklecare and all its surrounding media is none of that when Kittycorn put on a fake safe persona with a fetish mining work full of dog whistles and falsehoods.

When you set a standard for what your work is and what to expect, it is a MASSIVE 'Fuck you' to your audience to go against what you supposedly stood for the entire time otherwise. I guess a kind of similar example I can bring up is exactly why people hate the ending of Bunny Drop so much. It goes beyond the incest as a presence, it's more about the betrayal of expectation I'd say. It forces you to retroactively look at everything differently and it just ruins it entirely. Every single familial interaction in Cometcare is now impossible to see as just wholesome familial bonding, it's all warped to hell and back right down to the extended lore and themes. The very existence of 'secret canon' or whatever excuse tampers the whole. If it was like a fan-made thing it'd be like whatever, but this is the actual creator - this is a part of her vision. Right from the source.

But even once you realize this, it still doesn't work because it feels unnatural like what is actually wanting to be said/done is being held back. So you're stuck in this awful middle ground of a horrific realization.

The point is, people who aren't upfront about this sort of shit will never make good art that's worth remembering. In a few years no one will give a fuck about this comic outside of its controversy. That is the legacy one leads through insincerity. Even if it does remain it will never again reach the height or momentum it once did.

If you really want to really 'do whatever you want forever', you have to do it with honesty. You can't hedge around it or downplay what you actually want to do. All you will do is build yourself a mounting wall of expectations you know you will never meet because it's all a lie. For all Kittycorn saying in the past she never wanted it to be popular or get the attention it did... she kept pandering to the popular instead of doing what she actually wanted to do, and that's make a fucked up incest comic. It's because the allure of material reward of a large safe fandom that gives you fanart, recognition, and money is rewarding rather than making something real.

That hypothetical fucked up incest magnum opus, I wouldn't be apart of that audience nor would a lot of people in the current Sparklecare fandom. It is an alienating thing to create just purely based on what it is and if that's the 'whatever you want' to make 'forever', it is something one must accept. It also takes a lot of skill to make a work that an audience that otherwise would never engage with something like that to still enjoy/see the merits of it in terms of a piece of art/story. Good writers are perverts, but not all perverts are good writers. If you're not putting your entire ass in everything, the ass crack will show. As an artist who willingly puts their art out into the world and curates a specific audience and tone with their work... how she did not expect any of it to backfire is beyond me.

With an art and writing style that lends itself to a more juvenile audience with how very 'teaching a lesson' focused things are (even the incest comics are like this) it does not naturally lend itself to nuanced discussion nor the sea of depth in terms of character complexity. Sure the characters are multi faceted, but their actions are very black and white with the creator very not open to alternative interpretations that she cannot control within the audience to the point of distress (see people having a problem with Doom in a relationship with former patients he inadvertently aided in torturing by being complicit in the system that enabled it, for example). Even if it turns out if, for example, Sly is supposed to be seen as victim of her own illness (OCD acting on intrusive thoughts) it doesn't magically alleviate her of the actions portrayed nor disgust overshadowing sympathy. There is nothing Kittycorn can do to repair the reputation of this character within her art.

She is still calling the rampant incest canon just a comfort thing and thinks that being like 'umm all the canons are separate it's all AUs' changes intent and mindset in any way. You can't magically just switch off part of your brain when working on certain things - that's not how it works. It's not even like I can't fathom or understand where the coping comes from - a world where what if this awful thing that happened to me wasn't awful and I can reframe it in a positive way for myself so the abuse I endured hurts less. What if the codependent trauma bond meant so much more than a vessel of having power over someone in a life devoid of it? Potentially, a work like that could be quite profound because incest as both a moral dilemma and as a form of abuse, there is no easy 'out' when dealing with it. Themes of generational trauma, legacy, power, sexism, desperation...

EDIT: Okay never mind, that entire last three paragraphs before this one was written before the giant ass Sly x Eve defense and... no one is misrepresenting anything. It turns out it is full on incest romanticization in the most literal way. Incest true love. There's no nuance here whatsoever. Which, damn, I... I guess I'm truly speechless here. I was expecting like ANYTHING I guess but it's just... NOTHING...? I feel like an idiot. Fell for it again award received by me!!

I would like to formally apologize to the Coffin of Andy and Leyley - I didn't give you enough credit.

8 fucking years I invested into this shitty fucking comic and it turns out I was reading way WAY too deeply into EVERYHTING. FOR YEARS. Sparklecare was only good because I autistically indulged and overanalyzed everything into thinking there was more here being said and presented than it ever actually was.

I need to sit down.

But the key to that is sincerity.

Which is what Kittycorn lacks. It extends beyond her art as even her 'apology' posts are insincere. I don't think Kittycorn understands that no amount of 'actually you are supposed to interpret it like this' will change people's perception purely because of the sensitive nature of the topic at hand. You can be a big massive pervert with big massive pervert parts in you story and it could potentially have merit as art, but it has to be sincere all the way through. You can take perverse to mean purposefully contrarian or sexually taboo- either way I feel it applies. If you can't even be honest about the sorts of people you hang around with nor the way you approach your very public persona...

How can anyone trust a word you say? When all you've done so far is lie? At what point does the audience stop accepting the 'Fell for it again' award?

Why should anyone view your art as anything but a farce?

Anyway, that's my ramble about art.

Wotay27166 signing off for the last time, peace ✌️

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campgender · 2 days ago

Note

Hiiiiiii I was thinking about it the other day & I know you talk a lot about like, unlearning purity culture, all the terrible and complicated and strange (in a bad way) versions of sex that you've had, etc.

I've never asked before, I don't think: what do you like, get off to, what turns you on, etc etc.? Any particular bloggers (especially particular posts!) or SWers on here or Instagram that you really like?

I hope you're having a whimsical & sexy time out here <3

omg this is such a lovely question & one i've been turning over in my mind like a hard candy in my mouth since you sent it. (not about sex specifically, just in general) my husband says i'm really good at asserting "negative" boundaries (don't do X) & really bad at recognizing much less expressing positive boundaries (i need Y). this ask made me think about that — it's a lot easier for me to talk about things i wish people would stop doing than things i wish they would do, if that makes sense.

i also definitely get a weird fear of like, bragging or something? (as a fundamentalist kid i had a whole complex about not bragging oh my god) if i talk too much about the sex i'm having that's going well? which is probably not serving me bc i learned so much from other people's discussions of scenes that went well especially outside the like norm of represented dynamics if that makes sense.

all of which is to say i've been trying to give this question the consideration it deserves❣️ here's what i've got:

katherine angel writes that sex is a conversation, & i love to talk. i love the process of it, not in the sense of being scripted but the exact opposite, an uncovering, the act of learning more about someone, figuring out how we fit together.

i genuinely love negotiation, i think it can be a really intimate & connecting experience. i always feel so restored by negotiation "even" when it isn't followed by sex/scene with someone. a couple months ago someone said what we'd done was their new standard for negotiation & i'm still riding that high.

i love giving people gender euphoria! i love when someone says i make them feel butch or when someone tries new pronouns with me. whether it's through language or sexual position or dynamic or more intangible mystical energy shit — look, the secret is, i love making people feel good, it's just an urge that only expresses itself in specific ways, which exist outside most people's ideas of sexual giving, because it isn't physical.

how do i put this — idk if this makes sense, but — i am erotically interested in emotionally bolstering people, which can look a lot of different ways. a lot of the people i dom for feel sated or fulfilled or whatever you want to call it when they can let go of their carefully maintained "outside" persona and just be a mess, physically or emotionally or all around, so i've come to really value & respect that. looove when somebody wants me to make them cry. i think of it as a sort of homebound magic, being like, what can't you be in the world? & then building them the space to be it. Omise’eke Natasha Tinsley in The Color Pynk says Janelle Monaé's music video for "Pynk" built a rest stop for Black femmes; kind of a lofty goal but that's always what it comes back to for me, with art & with sex & with tumblr posting: building a rest stop.

(i feel like a bit of a femme cliché sometimes but whatever lol)

i love being surprised not by content but by feeling, & similarly i love moments when someone tells me they didn't know sex could be like that, that they could feel this way or that someone else could feel this way about them — could get off to their stomach or them fully clothed or whatever else they've been told isn't worthy of erotic interest.

recently a play partner was talking to me about how they've never encountered or heard of someone being genuinely as turned on as i am by watching someone practice their craft — not interrupting them to fuck but the work being the fucking. & i was like that before the pgad, in undergrad i burned alive watching this guy play the violin, but now if we want i can get off just looking. i love to look. & i love the intimacy of someone sharing some dear skill or part of themself for my use & pleasure, whether it's something they're proud of (tying rope; building model kits; assembling furniture) or something that challenges them (a favorite being to hold still).

more broadly i enjoy petplay & dollification & the whole consensual objectification vibe. & i 💖 making decisions for people & telling people what to do. love to give a little task when that's what somebody's into

i haven't been very active on my nsfw tumblr in a while bc i've been too much of a raw nerve & was getting upset by the overwhelming assumptions of domtop/sub bottom in queer & t4t spaces, so i'm pretty out of touch with most people's current content & urls, but i know i've loved @nylonguilt's work for years, & @blushedfemmes has long been the blueprint for high femme, dom bottom posting. oh & i recently discovered @dombottom4subtop! really great compilation of posts there

ty again for the ask❣️ as always would love to hear your thoughts 🫶

#small-strong-bookish-butch #asks #D/s #why not take me now as i am?

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 2 days ago

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WIP Wednesday ~ WIP File Game

Um hi there. *waves nervously* Soooo over the past two months, I've been tagged multiple times by different people to partake in various WIP Wednesday posts and WIP file games. Sadly, I haven't had as much time for fandom as I would have liked recently, and I've just let those tags sit there unanswered. Thank you for thinking of me @mega-aulover, @unnamednarrator, and @thesweetnessofspring.

I'm going to use this post to answer both types of tags, and the people I tag in turn, please choose which version you'd rather play, play both!, or play neither.

First... a snippet from chapter 40 of Spellbound:

“Peeta! Let me go!” There’s the metallic thunk of a heavy round. Hands yanking on my wrists. I stare at the body. His jaw blown off, silencing him forever. Eyes empty. Hollow. Gone. “Peeta?” That’s when the trembling starts. I blink and the shadows recede. His face gone, replaced with Haymitch’s skull gleaming oddly in the flashlight on the cave floor. The jawbone fallen at an odd angle. Fingers dig into my wrists. Deep enough that it hurts. The pain in my wrists and my knee somehow grounds me. Pulls me away from that day in the sun baked streets and back into this one. “Peeta?” Katniss asks. I can barely make out her shape in the gloom, and I shake my head. Who dropped the flashlight? When did we wind up on our knees? “I’m fine.”

And now for the more difficult part. Here's a list of my current WIP files. If it's listed as a story on AO3, I hope to finish it this year. If it's listed as not yet posted to AO3, then I'm hoping to start posting it/finish it this year. The third list is a bunch of random ideas that may never see the light of day, but I've included them for funsies.

Feel free to send an ask to receive a snippet if I have one, a summary, a long winded excuse for why it's still not done yet... I'm working tonight but I have tomorrow off and will answer asks then!

Stories on AO3:

Outside Chance

Outside Expectations

Outside the Lines

Spellbound

Where the Stars Crumble to Life

One Last Hope

Everything You Are

Ampersand (Series)

Fickle Games

No Reason

Holiday Havoc Ensues

Smutercising

Stories Not on AO3:

Bound to Get Burned

Caught in the Net of the World

The Courtship of Lambs

Crush My Bones with Bittersweet

Grief Catches Us All

Hand porn

In the Waiting Dark (the Red Moon Rises)

Kiss Me In the Dark

Making Dents in the Wall

Septimus

Sin Bin

Small Turn Ons

Spiral & Collission / Ellipses & Ignition

Tangled AU

Through the Eyes of My Love

To Know, Not to Be Known

Turning of the Seasons

You + Me

Random Files:

Anyways

Arrive Broken

The Art of Peeling Pearls

Autumn Delight

Awkward

Bed Head

Bend Me, Shake Me Any Way You Want Me

The Cold Side of the Bed

Dear Diary

Everlark on the Prairie

Fluffy Menace

Full Zeroes

Holiday Pet Sitters

Hypocrites

Kiss Me in the Dark

Kissing Clause

Last Dance

Long Have I Waited, My Darling

Love in the Library

Nude Dude Foods

On Lockdown

Peeta POV

Scrawled Upon My Skin

Shattered Into Ash

Seven Feathers

The Strong Arm of Justice

The Touch of Time

Under the Pink Sky

Yes, Chef

And Finally, for the Truly Brave (I mean it, don't do this if you have very clear lines of what you find acceptable in fanfiction), I will answer questions about my folder titled "What Is This Shit?!?!", where I put all of the weird, dark, morally questionable fic ideas that I'm certain about 95% of you all would absolutely hate. Actually some of them are not that bad, but others really are a dumpster fire. Send a number between 1 and 66 for a potentially unpleasant surprise, if you dare.

Now for the tags! I tag @mega-aulover @unnamednarrator, and @thesweetnessofspring because it's been over a week since each of you tagged me mwahahaha. Also tagging @shesasurvivor @louezem and @burkygirl (I've seen you lurking in my notes, don't think I didn't. Hope you've had a restful break from fandom and glad to see you around here again.)

#wip wednesday #my wips #wip file game

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lilgarbitch · 23 hours ago

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Running in Circles - Eight

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: Depression, FP (favorite person) thoughts, past addiction, mentions of losing a loved one (I think that’s all but please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 10.3k

Author’s Note: I had most of his written and ready to go before I took a break from posting. I went back and forth for a long time, debating if I wanted to keep her backstory like this, but I want a complex MC. I want to bring awareness to topics like these and I want people to see inside the mind of those who struggle with things like this. (Also very sorry I keep changing the names of characters. Y/N’s ex is now Chris, because I hated the name Ronnie.) (Also I’m working on editing the pictures and shit for the past chapters so sorry that things look different)

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @bloody-spades @blade-dressed-in-red @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare @lacy1986 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @death-ofpeace-ofmind @heyyoplayer

Part Seven

Y/N

“Guys, stop, you’re gonna break it!” I laughed out, yelling at Cal and Damien, who were messing around with the control board in the studio.

The boys ended up coming over to Dave’s house, and after about twenty minutes of them freaking out about meeting Dave and all of Lorna Shore, followed by walking through the house in complete awe, they became quickly acquainted… a little too quickly.

The group’s personalities were a little too alike, and now I was back to babysitting multiple grown men. I had to ask Dave to follow my idiots to make sure they didn’t break anything of his, but he just laughed me off, even though I was completely serious.

Now, my boys, Dave, Will, Moke, and I were all hanging out in the studio as the rest of the guys did who knows what. I’m afraid I’m ever going to leave this room. My boys got a little too excited seeing how professional everything was, and Dave, enthusiastic at the thought of showing more people his things, told them to have fun. Which wasn’t the best idea, seeing that they were now touching absolutely anything they could get their hands on, and I could feel my blood pressure rising.

Will and I just sat back and watched as Cal, Finn, and Damien treated the room like a zoo, and Dave and Moke explained what everything did. I couldn’t have been more stressed out, knowing how they treat their own instruments, but Will did his best to keep me calm, saying that if they did do something they weren’t supposed to, Dave would let them know. And I was realizing just how little our band knew about things like this. When we produced our music, we ran shitty software on Cal’s PC after recording in a “studio” at the local music shop, thanks to Damien knowing a guy who worked there and was willing to hook us up. While we were technically under a label with our “manager” coming from them, it wasn’t a big one that helped us with any production or promotion. We did that all ourselves. And it was also now hitting me that the only reason why we were even able to join such a large tour was because Noah probably begged his band and management to set it up.

“Y/N, why don’t you check more things out? I’ve only seen you in the booth,” Moke shouted towards me in the midst of the chaos, pulling me out of my overwhelming thoughts, “Do you play any instruments? Or only vocals?”

“Oh, she plays a mean guitar,” Damien answered for me, making me shake my head.

“I do not. I’m so bad at it, which is why I only sing on stage. But I used to play the piano,” I answered. Dave walked past me to his wall of guitars.

“Well, I don’t have a piano…yet. But why don’t you show us what you can play?” He said as he grabbed a guitar off the shelf and walked it over to me. I eyed the guitar, then him, then at the rest of the guys staring at me.

“Why am I the one who’s always put on the spot?” I semi-joked as I took the guitar from him, staring at him apprehensively.

I stared down at the guitar in my hands. I didn’t want the boys knowing that I actually really enjoyed guitars, knowing how the whole vocals thing went earlier in the tour, but I couldn’t help but admire the Taylor 814ce. One that was handed to me like it wasn’t a dream to touch, let alone play.

I was never confident in my guitar playing, especially around Finn and Calum, who could pick up any song you throw at them and perfect it in a week, and how they always helped me if I needed someone to play a few chords to help me with getting a song worked out in my head, so I never really felt like I was one to admire such a beauty if I wasn’t the most informed in the group. But this was a beauty.

After a few moments of taking in the amazing condition Dave kept his instruments in, I finally turned back to the boys.

“So uh…what do I play?” I ask sheepishly. I don’t even know if I remember any of the songs I learned all those years ago, and being put on the spot really wasn’t helping me think.

“What’s that one song you always used to play in highschool? I remember when I showed you my first Fender, you started playing that one song…uhhh ‘You’re only six feet tall’ or something like that?” Finn suggested, making me chuckle.

“That’s an easy song, definitely not one I’d choose to show off my talent if I had any,” I reply with a smirk.

“Still, I haven’t heard you play or even sing that song in too long. Give it a go. Please?” I looked at him for a moment before rolling my eyes and getting the guitar in position.

It had been years since I played ‘On the Brightside’, but it’s just repeating chords, so stare down at the strings and try to wrack my brain of which chords those were.

I begin strumming what I thought might be them, but it still sounded off. My hand instantly went to the pegs, before pausing and looking up at Dave, silently asking permission to butcher the tuning of his gorgeous guitar for a single song, but he surprisingly nodded.

As I start tuning the E string, finally hearing some familiarity in an E flat, it all starts coming back to me. I eventually tune every string to a flat, and start strumming a few chords, making sure that I actually remember them correctly. Once I got the hang of it, I began.

I met a man of two feet tall

This man was quite ambitious

In a world that is so vicious to us all

I said, “Hi,” as he replied

He said, “Listen to these words that I have lived by my whole life”

”You’re only as tall as your heart will let you be

And you’re only as small as the world will make you seem

When the going gets rough and you feel like you may fall

Just look on the brightside, you’re roughly six feet tall”

I couldn’t hit Christofer Drew’s high notes, but I continue strumming and bringing this song back into my heart. Not that I normally can forget songs, but this one will forever be ingrained into my brain. I’ve lived by these words since the day I first heard this song, and it was one of the first ones I ever tried learning on guitar when I was young. It has been quite some time since I’ve played it, but now that I'm doing it again, it’s going to be a while before I forget it.

I am a man of six feet tall

Just looking for some answers

In a world that answers none of them at all

I’ll say, “Hi,’ but not reply

To the letters that you write

Because I’ve found some piece of mind

Cause I’m only as tall as my heart will let me be

And I’m only as small as the world will make me seem

And when the going gets rough and I feel like I may fall

I’ll look on the brightside, I’m roughly six feet tall

I softly hold out the last note and let the chord ring out for a few moments before pressing my hand down and stopping it, looking up at everyone. Moke, Dave and Damien clap with an impressed look on their faces, Damien’s being a little smug, as Finn and Cal give me a pleased smile, seemingly happy to hear me play again.

“Damn, dude, is there anything you can’t do?” Will asked with a laugh beside me, making me chuckle.

“It’s a seven chord song. Damien could probably learn it,” I tease, causing an offended “Hey!” from Damien. Will pats my shoulder with a smile.

“I’m serious. While you’d definitely need lessons to do anything near Adam, Andrew or Finn’s level, I’m convinced there’s nothing you can’t easily learn.”

“Oh, there’s a lot I can’t learn,” I said with an eye roll. One thing being how to stop messing shit up in my life, but I don’t say that out loud.

The boys go back to chatting together, occasionally mentioning how we should find a studio as nice as this to practice in New York, but I stay out of the conversation. I do my best to retune Dave’s guitar before sliding it back on its stand, not wanting to feel like I messed with it too much.

As I make my way back to my seat, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I slip it out and unlock it as I sit back down.

Matty- Hey, sorry I missed your texts. The guys and I have been spending time with Noah. I don’t want to get into it too much over text, but he seems to be regretting that party. A lot.

Matty- Sucks I couldn’t have met Will and hung out with everyone, but since we’re home and have some sense of normalcy back after about a month, we were hoping that might help him out a little bit.

I stare at Matt’s texts for a few moments, trying to understand. He regrets it? I’m assuming he means sleeping with that girl, since I haven’t heard about him doing anything else stupid, but is he really regretting it that badly?

Yeah, it upset me and threw me back into a bit of a rut, but those are easily triggered when my feelings get hurt. And I already knew that trying anything with Noah would put my feelings on the line, especially going so many years thinking of him rather than getting out there and moving on from him or my ex.

I sigh and think for a moment. I don’t know if Noah found out anything about Will and me yet, but I don’t want him regretting doing something we both did. Not that I can truly justify our actions, seeing as we both made bad decisions, but it’s not like it ruined everything between us, especially since this sounds like he regrets it because he wants to work on us, not because he had a one night stand. Hopefully.

But if he regrets it, that might mean he hasn’t heard anything yet about Will and me. Will that crush him? I keep ruminating in the thoughts until I’m pulled out by a hand touching my shoulder. I glance over and see Will, looking at me a little concerned.

“Everything alright?” he asks with a quiet voice, not wanting to bring attention to me just in case. I do my best to give him a small smile and nod.

“Yeah, there’s just something I have to do,” I reply softly, patting his hand before standing up.

I make my way out into the hallway outside the studio, trying not to look upset so no one questions me, and pull up my contacts on my phone.

I type in his name and click on it, bringing it up to my ear as it starts ringing. I glance around the hallway, not really wanting anyone getting any juicy gossip from the call and spreading anything, especially since Will’s whole band doesn’t fully understand what’s happening between the two of us.

After it seemed like he wasn’t going to pick up, I finally hear Ruffilo’s voice on the other line.

“Hello?” He answers, seemingly confused on why I called.

“Hey”

“Hey..uh…Is everything good?” It sounded like he almost said my name, probably refraining if he was around Noah.

“Yeah. Well..kinda. Matt told me why he was busy today and I just… I have a few questions and you’re the one who will have the most answers.”

“Hold on,” I hear shuffling on the other line, probably him getting further from the guys so they don’t hear him talking about Noah, “Alright. What’s up?”

“I really don’t know how to ease into it, but does Noah know about Will and me?”

“I mean, pretty sure he has assumptions. No one’s been confirming or denying anything, worried it’ll upset him more,” he answers with a sigh.

“Okay. I just didn’t want it to hurt him more if the information surprised him later. Another thing. I obviously don’t exactly know why he’s regretting the party, and I’m not sure how to get this information to him, but could he know that I’m not upset?”

“You’re not?”

“I mean, I really have no right to be. We both made bad decisions in the last week. Hell, we both made bad decisions since that night in the bar, but I don’t want it hurting him. What happened between us from the beginning was a little insane, and truthfully, I don’t think there’s a right way for either of us to have dealt with it, so I want him to know that I’m not upset with the decision he made. I do think it was dumb, mainly because it seemed like it was out of self destruction, but so was mine, so it’d be pretty hypocritical.”

I hear him sigh on the other end, making me bite my lip as more stress seemed to fill me.

“Listen, I’m really sorry to be putting you in the middle of this. I would tell Matt, but I don’t exactly know Noah’s feelings about him right now. And I know, that out of any of the boys, you have his best interests in mind, so-“

”Y/N, it’s okay,” he says, cutting me off on my tangent, “I’m just thinking of the best way to bring it up. But I’ll tell him. Not only do I want to see him back to his old self, I really want you two to make up. Especially with how happy he was when he knew we’d be touring together. So don’t worry, I’ll do my job and hopefully we can finally hang out as a group again soon.”

”Thank you, Nick. I really hope him and I can clear the air soon and be able to be around each other again without any tension. I miss hanging out with you four.”

”And we miss you. Alright, I’ll go sit him down and talk to him and let you know how it goes. But I gotta get out there soon before they come looking for me.”

”Bye, Nick.” I say with a small laugh.

“Bye, Y/N” And then the line goes dead.

I let out a sigh and stare up at the ceiling, praying to whoever the hell is listening that I can fix all of this the best I can.

Noah

I walk around the corner into the kitchen, needing to get a drink, when I hear Ruffilo’s voice. I don’t hear another, so he must be on the phone. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but as I made my way to the fridge, he was in perfect distance for my snooping ears.

“We miss you...and talk to him...Bye, Y/N” I manage to pick up, with my ears instantly catching her name at the end.

Why was he talking to Y/N in secret? Miss her? Talk to who? Me? I stood there with a confused look on my face until he came back through the hall, stopping once he saw me. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it, seemingly not knowing what to say.

“Was that Y/N?” I ask, trying to keep any tension out of my tone.

”Uh.. yeah.” He finally said. I stood there, staring at him, waiting for him to continue. It was obvious that I had questions, so I assumed he’d try to explain, but instead looks at me like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

”Okay…” I start off, “And I guess I wasn’t supposed to hear that then?”

“What? Oh. Yeah, no, she uh… she called me. She told me to tell you that she isn’t mad at you,” he spits out at the end. I look at him even more confused.

“Dude, what? Mad about what? Because if she wasn’t mad about everything happening the first week of tour, she would’ve talked to me by now…right?” I ask. He sighs and walks closer, coming and leaning on the island of the kitchen with a weird look on his face.

”She kind of spilled it on me, and I was hoping I’d have a little more time to think of a less awkward way to tell you, but that was her telling me to tell you that she isn’t mad about Halloween. I’m assuming that also means she isn’t upset about the whole fight you had either.”

His words play in my head as I take them in, trying to make sense with the situation. And then they actually set in.

“Fuck! She knew about Halloween?!” I start pacing. “No fucking wonder she went radio silent with everyone and then pops out with Will two fucking days later.”

”Oh, so you do know about her and Will?” He asks. I nod, because of fucking course I knew about them. Even with her apology-cover-video, it was obvious that her and Will were a thing now.

“Apparently she heard that you weren’t taking everything well, and since she didn’t exactly think she could just call you, she wanted me to tell you that she wasn’t upset. She specifically said about Halloween, but she also mentioned wanting to work on the tension between you two, so I’m taking that as her not upset about the argument either,” he adds.

I mirror him, leaning onto the island as I process everything. So she wasn’t upset anymore? Is it just because she already moved on and figured there's no reason for bad blood anymore?

“She’s with Will now, isn’t she?” I ask, trying to understand the situation we were in.

“I mean, yeah, Calum, Finn, and Damien headed over to hang with the whole band earlier today, so I’m pretty sure,” he answered. I just nodded.

Things were finally starting to click. She was having a lot more fun with Will, so it was obvious if she wanted to try to make things work with him instead. And she still wants to be friends, which I’m willing to work with. It’s going to suck, but that’s the headspace I was in before her and I finally talked. As long as it means she’s in my life, I can work with this.

“Okay,” I finally say.

“Okay?” Ruffilo asks.

“That’s good to hear. I don’t want her mad at me. I’ve been wanting to apologize, so I’m glad it seems like she’s finally wanting to talk to me again.” He gives me a slightly confused look before relaxing and nodding.

”Yeah. I’m not sure if we’ll see her anytime before we get to our next show, but I’m glad tour will run a little smoother now that you two can work on making up.” I do my best to give him a small smile and nod, already thinking of the next time I get to talk to her again.

Y/N

After saying goodbye to everyone, the boys and I made our way to the rental van Damien borrowed from Nick, Will included. Listen, making a new friend, especially one you can only hang out with for the next day and a half, means you’re going to want to spend as much time with him as possible. So the boys are going to drop the two of us off at my hotel, since I’ve been spending way too much money on a room I feel like I’ve barely used, and I’m going to use this last day as my actual day of relaxation since my plans went to shit the second the Halloween party happened.

We all pack into the minivan, the boys still riding the high of hanging out with another large band and learning so many new things from them and Dave, and we take off.

“We really need to talk more about what’s coming next with our band,” Cal randomly threw in, “With Y/N finally accepting to do heavier vocals, I really think we could transform our sound in other ways.”

”What do you mean?” I ask. He turns around in the passenger seat to face the rest of us with that look on his face. The one that tells you that he’s been thinking about something way too much and is destined to make it happen.

”What if…I start playing guitar?” He finally says. We all stare at him for a few moments, both confused and intrigued.

“Play…guitar. And then what will I do?” Asks Finn.

“You’ll also play guitar.”

”Wait! Are you saying you’re gonna learn rhythm guitar?” Will cuts in, making Cal nod excitedly.

“I can play bass and guitar, and have been missing guitar, so why not practically combine the two?”

“But do you know how hard it is to find a bassist? Especially one that’s not already in a band?” Damien says, making Cal face him.

”Well, we obviously have time, seeing as we still have a few months left of tour and will barely have time to work on new music…but we do already know another bassist.” Cal pretty much sings the last part, like he sees himself as a genius for this plan.

”What? Who?” I ask. He gives me a smirk.

“I mean, we did just meet him, and I haven’t heard him play, but the way he was talking about it makes me feel like it’s worth a shot.”

”Who- Wait! Austin?” I ask, earning another excited nod from Cal, who was practically leaning over the center console at this point.

“I know it’s crazy, but he was so cool and the second we got to talking about music and playing bass, the ideas just started forming, so I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. And then after today and talking to Moke about it, I think it’s a really good idea. At least for us to think about and maybe talk to him about once we get an idea of what we should do with our sound.”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try. Will and I have been throwing ideas around as a joke, but if you guys are down with it, I say let's get our ideas brewing.” I reply. Finn and Damien nod, seemingly running ideas through their own heads already, until Finn whips his head towards me.

“Speaking of, what the fuck is going on with you two?” He asks, holding two fingers out to point at Will and me. I stare at him, a little stunned, before turning to Will on the other side of me, who has a sheepish look on his face. I turn back to Finn and awkwardly shrug.

“I mean, a lot and nothing at the same time.” I say.

“And what the fuck does that mean?” Damien says with a laugh. I let out a sigh and lean against the back of the seat.

“So I know I haven’t really told you two what’s been happening, other than that Noah and I haven’t exactly been on good terms lately, but a lot has been happening. And then at his birthday party, I found out that he slept with someone else.” Damien whips his head around to look at me, shocked, before quickly turning back to the road.

”He what?!” He practically yells. I nod before continuing.

“I was upset at first, like really upset, and that led me to wanting to…make some bad decisions.” Cal looks at me with a sad look, already knowing how bad I can get sometimes.

“Hun, you know you can talk to us. I was wondering where you went when you disappeared from the party and then practically went MIA for a whole day.” Finn said, giving me an equally pitying look.

“It’s okay now. Matt was nice enough to drive me back to the hotel, and after rotting in bed for a night, I ended up just buying a fuck ton of new clothes and going out to the club. So no bad decisions yet, but I was planning on it. I don’t know if I was looking to get back at Noah that night, or if I just wanted to get my mind off everything, but either way…I ended up taking someone back to my hotel room…” I continue, trailing off at the end. Cal instantly cranes his neck around the back of his seat to stare at Will, who just gave him an awkward smile.

“I was indeed Mr. Rebound that night,” Will bashfully added. I nodded before continuing.

“We both agreed that it was a one time thing and that it wasn’t going to be awkward, which I’m really glad about, because the last two days have been really fun just hanging out as friends.”

”Okay, but what about the rumors online? There’s a pic of you two walking down town, and then another that Austin posted of you two being quite snugly together.” Finn asked.

”That’s the thing. With everything going on with Noah, the last thing we need is the fans shoving their noses into all of it. So Will and I figured to just let those rumors run while Noah and I work everything out. I’m hoping I can get that information to Noah soon, not wanting to deal with any more miscommunication, but we still haven’t talked since that night in the bar.”

”And how do you plan on dealing with that?” Damien asks in an almost condescending tone, making me sigh.

“I talked to Ruffilo today and told him to pass along that I wasn’t upset anymore and that I wanted to try working on everything between us, so I just have to wait for Noah to be up for it and willing to chat, I guess.” I answer, just as we pull up to my hotel.

“I really want to hound you for more info right now, but I guess I’ll wait until we’re stuck on a tour bus together,” Finn says with a sigh. He leans over and gives me a hug as Will gets out of the car.

“Love you. I’ll catch a ride to the house the morning of so we can head to the bus together, alright?” I say as I pull away from Finn and turn to Cal and Damien. They give me a smile, nod, and I make my way out of the car, meeting up with Will.

We both wave to the boys as they drive away, then make our way up to my hotel room. Once inside, I quickly move to my suitcase and grab clothes, heading for the shower.

“I’ve worn these clothes for way too long and my hair feels like I could fry bacon on it. Make yourself comfy,” I tell Will, earning a laugh, before shutting the door behind me.

After turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat up, I stare at myself in the mirror. I look both rejuvenated and like I’ve been run over by a truck. I pull my hair out of the hair tie I put it in earlier today and brush out all the knots before finally stepping into the shower. Almost instantly, I feel the muscles in my shoulders loosen. I’ve been holding onto so much emotion lately, and while the war isn’t over yet, I have hope of the sun shining again.

I spend a little too long in the shower, letting my thoughts ruminate on my plan and everything that has happened lately as I slowly clean off almost 3 days worth of sweat, dirt, and bad decisions. Finally leaving the relaxing water, I dry off, get dressed, and join Will. I see that he’s just playing on his phone, so I round the bed and fall face first onto it next to him. I feel a hand on my back as I bury my face into the mattress, letting out a deep sigh.

“You alright?” he asks, lazily rubbing his hand against my shoulder. I do my best to nod with my face smushed, before turning my head and trying again.

“I just wish I didn’t have to deal with all of this on top of dealing with my first big tour. I won’t be surprised if I start going grey before I even make it back home,” I mumble, the exhaustion evident in my voice.

“I know. And it sucks that you didn’t get to do much relaxing on your break, but you have tonight and tomorrow, and if you need me to get out of your hair, I will,” he said in a soft voice, “Also I don’t think you’ve mentioned where you’re from. I heard someone talk about the east coast, but that’s about it.”

”You’re fine. I’ll lock myself in the bathroom if you get annoying,” I softly chuckle, “ And I grew up in Louisiana, but the boys and I are currently staying in New York. Kinda between NYC and Staten Island.”

As I say that, his hands stops rubbing my shoulder, making me look up, catching a shocked look on his face.

“Dude, you live an hour away from me,” he finally says, making me cock my head, stunned.

“You’re joking.” I laugh out as I sit up to face him.

“Dude, we’re hanging out all the time when your tour ends. Bro…” He starts to sit up, getting excited, “I have so much shit to show you down by where I live. And you’re showing me shit, too. This is great. I was so worried about when we’d get to hang out again.”

I laugh at his excitement, feeling the same. We didn’t have many friends up where we lived. Yeah, we made friends with a few other local bands, but never had the time to actually get close to them outside of occasionally playing together, so knowing Will was about an hours drive was amazing to know. The two of us talk, making plans of different things we want to show each other when I’m back home, until we finally both get tired and eventually crash.

Y/N

The tour bus shakes as we drive over what I assume was a pot-hole, causing my pen to scratch as I try to write. I let out a small curse, not in the mood to be dealing with any more inconveniences.

Music blasted through my headphones as I wrote down more and more shitty lyrics. I gave up on journaling, just turning every thought I had into ideas for new music. I’ll eventually work all of this out with someone to make it actually make sense.

After a day of bumming out with Will, him needing to leave the night before we hit the road again, and then a simple yet awkward encounter with Noah and the boys, we were finally all back on our buses and continuing the tour. Nothing really happened when I stopped by the boy’s place to meet up with my band, Finn and Damien taking up most of my time making sure we had absolutely everything perfect before leaving. I exchanged a few greetings with the other group, finally speaking to Matt for the first time since the party, and Noah and I just gave each other a small smile before we were hauling our belongings and taking off.

The tension seemed to ease, but it wasn’t gone. It’s still a work in progress. The first few shows after we got back were a little awkward still, but we were able to be in the same room together and not have the tension between us fill the room. But it also didn’t help that I just haven’t been in the best mood since getting back into it.

I wish I could easily explain why the second I stepped onto the bus and we all got settled, my mood shifted again, but I’m doing the best I can to use it to my advantage and not have the other boys worry about me. I thought the break and last day of relaxation would help me, but I think it may have made things worse. I think after the days of chatting with Will, then finally meeting him, him turning into an intense healing experience, that leaving him was a little harder than I expected. I knew he became a feeling of safety while I was with him, but I wasn’t expecting to attach to him that badly.

I may have become addicted to his presence while I had it. The comfort it gave me. How easily he helped me work through everything I’ve been dealing with, and then easily distract me from it all right after. I truly hadn’t had someone in my life like him in…probably forever.

I’ve had this reaction to two people in my life so far. First was Finn, back when he was my only friend. I followed him around like a puppy and every time he was busy and couldn’t spend time with me, I just felt lost. Like my entire existence started orbiting his. When he introduced me to Damien and Cal, and I started feeling closer to them as well, the connection dispersed between them all, dwindling the dependance I had on Finn. So once I saw all of the boys equally, all as brothers instead of one being my favorite, I lost the intense obsession with our friendship and was able to actually enjoy the time with and away from them all.

The second was my ex. He even reciprocated the obsession. It was the most unhealthy thing I’ve ever experienced. I did everything to please him, and he’d never let me go. He got me hooked on things I can’t even think about, purely because I wanted him to appreciate me and he wanted us to connect more, even if it was through addiction.

I didn’t see the boys for months at one point, just spending every second by Chris’ side, either strung out, playing music, or fucking. It took so long for me to realize that I wasn’t actually happy living like that. And the realization only came after I found out he decided to ‘move on’ while on tour. He still gave me the same sweet talk every time I called, but was actually fucking every fan girl he had.

I finally managed to break through the obsession, with my boys’ help. I left and got clean. I ignored every message Chris sent. I didn’t want to live like that anymore. And life was going fine…until I got the news. He died while on tour. I was even more of a wreck for the months following that than I was when I was with him, but with enough support and distraction from my boys, I did it.

Over the course of about a year, I found healthy coping mechanisms, mainly music, and persevered. I got better. I used my emotions about it all for our music, yet did my best not to dwell on it all, and things worked out. Our band flourished. Even with the whole Noah situation, I knew how to handle obsessive thoughts and I thought I was learning how to be better.

Things were good. I was good. I was happy. To not rely on another person for my own comfort felt amazing. But now the feeling was back. And it was attached to a person I couldn’t stay close to. Will went back to New Jersey and I had to hit the road. I was doing my best not to seclude myself, but I didn’t want to keep ruining everyone’s mood all tour, so I’ve just been hiding in my bunk or the back of the bus, mainly using the excuse that I was working on songs so they’d leave me alone.

It wasn’t a romantic obsession. It barely felt platonic at this point. My brain just felt like it needed him now. I needed to know that he was there for me. That he was doing good, just so that I could be doing okay, too. But with all of these feelings came with me pushing him away. Between hoping that staying away from him would ease this feeling, and the weird pain in my chest that I’d get every time he was too busy to talk, I just began ignoring every message and call. I couldn’t feel the pain of being ignored or alone if I ignored him.

The boys have definitely noticed that something was off, but with everything happening, they most likely figured it was just the stress of everything happening, so they’ve been helping with what they could. Every time we got to a venue, they’d let me seclude myself on the bus until it was time for sound check. While the other guys did their soundcheck or did their set, they’d let me wander off, assuming I just needed more space. But I think they were getting a little concerned with the fact that I’ve been a little more distant with the crowd. I don’t mean to. I felt absolutely terrible, but my mind was a fucking mess between planning out how to get the whole Noah situation fixed and feeling like my safety blanket was left behind.

I just slowly became numb on stage. Finn had to start asking the crowd for the ‘Fan’s Choice’ song after I completely forgot about it one night. I faked a laugh and did my best to play it off, but I knew my boys were starting to see right through me, so they took that resposibility from me and started doing it for me.

After our sets, I’d do my best to thank the crowd with a smile and walk off, but the second I was off stage, I was instantly walking away from everything. I’d either hide in the bathroom or my bunk. A few shows, I’d just go for a walk if we were in a nice area and only come back when I knew we were packing up to head onto the next show. I heard one of the boys give the group another excuse every time, but I could tell that even they were starting to catch on, too. At first, I was getting a ‘hope you feel better’ text from Nick, Matt stopping by before we hit the road to give me a few extra waters and snacks, and even had Jolly ask if I wanted to join him while running to the store, assuming I just needed a break from everyone and everything. But when I got a few texts from Ruffilo, I knew at least he had caught on.

It hit me like a ton of bricks once I got the courage to read it. I haven’t replied yet, not knowing my answer, but I’ve been debating it. I know he’s a good person and an amazing friend, seeing how sane he keeps his friends, especially Noah, but I would feel terrible adding my problems onto his plate. But I also keep telling myself that he wouldn’t reach out unless he was completely serious.

Speaking of Noah, nothing has really happened. He’s acting differently, but still keeping his distance. Maybe because he can sense that I may need it, but it seems like he needs it, too. I have no way of knowing what’s going on inside his head, but I’ve been regretting that cover I did. Even though I told Ruffilo to let him know I didn’t have any hard feelings about us anymore, I definitely added more confusing feelings to everything we’ve been dealing with. I haven’t gotten a reaction or response or anything from him about it, but I know the boys showed him.

I want to reach out. So badly. But I can’t. I haven’t said more than a handful of words to my own bandmates lately, ao speaking to him is currently off the table.

Life has just been a mess. I can’t speak to anyone. I’m ignoring the one person who could help me, purely because I’m convinced it’s going to make it worse since I can’t handle these obsessive feelings again. Finn almost yelled at me for smoking yesterday, but once he saw the look in my eyes, he just pretended like he didn’t even see me. I know my boys want to reach out to help, but I feel like they know that it won’t go anywhere. They haven’t seen me like this yet, but they can pick up on how I’ve acted before and can see that there may be no pulling me out of this funk. I’m just going to have to do it myself.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about falling back into worse things, but I couldn’t do that to the boys. To the person they love and to the career we finally got moving forward. Or the other group. They chose us for a reason. I couldn’t have them thinking they made a mistake. I couldn’t have them getting any heat because they’re now associated with a band whose frontman was strung out on stage. And I couldn’t do that to Noah. He’s dealing with enough. I know that even if I become the worst version of myself, it’ll never push him away, it’ll only drown him.

So I’m going to stick to secluding myself, blasting music, occasionally smoking a much needed cigarette, and writing more songs. More than anything did I want to call Will and ask for help, never writing songs like this before. And I couldn’t show these to my boys just yet, not wanting them to see these emotions and having to deal with the absolute trainwreck on paper they were at the moment, so I was stuck trying to work it out myself.

I feel the tour bus pull off to a rest stop again, probably the 7th time today. Damien was complaining all night about his stomach after eating out with the guys last night, and you can’t exactly use the toilets on the buses, so he had to repeatedly ask the driver to stop when we could. It only bothered me because we were constantly going between the lulling rumble that I’ve finally gotten used to again, to the idling shake as we waited. And I desperately wanted to step off and stretch my legs, maybe buy a snack or something, but I really didn’t want to leave my bunk and be seen by the others.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the curtain of my bunk opening slightly, with Finn’s head peeking through to check on me. I took a headphone out and gave him a fake half smile. Seeing that I was awake and willing to give him my attention, he pulled the curtain back more and gave me a pitiful smile, before handing me a tea and candy bar.

”I figured you’d want something sweet since Damien always hides the good snacks,” he said, sounding a little timid.

I eyed the snacks in his hand for a moment, before reaching out and taking him. I gave him a small ‘thanks’ and he looked a little too excited to hear me speak to him.

I was waiting for him to leave just like every other time he not so subtly checked on me, but he just stood there, internally debating something.

“Can we please talk?” he finally asked. I looked at him, about to tell him that everything was fine and not to worry, but something in me wanted to finally give in.

“Only to you..” I spoke softly. He instantly nodded and looked around the bus, before beckoning me to follow him.

I paused my music and slid out of my bunk, finally stretching my legs a bit, before following him to the back of the bus. There was a curtain you could pull to close it off from the rest of the bus, so once we entered, he closed it so we could have a little privacy. Once we both sat down, he began speaking.

“Okay, I don’t want to push you, so only answer what you feel comfortable with, okay?” I nodded and he let out a deep sigh.

“My love. I am so unbelievably worried about you. We all are. Even the other guys. I know that you have these moments and that life is kind of a mess right now, but I just need something from you. I need to know that you’re still here. That you’re still you. Please.”

”I..I’m sorry..” was all I could get out. He gave me a sad look.

“Please don’t apologize for this. I just need you to know that you don’t have to deal with this alone. We’ve been here for you before, so I don’t know why we can’t help you now.”

”I’m just dealing with things I haven’t dealt with in a long time. Things I never really mentioned to anyone before. So it’s weird talking about them now.” He reached his hand out and held mine, rubbing his thumb over the back to try and soothe me.

“You know we’d never judge you. Yes, we tease you, but never about your problems. And you have new people in your life now who love you almost as much as we do, and you’re not talking to them either. Will has been blowing up my phone, asking for any updates I can give, because he’s terrified, thinking of all the reasons why you’re not talking to him.”

My head dropped at the mention of his name. Fuck, I am hurting him. He doesn’t deserve this.

“I…I can’t”

”Can’t what?” He asked.

“Talk to him…” He gave me a confused look.

”You looked so happy spending time with him. You were so upset knowing you couldn’t see him until we get back home. What could have possibly happened in that time?”

I just sat there, staring at my hands, debating if I share one of the most embarrassing things about myself. I could barely look him in the eye when I had to ask for help when dealing with Chris. It took me forever to tell him everything about Noah. Can I tell him this?

I felt droplets falling onto my hand, making me realize I was now crying. I tried to reach up and wipe my tears, but Finn beat me to it. I finally took this moment to look him in the eyes for what felt like the first time in forever, and my heart broke at the pain in them, caused by me acting like this. With a deep breath, I began to tell him everything.

I told him about how safe Will made me feel. How terrifying it was getting to be away from him. I told him about how this happened in the past. But this time, it was feeling so much harder to deal with. Pushing myself away from him before it hurt me more. I told him about the cravings. Apologized for smoking. How I wish none of this ever happened, because I couldn’t handle dealing with all the emotions. I even finally told him about the cover I sent to Noah, and how I haven’t heard a single thing from him since. Everything that has been running through my mind the past few days just spewed from my lips, each sentence hitting Finn like a truck full of pain.

He did his best to comfort me, but because most of it was problems he never had to work with before, we were both left feeling lost. So now I was silently sobbing into his chest as he held me, telling me that it was okay and that we can work this out.

After about ten minutes, my sobs dying down, I finally spoke again.

“And to top it all off, the 17th is coming up..” I said with a sniffle. The 17th was the day Chris passed. It was always hard for me, but I’ve been able to handle it the best I could in the past, but with everything happening this year, I don’t know how hard it will hit me.

”Oh, Hun..” he said, frowning, “We can get through this like we always do. It’s a completely different problem for you to deal with, so if we just seperate that from everything else, I promise we can work through this.”

I nodded and gave him another hug. I was definitely feeling better now that I finally let tears fall and let my thoughts out on more than just paper.

After collecting myself a little more, we stood and made our way towards the front of the bus. The boys looked shocked to see me. I know I probably looked like a mess, as I’ve only been putting effort into my appearance when I go on stage, but they were definitely more shocked to see me coming to them for the first time in over a week.

I walked to Damien first and gave him a big hug. He tensed in confusion for a second, but quickly relaxed and squeezed me tight. I giggled softly until he finally let me go, then did the same with Cal, who welcomed me with open arms and a proud smile. He held me close and dug his face into my shoulder, like he truly missed me. Then more arms joined us. I was now the center of a group hug and couldn’t help but laugh as they squeezed me half to death.

“I’m so glad to see you doing better,” Damien said, and I heard his voice waver slightly. I felt terrible doing this to them.

“I’m sorry for acting like this, I really should be coming to you when I need help, it’s just hard. But you’re the best family I could’ve asked for and I really need to take advantage of it,” I said as they start pulling away.

”Anything you need, we’re here for you. Always,” Cal stated.

“Now that you say that, I might have something I could use your help with,” I mumbled.

I took a deep breath. I had to do this. It was an outrageous step, but it was what I needed to do if I wanted to start working on myself. I stepped forward towards the mic and looked over the hundred of cheering faces in front of me. I took out my ear piece, wanting to feel closer to them as I began speaking.

“So, I know that there’s been some speculation lately. On how shit I’ve looked the past few shows,” I let out a little laugh, “And mainly my interaction with all of you. And I’m very sorry. I know excuses are a terrible apology, but I feel like I should explain just a little.”

The crowd died down, letting me give my speech.

“I know all of you understand what it’s like to have a bad day. Nothing goes right, you don’t want to talk to people, and you just want to lose your mind a little but. Sadly, that’s been a little too common for me lately. Life has been crazy, everything seems to be going wrong, and all I want to do is lay in bed. But you all push me to persevere.”

I pause to collect myself, knowing this will be a little rough for me.

“Now, I’m going to be very vulnerable here. When I look out and see all of you, I see a safe space, so please be nice to me,” I laugh again before taking a deep breath, “I used to deal with a lot. Life became too much and I chose not so great people to be around. With that, came falling down the pit that is…addiction…Now, I’ve been clean for coming on six years-“ The crowd cheered as I said that, causing my lip to quiver and I could feel emotion building in my throat, but I held my composure, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still have those bad days. I struggle with a plethora of mental health issues, and sometimes I want to fall back into the false safety of those old days. But I don’t. Because of the boys behind me,” I pause and hold out my arms, motioning to my bandmates, “Some amazing people that have come into my life recently,” I glance over to the side stage, catching a shocked Ruffilo and Noah, Jolly and Nick creeping in behind them to hear what I have to say, then out towards Front of House where Matt sat, before finally looking back at the crowd, “And most importantly, all of you.”

I pause to wipe a tear that fell down my cheek as the crowd cheered once more.

“So, today, I am sadly once again revoking the privilege of the ‘Fan’s Choice’ song. I know. I’d hate me, too, but the reason I’m doing this is because I’ve learned that the best way to convey a message is through music. I have so much I have to say, and I am unbelievably bad at speeches, so I’m using one of my favorite songs to speak to you all.”

I pause to wipe a tear that fell down my cheek as the crowd cheered once more.

“This is wildly out of our genre. While that has never been a problem to any of you before, I still feel as if I should still warn you. Now, without further ado, here’s a song that has helped me more than I could ever explain.”

An array of applause flows through the building as the boys got ready to play. I was thankful they were so incredibly talented that they were willing to play a song that they had just learned earlier today. I take a look back at them, and once they all gave me a thumbs up, I began.

I started using again

Left my heart in Rocky Hill

Hole burning in my head

Needed a distraction from my head

Devil on my shoulder said try this instead

So I started using again

A saw a few fans singing along, both warming and breaking my heart. To know this song meant to know struggle. But to share that with them meant so much.

I started sleeping again

Traded late nights and sheep for Vicodin

The guilt burning in my chest set it

I started sleeping again

I took the mic off the stand, getting ready for the next part, wanting to finally feel emotion in the music I perform again.

I stopped wishing I was dead

Learned to love myself

Before anyone else

Become more than just a burden

I know I’m more than worthy of your time

I drop the mic to my side as Damien went crazy on the drums and Finn played a riff that he managed to execute perfectly, before singing again.

I started smoking again

Guess I missed coughing my lungs up

Every morning

Needing anything to keep me breathing

To prevent my blood from bleeding

I started smoking again

They all stopped playing, besides Finn picking the soft tune on his guitar.

I started loving again

Thought when I lost that will to live

I could never feel again

I’ll give it one more shot

And let someone in

I started loving again

Cam started playing again, getting louder by the second.

I started loving again

I took a deep breath, putting the mic back on the stand, but then grabbed the stand to stabilize myself.

I stopped wishing I was dead

Learned to love myself

Before anyone else

Become more than just a burden

I know I’m more than worthy of your time

I’m more than worthy of your time

I stepped away as the music died out. It took a few seconds, but soon the cheers came rumbling through the building, causing a smile to form on my face. I hated being vulnerable, but it was time. I’ll never fully heal that part of me, but being able to do this in front of so many supportive fans was a huge step for me.

After giving the crowd a long and appreciative goodbye and doing my best to hype them up for Bad Omens, even after the emotional show we had, the boys and I made our way off stage. I desperately wanted to run back to the bus and hide like I had been doing all week, but I pushed those thoughts away and walked towards backstage. This would be the first time I was going to really talk to the other band since the halloween party, other times just giving passing words, barely giving them a glance.

With a deep breath, I stepped into the room and all of their eyes shot up to see me. I wanted to cower away, hide from the confrontation. It was bad enough that I just said all of that to thousands of fans, now I had to deal with these four, and it was going to be so much harder.

None of us seemed to know how to react. I noticed that all of them had slightly puffy, red eyes, Noah’s being visibly redder than the rest, but I didn’t want to think about that too much to keep my own at bay.

“So uh… I guess this is where I apologize for how I’ve been acting...” I awkwardly trail out, shifting between my feet as they all just stared at me.

“What? No! You don’t have to apologize!” Ruffilo rushed out as he stood to walk towards me, “I’m just glad you’re okay. We’ve been so worried about you. And oh my god, did that take some balls out there.”

A smile creeped onto my lips as he talked. It did feel really good to take that step and get some of this off my chest. The rest of the guys stood and walked towards me, Noah trailing behind, keeping his distance.

“Y/N, you are one strong motherfucker. Never apologize for that. We all understand that life gets bad sometimes and you just need a break, but I want you to know that we would never judge you for that.” Nick said.

I couldn’t stop the tears before they came pouring down my face, despite not wanting to spill any more. All I could do was raise my arms, and they came in to give me a hug. I did my best to keep my tears from getting on Ruffilo’s shirt, but I feel like the fans would understand if they did see a wet spot.

I opened my eyes during the hug and saw a pair of skinny long legs standing awkwardly behind the others. With a small laugh mixed with a choked sob, I beckoned with the hand closest to him.

“Noah, get your ass in here.” His breath audibly hitched as I said his name, but he slowly made his way in and joined us. Then the three boys behind me did as well. And now I was trapped between seven men with no way out, slowly losing oxygen.

“Okay. Okay. I need to breathe.” I finally exclaimed after a few moments, making a few of them laugh.

They all pulled away and a few of them even wiped their eyes as they did.

“I love you all. I really do. I know I haven’t put much effort in getting close to some of you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you all mean so much to me,” I spoke, looking at all of them, “But that being said, wipe your tears and get out there.”

They chuckled and went back to getting ready to head on stage. Noah lingered a little longer than the rest, like he wanted to say something, but decided against it and joined the rest of them.

“You gonna stay and watch our set this time?” Jolly called out as he walked towards side stage. I give him a small smile.

”I have to call someone first, but I’ll be there.”

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian reader insert #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #running in circles #Spotify

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moreau234 · 3 days ago

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Gentle hands; Steady heart — a jerejean fanfic /3

Jeremy knows some french phrases

The apartment's living room finally felt lived in now. Not just a space assigned to them, but a space kept—the coffee table perpetually stacked with textbooks and half-empty cups, the couch cushions forever slightly askew from where one of them had last sat, blankets tossed over the armrest because not one out of the four of them remembered put them back properly. Every bit of that normality had helped them after everything that happened with their old house.

Jean was sitting cross-legged on the couch, his laptop balanced on one knee, a pen twirling absentmindedly on his hand. He was deep in focus, working through a business assignment, eyes dark and sharp as they scanned his notes. His fingers tapped absently against the page, his mind already three steps ahead of wherever his study material was taking him.

Jeremy, who had given up studying for the LSAT in front of Jean (one too many scowls, one too many lectures about making a bad decision if he didn’t go pro), had settled for reviewing his French instead. The textbook sat open in his lap, a notebook balanced against his thigh, but his attention had drifted to the dark haired man just in front of him.

He was wearing sweatpants and a dark blue shirt, loose in the shoulders, the V-neck dipping just enough to reveal his collarbone and the thin chain of his cross necklace.

Jeremy felt something in his chest go tight, as it usually did when he looked at Jean for too long because he was a handsome man. Unfairly so.

And Jeremy, who had spent too much time pretending he wasn’t thinking about that, was currently doing a shit job of looking away.

Jean, still reading, barely moved when he spoke. “Do you need help?”

Jeremy startled slightly, caught. “What?”

He finally glanced up, arching a brow. “You’re staring.”

“Blunt as always” Jeremy couldn't help but smile and feel a little embarrassed for being caught red-handed.

“I’m observant.” Jean shrugged, going back to his notes, settling back in again.

Jeremy’s heart was still beating a little too fast, so he took the only opportunity he had. “Yeah, actually. Help me with this.” He tapped the open page in his textbook. “How do I pronounce le droit des affaires?”

“Business law?” Jean looked up again, blinking the way he did when he thought Jeremy was saying something silly.

Jeremy grinned. “Oh, look at that. We’re studying the same thing.”

“You can say droit properly, I’ve heard you.” Jean sighed like he regretted every choice that led him to this conversation.

Jeremy made a vague gesture. “Yeah, but it never sounds as good as when you say it.”

“Because you are American.” He gave him a flat look

Jeremy pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Ouch.”

He rolled his eyes, but after a moment, he indulged him.

"Le droit des affaires," he said, slow and measured, the words slipping smooth and practiced from his lips.

Jeremy hummed, trying to mimic it. “Le droit des affaires.”

Jean shook his head immediately. “Your r is terrible.”

“I know.” He winced a bit, it was something he was having a hard time fixing.

"Droit." Jean gave him a small smile, his voice patient when he repeated.

He tried again. "Droit."

Jean’s gaze softened just slightly. “Better.”

Jeremy didn’t know if it was the way Jean said it, or the fact that he was looking at him like that, but it made something warm curl deep in his stomach.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his book again. “Okay, so what about—”

Jean, already going back to his notes, cut him off before he could even finish. “No more legal terms.”

Jeremy grinned. “Fine. How about… mon amour?”

Jean’s pen stilled against the page.

Jeremy watched the small shift in his expression, the way his fingers curled slightly against his textbook, the way his lashes flickered as he glanced up, unreadable.

Then, quiet, like it cost him nothing at all and everything at the same time, Jean said, “Mon amour.”

Jeremy’s breath stopped. He was sure he looked like a fish out of the water. He couldn't think and his heart was racing a losing race.

Jean had said it—mon amour—so soft, so easy, like it had always belonged to him. Like it wasn’t the single most dangerous thing he had ever let slip past his lips.

And he kept looking.

Jean’s grey eyes were steady, unblinking, studying him in a way that made Jeremy’s throat dry and his heart thunder against his ribs. It wasn’t just that Jean was looking—it was how. Like he was memorizing him, tracing the specks of gold in his eyes, mapping the curve of his mouth, searching for something he wasn’t sure he would find.

He had never seen him look like that before.

The rules have changed, Jean.

Jean knew this was a dangerous line, but he had thought about Jeremy like this so many times, had censored himself as many times, because he couldn’t have this.

He couldn’t have Jeremy.

No matter how much he wanted him.

But then—then—Neil’s voice curled at the back of his mind, sharp and certain, telling him the rules had changed. That he wasn’t playing under Riko’s rules anymore. That he could have things now. That he was allowed.

That he could want something and take it.

Jeremy was still watching him, looking a bit stunned and tense. He looked like he was waiting for Jean to do something.

And maybe—maybe just this once—, with Jeremy looking at him like this, Jean could let himself believe it.

So he leaned in, just slightly, just enough, and asked, "Est-ce que je peux t’embrasser?"

He saw the exact moment Jeremy understood.

Because Jean knew Jeremy had learned that phrase. If he remembered correctly, it was in a chapter about holidays and Valentine's Day, Laila had said that phrase with the pronunciation all wrong to Cat dozens of times since then.

Jeremy’s lips parted slightly, his breath hitching, and the space between them suddenly felt too much and too little all at once.

Jeremy knew exactly what it meant.

Jean swallowed. He should give Jeremy time to think, to answer, to—

“Yes.”

It wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t confused.

Jeremy said it like he had been waiting for this.

Jean’s breath caught and then he moved. He didn't want to give his mind time to talk him down from this.

The book on Jeremy’s lap slid to the floor as Jean reached for him, fingers curling into the collar of Jeremy’s sweatshirt, pulling him in—slow, careful, certain. He could feel the warmth of Jeremy’s breath, could see the way his lashes fluttered, could hear the way his breath stuttered when Jean tilted his head just so.

And then, finally, he kissed him.

Jeremy made a small sound—something between relief and disbelief, something warm—and kissed him back without hesitation.

It wasn’t desperate, but something deeper than that.

Something like want—days and weeks and months of it, coiled tight between them, finally unraveling, spilling out into the space where their lips met, where Jean breathed him in like he was something necessary.

Jeremy cupped Jean’s face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, steadying him. Holding him like Jean was something worth holding.

And Jean let him.

#jerejean #the golden raven #the sunshine court #aftg fanfic #jean moreau #jeremy knox #[a 'gentle hands steady heart' short story]

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cherry-coffees · 2 days ago

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Labyrinth, Chapter 4: You Would Break Your Back to Make Me Break a Smile

Premise: You and Vi bask in the glow of your recently confessed feelings, even as the rest of the family discovers them. But when you take an injury during a job, Vi helps you through your healing.

cw: 2.8K words | childhood crush!Vi, hurt/comfort, so much fluff, confessions, dynamics with young!Powder, mentions of drinking, mentions of blood/injury (nothing too intense), did I mention there's fluff?

Ch. 1 | Ch.2 | Ch. 3

You wake the next morning, stirring at the distant sounds from the kitchen downstairs. You shift slightly in the bed as you stretch out your limbs, blinking sleep from your eyes, when an arm tightens around you. Oh. Right.

Vi’s curled around you, spooning you from behind in her sleep. Her breath is warm against the back of your neck, arm firmly encircling your waist to keep you close. As you stretch, she blinks a few times before her eyes open, and she lets out a sleepy sigh. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you repeat, smiling. You roll over just enough so that you’re facing her as your legs tangle with hers. Vi normally slept across the room next to Powder, but she had been unable to let you go last night when you had walked back to the house from the training area.

“Kiss?” Vi asks, her voice almost sounding hopeful with her puppy eyes to match. Gods, are you weak for those puppy eyes. It’s unfair, really.

You exhale, almost a laugh — though careful to keep your voice quiet as so not to wake up a sleeping Powder across the room. “We just woke up, Vi. My breath is probably terrible.”

“You think I give a shit?” She rolls her eyes at your excuse as her hand comes up to cradle your jaw. “Humor me.”

“Alright,” you concede, because it’s not like you’re opposed to kissing your… well, whatever you are now. After some more sweet kisses last night before falling asleep in her arms, you hadn’t talked about labels much.

Vi just grins in triumph, leaning her head forward to brush her lips against yours. It’s slow, like she’s savoring the feeling of getting to wake up next to you and share soft morning kisses. Your eyes slip shut once again, and she hums into the kiss. The way her body pushes flush against yours makes you shiver, and you have to pull away after a few moments.

Vi’s eyebrows furrow, her expression questioning, as if asking you why you have to stop. But you just make some gesture towards Powder’s sleeping form, a small smile tugging at your lips. Vi huffs out a sigh of annoyance before flopping back against her pillow, and you suppress a giggle as you slip out from under the blankets.

“Where are you going?” She whisper-shouts in protest the second you leave the warmth of her embrace.

“Downstairs,” you whisper back. You should get up and go help with breakfast (now that you can afford to have it with the money you made off the topside ship robbery a few days ago). Vi huffs yet again, and you just flash her a smile before you quietly slip out of the small bedroom.

You make your way down the old staircase, skipping the step that creaks, before you enter the common area. Vander’s already at the table with some coffee, Mylo and Claggor lounging in chairs beside him. You smile, greeting them with a “good morning” before approaching the stove and heating a pan, the carton of eggs beside you ready to be cooked.

Vi follows shortly, not wanting to be left behind. It’s only a minute or two before she emerges from the staircase as well, drawn to you as if you’re a magnet pulling her in. You don’t pay it much mind, continuing to cook the eggs for everyone. But Vi’s a physically affectionate person, as you’ve been quickly learning over the last few hours, and you feel strong arms encircle you from behind. Her chin rests on your shoulder from behind, and she sighs contentedly.

Clang!

“What the hell?” Claggor flinches slightly, casting a glare at Mylo opposite him. “What was that for?”

Mylo ignores him, as well as ignoring the cup that had suddenly dropped from his hands moments ago, in favor of pointing towards where you and Vi stand at the stove. “Wha- What’s going on?” He splutters, his jaw dropped.

When Claggor turns to see what Mylo’s looking at, his expression of annoyance morphs into a matching one of shock. “Wait!” His eyes widen. “You two-!”

Vi just turns, flashing a smug smile directed particularly at Mylo. She’s all pride, completely unabashed. “What?”

“Oh I knew it,” Mylo crows, all too pleased with himself. “I knew you were whipped for her.”

“I’m not whipped!” Vi protests. She is, actually, and everyone knows it. She just doesn’t want you to know how weak she is when it comes to you, how she’d bend to your wishes in the blink of an eye.

You glance up from your cooking at her comment, tilting your head at her as if to say “you aren’t?”

Vi immediately softens at your stare, fumbling her words. “No, you— you know what I mean. I obviously really like you and-"

Mylo barks out a laugh at this, Claggor smiling at their fierce leader going soft. Meanwhile, Vander watches you and Vi, a knowing gleam in his eyes. It’s a nostalgic, almost far-away kind of stare.

As you break from the stove to set the eggs on the table, a now-awake Powder bounds down the stairs. “Good morning!” She chirps, happily taking the seat next to yours. Her warmest smiles are reserved for you. Apparently, Vi’s heart isn’t the only heart you’ve won in this family.

Mylo, though, snatches the opportunity up with lightning speed. “Gee, Vi,” he sighs “Late night? Hair looks little messy there.”

“Something like that,” Vi glares at him, only breaking to glance nervously at Powder. Though she does run one hand through her hair, as if to smooth it down, and that’s how Mylo knows that he’s getting to her.

“What were you doing?” Mylo leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his elbow. “Hm. What do you think, Powder?”

“Huh?” Powder blinks, innocent-eyed from where she’s dishing out her own eggs.

“Your sister. You didn’t notice she was up late last night?” Mylo gasps, as if a revelation suddenly occurs to him. “Maybe she was with-"

“Mylo!” Vi snaps, her cheeks flushing pink. She doesn’t want Powder to find out like this, not exactly sure how she’ll feel about it.

“Enough,” Vander’s voice breaks through the tension, gruff and firm. “Everyone eat their food. Vi’s getting older, Mylo, you can’t blame her for what she wants.”

“What does she want?” Powder’s eyebrows furrow, confusion evident in her features. She’s not letting this conversation die until she finds out what everyone else seems to already know. If there’s one thing she hates, it’s being left out of the loop.

You finally chime in, turning to the little girl next to you. “Hey, Pow, you know I like all of you, right?”

Powder nods.

“And you know I like Vi.”

Another nod.

“Well,” you hesitate, unsure of how else to say it. “Vi and I realized that we like each other in a different way. In a romantic way, like in stories you’ve read. Is- Is that okay with you?”

Powder’s whole face brightens, her lips curving into a bright smile. “You mean you’re in love? You’ll be my actual sister?”

“Well-" it’s your turn for your cheeks to flush at the thought of being Powder’s sister in law, meaning you and Vi would actually get married. Vi’s flustered state matches yours, and Mylo and Claggor immediately dissolve into laughter.

Powder ignores them, beaming up at you. “It was only a matter of time. Vi’s always trying to look cool in front of you. She gets nervous ‘cause you’re pretty.”

“Oh really?” Your smile turns teasing, eyes darting over to where Vi groans, dropping her head into her palms.

Vander just watches on with a smile. “Ah,” he sighs. “The joys of young love.”

|------» ~~~ «------|

Vander calls everyone into the common area one afternoon, his tone promising some kind of job. Vi’s just returned from training with Mylo and Claggor, and you and Powder come in from doing your chores. Vi immediately tugs you against her chest, sweaty arms wrapping around you.

“Alright,” Vander clears his throat. “I’ve got word of a ship from topside docking at the ports tonight. The cargo is all expensive Piltover wine. Sells well, if we can get our hands on it.” He pauses to glance at each kid — including you. “You all up for it?”

Vi nods, determination flooding her features. “We’ve got this,” she affirms, her voice steady and assured. Mylo, Claggor, and Powder nod in agreement, and Vi casts a glance at you, still wrapped snugly in her arms. “You ready?”

“Let’s do it,” you smile, and Vi’s eyes soften just a fraction. You wonder, silently, how she can do that. How she can switch from her easygoing confidence to going soft for you in a matter of seconds.

A thought slips into your mind: can it always be like this?

|------» ~~~ «------|

The walk to the port begins late at night, when all the workers have left, leaving only the guards to get past. Vi walks at the front of the group, assuming her usual role of the oldest and leader. Mylo follows behind her, and Claggor and Powder bring up the rear. You’re beside Vi: fingers interlaced, hands swinging as you walk.

“Stay close,” Vi murmurs as you approach the water. “I know you can do jobs, but you’re not as experienced yet, and the most important thing is that you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you cast her a reassuring smile, and her expression softens in response.

“Good. Then let’s get this wine and get back home.”

The wine is all packaged, all perfectly packed away in shipping boxes with layers of foam in between to ensure that none of the bottles break. Nothing less could be expected from fancy Piltover goods that would go for a fortune in Zaun.

None of you can carry a lot of full boxes back to Vander’s place at one time, nor could anyone run with them if the guards happen to find out. Luckily, Vander had foreseen this issue: arranging a small, discreet cart where the boxes can be loaded and taken back to Benzo’s shop.

And, as luck would have it, many of the boxes are stacked in several piles next to the ship rather than kept on it. A group of guards sits in front of one of them, though they seem very preoccupied with the opened bottles of wine in their hands. A drinking break, clearly.

Vi grins when she sees this, motioning everyone else to the two piles furthest from the guards. Powder takes the smaller boxes with surprising strength despite her shorter height, and you slip over to join her. Vi, Mylo, and Claggor take the other pile, taking boxes in their arms and carefully stepping across the docks to load them on the cart. The foam packaging cushions the battles so they don’t clank together, and there are some other ships blocking the path to the cart; the guards continue to drink without a clue.

The second there are a substantial amount of boxes on the cart, it’s driven away in the quiet of the night, the only sound being the guard’s drunken laughter. Vi silently urges everyone together with a sweep of her hands, jerking her head back toward the city as a silent signal.

But as the five of you creep behind ships on the docks to get back to the city, Powder’s shoe catches on one of the loose wooden boards, and she stumbles with a gasp.

You reach out a hand to steady her, but it’s too late. The sound causes one pair of the guard’s eyes to dart over. “Hey!” He stands, voice husky and words slurred from intoxication. “Tryna steal something? Not on my watch!”

“Let’s go!” Vi calls, and it all happens in a blur. You’re sprinting behind Vi, Claggor, and Mylo. You can hear the heavy pounding of the guards’ boots behind you. You make it to a narrow alleyway, Vi darting in first followed by Mylo then Claggor. You push Powder in front of you, darting into the alleyway last — just before the guards can catch you.

Fortunately, due to the guards’ intoxication, their stumbling makes them virtually unable to keep up — especially in a dark passageway. It’s too dark for them to even make out your identities. On the flip side, this just seems to fuel their anger.

“Fucking kids!” The guard in front screams, words still slurred. In his anger, he aims drunkenly in the alleyway, hurling an empty bottle. You, at the back of the group, are the one closest to the guards standing at the entrance the alleyway. In his inaccurate aim, the bottle doesn’t make it far. However, it’s with enough force that it snags your left ankle, the glass shattering upon impact. You cry out in pain, forcing yourself to take another few steps to emerge from the other end of the alleyway before you crumble, unable to support your own weight.

You hear Vi’s voice, but it seems far away. All you can feel is the immense pain shooting through your leg. She’s at your side in a matter of seconds, scooping you up in a princess-carry that seems almost too easy.

“Shit” she mutters to herself as she jogs through the neon-glowing lights of Zaun. “Are you okay?”

“Ah-“ you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on anything else besides your ankle. “Yeah just— just hurts.”

“It’s okay,” Vi exhales. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You vaguely wonder if she’s saying that more to comfort you or herself.

It’s not long before you’re at Vander’s. Vi’s more careful than usual, not rushing down the steps as she usually does. She’s careful as so not to jostle your ankle, carefully laying you across the old, worn couch in the front room. “Okay,” she huffs. “Just…stay here for a second. Mylo, Claggor,” she addresses them. “Go see if the bottles got back to Benzo’s.”

Mylo opens his mouth, but he’s immediately silenced with a look from Claggor, both of them exiting the room with haste. They know not to mess with Vi when her tone drops, especially if it’s to do with you.

Vi darts off to grab some supplies, while Powder sits next to you with big, rounded eyes. “I’m sorry,” her voice trembles a little. “If I didn’t fall, the guards wouldn’t have chased us, and then you wouldn’t be hurt.”

You swallow thickly, pushing down the pain before you sigh shakily, reaching out to touch her arm. “It’s not your fault. Everyone trips sometimes. You did well tonight; don’t blame yourself.”

Powder hesitates, her voice small. “You don’t think I’m a jinx?”

“No,” your eyebrows knit together, concern for her momentarily overtaking your injury. “You’re not a jinx, Powder. You’re so strong: you’ve gotten us so much stuff on jobs. We wouldn’t get nearly as much as we do without you. We need you with us. If anything, I’m the weak link. You’re amazing, okay?”

Powder nods, wrapping her smaller arms around one of yours and tucking her face into your shoulder from beside you. “You’re not a weak link. Things only got better after you came to live with us.”

You smile despite it all, gently toying with the ends of the locks of her hair. “You’re my favorite, you know?”

Powder draws back, eyes wide and eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?” She asks, astonished hope written all over her features. “What about Vi?”

“Don’t tell her,” you whisper, your smile turning sly: the kind that conveys a treasured secret. Powder just beams, returning to her clinging. Vi is your favorite, of course, but you can’t help your soft spot for her younger sister.

Vi returns a few moments later with a bottle of some kind of antiseptic, a cloth, and some bandages. She sits down on the coffee table in front of you, gently propping your ankle up on her knee. You’re bleeding a little from where the glass had cut, and your ankle hurts from the impact. Luckily, since the bottle was empty, it doesn’t seem to have done any permanent damage.

After examining the cuts to make sure that there isn’t any glass in them, Vi exhales in relief. “You’re lucky the glass broke in big pieces and didn’t get in these,” she murmurs, uncorking the bottle just as she’s seen Vander do countless times. “This is going to hurt a little.”

You wince as the cloth doused in the antiseptic touches your cuts, but Vi’s touch is soothing, and it’s over quickly. “Okay, we’re all done. You did so good,” she sighs, unwrapping some bandages to wrap your ankle.

“Thank you,” you mumble, glancing up to meet her eyes.

“Of course,” Vi exhales shakily. “Gods, I- I was so scared when you got hurt. I don’t know what I would have done if-"

“I didn’t,” you cut off her dangerous train of thought to reassure her. “I’m okay, it’s just my ankle.”

“You don’t understand,” she shakes her head as she finishes wrapping your ankle. “I can’t lose you. I’d be so lost without you.

“You won’t,” you reach forward to take her hand in yours, squeezing gently. “We’ll deal with whatever happens.”

Vi offers you a half-smile before her eyes dart to an exhausted Powder beside you. “Okay, both of you should rest.” She lifts you in her arms once again, Powder trailing sleepily behind both of you to the bedroom the three of you share upstairs.

Vi sets you on your bed, turning to tuck Powder in before slipping under your blankets beside you. She and Powder used to share a bed, but in the past weeks, she’s been more content sleeping beside you.

And maybe it’s your injury, maybe it’s your exhaustion, maybe it’s the way you’re overcome with gratitude for her. But when Vi wraps her arms around you in a hold that promises to protect you, you let out a sleepy murmur. “I love you.”

Vi’s breath catches, and you swear that you can feel her heartbeat increase from where your head is against her chest. She stills before she squeezes you just a little tighter. “I love you too.”

A/N: Your friendship w Powder is going to be important to the story guys I PROMISE!

Anyways! Took me forever to get the motivation to write this chapter, but we're back with Labyrinth updates! So, so excited for this fic, and we'll be meeting adult!Vi very soon... ;)

PSA to my Caitlyn lovers that follow me: I still love my wife sm and will still be posting her the most. I just also really liked this Vi idea, so this will be ongoing at the same time.

Sending love <333

~Cherry 🍒

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