#and that's why there's not a non answer option- i really want to know

[romanianradfemmefatale]

I have asked many trans masculine and non binary afab people why they identify as such,and I have so too in the past,and the answers have been very consistent.

They feel like they never fit into either gender frame or speciffically into being feminine.

They feel like just humans,not girls.

They feel uncomfortable being percieved as female and by extension having the body parts that signify their gender to other people.

If any trans identified female is reading this I want you to know that this is normal and it is not a sign that you are non binary or a man.

Gender is a social construct,and most importantly it is not a spectrum or a binary, it's a hierarchy. The reason you feel uncomfortable with femininity is because it is uncomfortable,it is opressive. I understand that the option of distancing yourself from the label altogether is tempting,but it is not a solution. You probably already know that sexism doesn't vanish if you go by different pronouns,and even if you transition you might still not find happiness or escape from womanhood.

I know you are scared of interacting with terf content,first of all because you would be shunned from your community for even liking a post made by a radfem,and for this I want you to start questioning gender ideology. We have a bunch of resources and books about what gender really is and why we should abolish it instead of clinging to it and adding to the system. Nobody has to know that you are doing this,and you don't have to agree with us,but a community that forbids you from accessing a different perspective is not healthy,in fact I would go as for as to say it is culty.

I used to be just like you,scared to even consider gender critical thought,when you find yourself afraid of asking questions it is most crucial that you do just that.

But you will find a lot more freeing because you will realise you don't need to alter your body in any way to fit a certain box,you are a human female,and that is awsome,you are a human female and you don't need to dress a certain way or act a certain way to be so. Abandon gender forever,we are sort of "agender" as well,despite what people have told you,we are not trad wives and bio essentialists. We just acknowledge the material reality that shapes oir lives,which is sexism and sex based opression.

[mochinomnoms]

Imagine asking the jade and/or floyd to go swimming. Or while they are swimming you just join them. Now the eel twins keep imagining a future with you cause apparently moray eels do synchronized swimming with their mates. Just to add to the chaos you will probably be non the wiser to the deeper meaning of their careless actions.

I think it's especially funny if one twin is doing the "dance" with you while the other is on the other side of the water, watching with a knowing look.

The real question is how do they proceed to bully their brother over it?

Floyd

The obvious option for Floyd is to have him be very blunt and loud in his teasing, but I offer a different idea. You have no clue what the significance of the dance is, for all you know it's just Jade playing around! And Floyd just wants to play!

"You don't mind if I dance with them too, right Jaaaade?"

Floyd doesn't even wait for him to answer as he swipes your hand and spins you around him in the water. It's quite fun, but if you pay attention, Floyd is still keeping a rather wide berth of room between you two. Compared to Jade, who was twirling with you held close to him, it's practically conservative! Fortunately for him, he's good at hiding his frustration, so you can't really tell he's bothered until Floyd gets just a bit too close. This makes Jade quickly and smoothly snatches you back into his arms and far away from his annoying brother. >:(

Jade

Jade is just a bit meaner than his brother, as he's more than happy to make little comments about Floyd as he dances with you. He just lives to prod at Floyd just to see how long it takes for him to either throw hands or decide he's now bored because Jade wouldn't stop bothering him.

"Oya, getting rather touchy aren't we Floyd? Should I be informing mother about a new addition to the family?"

Floyd nonstop smacks with the tip of his tail do nothing to deter him as Jade follows you two, still making pointed remarks. First, he mentions if his brother would prefer privacy. Then he asks you if you ever had a chance to learn more about mer culture. You're confused as to why Jade is mentioning courting practices, but have no chance to ask him what he's talking about before Floyd is throwing himself at Jade and beating his ass.

[anti-terf-posts]

ok this isn’t to start discourse (if you’re going to talk about it in the notes, please be civil), but i really want to know;

no, there is no bald option. choose one or scroll away. also please reblog for a larger sample size !!

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 23 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mentions of drugs (nothing graphic), descriptive SMUT (pet names and a sprinkle of worship included, beware), fluff and too much flirting to be allowed, some angst, SLOW BURN

words: 19.8k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 23 ► in this open warfare, i won't fight fair, and in your waking moments, i will be there

The next morning, you and Jungkook took Minjun, Luna, and Maggie to a small restaurant—unreasonably far from your hotel in London—to have a late breakfast and to plot. The five of you were a lot more concerned with the latter, and the bacon and egg sandwiches on your plates were relegated to mere decoration.

You had already discussed your plan with Luna and Maggie over the phone last night, but you wanted to meet everyone in person to ensure you were all on the same page, and to inform Jungkook of his role (which was intentionally non-existent).

You believed that the fewer members of Rated Riot got tangled up in Sid’s slimy web, the lower the risk of collateral damage. Ideally, you would have left Jungkook out entirely. But his friendship with Sid made him a linchpin in the machinations of your scheme—he would be the most affected if something went awry.

“This plan relies heavily on the circumstances, I admit,” you said, while your friends feigned interest in their food to avoid the disapproving glances of the restaurant staff. “But maybe that will work to our advantage because we will hardly have to do anything. We will draw the authorities’ attention to Sid, and that’s it. He’ll do the rest himself.”

“Yeah,” Minjun added as your primary accomplice in this scheme. He was busy trying to stop his napkins from blowing away in the fierce wind on the restaurant’s terrace. “And that’s why we need Jude to let us into their hotel room—”

“Wait,” had become Jungkook’s new favourite word. He used it now, too. “And are we sure that Jude won’t change his mind?”

Maggie and Luna turned to you, mirroring Jungkook’s skepticism.

“We’re not,” you admitted. You were aware of the risk, but time has never been more of the essence, and Jude was your best option. “We’re not telling him too much and hoping for the best.”

“And to be honest,” Minjun added, “the fact that she gave him that laundry list of shit to do—”

“Wait,” Jungkook said again. “What list?”

You waved off his question, but Minjun answered on your behalf, clinging to this as if it was the only convincing evidence the five of you had against Jude changing his mind.

“Like, vitamins and stuff,” he explained. “To ease his withdrawals. I don’t know if he followed her instructions, but anyone could see how much it meant to him, just the fact that she cared enough. Maybe that’ll be what keeps him on our side, even though he’s back with Sid right now.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose in clear disapproval, although you knew she would have reacted the same way if she’d seen Jude—her heart was bigger than her head, bless her.

“He’s done nothing to deserve this from you,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, he—yeah,” Jungkook agreed, the confidence in his voice wavering as he alternated between gratitude for your concern about Jude, and guilt for putting you in this position. “You didn’t have to help him.”

“He’s really not doing well,” you said. “And don’t think I’m so kind, I acted largely out of my own self-interest. We need him for our plan.”

Jungkook recalled Jude’s sneezing, his shivers in forty-degree heat, and his nausea. All of his symptoms always came and went without warning, but the memory of someone going out of their way for him was likely to stay.

“Okay,” Jungkook acquiesced. “That’s—let’s keep going.”

“We won’t need to involve Jude every step of the way, though, right?” Luna clarified. “I mean, I assumed we’d mainly need him to get rid of whatever Sid has in his phone gallery.”

“Yeah, but not just—we’re not just deleting the videos with Jungkook,” you said, glancing at Minjun, who had supported you wholeheartedly when you mentioned this part of the plan to him. He nodded now, too, encouraging you to explain. “We’ll delete everything he has in his Cloud storage and factory reset his phone. I doubt Sid had enough sense to back up his files to an external drive, so this will clear every copy of everything he has on there.”

Maggie’s eyes finally lit up with lively excitement, Luna nodded in agreement, and you felt a smile forming on your own lips, too.

Jungkook, on the other hand, appeared almost disappointed.

“W-we don’t have to go through all of this just to delete those videos,” he said, fixing his gaze on his untouched cup of matcha latte; the artwork on the surface had begun to blur. “Those things happened. I did all of that shit, and Sid recorded it. That’s who I was back then, and maybe I shouldn’t try to—”

You interrupted his words—the ones you’d already heard before—with a gentle touch of your hand over his restless fingers, and Jungkook stilled, turning to you.

“No, those videos are not who you are. You are the one who decides who you are,” you reiterated once more and the table fell silent around you as if everyone had witnessed something they were not supposed to. “And if you want to leave those things in the past, you should be able to. Sid has no right to bring it up now.”

“But if we lock Sid up,” he persisted, “then maybe those videos won’t matter anyway.”

“He could publish them,” Minjun countered. “He sent them directly to you now, but he could post them publicly later. I’m sure he’d find a way to do that even behind bars.”

Jungkook felt a rush of dizziness and he was very grateful that you’d pressed your hand on his. Minjun was right. Sid had done something like this before when he’d posted your picture; he clearly wasn’t above making private matters public.

“We would leave the videos be, let Sid have them, whatever,” you continued, reading the colour on his face, “but he wants to use them against you. He’s cutting them up to paint you as an irresponsible asshole. And you’re not an asshole, Jungkook.”

“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “And I talked to Jude about an hour ago. He sounded sober, which is shocking to me, but, anyway—Sid has plans to go out tonight, so Jude should be able to do this tomorrow morning while Sid’s still passed out.”

The whole terrace of the restaurant seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as soon as he said that, the clink of cutlery and the muffled chatter around you growing tense.

Jungkook, even dizzier now, turned back to you once more. You gave him a small nod.

He took a breath and nodded back. “Okay. Alright. Fine. Let’s do it.”

“Good!” Maggie cheered from across the table. She turned to Jungkook, and you watched as her reassuring tone chased the last doubts from his eyes. “Even without those videos, we need to do this to get back at Sid. And I know this will do just that. I’d be tearing my hair out if someone cleansed my Cloud.”

You noticed that Maggie was much more vigilant with her phone today, hardly letting it out of her sight. She’d improved her security measures and had to enter her passcode every time she wanted to reply to a text today, because the facial recognition struggled to recognise the wind in her hair. This was the reason she hadn’t bothered with it before, but Sid had taught her a valuable lesson.

You gave your friend an agreeing nod and settled against the back of your chair.

Luna sat on your other side, leaning her elbows on the table, and she quickly noted the way Jungkook’s eyes widened when you pulled back, as if you had torn off a piece of his skin. She glanced at Maggie, who noticed nothing and kept checking the time on her phone as if she was late for another meeting to plan someone’s arrest.

Somewhat disappointed, Luna turned back to you, her grin doubling in size to compensate for her lack of company in teasing you.

“One big problem,” you said, focused on the intricacies of your plan and, therefore, unaware of your surroundings, “lies in our next steps. If we manage to get Sid arrested, he will likely weaponise his friendship with Jungkook. He’ll try to make it seem like they’re as close as brothers, and if he’s going to jail for meth possession, then Jungkook is probably doing drugs, too.”

You pulled your phone out from your bag and allowed for the weight of your words to settle on the table like a heavy grey tablecloth while you opened your gallery.

“So, this morning,” you continued, “Maggie and I put something together. This is a list of people who are banned from Rated Riot’s shows.”

You passed your phone to Luna first. She looked at the screen, nodded, and handed the phone to Maggie, who smiled to herself right away—she had designed the layout of the list and was very pleased with it.

By the time your phone reached Jungkook, he was already squirming in his chair. As he examined the list of names, displayed in bold white letters on a black background with a crumpled paper texture that Maggie had crafted and digitalised herself, he realised that the only name he recognised was Sid’s.

He looked up. “But if you post that—that’s—isn’t it supposed to be confidential?”

“I won’t post it,” you said. “We’ll leak it.”

“Oh.” A gleam of affection suddenly sparkled in his eyes. He felt a little like he’d just met you for the first time, all over again. “Can we do that?

Maggie reached across the table, snatching your phone from Jungkook’s hand to see the picture of the list again. She scrutinised the names for a minute as if trying to uncover the social security numbers of the people listed.

“No,” you replied. “But Sid never played fair, so we’re simply levelling the playing field. The other names on the list are made up anyway. They’re generic enough to match someone on Facebook, but no one will know which person is on this list.”

“But they’ll recognise Sid,” Maggie pointed out, squinting at your phone. “Even though he’s listed as Isidore here. Right?”

“That’s him, yeah,” you confirmed. “And you’re right. Everyone will recognise Sid. We’ll leak this before he gets arrested, and anything he says after that will just be taken as blatant slander.”

Jungkook took another deep breath and glanced at your phone, which Maggie slid towards you across the table. It bumped against the corner of your empty water glass.

“Won’t there be consequences if something else leaks?” he asked, his teeth grazing his bottom lip.

“Yeah, I was thinking that, too,” you admitted. “But then, Luna texted me a brilliant idea last night.”

You gestured towards your friend, and she continued.

“It’ll be accidental,” she explained. “Maggie usually posts backstage pictures on her Instagram. She has almost as many followers as the main account of your band at this point. So, later today, she will post a new set of pictures, and this list of names will just happen to be visible in some shots. Just a coincidence, really. And then we hope that one of your fans will notice it, zoom in, catch Sid’s name, and share it.”

Jungkook looked down, nodding to himself. He realised that Sid stood little chance against the collective resolve of everyone at this table.

“They will notice it,” he said. “I don’t doubt it.”

“We’ll have to rely on them to spread this,” you added. “Even though this list isn’t really something we need to hide. It’s just, you know, sort of customary in the industry to keep your dirty laundry to yourself.”

“Alright,” Jungkook said, sensing the weight of everyone’s gaze on him. He had the feeling that everyone was waiting for his final approval to move forward with this plan. “So, uh, Maggie won’t get into trouble for posting it?”

“Hmm?” Maggie looked up from her phone at the sound of her name. “Oh. No. I’m the photographer. As long as I get good shots, I never get in trouble. And this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a picture that reveals more than I intended.”

She gave you a sheepish look, and you shook your head, sensing where the guilt in her eyes stemmed from. Maggie knew that Sid was behind the chaos caused by the bathtub picture, but she still felt a gnawing sense of responsibility because she was the one who had taken the picture.

“Alright. You, uh—you guys really put a lot of thought into this,” Jungkook remarked, looking at you first, then at your friends, and finally at Minjun on his other side. “I’m, uh—I-I’m actually a little afraid of you.”

Luna and Minjun snickered—Maggie was back on her phone, but she was smiling, too—and their excitement made you feel much more optimistic.

“Good,” you said, reaching out to touch Jungkook’s hand again. He immediately turned his hand round and firmly clasped yours—to ensure you wouldn’t pull away this time. “Sid should be, too.”

A tense silence settled over the table, punctuated by the subdued conversations on the terrace.

For the first time since you arrived at the restaurant, Jungkook finally took a sip of his coffee. It tasted bitter and lukewarm. You refrained from touching yours, but accepted a bite of Luna’s tiramisu. Everyone else at the table seemed to remember simultaneously that they had ordered food when they got here.

“Uh,” Maggie spoke up after a second, still chewing on the brown crust of her bacon and egg tart. “Is this a safe space for us to voice our, uh, concerns?”

You straightened in your seat, bracing yourself before she’s even said anything. Jungkook sensed your growing anxiety and squeezed your hand.

“Of course,” you replied, keeping your voice steady.

“Okay.” Maggie swallowed and set down her fork after taking exactly one and a half bites. “Well, I’m worried that Sid will say something provocative and one of us will end up getting arrested for assault.”

There was something absurdly comical in her question—or the potential outcome it suggested—and you could see Minjun quickly lower his head to conceal his broad smile.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was extremely pleased that no one turned to look at him, the person who had, more or less, already assaulted Sid before. It comforted him to know that everyone here would have loved to smack Sid upright in the head, too.

“That’s a great point,” you said, clearing your throat. “If he provokes you—well, then you might have a legitimate reason to, uh, land a good punch. You probably wouldn’t be held in custody too long for that. There’s no premeditation, you acted on impulse because of something he said.”

Minjun raised an eyebrow at you from across the table.

“I thought our focus was drug laws,” he said. “Did you research assault, too?”

“I researched assault laws the day I met Sid,” you deadpanned.

He snorted. “Yeah, fair enough.”

“Not to mention, we can always argue it’s self-defence,” Luna added, prodding her sandwich with a toothpick as if it were a not-quite-dead bug. “Sid is very—let’s say, aggressive.”

“That’s true,” Minjun agreed. “Especially when he’s irritated.”

The energy around the table had increased considerably; everyone seemed to have something to say about possible reasons to hit Sid. Maggie was already listing five ways to throw a punch that would knock out your opponent—she had a WikiHow article open and was illustrating it with enthusiastic demonstrations on Minjun.

You realised, quite suddenly, how happy you were to sit here with your friends. They were smart and cunning enough to rob a bank, escape a prison, and start a money laundering scheme all in a week, but they chose to be sweet and loving and a little vengeful instead. You felt almost giddy.

“He wouldn’t throw the first punch, though,” Jungkook interjected with a hint of frustrated sorrow. Maggie halted her research, retracting her fist from Minjun’s cheek. “He’ll just keep running his mouth until you strike him. And he’ll make sure the provocation is very minimal.”

“Well, sure, but who at this table will attest to any of that?” Luna questioned, undeterred. “Everyone who witnessed Sid throwing the first punch, raise your hands.”

All of you raised your hands in perfect synchronisation, and Jungkook felt himself smile again.

He had never doubted the success of your plan, even if he doubted the details. But sitting here now, while all of you held your hands up, he was fully convinced that this meeting marked the beginning of the end for Sid.

“Right. Okay,” he said. “I like how this is looking.”

“Me too,” Maggie said, locking her phone and slouching in her chair. “I feel better now. Didn’t want to spend the night at the police station.”

“You wouldn’t,” Luna assured her. “We’d bail you out.”

She snickered. “That’s good to—”

Jungkook suddenly jumped up in his chair, interrupting her.

“What about Sid’s bail?” he asked urgently. “Can he—could he pay for his release?”

Everyone at the table turned to you once more. When you and Minjun did your research yesterday, your focus had quickly turned from penalties to potential loopholes that Sid might use with his money, so you understood their sudden concern.

“No,” you said. “Apparently, it doesn’t work like that here. They would give him bail automatically; he wouldn’t have to pay. But they need to charge him with a specific offence first, and they won’t know the exact charges until they know what, uh, substances he was carrying on him and keeping in his hotel room—oh, and how much. Not to mention, bail may be denied if there is a risk that he’ll commit further crimes. And we know Sid is violent. He will not sit idly in his little cell.”

“Yeah,” Minjun agreed. “We’re 95% sure he won’t be given bail.”

You nodded, grateful for his confidence.

“So, we definitely won’t be in London by the time they charge him,” Maggie concluded, frowning. She regretted not ordering whiskey instead of espresso; alcohol helped her think.

“Definitely not,” you confirmed. “Our plan concludes with Sid’s arrest, everything else is not our problem anymore. And we’re only participating in this as the staff of Rated Riot, so the only people who will have to speak to the police are those who will be present when they arrive at the venue tomorrow. So, ideally, only Luna, Mick, and me. That’s it. That’s as far as we’re getting involved.”

“Wait,” Jungkook said. He understood the need for Mick’s presence and felt comforted that you’d have someone from security with you, but now he was worried about your friend. “Why Luna?”

“We need an additional witness to observe Sid’s erratic behaviour,” Luna explained. “We thought it’d be better to have someone random, and not just your manager and head of security there.”

Jungkook kept his gaze on hers. “How do you know he’ll behave erratically?”

She gave him a look.

“Right.” He leaned back in his seat. “Good point. Okay.”

He already knew that the odds were good that Sid would try to provoke you tomorrow, but now he realised that even if Sid suddenly decided to be docile, it wouldn’t matter. The five of you were tight as a glove—Sid could sit in a corner, purring and meowing, and you would all collectively claim that he was threatening you.

Finally, Jungkook realised that he had narrowly escaped something dreadful, and he felt very grateful to find himself at this table, and not on the other side of this plan.

“I, uh—this isn’t a concern exactly,” you said after a minute. “But I have to say that a lot of this hinges on Sid trusting my word, and I’m—well, I’m not sure if he’ll care about anything I tell him.”

Minjun looked almost offended. He was the one who devised this strategy after you told him that you needed a way to quickly draw the attention of the authorities to Sid.

Why don’t you call him? Minjun had suggested. And invite him to meet you.

You had thought he’d decided to go insane right before talking to you. But you’d kept your suspicions to yourself because, ultimately, calling Sid seemed like the only option. It felt unfair, however, not to mention your doubts now.

“Actually, I agree,” Jungkook said, giving you a long look. “I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with any of that. You’ll have to be alone in a room with Sid. And we can’t be sure that he won’t—”

“Sid will care,” Minjun asserted, ignoring everything Jungkook had said. He kept his gaze on you, his certainty almost as intimidating as it was comforting. “Maybe not because he has feelings for you, but because you’re Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

Maggie looked up from her phone, surprised about the possibility of Sid having any feelings at all, and turned to Luna. The two of them finally exchanged the look that Luna had been waiting for.

“And you’re okay with doing this?” Jungkook asked you, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. He was careful not to miss any hint of dishonesty.

“I’m okay if this actually works,” you said. “If Sid shows up. If we get him arrested. I’m willing to try this if you’re all sure that we’ll succeed. And I wouldn’t be all by myself anyway.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about that part,” Maggie said to Jungkook, rolling up her sleeves for emphasis. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be at the scene tomorrow, but she felt she had a personal debt to settle with Sid, so she would find a way to interfere if she had to. “I can fight.”

Jungkook looked at her in a way that was more amused than it was skeptical—Maggie was very small in size, but very big in energy—and she tried to flex her arms to prove her point.

“I believe you,” he said, a smile breaking through his uncertainty. “I just don’t like that this will all be happening during our show. I won’t be there with you.”

“That’s just the plan,” you said. “We need to keep you away from him so that anything he says later won’t carry any weight. He’s obsessed with you and he has problems, and you’ve been distancing yourself from him for some time now. We’ll release an official statement about your, uh, separation once we’re done with him. And the leaked blacklist will back up our claims.”

A resigned acceptance clouded Jungkook’s features: he understood that this was the right decision, but he couldn’t help feeling unhappy about it. However, although he would have typically complained and whined about this—and you expected him to—now his posture was stoic.

You felt a little dispirited. You knew you wouldn’t joke around much today, but Jungkook’s unusually serious demeanour emphasised the gravity of the situation even more.

“Okay,” Minjun said. “Any other concerns?”

You shifted your gaze to him.

“Actually, I have another one,” you said. “I’m also worried about how this will affect your parents.”

The two girls beside you exchanged another glance—you hadn’t explained Minjun’s family’s dependence on Sid’s mother yet.

“If Sid’s in prison?” Minjun asked, unperturbed. “Well, their stocks will probably drop, so it will be weird to throw a party. I think we’ll celebrate quietly.”

You glanced at Jungkook, and he met your eye with an amused grin.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked Minjun then.

“Are you kidding?” Minjun looked optimistic and upbeat. He seemed ready to take on the world, and locking up Sid was just the first step. “We should have done this years ago.”

Maggie suddenly slammed her palm on the table, forcing everyone’s coffee cups to rattle against the plates.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaimed, and her excitement quickly spread to the rest of the table.

“I agree,” Luna added, much quieter. “But maybe it’s time we headed out. The people at the next table are whispering and, uh, pointing at Jungkook.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and turned to you instead of looking around, his expression filled with a shocked wonder. He had only been recognised in public a handful of times since Rated Riot started out, and each instance had left an indelible mark on him.

You gave him a smile and a nod that spurred him out of his chair and towards the people at the neighbouring table, all of whom held their breaths when he stood up.

You glanced back at your friends—all smiling as they watched Jungkook introduce himself and singlehandedly cut off the air supply of four different people—and you thought about how wonderful it would have been if you had met Maggie and Luna earlier. If Jungkook and Minjun had stopped entertaining Sid’s whims sooner. If you and Jungkook had never broken up at all.

Perhaps, you thought, there was an alternative universe where you’d known and loved these people your whole life. You felt very close to that universe now.

Just as you finished your breakfast—where the five of you consumed one cup of coffee and half a slice of tiramisu in total—you executed the first step of your plan and sent a text message to Sid. It was innocuous, just a conversational, “are you ever going to stop doing this?” but it was meant to serve as a subtle precursor—so as not to approach him out of the blue tomorrow.

Then, as the five of you exited the restaurant, Maggie got enthralled by the most gracious little corgi sitting at a table, and dragged Luna and Minjun (who looked like he was not sure what was happening) back inside to ask for pictures. You and Jungkook opted for a scenic route back to the hotel instead.

Although the day was overcast, the sky did not look particularly ominous, offering instead an unexpected serenity that you thought you could use to clear your thoughts.

Interestingly, fresh air was not what you really needed at all. It was his hand holding yours as you strolled past extravagant hotels and expensive restaurants near Hyde Park, weaving through crowds of rushing tourists and cranky locals.

You felt significantly lighter with your hand in his, but Jungkook still appeared troubled. The shadows on his face were far more pronounced than those in the sky.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked.

He let out a weary sigh as he met your gaze. He seemed overwhelmed—as though his head was trying very hard to grow twice as large to contain all his thoughts, while the rest of his body fought desperately to resist the growth.

“I—well, I didn’t want to say this in front of everyone,” he started slowly, “but I’m worried about you.”

“Me?” You frowned. “Wh—because of Sid?”

“Because you’re doing all of this on top of your other responsibilities,” he said. “I don’t want you to burn out.”

Your expression visibly softened, but dark edges of guilt still coated the appreciation in your eyes. You felt disappointed in yourself—for letting it get so far that, over a week later, Jungkook still sometimes looked at you as though you might faint any second.

“That won’t happen,” you replied, your tone gentle, but determined. “I promise. And I’m not alone. I have so much help. And this won’t—it’s just a few days. We deal with it tomorrow, and it’s over.”

“Okay. But what if it’s not?” he questioned then. “We’re heading to Paris right after we, potentially, deal with Sid. And what if it doesn’t work, and we’re not here to fix it?”

You had to admit, this same possibility had been weighing on your mind ever since Jude first mentioned the bags of drugs in Sid’s hotel room. However, as soon as you saw Jungkook’s solemn features, you found yourself resisting all these worries. You would figure it out, no matter what happened, just so he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Then it won’t work.”

“He’ll be furious,” Jungkook said. “Even more vindictive than before.”

“I know,” you replied. “But no matter what he decides to do, we won’t back down, either.”

Jungkook frowned so deeply that several new wrinkles declared permanent residence between his brows. He dreaded the idea of spending a lifetime seeking revenge.

You sensed the reason for his apprehension—you wanted this over quickly, too—and instinctively squeezed his hand.

“I’m with you,” you said, reaching for your phone to check if Sid had reacted to your text. “And I told you, I’m not entirely convinced that this will work, either. I mean, here, look. Sid hasn’t replied. But if this plan falls through, we’ll come up with something else. Maybe something—well, less grand.”

He glanced at your phone, toying with his lip ring between his teeth. The prospect of failure felt more daunting with each second that Sid remained free to do whatever he pleased.

Jungkook didn’t want to do something else. He wanted this to work.

“Maybe he hasn’t replied because Jude deleted everything,” he suggested, searching for a plausible explanation that aligned with your plan. “Including the texts.”

“No, that’s tomorrow,” you reminded him. He groaned. “We need—Sid needs to notice my texts first. Then we delete them. I’ll use a disposable SIM card tomorrow, so there’s no trace that I ever contacted him.”

Jungkook felt like his head had already grown far too large for his body. He was a bit unsteady on his feet and clutched your hand tighter.

“Right,” he said. “Okay. That—yeah, no.” He lifted your intertwined hands to scratch something at his forehead. “My head is spinning. I can’t remember that much.”

You gave him a sympathetic nod. “That’s fine.”

“I’m not saying that I’d be too dumb to follow a plan like this,” he felt the need to insist.

“I didn’t think that.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued. “There’s a lot.”

You nodded in exaggerated agreement again. “Mhmm.”

His eagerness to prove his intelligence to you was very endearing. But it was a little funny, too, and Jungkook stopped walking to study your expression more closely. After a moment, he came to an appalling conclusion.

“You think I’m dumb,” he said.

A wide smile finally broke out on your face. “I think you’re very pretty.”

“Very pr—okay.” His expression shifted as you laughed, pulling on his hand to continue walking after an elderly couple gave you a rather well-deserved disapproving look for blocking their path. “Pretty and dumb. Is that your type?”

“It is,” you said, grinning. “That’s why you’re the only boyfriend I’ve had.”

He raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “Oh—wow. Wow. I am both very flattered and very offended.”

You chuckled, gently pushing his shoulder with yours. Jungkook shook his head and finally smiled, too. But right as he prepared to say something else, he ended up having to quickly yank your hand, pulling you into him and out of the way of an oncoming bicycle.

“Shit,” you were breathless against his chest as the bike drove past, your hair whipping forcefully in the wind, “thank you.”

“Pretty and dumb,” he said, allowing you to take a step away from him now that the danger has passed, “but with great reflexes, huh?”

You laughed again, leaning into him when you did and successfully dissolving everything sharp and uncomfortable in his chest.

“I know you’re not dumb,” you said. “And let’s be realistic: Minjun and I had been simmering in the details of this plan for days. You just barely learned about it a few hours ago. We’ve got this. I wanted you to know what we’ll do, but I don’t want you to be involved at all.”

“Yeah. I—no, I just…” he faltered, weighing his next words. The thought of everything that would happen tomorrow made his stomach feel very heavy. “I feel like you’re trying to protect me from Sid by keeping me out of this, and I’m—I don’t know how that makes me feel.”

“We’re not just keeping you out, we’re keeping the whole band out,” you said. “I want to protect all four of you. And if anything, you’re the only member who isn’t entirely excluded. Does that… make it any better?”

Jungkook considered this for a moment.

“Not sure,” he said. “Because I’m still not participating.”

Exhaling softly, you looked around, searching for a quiet spot on the pavement where the two of you could step away from the crowd. Nearby, there were two traditional phone booths that tourists were gathered around, obstructing your view. Once you passed them, you noticed a parking meter right by the park gate that everyone seemed to avoid. You decided to pause there.

Jungkook glanced around before stopping in front of you, slightly unsettled by the large, dark green hedge covering the park fence, and all the bugs that emerged from it—bees, mostly. They all seemed very curious about him.

“Okay, look at it this way,” you began. “Sid has known you and Minjun since you were kids. He knows all your weak points. He can predict exactly how you and Minjun will react in any situation. Sure, you took him off guard when you gave up your Katana, but he can still read you very well. He doesn’t have that luxury with me, Luna, or Maggie. He’s less certain about our reactions. Who else could do this if not us?”

“Right,” Jungkook murmured. “But you’re still going out of your way for me, and I feel—”

“And why wouldn’t I?” you interrupted. “I love you.”

He thought he died for just a second and it felt surprisingly nice: he could feel something soft and warm against his skin—the phantom shivers of every time you’ve touched him before—and he could taste a sweet, lingering flavour on his tongue—from every time he felt your mouth against his own.

He would never tire of hearing you say you loved him. The only downside was that his chest usually attempted to collapse in on itself right after that, leaving him speechless for anywhere from a minute to several days.

“Not to mention,” you continued while Jungkook fought against the haze in his mind and the bumblebees around his neck. “Sid has long stopped at just you. With the videos and pictures he’s sending you, he’s threatening everyone on this tour. Anything that affects your reputation, affects the band and the staff, too. So, when you look at it like that, we’re really doing this for everyone.”

Finally, Jungkook managed to stop his thoughts from pulling him in every direction and anchored himself to this pavement right here—with you, and the persistent bugs, and the chattering of people as they walked past you.

He squeezed your hand that he had not let go—not now, and probably not ever, really—and exhaled.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “But I was the one who brought him here, and that’s—I guess that’s what’s bothering me right now.”

“You did bring him here,” you agreed.

“I—oh.” He looked up, his eyebrows knitting together. He had expected something else. An ‘I told you that was a shit decision’ or a sarcastic ‘yeah, and thanks for that’—but your kind expression did not change. “Y-yeah. I did.”

“But we’ll get him out,” you said.

Jungkook held your hand and observed you, trying to process this while simultaneously trying to figure out what was it about him that attracted these British bees to him so much. It couldn’t be his cologne, because you loved him far more than he’d allowed himself to believe. It couldn’t be his clothes, either, because you were looking at him like you believed anything was possible in this world, and he thought it really was.

He realised that to you, he must have appeared as if he were struggling to interpret prehistoric cave wall paintings, and this process was causing him immense pain. He cleared his throat.

“You don’t blame me?” he asked.

“For making a stupid decision?” you replied, and shrugged your shoulders after he nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He pressed his lips together, his expression a mixture of incredulity and pure delight.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

You were smiling again, and he was a little too proud to admit how much your loving eyes and your great mood soothed his anxiety.

“And what would I gain from punishing you?” you added. “You’ve already seen through Sid. You’ve had enough. You learned your lesson. You’re good.”

Jungkook felt his chest swell as though he’d swallowed the swarms of bees around him, and now they’ve built a cosy little home right on the hills of his heart.

“You think so?” he asked, his eyes glistening.

“Why do you look so excited?” you countered. “Do you have more dickhead friends I haven’t met yet?”

He chuckled, waving his hand around his face. “Can I answer that inside the park? I’m afraid these bees are in love with me.”

You had already noticed his struggle with the bees—it was hard not to, one was perched right on his shoulder—and you found your own apparent immunity to this new bee predicament especially entertaining.

“Want me to fight them for you?” you suggested.

“Oh, in a battle of who loves me more?” he quipped, swatting vigorously at three stubborn bees that were particularly intrigued in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ll all sting you at the same time, and whoever dies first, wins.”

He snorted. “These are bumblebees. They don’t die after they sting.”

“Oh, so maybe we should just stay here,” you teased. “You all seem to know quite a bit about each other already.”

He squinted at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you jealous I’ve grown so close to these bees?”

“Of course. They’re all over you.”

“I’d rather have you all over—”

“Public park!” you interjected hastily, cutting him off.

His laughter in response was unapologetic and infectious—you found yourself shaking your head to suppress a treacherous smile.

“Did you also research public indecency laws?” he asked, turning past the menacing, bee-infested hedge.

You followed him through the gates into the park, your fingers intertwined with his. The clouds above had thickened, and the wind had picked up, but there was nothing about this afternoon that Jungkook did not enjoy.

“Actually, I did,” you replied. “Because of that stunt you pulled in New York last year.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes for just a fleeting moment before he pursed his lips, distancing himself from the memory. A gentle breeze swept through the park, rustling leaves and carrying the scent of damp earth; it would rain soon.

“I don’t remember,” he declared.

“Really?” you responded wryly. You both knew very well that he remembered. “Nothing familiar to you about the busking that turned into half-naked dancing in the middle of the street?”

“Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“There was a lot more grinding than actual dancing, now that I think about it,” you pressed on. You noticed, through your peripherals, the way he scrunched his nose and furrowed his brows, evidently despising the memory he claimed he did not have. “Someone had drawn a crown of thorns on your forehead. You had a—sort of a cloth wrapped around your waist, and nothing else. Almost everyone on the face of the earth accused you of being in a sex cult after those pictures came out.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” he insisted. “They must have confused me with someone else.”

“Sure. They must have,” you relented, pouting your lips in mock-sympathy. “There are plenty of people in sex cults out there.”

“Exactly,” he replied, finally meeting your eyes.

Something about you bringing up this incident—“incidents” were a prominent category of his actions in his mind—reminded him of the videos Sid had sent him. However, with you, the feelings in his chest were vastly different.

You were playful. Lighthearted. Your love language was teasing the hell out of him.

Sid was venomous. Arrogant. Vile. His intentions were humiliation and destruction.

You were joking about a matter for which Jungkook undoubtedly owed you another apology. He could tell that you knew he would apologise eventually, but you were hoping—with every jest, every tender smile, every affectionate bite you sent his way—that he would not plunge himself into self-loathing again.

He wouldn’t. He had matured significantly since the day under discussion. He knew he had, even if it was easy to forget.

“I’m surprised how well you remember all that, actually,” he commented. “Are you secretly into sexual rituals?”

Your scoff returned his smile to his face.

“Oh, absolutely,” you said. “I keep a picture of you from that day on my desk at home. I look at it every night before I fall asleep.”

Jungkook kicked a few dry, scattered leaves on the pavement. When he glanced back at you, his grin bordered on ridiculous.

“I am aware that you’re trying to mock me right now,” he said, “but I feel obligated to inform you that I’m taking absolutely everything you say as a compliment.”

You nodded sagely. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

“Good,” he replied. “Please tell me more about how you look at pictures of me before you fall asleep every night.”

You tsked reproachfully at his grin.

“I take back what I said about you being smart,” you said. “You are the biggest idiot I’ve met.”

“Oh,” his face was jubilant, “but that just means you love me that much more, right?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I’m afraid so.”

He felt the swarms of bees in his chest, and they were buzzing incessantly—eager, restless, and yearning. They took every emotion he felt and spread them across his skin.

“I knew it,” he said, delighted by the look on your face. You were so captivating when you were trying to resist smiling; it was why he never stopped teasing you. “This must be awful for you.”

“Mmhm. It is,” you said. “You’re like a disease.”

He nodded, attempting a formal tone. “How bad is it?”

“Chronic and untreatable, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

A deep, vibrant laughter finally erupted from his chest, and he stopped walking. Tugging on your linked hands, he drew you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist before you could say another word.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low against your neck. “It’s not even funny how much.”

He rocked gently on his feet with you in his arms, and you could not tell if the vibrations you felt came from his chest or yours.

“More than the bees love you?” you asked, your hands sliding over his shoulders.

“Much more than the bees love me.”

“Oh, must be quite a lot, then.”

“It is,” he said, chuckling hopelessly. “It really fucking is.”

He tightened his already firm grip until he felt your deep exhale against the side of his neck. He held you and his heartbeat chased after yours while the bustling crowds, the rustling leaves, and the solemn park benches whispered incomprehensibly around you, their frustration about your public affection lost on you.

When he pulled away a minute—or ten—later, he realised that his cologne had brushed off on you. There was something wildly intoxicating about you smelling exactly like him, and he needed a minute to make the park stop spinning.

“I, um—” he started to say, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat, took your hand in his to continue down the park, and tried again. “Jokes aside, I feel—I really appreciate what you do for me. What you’re doing to fix my shit right now, and what you—what you’ve always done to fix my shit. I don’t say that enough. Thank you. For taking care of Sid, too.”

You shook your head. You knew you couldn’t tackle Sid alone—probably no one could.

“This is a team effort,” you replied. “If this works, you can bake us all a cake later.”

Jungkook no longer had even half of a doubt that this would work, one way or the other. And if he’d stayed with you longer, he would have easily started to believe that Rated Riot would be elected presidents, too—one after the other.

“I’m not much of a baker,” he said.

“I’ll help,” you offered.

“Your help,” he responded, his smile turning mischievous, “usually consists of walking around, eating chocolate sprinkles, and distracting me.”

It was your turn to look offended.

“I’m the only one who remembers how many eggs the recipe needs,” you retorted, dignified. “How do I distract you?”

“How can I remember the eggs when you’re dancing and singing around me?” he countered.

He noticed the way your chin quivered as you fought to maintain a serious expression.

“Well, that’s on you,” you said. “Any skilled chef knows to keep their staff busy so they wouldn’t have time to sing and dance. Also, don’t play good songs when we’re in the kitchen.”

“Alright, we’ll bake in silence,” he decided. “And you’ll do everything while I sit and order you around.”

The corners of your lips finally curled into a smirk.

“That’s interesting,” you said, your thumb lightly brushing over his as he swayed your hands. “Switching up the dynamics.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, very intrigued by the insinuation in your words. “You want me to order you around?”

“I mean…” You shrugged. “I’d like to see you try.”

He stopped walking suddenly, right in the midst of a group of senior ladies, forcing a few of them to gasp and walk around him with very exaggerated expressions of disbelief as though they’d never felt more wronged (there were a few obligatory comments about “kids these days,” too, of course).

Jungkook, undeterred, took a step to the right until he was standing in front of you.

“Kiss me,” he said.

The demand in his tone caught you off guard, but you tried to blink away your surprise. “I didn’t mean right now—”

“Kiss me,” he repeated more assertively.

You felt your stomach lighten and go for a little float inside you, like a loose helium-filled balloon.

“We are in the middle of a busy park,” you said, looking around. “We’re blocking—”

“Kiss me,” he interrupted again, his voice firm but lively, “or I won’t move.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, torn between amusement and apprehension as you battled his self-assured grin, while passersby shot disapproving glances at the two of you.

“See, there’s ordering people around,” you said, “and there’s acting like a three-year-old.”

He simply shrugged, relentless. “I see no difference.”

“Do I sound like a toddler when I tell you to do things?”

“Sometimes.”

His satisfied grin only gained prominence when you scoffed and looked away, rolling your eyes.

You questioned, sometimes, how you managed to put up with him for so long. But then you also questioned, much more often, how you’d survived without him at all.

“If I were a teacher,” you said, “you’d be in detention for disrupting everyone’s day.”

“Oh! And what would I have to do?” he teased, mischief gleaming proudly in his eyes. “Write an essay on the importance of respecting authority?”

“That might do you good, actually,” you retorted. “Maybe you should consider writing it anyway.”

He shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side. “Kiss me and I’ll do it.”

He looked so utterly unfazed that you did feel very compelled to lay your hands on him and do something.

He might have been one of the most exasperating people you’ve met in your life, always ready to say something cheeky no matter what you told him, always causing trouble wherever he went, never letting you breathe in peace for just one second.

You were outrageously grateful to have found him.

“People are staring at us,” you said, but there was no conviction in your voice. “We look like idiots.”

Jungkook admired your cautiousness, but he wanted you to let go of it. People would always stare; he just wanted you to kiss him.

“They’re staring because you’re defying authority,” he countered easily.

“Jungkook, just—”

“Oh, see?” he cut in, his tone triumphant. “Maybe you should be the one to write that essay.”

You groaned very demonstratively, but he saw the corners of your lips lift. Finally, you took a small step towards him and pressed your lips to his in a quick peck. He pulled you into him just as you attempted to pull away, and kissed you properly.

At last, the crowds disappeared, allowing you to dissolve in the warmth of his lips and come back to life with all the shivers that ran down your spine when he touched the back of your neck. You felt his smile and felt your own, too, when he brought his tongue over yours, deepening the kiss.

“You are insufferable,” you managed to mumble between kisses, and the affection in your voice was impossible to mistake for something else.

“I love you,” he whispered in response, each word sweet and sugary against your lips.

You kissed him once more—to soothe your racing heart—and then once more again—to soothe his—before you pulled away, whispering back, “I love you.”

Jungkook only managed half of a pleased “I—” before he felt a few soft, cold droplets land on his forehead and both of his cheeks. He raised his head.

“Is it me, or is it—”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, looking up at the angry clouds. “It’s raining.”

“Do you—should we go inside?” he asked, looking around.

There was no specific “inside” anywhere close to the two of you, but you looked at him again and spotted something at the very edge of the park behind him, right across a busy bike lane.

“There’s a little gazebo over there,” you suggested, pointing.

Jungkook turned around and seemed to have an epiphany when he noticed the crooked structure.

“In the—in the park,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a little weak in the knees. He took your hand in his again. “Let’s go.”

He led you straight into the bicycle traffic as he crossed the road, causing a commotion and undoubtedly endangering everyone’s lives—and not even realising it in his eagerness to get to the gazebo. You attempted to raise your hand in apology to the cyclists, but quickly realised that the smile on your face likely made the gesture seem mocking.

It occurred to you that you and Jungkook were being very disruptive today, very annoying, very much in everyone’s faces about your relationship. And you realised, as he pulled you past the groups of people running from the rain, that you did not actually mind this all that much. Or at all.

There was a certain beauty in the unapologetic way that people in love behaved in public—grinning at their phones, kissing at bus stops, holding hands on narrow streets barely wide enough for one person. Running across the park in the rain and stumbling into every puddle possible.

When you and Jungkook finally reached the gazebo, you were both drenched and breathless. And you realised, belatedly, that it was not a suitable shelter at all: there were no railings or benches, the roof was not only crooked, but obviously decaying, and the rain splattered you if you got too close to the edge.

But you’d been here before: caught in the rain on your way to the restaurant for your first date seven years ago, seeking refuge under a much sturdier roof of a similar gazebo in an empty park, while the vividly green trees—almost a rarity so late in September—whispered wearily from the heavy rain on their leaves.

You’d been here before, and you did not want to go anywhere else.

“I’m starting to think,” you began, “that there’s something about us that attracts rain.”

Jungkook was thinking this very thought and laughed so heartily that the rain stopped for just a second, shamed into silence by a sound far more charming than the eager pitter-patter against the roof.

“You think we could make some money out of it?” he joked, his eyes energetic. “Maybe add a little performance to it? Rain dance?”

“We might have accidentally performed one already,” you said, stepping closer to the edge of the gazebo to watch the raindrops splash against the damp ground.

“You’re right,” he agreed, taking your hand in his and guiding you to face him. “Let me see.”

He brought your hand to his chest and you watched, puzzled, as he closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate very hard on the sounds around him. People across the street screeched as they ran from the rain. A stubborn gull was screeching in the exact same way somewhere overhead.

Jungkook clutched your hand tighter and hummed. He was joking, clearly putting up a show, but you heard the faint sound of distant thunder, and the joy on his face turned luminous.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed as you laughed, and the rain, encouraged by your approval, began to pour even harder.

You watched him revel in this delightful coincidence—or an elusive sign—and allowed his radiant smile to bring back the memories that you had locked away in a box you didn’t dare touch unless you were half-asleep.

It had been raining on your first date seven years ago, but it had also been raining when he suggested that date. You’d felt invincible then, the only one staying dry in the whole world, as you nearly sprinted home from the party where he’d asked you out. You stumbled over the threshold of your dorm room, your shoes wet and slippery, and landed on your knees, shouting the news to your roommate, who was startled out of bed by your loud entrance.

This was the beginning of the happiness you’d felt almost every day since then. But this happiness came with a price: you would come to class and you could not rest, could not find it in yourself to calm down, until Jungkook arrived and took his usual seat behind you. You wouldn’t even have to look, you’d always know he had come because you’d feel a sudden sense of peace—and then you’d lock eyes with him across the room.

For years after this, even today, when you tried to find a period of your life where you’d felt the happiest, these were the moments that your mind returned to.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook asked, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek and bringing your focus back to the rainy moment with his touch.

“It—it’s been seven years and now we’re back in the rain,” you replied, distracted by the lingering echo of the years that have passed outside this gazebo. “Nothing’s changed.”

A faint smile danced on his lips.

“Yeah. Nothing important has,” he agreed. “I still love you.”

You met his gaze, a little thrown off. “W-what do you mean, still? That was our first date seven years ago.”

“Yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the confusion on your face. “Oh, did you think I asked you out right after I saw you? No, no. I spent a whole year absolutely fucking pining after you before I finally mustered the courage to ask you out.”

You assumed he might have liked you a little, based on the way he’d introduced himself to you. But you obviously didn’t know about his alleged year-long pining that preceded your first date. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe him, given your own year-long pining. It made little sense for the two of you to like each other for so long and not do anything about it.

On the other hand, considering the past few years, perhaps it made perfect sense.

Your heartbeat had sped up, so you argued childishly, “no, you didn’t.”

“I did. Ask anyone,” he said, grinning. He wasn’t as embarrassed about this as he used to be—and your surprise made it easier for him to admit everything. “I never knew how to love you quietly. But it still took me ages to talk to you even with everyone’s encouragement. And that, uh—our first conversation didn’t go very well.”

“Wait—what do you mean? It went very well,” you disagreed. “I remember everything you said word for word. ‘We have Sociology together, I saw you sleeping in class, very cute by the way, the professor does not know how to shut up, have you seen that new Studio Ghibli film, I recently watched their classic with some friends, My Neighbour Jungkook, I’m Totoro by the way, I thought maybe—wait—no—’”

He interrupted you once your smile had grown dangerously wide. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

“I would never!” you said through laughter. “I think I knew I was in it for life the moment you said all that.”

He had to look down because the bees inside him had multiplied, spreading rapidly to his head and his lungs and his stomach, and he was a little concerned that he’d start buzzing, too.

“Not one period, nothing,” you continued, a melancholic haze in your eyes. “Just commas and an endless stream of thought. You could have asked me to bury a body, I would have said yes.”

He smiled, but everything inside of him was turning upside down, returning to normal, then turning downside up.

Every time he remembered how he approached you seven years ago, he either felt a little uncomfortable or completely mortified. He’d never thought you’d remember that day so well and with such fondness.

“By the way,” you added when he did not speak, “you did look a little like you were about to confess to accidentally murdering my roommate when you started to speak.”

This finally made him chuckle, and he felt his skin thaw from the frozen state of amazement. He remembered hoping that you’d forget all about what he’d said that day. Now he realised he had never felt more thrilled that you remembered.

“I know,” he said. “I was shaking.”

“Yeah. I, um—” you trailed off, needing another minute. “I had a crush on you, too, actually. For a long while.”

His smile faded, replaced by a look of criminal disbelief. “You did not.”

You recognised your own suspicion in his words and smiled. However, unlike Jungkook, who owned up to his stressful pining and memorable first impression, you did not feel ready to confess to your silent sulking quite as easily.

“I did,” you said. “But you turned away every time I looked at you on campus, so I thought, oh, okay. That guy hates me for some reason. Nevermind.”

“I didn—I never—”

“I actually made a playlist before we met,” you added quickly before you could change your mind. “And I, uh, kept updating it throughout our relationship.”

You did not look at him when you said this, so you missed the befuddled look on his face.

“A pl—you made a playlist?” he repeated, his thoughts momentarily derailed. He couldn’t even hear the rain anymore. “And you never told me?”

“And I will continue to act like you don’t know about it,” you said.

He was too ecstatic to care. He hadn’t dared to imagine that he would have such a strong presence in your thoughts that you would create a playlist about him—for him? (he thought he might faint)—before you even met.

“No, b-but I’m supposed to be the one making grand gestures in our relationship, and you have a playlist about me? Ab-about us?” he questioned, almost frantic. “Is it—well, what songs are in it? About our relationship?”

You tried to put your words together, your slow, calculated breaths a stark contrast against his passionate energy. Another clap of thunder, unusually intense, rumbled in the sky.

“Sort of,” you finally answered. You thought that a playlist did not come anywhere close to everything he’d done and attempted to do for you, but you still struggled to articulate yourself. “Or songs that we both liked. Songs that we listened to together. Songs that we discovered on roadtrips—just, uh, stuff like that.”

He shook his head, every part of his skin itching with an unfathomable urge to hear these songs.

“You have to let me listen to it,” he stated.

“No,” you said, giving a determined shake of your head. “It’s enough that you know it exists.”

“I will absolutely never shut up about this,” he retorted, gesturing with his hands to emphasise his commitment to being annoying, “and I might end up telling more people.”

“I will kill you if I have to,” you warned.

“So I will haunt you, then,” he returned. “Is it on Spotify?”

You narrowed your eyes. “It’s private.”

“I am not above pulling a Sid and stealing your phone,” he said, resolute.

You snorted despite yourself.

“Okay. Fine,” you said. “Maybe I’ll give you the link after.”

Jungkook waited for further clarification, but you decided you’d said enough.

He was confused. He no longer had any clear delineations of time in his life—ever since he found you again, his whole life had shifted to “after.”

“After—after Sid?” he asked.

“After everything,” you replied, unintentionally ominous as your gaze wandered to the fragmented reflections of the clouds on the rain-soaked pavement. “After we leave London. After we deal with the label. After it stops fucking raining every time we go out together.”

Jungkook thought he could already see these things: the Parisian streets after you’ve left Sid in London, the peace after you’ve told the label about your relationship, the sun in the sky after the rain lost its courage to threaten you again.

“Okay,” he relented, his features softening. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “I know you will.”

He hummed, stepping on a loose floorboard with the edge of his boot.

“Now, then,” he said, “tell me about this crush you supposedly had on me.”

“It was a crush,” you insisted, your voice growing more fervent right away.

Jungkook smiled but tried to remain collected. He had decided it was better for his sanity not to believe you.

“I liked you ever since I saw you at that first freshman party,” you continued and he realised that he was absolutely, without a doubt not collected at all. “I spent that entire night scrolling through the list of people invited to this event on Facebook until I found your profile. But I didn’t dare to send you a friend request, because—well, you know. We hadn’t talked or anything. I thought maybe you’re not interested.”

He thought his heart might stop because this freshman event was where he first saw you—and for every waking and sleeping moment since then, he had been interested.

“I noticed you around campus after that,” you continued. “And I would have talked to you first, I think. If you hadn’t looked like you dreamed of my violent death every time you met my eye.”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the pillows of his palms.

“Well, obviously, I liked you too much to look at you and not glare,” he said, even though none of that was obvious. “I actually thought I developed some sort of an allergy right when I first saw you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “An allergy?”

“Yeah. Shortness of breath, just feeling hot all over, sweating profusely,” he elaborated, moving his hands away from his face to reveal his faint, nostalgic smile. “That had never happened to me before. It was either the dust in the room or you. And there wasn’t a lot of dust.”

You pursed your lips before your cheeks could stretch any further.

“I don’t know,” you teased, “they don’t clean the building that well.”

“It was you,” he stated firmly. “Got my breath catching in my throat. Gave me butterflies, made my heart race—made me feel all the things that people write embarrassing bubblegum pop songs about.”

You looked down to collect yourself before all the signals that your heart was sending to your brain could reflect on your face.

“Catchy songs, though,” you murmured.

“Catchy, sure,” he agreed, his tone wistful. “Until all those things they sing about happen to you, and you feel like you’re drowning.”

You felt a little like you might drown just now as your heart pounded in your chest, angry at you for another wasted year.

“I’m really happy we finally ended up together,” he said. “Seven years ago, and today.”

You finally looked up at him and remembered all the times when you used to worry that you had already lived through your happiest moments, and any little joy you’d come across later would pale in comparison. You knew better now.

Jungkook was your happiest moment, and he was right here. He’d always been right here.

“I love you,” you said, a little suffocated by the overwhelming warmth in your chest. “I’ve loved you every day for all these years.”

He was smiling so widely that his lip ring dug into his stretched lips. He reached out to caress your cheek, resting his palm on the side of your face for a moment, his eyes bright and glittering.

He kissed you slowly, his bottom lip lingering between your lips while the rain washed the noise of the city away. He tasted love and longing on your tongue, and he had never in his life wished for the sunshine to stay away longer.

The rain listened. It had become a fundamental part of your present and a prophet of your future: the two of you were going to spend the rest of your lives listening to the rain and falling in love.

Since Rated Riot had a day off and the other members let you know where they were by bickering continuously in the groupchat, you and Jungkook locked yourselves in his hotel room when you returned.

You changed into dry clothes first, and then noticed that Sid still hadn’t replied to your text. In case he really hadn’t received it, you sent another one—with just question marks—hoping that he’d interpret your repeated messages as a sign of your desperation to talk to him.

You put your phone away and climbed back into bed. The sun had already set outside the window, casting faint, elongated shadows around you in the room. You and Jungkook listened to the music playing on his phone and returned to the snacks he had bought for your film night a few days earlier.

As the song switched to the latest Bad Omens collaboration, you closed your eyes to nod along, and he reached over to snatch a chocolate-covered cherry bonbon from you, causing a spark of static electricity to pass between you.

“Sorry,” he said, chuckling after he heard you gasp. “It’s from the bees, I think. They must have somehow electrified me.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely something that bees can do,” you played along, sitting up on the bed and unwrapping another candy for him. “Maybe you should take an ice bath to avoid these after-effects.”

He accepted the candy with a grin. “No. I like shocking you when I touch you.”

To be fair, he didn’t need bees or electricity for that—but you decided not to point that out.

You realised how much peace you felt here: listening to music and eating sweets with him across the bed from you. You didn’t think there was anything you still needed in life. Watching him close his eyes as the chocolate melted on his tongue, and hearing him hum with childlike delight as he swallowed, filled an emptiness inside of you that nothing—no trips abroad, no late-night drinks, no shopping sessions—could have filled.

This random moment in his hotel room was nothing at all, yet it was everything.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, startling you both.

“Sid?” Jungkook asked eagerly, letting the remaining chocolate melt slowly on his fingers while you reached for your phone.

“No,” you replied, checking the screen. “It’s Maggie. She just posted the backstage pictures with our list.”

His expression tightened. “Oh.”

“There’s nothing from Sid,” you added.

Jungkook finally popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. He decided—quite abruptly—that he’s had enough discussions about Sid and everything you’ve been through because of him.

“You know what we should do?” he asked, licking the remnants of the chocolate off his fingers. “We should go to the sea after the tour ends.”

“Oh—we—yeah?” you asked, stumbling over your words. You thought it was very unfair of him to ask you this while running his tongue over his fingers all in the same breath. “We—but we don’t know when that’ll be.”

“Whenever,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

It took you half of a second to say “okay,” and he didn’t think he’d ever learn how to stop his heart from soaring every time your agreement came so quickly, so easily.

To be honest, you didn’t know why he even asked. It was fairly clear that there weren’t many instances where you would have refused him.

However, your response still painted his features with every warm hue in existence, and he settled back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows and closing his eyes. As you watched him, you were forced to acknowledge one more time that witnessing him like this should have required an admission ticket—and a sign reading, “do not touch the exhibit.”

“I feel like I have everything,” he said, unknowingly echoing every sentiment you felt. “I don’t even care if Sid replies to you and if our plan works.”

You leaned against the pillows on the other side of the bed and turned to your side to face him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, a melodious hum in his tone. He opened his eyes to meet yours and placed his hand on the pillow beneath his head. “We’re—you’re here with me. The tour is going well, it’s—that’s it. That’s my whole dream.”

He looked beautiful in an almost devastating way. He looked like every extravagant adjective that sounded made-up when you encountered it in writing for the first time: transfixing. Beguiling. Effulgent. Pulchritudinous.

You really wanted to touch the exhibit.

“Do you know how we formed Rated Riot?” he asked suddenly, distracting you.

You raised your eyebrows, then turned your gaze away. Jungkook realised you probably didn’t understand where his question had come from, but you didn’t ask him anything, so he did not explain.

Truthfully, you did not know the complete story behind how Rated Riot got together. You only knew what each of the boys was doing when they first met.

“I don’t know much,” you admitted. “I know that Hoseok kicked things off.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, then stopped. “Or maybe Namjoon, actually? Because Namjoon saw Hoseok at some gig that he went to. When he asked about his band, Hoseok gave him, like, fifteen business cards. But even though he filled in for all these bands, it was still only maybe one gig per week. That’s nothing. So, Namjoon told him he’s too talented for that shit. He said he needed his own band.”

You recalled Yoongi mentioning that Namjoon was the first producer that Rated Riot have worked with, but you hadn’t realised this was before the band was even formed.

Suddenly, the broken air conditioner in the room whirred back to life, interrupting your thoughts.

“S-so, they started talking,” Jungkook said, momentarily distracted by the loud noise. “Hoseok wanted to be independent, and Namjoon didn’t push him to sign with Jett Records back then. He helped him. Unofficially, I guess. They found Taehyung very randomly at this one after-party for somebody at our label—well, our future label. Namjoon took Hoseok there to network, and Taehyung just happened to be there. No one knows why, but you know Taehyung. He’s always going to be right where he needs to be.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding knowingly. Taehyung always seemed to find his way to the people and places meant for him.

“Yeah, so he was at that party,” Jungkook continued, “and he overheard Namjoon and Hoseok discussing the plan for Hoseok’s band. They were saying that they needed a bassist first. And Taehyung just chimed in like, “I play bass.” Just out of the blue. Namjoon asked him who he was, and he introduced himself. Namjoon then asked what he was doing here, and Taehyung said, “I’ll tell you if you let me join the band”—which he never did, by the way. We still don’t know what he was doing at that party.”

You chuckled softly. Knowing Taehyung, nothing in this story surprised you, but you were still impressed by how quickly his energy captivated Hoseok and Namjoon.

“So, they let him join?” you asked.

“Namjoon claims he auditioned for them first,” Jungkook said, clicking his lips questioningly. “But one time when Hoseok was very drunk, he admitted that he’d felt desperate. Namjoon was busy and couldn’t help him much, so Hoseok had to figure things out on his own. He said he called and invited Taehyung to join right away. He thought they could find a proper bassist later, and Taehyung could fill the spot for the time being. Funny.”

“Oh,” you said. “Because he hadn’t heard him play yet?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “He hadn’t seen Taehyung even holding a bass before. So, he had doubts. I guess I get that. Anyway. He invited Namjoon to their first rehearsal and Taehyung blew Namjoon the fuck away. That’s it. Hoseok said that after that, he was worried Namjoon would sign Taehyung and leave him behind. Not that Namjoon would do that, but uh—yeah. Taehyung was that good.”

“They’re both that good,” you said. “Hoseok never acknowledges his own talent.”

“Right?” he nodded eagerly, turning to his side to look at you. There was a warm smile on your lips that Jungkook really enjoyed. “They’re both amazing.”

“So, how do you come into the picture?” you asked.

He took a breath before answering.

“I saw Hoseok and Taehyung playing at this dive bar that Sid dragged me to,” he said.

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “He said I was annoying and mopey, so he kept taking me to a new place every night. There were hardly any people at this bar that night. Taehyung was singing, but he sang, like, one verse, and then they launched into the longest instrumental break I’ve ever fucking heard. And it was incredible. Shit, I—I’m more into vocal music. But seeing Hoseok and Taehyung play together—there was another guitarist with them, actually, I don’t even know who it was—anyway. It made me realise how powerful instrumental music can be on its own.”

A dreamy fog had descended upon his face, and only now did you realise that the air conditioner had stopped working again, seemingly calling it a day. You appreciated the silence and the way Jungkook looked when he played back the memories in his head, his eyes shimmering with the bright lights and the sounds of the bar that night.

“I didn’t know that Sid met the other members before you joined the band,” you said.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “He also said he could be a better bassist than ‘that guy.’”

“He—of course,” you groaned. “Wait until Luna hears this. She’ll take care of Sid for us on Taehyung’s behalf, I think.”

He nodded, snickering. “I bet. But Sid actually left the bar before they finished their set. I stayed back. After they wrapped up, I went up to Hoseok at the bar and told him how much I enjoyed their performance. Told him I was thinking of picking up drums—”

He paused abruptly, noticing your surprise before you remembered him mentioning this to you.

“Oh, was this when you and Sid were planning to start your own band?” you asked. You had assumed they were joking.

“Yeah,” he replied, snickering. He had been joking, but he still found drummers to be effortlessly cool. “So, Hoseok delivered the longest fucking speech about what his job was like. Don’t ask him about it, by the way, or you’ll have to sit through three hours of him making drum sounds. But anyway, I was pretty drunk by then, and I don’t know, I guess I hummed along to some song that was playing or something.”

You nodded. Jungkook was almost always humming something.

“Then Hoseok said they needed a vocalist for their band,” he continued, “because Taehyung didn’t want to do it. And he noticed me humming, so he jokingly asked if I happened to sing. I said sometimes, nothing serious. Everybody sings sometimes. He told me to sing something for him. I told him to get fucked, we’re in a bar.” Jungkook had to pause here to let you finish laughing. “And Hoseok just shrugged, like, “no one’s at the mic, why not?””

“That did it for you?” you asked.

He nodded. “That fucking did it for me.”

You laughed again, knowing that he would never shy away from anything that resembled a challenge.

“What did you sing?” you asked.

Jungkook gave you a look. There was only one song that always lingered at the back of his mind. You could have guessed it, really, but you were a little frightened about its significance in this context.

“You—you sang Biffy Clyro?” Your throat was dry all of a sudden and useless questions continued to pour out of your dumbfounded chest. “At that bar? In front of Hoseok? “M-Many of Horror?””

“Of course,” Jungkook said, as if there had never been any other song he could have chosen to perform that night, besides the one that followed you and him throughout your relationship. “It—it really fucked with me, though. We had just broken up maybe a month ago, so it was still fresh, you know? And this was my first time singing “Many of Horror” in public, on top of that. And I was—I didn’t do well. I think I missed half the lyrics in the last chorus because it was too much.”

He snickered lightly, trying to lessen the impact of his words. You felt frozen.

“I-I was standing there,” he continued, and you could almost see it, “hiccuping to the I still believe, it’s you and me ‘til the end of time, while Hoseok just watched me, expressionless. And then I drank half the bar right after I got off stage.”

He sang the two lines of the song as he shared the story, his voice quiet and tender, and you thought you must have resembled Hoseok right now—so lost in all the emotions brewing inside you that you did not immediately realise he had stopped speaking, and it might have been appropriate for you to reply.

“Y-you still sounded great, though,” you managed. “Obviously.”

“Yeah, maybe four people clapped. Out of the ten or so at the bar,” he said, chuckling. “Hoseok told me he had to make a call, told me to stay right where I was, and then he disappeared. He returned twenty minutes later with some dishevelled guy in a turtleneck with a little hole in the collar.”

You recognised the description. “Namjoon?”

“Namjoon,” Jungkook confirmed, the smile on his face matching the one hesitantly spreading on yours. “I was fucking wasted. They were saying I had to meet with them for rehearsals, they wanted to see how I’d sound with them. And I’m—I couldn’t fucking think straight. They were telling me they wanted me to join the band, and all I could think about was that you weren’t here.”

The excitement in your eyes quickly turned into pain as a sharp twinge of longing pierced through your chest. It cut into every open crevice of your heart, reminding you of the way it had bled in those first few months after you broke up—even on this particular day, while Jungkook was struggling to get himself together in the face of his future, and you were likely at home, tossing and turning in your bed because you did not know what to do with yourself.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” Jungkook admitted, his eyes fixed on the bedsheets, his voice filled with incorrigible regret. “But we weren’t talking anymore. I thought—there was this one moment where I thought, well, what’s the point? What’s the use of joining this band if I can’t even tell you about it? A-and they weren’t even a full group when I met them anyway. It took about two more weeks for Yoongi to join.”

You made a conscious effort to swallow the lump in your throat, and shifted your focus to Yoongi to allow for the sudden ache in your chest to subside.

“Yeah, uh—Yoongi mentioned that he was the last to join,” you commented, hoping to steer the conversation back to a less emotionally charged topic. “He used to play for a different band before, right?”

“Yeah. Somnia,” Jungkook said. The name did not sound familiar to you. “They weren’t—um, going anywhere. That’s a very blunt way to put it, but they were just stuck. And Yoongi and Namjoon go way back. So, Namjoon called him one day and lied that he was producing for this new, promising band in need of a permanent guitarist. Said they had a solid rhythm section, but their artistic direction needed some refinement.”

“And, uh,” your voice was a little lighter, “I assume they had a great vocalist, too?”

Jungkook smiled. “They did, yeah. I was trying to be modest, but you brought it up.”

You snickered, offering a nonchalant shrug. “Just trying to help you out.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “Yeah. So, Yoongi was the last one to join. He’d—he has a lot more creative freedom with us than he had with Somnia, which still isn’t a lot. But it’s something. And I think that was the main reason why he left them.”

“And they were okay with him leaving?” you asked.

Jungkook turned on his back and sighed.

“I assume they weren’t,” he said, briefly glancing at the ceiling before turning to look at you. “That’s why he doesn’t talk much about it.”

“Ah.” You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, but anyway, Yoongi joined and we were complete,” Jungkook continued. “We released this one song, “Keep Quiet” as our first single, and I think it had maybe ten streams in total on Spotify, two from each of us and Namjoon. It wasn’t great, but it’s our first song together, so it’s—you know.”

Your smile was soft, patient. You knew that the members of the band did not have many fond memories of their first single. Taehyung had once admitted to you that if they hadn’t felt so pressured to release something, they would have waited.

“It’s one of your mostly instrumental songs,” you said. “It sounds great as the introductory track at your gigs.”

“Yeah, but it—it’s not really the song that introduces us as a band,” Jungkook replied. ““Haunting” is. We released it independently, too, a few months after that first song. That—okay, that was in June. Some time after that, this radio DJ that Yoongi knew played “Haunting” on his radio show as a birthday gift to Yoongi. Namjoon and Christian Jett—”

“CJ, apparently,” you cut in.

“Right. CJ,” he repeated. “They heard the song at some event. Apparently, CJ loved it, so Namjoon told him about us. When CJ found out we weren’t signed to a label, he reached out to us. It took Taehyung and me three days to convince Yoongi and Hoseok to go to that meeting. They both had some shitty experiences with record labels in the past. But we persuaded them to at least show up. CJ had us perform “Haunting” and “Cursed” for him, and he signed us on the spot. Well, after Yoongi finished negotiating with him about our contracts.”

Your heart started to race as if you had just realised how much the universe had to align, how many intricate coincidences had to happen to lead Jungkook to his band, and to bring the two of you to this moment in his hotel room.

“We started working on our album,” he went on, “and about four months later—in July, right?—the record started to finally come together. That’s when CJ started to look for a manager for us.”

You took a breath and finished for him, “and reached out to me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “All CJ told us was that he found someone. He mentioned that this person was already working under the label and that the band they managed had recently broken up.”

You did not interrupt the silence that followed, because you thought that Jungkook had paused for a few seconds. But he stopped speaking altogether, waiting for you to share your perspective.

“I-I was, uh, Nick’s assistant at the time,” you said, realising what the silence was for. “We were working with The Jungle Will Get You.” You turned to Jungkook and he shook his head. “Yeah, they were—they weren’t popular. And the members weren’t really motivated, especially towards the end. They split up, eventually. Nick moved on to manage Reconnaissance, and I took on administrative tasks for various bands under the label. It was only for a few months, but I thought I’d end up buried in endless piles of papers. So, when HR called me in to tell me about Rated Riot, I pretended to know exactly who you were to get that job.”

He was smiling next to you on the bed, lost in the memories that did not hurt anymore now that he shared them with you.

“I doubt even HR knew who we were,” he said, gazing up at the ceiling and clasping his hands on his stomach. “I’m just—I’m constantly—I don’t know. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that it was you that they chose for us. I mean, you’re amazing, you could have worked with any band out there. But they picked you for us.”

You grappled with the same impossible coincidence.

“I’m thinking about that, too,” you said. “You had so much potential and CJ... I wasn’t sure if he even saw it when he reached out to me. Not to mention, you and I were—we were broken up for two years at that point?”

“A year and seven months,” Jungkook replied.

“Right,” you said, slightly out of breath from the precision of his answer.

He turned to face you. “Did you ever consider turning down that offer to work with us after you found out I’m in the band?”

You exhaled what little oxygen you had left in your lungs. You’d considered many things when you saw him again that day, and you realised now that you still hadn’t fully grasped all the thoughts that had passed through your mind at the time.

“For maybe half a second,” you said. “I was very confident that we could move on from our relationship.”

He grinned. “Look how well that worked out for us.”

“Mhmm, right?” you agreed, meeting his gaze. “So professional.”

He chuckled, intoxicated by your proximity and the peace he found in the knowledge that the universe had put in a good effort to lead you two here.

“I know that—well, it seems like everything just fell into place to get all of you together for Rated Riot,” you said. “But it wasn’t that easy for you guys, was it?”

“Yeah, no, it definitely wasn’t,” he agreed. “After Yoongi joined, we struggled to write one fucking original song for months. We thought the band was going nowhere.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was that bad?”

“Yeah. Everything we tried to work on was shit,” he said. “We were getting drunk every night, trying to find something that could work as our proper first song, something that could really show what sort of a band we were. And nothing worked.”

“So, what happened?” you asked.

“You,” he answered simply.

Your brows creased. “How—what do you mean?”

“Namjoon pushed us to release something authentic for our next single,” he began. “Something that would be more Rated Riot, and less of what Rated-Riot-wanted-to-be, which was what we did for “Keep Quiet.” This next song had to be different. Better. And so, the other guys decided to kick my ass and force me to work. They knew I was writing something, but it—it wasn’t anything serious. Not like what they write. You know I can’t just create shit on the spot. My lyrics have to be about something that I’ve been through. And you’re—you are every single meaningful experience that I have had in my life. The guys—they wanted to use that. So, you’re sort of the main reason why Rated Riot are where they are”

You exhaled slowly, your mind filled with thoughts just like it had been the first time you walked into Rated Riot’s meeting room and saw Jungkook there—looking only slightly different from the music video Luna had shown you before, and remarkably different from your memories.

“And that—this is why I brought this up now,” he said. “It’s all because of you. We broke up, and Sid dragged me to that bar to help me get over you. I sang our song to Hoseok, and he brought Namjoon to convince me to join the band. I wrote “Haunting” about you, and CJ heard it and decided to sign us. We put out several albums, filled with songs I’ve ever written for you, and now we’re on this tour. If it weren’t for you, I just—w-we wouldn’t be here.”

You felt your skin prickle, the sensation quickly turning to a painful sting, and you looked away. Frankly, you did not believe that your influence was this significant—not even after Jungkook had told you that it was. These events seemed like an unbelievable sequence of coincidences that he decided to treat as signs, and you found that you couldn’t breathe if you looked at them as signs, too.

You felt his eyes on you and only meant to glance at him very briefly, but he held your gaze for a few moments longer, watching as a shuddering breath passed your lips. Then he propped himself up on his elbows.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he declared, the look in his eyes so final, so determined that you were almost afraid to move when you met his gaze. “And then I’m not letting you go. I don’t care if Sid texts.”

Your voice was very small. “I don’t care, either.”

“Fuck,” was more of an echo than a real whisper as his lips finally collided with yours. The kiss was deep and vehement and full of everything that had built up inside you over this day alone.

But then his tongue met yours and you realised that this day wasn’t all that special. You could have kissed him at any point of any day, and you would have still felt overwhelmed and aching, and you would have needed him right at the tips of your fingers as much as ever.

He tasted like the chocolate-covered cherry bonbons that he’d bought you because they reminded him of the summer nights you’d spent together. He tasted like the sticky homemade candy that the two of you baked when there were no other sweets in your dorm room and you craved something, but refused to leave, refused to pull away. Like the moments on the balcony of his house after you snuck away from his cousins. Like the rainy walks to class when your hair would be sticking to your face, but you couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at each other.

All the thoughts that had been screaming at you for the past fifteen minutes suddenly quieted down as he leaned closer until he was hovering over you, one of his hands on the side of your face.

He felt shivers on the back of his neck when your tentative fingers found their way to his hair. He exhaled softly against your mouth and stilled momentarily when he heard your quiet whimper in response to his kiss, to his breathing, to him.

The room suddenly spun completely out of control around him.

He needed you so much and for such a long time that every time you were with him, every time you kissed him, he worried that he was dreaming again. So he kissed you harder, held onto you tighter—not wanting to find out if he was asleep, not wanting to wake up.

He unbuttoned your denim jacket without pulling away and slid it off your arms, holding the side of your neck with one of his hands. His kiss was so deep, so riveting that you felt your lungs give up, felt them pack up and leave, forcing you to breathe him instead.

His hands caressed your shoulders, finding the straps of your shirt and sliding them down your arms—and then stopping abruptly when he realised that you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

Exhaling shakily, he pulled back—lightheaded and winded and completely obsessed with you—just to look at you for a minute. There was a playful grin on his lips when he kissed you again.

You pulled away enough to ask, “what?”

“Nothing,” he murmured in-between kisses, “you’re fucking perfect. But I want this off.”

He pulled you closer and you instinctively bucked your hips off the bed, causing a momentary hitch in his breath. He lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling the material up and tracing the invisible symbols on your skin along your ribs, your chest, and your arms. Tossing your shirt aside without looking, he leaned back in, yearning for the feel of your lips on his again and accepting that he could not last one minute without you. Perhaps not even one second.

He felt your hand on his chest, trailing down to the edge of his black t-shirt and distracting him from the kiss with the softness of your touch. You lifted his shirt up to his chest—as far as it would go without breaking the kiss—and felt him hiss at the cold sensation of your bare fingertips on his stomach.

“I’m sorr—” you began, but the second you pulled away to apologise, he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss.

“No.” His whispers were frenzied against your lips. You could have electrocuted him with your touch, sliced him into pieces with your fingers, and he would have thanked you for it. “No. You—d-don’t apologise. You’re perfect.”

He heard the way you cursed under your breath—under his breath, too—and he found it hard to inhale against the pressure in his stomach, against the tightness in his jeans. He was humming with near desperation when you pulled him closer, running your hands over his arms, your touch gentle enough to truly kill him.

He was frantic, eager to touch you, to feel your arms, your thighs, your chest, your neck—all of you—before someone interrupted you. Before his time with you ended. He knew he had the rest of his life to spend with you, but now he worried it still wouldn’t be enough.

His tongue moved over yours, his kiss deep, rushing, dizzying. He did not need to look to find the button on your pants, unclasp it, and slide the rough material down your thighs, swallowing a moan when he felt you shivering under his touch.

He quickly pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it aside before kissing you again, high on the sound of your lips smacking against each other. He shuddered when your hands unexpectedly met his on the belt of his jeans.

“Let me do it,” you asked in a whisper—but he was wholeheartedly yours at that moment, and you didn’t even have to ask.

“Okay,” he complied, allowing you to gently push him back onto the bed.

Closing his eyes, he savoured the newfound sweetness from your kiss on his tongue. He felt you shuffle closer to him on the bed and had to take a sharp breath when one of your hands slid down his abdomen to his jeans.

You leaned over to kiss him again, and he broke—only capable of lying idly for so long—reaching for you and caressing your shoulders and your arms. He made it almost impossible for you to keep doing what you were doing; unruly wildfires blazed everywhere he touched you.

Jungkook was determined not to break the kiss even as you undid his belt and unzipped his jeans. He thought he did well. But then he lifted his hips off the bed to help you pull his jeans off and you brushed your fingers over the bulge in his boxers—your touch featherlight against the material—and he was very nearly finished.

He whimpered lightly into the kiss, his breaths growing heavier, his hands growing greedier. You made sure to hold one of his hands in yours to prevent him from flipping you over on the bed, and he responded to that by cheating: he held onto you tighter and attempted to pull you closer every time he gently bit your bottom lip and you got distracted by the pleasant sting.

Finally, you managed to slide his boxers down his thighs, catching each of his heavy breaths on your tongue. You pulled back, and he was about to protest until he saw you throw one of your legs over his, straddling his hips.

He watched you slide your panties down your legs while hovering over his thighs and he wasn’t sure how long ago he’d stopped blinking. Mesmerised by the sight, he didn’t immediately rush to assist you in maintaining your balance as you lifted one knee off the bed.

Once he recovered enough to remember to inhale, he sat up and pulled you flush to his chest. You gasped in surprise when he hooked his fingers behind the waistband of your panties and slid them down your legs faster.

“I said let me do it,” you reminded him with a pout, and he kissed you instead of replying, too impatient to wait.

Your hands slipped down his chest and your hips bucked into his just barely, but he exhaled deeply, breaking the kiss. You used the moment while he was dazed to push him back into the pillows.

He fell back on the bed, knowing very well that he’d been in this position before—with you on top of him, your fingers tracing over his length before finally wrapping around the base—but he still shivered, throwing his head back into the pillows. He still kept his eyes fixed on your face when you started to move your hand in gentle strokes, killing him a little more with each movement of your wrist.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “At least let—l-let me touch you.”

He phrased it like a request, but he did not mean it like one. You didn’t resist when he reached for you, his hands travelling over your thighs, lingering on your lower back, squeezing your ass, and pulling your hips into his.

One of your hands had come to rest on his chest for support while you continued to stroke his length in deliberately slow, languid motions. You could feel him getting harder under your touch, and you closed your eyes, your teeth sinking into your lip.

He could not look away from you. He wanted to be the one to bite your lips, but he couldn’t move close enough to you with your hands on him. He settled for exploring the skin on your hips, sliding his hands up and down your thighs. Soon, you felt the tips of his fingers brush lightly over your stomach and then descend lower to slip between your folds.

He exhaled deeply through his mouth when he felt how wet you were, and that was enough for him—he would have found a way to hold you tightly against his chest even if you were across the world from him.

In a flash, he was sitting up, connecting your lips again and bringing his tongue over yours while he gathered the wetness between your folds with his thumb. Your grip on his length tightened instinctively, and Jungkook groaned, automatically applying more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves on your clit—just enough to have you arch your back into him.

He felt you move faster, squeezing the base and speeding up until your fingers brushed over his tip. Trying to fight back a moan, he reflexively bucked his hips into your hand while two of his fingers teased your entrance, sliding over your wet folds in a teasing, tickling motion. You broke the kiss, sighing and dropping your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t give you much time to catch your breath—you didn’t give him any of that, so he thought this was only fair—as he kissed along your jaw, gently sucking on a spot on the nape of your neck. His fingers continued stimulating your clit with a combination of light, fast circles and harder, slower strokes that he knew would make you break for him.

“F-fuck, wait,” you exhaled, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. “I w-want you.”

“You have me, my love,” he whispered back, running his tongue over the faint mark he’d left on the sensitive skin of your neck and humming, his tone gravelly and rasp, when you hissed at the feeling. “All of me.”

You gripped his wrist tighter. “Lie back.”

He didn’t immediately obey, opting to use his only free hand—the one you couldn’t hold, because you needed both hands to stop his determined fingers from drawing you any closer to the edge—to squeeze your ass and pull your hips over his length instead.

“Lie back,” you ordered again, your words firm, but breathless. It started a raging flame in his lower stomach, but he still resisted a little more—kissing you again, sucking on your tongue, sliding his hands over your thighs, and nearly making you lose it before he finally leaned back against the pile of pillows.

Jungkook still thought he was doing fairly well, considering the burning on his skin and inside him, but watching you unwrap a condom package and slide the latex down his length—torturously slowly, it seemed to him, to really test his limits—he thought he might lose it, after all.

You felt him jerk slightly in your hand, sensitive as you rolled the condom down his length, and your deep exhale blended with his sharp inhale. He locked the sound of your breathing somewhere deep in his mind, too focused on your touch to revel in it right now, but far too inspired by the response your body had to his to forget it altogether.

He bit his lip, his eyes locked on yours as you positioned yourself over his length. He was convinced that you were teasing him on purpose when you brought his tip closer to your entrance and then paused. He could already feel the wetness of your folds on him, and the second he lifted his hands to touch you, he was forced to let them drop in utter defeat when you finally slid his tip in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight, warm walls as you struggled to take all of him in at once, and stopped, most cruelly, halfway in.

You looked breathtaking on top of him and there wasn’t a single coherent thought in his mind, so he couldn’t offer to help you anymore, couldn’t even guide you down on his length. He could barely stay still, biting his lip and clutching the sheets so he wouldn’t ram his hips into yours.

“You’ll kill me,” he whispered in a strained voice when you lifted your hips again, sliding his length over your folds, but not slipping it back inside.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him again, taking all of him in, inch by inch, and a soft sigh escaped your lips before you could stop yourself. “O-oh.”

You had to suppress another whimper when your hips met his, the stretch of his length stinging pleasantly. He hissed at the feeling, his hands flying to your hips to keep you in place.

His touch reminded you of Amsterdam suddenly: of the way he had held you, the way he had felt after all these years.

You wanted him so much that it no longer felt like a simple wish. He felt like a necessity and you could not understand how you’d ever managed to go on with your day when he wasn’t in the room with you.

You needed a moment to adjust to him and Jungkook watched you all through it. Even though he was barely able to keep his eyes open, he took in all of your reactions as the initial sting subsided and your hips twitched against his.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Move for me, love. Please?”

You sighed as his endearing words—and the loving lilt in his voice—lit up your stomach and made you involuntarily clench around him. He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips. You had told him to lie back, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could obey.

Finally, you began to move and he threw his head back, swallowing hard at the feeling. You rotated your hips in slow circles, allowing his entire length to delicately rub the walls inside you, and he could not remember when he’d last felt you like this. He could not remember anything outside this room, and when you rested both of your hands on his chest for balance, he seemed to forget his own name, too.

“Fuck,” was a soft, jagged breath that got caught in his throat as he watched you in the dimly lit room. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out your silhouette, and he squeezed your ass tighter so he wouldn’t immediately lose it at the sight.

You drew back all of a sudden, placing one hand on his chest and resting the other against the mattress, right by his arm. You pulled your bottom lip in with your teeth as you lifted your hips, then slowly lowered yourself on him again. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, and Jungkook parted his lips, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth every time your thighs met his.

You shifted your weight to your knees to increase the pace and he nearly choked on his breath when you placed your hands on his shoulders and bounced your hips against his, his length gliding against your velvety walls.

“Y-you—oh, fuck. You look s-so beautiful,” he stammered, his hands travelling from your hips to your waist, then back down again.

Love and lust burned in his darkened eyes when he looked up at you, his hair falling in messy curls around his face. His chest rose and fell underneath you, the muscles on his abdomen tightening each time you sank down on him again.

You watched him like this and you changed your mind about describing him; an adjective that would fit him had not been invented yet.

You tried to respond to his words, but he suddenly lifted his hips off the bed to meet you halfway and knocked all breath out of your lungs, forcing a soft whine to pass your lips instead as you leaned into him, losing your balance.

It was starting to get too much—how deeply he reached inside of you, how tightly he held onto you—and Jungkook noticed it right away. Squeezing your hips, he adjusted his position by bending his knees for a better angle and bouncing you on his lap very slowly once, then twice, before pulling you into his chest and thrusting into you faster.

Curses and almost desperate whines fell from your lips, matching the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. He knew he had hit your sweet spot when he felt your nails digging into his chest, when you tightened around him, when your strained breaths got louder, when your teeth grazed his collarbone—and he growled, gripping your hips tighter and trapping you against his chest with his other arm.

“Jungkook—” you panted, barely able to speak, and the sound of his name on your lips ignited the room around him.

He grunted softly and flipped you both to your sides, pulling your back into his chest by wrapping his arms around your waist and chest, his grip firm, deliberately inescapable, but his fingers gentle as he teased your nipples. His thrusts were slower at this new angle, but now they were deep and hard. It was your increased breathing and louder, uncontrollable chants of his name that encouraged him to speed up.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. And again, louder when you clenched around him, “f-fuck.”

This position allowed him to reach even deeper inside you and the way your walls sucked him in was as blissful as it was worrisome—he wanted this to last, and he didn’t think it would. Not when he had you so close to him, inhaling the scent of your apple shampoo, peppering breathy kisses on the side of your neck, feeling the goosebumps that he brought to your skin when he caressed your nipples, and thinking he might actually explode every time your body jolted against his with each one of his thrusts.

He slid one of his hands down your navel and kept his palm right above your entrance for a distracted minute, feeling himself move in and out of you, and groaning into your shoulder before lowering his hand to your clit. You writhed against him as he rubbed on a soft, gummy spot there, bringing you dangerously close to your high.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you whimpered, almost helplessly clutching his arm that was wrapped around your chest. “I’m—s-so close.”

“I’m here, my love,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Anything you were going to say died on your tongue when you felt his lips on your neck again. His fingers continued to massage the soft spot between your folds and your walls clenched and pulsated around him with each thrust of his hips. White clouds gathered on the edges of your vision and a low moan passed your lips as the knot in your stomach tightened.

Jungkook felt you tremble in his arms and pulled you into his chest harder. Keeping quiet had stopped being an option for you when he pressed on your clit with the pillows of his fingers, his hips continuously drilling into you—he remembered the spot you liked, and he made sure to hit it every time. He felt you tighten again, so close to your peak, and he relished in your loud whimpers.

Pulling his lip ring in with his teeth, he held you tightly against him to maintain a steady pace, his strokes assured and calculated, to push you completely over the edge. He fell impossibly more in love with you when his name got caught in your throat with your breath.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed as you writhed in his arms, coming down from your high. “S-so pretty—oh, fuck, my love—when you come for me.”

The anticipation of his own climax soon caused his hips to start moving with a certain frenzy, and he pulled all the way out before plunging himself into you again and fully bottoming out.

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” he grunted breathlessly, twitching inside of you.

His hips stilled completely and he cursed again, spilling himself into the condom. Groaning deeply, he drove his hips into yours instinctively, this way prolonging his pleasure and the time he spent watching you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet. He thought he heard you whisper a breathless I love you and he was convinced he came again just at the sound of it.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck and his voice cracked in the middle of his breathless chants, “fuck, I love you so much—I-I love you so fucking much—”

He still didn’t release his grip on you, lifting his head to kiss your neck again, while the two of you tried to recover and accepted, eventually, that you probably never truly would.

“Fuck,” he exhaled. Then, again, from the back of his throat, “fuck.”

You turned around as much as you could with his arms around you, and met his lips with your own, humming into the kiss and causing him to lose his sanity again—although, to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure if he’d even regained it yet.

Your bodies remained locked in an almost desperate embrace for another minute, your lips moving leisurely against each other as your breaths mingled and the room—but not your hearts—quieted down.

Unfortunately, you had to strain your neck to kiss him from this position, and Jungkook ended up having to let go of you. He pulled out carefully—the gentle contact still making you hiss from sensitivity—and helped you roll to your other side to face him.

After pressing another kiss to your lips, he grabbed a stray pillow and placed it next to your head. He touched your chin gently, prompting you to lift your head so he could slide the pillow underneath.

You smiled at the unnecessary, but very appreciated gesture. “I love you.”

His chest contemplated bursting.

“I love you,” he replied. “So much that I am not—I don’t want you to leave this room. Or my bed, actually. I want to stay with you every second of every day, and I’m okay if every court would qualify me as insane for that.”

You snickered into the pillow, your expression radiant. “I don’t think you’re insane.”

He grinned and got up to discard the condom before climbing back into bed.

“And I want to stay, too,” you added, closing your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek as he got comfortable on the bed. “Not just tonight, but always?”

“Of course,” you whispered, your voice turning lighter, “but I do have my own room.”

He settled in his spot next to you and draped an arm over your waist with a soft grunt. “Fuck if I knew why.”

He pulled back slightly to see your laughter. You didn’t seem like you were going to object or tell him that you should leave, but he still caressed your cheek, bringing his fingers over the smile lines by your lips that he had caused. His heart fought fiercely against his mind at the sight of them. He was almost ready to call Rated Riot’s next song “Smile Lines” and just sigh dreamily into the microphone for five minutes while Yoongi played gentle piano chords in the background.

“I think you should stay with me everywhere we go,” he said, leaning in to connect your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. His voice was a whisper against your mouth, “so we could do this again. And again. And again.”

You broke the kiss—and he would have been very upset about that, but you did that to laugh again, and he understandably forgot everything he was thinking of doing.

“You have a show tomorrow,” you reminded him gently, your eyes warm.

He shrugged. “So we’ll have to take a break for a few hours.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to contain your smile to an appropriate level. “Hmm.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “Sounds good?”

“You are messing with my head,” you whispered.

He grinned, pressing his lips to yours again. “I love you.”

You kissed him back but made sure to click your lips in feigned disapproval as you pulled away. “What did I just say?”

“You messed with mine first,” he countered, his quiet laughter blending with the warmth of your kiss.

He had already stolen all air from your lungs, robbed your mind of every thought you possessed before him, and kept your heart hostage—and now he was beaming like he knew very well he’d done all that. Like he wasn’t one bit sorry about ingraining himself in your life so much that it felt like you shared one soul, and it had stayed with him after you broke up: forcing him to suffer from the weight of it, while you searched for something missing inside you.

“I love you,” you said again. Your words were a whisper and they got lost on his tongue but found their way to his heart anyway.

Planting a few quick, butterfly kisses to your lips, he leaned back against the pillows, keeping his palm on the side of your face so he could rub gentle circles over your cheek with his thumb.

He loved you, and sometimes this love was all that he could think about.

Other times, however, the shadows in the room grew just a little darker.

“Sid hasn’t replied, huh?” he asked quietly, reluctantly.

You sighed, shaking your head. Your phone had been silent all night, and the more you tried to ignore the silence, the more noticeable it became.

“Should I text him?” he suggested. “To poke the bear a little.”

You frowned and felt your stomach sink—a feeling that Jungkook made even worse by pulling away from you and allowing for the brutal, cold air of the room to fill the space where his hand had been.

“What do you mean?” you asked, sitting up.

He rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand.

You moved closer to be able to see the screen over his shoulder. You frowned the whole time, but it really did not take Jungkook more than a minute to compose a message that almost sparked an argument between the two of you.

After some relatively mild back and forth—consisting of your annoyed, “I told you I want to keep you out of this” that was followed immediately by his melodramatic, “I’m doing this because I love you”—the two of you reached a compromise.

Look, his text to Sid read. I know you’ve been texting my girlfriend. Stop. Let’s keep this shit between us.

This wasn’t the full truth. After sending you a few mocking texts after he posted that picture to his Instagram, Sid hadn’t texted you anything else. You weren’t sure if this would even provoke a response, but Jungkook was convinced. He sent the text and pulled you back onto the pillows despite your protests.

“I’m sure it’ll only be a few minutes,” he said. “Until he texts you.”

Sure enough, he did.

Just as you lied down next to Jungkook, just as he intertwined your hands, his fingers toying with yours, just as you were about to forget your phone altogether—just then, the text finally came.

Your eyes widened, but Jungkook had the decency not to gloat. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you until the beating of your heart returned to a reasonable pace. Then he let you sit up again and reach for your phone.

Sid’s message read, “eager to talk to me now?:)” and you breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as you showed the text to Jungkook.

“Alright,” you said, content. You didn’t even need to respond to him anymore, he’d already started the next step of your plan. “Now we’re good to go.”

Jungkook, smiled, nodding and extending his hand to pat the bed. You lied back down and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to feel your skin against his again. His breathing was soft on your neck and you smiled back, finally losing yourself in the calming darkness of his room and the warmth of his touch.

For one blissful minute, you focused on his breathing and traced the edges of his tattoos, and felt as though nothing bad, nothing hurtful or upsetting had ever happened to either of you.

“Will we be okay, do you think?” you asked wearily. “Tomorrow.”

He was taken aback by the question, you could tell from the way his breathing increased, but his response was quick and certain.

“We’re already okay,” he said. “Today and tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day—”

“I love you,” you interjected softly, successfully stopping him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I would have kept going.”

You grinned. “I know you would have.”

He snickered, pulling you closer until you nestled your face into his neck and rested your hands on his chest, tapping, every now and then, to the beat of his heart.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “For a few hours, at least.”

You leaned your head back enough to press a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips instead of replying.

Jungkook hummed and melted into you, easing his grip to give you some space to breathe, but still remaining attached to you like he was a part of you and you were a part of him.

He could have stayed with you like this, he thought, for the rest of his life. And for at least a hundred more lives after that.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “give”

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[pit-and-the-pen]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart (Pt 2 to unrequited love)

A/n: HERE IT IS BESTIES!!! The official Pt 2 to unrequited love! I know the poll is still live but I’m impatient. So to make sure I’m still taking everyone’s votes into account there will be an alternate ending that should be posted right after this.

Read the Alt ending here, it's pretty similar in places

Read Pt 3 here

I'm still absolutely blown away by how well-received the first part was. This is going to be an ongoing series, all could be read individually but the "background" will be these two fics.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, reader suffers from depressed thoughts

WC: ~3.4k

divder by @cafekitsune

The next morning I was in Rhys office. He barely even looked up from the paper strewn over his desk before I spoke. 

“I’m going back home.” 

He sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes raked over me, “Does this have anything to do with why Azriel was so huffy this morning?” His eyebrow raised and I felt the anger I’d been trying to quell since last night rise its head up like a sleeping dragon.

“Fuck off. Let him be mad if he wants to be mad.” I snapped. 

“Mad isn’t exactly how I would put it,” He paused looking at me. “What happened?” The High Lord questioned. I sighed not having the strength to recount the events from last night. 

“Nothing but the inevitable.” he frowned at my non-answer but didn’t press any harder. 

“I’ll miss you. We all will.” He said finally. I nodded. 

“You all should visit.” Not an I’ll visit. No. If I could avoid it I would never step foot into this miserable court ever again. 

I was gone by mid-morning. Mor had helped me winnow the things I wanted to take with me. What they did with the rest wasn’t any of my concern. Rhys or Feyre had bought it all for me anyways, let them decide what to do with their money. 

Once I had gotten settled into my room, I hugged Mor goodbye and thanked her for her help. She just gave me a tighter hug and told me she would visit soon. 

It was two weeks before I could see Helion.Two weeks of settling back into my court that I loved so dearly.  He was visiting Dawn court for some trade agreement that needed to be signed. I came by every day, asking if he’d returned you. His second would just silently shake her head at me. And I would stomp back to my room like an angry babe. 

Two weeks of checking before I finally saw her nod her head and I had to stop myself from running into Helions office. I had the control to at least knock on the door but not much else. I quickly shut the door behind me as he called me in. 

“Sunbeam!” He called out when saw my face. “I had hoped the rumors of you moving back home were true.” He walked around the desk and gave me a brisk hug. Very out of character for him. 

“You’re not an easy man to schedule an appointment with, Helion.” I smiled warmly at the High Lord of my court. 

“If you wanted a piece of me, you only had to say the words and I would have come running darling.” There's the flirt I remember. I thought, rolling my eyes.

“But judging by your urgency in requesting a meeting that my second expressed to me, I’m going to assume that’s not what you wanted to see me for.”

My smile dropped as I braced myself for the question I needed to ask him.

“I need you to break a mating bond”

His mouth fell open. For once in my life, Helion was speechless. “I don’t know if I can even do that. Are you sure that’s what you want?” His eyes saw right through me. I threw my head back, a sad laugh bubbling past my lips. 

“Yes. No. Gods I don’t know. I just don’t want it to hurt like this forever.” I felt treacherous tears starting to fall down my face. Helion grabbed my arms gently before I could wipe them away. 

“I know you well enough to know that you don’t run away from hard things.” He held me against his chest as I really started to sob. 

“Helion. Every second that I’m away from him it kills me. I’m over here dying inside over some male who only ever saw me as a second option.” 

“Then he’s an idiot. But the mother still saw fit to make you two mates. Give it some more thought, you’re clearly still not fully decided. I’ll do some research to see if it’s even possible and if you still want to, I’ll be here to help.” I nodded my thanks into his shirt. He takes my head between his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking down my face. He gives me a gentle kiss on the top of my head before I walk out of the room. 

I sat on the decision for a month. A month of volleying back and forth. Weighting the pros and cons of my choice. I had started doing my own research through the tomes in the library I had access to. My eyes widened as I finally found the information I needed. 

Picking up the book I all but sprinted to Helion’s office. I didn't bother knocking as I pushed past the door. Helion looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow at me. 

Panting, I showed him the page in the book. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.” I promised him. He still looked skeptical but walked around to where I stood anyway. 

“I can’t say this is going to be pleasant.” He said wearily as I laid down on the couch in his study. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing this. I’ve seen rejection but this is cutting off the magic at the source.”

I looked into the males eyes, eyes I had known my whole life.

“Please. Nothing can hurt more than this already does.” Sympathy washed over his face and he leaned over me, placing a hand to each of my temples. It felt like the worst headache I had ever had in my life. My head was being split open and I heard the whimper leave my mouth. The pressure of his hands lifted slightly and I fought to get out the words. “I’m okay. Keep going.” I couldn’t open my eyes to see his face but his hands didn’t move. The pounding broke to a burning heat. I could feel the moment it snapped, I could almost picture the scissors snipping that tight string that connected us. One last fleeting rush of pure pain pushed through the bond. And then it was gone. My head was still pounding, I opened my eyes and saw Helion panted above me. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, helping me into a sitting position. 

“Like I have one hell of a hangover.” I pressed a hand to the bridge of my nose. Like I could squeeze out the uncomfortable feeling. “But also lighter.” My free hand going to my chest. It would take some time to adjust to this new feeling. But I could not stop the smile that spread over my face. Before Helion could say anything else, I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck.

“I can’t thank you enough.” I said into his neck. He gave a tight laugh and hugged me back. 

“You should go sleep this off. Please tell me if any of the pain gets worse.” He held my face between his hands and I nodded as much as I could. I all but floated back to my room. 

I fell into a familiar routine back in the Day Court. I took up my old job as a researcher. My days were spent surrounded by the massive libraries of my home court. People would come to us with questions and it was our job to use the knowledge at our disposal to find them answers. It kept me busy at the very least, but I did have to admit that I love doing it. I felt more useful here than I ever had at the Night Court. Pangs of sadness would rip through me when someone snarked in a way that made me think of Cassian. When someone would smirk and I could only picture Rhysand standing in front of me as he beat me in chess. The art was so beautiful that I longed to show Feyre if only to see that twinkle in eye as she dissected the colors and shading used. 

I smiled as the pang in my chest at the thought of Azriel held no pain. It had taken me some time to get used to the emptiness in my chest, I had grown so used to the hollow feeling of the unreturned bond but this emptiness wasn’t pain but instead it was like a weight had been taken off my chest. 

Someone calling my name pulled me from my musing. One of the messengers, Dia, smiled brightly up at me. “Hey sunbeam. Helion asked me to deliver this to you.” I took the golden envelope from her. I thanked her and she turned around, leaving me back to my books. 

I slid my finger under the seal and pulled out the letter. He was flirty even in a letter. He had requested that I accompany him to the latest ball he was hosting. Helion, ever the charmer, even placed boxes for me to check yes or no. I giggled to myself at the juvenile nature of it, but checked yes with the quill sitting next to me. 

The ball was just a few days away and I was so excited as dress after dress were brought into my room for me to try on. The one that ended up catching my eye was a floor length glossimer dress, such a pale golden color it looked almost like sunlight itself. The bottom was dyed a light pink color that flowed into it seamlessly. It took my breath away as I smoothed out the light fabric. It fit like a glove and I knew instantly this was the dress I had to wear. 

My reflection looked like a stranger. My hair was pinned to one side, sweeping down over my shoulder and my back. A golden tiara was woven into loose curls. Long golden chandelier earrings studded with diamonds almost touched my shoulders. The sun had created a sultry blush on the high points of my cheeks. I looked happier than I had in years. I sensed Helion's presence in my room and caught his eyes in the floor length mirror. 

He let out a low whistle and I blushed, adjusting my tiara. I walked over to him and he held out his hand for me, twirling me around dramatically when I took it. “No one will be able to take their eyes off of you, Sunbeam.” His eyes hungirly raked over me, “If you ever reconsider my offer. I would take you to bed in a heartbeat. Just say the words.” I pushed his shoulder, I didn’t doubt his words. 

“Keep your pants on Helion. We have a ball to get to.” 

“I’m High Lord. I can be late.” His pupils had dilated and I rolled my eyes, pushing him out the door before I linked my arm into his. 

The ball was as lavish as I had expected. There was much to celebrate and this was mostly to welcome the new High Lord. Eris. Beron had finally died a few months back and Eris had officially stepped into the role with grace. The autumn court once known for its cruelty seemed to be taking a new direction and as I talked to nobility from the court, it was for the better. I had gotten to know him over the years, his frequent visits to the Night Court, plus a few flirty exchanges that I always brushed off, while he was helping us during the war softened me to him. Learning the true events of that night with Mor. 

I locked eyes with Eris across the room. He had been heartbreakingly handsome when he was just High Fae but as a High Lord? His hair had grown slightly longer, just touching his shoulders. Dressed in a deep maroon suit that showed off every single one of his muscles. The permanent scowl that had been etched into his face had been replaced with a smile that radiated comfort. My feet seemed to move without deciding to. Eris kept his eyes locked onto mine as I got closer. My cheeks heated up under his intense stare. 

“Hi little sunbeam,” Honeyed words wrapped around me. “Seems like you’re no longer hiding in the shadows.” He held out his hand, eyes flickering to the dance floor. I smiled up at him and gently placed my hand in his. 

His touch was firm and the warmth of his power radiated off of him. He clutched my waist, pulling me flush to his front. I felt every plane of his toned body pressed against me and goosebumps broke out across my skin having nothing to do with the temperature in the room. The two of us gilded across the floor. I could feel the eyes of the room on us but I only had eyes for the male in front of me. 

“If I had known you danced this good, I would have pulled you out of that miserable court a long time ago.” He spoke into the shell of my ear.  “I’ll never understand what the Shadowslinger was thinking, even I could smell the mating bond on you. Plus, one look at me with those beautiful doe eyes and I would have been putty in your hands.” He nipped at my earlobe and I felt it deep in my stomach. 

“Well good thing he’s not my mate anymore.” I whispered back to him, voice breathy. He responded with a kiss to my neck. All of a sudden I felt his warmth disappear. Before I could even process what had happened, I was standing half ways across the room. Eris just smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Stand down, you overgrown bat.” The High Lord said and that’s when I heard the growl from my side, caught a glimpse of wings and sapphire blue. Before another word could leave my mouth, I was being pulled out of the ballroom and outside to the balcony. 

I thrashed against Azriel’s grip on my arm. His hand wrapped around my wrist tight enough to bruise. 

“What the hel was that?” He yelled at me, finally letting go of my wrist.

“You had no right!” I screeched at him. Anger seethed through me. I felt my palms heat up from the light trying to escape from them. He went to grab my arm and I ripped it back from his reach. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Please.” Was all he said and suddenly it was like that night all over again. Me pouring my heart out and all he could say was please. 

“Please what, Azriel? Is that all you know how to do, beg and plead. For what? Was breaking my heart once not enough for you.” 

“Gods. What do you want me to say?” He ran his hands through his hair. He looked like he was about to lose it. Good. “Do you want to hear how I was fucking terrified. How any good thing that I had ever received had been taken away from me? That when I felt that twinge in my chest, that I knew what it meant but prayed to the gods that it wasn’t that.” I went to start in on him again. “Would hearing that I looked for you in every female I came across help us here?.” 

“Stop. Just stop. I’m sure you’ve rehearsed this all before but do you actually think I’m stupid enough to believe it?” I spit out between my teeth. 

“No. Gods this is coming out all wrong.” He ran a frantic hand through his hair. I clocked the shake in them “Why did you break the bond?”

I laughed at his audacity. “Why? You have the nerve to ask me why?” My voice dripped venom, “I did it because I couldn’t stand being tied to you like that. That night..” I started, he interrupted me.

“I said the most vile things I could think of. I panicked when you told me about the bond. If you could feel it too, I knew nothing good could have come from that so I pushed you away.” I shook my head, as if I could shake his words away from my ears. 

“You seemed so shocked when I told you.” 

His head sunk down, voice small “I was shocked because no part of me believed, believes, that I deserve you in that way.” When he stepped forward, I didn’t step away. Mind too busy catching up with his words. “Please say something. “ 

I turned my eyes up to look at him. Hazel eyes soft sparkling with unshed tears. I wanted to rip into him. I truly did. Some sick part of me wanted to make him hurt like he had hurt me but I know that wouldn’t fix anything here. What is done was done. 

“You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to say all the right things and just have me forgive you. You don’t get to say that you love me after everything you did.” He sighed. Leaning his head on top of mine. I frowned at the contact, but didn’t push him away, refusing to melt into him. “Whatever your reason. You said all those things that you knew would hurt me, you said them and some part of you had to believe them.” 

“I know. There isn’t a day that I don’t regret everything that I said, everything I had put you through over all those years. I took you for granted and I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you were gone. Until I felt that bond being snatched away from me” I wanted to push him back but something in me let his words sink into my bones. 

“I had dreamed for so long how it would feel when I finally heard you say those words, And do you know what I feel?” His eyes glimmered with hope as I took a step away from him, out of his grasp. “Nothing. I feel nothing for you. Not anger, not contempt.” Tears slipped out of his eyes at my harsh words. “Of course I remember what it felt like before. Maybe some part of me will always love you in my own way but I’m not tied to you anymore and I have never been so thankful for something in my entire life.” He flinched like I had hit him.

“Do you really mean that?” His voice was so small it almost made me feel bad for him. Almost.

“I do.” I sucked in a heavy breath. “Look, we’ll most likely still have to see each other so I don’t want to end on a bad note. You were still one of my best friends for over a century and this doesn’t undo all of that but this,” I gesture between the two of us, “Will never be anything else but that, a friendship.” He gave me a sad smile. 

“I’ll take whatever you are willing to give me.” I turned to walk away and he reached for my arm, I grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before I walked back to the ball that was in full swing. 

I weaved in between bodies easily. Finding Eris with ease. Despite being in the middle of a conversation, he stepped away the moment he sensed my presence. Not sparing a glance to the fae surrounding him. 

“That’s all settled then?” He asked, giving me a once over. I nodded and took his hand again.

“I believe we were in the middle of a dance?” I pulled him against me, not realizing how much I missed the feeling of his heat against my skin. I placed my head on his chest. We didn’t so much as dance, more so swayed in place. Arms wrapped around each other. He tapped my chin with a gentle finger and I let him guide my mouth up to his. The kiss was soft and sweet, like holding your hands in front of a warm fire after a day in the cold. When I tried to deepen it, he laughed against my lips. I let out a shameless whine as he disconnected our lips. As I looked into his eyes, I felt the stirring of something familiar and for the first time, welcomed it as that hole in my chest was filled again.

Tagging people that seemed excited about pt. 2

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @yearninglustfully @myromanempiree @starsandsins @melmo567 @saltedcoffeescotch

[m3l0nfl0at]

just thinking about you - s. gojo

Gojo Satoru x GN! Reader ; ANGST, hurt/comfort, spoilers for non manga readers, happy ending, swearing, 1.3k words, GOJO STANS WE UP BCOS HES COMING BACK TODAY!!

summary ; GOJO COMEBACK BCOS I SAID SO

melon’s recommended melody ; little freak - harry styles

Ever since the day Satoru died, you wanted nothing to do with Jujutsu society. Why would you want anything to do with the society who sold your partner as a mere weapon and nothing more. If it wasn’t for them putting all the pressure on him, maybe he would still be here with you, in your arms. You wonder if there was anything you did wrong leading up to the fight. Maybe not telling him you loved him enough, that he wasn’t just the strongest to you, or telling him to give up Jujutsu society altogether after the multiple incidents with Geto. However, that’s just you being selfish, you knew Gojo wanted to change the society he grew up in and who were you to stop him.

You remember the day he left so vividly, teleporting you to some strange city only to tell you to stay. He caressed your face repeating that he wanted nothing bad to happen to you and this was the only way to keep you safe. That whole night you spent the day in each other’s arms, repeating to him that he was going to win. To which he made a snarky comment saying, he would never lose to an asshole who calls himself “The King of Curses”. You remember that night an ugly feeling in your stomach settled and never went away. If you had to put your finger on it, you think you could call it anxiety. Anxiety, that if Satoru did come back, would he come back as the same person you knew and loved?

What would happen if he killed Sukuna and wasn’t able to save Megumi? Could he live with himself? Would he be able to sleep at night knowing he couldn’t save one of his students? Who was to say Satoru is guaranteed a win to begin with? You had to hold on to a string of false hope that Satoru would be able to defeat someone as strong as Sukuna. Not even letting your brain allow the option to think negatively at a time like this. So that morning you really cemented it into his brain that he will win and he’ll come back to you safe and sound. It was the only thing you could do. In this moment you wish you were a strong Jujutsu Sorcerer like himself. So you could possibly fight beside him, give him a fighting chance but you barely made it to be a grade one sorcerer.

Satoru reassured you saying that he was the strongest, nothing was going to go wrong and he would come back to you unharmed. As he warped back to where the fight was, you went to lie in bed. Not allowing yourself to think about anything else but Satoru winning. Yet, day turned into night and night turned into days. No one called to reassure you he was fine. You thought maybe he’s staying back to make sure his students were okay before making his way to you. Satoru was always one to arrive late for an event but he never once arrived late for anything pertaining to you. A couple of days pass by, as you look at your phone to see Shoko calling you. Your heart drops, palms are sweating, and your knees feel shaky. You were hesitant to answer, Gojo never said Shoko would call you if he won, hell Gojo said he would be with you after he won. So where is he, he won right? He had to have won, winning is in his birthright!

Answering that call was the worst decision of your life, Shoko told you how she had Satoru’s body and intended to use it. She explained the plan, how Gojo agreed to let Yuta use his body. You felt angry at Satoru for not explaining that he had enough doubts to the point where he had to make a backup plan.

Sick to your stomach that he could let himself get used like that beyond his death? What about what you wanted for him, what about how you wanted him here to properly grieve him. You hung up the call on Shoko not wanting to hear anything else, Satoru is dead. Not only did he lose but he left you here with no one, nothing in this stupid city he teleported you to. You walked out of the building, seeing the snow fall, feeling bitterness seep into you. How dare life go on without Satoru Gojo. You balled up the cold snow in your bare hands wanting to feel something, whether it be the cold or the burn in your hand from how freezing the ice was. Yet nothing came, you let go seeing your hand red and red is what you were seeing. “I hate you Satoru Gojo! I hope you hear that up there! How could you do this to me! How could you leave me here alone!” Feeling the cold hit your face as you scream into the wind. You didn’t move, feeling the cold nip at your body that was hot with anger.

After that day, you realized you couldn’t change anything. No outcome could bring Satoru back to you. In this cruel world the only thing you can do after one dies, is live on. You got numerous calls from Shoko choosing to ignore every single one. What could she possibly tell you that would make you feel better? Going outside to watch the snow melt away, hugging your knees. You hoped someone beat “The King of Curses” ass. That bastard had taken Satoru away from you, you’d hope he’d burn in hell. Snapping out of your thoughts when you heard the snow crunching from down the road. You turn around quickly wielding your cursed tool, the worst it could be was a curse but it’s not like you couldn’t handle it. At this point you really couldn’t care if you died, maybe dying would make you feel something you haven’t felt in days.

“Woah, no need to wield your tool!”, you freeze knowing that voice from anywhere. Your frozen state soon turns to anger wanting to kill whatever curse this was playing with you. Not yielding, he steps closer as you slice your tool downward warning whatever that was to not come any closer to you. “Stop right there, whatever you are!”, you have to remind yourself that he was dead. That’s not him, it can’t be, Satoru puts up his hands. “You know if you answered Shoko’s calls you would know I was coming.”, Satoru glances at you but it was no use. Knowing there was nothing more he could say, he lifts up his shirt showing you the scar where his body was cut in half. You falter, he sees your eyes soften just a bit. “Only I know you’re here, I teleported you here. I made sure no curses were in this area before taking you here.”, you drop your tool. Still feeling hesitant, debating if you were dreaming or Satoru was actually in front of you.

“I’m dreaming, the cold finally got to my head. You’re not here Satoru, you’re dead, you’ve been dead. Oh my god, I've got to get out of this town, I’m going crazy.” You cover your face with your hands, rubbing your eyes as hard as you could. Shit, maybe you need to get more sleep because you will not allow yourself to hallucinate like this. Feeling his hands peel your hands off your face, you start tearing up. “I’m here, I’m real.”, you shake your head not believing that this is real. “Am I dead? Is this heaven?”, Satoru laughs, pulling you into a hug. You feel the rumbling in his chest as you lay against it. “I didn’t win or come back unharmed but I told you I would come back to you, didn’t I?”, you allow yourself to feel this moment, scared that this was all a dream. If this was a dream you hoped to never wake up. Wanting to hold onto him forever after almost losing him for good. “I’m here, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I promise.”

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: idc what happens later today, hes back bcos i said so

@m3l0nfl0at on tumblr. All Rights Reserved. Do not steal, copy, or translate any of my works.

[wiltedivinity]

ıllıㅤ𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ; all you saw was red. the blood in his hands, the blood on their bodies, the blood on your own, and the color of the roses you're engulfed in. he wondered at the fact on how far you've brought yourself to get away from him, physically and emotionally, knowing you won't even get to escape a few meters. but you wondered... why?

ㅤ⨯ if any of the following trigger you, please click off: dead dove: do not eat ; non-con ; female!reader ; violence ; (minor character) deaths ; assault ; possessiveness ; yandere themes ; choking ; toxic & unhealthy relationships ; forceful actions ; suggestive themes ; semi-smut ; threats & insults ; angsty? ; childe is an asshole ; not proofread

ㅤ⨯ archive :: taglist :: inbox / appeal information :: 18+ ONLY

Why… Why… Why… You wanted to ask. You wanted to scream out till’ your lungs give you in. Your feet were planted on the ground firmly, refusing to move an inch as you watch the Harbinger pierce his blades into the chest of your mother repeatedly, the water of his weapon slowly being stained with dark blood, blood that’s mixed with different victims that have witnessed his wrath. Including yours. You eye the wound on your arm, the red liquid was still dripping and staining the ground under you. “Why…” it barely even came out as a whisper, more like a simple breath of the wind most people would ignore but not to him. What can you expect from a man that made You, a person he should have cared less for, his main priority in his life.

“Why…?” you sobbed out, bringing your head up from the floor to find him staring right back at you. The Harbinger stands up and carelessly lays your mother figure to the ground before kicking it out of his sight, dissipating his water blades into thin air as blood continues to stain him and maybe you in the process. “‘Why,’ you ask?” Childe hums, making his way towards you, raising his hand to meet your cheek but you slap it away before he could even touch. “Answer me.” you grit your teeth at the man who was smiling sadistically at you.

“Wow, what a feisty girl. Didn’t know you had it in you, love.” he chuckles, his hand coming in contact with your hand, gripping it and dirtying it with mixed blood. You groan and pull your hand away from his grasp and land a hit on his face. You leave him breathless for a second before his pupils dilated, touching the very spot you slapped him on and caressing it. “You’ve changed quite a lot.”

“I could say the same for you, Tartaglia.” you scoot away from him, your fists clenching in case he makes another move on you. He simply just laughs, each breath he takes, his laughter goes lower and lower until he is glaring at you with that very same sinister grin on his face. “As much as everything you do makes me breathless,” he says through his smile, “You speaking my codename isn’t it. Change that up, hun.”

“Nothing you do will make me change what I feel about you.” A hint of resentment was visible in your eyes, your pupils decreasing its usual size. You tried… Tried to seem threatening but to him he adored it. Even if you managed to intimidate him, he wouldn’t really back out, can he? He knows he’s stronger. He’s a survivor of the Abyss, the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Even if he was the Eleventh, the title of being a Harbinger alone is impressive and shows a symbol of great power and strength.

“You think so?” Childe sniggers. “I know so.” you reply boldly, attempting to stand back up only to get knocked down by the stomach by Childe’s elbow, “Oh, we’re not done yet. You’re staying here until our business is done.” you glare at his response, what does this man mean by business? If he means torturing you more than you know that seeing your family die before your eyes is more than torture. You attempt to dart away from him if standing wasn’t an option but he stops you by gripping your ankle.

“Get your fucking hand away from me, Tartaglia.” you sneer but it doesn’t stay for longer when he has his hand around your neck and pins you down, using it as a leverage. You can see his eyes darkening from your lips simply saying his title. “Like I said… You’re staying here until our business is done, [Y/N].” he emphasized with a growl at the end of the sentence as he quickly squeezed your throat. You felt the wetness in the corners of your eyes drip as he pushed you further into the ground. Eyes widening instantly when you realize he’s blocking your airway by choking you, his grip on your neck was unbearably tight and if he continued to stay like this you would–

You can’t breathe, you’re letting out panic and quick pants from your mouth as you try to get his grasp from your throat by pulling his wrist away but he’s stronger… You know that. So why not give up? You don’t want to. You can’t either. You try to kick him off with your legs punching his gut, Childe only groaned and laughed. “Hah,” he sighs, but that quickly turns into loud laughter.

“Haha!” he jests, pushing you on the floor as your consciousness slowly slips away from you. “Go on! Keep trying, it makes the job easier. Just look at you, turning blue from my hand around your throat.” he muses, a grin forming on his face sinisterly. You want to argue, but not in this situation. You could barely breathe and voicing out your thoughts will worsen. But in the end, you’d faint from the loss of breath and he would win in the end. He can easily overpower you anytime he wants. That’s a perk of being a Harbinger trained under an unknown woman from the Abyss.

“Sleep well. I’ll be waiting.” he coos lowly, your eyelids drooping lower as you let out your last breath before you faint. Once you do, he slowly pulls his grasp around your throat and admires the handprint on it. A nice dull, desaturated red. Almost the color of the blood of his opponents. Childe brings your unconscious body into his embrace and carefully stands up, looking back to see the limp figures of your family members laying on the floor, all bloodied and dismembered from his hold. If he could be honest, it was their fault, they disapproved of him ever since he was a member of the Fatui and the idea of their precious daughter to get associated with him was something they’d never want. You were okay in keeping contact with him and didn’t think much of his status. But that didn’t go through with your family. They even go as far as to separate the two of you and cut all ties with his family in order to keep you safe and away from him.

Oh what a bad decision they made.

.

.

.

Your eyes groggily open, and your body twitches beneath the mattress you were sleeping on. Your hand tries to touch your brow, but something prevents it. You examined your wrists and discovered that it was connected to the headboard of the bed, leaving you vulnerable and unable to move. You struggle under the restraints, desperate to be freed but a door has already been opened before you could move any further. "Ah, you're awake," says a familiar voice from the other side of the room, as footsteps approach your bed.

“I hope you don’t mind the chains. I didn’t want you escaping so this was a better alternative!” A glee came from Childe, that broad and boyish smile of his not wavering one bit when he sees your harsh glare. “Let me go,” you growl, shuffling on the bed aggressively but it only worsens the pain on your wrists.

“Oh come on, don’t get mad at me now. Be thankful you got chained in my bedroom instead of something much brutal.” He grabs your chin to stop you from moving too much, his grip is tight, one wrong breath and he’ll tighten it more so you sit still.

All of the sudden, his grin widens, but not in a good way. “Or maybe you’d like what I originally planned more.” The dark glint on his eyes becomes evident, “But let’s get you fed first. It’s been hours since you’ve passed out and you must be starving after that long!” And it switches up all too suddenly. It’s as if the man forgot that he kidnapped you and did monstrous things to your family.

He then places the tray on a desk near the bed. Childe eyes the handcuffs on your hand and shrugs, “You’ll get used to this.” He assures you, taking the hot, steaming bowl of soup and placing it near your face, the spoon already scooping the broth and placing it in front of your lips.

“Come on. Say ‘ahh’” the ginger-head instructs, blowing air on the spoonful of stew so you’re able to consume it. You wanted to protest but your stomach grumbles before you can do so, making the harbinger chortle. “Might as well open your mouth. It’ll make things easier for you… And your stomach.” He points out.

You purse your lips, shaking your head. This causes Childe to frown heavily, “You really are stubborn, aren’t you?” His jaw clenches, “You’re lucky I’m a patient man. Now, eat.” He shakes his hand, a little too aggressively but not enough to spill the bouillon. “No,” You furrow your brows, turning your head away from the spoon. “You heard me the first time.” You argued back, your fists already clenched. You would’ve thrown a punch on him if you could if it weren’t for the handcuffs.

“You really don’t know who you’re messing with, [Y/N].” The way he spoke your name was strong, almost intimidating. “I can shut the fucking mouth of yours if I wanted to. Hell, I’ll do that right now.” Childe smiles grimly, the sinister gleam on his eyes shine, the hand that was holding the spoonful of soup placed inside of his mouth, his free hand clutching onto your shirt and pulling you raspingly into his lips, forcing you to drink in the hot liquid.

You feel his tongue penetrate through your lips, forcing them open. Your chin was trapped between his fingers and he uses this to tilt your head backwards so you can drink the broth that he pours. You feel yourself coughing into Childe’s lips but he doesn’t budge one bit, only pushing you down the mattress with his arm behind your neck. Your attempts in pushing away were fruitless, so your only choice was biting his lip until it bled.

Fortunately that worked, though he didn’t pull away instantly. He let his tongue explore your mouth before doing so, it seems like he was enjoying how the soup tastes mixed with his blood. Childe lets out a few breaths before looking down at you, the corners of his mouth still stained with a bit of red liquid and dried up broth. “Don’t you think I’m done with you. You barely finished a portion of the soup.” He chuckles, his hand making its way to the bowl to scoop more fluid into his mouth until your foot kicks his thigh, making him freeze and look towards you.

“I-I’ll eat… Just not from your mouth.” You try to reason with him but he continues to drink up the liquid, his cheeks puffing a bit from the soup taking up the space inside of his mouth. You just know that he wasn’t going to do it your way by the way he’s leaning down on you and pressing his lips against yours. Pouring in whatever he has in your mouth yet again. You furrow your brows as tears flow down your cheeks, the taste is bitter. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and a fog in your mind.

.

.

.

You pant heavily, your chest was visibly rising from up and down as you stare up at Childe without breaking eye contact. The man didn’t show one bit of remorse for what he’s done to you. That shit-eating grin that was spread across his face shows it. He shuffles and rises up from the bed, taking the half-eaten bowl of soup before walking away. The moment he’s at the door, he turns his head to look back at you, eyes watching you from head-to-toe before nodding and walking away, seemingly amused.

You shake on Childe’s bed, throwing your head back as you sob. What have you fucking gotten into? Your eyes are squinted tight, your wrists are still painfully wounded from how forceful Childe was when handling your body not too long ago when you’re trying to set them free from the chains. To set yourself from things getting worse. You couldn’t stop wiggling your body on the mattress in an attempt to loosen yourself from the handcuffs.

This could’ve ended differently… Maybe if you knew and saw the red flags in his letter or the way he acted when he was around you, you would’ve escaped. But you should doubt that. The man’s a Harbinger, a child who fell into the Abyss, a striving and unmatched warrior and most importantly, a manipulative companion who always gets what he wants. And you being a long-time friend only worsens it since the both of you knew each other more deeply than anyone else. He knew your weaknesses, your likes, dislikes and everything.

And you don’t know any of his weaknesses. It was hard to guess. You only knew a few and it was you. But being his weakness also means being his strength, you know how you get him. You were his source of motivation. If you weren’t then he wouldn’t be torturing people to tell him about your whereabouts ever since your family cut ties with him.

“Don’t sleep on me now~ We still have yet to clean you up!” Childe chimes in the room once again, a towel in his hand as he approaches and kneels on the floor. His arms are on the mattress of the bed, his head firmly placed in between them as he stares at you. “I haven’t bathed you properly and seeing the stains on your shirt, you wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in something dirty, right?” He attempts to sway you. “I may be a bad guy, but I’m no monster.” You wanted to laugh. What the actual fuck does he mean by that?

You decide not to protest. You were too tired to do so and your lips could barely sound out a breath. “Good girl.. You’ve finally learned your lesson!” Childe grins at the wig hut of your tired face, the blush on your cheeks evident from the messy and hard kisses he’s been giving you. He trails his finger on them, slowly moving them downwards until they reach your neck, carefully grasping it, causing you to choke on your deep breaths.

“Good girls deserve rewards, correct?” Childe tilts his head with that stupid grin on his face. He must be proud at how much of a mess he’s made out of you. How much control he has over you. He knows you know it, he’s laughing to himself right now. “So let me reward you..” His smile drops, as well as his voice.

He didn’t waste a millisecond to bring his right arm under your knees and his left arm beneath your back. Shaking you a bit so that you wouldn’t sleep when he bathes you. “Stay awake for me, pretty. Don’t want you drowning.” He snickers with a teasing grin on his face. He takes quick but careful steps to the open door that leads to the bathroom. He sat you down in the bathtub and prompted you to take your clothes off. You can feel the embarrassment bubble up inside of you as well as your jaw tightening. “Come on, now. Don’t get too shy~ You’re gonna get used to this soon enough.” he traces the shape of your cheek before he lets his finger move lower to your neck to unbutton one button of your collar.

“You’re a big girl now, right?” He murmurs softly, grabbing your hand and placing it on your shirt, silently commanding you to undress. “But I don’t mind if I could do it instead. I’d be more than happy to see you trust in me in this.” Childe was trying his best to go easy on you. He knew he wouldn’t go anywhere if he continued to torture you.

He’ll make sure he’s all you can rely on. The only person you can trust in this dim cabin in the middle of nowhere.

“No.. I can do it.” You push his hand away as you slowly unbutton your shirt, each time you show a bit of your skin with each button, his gaze intensifies. He couldn’t help but put his hands on the sides of your stomach, his thumb brushing the soft and bare skin. He leans in and uses his teeth to drag the collar of your shirt to the side to reveal more of your figure. “So pretty..” he praises, licking a stripe of your shoulder. You sat there, frozen and clutching onto his shirt, attempting to push him away.

He notices this and controls his urges. He’s not gonna do anything, yet. “Undress the rest of your clothing for me.” He pulls away and stands up to discard his gloves. You do as he says and unzip your jeans, kicking them off. You were only left with your undergarments and the way he eats up every bare skin of your body makes you feel unsafe to what he’s gonna do next.

Childe really has a hard time breathing at the sight of you. God he’d just take you there right now but he slaps himself to the thought of it. “Not yet..” He scolds himself internally. He’ll do it once the time is right. For now, he needs you cleaned up. “Take those off too.” You swore you heard a low grunt at the end of his sentence but you didn’t dare question it. You unclip your bra from behind, struggling a bit from taking it off before finally letting it fall off your shoulders and onto your lap. 

Childe stares at you, admiring every curve and contour but he snaps out of it once your hands lowered to take off your underwear too. His eyes were stuck on your lap and at the sight of your cunt. He lets out a heavy huff he didn’t know he was holding for so long and grabs your undergarments, placing them in the sink. A moment later, he turned on the water faucet and washed your naked body with soap. Occasionally brushing the scars (that he made) with his thumb to soothe you (as well as admiring it as if it’s a work of art.)

It didn’t take too long to finish bathing you. It’s probably the first time you’ve behaved around him but that doesn’t mean you’ll tolerate him for long. Childe gently grabs your chin and tilts it upwards for your eyes to face him. You thought he’d do something he wasn’t supposed to but he just simply caressed the bruise on your cheek. You could only sigh and hope whatever he wanted to do just finishes.

“Let’s get you settled..” Childe gets up from his kneeling position and grabs a white towel. He turns his head and gestures to you to get out of the tub. You did what he commanded and stood up from the water and stepped out of it. You cringe at the cold breeze meeting your skin as the water droplets sticking on your drop to the ground.

You notice the ginger-haired man’s hesitance when seeing your bare body in all of its glory. The water made your skin glisten a bit, all he wanted to do now was mouth your neck, your collarbone, literally anywhere. He wasn’t being picky at this point. He just wanted his hands all over your body.

He couldn’t contain himself much longer and dropped the towel as he desperately strides towards you to wrap his arms around your waist and pull your wet body on his clothed one. His hands obsessively ravaging your hips and your back, “Fuck… So pretty for me, yeah?” He grunts at the feeling of being so close to you, chest-to-chest, trapped in his arms with no escape and no choice but to deal with his horrid affection. “All for me…” His fingers pat your bare hip until it reaches your ass, squeezing it lightly. You froze and clutch onto his shirt, “Stop… Please..” You plead, but he growls. “Fine..” he responds but doesn’t let you distance yourself from him.

Childe grabbed the towel that fell on the floor, he turns to you again and dry your body up, periodically brushing your intimate parts with his lips, saying it was to quicken the process. He wasn’t even trying to make a better excuse.

With one last stroke of the towel around your breasts, he pulls away and admires his work. “I’ll get you some clothes. Come with me.” he places the towel on a towel rail and leads you to– most likely– his room.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed as he explores through a closet of clothes. Maybe… Just maybe you could knock him out. He was really distracted at the moment but you don’t have anything to attack him with. Even if you did, you’d be dead. He’s not that weak nor does he have slow instincts to sense what’s wrong.

“Hey..” Childe snaps his fingers in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. Your eyes widen and blink a few times before looking up at him, confused. Childe stares at you for a moment before letting out a chuckle and sighing, amused at your act. “Done daydreaming, sweetheart?” he teases before handing you some folded group of clothes. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay like that for too long. But I don’t mind such a sight either way… I’ll think of other ways to heat you up if you let me.” He smirks and you internally cringe at his remark in trying to bed you.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Childe.” You grin awkwardly at him and attempt to grab the clothes from his hands but he refuses to give you it. “[Y/N].” He spoke your name. He sounded mad, as if you did or said something wrong and offending. “Yes, Chil–”

“Don’t call me that.” He cuts you off with a stern tone. The way his eyes narrow at how your lips voiced out his name— his codename to be specific. A name that’s normally used by either enemies or acquaintances that he's barely close with. “It’s Ajax.. Just call me that, [Y/N]. It’s just two syllables and four letters.”

“...”

Childe notices your silence and sighs, feeling frustrated. “Just this once at least.. Please?” he begs and you swore he looked pathetic like that. You can’t believe this is the exact same man who just committed manslaughter yesterday and got rid of your whole family. “...Ajax.” You mussitate,  a hint of annoyance within your tone from his persistence.

You were unable to catch the self-satisfied smile he had on his lips. Childe lets out a content hum as he places the pile of clothes on your hands and pushes you to sit on the edge of the bed. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He expresses his mirth fatuously, “Get dressed. I’ll take a bath. Behave for me, alright? Don’t go out without my permission.” He spoke softly, holding your shoulder, his grip was threatening but soon enough softened, taking it out of your body. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze on you didn’t waver as he studied every detail on you.

With a turn of his heel, he left and entered the bathroom, closing it and locking it as water started running inside.

You sat on the bed's edge. Feeling overwhelmed, the sound of his voice, the way his touch sends shocking shocks through your body. You were overthinking what had just happened and didn't see how your body began to shake from the cold. You wore the long-sleeved sweater and pajamas gently, shaking the thoughts out of your head. It strangely fits... Did he get your size while you were sleeping? But it didn't appear brand new if he did manage to get your size and buy clothing for it.

You stood up and walked onto the exit door of the bedroom you were in, looking towards the door where Childe was bathing. When you're close enough, you palm the knob and turn it slowly so as not to create too much noise.

The corners of your lips raise a bit when you successfully open the door but it soon drops when you hear another door creak behind you. “What do you think you’re doing?” an austere voice rumbles from a few feet. Slowly turning your head, you’re met with the sight of Childe’s bare chest that was dripping with hot water.

You were so distracted by his sudden closeness that you didn’t notice his hand closing the door while leaning in front of you so it couldn’t be opened. “Be a dear and get out of the way.” his tone wasn’t as gentle as before. You warned yourself not to get him mad or else you’ll face something you’ll regret. You let out a sigh as you take a step to the side and awkwardly walk towards the bed to sit there again. Childe seems to calm down from the way his shoulders slump as he locks the door. He turns to look at you before making his way over to the bed, “Look at me.” he commands, gripping your chin harshly.

Once making eye contact with you, he stayed silent. You knew what he was saying from how his eyes were narrowing while he let out uneven, heavy breaths.

It didn’t take long for him to pull away in pure silence so he could dress up. Once finished, he crawls over to you and forces you to lay down on the mattress with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you locked within his embrace. You feel his nose brush up against your nape, breathing in and familiarizing your addicting scent. “You smell divine..” The man murmurs from behind, his hand palming your stomach in a loving way. He feels the way you tense up from his touches and he hums, grinning from the feeling. “Relax… I won’t do anything yet.”

His ‘reassuring’ words only served to stiffen you up. Childe sighs before his grip tightens around you and wraps a leg around your pair. He decided to just stay silent, assuming you’ll get used to his presence around you soon enough. It’s not like you have a choice either way.

.

.

.

“Dear…” Childe murmurs longingly as he turns his body to face yours. He’s been tossing and turning all night during his sleep and he didn’t notice that until now. He opens his eyes tiredly with a sheepish smile as his arms wrap around the soft figure in front of him, “I’m so sorry about that… Did I wake you?” he asks, his tone tinged with a bit of guilt.

No response.

Childe purses his lips as he shakes his head and sits up, gripping what seems to be your shoulder and forcing you to look at him.

But it wasn’t you. It was just a pillow.

Upon his realization, he quickly got up and searched around the house for you. It’s not like you’ve gotten far, right? Not to the point you’re outside the cabin he’s trapping you in. All the doors were locked, windows closed shut so that your weak body couldn’t open it.

That is, until he noticed the front door lock on the floor. He wouldn't have seen your escape if it weren't for the gleaming metal flashing in the dark. As he slammed the front door wide, he noticed footsteps, footprints pointing towards the woodland that encircled the lodge. He grits his teeth before donning the dark, heavy coat that had been hanging nearby before stepping out to get you and take you back inside.

Even though everything was dark, he could see where he was going. Where you were going. It won't be long before he catches up with you. He realizes you didn't go very far. You're too lost in this forest and you'll end up back where you started(. There’s a reason why he set up this specific forest when trapping you). Do you really think you can escape him that easily? He chuckles to himself. It’s amusing. It’s good to have some determination, some hope at least, but it’s also good to be realistic. 

.

.

.

You ran and ran as fast as you could, away from the cabin in the woods, away from the creature within it. Your feet hurt severely. You’ve underestimated how harsh the winter of Snezhnaya is, how the breeze alone causes your whole body to turn numb from the cold. What’s worse was that you couldn’t stop moving no matter what. Even a single second counts, driving you closer to your escape.

You struggle to breathe after all that movement, causing you to stumble against a thick tree root. You pant, taking heavy breaths to regain your composure but you can’t really be calm in a situation like this, can you?

You stood up, dusting the snow off your clothes as you continued forward, trembling a bit from feeling the sudden warmth rising up your body. Fuck… This is gonna be the death of you..

You hear footsteps tapping behind you, approaching you slowly and surely. A howl can be heard from behind that was soon followed by a growl. You slowly turned your head in search of the source of the sound and quickly regretted it. The sight of the darkish Rifthounds glaring at you sent a shiver on your spine. They were quite far but it didn’t take awhile for them to start noticing your presence and preparing to teleport or sprint at you.

You saw the Rockfound Rifthound instantly turning its body, disappearing for a second before appearing right in front of you, about to swing its tail to attack you. You shriek out loud, your legs instinctively move to the opposite direction only for you to instantly get knocked forward when feeling the tail make contact with your back. Groaning, you attempt to get back up, ignoring the sights of the Whelps drawing nearer towards you.

You clenched your fist before grabbing a big enough rock and throwing it at the Rifthound that just attacked you to catch it off guard. Seeing it roar in pain and the Whelps looking towards their leader, you took this chance to escape from the creature's grasp.

Never have you felt this much adrenaline rushing through your vines. You felt so dead yet so alive right now…

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a static of Electro rotating over to you. The projectile makes an impact on your side, causing you to get pushed and injured in the process. You grunt gutturally, clutching your hip and left arm, hissing as the sting worsens the more contact it has with your hand and other solid things.

You look over to your side, spotting a Thundercraven Rifthound nearing you along with its accompaniment of Whelps. Your hands swiftly touch the ground swiftly, moving it in hope to find another rock but to no avail.

You were trying to think of a way to escape this but there was no way out. You were surrounded by the mobs, and they looked like they wouldn’t let you off the hook easily. You spot a current of Electro and what seems to be aiming at you. You pulled your arms to your face, blocking whatever was about to touch you.

You hiss at the feeling of the electrifying scratch on the small reveal of your skin and twitch when hearing the wail of the Rifthounds around you. Another guttural sound erupts not so far from where you sit, causing you to press your face deeper into your arms.

“Get up.” Someone spoke, their tone serious and authoritative.

It took about a few seconds to do exactly that. You spot that the Rifthounds were gone, only leaving parts of their body left behind. You knew you weren’t strong but it did surprise you that every single one of them was taken care of. “T-Thank you, mister–?”

“I said– Get Up.” His voice booms through you, causing your ear to ring a bit. You perk your head up with your eyes squinted, “Apologies… I–” A breath was taken away from your lungs upon feeling the man’s hand wrapped around your neck, dragging you from the ground up to the sky. The hand squeezes your throat tightly, making you swing your legs on instinct to kick whoever was holding you. “All under my mercy now, huh? What happened to your acts of disobedience? Did it all get thrown out the window once I teach you your lesson?” The man scoffs, harshly dropping you on the snowy ground and kicking you on your stomach, making you turn and tumble down into a group of bushes.

You hiss, the feeling of small pricks picking into your skin, causing small but nasty scars that leave you groaning. You couldn’t see, some even scratched near your eyes and for you not to get blinded by them, you squint your eyelids shut.

“Please– I’m sorry! Let me out!” You sob, trembling in fear, in the stinging pain of the pricks. “Oh, are you now?” The man walks towards the bush, tapping his foot as he watches you struggling. ”Do you mean it?” He plants his foot on top of the bush, slowly but surely deepening its form to strangle you more.

“Yes– I do! Agh–”

“Beg for your life if you mean it.” He deepens it once more. Even if you were under this confined space of a bush, you can spot the sadistic grin plastered on his face, clearly enjoying every second of your suffering. “P-please… I plead.. For mercy. Please.. I can’t br–eathe-hah!” You breathe heavily in between your words, the form of the bush only trapping you little by little. “Do you promise… Pinkie promise to not escape out of my grasp? To obey my every command, dearest?” You feel your hand being taken out of the bush and into the cold air outside. You whine, feeling the small pricks touch your skin in the process.

A pinkie awaits to intertwine with yours, “I’m waiting.” He reminds by delving his foot deeper, causing you to cry out in agony and wrapping your pinkie around his, “I promise! Please!”

“That’s my girl.” He jests in amusement as he pulls away, cracking his knuckles and stretching his body to dive in and carefully but surely pull you out of the spiky bush. He cringes a bit once spotting the small spikes in your skin. He sighed and decided to take care of them later since keeping you warm was his priority right now. Taking his jacket off and wrapping it around you, he made sure the pricks didn’t bother you on the way back to the cabin. He takes a look at the rose bush one last time before picking one of it up and placing it on the chest of his jacket.

He caresses the petals before his fingers meet your chin to tilt them up, “C’mon.. Rest. You’re gonna need it.” He hushes you quietly before forcefully closing your eyes.and pecking your forehead. You couldn’t soften up in his presence even if you wanted to but the way your body just betrays you, forcing you to go limp to gain rest it needs, it gave you no choice to stay awake even if you wanted to.

.

.

.

“You’re awake, I see..” A voice spoke from above. You twitch, turning your head to the source and furrowing your brows upon spotting the oh-so familiar, scarred and freckled face that was right in front of you. You attempt to push him away by nudging your knee against his abdomen but that was countered from a sharp pain coming from both your legs. “..Ahah–!” You let out a roar of discomfort. Chidle grins and jests upon seeing your face contort in displeasure, “You should think twice before doing that. I still haven’t fully catered your body yet.”

He pulls your leg lightly which is enough for your body to get dragged onto his lap. “Don’t move.” He commands, emphasizing it with a squeeze of your thigh.

You internally whimper when you feel him slowly but surely take the thorns out of your skin. “How cute.” he laughs softly, patting a wet, warm towel on the small open wound. “You’re doing great. Just as you should. Continue behaving for me, will you? It’s not like you’re going anywhere with these.” He plays around with the chains around your ankle that was connected to a wall. “It fits you well, don’t you think?” Childe murmurs lovingly, as if he’s admiring the work he’s done on you… Trapped, under his mercy, with no escape.

After finishing up the wounds on your left leg, he leans in close to your face, his hand cupping your waist to bring you closer to him, close enough to place a kiss on your forehead. “There we go… Such a behaved little thing.” Childe jests before standing up and dusting his pants. “Hopefully this will be enough for you. Sleep well, alright?” He pats and ruffles your hair, his hand sliding down to your cheek and caressing it. “Don’t try escaping me. Because next time, you won’t even get to be sleeping under this damnation.”

You tried to bite his palm because it was so close to your mouth, but he took his hand away and quickly brought it back to hit you, turning your head the other way as your cheek erupted in pain. His hand catches your chin and angles it violently in his direction as you hiss. He's grinning viciously, his eyes twitching with annoyance at your attempt to turn the tables on him again, “Still being a bitch? Thought you learnt your lesson… Maybe I should’ve left you to rot.” He snarled, gripping your chin tighter.

“Waste of fucking breath.” He pushes you against the wall and lets go of you, standing with a displeased expression and turning to take his leave as you groan in pain. You clenched your hands into a fist as you watched him climb up the stairs and reach for the door. Childe looks back, glancing upon you one more time before smiling in content to himself and shutting it, following with the sound of a key locking in.

You were now by yourself. But then again it was much better than having to be breathing the same air as the man who just hit you.

You side meets the dirty mattress under you as you hug your knees, seeing as he didn’t give you a blanket to keep yourself warm. You were unable to muffle down your silent sobs, clutching onto your own cheek as it continued to sting. You question… You wonder, why?

…Just why?

°

Ouch… Huh?

You groggily opened your eyes, the feeling of something biting your neck. A wet sensation was followed after and you instantaneously snapped out of your tired trance to grab whatever was in front of you. “Ah– Geez… Relax, will you? This mattress is dirty enough.. Wouldn’t want blood to stain it too..” Childe groaned, his hand groping your hip harshly to make you pause. He pulls his face away from your neck, wiping the saliva dripping from his mouth. “H-hey! Have you not had enough already?!” You screeched and tried to get him off of you but were unable to. “Shut it.” he scoffs, shutting your mouth by forcing his lips onto you.

He slips his hand underneath your shirt, touching every part he wishes. “You feel so divine.. I wonder how you’d feel around me, yeah?” He grins against your lips. His tongue intrudes into your wet cavern, drinking in your moans and muffled noises. The wet sounds of his mouth against yours, showing how desperate he is for your taste.

You whine, feeling Childe’s hand exiting your shirt to enter your shorts instead, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your clothed cunt. He sighs, pulling away from the kiss, admiring the string of saliva connecting your lips. Licking his lips, he brings his face close to you until you are nose-to-nose. 

“Wanna try that out with me, my dear?”

© wiltedivinity 2024. reposting, plagiarizing, translating, claiming authorship or any form of unauthorized use is strictly prohibited. legal action may be taken against violators.

[saphronethaleph]

Sith Succession Planning

“Master,” Darth Vader began. “I am curious.”

“...troubling, but go on,” Palpatine replied.

“What would happen if you died?” Vader said.

Palatine considered his answer.

“Why do you want to know?” he replied.

“I am curious,” Vader responded. “We covered this.”

“Well,” Palpatine said. “In order to prevent anyone from my family assassinating me, the legal results are meant to be an enormous snarl. Familicide is the main cause of death among Palpatines, statistically speaking, over the last hundred years.”

“I mean more in terms of what happens both to the galaxy, and also… physically,” Vader explained. “I was going to see if it happened through old age, but as far as I can tell you have only aged once since I met you and that was all in a single burst.”

“You were going to see if I would die from old age?” Palpatine asked.

Vader shrugged. “I did not see a way to prevent it,” he replied.

“Well, for your information, I intend to simply not die,” the Dark Lord of the Sith told Vader evenly. “I am simply built different.”

Vader looked his master up and down.

“You are not,” he said. “You are not built at all. I am built different, because over fifty percent of my body weight is cybernetics of non-standard design.”

“It is a figure of speech, Vader,” Palpatine told him. “It is popular with the ‘youth’ of today.”

He looked momentarily thoughtful. “Or, at least, so I am told. My advisor Jade told me.”

“I see,” Vader said, who didn’t. “Though I am fairly sure it is possible for Sith to die. I caused it to happen, after all.”

“Oh, Tyrannus wasn’t a proper Sith,” Palpatine muttered, dismissively.

“...he could do Force Lightning,” Vader objected. “I cannot do Force Lightning.”

“Then maybe you are not a proper Sith either,” Palpatine said, then shrugged. “But the fact that he died while still the Apprentice showed that he did not have what it takes to succeed as a Sith.”

Vader tilted his helmet slightly, and Palpatine waved his hand.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said.

“I can think about it if I want,” Vader replied, a bit testily. “But, as I say, I am curious. What would happen?”

“To the galaxy…” Palpatine mused, considering it as a thought experiment. “Well, I suppose that depends on the exact details, but I suppose Amedda would try to seize power. He’s pathetic, though. And I suppose you might try to command the military, but you’re no good at politics, so you would have to rule through fear.”

“I am good at fear,” Vader said.

“True,” Palpatine admitted. “But it’s academic, anyway. I have a plan in place that would result in the galaxy being burned to the ground if ever I die. And I have another plan to clone me so I can possess my own clone and return to life.”

Vader coughed, which was quite a feat for him.

“What?” Palpatine asked. “What is it now?”

“You don’t think you might want to pick just one of those, Master?” he asked. “Unless you want to return to life in a clone body in a galaxy that has just been burned to the ground?”

Palpatine shrugged.

“I don’t intend to test either of them,” he said. “Like I said. I would simply choose to not die.”

“I really don’t think that’s an option,” Vader replied, thoughtfully. “If it was, I think everyone would do it.”

“Built different,” Palpatine reiterated. “Keep up, Vader.”

“Then what about physically?” Vader went on. “If Dooku wasn’t a proper Sith, that is. All that happened with him is that his head came off.”

“Well,” Palpatine began. “I do have an absolutely enormous amount of Dark Side energy suffusing most of my bodily parts, to keep me in good shape as otherwise I would have suffered total organ failure.”

“Total organ failure… from what?” Vader said.

“The Dark Side energy suffusing most of my body parts,” Palpatine answered. “It also renders me immune to poison… hmm… what would happen if I died… well, I suspect that all that Dark Side energy would explode outwards, conveniently also killing whoever it was who had managed to kill me.”

He looked thoughtful. “Now there’s an idea. Perhaps if I do it properly, I can skip the clone phase and just possess whoever it is who killed me. It would be nice to be in a younger body.”

Vader raised one of his hands.

“What about if Yoda had killed you?” he asked.

“Academic,” Palpatine pointed out. “Since I chose not to die. Really, this conversation would be a lot shorter if you’d just accepted that answer at the beginning… it’s youth language again, but if I understand what Jade was saying right the simple way to put it is that I identify as immortal and you should respect that.”

Vader nodded slightly.

“...you said clones,” he pointed out. “Do those clones exist already? Or are they going to be started later?”

“Why does that matter, Vader?” Palpatine asked. “Do not think you can destroy my contingency plans. They are far out of your reach.”

“I’m more wondering something else,” Vader defended himself. “About your clones. Do they come out as old as you?”

Palpatine blinked.

“What?” he asked.

“Or do they come out young?” Vader went on. “Because thinking about you as a fifteen year old is giving me the heebie jeebies, but imagining a one hundred and thirty seven year old fresh grown clone is a bit weird as well.”

“You never talk like this around anyone else,” Palpatine said.

“I have an image to maintain,” Vader replied. “Fear. And so on.”

Palpatine had been processing something else.

“A hundred and thirty seven?” he asked. “Vader! I am eighty three.”

“Really?” Vader asked, sounding honestly surprised.

He paused.

“...you look good for it. You know. Considering.”

“But to answer your question,” Palpatine went on. “Of course they come out the same age! What would be the point of coming back looking completely different?”

“Couldn’t you just be in a younger body now?” Vader asked. “By cloning yourself a younger body, and possessing that? I’m just wondering why you wouldn’t take that option.”

Palpatine considered the question.

“Spite,” he said, eventually.

“...is that the only answer?” Vader said, after several seconds of silence.

“Yes, pretty much,” Palpatine confirmed.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Insecure.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Toxic!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Modern AU, AFAB!Reader, Non///Con, Public Sex, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Wildly Unhealthy Relationships, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, and Self-Oriented Victim Blaming From Reader. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. No Seriously Dude Those Doves Are So Dead.

[Part One]

“This is boring.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s too hot to be outside. And this place reeks.”

“You’re wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer, and it’s a college campus. I don’t know what you expected.”

“You look hot.”

You let out a disgruntled groan, leaning back in your seat and bringing a hand up to your temple. Kunikuzushi seemed to drink in your agitation, crossing his arms, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smug grin. “How did you even know I was here?”

His answer was immediate, non-verbal. He held up his phone, the screen blatantly and proudlydisplaying a simple grid-map and, of course, a little blue dot settled into the grey backdrop. You felt something start to ache in the back of your skull. “You’re tracking my phone?”

“Yeah, right, your phone.”

You started to buckle into yourself, but stopped yourself. You were in public – tucked into the smallest corner of your campus’ most out-of-the-way common area, sure, but still in public. There was a group of students gathered around one of the bigger tables less than ten feet away, and another couple just behind them. You used to fight with Kunikuzushi so often. You’d never resorted to public screaming matches, but you’d never had to think twice before storming out of bars and cafes, never thought twice about blocking his number or throwing away his flowers or telling anyone who’d listen that you were absolutely, definitely, totally going to break up with him for good, this time. Now, you couldn’t find it into yourself to be so brash. You couldn’t stand the idea of being seen with him, let alone calling more attention to yourself. It felt like you were one slip-up, one arm draped around your waist, one ring of bruises wrapped around your neck before someone saw through you, guessed what kind of person Kunikuzushi was and confronted you about why you’d stay with someone like that. You were afraid of him, sure, but you were more afraid of what would happen if people realized just how scared you really ought to be.

Not that you wanted to be with him. You wanted to move across the country, to burn your clothes and cut your hair, to change your name and pretend he’d never so much as lookedat you, but your options were limited. He’d taken care of your internship the day you’d moved in with him, and he bought you out of your lease within the same week. The few friends you still had after Kunikuzushi sunk his teeth into your social life were pushed to a distance, and the thought of running back to the same people who’d told you to stay as far from Kunikuzushi as you could get was enough to make you feel dizzy and exhausted, light-headed and glued to the floor all at once.

Even that, the idea that you could go to someone for help, was delusional. He barely let you go to class, and even that was a tedious connection, a privilege that could be revoked with a phone call and a new deadbolt on the door to his apartment. He didn’t like it when you had things to think about that didn’t revolve around him, and while keeping him happy was in the best interest of your safety, dropping out wasn’t an option. You could find another place to live. You could find another internship. But, if flunked out, if you failed too many classes, you’d lose your scholarship. If you lost your scholarship, you wouldn’t be able to graduate. If you didn’t graduate…

You had to graduate. You had to.

You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get away from Kunikuzushi, if you didn’t.

You heard a scoff, felt the table shake as Kunikuzushi drove his heel into one of its legs. “Y’know, it’s rude to ignore people. ‘specially after I came all this way just to spend time with you.”

You must’ve zoned out. You hadn’t meant to, you never wanted to give Kunikuzushi an excuse to shorten your leash even further, but it’d been happening more and more. On your best days, you could keep yourself grounded, stay in your own body long enough to make it seem like you were managing what has left of your life. On your worst days… well, you didn’t remember much of your worst days. You usually couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. Kunikuzushi loved your worst days. “Sorry,” you mumbled, more out of reflex than any genuine remorse. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Like I said, I wanted to spend time with you.” He shrugged, still grinning. “You should drop out.”

Just like that, your heart dropped into your stomach. If you hadn’t been in public, if you weren’t so disconnected from what went on in your own mind, you might’ve cried.

Instead, you bowed your head. Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be, but it was a small miracle you could force yourself to speak at all. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Since when do you think for yourself?” He wasn’t fazed. The question was accompanied by a slow, breathy laugh, a flash of teeth as he leaned forward, propping his head on his fist. “I mean, c’mon, it’s not like you’d actually use a degree. I’m already taking care of you.” He dropped lower, taking on a raspy lilt. “All you’ve gotta worry about is keeping me company and taking my—”

You cut him off with an indignant huff, already recoiling. You moved to stand, to get away from him, but felt a pair of hands cover your eyes before you could. There was a familiar laugh, the feeling of curly hair bruising against your cheek, and then a melodic voice playing just beside your ear. “Guess who.”

For the first time that day, you couldn’t help but smile. “I know it’s you, Ajax. You’re the only person lame enough for this.”

There was a hum before he let you go, bracing himself on the back of your chair and leaning over you. He was dressed like he always was – which was to say, like it was the middle of winter, his coat long enough to reach his ankles and thick enough to make you shudder with sympathy pains, your agony unaided by the scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Maybe you shoulddrop out, or transfer, at least. Between him and Kunikuzushi, you were starting to think there was something in the air that made people want to get heatstroke. “Hey, I’m just trying to surprise my favorite study-buddy. You looked like you could use a little cheering up.” He glanced toward Kunikuzushi, then flashed you a knowing grin. “I know this guy tends to bring down the mood.”

Kunikuzushi sunk into his seat, his smugness immediately overshadowed by agitation. “Oh, you know each other?”

“We’re coworkers,” Kunikuzushi answered, glaring daggers toward Ajax.

“Wait, you have a job?”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only scoffing and throwing his head to the side. Ajax took up the mantle. “Honestly, I’m more surprised to see him hanging out with someone outside of work. Always struck me as the ‘lone wolf’ type, if you know what I mean. If I knew you two were friends, I would’ve made more of an effort to drag him to our—"

As he spoke, his hand came to rest on your shoulder, but he’d barely touched you when Kunikuzushi pushed himself to his feet, already snarling. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.” Reflexively, Ajax pulled back, holding his hands up defensively, and with a ragged breath and a half-hearted effort to calm himself down, Kunikuzushi went on. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch someone’s fiancé, idiot?”

This time, Ajax’s laugh was slightly more strained, his posture slightly more stiff. “Yeah, uh, right. My bad, dude.” He moved to ruffle your hair (his most common send-off, no matter how often you groaned and complained that you’d look like a mess for the rest of the day), but stopped himself quickly – rubbing the back of his neck. “I… didn’t realize you were engaged.” Despite his stiffness, he managed to offer you a small smile. “See you in class?”

“Save me a seat.” And then, letting your eyes fall to your feet, “Sorry about him, he’s…”

“Territorial, I get it. I’d be a little jealous too, if I managed to get a ring on your finger.”

He winked, and before you could roll your eyes, he’d turned on his heel and disappeared around the nearest corner, melting into the throng of milling students. Once he was gone, you turned back to Kunikuzushi, still seething. That was one of the worst things about being with Kunikuzushi. It wasn’t enough to make your life miserable, he had to make sure you didn’t have anything left to live for. “Why would you tell him we’re engaged?”

“I’ll get you a ring.” You opened your mouth, but he was talking before you had a chance to cut in. “This is why you shouldn’t bother with this shit. All you’re going to do is waste your time and get hit on by desperate losers trying to get their dicks wet.”

“As opposed to staying home with you, where I can get hit on by one desperate loser trying to get his dick wet.” You shook your head, but shut your mouth and stood up before he could pull you into a real argument. Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you turned away from him, starting in the direction of your lecture hall. “I have to get to class. We can talk about this later.”

Before he could protest, you made your way out of the common area. There was a beat of silence, a brief moment of respite. Then, you heard his footsteps pick-up behind you, settling into pace with your own. You glanced over your shoulder and, predictably, found Kunikuzushi walking behind you. “What do you want now?”

“You’re going to class,” he said, a smug grin already tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m coming with you.”

You frowned. “It’s a general credit. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”

“I don’t care.” He took your hand in his, squeezing gently when you tried to pull away. Immediately, you stopped resisting, hyper-aware of the way his blunt nails scraped against your skin, of how intensely his eyes burnt into yours. “Is it a crime to want to spend as much as time as I can with my fiancé?”

You shuddered involuntarily. You couldn’t tell if jealously staking his claim to you during a minute-long conversation with your classmate and his coworker was genuinely his idea of a proposal, or if he just took joy in the way you flinched every time he threw that word around. Either way, you didn’t like it.

“Fine, whatever.” You shrugged open the door to one of the more rustic buildings on campus, dragging Kunikuzushi along with you. “Just don’t cause a scene, okay? I’m really not in the mood.”

He only smiled, letting his head lull to the side. You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from him, focusing on the crowded hallway in front of you instead. Your class was in one of the larger lecture halls on campus – stadium style, oppressively beige, the rows of desks curved around the raised stage at the front of the room. It was already mostly full, too, thanks to how long Kunikuzushi had held you up. You made a brief effort to find Ajax before deciding you didn’t want anyone you knew by name to see you latched onto your moody boyfriend and moved toward one of the middle rows, but he stopped you, digging his heels into the floor. “Sit in the front.” You sent him a look that said ‘what the fuck do you want now?’, and he grinned. “What? I’m trying to do you a favor.”

“You can do me a favor by letting me get through this with minimal psychic damage.” You dragged him to the back of the hall and slid into a relatively empty row, trying to stay as far away from the other students as you could. In spite of his stubbornness, his preference to control everything down to how often you blinked, he didn’t fight it, just slipping into the seat next to you, leaning back and watching on as you pulled out a half-mangled notebook and a couple pens. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus, much less take notes with Kunikuzushi hovering over your shoulder, but you wanted to at least pretend you didn’t care about him and his leering for the next two hours. It wasn’t like he’d leave you alone once you got back into the confines of his stifling, barren apartment, so you had to take advantage of what little peace you’d be able to get, today.

By the time your class started, he was fully reclined, his arms crossed and his expression slack in boredom. The rows hadn’t been crammed as closely together as possible, he might’ve propped his feet on the desktop, shut his eyes, done everything he could to show just how disinterested he was in the lecture he’d demanded to sit through.

By the ten-minute mark, he’d pulled his chair next to yours, watching over your shoulder as you jotted down what little of the professor’s lecture you could hear over the sound of your race heart. You didn’t like it when Kunikuzushi got so close to you, anymore. It was hard to remember why you ever had.

Twenty minutes in, you felt his hand ghost over your leg, his fingertips grazing past your thigh. You tried to brush it off, to ignore him, but his hand settled onto your knee and you snapped up to glare at him. “What are you—”

He shushed you, leaning against your side. “Keep your voice down. We’re in class, remember?”

You frowned, but relented, turning your attention back to the front of the classroom. You resigned yourself to pointedly ignoring him, jotting down incoherent notes and attempting to drown out Kunikuzushi’s looming presence with the professor’s droning lecture. You’d almost blocked him out by the time he started moving, again, kneading the plush of your thigh gently, his dull nails burrowing into your skin just a little too deeply to ignore. Determined, you didn’t react, but that didn’t faze him. His hand only crept higher, catching the hem of your shorts and toying with the thin fabric, forcing you to acknowledge just how little you’d done to fend him off. If you’d known he was going to visit you on campus, you would’ve worn jeans, or made more of an effort to avoid him. If you’d known he was going follow you into class just to harass you, you would never have gotten up in the first place.

You jumped as his fingers slipped under the fabric, fanning out against your skin. With an airy sigh, you leaned back, already swatting away his hand. You spoke under your breath, trying to hide the way your voice shook. “Fine. If you’re going to be a brat about it, we can go home.”

“And ruin your attendance?” His tone was pleading, muted but dripping with something thick and saccharine. “I can’t let you do that, baby, not when your grades are so importantto you.”

You tried to get up, but he drew back, throwing an arm over your shoulders and pulling you back into your seat. “I tried to take you home, but no, you decided that sitting in a dusty room with that fucking redhead was more important to you than me.” He hauled you closer, holding his mouth next to your ear. “If you decide to go home now and waste more of my time, I promise, you’ll be in for something much worse than anything I can do to you here.”

For the second time that day, you froze, suddenly unable to move. Kunikuzushi took your silence as submission, kissing your cheek before his hand fell back to your thigh.

This time, he was kind enough (or cruel enough) not to play coy, not to try to hide what he was going to do. He squeezed your thigh with enough force to bruise before delving into the space between your legs – his middle finger tracing over the seam that ran over the length of your cunt, only pausing to rub circles into your clit through the material. You really, really should’ve worn something else, something thicker, something that would’ve put you at a distance from his invasive touch. You would’ve given anything not to feel that slow, painful friction, not to recognize the aching curl of arousal starting to form in the pit of your stomach. Kunikuzushi was an asshole – a possessive, controlling asshole – but he knew you. He knew your weak points. He’d held you down and exploited them until you knew that as well as he did.

With two fingers, he pressed into your clit, and you jolted into yourself. Reflexivity, you tried to clench your thighs shut, but Kunikuzushi caught you by the knee and spread your legs farther, making more room for him to work between them. “Play nice.” He was whispering, but you wished he wouldn’t talk at all. You wished he’d keep his mouth shut and let you suffer in silence. “You don’t want to make this into a show, do you?”

You didn’t. God, you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine anything worse than getting caught, than having someone notice and scream and draw attention to what Kunikuzushi was doing to you. In the best case scenario, he’d stop and you’d have plausible deniability, pretend that you believed you could say your overly affectionate boyfriend was just being touchy and someone would buy it. In the worst case scenario, in the most likely scenario, he wouldn’t, and you didn’t know how you be able to live with yourself if someone saw you like this. Would you have to appear in front of the dean to apologize that your boyfriend had fingered you in front of a captive audience? Would there be paperwork? Would any of the blame fall on Kunikuzushi, or would you be the one held responsible for what he couldn’t stop doing to you?

You shook your head frantically, clenching your eyes shut and balling your hands into fists. Kunikuzushi clicked his tongue, cooing in mock-disappointment. “That’s just mean, baby. First you don’t want to admit we’re in love, now you don’t even want to be seen with me. Next, you’ll want to forget I exist altogether.” He flicked his wrist, and you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek. “And you remember how well it went for you last time you tried to ditch me, right?”

It was a labored effort, jerky and jolting, but you forced yourself to inhale, to straighten your back, to curl your hands around the corner of the desktop and make a passing effort to ground yourself, but Kunikuzushi wouldn’t let you have your peace for very long. You let out a small sigh as he pulled back, but your relief was short-lived – ripped away from you the moment his fingers found your waistband, slipping into your shorts before you could so much as delusionally hope he'd show you mercy. There was a breathy laugh, two fingers pressed into your clit. “Christ, you’re soaked,” he muttered, his delight audible. “I still can’t believe I turned you into such a fucking slut.”

You tried to shrink into yourself, to cross your arms over the desktop and hide your face, but Kunikuzushi caught you, keeping you upright and leaving you to bury your face in his shoulder. The desk would’ve been more soothing. He was moving too quickly, his arm shifting uncomfortably against your chest as he rubbed tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves, as he fell lower – his ring and middle fingers dipping into your drenched pussy in quick, shallow thrusts that only seemed to make you more aware of the slick starting to drip down the inside of your thighs. Your professor was still talking, but the lecture was incomprehensible, drowned out by the wet squelching of Kunikuzushi’s digits thrusting into you, somehow barely audible and skull-crushing deafening all at once. No one else could hear it. It just wasn’t an option; it wasn’t a possibility. You couldn’t let yourself start to think about what would happen if someone else heard it.  

He was merciless, grinding the heel of his palm into your clit as his slender fingers pumped into you. He didn’t pause, didn’t experiment, just held himself to the same monotonous, uniform thrusts, punishing you with a brutal pleasure you just couldn’t seem to escape. His fingertips scraped against something soft and needy inside of you and reflexively, your hands shot to his arm, your nails burrowing into his sleeves and biting into his skin. If he felt it, he didn’t seem hurt. Kunikuzushi only laughed, resting his head against yours and falling into a brutal, unfaltering tempo.

Distantly, you heard paper sliding against wood, pages turning, then a low whistle. “Why didn’t you tell me you could draw?” If you’d been able to think, you might’ve been angry. If you’d been able to do anything, you might’ve pulled your notebook away from him and made sure he couldn’t taint any part of you he hadn’t already ruined, but you couldn’t so much as imagine opening your eyes, much less trying to get away from him, again. “It’s cute. If you’re good, I’ll get you a real sketchbook – better than this cheap shit.”

It shouldn’t have felt as patronizing as it was. It shouldn’t have stung, just to know he was looking at something you’d never thought to keep away from him. It shouldn’t have hurt any more than anything he was already doing to you, and yet, you shrunk into yourself, something in your chest withering and dying off as he continued to flip through your notebook, to split you open on his fingers. A third digit was added, his touch now deep enough for you to feel the chill of his rings against your entrance. There was a pang of tension, a slight pain to accompany the stretch, but the buzzing in the back of your mind, the knot pulling tighter and tighter as he pulled his way deeper into you. You curled around him, something hot and piercing rising up from your core, creeping into your veins until—

Until Kunikuzushi pulled away without warning, only pausing momentarily to drag his hand over your thigh and smear your own slick across your skin. If you hadn’t known him so well, if you hadn’t been with him so long, relief might’ve softened your confusion, but you weren’t naïve enough to think that he’d suddenly found a pocket of kindness in his cold, stony heart. He didn’t try to tease you, either, to string you along and make you think that he’d let you go with an anti-climax and a few probing comments. He was cruel, but he didn’t like to waste his time. He didn’t have to pretend he didn’t want to play with his favorite toy.

With a small smile and a darkglint in his eye, he took your notebook and achinglyslowly, slid it off of the desk and watched passively as it toppled to the floor. Seconds after it landed, he sighed, shaking his head before pressing a fleeting kiss into the corner of your mouth. “You’re so clumsy, babe. I just don’t know what you’d do without me.”

Realization dawned on you like blood rising into the back of your throat. You hugged his arm closer to your chest, hoping beyond hope that he’d see your distress and for once, hold himself back from taking what he wanted. “Kuni, please don’t do—”

“Save it.” He didn’t even hesitate, tearing his arm out of your vice-grip without so much as a trace of strain. “You can thank me when we get home.”

You didn’t get another chance to protest before he dipped down, slipping out of his seat and below the desk. You spared a glance in either direction. You were in an aisle seat. Your row was mostly empty, and you could only hope that the people sitting behind you couldn’t see Kunikuzushi between your legs, his mouth already pressed into the inside of your thigh. Without someone to hold onto, you were left to cross your arms over your chest and try to school your own expression, to look like you hadn’t just had your orgasm torn away from you, like your ex-turned-overly-attached boyfriend wasn’t on his knees with his face buried between your legs. It was a small comfort, knowing he couldn’t do anything worse than this, not unless he wanted to bend you over the teacher’s desk and fuck you with an audience.

It was terrifying, knowing he couldn’t possibly do anything worse than this.

Your breath hitched as you felt his fingers curl underneath your shorts, dragging the flimsy material down your legs and letting it pool around your ankles. You were wearing an oversized shirt, and your jacket was long enough to obscure everything above your mid-thigh, but you still shuddered, still had to fight the temptation to snap your thighs shut as soon as you felt the cool air against your slick cunt. Kunikuzushi was quick to block that out, too. You felt the flat of his tongue lap over your entrance, a soundless moan reverberating against your pussy and up the length of your spine. This time, when you bit down on the inside of your cheek, you didn’t stop until you tasted blood.

Now, now, he decided to draw out your agony. You could feel his searing breath against your pussy as he chewed bruises into your thighs, painting love bites across your vulnerable skin that you could only hope wouldn’t be visible when you were finally able to shamble out of this lecture hall as a mangled, fucked-out wreck. When your legs twitched, his hands found their way to your ankles, pinning your feet to the ground as he latched onto your clit, dragging his tongue in loose, careless patterns as he sucked gently – giving you enough stimulation to leave you irritated and antsy but still withholding any anything real, anything satisfying. If you’d been in his bed, or on his kitchen counter, or laid across the backseat of the car he barely knew how to drive, you could’ve hidden your face in his sheets or clawed at his shoulders or screamed bloody murderer while he sucked and licked himself into a pussy-drunk stupor. You were never overly vocal – you couldn’t be, when you knew Kunikuzushi would take and abuse anything you said under the influence of his harsh affection– but now, you couldn’t afford to so much as tear-up, to rake your fingers through his hair, to whimper as his tongue thrust into you, just as awful as his fingers and twice as hot. You made the mistake of glancing towards him, of letting him catch your eye as a wide, arrogant smirk spread across his parted lips, a dark flush now painted across his pale cheeks. You looked away as quickly as you could, but it didn’t matter. His hands came up to your knees as he dragged your legs apart, giving himself more space to work between them. That had to be the worst thing about Kunikuzushi. No matter what you did, no matter how little you gave him, he’d always find a way to get off on it, to convince himself it was just your little way of retuning his fucked-up love.

Desperate for something to latch onto, you crossed your arms over the desktop and clawed at the polished wood. The bridge of Kunikuzushi’s nose ground against your clit and you buckled into yourself, burying your face in your arms and forgetting for just a fraction of a second to care whether or not you’d ever be able to show your face in public again. It took long, agonizing seconds to find the strength to raise your head, to frantically glance around the lecture hall for something, anything that would help you block out what he was doing to your body. Rather than a saving grace, you found a head of bright, ginger hair a few rows in front of you, the chair next to its owner vacant. Ajax, already staring over his shoulder, his piercing eyes wide and his expression blank with horror. As your gaze met his, as Kunikuzushi let out another throaty moan, the pressure mounted, that string of tension in your core snapping before you could attempt to hold yourself together. With your teeth grit and tears streaming down your cheeks, you came undone on Kunikuzushi’s tongue, a breathless whine forcing its way out of your throat as you collapsed back into your arms, completely limp.

Kunikuzushi nursed you through it, taking long moments to untangle himself from you, to press another kiss against your thigh, to pull your shorts back into place. You didn’t care. You were numb, your body humming with an awful sort of static, only interrupted by the weight of Kunikuzushi’s hand against the small of your back as he hauled himself back into his seat, pulling his sleeve across his mouth. Your notebook was still at your feet, splayed open and abandoned. You couldn’t seem to bring yourself to pick it up.

There was a kiss to your shoulder, then the top of your head. “Is it time to get out of here?”

You forced yourself to nod. You felt his arms wrap around you, one stringing under your knees and the other bracing against your back, keeping you pressed into his chest as he side-stepped back into the aisle and started for the door. A few students turned their heads, a couple stopping to ask if you were alright, but Kunikuzushi ignored them. Whatever. It wasn’t like you’d ever see any of these people again.

Kunikuzushi was taking you home, and as far as he seemed concerned, you’d never be leaving again.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Is that bad, maybe? That he’s this glad about Lynn being easy for him to like? He’s gonna take care of him the best he can no matter what, just . . . it helps, a little, that Lynn’s this easy to like. Makes it feel less . . . intimidating, maybe. 

Billy likes a lot of people, technically. He likes most of the other League members, and he likes a lot of people he’s met on the street, and he even liked a few of the kids he met in foster care, and obviously he’s always liked Tawky, but . . . 

But it wasn’t really easy to like most of those people, he has to admit. Not after . . . everything. 

He tries. He really tries. But it’s just–not always easy. And he knows it won’t be easy all the time with Lynn either, but . . . 

But it’s nice, just meeting somebody he likes right away. 

“Okay,” Billy says, glancing reflexively towards the windows even though he already knows what the weather’s like. They were just outside, after all, and even if they hadn’t been, the windows are big enough to make it hard to miss either way. “It is a good day for a walk, if you don’t mind another one.” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, just a little hesitant again. “Um. It’s . . . okay? To be . . . out that much?” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, wondering where he can even get as much lighter fluid as he’s gonna need to burn down a whole fifty-two levels of underground lab. That might be hard, kinda. Batman would probably wanna know why he’d bought that much, is all. Like, he’d definitely at least ask. Maybe Billy can figure out how ATMs work and just pay for it all in cash, though. That’s an option, anyway. Like, for plausible deniability and whatever. “You can be out as much as–okay, um, not all the time, but mostly as much as you want. Like, if it’s not bedtime or after curfew or anything like that. And, um, please take your phone when you’re out. Definitely take your phone when you’re out. No offense, just you’re still really little and you just got out of the lab, and I don’t want you to get lost or in trouble and not be able to get ahold of me if you need something, you know?” 

“You’d let me go out unsupervised,” Lynn says. It doesn’t really sound like a question, but . . . well, it still kind of sounds like a question. “And if I got in . . . trouble, you’d . . .” 

“I’d come get you,” Billy says immediately. “Or answer your questions or whatever. Whatever you needed.” 

“. . . okay,” Lynn says, shifting his weight a little. Billy wouldn’t really notice, except mostly Lynn doesn’t shift his weight like that. He’s really, really still, actually, and takes up as little space as possible for a kid his size. 

Billy wonders exactly how big that pod actually was, come to think. 

That’s . . . kinda depressing, as a thought. Thought maybe for Lynn it just felt, like . . . like being swaddled, or something? Babies like that, right? Well–he’s overheard people talking about that before, and the wisdom of Solomon seems to agree, so . . . maybe it felt like that, for Lynn. Like, safe and secure and–

Oh. Is that why he was in the closet for so long earlier? 

. . . Billy’s not sure if that’s depressing either. Well–not if it makes Lynn feel better, obviously, and if it is kind of the same idea as being swaddled, he’ll just grow out of it anyway, right? 

Billy definitely needs parenting books. Like–ones for teenagers and newborns.

“Do you wanna go now, or wait like twenty minutes for lunch to settle?” he asks. Little choices, he figures. So Lynn doesn’t get overwhelmed with a whole bunch of them or anything. Also, he still doesn’t know if Lynn did accidentally overeat, so just in case . . . 

“Um,” Lynn says, a brief flash of hesitance flickering across his face. “I–don’t know.” 

“Okay,” Billy says. Still better than a definitive answer that isn’t true, he figures. Like–way, way better. Like–the honest answer is always better, as far as he’s concerned, at least in this kind of situation. 

Lying to supervillains and bad guys is morally and ethically okay, like, eighty percent of the time at least. 

“Spit the difference and wait ten?” he suggests, and Lynn pauses for a moment, and then just shrugs. 

Again: still better than a definitive answer that isn’t true, so Billy’ll work with it. 

“Ten minutes, then,” he says, and then doesn't really know what to do with himself so just . . . goes and sits down on the couch again. They can maybe just talk a bit, he figures. They already had the “no” conversation, and that'll probably need to come up again because it's hard to change behaviors like that, but for now they can just talk about lighter stuff. Small talk or something. He doesn’t wanna overwhelm Lynn with a ton of serious stuff or complicated conversations all in one day. They’ve just met, and Lynn is so young. It’s just, like–weird, if he does that. Like, expecting way too much. Especially after Cadmus force-grew him and stuffed years worth of information into his head all at once. 

Billy thinks it’s fair to give Lynn a break, after that. More than fair. 

Lynn looks at his shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. Billy isn’t worried about it, but notices it. It’s not very subtle, is all. 

“Do you know what kind of books you like?” he says. “Or–well, stories, I guess. Or nonfiction. Or, uh . . . subjects, maybe. Maybe that’d be better. I just dunno how many stories Cadmus told you or if you even like stories, so . . .” 

“Cadmus didn’t tell me stories,” Lynn says. Billy . . . pauses.

[matan4il]

911 ep 704 first watch reactions

IDK if anyone else will talk about this, but Josh and Maddie were a great comedic start to this ep! XD Also. Interesting choice to give Josh, the currently only openly gay male character on the show, more lines again. Is it a reminder he's there, so he can be a part of Buck's journey later on? *eyes emoji* We'll see.

All of these pretty women (I should also mention that as a non-American, all the gasped, "It's Joey!" "It's you!" "It's me!" are missing me by a kilometer. Whoever Joey is, he's not Madonna yet, if you want me to get excited about him, 911, you're gonna have to give me a bit more than a single name), hitting on Buck and Eddie, and the ease with which both men turn them down... Sure, this is a part of the set up regarding Buck, and Eddie technically has an excuse, but also. Most straight, taken men would at least be tempted. They'd at least bite their lips with frustration. Have some reaction. But not Eddie. And when you remember that he was distinctly not taken in ep 204, but still had the same reaction to pretty young women hitting on him and Buck... I know this ep is all about celebrating the 'oh' moment of another guy, but that's not gonna stop me from rooting for Eddie to have similar realizations eventually (and get together with that certain other guy *cough*).

LMAO So, Buck is meeting up with the guy who's gonna be his sexual awakening, a man who's good looking, gave him a thrill already, is an impressive fighter pilot, and the first thing he can think of to say, is blurt out Eddie's name? LMAO Oh, this boy really is down bad...

Man, that bit where Tommy tells Buck he can have it both ways, he can get certified and continue to serve with the 118. Thanks for the beautiful foreshadowing, 911. Buck saying he's keeping his options fluid... Holy shit, the show really wasn't holding any punches back.

OMG, why is Harry old enough to be making Bathena waffles (and then turn out to be involved in an altercation)? I swear, he was still on baby formula just a second ago. How did 7 seasons just fly by!?

Buck getting jealous over Eddie and Tommy sparring. Considering the fact that Buck was the one getting all hot and bothered over semi-naked Eddie in the gym in 201, and ready to jump into a boxing match with him, this is making me wanna punch a wall myself. The symbolism in this ep is NOT very veiled. Add to that Eddie mentioning how he and Tommy met and just... clicked. In the same conversation that reminds us of Buddie' in 201's first meeting, where they clicked? (even though they were both too dumb to realize in what way) 911, just let me catch my breath for a second challenge! Also, Eddie is dating Tommy more intensely than he is Marisol? Okay. Duly noted. These firefighters are both so freaking hetero, I'm sure that's exactly what every casual viewer was telling themselves at this point. And poor Buck, getting his hopes up that Eddie is asking him when he's free, so they can go on a date themselves, only to be let down. Poor baby boy. But this feels like it's spelling out the answer to whether Buck's jealous over Tommy or Eddie. So, yay for Tommy helping him with his bi awakening. But it's clear who's really occupying Buck's heart and mind, and whose time he wants. FOR SIX FREAKING SEASONS NOW.

Oh, it's continuing, the show really is trying to kill me, having Buck complain to Maddie about how often Eddie has been seeing Tommy. The annoyance with how cool Tommy is, that's exactly Buck's reaction to Eddie in 201. So, if Buck and Tommy will then kiss, what does that say about what Buck didn't even realize he wanted to happen with Eddie back then, hmmm? I also love that Buck wants to be the cooler "dad's friend" in Christopher's eyes. That's his son, you can't take that away from him. And of course, Maddie was his first confidante about his feels for Eddie, she was the first one to call out his boy crush (in 204) and to hear Buck automatically think about Eddie, when he hears, "He's cute!" (in 206). It's so freaking right that she is now the witness to Buck's bi jealousy meltdown. I love her calling him out on it. "Is it circled with a heart around it?" Honestly, this is better than front row seats at the Bachelor mansion. I'm just disappointed in Chimney and his imaginary popcorn that he doesn't get to witness all of this firsthand and get what it means. Letting down all Bachelor fans out there, Chim. -_-

And then Buck's back in the gym, staring at Eddie, feathers ruffled. Am I going to make it to the end of this ep? Who cares? This is fantastic! XD He tries to catch Eddie's attention with the little weightlifting without a spotter stunt, and it's specifically him. Chim turned out to also be impressed by how cool Tommy is, but Buck is circling Eddie, like a clueless Jane Austen heroine, about to become a hit teen romance movie. Ravi falling for Buck's weightlifting attention trap is just getting in the way. Chim asking about Buck's weird basketball hugging session is nothing but a way to get to the ball game with Eddie. Okay, I'm at the point where I need to be chewing on imaginary popcorn.

Athena is one of the strongest characters on television, ever. Precisely because she's not just tough when she has to be, she has a heart, too. The scene where she told the woman she accidentally killed her own son was hard to just watch. IDK how she actually did that. I'm not sure if viewers who aren't moms get it, 'coz I didn't until I went with my sister through her pregnancy. Motherhood changes you forever. You feel your kid moving inside you. You bond with them in the most intimate way possible before they're even born. You go on a wild journey with them after, where every second counts, let alone every hour and every day, when they're hungry, when they're cold, when they struggle to sleep, when they finally do, when they take their first step, when they fail and fall... The love and protectiveness are something different to anything else in life. IDK how Athena, who gets all of this, managed to break the news to this mother, that she had unknowingly killed her own kid. I think to me, this has to be the most devastating scene in the entire history of the show. IDK if I'll be able to watch it again.

When basketball game scene starts, and Chimney knows something's up, I was already chuckling. But then Eddie sees them, and the first thing isn't expressing joy that his best friend is there, it's asking how did Chim talk him into this. "He always says no to me." They BOTH always talk about each other in romantic coded language, it's not just Buck, and in the same ep where we get bi Buck confirmed, that makes me froth at the mouth...

"So I'm your basketball beard. I feel so bonded." Not Chimney calling Buck out, while using the term for closeted gay guys using someone as a cover. I AM SCREAMING. Thank you, 911 gods!

That montage with Eddie and Tommy high fiving each other right in front of Buck's salad face, while their muscles glisten in the sun, and Top Gun-like music plays in the background, like the biggest nod to the volleyball scene from that gayest movie ever made, which we already had Buddie paraphrasing in 201. I am fine, this is fine. I love this burning kitchen I'm sitting in.

Buck causing Eddie's injury because of his jealousy (which again, is not about Tommy. He made an impression on Chim as well, who was screaming, "Buck, I'm open! I'm OPEN!") and not even getting to offer some help, because Tommy's already on it... I hope ABC is happy with their viewership dropping next week, because they've killed every Buddie shipper in the fandom.

"Well, I'm not a 14 year old girl..." Both Buck and Maddie together: "So stop acting like one." Love this scene, love these siblings, love that the reference with the two blonde Sarahs sounds platonic, but it's also from a past season on the Bachelor. 911 really wants you to know this is romantic, and Buck's going through a late sexual awakening in his 30's, instead of in his teens, even before he's able to see it.

So, the conclusion to Buck and Maddie's convo is that he needs to talk to Eddie, to make it better, yet the person he ends up talking to is Tommy, and that leads to the bi awakening kiss... It's a classic rom com switch, we hear a knock at the door, we expect it to be THE love interest, showing up at the right time, and it's someone else, making the protagonist's romantic journey so close, but about to get longer. It's further emphasized by a shot over Tommy's shoulder, in a way that he can easily be confused for Eddie, and which is reminiscent of moment when we saw Buck standing at Eddie's door, or both of them there toegther.

It was a nice talk, I loved Tommy saying he can't replace Buck, I def noticed how he went to talk about it in the context of Chris instead of Eddie (hmmm... I wonder why), but my fave part was how Buck glowed when he heard his son doesn't shut up about him. ^u^ He even took a second to look away from Tommy, to take it in with a huge grin. Then Buck and Tommy start warming up to each other, moving towards flirtation, and what comes out of Buck's mouth? "You don't have to tell me how great Eddie is." That's not how you flirt with a guy, Buck. I liked Tommy kissing him, and Buck not recoiling. Like he's always known on some level, but could never do anything about it. "That's better than fake mouth static." LOL The stuff that great romance is made of.

I'm SO happy Buck is getting this storyline of realization he's bi, I've thought it would be important and that the show has laid some groundwork for it since 107, and I don't mind that Tommy is the "romantic other" who helps him with it. I do believe this is important bi representation in and of itself, away from Buddie, and if nothing else ever comes of it, this is still beyond wonderful. In 2024, we still barely have any characters who start out presumed straight, and are allowed the freedom to figure out that maybe their sexual orientation is different than what they thought, despite the fact that in reality, human sexuality is complex and confusing and a mess. So this really matters to me, as a human being, and as a queer person. That said, I can't ignore the past 5 seasons, and the way this storyline played out, with Tommy kissing Buck, but the whole thing being emotionally centered around Buck's feelings for Eddie, it means that whether they go canon or not (and at this point, I find it hard to believe they'd make Buck canonically bi, taking this HUGE risk of homophobic backlash, and not go there with him and Eddie, but just in case they don't, I wanna say this), it'll always be Buddie for me.

Thank you for reading! If you're looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

[goldsainz]

THEY BROKE UP? — one shot.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: i’m a sucker for angst😁 i don’t know why i felt so inspired, i have never been in a relationship. or what drove me to write that article, which i didn’t spend as much time on as you would think, i guess i was inspired. please enjoy this, happy danny ric grand prix (not anymore😐)!!! this is my longest social media piece to date (templates by @mybodywakesup)

liked by tchalamet, jennaortega and 2,047,159 others

yourusername my EP “FWD” is out in all streaming platforms! this EP comes from a very deep, personal and heartfelt place. many nights of non-stop writing led to me putting out 4 songs i never would’ve released months ago. thank you for giving me time to come back as the best version of myself.

view all 30,707 comments

selenagomez I am so happy you released this! The world needs to see all of your talent shine ❤️

⤷ yourusername thank you for being there sel 🫶

ynfan1 I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR HOW HEARTBREAKING THIS WOULD BE

ynfan2 oh so we’re back to making us cry

dannielfan1 things i wish you said is so about daniel

user1 after 9 months of no content she just puts out four songs?

⤷ ynfan3 please read her newest vogue article before commenting things like this

alexademie i’m in love with you?

⤷ yourusername i’m in love with you too?

ynfan3 LONESOME BEST SONG!!!!!

When I got the call that Y/N Y/L/N wanted to do the article with Vogue, and that I was appointed as the writer I remember thinking ‘What will I say?’. There isn’t much to prepare you when a celebrity like her decides she wants you in her home, opening up about her hardships with you there to listen and write it all down. But, alas, I put my nerves beside me and took all of the questions the world wanted answers to, to the only woman who could answer them. 

Her house in the English countryside is just as perfect as you would expect. With dark mahogany floors, potted plants everywhere and white walls that are filled with different memories she framed, Y/L/N’s home is made for those who love the feeling of being at home. It brims with a cosy feeling, from the rugs she picked which bring an unexpected, yet welcome, warmth, to the open space that shows off her beautiful backyard. Y/L/N’s house is nothing short of exceptional. If each room were to speak to me they would all rave about how comfortable they feel, how there is no other that feel like a ‘home’ quite like theirs.

The moment I arrived at her front door, she was the one to open the door and greet me with a hug. There was no one but us at her house, nothing but the comfortable silence and the occasional chirping of a bird. Her outfit was casual, with some Stella McCartney jeans, a Prada silk blouse which she wears with the top 3 buttons open, and a pair of Hermes sandals, it all made her look relaxed whilst still looking polished. She offered me a single-couch to sit down on, offering me different options of beverages she proudly concocted. I opted for a refreshing blueberry lemonade, while she had an already drunk, half-full glass of orange juice. 

After what seemed like forever without her presence on red carpets, premieres or her famous F1 paddock appearances, Y/N Y/L/N created an enjoyable life for herself. She admits that even though there have been many hardships, she has pushed through them as best as she can. “Sometimes you just have to take a break, take a moment to look around and wonder what you really need.” She expresses, “This life isn't for everyone. I am very happy with how things turned out for me, and there is not one day I regret what I’ve done. But, there are moments in which things get out of control and space is needed.”

On the outside, Y/L/N has always appeared to the masses as someone who never falters in her step. From her modelling debut when she was freshly 18 years old, turning herself into the face of Prada back in 2012 when the whole world wondered ‘Just who is this girl?’. It wasn't long before she delved into the acting world, with her first role in 2014 for the critically acclaimed film ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’ as ‘Agatha’. Everyone loved her, wondering what her next move would be, so the whole world was shaken when just a year later she released an album. ‘Honeymoon’ took the world by a storm, with emotional lyrics that only added to the mystery of who she was, Pitchfork said “It's an album about love, but "love", as Y/L/N sings it, sounds like mourning. The romance here is closer to addiction—something that's sought for its ability to blot out the rest of life's miseries…”. Nobody knows who drove her to write this, but the speculations never stopped, not to this day. On the inside, however, she struggled to know who she really was.

She talks about not having the right skills to cope with the sudden fame, how overwhelming it all would really be. Still, she never stopped putting out new content for her fans. Nobody could forget the girl who despite all the luxury that surrounded her, uploaded vlogs to youtube about her life. No one could take away her raw authenticity.

Maybe that is why when in May of 2022 her posts on Instagram, Twitter and Youtube came to a sudden halt, fans wondered what happened to her. What made Y/N Y/L/N drop from the face of the earth? Why did she stop appearing everywhere? 

The talk never ceased, the world could not let go of the woman they had grown up with and learned to love over a decade ago. “It was weird seeing all those rumours while I battled to know who I was. I tried as hard as I could to drown it all out, so I uninstalled every single social media app I had. I ended my connection with the world to reconnect with myself.” She says. “It was hard, but it was truly what I had wanted for a while.”

Since she appeared in the spotlight, her relationships or lack of, has been questioned. “I watched my female peers struggle to get away from their love lives, how every interviewer didn't care for the projects they were in, but rather who they were with at the time.” She recalls. “I was in a relationship with who I thought was the love of my life, for almost 7 years. It is rather jarring coming to terms that sometimes people grow, and that you are the one that needs out of a relationship which is nothing short of special. My concept of love was tarnished by a guy who was older than me, and another guy who was just as immature as I was. So naturally, I was swept off my feet when suddenly, all I ever knew wasn't how I thought it was.” 

Even now, after the heartbreaking experience she went through, Y/L/N only has kind words to say about the man she loved. “He is a true gentleman, he knew me like no one else did. I guess, along the way, I stopped knowing myself. That was the problem.” She says. “How can someone else know me when I don't even know myself? I asked myself that a lot. I like to think I know myself better now, I learned how to love every part of me, and that was the most rewarding journey. It wasn’t his fault, but I couldn't love someone else without loving me first.”

Self Love is a very important part of her life now. She puts her well-being over her need to succeed, something that made her iconic, was destroying her slowly. “Being an ‘icon’ to many stuck me in a box. There was an underlying feeling of having to always outperform others and myself, it was exhausting and that was how I started losing sight of myself.”

When talking about her future projects, Y/L/N expressed that she was “taking her time”. No more would she be walked over and feel pressured to put out new content, opting for a more relaxed and controlled lifestyle. Though she once was everywhere everyday, she now hopes to be mentioned when she does something valuable and not when she is merely existing. 

“I do have an EP coming out. It is just four songs, but I wrote them alone, and they are my most special songs to date.” She says. “One thing I do not want happening is for people I care for to be harassed or accused of things they are not responsible for. Music is a creative outlet for me, it is never made with the intention to hurt anyone.” She adds. “‘things i wish you said’ is my favourite. It’s the first one I wrote after my breakup, which makes it the rawest out of all of them. I think that's why I like it so much, the other three were written in different periods of my life, some even years ago. It will be fun seeing everyone dissect them.”

She decided to keep the EP to just four songs because all the others were too personal or she decided to keep them for another time. “I’m sure the world would love to know all the nooks and crannies of my past relationship, but that is something I would like to keep between him and me. I am ready to move on from all the pain, to leave it all in the past. If people want to remain stuck there, that is their own choice, I choose to be free and continue growing.”

Y/L/N’s journey is far from finished. She has not even turned 30 yet, but she redirects her narrative because it just does not fit her anymore. She is not that young 18 year-old girl who knows nothing, but rather a 28 year-old woman “ready to move on” as she puts it. 

At that point in our conversation, her previously relaxed demeanour has only grown. With her legs tucked on the black leather couch she has in her wide living room, an arm resting on a deep magenta pillow, she is in her own space. Y/L/N smiles and pays attention to every question I ask, she has no qualms in sharing. Though she sometimes opted to give no comment about certain situations, not once did she feel offended or made me feel out of place. 

As our conversation came to an end, she gave me one final piece of advice: “Only you can decide what's best for you. Once you learn how to manage other people’s opinions, there is nothing that can truly stop you from being uniquely you. Love yourself, you have one life, why live it in misery?”

liked by ynfan21, danielfan21 and 103,859 others

yndanielenthusiast i will never forget when they both posted the same picture to hard launch their relationship

view all 1,558 comments

ynfan22 what if this was my 13th reason?

ynfan23 we all remember where we were when this dropped

⤷ danielfan22 i woke from a nap, checked instagram and screamed so loud my parents thought someone died

⤷ ynfan23 so real

user21 missing them hours

ynfan24 nothing could’ve prepared for y/n confirming their breakup. nothing.

danielfan23 I NEED THEM BACK

⤷ ynfan25 THOSE TWO WERE LITERALLY MY PARENTS

liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 462,071 others

danielricciardo Don’t leave me hangin 🙃

view all 6,931 comments

ynfan31 y/n liking this😭

danielfan31 IM SO HAPPY HES HAPPY WITH RBR

ynfan32 say what you want abt y/n (don’t) but she’s handling the situation very maturely

danielfan32 he’s smiling while we’re all in shambles smh

⤷ danielfan33 right???

user31 I need him back on track asap

user32 am i delusional to think the caption means something else or…

⤷ ynfan33 yes.

⤷ danielfan34 yes.

liked by danielricciardo, taylorswift and 1,925,836 others

yourusername many things to come 🥂

view all 28,887 comments

ynfan41 istg if she says an album is coming

⤷ ynfan42 it would be crazy but i don’t think so

zendaya cheers to that!

liked by yourusername

user41 her smile <3

danielfan41 ariana what r u doing here🤨

taylorswift 🍾🍾🍾

⤷ ynfan43 I’M SCARED WHAT’S GOING ON

ynfan44 she has something cooking and i am not prepared

[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

part 2

Fate decided to play a little game and set up a disastrous dinner. Pulling heatwaves back and forth to prove that the path to hell is paved by good intentions.

warning: non-linear time line

21:10

"I'm sorry, but do you guys know each other?" she asked, with a tone of annoyance barely hidden behind a fake smile.

Lando froze once again, like he had many times that evening. It was not his fault. His soon-to-not-be girlfriend set this seventh circle of hell up. How was he supposed to respond to that?

Y/N hesitantly responded. "No, of course not. I mean, I've only worked with the team here for few weeks anyway."

Her words got buried in the stare down between Anita and Lando.

"Seems like you do, by the amount of questions you're asking" she said directly at Lando, fully ignoring Y/N at that point.

"If I had known her, I would not have had to ask questions, right?" he responded, failing at letting his sassy side dormant.

"Is that why you never ask me any questions? Because you know me?"

He bit his tongue. Lando was trying to be good.

Anita made her signature "I knew it" smile once again, which finally set Lando off.

"One asks when they want to hear an answer."

20:13

He was not late, right? Only thirteen minutes. It still passed. And judging by the quick glance he gave at the table, Anita brought a friend. She does that often, he had no idea why.

Sometimes he felt like a ghost watching his own life. Just sort of floating around, letting things happen to him. It was easy with his status. Almost like racing was the only time he really cared.

As he walked over to the table, lost in his own head, life gave him a pretty big slap to wake him up. Next to Anita sat the one and only, the one who had haunted his dreams and reality for decades by now. Frozen, as if his blood suddenly decided to start flowing in the opposite direction, he blinked as he watched the two share a laugh while Anita showed something to the girl on her phone. Seamlessly, as if they weren't defying the laws of Lando's universe. It was like that one time when two girls he kissed around the same time found him, having no idea what he had done with the other. Strange panic, excitement laced with guilt. It was that, dialed up to infinity.

A day had barely passed since he first saw the mystery girl in real time. Without giving him any time to absorb that information and decide what to do with it. He was getting angry, everything was going wrong. The painful truth hit him - he would fuck it up anyway. Like he always does. Feeling like a dried piece of fruit, he got back to walking over to the table of doomed dreams.

He had no plan going in. Well, no, he did. But he had about five plans that strongly contradicted each other. But god, destiny did not even give him time to breathe.

12:29

Another car flashed unbelievably fast right next to their station. She watched them with awe and slight terror in her eyes. Funny how the desire for a little thrill in the driver's lives makes them willing to risk it all. She understood this desire, but never shared it. Safe and sound on the ground, that's where she was happy.

Happy was probably overreaching. These past few days were flowing in a blur, somewhat missing her.

It's been only a few weeks since she joined the formula medical team. A strange choice frowned upon by almost anyone in her life. She was just out of school, finished her degree and was set up for a perfect career in some decent hospital. But no, the prospect of waking up everyday at the same place was the definition of horror for her. Her university years felt like torture.

Her free spirit caused few issues in her past relationship. House with a picket fence was not something she considered an option. At least not for another ten years or so.

There she was, sarcastic as ever because how else are you supposed to deal with a chronic pain. Well, pain was an exaggeration. More like muscle fatigue, on occasion sharp pains in random places. Nobody knew why or what caused it. This search for answers was what got her to study medicine at the first place. Still, years after, no answers. So she just lived and hoped not to die randomly one day.

This was the downside, the one she shared with the public. What she did not share, as it seemed not that important, was the irregular waves of pleasure she felt, usually late at night. Self induced orgasms, is what she concluded once she finally experienced one in real life. What was there to complain about? Nice way of spicing up the day without even trying. If it weren't for these, she'd probably be more active in seeking out the real deal. Ever since her break up few months ago, it was a full on dry spell.

She was a little bit lost after school. Formula track was an interesting distraction.

/

Heatwave. It hit hard as the sun blazed into the track, as if the goal was to burn the whole area down. There were many instances of people crashing down and having seek medical attention. A busy day for Y/N. She loved it. Rushing around like a busy bee, helping around and chatting with all those interesting people attending the race. Lots of beautiful people. Some extraordinarily.

In front of Y/N was one of those heavenly looking people. Apparently a girlfriend of one of the drivers. Cheerful looking model, who apologized about seven times for being there. Y/N gave her some magnesium, gave her some advice on how much water she should drink and checked her basic stats.

"You're all good. Make to sure to relax, don't drink any alcohol today and you'll be fine," Y/N ended her examination with a smile.

"You're amazing, thank you! Can I snap a photo of you for my story? I'm happy to tag you," she winked, suddenly looking all better now.

"Thank you...Um, happy to take a photo, but no tags. I have enough stalkers already," she tried to get out of the slightly awkward conversation with a joke that did not land.

"I do too, awful, right?" she replied, in full seriousness. Y/N smiled, hoping a new patient would arrive soon while she let her search for the right light. Few too many snaps and fake smiles later, they both sat in the ambulance nearby the track.

"I think you're free to go. Of course, stay here as long as you feel like you need to," Y/N said to her, while filling a general medical report.

The girl shifted, looking more than fine again. In the corner of the eye, Y/N observed how she kept shifting and looking for her phone.

"Is everything all right?" Y/N asked, unable to stop herself.

"Um, I was sort of hoping my boyfriend would come to pick me up here. It would look really good."

Y/N smiled. "I imagine it would also feel good, right?"

"Yeah," she said, not in a tone that would suggest she felt any butterflies. She looked stiff.

Y/N took a deep breath, not sure why her mouth let those words out. "Whatever happens in the ambulance, stays in the ambulance, you know? Just throwing it out there in case you want to share something..."

A weak smile appeared on her face. A glimpse of realness. After few moments of obviously thinking it through, she allowed herself to speak freely. "Promise you won't tell anything to anyone..."

"I swore an oath one time, I think we can apply that to this situation." The medics were always told to provide excellent service to these people. Sometimes, it involved a little psychology as well.

Anita poured it out like an overflowing mug. "I'd love to be with someone who would drop anything to pick me up when I'm sitting in an ambulance. But, I feel like that's not coming anytime soon. He just...He just does not see me."

It was easy for most people to get raw in the closed safe space of an ambulance. Y/N had already heard many similar stories, despite being on this job for only few weeks.

"Does he make you happy?"

"Um...Not really. The sex is good. And the life that comes with him..." she seemed to loose herself in her thoughts.

"You should trust your gut. It's probably pointing you in the right direction," Y/N replied, trying to not push anything.

"You're probably right. He's the best thing around here, so why complain. Thanks! You're really the best. You sure you don't want to be tagged?" she asked once again.

"Sure, go for it," she said, hoping this would finally get the girl out and gave her the instagram info.

She felt an immense wave of embarrassment as she read the comment about how amazing she was.

//

Lando felt a very familiar stroke of humiliation - well, he did not, but he knew who did anyway. Anxiety was not uncommon.

He was done with practice for the day and was staying behind with the engineers to further analyse. He ignored his phone for a while, only finding out his girlfriend had to go to the medics after she came back to the McLaren garage.

His first thought should have probably not been about a wasted opportunity.

"Hey, sweetheart, how do you feel now?" he said while holding Anita's hand and trying to find traces of her feeling unwell on her face.

She felt a bittersweet punch, obviously him checking up on her while she was gone not passing through his mind.

"Yeah, all good now. We have some good medics over here. I took a photo of them, so hopefully they'll get some boost online."

"Oh, can I have a look?" he said with an obvious interest. She smiled, hoping it was because he cared about her. She gave him her phone and saw him freeze for a moment.

Out of nowhere, he was staring into the eyes he longed to drown in. He never got a look this close at her. Not his girlfriend. The awkward smile he understood as if it was his own. It was like being taken over by a tidal wave. He knew everything about her, except her name. It was all really overwhelming.

20:15

Lando should have connected the dots. Anita was a bubbly friendly person, of course she would invite someone who had helped her, over to dinner, in case he himself does not show up due to some unforeseen circumstances. He sat down, without saying a word. "Oh, you're here, amazing!" Anita greeted him with a light peck on the cheek. Lando almost flinched away, physical contact with her suddenly feeling wrong. He kept his eyes down on the table, all of this being a little too much. "Lando, meet Y/N."

Finally. A name to a face. Strong sense of relief and excitement washed over him. Of course it was that name, it suited her vibe completely. The best name. He finally looked up and locked eyes with her for the first time. She was already looking at him and visibly gulped as finally joined her.

These few seconds before the silence got broken were more like hours. They both studied each other like astronomers who get absorbed by the beauty of a distant comet. One they'd only read about and one that's finally passing the sky in their lifetime.

"And Y/N, this is Lando-"

She knew his face, of course she did. But never paid much attention to it, as he served more like a concept, than an actual person to her. Sitting across from him however brought a sense of understanding. No wonder everyone liked him and many people obsessed over him. He was gorgeous, electric. Y/N was grateful for the table that put a physical barrier between them, as the urge to touch him, to test if he was real, overtaking her brain quickly. Like a siren luring her to jump into endlessly deep waters. She had a hard time believing that she would refuse. Her one and only thought was that a person like that is born once in a century.

Except that's not exactly true. But unbeknownst to her, they were soulmates. She was destined to be eternally delusional about him. He was fated to dance around her until the end of time.

"-my boyfriend."

Anita's words cut through like knife. Both of her dinner partners shifted, as if she had splashed them with cold water, and returned back to reality. A great cloud of guilt sat on the fourth empty chair, which the waiters forgot to take away, invisible to Anita, but smiling evilly at Y/N and Lando. And they hadn't even said a word to each other yet.

part 3

[pit-and-the-pen]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

A/N: Part Two to Requited Love

I know people have been waiting for this. And the poll is still active but I couldn’t wait any longer. There are two endings and this is the unofficial (in terms of my ongoing Sunbeam series) Azriel ending but… just bare with me

Read the other ending Here

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort , implied smut (not with Az)

WC:4.4 K

divider by @cafekitsune

The next morning I was in Rhys office. He barely even looked up from the paper strewn over his desk before I spoke. 

“I’m going back home.” 

He sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes raked over me, “Does this have anything to do with why Azriel was so huffy this morning?” His eyebrow raised and I felt the anger I’d been trying to quell since last night rise its head up like a sleeping dragon.

“Fuck off. Let him be mad if he wants to be mad.” I snapped. 

“Mad isn’t exactly how I would put it,” He paused looking at me. “What happened?” The High Lord questioned. I sighed not having the strength to recount the events from last night. 

“Nothing but the inevitable.” he frowned at my non-answer but didn’t press any harder. 

“I’ll miss you. We all will.” He said finally. I nodded. 

“You all should visit.” Not an I’ll visit. No. If I could avoid it I would never step foot into this miserable court ever again. 

I was gone by mid-morning. Mor had helped me winnow the things I wanted to take with me. What they did with the rest wasn’t any of my concern. Rhys or Feyre had bought it all for me anyways, let them decide what to do with their money. 

Once I had gotten settled into my room, I hugged Mor goodbye and thanked her for her help. She just gave me a tighter hug and told me she would visit soon. 

It was two weeks before I could see Helion.Two weeks of settling back into my court that I loved so dearly. Helion

 He was visiting Dawn court for some trade agreement that needed to be signed. I came by every day, asking if he’d returned you. His second would just silently shake her head at me. And I would stomp back to my room like an angry babe. 

Two weeks of checking before I finally saw her nod her head and I had to stop myself from running into Helions office. I had the control to at least knock on the door but not much else. I quickly shut the door behind me as he called me in. 

“Sunbeam!” He called out when saw my face. “I had hoped the rumors of you moving back home were true.” He walked around the desk and gave me a brisk hug. Very out of character for him. 

“You’re not an easy man to schedule an appointment with, Helion.” I smiled warmly at the High Lord of my court. 

“If you wanted a piece of me, you only had to say the words and I would have come running darling.” There's the flirt I remember. I thought, rolling my eyes.

“But judging by your urgency in requesting a meeting that my second expressed to me, I’m going to assume that’s not what you wanted to see me for.”

My smile dropped as I braced myself for the question I needed to ask him.

“I need you to break a mating bond”

His mouth fell open. For once in my life, Helion was speechless. “I don’t know if I can even do that. Are you sure that’s what you want?” His eyes saw right through me. I threw my head back, a sad laugh bubbling past my lips. 

“Yes. No. Gods I don’t know. I just don’t want it to hurt like this forever.” I felt treacherous tears starting to fall down my face. Helion grabbed my arms gently before I could wipe them away. 

“I know you well enough to know that you don’t run away from hard things.” He held me against his chest as I really started to sob. 

“Helion. Every second that I’m away from him it kills me. I’m over here dying inside over some male who only ever saw me as a second option.” 

“Then he’s an idiot. But the mother still saw fit to make you two mates. Give it some more thought, you’re clearly still not fully decided. I’ll do some research to see if it’s even possible and if you still want to, I’ll be here to help.” I nodded my thanks into his shirt. He takes my head between his hands and uses his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking down my face. He gives me a gentle kiss on the top of my head before I walk out of the room. 

Helion was powerful, but apparently not powerful enough to break a mating bond. Many had tried but no one had ever successfully achieved it without one or both parties dying. As much as I resented Azriel, I didn’t want to kill him, nor myself to be rid of him. So I would just keep ignoring that little golden feeling in my chest, the feeling that seemed to be growing more everyday. 

I fell into a familiar routine back in the Day Court. I took up my old job as a researcher. My days were spent surrounded by the massive libraries of my home court. People would come to us with questions and it was our job to use the knowledge at our disposal to find them answers. It kept me busy at the very least, but I did have to admit that I love doing it. I felt more useful here than I ever had at the Night Court. Pangs of sadness would rip through me when someone snarked in a way that made me think of Cassian. When someone would smirk and I could only picture Rhysand standing in front of me as he beat me in chess. The art was so beautiful that I longed to show Feyre if only to see that twinkle in eye as she dissected the colors and shading used. 

Worst of all, I truly did miss Azriel. Time had given my anger less of an edge. Thinking of him didn’t hurt the way it once had. Didn’t have me spiraling in on myself until I was nothing more than sobs. I still wasn’t ready to forgive him but I wasn’t angry anymore and that had to count for something right? And it had nothing with the small feelings I would occasionally receive from the other end of the bond. I don’t know if he was consciously doing it or if it was purely because of the depth of the emotions he felt. 

I stopped looking for ways to sever the bond between us. Content with just letting it sit unreturned in my chest for the rest of my very long life. 

Someone calling my name pulled me from my musing. One of the messengers, Dia, smiled brightly up at me. “Hey sunbeam. Helion asked me to deliver this to you.” I took the golden envelope from her. I thanked her and she turned around, leaving me back to my books. 

I slid my finger under the seal and pulled out the letter. He was flirty even in a letter. He had requested that I accompany him to the latest ball he was hosting. Helion, ever the charmer, even placed boxes for me to check yes or no. I giggled to myself at the juvenile nature of it, but checked yes with the quill sitting next to me. 

The ball was just a few days away and I was so excited as dress after dress were brought into my room for me to try on. The one that ended up catching my eye was a floor length glossimer dress, such a pale golden color it looked almost like sunlight itself. The bottom was dyed a light pink color that flowed into it seamlessly. It took my breath away as the last button snapped into place. It fit like a glove and I knew instantly this was the dress I had to wear. 

Facing the mirror, I was blown away by the person standing in front of me. I didn’t recognize her. My hair was pinned up into a flowing updo at the base of my neck. I caught eyes in the mirror and whirled around to see Helion racking his eyes over my figure.

He let out a low whistle and I blushed, adjusting my tiara. I walked over to him and he held out his hand for me, twirling me around dramatically when I took it. “No one will be able to take their eyes off of you, Sunbeam.” His eyes hungirly raked over me, “If you ever reconsider my offer. I would take you to bed in a heartbeat. Just say the words.” I pushed his shoulder, I didn’t doubt his words. 

“Keep your pants on Helion. We have a ball to get to.” 

“I’m High Lord. I can be late.” His pupils had dilated and I rolled my eyes, pushing him out the door before I linked my arm into his. 

The ball was as lavish as I had expected. There was much to celebrate and this was mostly to welcome the new High Lord. Eris. Beron had finally died a few months back and Eris had officially stepped into the role with grace. The autumn court once known for its cruelty seemed to be taking a new direction and as I talked to nobility from the court, it was for the better. I had gotten to know him over the years, his frequent visits to the Night Court, plus a few flirty exchanges that I always brushed off, while he was helping us during the war softened me to him. Learning the true events of that night with Mor. 

I locked eyes with Eris across the room. He had been heartbreakingly handsome when he was just High Fae but as a High Lord? His hair had grown slightly longer, just touching his shoulders. Dressed in a deep maroon suit that showed off every single one of his muscles. The permanent scowl that had been etched into his face had been replaced with a smile that radiated comfort. My feet seemed to move without deciding to. Eris kept his eyes locked onto mine as I got closer. My cheeks heated up under his intense stare. 

“Hi little sunbeam,” Honeyed words wrapped around me. “Seems like you’re no longer hiding in the shadows.” He held out his hand, eyes flickering to the dance floor. I smiled up at him and gently placed my hand in his. 

His touch was firm and the warmth of his power radiated off of him. He clutched my waist, pulling me flush to his front. I felt every plane of his toned body pressed against me and goosebumps broke out across my skin having nothing to do with the temperature in the room. The two of us gilded across the floor. I could feel the eyes of the room on us but I only had eyes for the male in front of me. 

“If I had known you danced this good, I would have pulled you out of that miserable court a long time ago.” He spoke into the shell of my ear.  “I’ll never understand what the Shadowslinger was thinking, even I could smell the mating bond on you. Plus, one look at me with those beautiful doe eyes and I would have been putty in your hands.” He nipped at my earlobe and I felt it deep in my stomach. But I couldn’t help that twinge in my gut that made this feel wrong. Even with all of him pressed up against me. Eris would only have to say the words and any fae in Prythian would be on their knees before them. Even I had to admit he was devastatingly handsome. So I fought against that little voice screaming at me and leaned into his touch more. 

Before I knew what had happened, I felt Eris’ warmth leave me. I shuddered at the new chill in the air. When I looked around, I saw shadows wrapped around my torso, lovingly coiled around my waist. I almost smiled at their weight. 

“Keep your hands off of her.” Azriel growled at the High Lord woh did nothing but smirk at me as I was pulled from the room onto a balcony just outside the ballroom. 

 “You had no right!” I screeched at him, wrenching my arm from his grasp. Anger seethed through me. I felt my palms heat up from the light trying to escape from them. He went to grab my arm and I ripped it back from his reach. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Please.” Was all he said and suddenly it was like that night all over again. Me pouring my heart out and all he could say was please. 

“Please what, Azriel? Is that all you know how to do, beg and plead. For what? Was breaking my heart once not enough for you.” 

“Gods. What do you want me to say?” He ran his hands through his hair. He looked like he was about to lose it. Good. “Do you want to hear how I was fucking terrified. How any good thing that I had ever received had been taken away from me? That when I felt that twinge in my chest, that I knew what it meant but prayed to the gods that it wasn’t that.” I went to start in on him again. “No. Not because of that, because I knew that you were the one person who could utterly destroy me. Mor was a pass time. She was convenient and it would have made sense for us to be together in some capacity. Then Elain showed up. I saw so much of her in you, she was sweet and kind but she wasn’t you. Looking back, I don’t even know why I was so hung up on her. I’m not saying I wasn’t stupid because I was and I said some awful things to you. I said them because I knew that was the only thing that would get you to realize I would never deserve you.” 

“Stop. Just stop. I’m sure you’ve rehearsed this all before but do you actually think I’m stupid enough to believe it?” I spit out between my teeth. 

“No. I don’t think you’re stupid at all. The exact opposite. Yet for some reason you never ended up breaking the bond. Which would have been the smart thing to do. You deserve that, I deserved that.” 

That made me pause. “How did you…Did Helion tell you?” Angry at the idea of Helion running to Azriel with that information. 

“Helion told Rhys who passed it on to me. Rhys explained what would most likely happen if you decided to break it and before he could tell Helion he had lost his mind, I told him if that’s what you wanted to do I would accept that.” He said plainly. A part of me knew he was telling the truth. 

“Don’t be stupid. You would have died if I broke the bond. It wasn’t the same as rejecting it. That type of magic broke the very part of you it formed to.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth right now. 

“I know. And I figured that if you were in enough pain to take that risk, to risk you dying, then I should be willing to risk it for a situation I had put us both in.” My mind was reeling at his words.

“That night..” I started, he interrupted me.

“I said the most vile things I could think of. I panicked when you told me about the bond. If you could feel it too, I knew nothing good could have come from that so I pushed you away.” I shook my head, as if I could shake his words away from my ears. 

“You seemed so shocked when I told you.” 

His head sunk down, voice small “I was shocked because no part of me believed, believes, that I deserve you in that way.” When he stepped forward, I didn’t step away. Mind too busy catching up with his words. “Please say something. “ 

I turned my eyes up to look at him. Hazel eyes soft sparkling with unshed tears. I wanted to rip into him. I truly did. Some sick part of me wanted to make him hurt like he had hurt me but I know that wouldn’t fix anything here. 

“You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to say all the right things and just have me forgive you. You don’t get to say that you love me after everything you did.” He sighed. Leaning his head on top of mine. I frowned at the contact, but didn’t push him away, refusing to melt into him. “Whatever your reason. You said all those things that you knew would hurt me, you said them and some part of you had to believe them.” 

“I know. There isn’t a day that I don’t regret everything that I said, everything I had put you through over all those years. I took you for granted and I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you were gone.” I wanted to push him back but something in me let his words sink into my bones. Because the moment I looked into his eyes I felt the other side of the bond snap into place. I gasped at the feeling I had spent so long ignoring. The bond seemed to sing in the air around us. My own sunlight flickering under my palms as I felt the sincerity of his words pump through the bond. The feeling was foreign but warm. It wrapped around me like a blanket, soothing my tense muscles. I didn’t realize how much the empty bond had been weighing on my shoulders. 

“You know this doesn’t change anything.” Was all I said and as he looked at me again, I knew that was a lie. “We can’t start over. There's no way to take back everything you said, everything you did” I said once I regained my ability to talk. His face sank completely.”I won’t break the bond. But I’m not accepting it either.” I ignored that kernel of hope I felt from him. 

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.” He leaned closer to me, taking my face in his hands. I didn’t fight him as he tilted my head up to meet his eyes. His eyes flickered to my lips but he just pressed a chaste kiss to the top of my head “I would cut off my own wings if you said it would make you happy.” He swore. A shudder racked through at the sincerity in his words. I pushed out of grasp and walked back down to the ball still in full swing. 

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

A strong pair of arms wrapped tighter around me as I started to rouse from my dreams. I snuggled deeper into the blankets tucked around me and laughed at the hand starting to creep higher up my naked chest. Rolling over I was met with baby blue eyes. Sol smirked at me as I stopped his wandering hands. “Was last night not enough for you?” I joked and he beamed at me. He rolled me over so I was underneath him

“How could I ever get enough of you?” He started kissing a trail down my neck and I groaned as a rush of desire flooded my veins. Ignoring the tug of anger that followed it. I hooked my leg around Sol’s waist and pulled him down to me. 

I smiled as I walked into work, willing the flush in my cheeks to tame itself as I settled amongst the books still sprawled across my desk. 

“Busy morning?” Aurora said, covering her mouth as she tried to hide her smile. 

“Very.” I returned, laughing at her faux scandalized look. 

“I don’t know how you manage to pull yourself away from him. If that was me I would ri-” 

“Aurora!” I chastised her. Smacking her arm playfully. My mind drifted off to the activities this morning. While we weren’t official, it had become a recurring event of Sol and I waking up tangled in my sheets. I was lucky to get out of the door on time those mornings. He kept pushing for something more solid. But some nagging part of me just couldn’t do it. I hated the idea of leading him, and that wasn’t my intention when this all started. He had caught my eye after that conversation with Azriel at the ball and it took one flirty joke before my lips were crashing against his. 

Sol was sweet and kind. He had been patient with me as I sorted out all of my own shit. Never giving me push back when I shut down the conversation of what exactly I wanted from this. Which I truthfully didn’t ever have an answer for. He put up with me pulling him into my bed night after night but I knew eventually he was going to grow tired of this arrangement. My stomach churned at the thought of now spoiled memories of his hands roaming over my body. I sighed, laying my head against my desk. Letting the cool wood calm my nerves. 

It came later than I had expected it, honestly. He was kinder than I deserved for the months I had led him on. His mate. I could laugh at the irony. But I wished him well with one last searing kiss and that was that. I truly did want the best for him, and I knew that wasn’t me. Not at my current state. 

I retreated into myself after that. Maybe there's something wrong with me. It was hard to keep those thoughts at bay. Everyone always found better things than me. Always the second choice. Those words I had spilled to Azriel had  come from the deepest part of my soul. All the cruel things he said to me were replaying in a loop until I felt tears spilling down my face. 

A frantic knock at my door pulled me from my despair. I didn’t even have time to wipe away the tears before I saw Helion standing in my doorway. His face held none of his usual charm. No, standing before me was Helion, not the playboy but the High Lord. 

“It’s Rhys.” That was all he had to say for me to take off sprinting along the halls. Helion could barely keep up with me and I wretched the door to his study open. 

Rhys didn’t so much as look up as I barreled into the office. I reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What's wrong?” And Rhys just broke in front of me. He explained about Feyre’s pregnancy. The wings that would most likely kill her. I felt my stomach drop to my feet.

“How can I help, Rhys?” I saw the pain in his eyes. 

“Just try to find if this has ever been attempted. Or if there's a way to make this safer for her.” Rhys looked like a shell of himself and I knew I would do whatever I had to do to never see him look so broken ever again. I knew what I needed to do as hard as the words were going to be to get out.

“I’ll come back with you.” He looked like I had grown three heads. “Between my research and healing, I’ll be the next best thing after Helion to help Feyre with this. Please. Let me help her survive this.” His eyes welled with tears as he just nodded. 

“I can’t thank you enough.” He wrapped his arms tightly around me. The laugh that left my lips was tense. 

“Thank me once we save her.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do after you helped me so much.” I placed a hand over his shaking one. 

I didn’t pack much. Most of which was as many books that Helion could bother parting with. All on various topics, Illyrian anatomy, childbirth and healing. I’d been healing since I was a child. With Madja by my side, even if we couldn’t find a way to safely deliver the baby, we could prevent Feyre from bleeding out. 

Rhys came the next morning to winnow me to the Night Court. I said goodbyes for now to my new friends. Helion had given me a tight hug as he thanked me for doing what he could not. 

Feyre greeted me exuberantly, crushing me against her as well as she could at the bump jutting out from her stomach. She was glowing. From the look of her, she didn’t have too much longer to go and I felt lightheaded at the thought of how much research I had to do in not much time. 

I was standing up on the roof, looking out at the lights of Velaris when I felt him behind me. I didn’t turn around as he joined me near the railing. 

“Thank you for being here. Rhys already seems more comfortable, more like himself.” My nod was the only acknowledgement I gave him that I had heard him. He signed and stayed looking out at the skyline. 

“Look...” He started. I cut him off.

“Don’t do this again, Azriel.” There was no anger in my voice this time. Just the voice of something who was so broken, broken because of this man. “We can’t go back and change the past. We can’t start over and you’ll never be able to undo the pain you caused. “

“Let me try. Please. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” His tone was just as raw as mine. And something in me broke. The part that was tired of pretending my feelings went away. I knew deep down in my heart that this was another chance. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to love you the way I did before.” I risked a glance over to him and I was blown away by the breathtaking smile that graced his face. 

““I’ll take you any way that you’ll have me” I knew he was telling the truth. It was there under the stars I realized, though it wouldn’t happen over night, loving Azriel would be as easy as breathing.

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged rant >:(

Demon Slayer fandom discourse

I want to start this by saying, I know that Demon Slayer isn't an explicitly queer manga/anime because Shōnen Jump, but I believe that Demon Slayer is for the queers and has lots of themes that we can identify with like love, acceptance, loss, guilt and strength.

Despite what these stupid, smelly, ignorant, power-scaling, non-ass-washing, Cheetos-dust-snorting, once-a-month-showering, dude-bros would have you believe, Demon Slayer isn't just another battle Shōnen anime/manga, it's a love story and about the perseverance of the human spirit and if that doesn't speak to the queer experience then I don't know what does.

Plus, I don't know how Gotogue-sensei is as a person, but I think the fact that she managed to make one of the kindest mcs in shōnen speaks volumes about her disposition. I don't think she would be one to reject queer fans identifying with her story so well.

In these recent times, it seems like everything is going to shit, the world is slowly regressing into the dark ages destroying decades of progress and trying to distract ourselves from all this by engaging with the fandoms we love is hard because everything seems to cater to cis, straight, white men.

To be honest, I created this blog mostly out of spite, but I also wanted to carve out a tiny space for myself where I can talk out of my ass and not have some decrepit reddit dude bro go all 'well, ackshually ☝🤓' on me, and I'm happy to have met so many like-minded people.

So, I've compiled a list of answers to the common types of nonsense drivel these fuckers post in response to shipping and queer discussions and theories about Demon Slayer. You can copy and paste whenever and wherever you encounter these black holes of ignorance and stupidity if you want.

In the Taisho era, there were no gay/queer people: This is one of the dumbest statements I've ever heard, and the fact that it's a really common response really shows how we've failed as a society. Queer people have existed for ages all over the world, Japan has an extensive queer history. Demon Slayer is based on samurai culture and samurai culture was really, really, really, really, really, really, really gay. Sure, it had rigid roles, but that doesn't make it any less queer. A quick Google search would go a long way to nourish that dried-out, shrivelled husk you call a brain. Go read a book you walking condom ad, your parents and education system have obviously failed you.

It's forcing sexuality into the story: We literally had a whole season dedicated to the mcs going to the 'entertainment district', we have a sexy man with three wives who talks about 'loving' them all equally, we have the abundant male fanservice, one of the mcs talks about women on the daily, we have a boy who eats demons and is horny shy around girls all the time, we have his brother who exposes his tits because he's proud of them, we have a demon who was essentially a sexual predator that targeted 16-year-old girls and ate them, the main villain shape-shifts into a woman to 'get' information as a Geisha, we have a girl who literally lusts after almost everyone she meets but yea no lets not force sexuality into it 🙄.

I don't care: Okay cool, but I value your opinion as much as I value the shit I took this morning.

It's who they are as a character that matters: Sexuality is a part of a person's character. Your sexuality defines your experiences, decisions, options and outlook on life. That's why you as a straight man can be so ignorant.

It's forced*(I really hate this one): Honestly, fuck you. Why is it that you only think something is forced when it doesn't revolve around you and your experiences? You guys are fine with tons of anime/manga that sexualize women and girls to an insane degree even when it doesn't make sense, but that doesn't stop you from consuming and glazing the hell out of the authors, but when we talk about including queer characters suddenly it's forced? Your existence is forced, and you can just eat shit.

I don't like it: Who the fuck do you think you are dictating how other people consume and interpret the media they consume? How about you go hump your smelly, cum-encrusted anime body pillow.

Men can be touchy/emotional with each other without it being gay, it's just our western standards: No it isn't the majority of shipping activities and works come from Japan, which wouldn't happen if it was just part of their culture. We're not stupid, we know men and boys can be friends without it being sexual, and we know when a friendship is just that, and then we know when two guys are straight up pining for one another.

It's not canon/the mangaka didn't explicitly state it: They can't because of Shōnen Jump, so a lot of them pass off information about a character through subtext, metaphors and allegories. They also don't have to, things don't have to outright stated or 'canon' for them to make sense and if you need them to be so for you to understand or enjoy the story then a moment of silence for your head since it's without a brain.

It's not common: Despite Shōnen Jump, there are lots of mainstream anime/manga that have queer characters: One Punch Man, Hunter x Hunter, Dr. Stone, Windbreaker, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Naruto, Gintama, Dragon Ball Z, My Hero Academia, Fairy Tail, One Piece, Attack on Titan, Tokyo Ghoul, Jujutsu Kaisen, Chainsaw Man, Blue Period and that's not to talk of the ones with queer subtext like I dunno ALL Sports anime/manga to ever exist!

Why do you look for LGBTQ in everything?: It might be hard for straights to understand but growing up queer and looking for a connection causes us to develop what we call a gaydar that helps us identify characteristics, mannerisms, features and vibes from a person that screams 'ONE OF US! ONE OF US!'. It's only natural, and our gaydar doesn't suddenly turn off when we're consuming media, especially when it's media that we love and hold dear to our hearts. It doesn't matter if the mangaka inserted these characteristics intentionally or not, that doesn't stop us from picking up on them, and why should it?

Shipping is stupid: So is power-scaling, but that doesn't stop you assholes from making thousands of posts, creating YouTube channels and sharing content about it and cramming it down our throats. It's even worse because it's from grown-ass men.

The characters have no chemistry/they hate each other: A lot of queer ships have more chemistry, history, interactions, personality and development than a lot of 'canon' straight couples. It's literally a trope in media that all a man and a woman need to be in a relationship is to be in close proximity to each other, then their relationship goes on to be drier than salted crackers in silicone packets scattered in the Sahara desert. Well, I guess you can't blame the creators, you write what you know after all.

I know this is a lot and I know how angry I sound right now, but I'm so sick and so tired of all these guys who are as useful to the human race as pieces of freshly shat out dog turds that have been thrown in the grass by the sidewalk in a hot summer afternoon, who can't see past their lice-infested neck beards trying to make something as colorful, interesting, joyful and queer as anime and the fandoms fit their own boring, stupid and misogynistic worldview.

In Conclusion, Demon Slayer is amazing, horny* and unbelievably queer.

*I'm talking about the male fanservice btw :)