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withleeknow · 3 days ago

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wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood.

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all.

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything.

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway.

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying.

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear.

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still.

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent.

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was.

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it.

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him.

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?”

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen.

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

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bitchface24-7 · 11 hours ago

Text

THANK GOD FOR JAYCE TALIS - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Jayce has been too busy with the council, duties, parties, etc to keep up his clean shaven look, and his undercut. Viktor and reader appreciate the rugged look.

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m (no homo does NOT apply here)

warnings: appreciating the beauty of Jayce, flirty reader/Viktor, flustered Jayce, implied future smut, pre-established relationship between you three, no beta we die like most arcane characters

The serenity of the lab is disturbed by the large doors opening, a creak giving away the intruder. Viktor and you don’t worry, the doors are typically locked and only four people have access to the keys.

You, Viktor, Jayce, and Heimerdinger.

Luckily for you two, it’s your third partner.

You look up and whistle appreciatively at the sight of one rugged Jayce Talis. He’s typically seen prim and proper, always at the top of his self-care. But now, as a councillor, he’s a high in demand presence for parties, speeches, and meetings. He barely has time to come to the lab, he doesn’t have time to primp himself into his regular look.

But this new look, oh it’s doing something to you.

His undercut has faded away into a head of luscious locks, and his typical five o’clock shadow has grown into a beard. Jayce has always been attractive; but this combo has made it even more apparent. Highlighting his features in a glorious way.

“Hello councillor Talis, how may we help you?” You say in a sultry tone as you swivel away from your desk. Your eyes undressing the handsome man.

Jayce’s face flushes as he runs a hand over his beard, you bite your lip.

“More like how can he help us.” Viktor states as he removes his goggles to look at you two. A sly smirk on his pink lips. Jayce nervously licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair, Viktor pushes his tongue against his check; appreciating Jayce wholeheartedly.

Jayce clears his throat, “I know it’s been a while since I’ve been in the lab…” he trails off, his expression very much reminding the two of you of a kicked puppy, “but I’ve missed you two. This is where I’m supposed to be. I hate being a councillor.” His tone goes whiny at the end.

Viktor hums a bit snootily before replying, “You could’ve always declined becoming a councillor.”

You butt in, trying to lessen the building tension in the lab, “You know why he couldn’t Viktor. Having Jayce as a council member does more good for us then not.”

“I know, I know. But still… you’re a scientist Jayce not a politician.”

Jayce sighs despondently, “I know, Viktor. How can I make it up to you two?”

You and Viktor share a heated glance, before looking Jayce up and down. Jayce feels like he’s trapped, a prey going up against two very hungry predators.

You get up from your desk chair and slowly sway your way over to Jayce, running a hand through his hair, over his defined jaw, then you run a single finger down his neck and chest, “You could always show us how much you missed us. Actions speak louder than words Jayce. Besides I’ve missed having your pretty face between my thighs. I’m quite sure Viktor can agree with me on that.”

Jayce gulps as he hears the rhythmic tap of Viktor’s cane against the marble floor, before he knows it, Viktor is standing right next to you; getting his own hands on Jayce.

He runs his long, lean fingers over Jayce’s waist, and slowly wraps his hand around Jayce’s belt buckle, “That I can my dear. Getting a beard burn in between our thighs would be lovely, no? I’ve also missed another part of Jayce. This one is much thicker.” His accent purrs out the words in a sinfully sexy way.

Jayce feels his eyes widen as he’s pushed back against the couch in the lab. He hadn’t even realized he was subtly getting ushered there.

“So what do you say Jayce?” You purr as you undo your academy issued vest, “You wanna show us how much you’ve missed us?” Viktor’s behind you, groping and feeling your body to his fullest content. Over your chest, your waist, your hips. You can feel him kissing the side of your neck, you tilt your head the opposite way so he has more room. You can see from your peripheral vision that Viktor is staring Jayce down.

Jayce just nods quickly and silently. His voice caught in his throat.

“Words Jayce.” Viktor demands. Jayce whimpers slightly before following the order, “Yes… yes please.”

“Yes please what, Jayce.”

Jayce’s pants have never been so tight. He feels like panting and he hasn’t even been touched yet. The two of you are gonna kill him one day.

“Please let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”

You and Viktor look at each other with a coy smile before descending onto Jayce.

You just hope no one comes into the lab with any questions. You didn’t lock the door; you’re not even sure if you closed it all the way.

Oh well, whoever comes in will see one hell of a show!

Y’all I’m currently obsessed with arcane 😩😩 I’ve got another Jayvik x reader draft going on and it’s super long and I’m not even done. I still gotta write the proper smut scene. If anyones got any requests, send ‘em my way. I need to get this out of my system LOL

#arcane #viktor arcane #jayce talis #jayce arcane #viktor imagine #viktor x reader #viktor x jayce #jayce x reader #jayvik x reader #jayvik #fem!reader #male!reader #gender neutral reader #arcane smut #viktor smut #jayce smut #no beta we die like men

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b3ach-bunn7 · 3 days ago

Text

NONSENSE

You're horrible at technology, and find yourself fliriting with you university's IT customer service.

University!au, noquirk!au, fluff

(side note i love shinsou hitoshi)

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You’re sure your stupid shitty laptop could break world records with how useless and slow it is.

You don’t think you’re much better. You study veterinary medicine so you can name every bone in a cat's ass but it would take you ten years to figure out how to send a Word document to somebody. The only up to being so horrible at technology, is your university has an IT customer service.

It’s weird and you don’t really understand how it works, but according to the front page, you can call anytime from 10am to 3am. With the clock ticking minutes before your submission date, and with an essay due tomorrow, you decide it will be less embarrassing to confess you have no idea how to work the university’s submission system, than not submit at all. You dial the number quickly, biting your thumbnail as it rings a couple times before it picks up. The person on the other line barely said their hellos before you started rambling.

“Okay, I know this is really stupid, but I cannot figure out how to attach my submission to this stupid fucking- I mean, this stupid system. And I have like, twenty minutes before my submission date, so I’d really appreciate any help you can give me.”

“Why would you leave your submission so last minute?”

You frown. You’re unaware that customer support could be so sassy. And also attractive. At least his voice is. It’s smooth and soft, and you press your phone closer to your ear to hear him better.

“Uhm. I don’t need the sass, thank you, I need the help.” You drawl, clicking at your laptop aggressively.

There’s a little chuckle of amusement on the other end of the line. “Apologies, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?”

“Would you prefer sir?”

Your face twists in annoyance. “I’d prefer you to help me.”

“Alright, alright. Okay, so enter the module the work is for, scroll to the bottom.” He pauses slightly so you can follow his instructions.

“Okay.”

“Then click the three dots on the top left. Where it says enter, click that and select your file, then submit.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t the button say submit. Instead of fucking enter.” You grumble, quickly attaching your work and handing it in.

“Not sure. I’ll let the university know.” He says, faux sympathy coating his voice.

“That’d be nice.” You glanced at your phone. You’re not sure what exactly happens now.

“So. Is that it?”

“Is what it?”

“Do I just. Hang up? Now that you’ve helped me?”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again. “Unless you wanna keep me company for the rest of my shift?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

You hang up, trying to ignore the small smile on your own face as you do it. You don't have to miss him for long though, because you find yourself calling them back only a few days later after the wifi in your room refuses to work.

You turn it off, then on. You carry your laptop all around your flat and hold it up to the ceiling knowing it won’t make a single difference. You ask your roommate and she is having no issue. It’s only when you’re about two seconds from snapping your laptop in half before you realise you’re not even connected. And after you find out your roommate is fine once more, you find yourself scrolling through your call history to find the IT number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?”

You gape. “It’s you again!”

“Hey, it’s submission girl.” He grins. “You forget it’s called enter again?”

You roll your eyes. “Ha ha. I’m not calling for your horrible comedy, I'm calling because my WiFi isn’t working. You can help me with that, right?”

He groans into the phone. “Do I have to?”

“Yes you have to. It’s your job, IT guy.”

“I suppose. Since you asked me so nicely.”

You sit up in your bed. “Okay. What should I do?”

“Are you sure it’s not just the WiFi being shitty?” He asks.

You hum questionably. “No, I don’t think so. I asked my roommate and she said that hers is fine. And it’s also saying disconnected.”

You pause for a minute. “Wait, how do you know the WiFi is shitty?”

He snorts a laugh. “I’m a student too, idiot. I have to deal with shitty wifi as well.”

“Oh.”

You’re not shocked per say. He certainly doesn’t sound like a middle aged man you’d imagine working in IT. It’s nice to confirm though. And the fact that he is probably around your age means you can keep finding his voice hot.

“What, do I sound that old?”

Definitely not. “Yeah.”

“Shut up. You sound worse.” He mumbles and you tut.

“Horrible customer service. I’m filing a complaint.”

A small laugh is heard from the other line. “I’d rather you didn’t. Rent is not cheap here.”

You lay back on your bed, dragging your laptop up on your knees. “You live in the student dorms?”

“Well, duh. I am a student, after all.”

You roll your eyes. “What year are you?” “Second.”

“Hey, me too! How old are you?” “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

He replies that he’s nineteen, just like you. You wonder if you’ve seen him around before. Maybe he’s even in the same course as you. You could ask for his name, but you think that might be a little weird. That, and you sort of love the mystery around the man. Who knew being so useless at technology would lead to such great things?

Your laptop flickers off, and it’s only then you remember that you called him for a reason. You tap the keyboard and it lights back up, and your anger flares up once more. You huff, and IT guy seems to remember why you called too.

“Right, your wifi. You said it’s working for your roommate?” He asks.

“Yeah. And it’s working on my phone, it’s just my laptop.”

He hums, and you can hear the faint sound of clicking on the other line. “What building are you in?” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned by these questions?”

“Not if you answer.”

You smile. “I’m in 4A.”

He takes another few seconds, and you lean your head back on your bed as you wait for him to say something.

“Alright. Your password should be, ‘uab4a’. You wanna try type that in?”

You groan, sitting up again. “I have, like six hundred times. But okay.” You huff, doing it once more.

Nothing. You sigh, defeated. All you want to do is watch some Netflix.

It takes about five tries before IT guy finally starts to get stressed out with you. He tells you to click different things, turn your laptop on and off, restart it. You follow all his instructions to no avail, and you shake your head.

“You know what, maybe I’ll just watch Netflix on my phone.” You sigh, said phone now on speaker and thrown on your bedsheets.

IT guy tuts. “None of that talk. I just don’t understand. We’ve tried literally everything. The only way I-”

Suddenly the other line goes quiet. You grab your phone to check he didn’t hang up and you see that it’s now been 18 minutes of you two on the phone together.

“Why have you gone all quiet?”

“Is your caps lock on?”

You bark a laugh. “Right. Like I’m that stupid to-”

You look down. The little light next to your capslock button is flashing, and your face heats red and IT guy starts cackling down the other line. You write the password once more, in lower case this time, and you let your face fall in your hands at the sign of four wifi bars flashing back at you.

“Oh my god.” You mumble, and IT guy just keeps laughing.

“Oh- Oh my god, you idiot.”

“Shut up! I dont- How did I not realise?” You cry, slamming your laptop shut.

IT guy takes a deep breath. “I really don’t know.”

You shake your head, putting the phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” You mumble.

“Aw, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I think you’re the only person that calls this line, anyway.”

You decide to ignore the nickname, and the tingle it leaves in your gut, and nod. “Good, then. I’m keeping your job for you.”

“So kind. Alright, go watch your show.”

“Night, IT guy.”

“Goodnight.”

Over the next two weeks, you end up calling a handful of times. Your password needs resetting, you accidentally deleted a file. Each inane task ends up with the two of you sitting on the phone for ages afterwards. You learn that he’s an insomniac, and that’s why he always works the night shift. He also lives in building 5B, which is about a ten minute walk from your place. The fact he’s so close, that you could go see him right now, taunts you in the back of your mind everyday. The fact that he was in your university, that he could be your classmate or someone walking around campus.

But, like all things, your horrible internet habits mellow out. After a few days of no problems, you find yourself missing him. You’ve only spoken a handful of times, but he’s funny. He’s sarcastic and a little mean, but in a good way, a way that makes you a little giddy. And of course, now that you want issues, it’s so much harder for you to find some.

Over wine poured in mugs and reruns of you confess to your roommate your situation. She’s a little skeptical of the lack of identity, but she thinks you should just call him again. It couldn’t hurt, right? Worse case scenario, you hang up and the two of you never have to speak again. But best case scenario, you can have a conversation that’s actually about something meaningful. And you can get called sweetheart again.

It takes another two days for you to build up the courage, despite your friend’s support. You wait until it’s late, remembering that he told you he works the night shift, and anxiously dial the number.

“UA University IT Services, how can I help?” His voice sounds bored, automated, but you recognise it immediately.

“Hey, IT guy.”

You hear a shuffle on the other end. “Hey, it’s my favourite customer.”

“It’s me.” You say nervously.

“So, what is it today? WiFi on the fritz again?” He teases.

It takes a second for the words to get out. “Uh, no, I. I actually don’t need help with anything today.”

“Okay. So what’s the call for?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

Silence. Oh god. You immediately cringe, and you are never listening to your roommate again, because she’s always wrong and stupid.

“Really?” He says quietly.

You swallow. “Really really. Don’t sound too excited.” You joke and he laughs.

“Trust me, I am. I wanted to talk to you again too, but I had no way to. The numbers on our end don’t get saved after every call, so. I was waiting for you.”

You perk up at his words. “Really?” “Really really. I also couldn't ask around. I doubt you go by submission girl in your everyday.”

You walk into your room, hopping into bed. You lay down on your stomach, and place your phone in front of you, resting your face on your arms.

“No, not particularly. Wouldn’t it be weird, though? If we actually knew each other in person this whole time and we never knew?” “Nah, I doubt it. Think I’d remember a pretty voice like yours.”

Your face flushes. “Shut up. ” You say, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool you down.

He snorts a laugh. “What do you study?”

“Veterinary medicine.”

“Wait, that’s sick. Do you get to see cats?”

You grin. “Yes! I volunteered at a shelter last summer, they were so cute.”

He hums. “I love cats. I have one, you know.”

You eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Here? On campus? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Nobody knows about her. We won’t get caught/ She's a good girl, she isn't loud or anything. And my roommate in under sworn secrecy.” He says.

Good girl. There's no way he isn’t talking like that on purpose. You nod your head even though he can’t see you.

“Okay, and what if she came to live with me?” You ponder, and he scoffs.

“I’m not co-parenting my cat with you.”

You’re lucky enough that your room faces the setting sun and now, a soft orange glow covers your room. It’s just cold enough that you’re wearing a hoodie and your fluffiest socks, but your window is still open to freshen the air. There’s a vanilla scented candle on its last life on your bedside table, and you prop your phone up against it and lean back in your bed.

“I could report you, you know. They’ll kick you out the uni.”

IT guy pouts. “You don’t want that to happen. Then you’ll never see how beautiful I am in real life.”

You snort a laugh. “Well, what do you look like? So I know what to avoid on campus.”

He hums thoughtfully for a moment. You yourself have spent countless minutes wondering. Is he tall? Short? Blonde, or brunette, or maybe he’s bald. You have no idea.

“Well. I’m like, 6’1.”

“Yum.”

“Shut up.” He chides, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “And I have like. Kind of long hair. And I always look sleep-deprived, 24/7.”

“Night shifts will do that to you. What colours your hair?”

“Hm. No.”

You protest. “What do you mean no?”

“It’s a dead giveaway! I want to keep some of my mystery.”

He asks you what you look like. You give him the same cryptic descriptions he gave you.

“Wow. I can find you easily now.” He drawls and you grin.

“No matter. We’ll meet one day.” You say.

The two of you end up staying on the phone for hours. It’s unfair how easily you find things to talk about. He tells you about his course, Psychology, and you listen as he rambles in your ear about studies and experiments. As it gets later his voice gets deeper, lacing deliciously with sleep as his voice rumbles in your ears. The time wears on and your eyes start to blink heavily. You look at the time and it’s been three hours. Unfortunately, you are not like IT guy, and not only do you have classes tomorrow, but you need sleep to function.

You yawn heavily. “Look, I hate to be a buzzkill but I gotta sleep. I’ve got a ten am tomorrow.”

“Boring. But fine. I’ll, uh. Talk to you later.”

You nod sleepily. “Night.”

You reach your phone over to hang up but IT guy’s voice rings out, scratchy through the speaker.

“Wait! I- Can I give you my number?”

That’s enough to wake you up.

You sit up on one elbow, rubbing at your eyes. “Your what?”

“Phone number? It’s those numbers you dial in when you wanna call me.”

“It’s too late for sarcasm.” You scowl.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It’s just I’d like to have a way to communicate with you. And call you. And text, or whatever.”

You smile slightly. “Okay. Yeah, of course you can.”

He reads out his number and you jot it down. He hangs up soon after and you send him a quick text.

September 17th

01:20 am

You: goodnight IT guy 😁

IT guy: Goodnight 💜

Life gets much easier with his phone number. Now you can text him during your lectures, during the walk to and from your work. He calls you during his shifts and you keep him company for as long as you can before you fall asleep. Which you have embarrassingly done a few times.

He sends you pictures of his cat. A cute black one called Pesto. You ask for the meaning behind that and he said he was eating pesto pasta when he got her. There’s one picture where you can see his hands in the corner, fingers long and slender and you have to stop looking before your thoughts take a dangerous turn.

Theres a time, maybe a week in, that things between you shift. The playful flirting is upped, and the conversations between you become more meaningful. You start anxiously awaiting a text back, face flushing at the stuff he says sometimes. Maybe it isn’t the smartest idea to fall for a guy who you don’t really know, but you don't care.

He knows Denki, for one. You’d mentioned the name and he’d perked up. Denki was an energetic guy you met at a house party once. And if IT guy is friends with him then that's more than enough confirmation for you that he isn’t a freak.

You tell him more about what you look like. You haven’t sent a picture, but you think he might know enough to catch you on campus. He still hasn’t told you much else, and he confesses to you one night that he’s nervous about it.

IT guy: I don’t wanna be a buzz kill but I’m scared ur gonna be disappointed

You: literlaly shut up

You: idc if u look like a troll

IT guy: right

You: or an ogre

IT guy: is this supposed to make me feel better

You: YES

You: look what im trying to say that i genuinely don’t care because i like u regardless of all that

You: ur smart and ur funny and ur mean but ina good way

You: and u hace a cute cat called pesto

IT guy: so ur using me for my cat?

You: duh..

It’s been two days since that conversation, and IT guy has been much more active ever since. You’d like to think you’ve given him a little boost of confidence, but you don’t care why it’s happening. You’re just happy that it is.

You wish you could reply to whatever he’s sent you right now, but your boss might fire you if he catches you on your phone again.

You like the coffee shop you work at. It’s a quaint little hippy spot that’s a ten minute walk from your place. The pay is good enough, and you like your coworkers. Specifically Tokoyami. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, but he lets you chatter away to him every time you’re on shift together, and he always has good music recommendations for you.

Today, it’s the both of you on shift. You’re wiping down the coffee machines in the back and you can see him talking to someone at the counter. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s rare you see him talking so animatedly. So you try to get a closer look. And wow.

You don’t know who he’s talking to but you’d like to. His hair is purple. That’s the first thing you notice. It’s a lavender and it looks so soft and fluffy you want to reach out and touch it. His eyes are a deep brown, and there’s heavy bags under them, but they somehow make him look even more beautiful. He’s got a lazy smirk on his face as he says something to Tokoyami and you’re itching to reach forward and eavesdrop. But you can’t. You’re on cleaning duty. Of course you are when a cute guy comes in.

You feel a pang of guilt suddenly, when you remember IT guy. You don’t think you should be thinking about any other guys. Even really cute ones. You get your head down and keep wiping. It’s only a moment later when you hear a crash and your head shoots up. Something happened out in the shop, and a moment later Tokoyami pops his head in the kitchen.

“Someone spilled some shit on the floor. Can you take Shinsou?”

Shinsou. Tokoyamis told you about him before. A friend from university, or something like that.

“The purple haired guy?”

“Yep.”

“Gosh, the famous friend I’ve heard so much about. You never mentioned he’s so cute.” You wiggle your eyebrows and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, sorry but. He’s got a little girlfriend texting thing going on.”

You tell him you were only joking and he just pushes you out to the front. You peek a look at Shinsou and he’s looking off into the distance. Deliciously so.

You check his order and it’s just a black coffee. Simple enough. You make quick work of the drink, humming something under your breath as the machine whirls to life. You write his name on the cup in sharpie, and fill it up, pressing the lid and slipping on a cover so he doesn’t burn his hands.

You walk up to the counter. “Hiya. You’re Shinsou? Tokoyami’s friend? He’s mentioned you before. All good things.” You smile as you slide the drink over.

And Shinsou looks back at you like you’ve got two heads. Or like you’re the most shocking thing he’s ever seen in your life. You step back a bit, slightly nervous at the shocked expression on his face.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, your smile falling a little.

“No. I mean yes! It’s-“

And it’s as he’s stuttering through his words you hear it. That voice. That same deep, smooth voice you’ve been flirting with over the phone. And you’re sure your face now looks like Shinsou is the most shocking thing you’ve ever seen in your life. Your face heats up and he doesn’t look shocked for much longer because that same unfairly attractive smirk graces his face.

He leans forward slightly. “Is this submission girl in the flesh?”

“Oh my god. IT guy?”

His smirk widens into a grin. “I go by Shinsou, but. You can call me that too.”

You roll your eyes to the side but you can’t help but keep them on him, an incredulous look on your face. “You were worried for us to meet? You’re fucking hot.” You say.

And he looks even better when the tops of his cheeks dust the slightest red. You smile, leaning forward on the counter.

“Thank you. And you’re beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Even in my gross work apron?”

“Especially in your gross apron, sweetheart.”

You feel like giggling like you’re fourteen with a crush again. You brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“You’re not working tonight, right?” You ask.

He shakes his head and purple locks of hair dance around his face. Slender fingers grab the cup and take a sip.

“Perfect. We’re going out.”

Shinsou tilts his head to the side. “Shouldn’t I be asking you out? Seems much more traditional that way.”

“We met on our uni's customer service number. I don’t think anything about this is traditional.”

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guys i LAAAAUUUVVVVV shinsou and like he does not get enough attention or love or fics....... it makes me wanna scream

also this nearly took a steamy turn... with that cellular device.... but i did not because i cba

also i noticed that jason todd fics do so wel compared to my other stuff?? maybe cause hes not as popular but i will keep that in mind my people.

i hope u all enjoyed this! <3

#oneshot #fluff #b3ach bunn7 #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #mha #mha shinsou #mha shinso hitoshi #bnha #bnha shinsou

122 notes · View notes

slut4hee · 17 hours ago

Text

Prize Possession

{Paring: Club Owner Jeong Yunho x Blk Stripper Fem! Reader

{Genre: pure dirty smut, strip club au, mafia au, a little angst, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: You’re just a small town girl, who’s never had it easy in life. That’s until you started working at the Sparkle City nightclub, where you meet Jeong Yunho one of the most richest and dangerous mafia bosses in the city.

{Warnings: explicit scenes, rough sex, unprotected sex, (wrap it, before you tap it), creampie, choking, big dick yunho!!backshots, missionary (with the silver chain hanging yup teehee), fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, breeding dirty talk, pet names, Yunho is nasty nasty, mentions of murders, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed anything bookies<33

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“FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT” You shouted at your good for nothing ex boyfriend. You had just caught him cheating in your shared bedroom, sleeping around with the bitch he clearly told you not to worry about. You should have seen this coming though, all the late nights in, the constant excuses on why he always smelled like another women’s perfume.

You were so over his all his bullshit, all the lies, and all the sleepless nights you cried yourself to sleep, you were truly done. Tears streamed down your face, as you tugged your heavy luggage down the steps of the apartment complex, but you weren’t crying of a broken heart, it was tears of exhaustion.

You were already so numb to the pain you’ve been through in your life, that something like cheating was so minor to you. The only thing running through your mind is where you would lay your head tonight, you were broke as fuck, only 200 to your name which was not enough to get you by for the remaining of the week.

“Fuck this shit, I can’t believe I let myself go through that shit for so long” You said to yourself, as you set on the curve of the road, laying out your options and contemplating what the hell you were going to do. You could check yourself into a motel for tonight, but that would only get you by for the night, plus that would take all you have.

You pulled out your phone, opening up your contact list and scrolling down, until you stopped at your best friend’s contact name. Your finger hovered over the screen, as you contemplated whether you should call her or not, you genuinely didn’t want to bother her but she was the only person you could call.

You didn’t have your parents, your mom died when you were only thirteen years old, and when that happened your father also lost himself, turning to alcohol and drugs. You finally said fuck it and dialed her number, and after three rings she picked up the call.

“What’s up girl, let me guess that motherfucker ain’t came home yet?” Your best friend Nini asked, you could tell she wasn’t home by the loud music playing in the back, she must be at work.

“Hey Ni girl, I just caught his bitch ass cheating on me, with the bitch from down the street” You sighed, disgusted with yourself to even call that pig your ex boyfriend.

“Noo, are you serious right now, with that hoe Makayla or whatever the fuck her name is” Nini said in disbelief, you shivered as you started to feel your body getting cold by the late night breeze, reminding yourself that you were currently homeless.

“So where are you now love bug?” Nini inquired, you bit your lip nervously, hesitant to tell her that you have no where to go, but Nini would never judge you so you just let her know straight up.

“Bitch I’m on the curve of the road right now, I don’t have nowhere to go Ni” You said, you were genuinely so embarrassed to tell your best friend that, feeling the tears starting to prick at your waterlines.

“Oh my god girl, why are you just hanging out by the side of the road this late at night, are you crazy? I tell you what, I’m gonna get you a ride to my spot and you can crash as long as you want okay?” Nini said, you fought back your tears before thanking her and telling her much you appreciated her, without Nini you don’t know where you would be right now.

Not long after the Uber had picked you up from your shitty little town, and brought you to Nini’s high rise apartment in the city. Nini was a stripper, so she could afford to live like this, you on the other hand was barely making it. Some parts of you thought about becoming a stripper, but you just weren’t that type of girl, no judgement though especially to your best friend. But honest truth, you couldn’t see yourself becoming a stripper.

Oh so you thought….

⋆˚࿔

Nini wasn’t going to be home until later on tonight, she was working a late night shift, so she just gave you the passcode to her apartment and told you to make yourself at home. Her apartment was so spacious and luxurious, you hope one day you could call a place like this your home as well.

You sat your stuff down as you settled in, it was a two bedroom apartment, so you obviously took the guest room. Your stomach growled, reminding you that you haven’t eaten a single thing, since this morning. You thought the least you could do is buy you and your bestie food, so you settled on ordering Chinese takeout.

It was around 2 in the morning when you finally heard the keypad buttons being pressed, indicating Nini was finally home. You were already lounging on the couch, so you greeted her when she came in.

“Hey girl, so good to see you boo, long day at work?” You stood up from the couch, walking over to her and embracing her in a tight hug. She returned your hug with a little snuggle in your neck, sighing exhaustingly.

“Yes girl, we were packed tonight, we have this deal on the weekends, where you can get a free lap dance if you drop a band tip” She said tiredly, spotting the takeout boxes and helping herself to it.

“I’m guessing you had a lot of request huh?” You said cheeky, winking at her playfully. She rolled her eyes at your childishness, stuffing her face like she hasn’t eaten in days.

“Not to bring it up again, but I can’t believe that little ass boy played you like that” She said muffled, the food still being stuffed in her mouth. You sighed and rolled your eyes, before plopping back down on the couch.

“Yeah girl same, but it’s whatever fuck him, I’m done playing with little boys like him, who claim they’re real men when they’re not. All I’m thinking about is finding another job” You said, you had recently quit your other job, because it just got too stressful for you.

“How about you come work with me at Sparkle City?” Nini said a little hesitantly, she’s brought it up to you before, but of course you shot her down, so of course she expected the same response.

You started to actually think real hard about it, I mean could it really be that bad, I mean your best does it so it couldn’t be that big of a deal.

“I don’t know about that Ni, I mean do I even meet the requirements, plus you know how I feel about putting my body on display” You said, and quickly apologizing after, you didn’t want it to sound like an insult but Nini never took offense she knew you didn’t mean any harm.

“Just think about it baby, you’ll be making hella bank like me, plus with a body like that you’ll for sure make a killing” Your best friend reassured you, she’s always hyping you up, when you start to feel insecure or belittle yourself. But she knew it was caused by trauma, you went through in your past.

“I tell you what, come with me to work tomorrow night, and just check the place out to see if it would be something you’re up for” She said understandably, you nodded before going back to thinking real hard about her offer, you honestly loved the idea of making tons of cash, and being able to take good care of yourself because you fucking deserved it.

⋆˚࿔

The day went by fast and it was time for Nini to go to work, you don’t know why you were so nervous, it’s not like you’ve never been to a strip club before. But you guess, it was because this was possibly going to be your new job now. You and Nini got ready, and headed to Sparkle City, one of the most famous nightclubs in the city.

When you walked inside the club, you were immediately hit with different fumes of smells, some smelling of weed, alcohol, sweat, and different scents of perfumes and colognes. The club was actually really nice, the lights dim with a shade of purple, and the vibes of the place gave off a vintage yet modern style.

“ I have to go get ready, I just got word that one of my regulars are here, aka the one who literally pays all my bills” She stuck her tongue out playfully at you, before disappearing in the back. You on the other hand, you made your way over to the bar, ordering a drink you could barely afford, and taking in the scenery of the place.

As you’re sipping on your drink, you couldn’t help but get the feeling someone’s staring at you. You turned around, to check your surroundings, and that’s when your eyes landed on him. A South Korean gentleman, tall and handsome with an aura that was so intimidating.

His gaze was intense yet, nonchalant as a little smirk was plastered across his face. You tried to look away but it’s like you were paralyzed, you couldn’t move a muscle. That’s when someone finally knocked you out of trance, another handsome gentleman, but not as handsome as Mr tall and mysterious.

“What’s a pretty girl like yourself, sitting here all alone by herself for?” The man inquired, taking a seat next to you.

“I’m just enjoying the vibes” You simply said, taking another sip of your drink. You don’t know why, but you found yourself looking back over at the tall gentleman’s direction, his gaze still on you, but this time his smirk was a lot more noticeable almost amusing as he raised an eyebrow at you.

The guy next to you offered to buy you a drink and of course you took the offer, I mean who were you to turn down free drinks. The whole time you kept stealing glances at the tall handsome man, even though he was accompanied by two beautiful women on his lap, his attention was solely focused on you.

Suddenly he whispered something to the two women in their ears, before they got up from his lap and dismissed themselves. His eyes never left yours, in fact it’s like he called you over without exchanging any words or gestures. You just found yourself getting up from your seat, and making your way over to his section, totally ignoring the other guy asking where are you going.

Now that you were up closer, you could finally make out just how fucking sexy he was, his sliver hair, and lips plump and pink. His eyes were so pretty and intriguing, and don’t even get you started on his style, dressed in all black paired with a whole bunch of jewelry, you could tell he was rich.

“What took you so long baby, kept staring at me but kept me waiting so long” His deep voice caused shivers to run down your spine, fuck this man was going to be the death of you already, and you didn’t even fucking know him.

“Correction sir, you were staring at me” You said, trying to sound confident but your voice wavered a bit, he was making you so nervous and imitated. He let out a little chuckle, and fuck was it the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard, you were ready to drop your panties then and there.

“You stared back sweetheart, I guess we’re both guilty” He said softly, smirking at you with that fucking look, god he’s so fine you thought, if it meant he came to this club all the time, then who’s the person you need to see to apply!

“Are you here all alone baby girl?” He suddenly asked, tilting his head to side, as he checked you out from head to toe, waiting for your answer. You bit your lip nervously, before answering his question.

“No, my friend strips here, I’m just tagging along” You simply said, subconsciously scooting closer to him. He noticed, and smiled before scooting himself closer as well, and at this point you’re almost in his lap.

“Who’s your friend? And I haven’t seen you around here before, are you thinking about working here as well?” He inquired, placing his hand on your thigh, just resting it there but to you it was setting you off, heat rushing to your cheeks and core. His hands were so big, you could imagine how they would feel wrapped your ne-

“Hmm?” He hummed, knocking you out of your dirty thoughts.

“Oh um, her name is Nini, and yes I’m thinking about stripping here” You said a little hesitantly, you didn’t really feel too great giving out your best friend’s name, and telling a complete sexy stranger your plans of applying to work here, but it’s like you were under some spell just by the look in his eyes.

“Mmm I see, first time stripper eh?” He said, voice so deep but smooth like butter. You raised your eyebrow at him, how did he know you never stripped before.

“And how would you know I’ve never stripped before, I could be a pro you know” You said matter of fact, he chuckled softly again, shaking his head at your cuteness. Of course he could tell you were a beginner, just be the way you looked so tense.

“I just can tell mama, definitely don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, are you sure you want to step into this lifestyle? It can get pretty dangerous in this territory” He leaned over to you and whispered those words in your ear. You felt a chill run down your spine, both from being turned on by his hot breath on your neck, and the meaning behind his words.

“I’m a big girl I can take it, thank you very much” You replied, trying to sound tough and confident as possible. He just smirked and chuckled at you, before getting up from the velvet couch.

“Then I hope to see your pretty face around here then, I could get used to that you know” He simply said, before sparing you one last look, as he disappeared somewhere in the club. You don’t know why, but his words laid heavy on your conscious, did he know something? Who was he? why did he seem so informed with everything?

The night came to an end, and you ended up putting in an application and getting interviewed by one of the staff members, he was another South Korean gentleman, long black silky hair, and fine fine. He told you that they would get back to you, after your background check comes back clean and that would decide if you get hired or not.

Two days had passed and you finally got a call back saying your background check came back clean, and you were hired. You were happy you got the job, but you were super nervous, you didn’t really know how to work the pole and you didn’t even know how everything’s supposed to work.

Luckily you had Nini, she’s been stripping since she was 19, and she’s definitely a pro. She has a pole in her room, so she allowed you to practice with it, and honestly you’ve always been a fast learner, so you learned the basics pretty quickly.

Friday night came fast, it was officially your first day as a dancer, and you were anxious as fuck. Nini was a good support system though, making sure you were okay, showing you around the locker room and laying down the important rules that applied to the dancers.

“So what color are you going to wear for your first session, red always looks good on you boo” Nini said, as she applied her makeup. You smiled at her, before holding up both the red and the pink to your naked body in the mirror, as you contemplated on what color you should wear.

You decided on red of course, it just brought out your skin tone, pretty smooth brown skin, in red lingerie. You couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable though, the outfit you were wearing was nothing but provocative, a thin little lace thong and a red corset top. You did look so good though, titties sitting up nicely in your top, and your plump ass on full display.

Finally it was your turn to go on stage, and you started to freak out a little. You swallowed your nerves down the best way you could, before making your way to the stage, your six inch heels clicking as you walked. You hoped that they would play a song that you knew, just to make it easier for you to move to the beat.

Luckily for you, they were playing The Party & The After Party by The Weekend, one of your favorite songs and something slow you could work with. As the song played, you got lost in the music, swaying your curvy hips as you rolled your body down the silver pole

You could feel all the attention on you and honestly it felt good, which was a feeling you didn’t expect to feel, money and praise being thrown at you, as you moved your ass left to right. Finally you looked out to the crowd, and that’s when you laid eyes on none other than the gentleman before.

He had the same exact piercing gaze, but this time it was different, his eyes were dark with lust, hunger, and curiosity. You played along as you kept eye contact with him, bending over on the pole, as you wiggled your ass nicely. He shifted in his seat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and if you weren’t seeing things, he mumbled a curse under his breath.

Your dance came to an end, and your made your way backstage, where Nini and some the other girls complimented you on your first dance.

“Damn girl, if I was a man I’ll definitely be hard as a rock right now” one of the other strippers, Lala said. You giggled at her comment, and thanked her.

“No seriously, you did an amazing job sweets, even Mr Jeong came to watch your first performance” Nini said, you looked at her confused, and she snorted, she totally forgot to run that by you about who the boss is, literally the most important part.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot to tell you about who runs this place, so his name is Jeong Yunho, he’s the owner of Sparkle City, he’s also know as Black Demon. One of the most dangerous and feared men in the city” Nini said with no hesitation, meanwhile you’re about to have a panic attack, what do you mean you’re working for a mafia boss?!

You’ve heard of the name Black Demon, even back in your small city, you remember reading about all the possible murders, that are all supposed to link back to him. That brings you back to the night that gentleman said those words to you, and now you knew just what he meant.

“How does he look, is he some creepy old Italian guy, who walks with a cane” You said seriously, but all the others laughed at your remark.

“No silly, he’s actually pretty young and handsome, but he’s really tall, like tall tall and he’s Korean. Oh, and he has silver hair” Nini said nonchalantly, your eyes widened as you registered her words, the gentleman you met at the club the other night, was the owner of this nightclub and he’s in the fucking mafia.

You quickly pulled Nini to side, whispering shouting at her, about why she didn’t let you know beforehand that you were going to working under a criminal.

“You could have at least told me, what I was getting myself into girl, what if something was to happen here” You said, you weren’t really upset, just a little terrified of the possibility of danger here.

“I didn’t think you would mind, plus what type of people do you think run these types of places, CEOs and government workers?” She said sarcastically, you rolled your eyes at her scoffed.

“No, but maybe just regular people, not deadly killers like him, do you know how many people he’s had killed” you exclaimed a little to loud for Nini’s liking, she quickly grabbed you by the arm, shushing you and taking you somewhere more secluded.

“Fuck Y/n, you can’t just be saying shit like that here, you really gotta watch what comes out of your mouth around here. If that shit gets back to Mr Yunho, both of heads will be on a sliver platter” She said with all seriousness, no hint of playfulness in her tone. You felt an eerie chill run down your spine, as you nodded in agreement.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, you had two dances the whole night, and just from those two performances alone you made $500 In total, that would have took you two weeks to make at a regular 9-5, but with stripping you made it in just a day.

You could definitely get used to this lifestyle, continuous money showers raining down on you, all from that shaking a little ass, and popping a titty? It was simply so easy. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t on edge the whole time though, the new found information you got from Nini, was all starting to make sense.

You actually took time, to really look around the place, and it was all so obvious. Men dressed in all black suits, with guns on their hips, and the rule of not being all to enter the boss’s office without permission. You could also tell drug deals goes on here, a bunch of corporate executives and CEO’s, disappearing into the secret room, only to come out looking high out their minds.

Finally your long shift ended, and your feet were killing you, you don’t how these girls around here lasted everyday wearing these tall ass heels. You gave the club their percentage, and took the rest for yourself. You threw back on your regular clothes, and waited for Nini, to get finished with her private session, she was one of the popular dancers, so she had a lot of rich ass regulars that always came and spent hella money for a private lap dance.

You decide to reward yourself with a nice little drink, the fruity alcoholic beverage hitting the spot after a long day of standing on your feet. As you’re enjoying your drink, you felt someone tap you on the shoulder, and that’s when you turned around and you were faced with the same man who interviewed for the job.

“Miss Y/n, the boss has requested your presence to his office” The man simply said, his stone cold expression giving you chills, your heart started to beat out of your chest, why did Mr Jeong want to see you? Were you in trouble? Are you going to die? Did someone overhear you and Nini’s conversation from earlier.

All those thoughts started to run through your head at once, as you nervously nodded your head, and stood from your seat following him into the back of the club. Your palms were so sweaty, and your legs wobbled slightly as you walked, were you about to die? He led you down a long vintage looking hallway, stopping two tall double doors.

“You may enter, boss is waiting for you inside” The man said, before turning away from you, and standing by the door like a statute. You assumed he was one of Yunho’s men. Your hands were shaky, as you hesitated to push the doors open, you didn’t know what you were about to face and it scared the living hell out of you.

Finally you pushd the doors open, and you were hit with a faint smell of an incense burning, his office was more like a lounge, vintage furnished and expensive chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. There was even a pole in the middle of the room, and not to mention, the big liquor cabinet, with tons of expensive glasses and brown liquor.

You made your way around the corner, and there he was, lounging on the couch as held one of the expensive looking glasses in his hand, half full of some type of brown liquor. He was clad in a black button down shirt, with some of buttons opened to see his chest, and black slacks that showed the outline of his skinny waist.

“Y-you wanted to see me sir?” You stuttered, barely managing to get your words out. He grinned softly, as he twirled the brown sustenance around in his cup.

“Would you like to have a drink with me” He said softly, gesturing you towards the spot next to him on the couch. You managed to walk over and take a seat next to him, your legs felt stiff, like they were going to give out on you any minute.

He grabbed you a glass off the table and poured bourbon whiskey inside of it. You’ve never had whiskey before, it was way too expensive to buy, but he had a whole case full of it.

“I hope you don’t mind taking whiskey, it’s the only thing I drink” He said, staring deep into your eyes as he handed you the drink.

“I’ve never had whiskey before, but all about trying new things” You said before, holding the glass up to your nose and smelling it. The scent was strong, and you could tell it was going to burn your throat, but being a pussy was not in your nature. Yunho watched you carefully the whole time, watching as you down the shot of whiskey.

And just how you imagined, the brown liquor burned the hell out of your throat, your eyes watering like hell. Yunho smirked at you in amusement, you were an intriguing little thing, taking a whiskey neat shot like a champ, he was so turned on by you.

You cleared your throat before breaking the silence, the room was starting to grow hot, the tension in the room was beginning to feel overwhelming.

“I didn’t know you owned this club” You said carefully, trying not to make full eye contact with him, his presence was so dangerous for you, his aura was addicting and you were eating it all up. You’ve never felt so weak for a man, like you do for Yunho, he makes you want to submit to him, makes you want to serve him like he’s your master.

“You seemed like a smart girl, thought you would’ve been able to read between lines bunny” He said, voice husky and slightly raspy from drinking the whiskey, you fought to keep your composure, your things starting to rub together at the nicknames he was giving you.

You swallowed your hard, not trusting your own voice to say another word, you just looked around timidly, waiting to see what his motive was. And that’s when he said that…

“Dance for me” He suddenly said, staring at you with an unreadable expression, your eyes widened as you stared back at him in shock. Did he really just ask you to dance for him?

“Y-you want me to dance for you?” You repeated, starting to squirm nervously in your seat. He simply nodded, biting his bottom lip, as he laid his back against the couch, relaxing his shoulders. You sat there in silence at first, trying to process everything at once, it’s not like you could tell him no, Could you tell him no? You thought to yourself as you pondered and pondered.

“I want you to repeat the same dance you did earlier, but this time can we make it a little bit more interesting shall we?” He smirked, taking another shot of whiskey, you could tell he was tipsy by the way his pupils were now blown out and glassy.

“Make it interesting how?” You inquired, anxiously fiddling with your fingers. He grabbed a small black remote, dimming the lights of the room changing it to the same shade of red like you had for your stage dance.

“Do it naked, just for me” He replied, you almost choked on your own spit, he wants you to dance naked for him, is he out of his mind?!

“I don’t think that’s appropriate sir, I can’t” You said, yes he was fine and yes he was a mafia leader, but you still had respect for yourself, or so you thought…

“You know baby, I don’t usually take to the dancers that work at my club, but you baby, you been driving me insane since I first laid eyes on you” He said, you do remember Nini telling you that Yunho never slept or interacted sexually with any of them, of course there were plenty of the girls who threw themselves at him, but he always turned them down.

“You’re telling me I’m special huh” You said, starting to feel less nervous and anxious because of his intriguing words.

“Yes, indeed you are baby girl, now be a good girl and get up there and dance for me” He smirked, as he poured himself another drink, waiting patiently for you to follow his orders. You got up from the couch, and made your way over to the pole. Yunho stared shamelessly at your ass, as it jiggled when you walked.

He pressed play on the music, and the beat of the song came through the speakers of the lounge. You started to slowly strip out of your clothes, luckily your regular clothes consisted of a pair of booty shorts and a lace crop top. You turned around and bent over, your ass facing him as you slowly eased out of your thong.

Yunho let out a quiet groan, shifting around in his seat, as he adjusted his legs. You could tell the effect you had on him, boy were you letting it go over your head, you swayed and rolled your body just like you did on stage, Yunho was watching so intently, taking another sip from his drink, as he enjoyed your dirty dancing.

You swirled around the pole, doing the tricks that Nini taught you, and then you hopped off the pole and made your way over to him. You stood right in front of him, as you shake your ass and danced provocatively. He spread his legs, and you took the hint now giving him a lap dance as you grind and twerk your ass in his lap.

You could feel how hard he was, cock straining painful through his slacks, begging for some sort of relief. As much as you loved and respected him for just watching and enjoying without touching, you wanted him to touch you, to feel his big strong hands on your body.

“Mmm touch me baby” You said, your pussy now leaking onto his slacks, you were so turned on from this, and so was he. He bit his lip harshly, before going to rub on your ass and waist, you were such a sinful sight.

“God fucking damnit, you’re making it difficult to resist you right now baby” He groaned, squeezing your asscheeks and spreading them apart to look at your wet glistening folds. You moaned softly, as he spread your pussy lips apart, to see how tight and small your hole is.

“Then don’t resist sir, take me please” You begged shamelessly, Yunho could feel his cock twitching in the confines of his boxers, it was not like him to fuck one of his dancers, but you weren’t just a dancer to him, you were the women he’s been searching for all along, he was so weak in the knees for you.

“Do you know what you’re asking for bunny, and who you are dealing with?” He hissed in pleasure, you full on dry humping him now, the friction from his clothed cock, turning you on to the max.

“I don’t care how dangerous you are, I don’t care that you are bad for me, I just w-wan you now” You whined, feeling yourself getting shamelessly close to your high, you were about to get off by dry humping him, it felt too fucking good to stop now. He halted your movements, and you let out a desperate whine, you thought he was rejecting you until he suddenly manhandled you into the couch.

“Fuck I can’t hold back anymore, can’t resist such a pretty little fucking slut like you darling, such a nasty little thing, about to make a mess all over my pants with that wet pussy” He groaned, spreading your asscheeks, before spitting directly on your pussy, and licking a strip of your pussy.

Your back arched, as you gripped the edges of the couch, the feeling of his wet long tongue was like no other, it’s been so long since you’ve had your pussy eaten, and Yunho just happened to be a fucking pro at it!

“Oh fuck, oh fuck please right there” You moaned shamelessly, he sucked and licked on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your whole body was trembling with pleasure, as you looked back at see his face buried beneath your asscheeks.

“Fuck mama, pussy taste so damn good, shit could eat your up all night” He said muffled, now tongue fucking your tight little hole, like it was his cock. You let out a pathetic scream, the band in your stomach threatening to snap any minute now, you couldn’t believe how fast he was about to make you come undone on his face.

“You gonna come on my face pretty thing, that’s right make a fucking mess on daddy’s face” He growled, sliding one of his digits inside your tight cunt. Your pussy clenched violently around his finger, you could feel this hot tingling feeling in your lower abdomen, you’ve never felt this feeling before and you knew you were about to cum so hard.

“Daddy! Oh my god I’m cumming” You whined loudly, the knot in your stomach finally coming unraveled, as you squirted your essence all over his face. Your legs were trembling, you were panting like crazy, and you felt so embarrassed squirting all over his face like that.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I was going to squirt” you said weakly, you were already so fucked out, but you guys were far from being done, you needed his big cock inside your greedy pussy.

“No don’t apologize for being a good girl for daddy, that was so fucking hot” He groaned, standing up from his knees, as he started to unbuckle his pants, dropping down to his ankles. The outline of his cock in his boxers was huge, you were definitely intimidated by his size but also so fucking turned on by it.

“Gonna let me fuck this tight pussy raw baby?” He grunted, freeing himself of out of the confines of his boxers, as his dick spring free, the top flushed red and leaking precum. You looked back at him and nodded eagerly, wiggling your ass to entice him. He groaned loudly, before rubbing his tip against your wet folds.

“Baby p-please, stick it in, need your cock so badly” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to feel his thick cock, rearranging your guts. He smacked your asscheek, and you yelped at the sting of it. Finally after what seemed like eternity, you felt his mushroom tip nudging your tight hole, your little pussy struggling to accommodate his massive size.

“Oh shit! Oh my god wait, too fucking big” You whined, pushing back at his stomach for him to give you a minute. He chuckled softly in amusement, landing a harsh smack to your asscheek, as he rubbed soothing circles on the same spot.

“You can take it bunny, remember your words, you’re big girl you can take it” He cooed, pushed your face into the couch, as he started to push his length inside your fluttering walls. The stretch was intense, it felt you were being split in half, if it wasn’t for how wet your pussy was, it would have been impossible to fit.

After a couple more pushes he was fully nestled inside you, standing still to let you adjust to his size, and you could feel his throbbing cock pulsating. He let out a deep groan, trying to hold himself back, from fucking into you roughly.

“Fuuuckk, this pussy so tight and warm, shit tell me when to move baby girl” He hissed, as your pussy clenched snugly around his length. Eventually the pain started to turn into pleasure, and you were ready for him to ruin you.

“You can move now daddy” You moaned, pushing your ass against his pelvis, wanting to feel him as deep as possible. He pulled almost out of your wet pussy, until he slammed back in, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

“Hnmphhhh, Ohh my god Yunho, your cock so fucking good” You moaned loudly, gripping onto the couch for dear life, as he starts to fuck into you. Yunho eyes rolled to back of his head, your pussy felt incredible around his cock, all tight and warm.

“Look at you, such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like a good little whore” He growled, setting a brutal pace, as he starts to beat your pussy in. The sounds of skin slapping echoed throughout the room, and you’re pretty sure his bodyguard could hear you getting your guts rearranged.

“Yes daddy, I’m your good little whore” You screamed out, as Yunho pulled you by the hair, forcing your body to lay flushed to his chest, as he pounds relentlessly into your weeping cunt.

“That’s right all fucking mines, nobody can fucking have you, you belong to me now understood?” He spat, as he manhandled your body to a different position, somehow not sliding out of you. You were now laying on your back, face to face with him, ad he hovered on top of you.

He barely gave you time to breathe, as starting to pound into you again. Your eye rolled to back of your head, and you screamed In silence, he was fucking the shit out of you, all you could do was lay there and take it like the good whore you are.

“Yunho! S-slow down, I’m going to cum again fuck” You whined, that same tingling feeling returning, as you neared your high for the 2nd time tonight. The sight of Yunho tall frame above your small one, rocking his hips back and forth, as his silver diamond chain dangled over your face.

“Fuck baby I’m not gonna last any longer, I wanna breed this pussy, stuff you full of my babies and ruin you for anyone who tried to take what’s mines” He said, you could barely hear what he was saying, your mind was in another dimension as he fucked you into an oblivion.

Like clockwork, he hit your pressure point, that spot inside you that makes everything feel fuzzy. Your legs were shaking violently, as he slammed into your g-spot over and over, and finally you felt the band snap in your stomach snap. You came hard around his dick, squirting and creaming like crazy.

He followed shorty after, letting out a guttural groan, as he emptied out his once full balls inside your spent cunt. His big body collapsed on the side of you, the both of you panting heavily, and trying to catch each other’s breath.

You could feel his cum oozing out of your abused hole, the feeling was so uncomfortable in the worst way. He got up from the couch, disappearing into the bathroom, and coming out with a box of tissues. You laid there weak, as you watched him wipe the remnants of his cum, that oozed out on your thighs and legs.

Your heart skipped a beat at that, normally you never received aftercare, not even your ex boyfriend took the time to do this for you. You couldn’t believe a stone cold killer like Yunho, was being sweet to you like this, you were whipped.

Finally he broke the silence, grabbed you by your waist and pulling you closer to him.

“I hope you didn’t think I was playing with you baby, you really belong to me now “ He said seriously, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You smiled like an idiot, snuggling your face into his neck.

“Good because I’m not going anywhere, I’m yours” You simply said, pecking him on his cheek, he locked eyes with you, and this time it wasn’t that unreadable stone cold expression. It was replaced with something more softer, love and warmth.

You knew what you were getting yourself into falling for a man like Jeong Yunho, but you didn’t care, you were in love with a criminal with no shame.

“𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨” 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝.

“𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐲𝐞𝐭” 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐝.

The End…

A/n: Someone pass me a cigarette real quick 🚬 😩 this is so toe curling, pussy popping good!!! I been wanting to release a fic about Yunho for so long and I finally did it😛 we cheered! Ladies and gentlemen I’m afraid this is a nasty one be prepared to change your sheets🫦 not proofreading shii🫶🏽

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Taglist:

@i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @kolawnk

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ilysungho · 3 days ago

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you did THE BEST writing the sub leehan drabble and i can't stop thinking about how ihan would be if he suddenly found out he had mommy kink...

as if you were touching him after he has been needing you all afternoon since he couldn't see you and as a result of the pleasure, out of nowhere he is calling you mommy and whining like a baby pleading for more

I think that even he would be surprised by what he says but he couldn't stop begging OH GOD IT DRIVES ME CRAZY RNNN I NEED IT

If you can do something like that I would really appreciate it 🥲🥲

pd: I really love your work, you are one of my favorite writers ily😭😭♡

a/n: you’re so sweet thank you so much for loving my work, it makes me so happy to hear that 🥹 honestly i’ve been warming up to mommy kinks (just jaehyun and taesan so far) so i tried… also this might've turned out to be way longer than intended so enjoy cutie 💗 wc: 1k contains: sub!leehan x dom!reader, implied switch!leehan, mommy kink leehan, marking, handjob, riding, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (don't!), creampie, lowercase intended

almost a month passed by without seeing your boyfriend around. practice ran late into the night, leehan just staying at the dorms for the time being. he had to be up early, barely getting any sleep, and had no time to talk to you. so when he was able to finally finish with performances, of course he clung to you like a baby koala.

you played with his hair while softly kissing the top of his head, leehan nuzzling into you under your touch. questions and answers about how life had been got exchanged, with him closing his eyes at your voice. he found comfort in the warmth of your tone, one that he missed the sound of so dearly. and as he started to feel sleepy, his answers eventually turned into mumbles of soft hmm-s and mhm-s.

at the lack of responses, you stopped practically interrogating him, instead resorting to kissing his face. your lips touched every part of him so softly as you faced him to show your love. he smiled his signature smile, the one where his eyes scrunch into crescents, resembling the moon in a beautiful night sky. as much as he loved to make you feel special, he loved to be taken care of. so he let you do as you wanted, to help him fill up on the love he'd been deprived of.

the kisses never stopped, trailing down to his jawline as your hands reached behind his back to rub it gently. he could feel every touch to his core, slowly but surely starting to get needy for you. it was when you kissed down his neck onto his sweet spot that he said it: “mommy…”

his voice was quiet by firm, but you let go of your position to stare at him. “what did you say?”

the sudden change in the atmosphere had the two of you confused but also… excited. he was never one to call you by said term, but at the moment it felt so right. but if you didn’t like it, then he just might’ve ruined the mood…

“n-nothing, don’t worry.” his embarrassed face came on as he tried to deny in, but you took his hand to intertwine your fingers. leaning down to kiss that spot once again, you muttered, “‘s ok, say whatever you wanna.”

the indirect acceptance of the new nickname had him going. to describe it, he felt like it was the only right term to use at the moment, and he surprisingly liked how it sounded out of his mouth. but you did have to get used to it, and what better way than to have him call you so for now?

your kissing turned into marking, leaving pink hues on the pale canvas. the tug of your teeth on his sensitive skin made him whimper, scared to call you by the name again. you kept going though, wanting to hear him call you so, sucking a bit harder to leave deeper reds.

“take your shirt off baby.” you got up to take your own shirt off, him following suit. he bit his lips as you pushed him back down on the bed, going back to marking his now revealed chest. your free hand moved up to his nipples, touching over them and causing him to gasp.

you looked up at him as your lips reached down to the other nipple, kissing around it. he nervously returned the eye contact, scared for what will happen next. your mouth wrapped around it now, licking and sucking on the new territory. this had leehan squirming under you, the sensitivity hitting him at once as he moaned out once again.

“mommy…” you smirked against his chest as you played with his nipples, something he’d always do when the roles were reversed. your continued attention on his sensitive buds had him whining under you until you let go, sitting up beside him.

“come put your head here, my good boy.” leehan gasped at the nickname as he watched you pat on your lap, inching closer to obey your order. he nervously watched as you raised an eyebrow and pushed down the bra cups to show your boobs, slightly leaning down for him. “now suck.”

his tongue immediately wrapped around your nipple, hands flying to engulf you in a hug. your one hand stayed on leehan’s hair to stroke it as your other removed the rest of his clothes for him. lying naked while sucking your boobs, your leehan looked really cute while being all desperate for you. you hummed out praises for him continuously while also stroking his dick now. and every now and then, leehan would let go to let out the softest yet most exasperated sighs accompanied by calling you mommy.

“you’re being such a good boy for mommy, hanie.” smiling down at him, he hid his face between your chest while nodding, blushing at how you called yourself so. your thumb slid across his slit, hissing following suit. fingers tangled in his blond locks as you slowly rubbed him, his throat now leaving moans of desperation freely. your boyfriend jerked against your hand as he sucked your nipples once again. all the shame and shyness left his body at this point, not caring what he did or said. and all he needed was you to take control.

"mommy please, i need more..." he moaned softly while continuing his actions. a hum followed, with you moving him to get up and on top of him. your sweet smile accompanied by your not-so-sweet actions made leehan squirm under you as you held onto his dick. the slick between the two of you formed quite enough to help him ease into you, causing both lovers to gasp in unison. you moved slowly at first, bottoming out every time before getting back up and going down on him once again.

leehan whimpered as he caught onto your hand, the pleasure getting to his emotions as his eyes teared up. any and every kind of sound erupted from his chest, louder than the previous as he begged you for more. he let out hymns of "faster please mommy," "please, harder mommy, please," "mommy please," "mommy, mommy, mommy!" until he came undone in you, his seed spilling out as you kept riding his pretty cock, which is just for his mommy.

#ilysungho #ilysh writes #ilysh leehan #boynextdoor hard hours #boynextdoor #boynextdoor hard thoughts #bnd x reader #bnd #bnd smut #boynextdoor smut #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor leehan #leehan #leehan boynextdoor #leehan smut #leehan x reader #leehan hard thoughts #leehan hard hours #leehan headcanons

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markrosewater · 23 hours ago

Note

I really love that magic is willing the experiment and I also love that yall are willing to go “oh man THAT didn’t work”. I think it’s worth having a few missed shots in exchange for all the awesome new stuff

I’m glad you appreciate it.

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haifoct · 21 hours ago

Text

Happy two months anniversary to Zhuo Yichen & Li Lun sex scene choke episode!

I wish I could say I was exaggerating or joking when I describe episode 23 of Fangs of Fortune as a sex scene between Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun.

And yet.

No other moment in the series comes close to the sheer intimacy and strange sexual tension of the brutal, unapologetic beating Li Lun puts Zhuo Yichen through.

You’re filled with worry, awe, and guilty excitement as you watch it all unfold; they ensure that hurricane of conflicting emotions sets in motion inside your tight chest because they build it up almost the same way cdramas build up their kissing scenes sex scenes.

To truly appreciate the beauty of episode 23, we need to revisit episodes 6, 16, and 19. Each of these episodes offers an attempt at a fight just the tip and a promise.

"But first, I need to kill you, an even more evil thing."

"I choose for you to die."

Our precious rabid puppy Zhuo Yichen never misses a chance to jump Li Lun like his life depends on it (perhaps it does). He has so much tempter, especially when it comes to Li Lun. Meanwhile, our precious Li Lun meets that aggression with… well?

In episode 6, Li Lun never truly fights Zhuo Yichen. Instead, he uses Ran Yi as both his blade and his shield before happily escaping, leaving everyone in shambles.

In episode 16, Li Lun mostly dodges Zhuo Yichen’s attacks. First, he stops Zhuo Yichen’s sword with just his fingers, then he seems determined to kill Pei Sijing right on the spot until Zhuo Yichen joins the fight to protect her. Li Lun’s usual cold and calm rage shifts into a cheeky smile, and another flirtatious promise leaps from his tongue.

"Zhuo Yichen, don’t forget. At the final moment, your Cloud Light Sword can kill him."

In episode 19… I have so much to say about this episode, actually, but almost none of it involves Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun. That said, I really enjoy Zhuo Yichen’s decision to stay after casting a glance at Li Lun’s domineering presence.

I just think they’re very pretty, look at them.

Zhu Yan and Zhuo Yichen barely let Li Lun breathe. Attack after attack, and yet none of the blades directed at him hurt as much as the words that pierce his heart. Zhu Yan sets Li Lun on fire again—normal people things—and the last words Li Lun utters before forever losing the human form he developed are a desperate promise and a plea.

"You will kill him one day. Kill Zhao Yuanzhou."

(Quick off topic, I love how troubled Zhuo Yichen looks when he learns about Li Lun literally burning alive, lol)

All those beautiful moments leading up to episode 23 shows us that Li Lun never wanted to kill or hurt Zhuo Yichen. He wanted Zhuo Yichen. As his companion in revenge against the one person who hurt them both.

Then episode 23 happens.

For happy shippers like myself, it literally starts with Wen Xiao losing her shit over Li Lun possessing Zhuo Yichen, with Li Lun's theme playing during Zhuo Yichen's entrance, and with Tian Jiarui speaking in the voice that Yan An is using for Li Lun. Truly a feast! But that’s not what we’re discussing here.

That damn fight, that damn sex scene.

The only way for me to describe it, it's so personal, and they don’t even know each other long enough to be personal.

Li Lun promises to Zhuo Yichen while also taunting him, so annoyed by this loud human screaming for Bai Jiu. Makes sure Zhuo Yichen knows it’s him, Li Lun who is s pinning him down into the ground, towering over his body, topping him, with hand on his throat.

"So noisy. Look closely. I'm not your Xiao Jiu. I'm Li Lun."

What the hell do I know about whether it was a spiteful remark, mirroring Zhuo Yichen’s promises, mocking him, provoking him, or if it was Li Lun’s cold and calm rage speaking, a grievance and pain within him, because this human he had been nothing but kind to dared to help Zhu Yan set him on fire again. Perhaps it was both; perhaps he meant it; perhaps he changed his mind later in the episode and refused to kill unconscious Zhuo Yichen, walking off and letting fate decide whether Zhuo Yichen lives. Perhaps he didn't, simply wanted Zhuo Yichen alive. (*turns him into a demon <3 bc fate can go and fuck itself i guess, Li Lun is fate.*)

The second Truth Eyes hit Zhuo Yichen’s, round, big, and determined eyes, he jumps Li Lun again like a rabid puppy, not a single fuck given about the simplest of truths that if he hurt’s Li Lun, he will hurt Xiao Jiu.

I cannot lie here. Despite my heart ripping itself apart for Zhuo Yichen, when his dearest friend, his dearest light, his dearest Cloud Light Sword gets broken—over and over again on each rewatch—there’s something so satisfying about watching Li Lun take this fight more seriously than in any of their previous encounters.

It is a gesture of goodwill to keep Zhuo Yichen alive. All those times before. This time? He will show this human his place, and make his pants creamy.

Li Lun not only physically tortures Zhuo Yichen but also psychologically when he breaks Cloud Light Sword in half with needles Bai Jiu carries around (Wouldn’t it be fun if those needles remained from the time when Bai Jiu was supposed to seal Zhu Yan’s touch?)

They're so gorgeous, what the hell?

What a fun human to toy with.

My thoughts get way too explicit after this, and I genuinely can’t find any heterosexual explanation for this.

I see your vision, insane director.

Make sure you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face.

I guess Li Lun likes to take Zhuo Yichen from behind.

and watch him struggle at the mercy of his hands as Zhuo Yichen desperately grabs onto them, while Li Lun is unable to resist looking at that unfairly pretty face, luxuriating in every change of emotion he chokes out of him. How beautiful Zhuo Yichen looks then, fighting for his and his dearest friend's life?

What sound does that divine statue make being knocked down, trampled, and trapped in dust? This desperate, fun human, will he get himself up? For his friend that believes in him, trusts him?

"Don't waste your effort. My inner core has been inside Bai Jiu's body for many days. My soul has already solidified, making it much stronger than Bai Jiu's. His soul is nothing but a weak ant compared to mine, which can be easily crushed by me."

I guess Li Lun, then, likes to turn all of Zhuo Yichen to look at his face, again; to have Zhuo Yichen look at him. So Zhuo Yichen comes knowing exactly who fucked him, or whatever Li Lun promised him earlier.

Listen.

There's a BTS clip of that iconic shot: of Li Lun hiding from those big, round, unyielding, and unafraid eyes by covering Zhuo Yichen's face with his giant hand, eclipsing the light; of Zhuo Yichen biting him, we all know it. And all I can do is wildly gesture at it, at their hands, and rest my case here.

I love Zhuo Yichen and Bai Jiu both biting into the wood to free themselves too much to not mention it again.

That hopeless wish to save Bai Jiu is the only thing that keeps encouraging Zhuo Yichen to fight against that demonic strength, that so very human body.

"Give Xiao Jiu back to me!"

"No. <3"

Humans and ants and divine statues are so amusing when they try to stand up as you crush them.

Letting Zhuo Yichen pierce his heart wasn’t even remotely part of Li Lun’s plans. What’s really fun to me here is disbelief and shock on both their faces. One offended, confused, and "How dare you kick Miette? Jail!"; the other confused, unwavering, hopeful.

By episode 23, have surely learned two things that cannot be argued with:

If you bite Li Lun, he will bite harder.

Li Lun doesn't want Zhuo Yichen dead.

That punch in the throat made me audibly gasp the first time I watched this episode. Then I held my breath and released a relieved sigh. Li Lun was satisfied with simply toying with that awfully loyal and fascinating human. Perhaps all Li Lun ever wanted from that fight was a chance to touch that divine statue.

Obviously, I must remind you that the sex scene fight between Zhuo Yichen and Li Lun, unfolds as Wen Xiao and Zhao Yuanzhou share their own adorable almost-kiss scene, full of 300 years of yearning. Just saying, FoF is a perfect C-drama formula with a main couple and a second couple.

Cannot wait for insane director to make some bitter and hilarious references, much like how he ridiculed those supporting Gong Shangjue and Shangguan Qian by making a satire on them in Fangs of Fortune. But this time in Veil of Shadows.

GJM kicks his feet and giggles like Wang Xingyue as he makes Yan An and Tian Jiarui hold hands on the set of Veil of Shadows. His ship has sailed.

And so has mine.

Happy lunchen sex scene day, yay!

#fangs of fortune #li lun #zhuo yichen #zhuo yichen and li lun you will always be famous.#perfect cdrama couples formula insane director likes #If I'm wrong you can come and call me an idiot I will take my L.

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chanranghaeys · 24 hours ago

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🐸 “come here, hold my hand.”

request from my og @tusswrites! "come here, hold my hand.” “you’re washing the dishes.” “…i can do both…” with minghao? please i love this man and I’ll crumble if he says this to me 😭

pairing: minghao x gn!reader word count: 1k+ genre: fluff, slice of life (HELLO IT'S ME) rating: pg tags: pure fluff, physical touch as the love language, mundane stuff, household chores, request prompted washing the dishes so you will have washing the dishes, i try to make up a song warnings: none

a/n: finally found the random inspiration for this drabble that ended up with more than 1k words. purely self-indulgent. bear with me. as someone who always washes the dishes, i want this. bow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Minghao is a strong believer in physical touch as a love language.

Popular media doesn’t showcase this all too well because of the image and concept that has been formed around him. Still, physical touch is the love language that remains superior in his opinion. This means being able to reach out to the other person and hold them in any manner, being in proximity to them to express how you feel, and being in the same room with each other regardless of what you are doing.

He says it’s about having something tangible to hold—tactile in his hand and palpable on his body—and how he appreciates having the people around him to physically ground his thoughts and dreams that can soar as high as the heavens allow. It reminds him that he doesn’t just have his rational mind anchoring him down but also something and someone to help make sense of things.

Minghao, contrary to popular belief then, is actually a very clingy person.

Words are not and will never be his strong suit. Yes, he can write. Yes, his words are like poetry, like water flowing through the rough in cascades of emotion, but they only come out when the cup is full. On a day-to-day basis, Minghao expresses his love which can be felt even through the slightest brush of hands.

This is a fact that you learned almost immediately.

He comes home, wordless, whether to his place or your place, and the first thing he does is go in for a hug. No matter where you are or what you are doing, he forces you to stop so he can hug you for who knows how long, deeply, fully, and wholeheartedly—not that half-assed wraparound from the side that people excuse for a hug.

It’s a habit he started during a particularly trying time in his life. He would pull you closer and engulf you in his arms, burying you in his scent as he buries himself in the crook of your neck or the crown of your head.

Naturally, during a particularly trying time in your life this time, you picked up his habit easily and did the same to him.

Scientific studies show that a 20-second hug is enough to release oxytocin that can lower stress levels and improve quality of life. Whatever the research says, you and Minghao do agree that this little practice has made your lives easier and more bearable than they used to be.

Recently though, you always end up missing each other at home. He would come home late nights and early mornings after schedules to find you sound asleep in your bed, while you would wake up a few hours later to his sleeping form recovering from the previous day’s demands. You’d come home one too many days to a space devoid of his comforting presence, and the same could be said for him.

It happens, you think. It’s absolutely normal. Being this busy just means that both your lives are taking a turn for the better, right?

But still, you miss him, despite coming home to each other every day. You miss the simple act of sharing your silence together and you miss the way his touches would simultaneously calm you down but also keep you on your toes.

Today, you couldn’t help but feel lonelier than usual as you set your jacket and bag down to be greeted by a dark apartment room. Based on his last message a few hours ago, Minghao was still in the studio practicing. He sent a selca with the other performance unit boys and you don’t deny how you stared at his sweaty hair and bare smiling face for a minute longer than you thought you did.

But you had a good day at work, where everything just worked out the way you wish every day would, and you absolutely will not let anything rain on your small moment of happiness. No, not even the mess of a room you left this morning and not the pile of dishes you didn't realize remained unwashed this morning.

So you turn on the speakers and press play on a song that has Minghao’s voice fill the empty space. It was one of his unreleased demos for his recent solo EP. It was a shame because this was your favorite from his endless roster of songs—a song where the lyrics talked about how the most mundane of moments could be the most special if you had your love’s hand to hold.

You started on the dishes and got lost in the process almost meditatively in the menial task. It was enough to startle you when you heard your name from behind you. You see him in fresh clothes and slightly damp hair, a clean scent emanating from his presence.

“When did you get home?” You asked in reply to your most favorite voice in the world.

“Just now,” Minghao instinctively reached out to latch onto your waist, easily letting your gravity pull him to you in your natural ritual of finding purchase in each other's nooks and crannies. As if you were two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly, he molds his body against yours with his chest flush to your back and his hands folding on the flat of your stomach.

He breathed in your scent and you felt his smile against your temple. Instantaneously, you relax against his touch as he says against your ear, “I missed you.”

You turn to find his lips, softly pressing yours against them and repeating his words to him. With a smile, you continue your reply with a melody to your voice. “Come here, hold my hand.”

You feel his chuckles with his cheek pressed on yours when he says, “But you’re washing the dishes.”

“I can do both.”

So he does, intertwining one of his hands with yours—albeit awkwardly—and helping you finish the chore in front of you. His soft giggles mingle with yours as you two find a rhythm to washing the dishes among four working hands.

You two stay in this position for a while with the song still playing in the background, the lyrics resounding as you sway in time with the rhythm.

“Come here, hold my hand, pull me in, and let me orbit around your gravity…”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: still from my little drabble request game and still accepting requests! all you gotta do is shoot an ask <3

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kewrnage · 2 days ago

Text

high infidelity

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ✶ ─── sylus had taught you to protect yourself from the things in the world, even from himself. that leads you questioning, doubting him.

pairings. sylus x fem! reader.

genre. sfw. angst. bad ending. surprise ending. bittersweet ending.

t. warnings. female reader. intelligent/smart reader. cheating. reader is not mc. slightly rushed ending. based on the card, night of secrecy. references to other cards like; abyssal mark and abyssal blossom. mephisto is our buddy, periodt. mystery ml in the ending.

word count. 5.3k

noir’s memoir. i’ve finally outdone my procrastination in writing, whoa. this is such a feat for my indecisive ass to stick to one idea. non mc reader because life with no drama in fiction is boringg. also tried to make sylus as annoying as possible 🙈

— plus, can my socmed feeds shut the fuck up with the night of secrecy card content because i feel like i just had a divorce with sylus, like the hell did i do to y'all?? 😭 jk. but i had to quit the game because i have no commitment to gacha games but enjoys being enraged in league lol.

— but i might open it again in summer after uni. 😩 your compliments and criticisms are appreciated tho! <3

— tagged y'all! in case i missed yours, pm me and i'll write your username on the tag list. pls don't hesitate to approach me! 🙏🏻

"Do you love me?" You'd ask, the words a familiar melody between you, a question that whispered on the wind of your shared intimacy. Each time, it seemed to brush away the dust of doubt, leaving only a lingering warmth in its wake.

You'd feel his rough hand, calloused from battles, graze your skin, a silent affirmation of his devotion. He loved every inch of you, flaws and all, your beauty, a canvas he cherished, a masterpiece in his eyes.

His thumb traced a path across textures of your skin clears any hint of insecurity within you as he paid no mind in those details, a touch that also spoke volumes of his affection.

Love. Almost three years ago since you have felt the romantic one aside from your family and friends, is when you met Sylus. Not only have you experienced it, but you learned things that have never entered your mind before.

He taught you things you didn't know. Baking, a little bit of programming- it wasn't easy, but love has the power to turn surrenders into miracles.

You somehow one day learned how to program Mephisto, because that mechanical crow is one of the little things that are part of him- that also you insisted on him to advise you.

There were many more lessons, such as when his knuckles scooted forward into the wind with force, eventually meeting your palm as your fingers enclosing his hand and he smiled proudly, his eyes reflecting the joy of that moment of that spar.

Or when he had a way of dealing with your emotional outbursts. One brush of his hand soothes your seething ardor towards frustration.

He would tell you to breathe in and out, He'd whisper, "Breathe in, breathe out," his voice like a soothing balm. You learned, slowly but surely, to think before reacting, to find calm amidst the chaos. He was intimidating, his red eyes like a blood moon, yet he was an angel you could turn to for guidance, a safe haven where judgment never crossed his mind.

After all, love isn't just all about affection, it is a journey and a path to clarity.

He surprised you one day with a statement that chipped away at your unwavering admiration. "I needed to teach you those things to protect you," he said, his voice low and tender. "From things, sweetie. Even from myself." The words were unexpected, unsettling even.

He usually spoke with a sense of calm certainty, but there was a lingering smirk on his lips, a hint of longing that you couldn't quite comprehend. It was a longing that made you wonder what secrets lurked beneath his unwavering presence.

Yet lately, his answer to that question was, "Of course, sweetie." Was his response before he left you in your bed, for a business rendezvous, he said.

Just like countless other days. The words were there, but the tone of his voice was flat, the warmth missing. It was as if he was going through the motions, his answer a hollow echo of his usual sentiment. The unease gnawed at you. Was it your mind playing tricks, conjuring up worries where there were none? Perhaps.

But these feelings weren't fleeting moments of anxiety. They had settled deep within you, a persistent unease that had lingered for almost a month. Something had changed, you were sure of it.

The piles of unanswered calls and unread texts served as a constant reminder of his transformation, a stark contrast to the man you once knew. Each unanswered call, each unreturned message, confirmation that he had hidden agendas he's unable to tell you.

It was difficult to push him from your thoughts despite his growing distance, his newfound frigidity. He was the one who'd always been there for you, a constant in your life, a safe harbor amidst your storms. He'd made sure that your comfort zone wouldn't crumble, that the cracks in your facade wouldn't widen into gaping wounds.

He’d bandaged your anxieties, reassured you of his love, trying to make sure that your heart, so fragile, wouldn’t ever break. But now, with each passing day, those bandages seemed to be loosening, and the wounds that had been so meticulously concealed began to bleed through.

Love takes many forms, including distraction, not to be confused with destruction.

The unraveling of your comfort zone forced a forgotten lesson back to the forefront of your mind. You had to know the truth. It wasn't easy. The path ahead was bound to be rocky, riddled with doubts and uncertainties, but you had to find your way, even if it meant facing the inevitable verdict you so desperately hoped was false.

Love had a way of clouding judgment, blinding a person to the cracks that were beginning to appear. He thought that massive alterations to Mephisto would go unnoticed, but you noticed.

You noticed the crow's new commands were convoluted as you tried to decipher its new system, its obedience reserved only for its Onichynus master. It was as if he’d put two steps between you, but you weren't one to be outsmarted.

You saved up, pooling your resources, and bought two small, unobtrusive tracking devices. It was a small step, a ripple in a sea of uncertainty, but it was a step nonetheless.

You gambled one day, a desperate act fueled by an insatiable hunger for truth. It was a risky play, a leap of faith, but you had to know. You began to wrap a collar around Mephisto’s neck, the mechanical bird squawking and thrashing in protest, its wings a blur of metal and feathers.

It was a struggle, a desperate dance of resistance, but with the help of your faithful butler, you secured Mephisto in your grasp. You felt a pang of guilt, you'd grown fond of the bird, but the truth, the need for answers, outweighed your remorse, but you can barely handle Mephisto's saddened, quiet caws as he grew fond of you as well.

You didn't know what sorcery Mephisto can sometimes able to feel on his own, nonetheless, it was a sacrifice you had to make in the name of love and the pursuit of truth.

With the leash secured firmly to the edge of your desk, you plunged the room into dim light, a measure to protect the camera from unwanted attention. Then, you turned to your butler, a man of technical prowess, the one who’d always understood the intricacies of Mephisto’s mechanisms. With steady hands, he began the delicate process of disassembly.

With the practiced hands of a seasoned craftsman, your butler begins. The silver cog atop its head, a key to its mobility, must be carefully detached. The delicate wires leading from it, intricately woven like a spider's web, must be disconnected, halting the flow of energy that animates its movements and vision.

It had been some time since that night, yet the memory remained vivid, etched into your mind like a scar. Now, you sat on the couch, your limbs restless, unable to find solace in the familiar comfort of your home. Sylus's actions, his growing distance, his secretive behavior, all gnawed at your mind.

You weren't sure what to think. Mephisto rarely visited you anymore, but sometimes, in a fleeting glimpse of its little figure from the sky, you'd catch sight of him, the collar you’d placed around his neck gone.

You knew, somehow, that Sylus had removed it. The knowledge made your teeth clench. Your doubts grew stronger, fueled by the certainty that he was hiding something.

But luckily, your butler managed to insert the other small tracking device inside Mephisto when the crow was dissected- as you anticipated your lover's potential actions. It was cleverly disguised, blending seamlessly with the crow's black metallic interior, just in case Sylus was trying to take a glimpse inside as well.

He thought he'd completely erased any trace of your sleuthing, but you always had a backup plan. He'd underestimated you, perhaps a mistake born from teaching you to be just as sly as him.

You sighed, a breath of grim determination, and unlocked your phone once more. The map glowed with Mephisto's location, a bright red circle on a backdrop of digital darkness.

The tracker, a nigh-perfect beacon. Dread, anticipation, determination, and anxiety—a cocktail that made your steps wary, every step made you so hesitant. You raced out of your lavish house, into the night, and into your car, following Mephisto's trail, the glowing red circle leading you deeper into the mystery.

Your car zipped past the city lights, the rush of wind against your face a testament to your mounting impatience. You were close, the revelation looming like a storm cloud on the horizon. The building came into view: an architectural masterpiece, a testament to opulence as you parked— it could be Mephisto perched on here somewhere.

Those elegant golden lights illuminating its windows and intricate designs adorning its exterior. As you entered, the grandeur of the interior, even more breathtaking than its exterior, momentarily stole your breath.

But this was not a time for sightseeing, for reveling in luxurious aesthetics. You were here for a different kind of revelation, one that could shatter your world. And for that, you couldn’t afford to draw attention to yourself.

You braced yourself, put on a mask of composure before approaching the reception desk. You couldn't let anyone see the turmoil within, the fear, the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm you. "May I ask something, ma'am?" you inquired, your voice attempting nonchalance, though its slight tremor betrayed your façade.

The receptionist, a charming woman with a smile that could lure you into a sales pitch, smiled warmly. "Yes, how may I help you, young lady?" she inquired, mistaking your bundle of nerves for being shy.

A wave of relief washed over you. "May I know if a man named Sylus is currently staying here?" you asked. It was a simple question, but it held the weight of your anxieties, the culmination of your fears and suspicions.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering slightly as she noted the urgency in your voice. But she was a professional, and she quickly recovered, her smile returning. "One sec, miss," she chirped, leaning over the counter to slide open a drawer. She pulled out a logbook, its pages filled with names and dates, and began to search, her eyes scanning quickly for Sylus's name.

The receptionist's eyes scanned the logbook, her finger tracing the lines of names, dates, and numbers. Finally, her finger paused, a smile lighting up her face. "He's on the fifth floor, young lady," she said, her voice warm and helpful. "Room 506. You can find this person on one of the doors." She handed the duplicate of the room's key to you.

A shimmer of hope ignited within you. "Thank you so much," you murmured, your heart swelling with a rush of emotion.

You bowed to the reception desk, then, with a swift move, placed a small bill on the counter. The receptionist’s eyes widened in surprise. She had been happy to help, but this small token of appreciation was unexpected, a pleasant surprise. You couldn't have imagined a quicker, smoother retrieval of information.

The elevator hummed its silent ascent, a slow, steady climb that seemed to amplify your anxieties. The brief wave of relief you'd felt at the reception desk dissipated, replaced by a chilling dread. Each floor you passed seemed to deepen the shadows, casting a foreboding weight on your shoulders. As the elevator doors slid open, revealing the fifth floor corridor, your heart hammered in your chest.

You moved slowly, cautiously, until you reached the door you were seeking. An oblong golden plaque, embossed with the number 506, confirmed the location. You braced yourself, your fingers trembling as they reached for the knob as you unlocked it and hiding the key to your pocket, a silent twist that opened the door, a secret whisper in the symphony of this opulent space.

The once blurring luminescence of the white in seconds as you opened the door you take it in, blurring your irises in seconds until the path ahead becomes clearer. You take a silent stroll to mask your presence and make the dangers of the room unaware. You passed through a couch and several pieces of furniture until you stopped in front of a bed- but you kept your distance a few feet away.

The sight that greeted you made your anger and despair collide, a violent storm of emotions that weakened your legs, the blood draining from your face.

Sylus was there, sitting with his back to you, his arms wrapped around her, kissing each other comfortably, tongues grazing the other. The silky red sheets of the luxurious bed crinkled beneath their combined weight, and their bodies, slick with perspiration, were a testament to the hours they'd spent entwined.

His hand rested possessively on her ass, a lingering touch, while the other brushed the back of her thigh, a gesture that spoke volumes of their intimacy. You were certain, with sickening clarity, that they had been entwined for hours.

“Syl…?” You mumble as you try to lift your head up, loud enough for him to hear. But they were lost in their intimacy, a tableau of forbidden pleasure that made your stomach churn with a mixture of jealousy and disgust.

Both were so immersed into the rhythmic pulse of jazz music thrumming its spell over them, while their arms and legs waltz on each other's skins, your voice could barely register into the room especially to Sylus.

The only thing that broke the immersion was the sudden, urgent caw of Mephisto recognizing you. The mechanical crow, perched on the window sill, had spotted you, its red eyes fixed on your figure. Sylus's head snapped up, his eyes widening with a flicker of surprise.

“Sweetie,” he breathed, a lazy, affectionate drawl that grated on your nerves. He had the audacity to use that pet name, a term of endearment that had once held meaning for you, now laced with irony, a mocking echo of a past that felt worlds away. He was now aware of the storm brewing in your eyes, the silent rage that pulsed through your veins.

“Which one of us is that, Sylus?” You questioned. The tension in the room crackled, palpable, a force that seemed to draw every atom toward the heart of this forbidden encounter.

It was a tense standoff three-way, a collision of love, betrayal, and a simmering rage that threatened to boil over and tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

Sylus remained unnervingly calm, a stillness that bordered on arrogance. As if this situation, this blatant betrayal, was simply another day at the office.

He sighed, a melodic exhale that seemed to underscore his control, and gently eased miss Hunter down beside him. His hand remained intertwined with hers, a possessive gesture, a subtle reminder of his power, his control over her.

You remembered how he once taught you to think before reacting. But this was not applicable to this unjustified situation.

Sylus’s smirk held a trace of begrudging admiration. “How did you find me here? I made sure you wouldn't have any traces of me in my devices,” he remarked, a subtle challenge laced within his words.

He was impressed, not by your intrusion, but by your proficiency, the sheer brilliance of your tracking skills as little to no criminals, compared to you, barely achieved this feat.

The shock was evident in his eyes, a hint of something akin to awe, but he covered it with a façade of casual admiration. "You're two steps ahead of me huh,” he conceded, a grudging acknowledgment of your resourcefulness. “I should have known.” He tried to inject a false, affectionate tone into his words, but it was a poor attempt to disguise his unease. “you're indeed amazing for that. I'll give you the credit, sweetie.”

You surged forward with no explanation for that matter, fueled by a cocktail of anger and betrayal. You lunged, your palm connecting with his cheek with a resounding slap. The force of the blow sent a wave of shock through him, a crimson flush blooming across his cheek.

"Bastard!" you screamed, your voice raw with fury. "You betrayed me! How could you do this to me, after everything?"

Mephisto, sensing the eruption of emotions, flew out the window. The mechanical crow, a silent witness to your heartbreak, had sensed the shift in the atmosphere and retreated, leaving you in this charged space.

Sylus's hand flew to his cheek, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he felt the sting of your blow. He looked up at you, your eyes burning with a heat that threatened to consume him. He saw the inferno of pain, the charred remnants of your trust smoldering within them.

But he reacted with an unsettling calm. As if your fury was but a minor inconvenience.

"What happened to you?" His gaze, unwavering, held a glimmer of something akin to amusement. "I made you a strong woman and you're supposed to react like one." he had a small but bitter chuckle.

You stood there, face to face with him, the raw fury in your heart threatening to spill over. His figure, once a beacon of comfort, now seemed tainted, sinful in its betrayal. His calm, his audacity, ignited a fresh fire in your soul.

"Is this..." you began, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and heartbreak, "Is this...what you meant when you taught me to protect myself from things… including yourself?" You finally completed your sentence, but the struggle to get there was visceral, an agonizing process of grappling with the raw truth.

"Sweetie," he purred, his voice dripping with honeyed sweetness, even as his hand remained possessively intertwined with his mistress's. He raised his head, meeting your gaze with a calm that bordered on a disturbing indifference. His casualness, his ability to betray you with such ease, was both maddening and bewildering.

"Yes," he said, his voice smooth and steady, "I needed you to know how to protect you from myself."

The words struck you like a blow. You were grasping for some semblance of logic, some explanation, some shred of comfort. But the situation was too complex, a tangle of emotions that defied reason.

How could this man, the man who had shaped your world, the man you had believed loved you, be capable of such a betrayal? You knew, you felt, you were certain that he loved you. His teachings, his unwavering support, they had all felt so heartfelt.

Sylus saw the whirlwind of emotions in your eyes, a mix of confusion, disbelief, and hurt. This was not the reaction he had anticipated, a vulnerability that made him feel a twinge of guilt, a brief flicker of mercy.

He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with a mixture of sincerity and uncertainty. "I'm going to be honest, sweetie." He averted his gaze, the weight of his confession a heavy burden. He wasn't a coward, he would always tell you the truth, just as he had taught you to embrace even the most uncomfortable truths.

"I have loved you," he confessed, his voice low and remorseful. "But you need to know, that this woman," he gestured towards the woman beside him, "is the one I love the most. Ever since… Eons ago, as a dragon, she has been with me. Even in the moment of my death," he finished, his voice trailing off.

The revelation struck you with the force of a thunderbolt. The anger, the hurt, the realization that you were, in fact, the other woman—it all washed over you, drowning you in a sea of despair.

This woman, this woman who had been with him for eons, their story, their world, had existed long before you, before your love, before your dreams. You were the one who had been tricked, the one who had been used, the one who had been left behind in the wake of their enduring love.

He turned away from you, his gaze settling on the woman beside him. She seemed flustered, embarrassed by the messy scene they had created, and you felt a wave of pity wash over you. You, too, were a victim in this twisted game of love and betrayal.

Sylus looked at her with an adoring gaze, the same affection he had once showered upon you. It was a sight that stabbed at your heart, a reminder of the love you thought you had shared, now gone, swept away by the tides of time and a love that had existed long before you.

"I remember, clear as day," he continued, his voice smooth, his gaze turning back to you, "Our adventures in Tarus City. The very first mark I placed on her skin." He was painting their courtship, a romanticized narrative that painted a vivid picture of their shared history. He was trying to make sense of it, to justify it—but it was hard for you to listen.

Each detail he shared—the caved city of treasures, the gold that glittered everywhere, how he'd held her waist with his dragon tail, the playful way he snaked up behind her to mark her neck—they were all memories you desperately wished were yours.

He continued, "And when I laid on the field of crimson flowers, it was the only special place I would let her know and stay and she was on top of me..." It was a scene straight out of a fairytale, a love story that had begun eons ago, a love that transcended time and death. And you were the outsider, the one who had been fooled, the one who had been left behind.

"In the moment of my death," he said, his voice laced with a profound sadness yet a sense of serenity. "She cursed me before my once more waking life, that I could never die again. I could only disappear in her will and her hands." He says, explaining the curse that the female hunter embedded onto her.

His words, laced with an undeniable truth, were crushing. You could feel your own heart breaking into a million pieces. You were not part of their story, their love, their world. You were simply a footnote, a brief interlude in a grand romance that had begun before time had even begun.

"I thought I moved on," he admitted, a trace of guilt in his voice. "But when I felt her newfound presence being around this world, I couldn't abandon my true love. It was a promise we made to each other, sweetie." He was trying to make sense of it all, to explain it. But it was too late. The damage was done. His words were like daggers, twisting and turning inside of you.

"Did you think for a second that you used me!?" You choked out the words, your voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. The realization hit you like a tidal wave—you weren't just the other woman, you were a pawn in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

"I didn't— but it is my responsibility.. to make amends. But you already know who I chose." Sylus replied, with a calmness that enraged you further. His response, devoid of remorse, was a slap in the face of the earth in yours.

You could no longer hold back the torrent of emotion, of hurt, and humiliation. Tears streamed down your face. "You used me!" you cried, your voice hoarse from anguish. You raised your hand, a fierce anger fueling your movement, and slapped him again.

This time, the force of your blow was fueled by the crushing weight of your shattered heart. Your slap resonated with the quiet despair that echoed through the room.

He remained silent, his face stoic, his eyes filled with a grim understanding of the wreckage he had created. He didn't flinch from your blow, nor did he offer any further words of explanation. The silence that settled between you was a testament to the profound devastation he had caused.

You knew then, with a terrible clarity, that you had been a mere chess piece in a game of love, passion, and betrayal, played by two souls bound by a love that had lasted eons. You had been seduced by his charm, his intelligence, his strength. But you had been blinded by your affection, blinded by the illusion you had built around him.

"I trusted you…" You choked out the words, the realization of your betrayal heavy on your tongue and the tears breaking down from your etes. You stumbled back, needing to escape the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. Your hand flew to your chest, clutching at the wound of your broken heart.

"I looked up to you— I loved you!" You felt your voice crack, the weight of your shattered dreams cascading down upon you. "Then you're just leaving me to dust because you found your ancient ex-girlfriend! To deal with this on my own! Do you know how much I told my parents and my friends your loyalty— and you pull this shit out to my face!" The words were a torrent of anger, frustration, and betrayal, pouring out of you like a tidal wave.

"Yes, sweetie, I appreciate all the things you've done for me, too," Sylus conceded, his voice laced with a hint of regret. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, a glimpse into the man you had once loved. He sounded a little rueful too from his disheartening deed.

But even as he spoke, his hand remained entangled with Miss Hunter's hair now, a constant reminder of his choice, his loyalty to the love that had endured throughout eons.

"But I simply chose what my heart desires and whom it beats for," he continued, his voice a smooth, steady murmur. His words were a testament to his resolute decision, a confirmation of his commitment to the woman beside him on the bed.

"It may have skipped for you as well," he added, a faint flicker of acknowledgement in his gaze.

"But not in the leaps way beyond mountains she has over me. " His words held a subtle undercurrent of pride, a hint of boasting, a reminder that his love for Miss Hunter was a force that defied time. It was as if he was comparing the intensity of his love for you to the enduring passion he shared with Miss Hunter, suggesting that yours was fleeting, while hers was undeniable, unwavering and endless.

Your back slammed against the ornate, velvet-covered wall and, sending a wave of pain through your body. The rustling of the fire in the chimney heightening the tension.

But right now, nothing can be compared to the crushing pain in your heart. The silence of this opulent room now echoed with the hollow emptiness you felt within. You were stranded, alone, lost in the wreckage of a love you once believed in, a love that had been a lie.

You had nothing more to say. It was all so clear, so horrifyingly simple. The pieces clicked into place, revealing a picture of betrayal so complete.

You gritted your teeth, tears cascading down your cheeks. "I just hope you won't make attempts to appear in my life again," you said, your voice hoarse.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a ring, a symbol of the future you thought you were building together.

The ring, a precious gem that once held so much promise, now felt like a poison in your hand. With a final, desperate action, you flung the ring towards him, the metal clanging against the floor, the impact echoing the shattering of your heart.

"I'm sorry, y/n..." Sylus said, his voice tinged with regret. But it was a regret that felt hollow, a mere echo of the love he had once professed. His actions spoke louder than any words he could utter, and it was clear that his remorse was only a shadow of the love he held for the woman beside him.

A fire ignited within you, a blaze of fury fueled by heartbreak. You pointed a finger at him, your voice trembling with barely controlled rage. "Fine! We're done, that's what I want too!" You shouted, your words a declaration of war against the man who had betrayed you, the man you had once loved.

You left him there, the image of his betrayal seared into your soul. You stepped into the elevator, the metal walls closing in on you, pressing down on you like the crushing weight of grief. The silent hum of the elevator felt like a dirge, a mournful symphony for a love that had died.

The lobby with its bustling crowd felt like a blur. You walked past people who were happily chatting, laughing, living their lives as if nothing had happened. You felt like a ghost, moving through a world that had suddenly lost all its color. It was too much. The dam of your emotions finally broke.

You raced to your car, a blur of movement and tear-stained cheeks. Slumping into the driver's seat, you rested your forehead on the steering wheel, your body racked by sobs. It was a quiet grief, a silent scream trapped in a world that no longer made sense.

The barrage of missed calls and texts suddenly made sense to you. Each one, a silent echo of your foolish trust, now felt like a searing reminder of your heartbreak. You kept crying, the weight of your grief feeling like a boulder, a heavy strain on your shoulders. You longed to break free from the torrent of your emotions, but it felt like you were drowning in them.

But eventually, exhausted from the relentless sobs, you slumped back against the driver's seat, your head resting against the headrest. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, a testament to the depth of your despair.

Then, you heard it. A gentle, unhappy caw. You recognized the distinctive sound, the crimson eyes that peered through the darkened window. It was Mephisto. You unlocked the car window, and he flew in, settling on your finger, his metallic eyes shimmering in the dim light.

“Oh, Mephisto..” You sighed as you stroked his smooth, metallic feathers. Something about his presence, his silent understanding, brought a flicker of warmth to your heart.

“You're such a good friend, you know that?” He cawed softly, and you smiled, the first genuine smile you'd managed since you found out the truth. It was a small comfort, but right now, it was all you needed.

The fact that he was Sylus' mechanical crow didn't diminish your fondness for Mephisto. He had become more than just a possession, more than just a tool. Mephisto, as of now, had become a quiet companion, a silent witness to your heartbreak, a source of comfort in a world that had suddenly felt cold and unforgiving.

Life, in its own strange way, had offered you a measure of mercy. You haven't crossed paths with Sylus, not in any of the unexpected places where ex-lovers tend to bump into each other. It was as if fate had conspired to keep you apart, allowing wounds to heal without the added pain of an unwelcome encounter.

Mephisto, somehow, became your regular visitor, a silent observer of your healing process. Sometimes he would arrive with a sense of frustration, his metal eyes flashing a bit brighter, likely due to some altercation with Miss Hunter.

She probably had a beef with him for being a spy dog, a relic of Sylus' traces. But you always greeted him with a smile and a gentle stroke to his head, the quiet comfort of his presence a comforting touch on your bruised heart.

Time, as it often does, had begun to mend your broken heart. The sting of betrayal still lingered, a faint echo of the pain you had endured. But you were moving forward, finding solace in new experiences, new connections.

You found yourself at a museum, a haven of quiet beauty and wonder. You wandered through the halls, admiring the exhibits, until you stopped before an aquarium, captivated by the vibrant underwater world. A particular fish, a mesmerizing glow emanating from its scales, caught your eye. You pressed your hand against the glass, intrigued by the creature’s hypnotic beauty.

"You seem to like that one too, miss? You have good taste," a voice said behind you.

You turned, your heart skipping a beat as you met the gaze of a beautiful stranger. His soft features had a hint of rebellion, his short, wavy indigo hair adding a touch of charm. He was classically handsome, dressed in a crisp white polo with slightly puffy sleeves that accentuated his physique, and a glittering golden necklace adding a hint of elegance.

His smile was warm and inviting, and his gaze held a genuine interest. The initial hesitation you felt quickly melted away as you found yourself drawn to his charm and ease. He spoke about the fish, sharing his expertise, his passion for aquatic life filling his voice.

It made you giggle and discovered a shared love for the beauty and complexity of nature, and you found yourself laughing, sharing stories, and discovering a connection that surprised you.

Your banter with the mysterious man continued, a delightful mix of shared laughter and playful teasing. His initial charm was quickly evident, his playful teasing a welcome change from the dull routine of your days.

He was passionate about aquatic life, but he could be a bit pouty when you touched on sensitive topics. When you mentioned the idea of catching fish from the ocean to sell, he became visibly deflated and pouted a bit at you.

"Oh, please, you can't be serious?" he asked, a snarky tone creeping into his voice.

"It's not right to take creatures from their home just to line your pockets. The ocean is a sacred place, a source of life, and we need to protect it, not exploit it. It's not just about the fish, it's about the whole ecosystem," He defended and you only shrugged just to get him riled up again. Although he did have a point.

Somewhere in the throngs of visitors, you failed to notice a familiar pair of crimson eyes. Sylus, he was with his woman as usual, his presence a dark shadow casting a subtle regret across his handsome features, had witnessed this brand new you.

tags. @yukithestar @babygirl-panda19 @rainkissedberries @aetherscribit @athanasia-day

#sylus x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #sylus #angst #angst with a sad ending #qin che #qin che x reader

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grimmweepers · 1 day ago

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— ☆ 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝚰𝐎𝐒𝚰𝐓𝐘 𝐊𝚰𝐋𝐋𝐒

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’ve seen lucifer’s demon form but you can’t shake the feeling that’s it’s not all he is. what if there was something darker beneath his beautiful visage? you ask to see more but lucifer warns you it may be too much for mortal eyes. as he slowly unveils the facets of his true self, you wonder if you can love something incomprehensible? and more importantly, can it love you back?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: OM!LUCIFER x GN!reader, SFW but slightly suggestive, DARK ROMANCE ♥️, HORROR ELEMENTS, implied sex but no smut, established relationship but in the earlier stages, light angst, celestial war mention, he calls you ‘my dear’, demon x human, monster romance(?), ik my title is ‘curiosity kills’ but i promise no one dies 2.0k wc. | masterlist

𝐚/𝐧: woo! my first fic for 2025. halloween is long gone but spookyookyooky vibes are forever. i haven't written for lucifer (or the obey me fandom) since 2021 so please be kind! i love when artists draw the demons as monster-like so it inspired me to write this

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

They say curiosity killed the cat but nobody ever warns you what happens when the thing you seek is something you love. Sometimes curiosity doesn’t just kill, it pulls you into the depths and reminds you that some paths were never meant to be tread at all.

You knew Lucifer’s demon form. Every time he brought it out, you couldn’t miss it. No one did. Those horns curling from his head, those raven wings that stretched with an elegance befitting for the pride incarnate, the diamond birthmark adorning his forehead. He looked every inch the fallen angel. Dangerous. Powerful. But still akin to something recognisable. Something human. That was what you thought his “demon form” meant, or at least the extent of it.

But the closer you got to him, emotionally, physically—you started to suspect there’d be more. This was Lucifer, after all. The same Morning Star who watched the Celestial Realm itself fracture, the one who waged war and defied his own Father for his sister’s sake. Of course, there would be layers to him, parts that are hidden beneath polished veneers that he might not want you to see.

The revelation came gradually, though not accidentally. He’d never risk an accident with something like this. It wasn’t just about protecting you, it was also about managing what it would mean for him to be fully seen.

It began one night in his room. His usual form was already on display, horns casting long shadows on the walls as his wings arched lazily behind him. You were comfortable with this version of him, so much so that you’d leaned into his shoulder, tracing his horns absentmindedly as he read aloud from some aged, prodigious book. The question had been on your mind but you didn’t realise what you’d said until the words were out of your mouth.

“Is there more?” You asked concretely.

He stilled, halting his finger mid-sentence against the page. “More?” his voice was neutral like always.

“Of… this,” you gestured vaguely at him. “Your form. You expect me to believe this is the Avatar of Pride’s only face?”

The jest was meant to lighten the mood, but he didn’t laugh. Instead, he closed the book and turned his gaze on you. His eyes burned a little brighter—sharper. “What you see now is what I allow you to see. There are parts of me not meant for human eyes,” he said softly.

“So you’ve locked those parts away?”

“Not locked,” he corrected you. “Contained. Managed.”

That should have been the end of it but you couldn’t let it go. Not after seeing a flicker of hesitation in his face. Or perhaps it was fear. So you would’ve let it go until you wondered:

What could possibly unnerve Lucifer?

———

The first time he showed you, it was brief. Something of a test.

“Don’t move,” he instructed, “and don’t look away.”

You stood in his study, your heart pounding as he stepped back, seeing his usual form dissolve into something more. His wings expanded, shifting like spilled ink on water. His horns lengthened, spiraling like gnarled roots of an oak tree, and his skin took on a strange sheen, as though it couldn’t decide whether it was flesh or something far older.

But it was his eyes that terrified you. The whites were gone, replaced by an endless, tormenting black. You felt like you were being pulled into them, swallowed by the power of something vast and unknowable.

However, there was also heat that felt familiar, pressing into you like his breath fanning over your skin in the dead of night, when his hands explored every crevice on your body. This form, alien as it was, still carried the same possessive hunger. You had to grip onto the edge of a nearby table to steady yourself.

And then, as quickly as it came, it receded. His wings folded back, his horns shrank and his eyes returned to that familiar crimson. “Enough for tonight,” you were assailed by the sound of his shoes clicking against the hardwood as he made his way to you.

Something, he thought, was not quite right. You were shaken, yes, but not disturbed. He had expected you to avert your eyes, to flinch or look away lest the weight of his true form crush your sanity. Yet you watched him with defiance in your expression and more unsettling still, he found himself watching you back. What was it that kept you here? What had driven you to face something so unnatural and still hold your ground?

———

The second time was different.

You were sitting at the edge of his bed with your legs tucked beneath you. His shirt hung loosely on your frame as the scent of him clung to the fabric. Much like other nights, you’d spent this one wrapped around each other until exhaustion claimed you both.

Lucifer suddenly tugged at his shirt and after your eyes fell on him, you felt something gnawing in your stomach. But you were surprised when he only asked with a casual cadence,

“Do you trust me?”

You nodded like it was perfectly normal to place your earnest trust in a demon like him. You’d already given yourself to him in every way that mattered, baring your soul just as he had bared his body to you time and time again.

Fond with your answer, he stood up and smiled. “Then close your eyes.”

When you opened them, the world felt…wrong.

What you saw had to have been a dream-picture because his form was towering enough to barely fit the space and his wings no longer looked like they belonged to anything earthly. The feathers were shifting, like they had been replaced by shards of black glass catching onto nonexistent light. His horns gleamed like molten metal and his face wasn’t entirely his. It was flickering between the Lucifer you knew and something you couldn’t name but felt in the deepest part of your being.

The diamond on his forehead began to glow, its light blotting shapes in all angles. And then it split, revealing a vertical slit of an unblinking eye that stared into you—not at you, but into you, through you.

Somewhere in between you must’ve hauled yourself onto the floor and stumbled back because your knees were not on the mattress anymore but on wood. A pressure built in your chest but you simply couldn’t look away.

Lucifer didn’t speak, he just watched you like before but this time you felt as though every secret you’d ever buried was laid bare. It wasn’t until he eventually spoke your name that you realised you were crying.

“Breathe,” he said, kneeling before you. His voice was echoing like it was coming from inside you. “I told you it wasn’t meant for human eyes. We can stop.”

“It’s okay, it’s just…a lot,” you said, trembling but not from the cold.

He approached you, his hand eerily warm against your cheek as he wiped your tears and helped you to your feet. “You’re doing better than most would. I’m proud of you.”

“Does it ever hurt?” you swallowed hard, like there was rough rope lodged down your throat. The change was not as graceful as you thought it would be. It came ripping out of him like it was something he constantly suppressed.

“No,” you heard a break of vulnerability in his display. “But it can be lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“It is a grave reminder that demons exist to fear. Sometimes to worship. But never to love.”

Never to love because defending love was what made him this way.

Once respite had settled, a look of sullen reflection had overcome Lucifer’s face, wondering if this left you with little desire to see more.

———

Before the third time came, he warned you about the strain it might put on your mind, “This time might be dangerous.” But you insisted and he remained cautious.

When it happened, it wasn’t in the confines of his room but outside, beneath the yawning void of the Devildom’s starless sky. He told you it would be safer this way. For both of you.

His transformation hit you like a violent wind. Lucifer didn’t just change, he expanded uncontainably into something monstrous, his body shimmering like a dark mirage. His horns were jagged spires, sharp enough to cleave through the Celestial Palace itself and you couldn’t see where his wings ended and began—only that they were folding and unfolding like obsidian knives.

Then, there was his mouth that stretched wider than it should have, revealing rows of teeth too sharp, too numerous. They weren’t made for smiling, they were meant to tear and consume, a predator’s maw lurking beneath his visage. And his eyes—or the absence of them—were blackened husks whilst the unblinking eye on his forehead sat like an all-seeing sigil.

Shadows pulsed into your vision, pooling at your feet and reaching for you like they knew your name. The sheer magnitude of Lucifer’s form left you breathless. If this was the strength of someone who served second to Diavolo, then what maddening power must the Prince of the Devildom truly possess? And beyond even that, the Demon King himself—origin of all darkness. The thought had chills coiling around your spine and you thanked the Heavens he was resting in his indefinite slumber.

Yet strangely, in all that horror, there was beauty. Lucifer’s voice called to you like a melody and his vibrating presence, for all its terror, might have even felt soothing. It was magnificent.

“Are you afraid?” he asked from everywhere and nowhere. A question that wasn’t meant to frighten but rather a lifeline, a chance to retreat before you fell any deeper.

You should have been. Any rational being would have been. But instead, you took a step closer and reached out to the impossibility of his form. You touched something, though whether it was his face, his chest, or his soul, you weren’t sure.

“No,” you said between awe and surrender. “Never.”

At that moment, you understood what it meant to love a creature who stood at the precipice of an existence that could shatter you with mere thought.

“You are the first to see this and not run. You reach for the flame, knowing it will burn you,” he spoke like the deep roll of a bell.

“How could I not?” You didn’t step back, what was left of your willpower rooted you to the ground. “You’ve never been anything less than this. I could feel it.”

For a fleeting second, you saw the disintegration of his monstrous form, red eyes flickering through black ones as his pride briefly softened in the quiet between you. His wings faltered, a deep inhuman sigh escaping his lips. It was the first time you'd seen him so... uncertain.

“You think you know me so well? They say I am nothing but contradictions. Do you think love could redeem something like me? I could destroy you without meaning to,” this time he laughed but you knew this wasn’t anything he found funny. In fact, it hurt him to think there was any part of him that could cause you to recoil from the truth of what he was.

“But you haven’t because you don’t want to.” Again, his figure quickly distorted into something you were more familiar with. “Has it ever crossed your mind that I never wanted perfection, Lucifer?”

“Then what is it you want from me, if not to run?”

Your heart wound tight, it wasn’t difficult to tell him but you weren’t entirely sure if he’d even believe it. “Just you.”

He said nothing whilst your nostrils flared. “Just you,” you repeated.

Lucifer's unblinking eye narrowed, its glow dimming just slightly as if your words had managed to reach that inscrutable part of him. “You walk the line between courageous and naive, my dear.”

“Then I suppose it’s naive of me to hope you’re walking with me.”

A faint pause. His wings shimmered behind him, his hesitation was palpable but not binding. “If you would dare to take such steps, then you will not tread alone.”

It was resolute, his words settling like an oath.

Curiosity, they said, kills the cat. But in this case, it didn't. It brought you to a place you'd never thought you'd find. Lurking in the darkness of his true form, where love had no place for so long, you found the first glint of light.

A dark, dangerous light, but a light nonetheless.

more a/n: i’m fascinated by eldritch/lovecraftian horror, can you tell?

divider: @/adornedwithlight

networks: @pixelcafe-network @houseofsolisoccasum

tagging you bc you kindly asked eep @sugurouge

#☾ grimmweepers #hide and queue #<- because i scheduled this LOL #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me lucifer x reader #om lucifer x reader #omswd lucifer #om lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x you #omswd x reader #obey me oneshot #house of solis occasum #demon x human #demon x reader #monster romance

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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Omggg thank you so much for shouting out Baby in this series!! I was imagining Black Beauty for her lol.

And Dean's little moment with Mato was so fun to write -- he makes a good "father-in-law." 🤣

I also love how unconditionally they seem to love one another. I miss the times when loving was this simple. I know it came with a lot of patriarchy and all that - I don't mean that. But more like the acceptance that came so smoothly.

Aww I'm so glad you commented on this. For as much complicated drama as Mila and Dean have around them, when it's just the two of them, it really is a simple kind of love. 🥹💗

I'll be honest, given how many people have choosen over Dean, this line below had me obssessed—

Ahh right?? Her love is strong, and she's not backing down on choosing Dean -- as many times as he chooses her. 💞

I'm so glad you're enjoying this little sequel series so far. Thank you so much for reviewing this chapter. I really appreciate it, friend!! 🥰

Outlander - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won?

AN: Ready for some more Cowboy Dean? Here we go with Outlander Part 1! This is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

This sequel series will be 4 parts! 💜

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Suggestiveness/implied smut and spice, hunting (in the more traditional sense), angst, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. **Pronunciation guide at the end!

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Two Worlds

Her people call this river Little Cheyenne. It’s because Big Cheyenne cuts through the land of the Sioux Indians by half, but Little Cheyenne almost meets it in the south, stretching all the way up to the Black Hills.

Mila’s tribe has always lived near this river. Its waters have bled red during battles with other tribes, and sometimes during battles with White Men.

The White Men’s fort, the one her husband came from, lies farther down in the south. The tribe had to move their village higher north along the river after Mila returned with Dean Winchester, just to be safe.

On a cloudy afternoon, Mila scrubs at a bundle of dirty clothes until they’re clean. She rinses them off in the river and is thorough about her work, but she knows she can’t be here much longer. She has a stew simmering on hot coals in her tipi…

Well, the one she now shares with her husband.

Unconsciously, she smiles. She remembers leading Dean through the tribe, to the place where she hoped he would find rest. They stopped at the foot of her tipi.

“This one’s yours?” he asked.

She paused, giving him another small smile.

“Ours.”

Mila continues scrubbing, though she frowns when her fingers slip through a tear in one of the new tunics she made for him (even though he keeps calling it a shirt). The tear was made by a blade, or maybe an arrowhead, she realizes.

The crunch of feet on the riverbed’s gravel makes her raise her head and look over her shoulder. Unease prickles down her spine. She braces herself for a familiar shadow, come to disturb her peace.

But then she relaxes. She’s being joined by two of the older women in her tribe. Mila has known them her whole life, and so she calls them tunwin. Aunt. They both greet her kindly and kneel beside her with their own bundles of clothes for washing, but Eyota, the older one, has a sharper eye. She is their tribe’s medicine woman.

“Your husband wears out his clothes,” she remarks.

“He’s been working hard training with Šóta and the other men,” Mila explains.

“He seems to be learning quickly,” says Misae. She has a more playful glint in her eyes. “Who knew that you could catch and tame a White Man. Looks like they are no different from wild horses.”

Mila smiles slightly, but it’s not genuine. She nods in agreement. “He’s learning quickly.”

She holds her tongue from saying anything else, even though she wants to. Dean isn’t a man to be tamed, any more than she was, in his people’s eyes. She aims to change the subject.

“Do you have any good herbs or spices for wahonpi? I’ve had the stew simmering all morning,” she asks Eyota. Not only is she a gifted healer, but Eyota is also one of the best cooks, and she knows it. She nods and straightens her shoulders the way she always does when someone asks her for advice—and even when they don’t ask for it.

“Of course, child. What you need is…”

“Goddamn it,” Dean huffs under his breath.

The jackrabbit flees from him again, or more accurately, from his terribly aimed arrow. He’s an excellent marksman…just not with a bow, it seems.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong here, and he’s not likely to figure it out. Not by the way Takoda, Šóta, and the other men are laughing at him.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows when he’s being hazed.

These men are bare-chested warriors, each of them richly tanned under the sun. Most of them wear their hair long, half of it gathered high on their heads, or braided in some way. Šóta is his wife’s cousin, and as the Chief’s son, he wears a small adornment of eagle feathers threaded into his hair. His closest friends are Takoda and Otaktay. Both of them laugh at Dean the most, and in their language, using just enough gestures and body language that Dean knows he’s being talked about. They point at his boots and his brown Stetson hat—two of the only things he’s kept of his own that make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

Finally, Šóta goes over to him. “Good try,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.

Dean knows he can’t punch out Mila’s cousin, no matter how bad he’s asking for it. Somehow, Dean manages to hold onto his temper.

“What’re they saying?” he asks lowly, gesturing at the two chuckle brothers.

Šóta’s lips twitch. He glances down at Dean’s feet. “They say your…shoes are loud on the earth. You give yourself away before the animal even catches your scent.”

Dean’s given up a lot of things, but his boots won’t be one of them. He wants to learn. He wants to belong here, in Mila’s world, but he also wants to stay himself.

So the men move on, mounting their horses. Dean rides with Baby at a plodding clip. Her black coat ripples with a healthy sheen. He thinks she’s come to enjoy the more natural surroundings and freer pasture of the grasslands, and he can’t deny, this part of it all feels right. The sun peeks through between the dappled leaves of oak trees, painting the ground in red, green, and gold. It’s quiet and beautiful here as Šóta leads the pack through the forest, just southwest of the village.

Eventually, he stops them between a denser thatch of trees and shrub. He raises a hand signal that Dean’s come to recognize. He raises his bow belatedly after the others though. He follows Šóta’s line of vision, and there is a deer grazing in a small clearing. A young buck.

Šóta signals at Dean. Try again, his eyes say.

Dean takes in a deep, quiet breath through his nose, and he takes aim.

He really misses his damn rifle.

Dean shoulders the sting of failure while he makes his way through the camp, leading Baby by the reigns. He drops her off at the large horse pen. There he feeds her and brushes her long coat, all while murmuring soft affectionate things. She’s still one of his only friends here.

But even she leaves him short to join her new friend, Mato. The two have become thick as thieves. Mato greets the black mare with a friendly whinny. Their noses touch in affection, and Mato playfully nips at her ear.

Dean raises his brows. “Well, that’s a little more friendly than usual. You guys start courting when I wasn’t looking?”

He walks over to Mato, who’s softened up to him in recent weeks.

“You sly dog,” Dean remarks, smirking. “Didn’t even ask me for her hand.”

Mato blows a hot breath through his nose at Dean, who has to blink, wiping his face.

“Now that’s just rude.” Still, he offers the mustang an apple from his pocket. Mato takes it from his palm, letting Dean rub his neck while he munches on his snack. “As fathers-in-law go, you lucked out, pal. See? I’m a delight.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Baby had her first foal by spring. Dean grins at the thought, but it soon falls. If only his father-in-law were so easy to please.

His mind dwells on it as he starts making his way back to the heart of the village. Chatan, Mila’s father, hasn’t warmed up to him any better than Šóta or the other men. Tahatan is the only one of them who treats Dean civilly, and overall, he seems to be a good leader.

Dean has that thought, just when he sees the older man himself walking with a woman Dean sort of recognizes. She wears a long necklace made of blue beads and seashells. Tahatan goes into her tipi, even though Dean knows…that woman isn’t the Chief’s wife.

Dean raises his brows, but he subtly pivots on his heel and takes a different route back to his own tipi. Whatever he just saw, it’s definitely not his business.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases.

She welcomes him into her arms, her hands traveling warmly up his shoulders. He bends to kiss her, soft and slow at first. And then deeper, sucking on her lower lip and teasing her with a sensuous tongue. She hums in surprise into his mouth, making him smile.

He’s exhausted and feeling low, but he doesn’t want to let on to her. He just wants to forget about his day, and hopefully recharge with a better night.

“How did it go today?” she asks, after he allows her to breathe.

Dean nods (and lies). “Pretty good.”

She waits for him to continue. When he just continues to hold her, she raises her brows up at him.

“Dean?”

“What? I’m workin’ on archery. Lots of progress.”

She eyes him in suspicion, and he knows he doesn’t have her fooled. Actually, she looks like she’s going to press him about it, so he releases her from his hold and goes to change out of his dirty clothes to avoid her gaze.

“Hey, uh, maybe it’s none of my business, but I saw the Chief go into some other woman’s tent today. Holding hands, bedroom eyes, the whole deal,” he says while he changes. He glances back at her and waggles his brows. Mila smiles slightly.

“Did she wear her hair in a half-braid, or did she wear a necklace made of seashells?” she asks.

Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t seem surprised, but he thinks back to what he saw.

“Uh, seashells. Yeah, she wore seashells,” he says.

Mila nods. “Yes, that woman is also his…the chiefs of my people are known to take more than one wife.”

At that, Dean becomes even more surprised. He finishes dressing and leaves his boots by the tipi’s entrance. His raised brows even out into a smirk.

“Well, okay. Guess it’s good to be Chief,” he says.

Mila’s lips purse as she eyes him narrowly. She goes back to stirring the stew with a wide, wooden spoon. Dean doesn’t see her reaction, but he does notices that something’s missing from his side of the bedding. He frowns.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” He asks Mila, who shakes her head without looking at him.

“I moved it,” she curtly replies.

Dean’s frown deepens. He touches her arm to get her attention.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, baby,” he says. He’s made sure that she knows the basics of a gun well enough, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of her hurting herself.

“Don’t leave it out, then,” she snips back. “It shouldn’t go where we sleep.”

Dean tilts his head at her. He’s a bit confused at her tone, especially because they’ve had this conversation before.

“I have it there just in case something happens at night,” he reminds her. His pistol is really just for emergencies though. There are only three bullets left in it, and he can’t exactly go shopping for more.

Dean realizes then that Mila’s mood has shifted. He approaches her from behind.

“What’s wrong, huh?” His hands find familiar purchase along the curve of her waist. He swipes her braid away and presses a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. More teasingly, he asks, “What’d I do now?”

Mila remains tight-lipped, until she glances at him over her shoulder.

“Do you want another woman?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, but it succeeds in completely tripping him up. He blinks at her, incredulous and bewildered.

“What?”

She continues shredding another herb to put into the stew. Somehow, it makes the broth smell a bit worse.

“You seem to admire the Chief for having three wives, so you must want another one too,” she says.

Holy shit, three wives? Dean wonders. The man must be a saint. Look at the hell I’m catching with one.

He can’t help but laugh, a deep belly chuckle that does nothing to take away Mila’s ire. She glares at him now, genuinely upset, and Dean knows he’s starting to shit the bed on this one. He sobers up and raises his hands in surrender.

“Sweetheart,” he says, in a placating tone.

Despite her annoyance, she allows him to hold her again. He plies her with more tantalizing kisses along her neck. He breathes in the sweet-smelling oil she uses on her hair.

“You’re more than enough woman for me. You know that, right?” he whispers against her skin. It earns her slight shudder, and he smiles. He teases the spot just under her ear, grazing with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. She can’t help but writhe against him a bit. It stirs a well of desire in his lower belly, especially when he squeezes her hips, pressing himself to her from behind.

She tries to remain strong as she clears her throat, no doubt feeling his growing hardness against her. She starts to blush hotly.

“It’s all I can do just to make sure you stay sweet for me,” Dean says, a hint of teasing returned to his voice.

Mila finally breaks into a laugh. She reaches back to swat him on the head, but his ministrations work. Once she manages to escape from his grasp with a teasing smile of her own, she more happily serves him a bowl of stew.

Dean smirks. Fine, he can be patient. He’ll just have to wait until dessert, then. After a moment to calm himself, he sits down on the ground beside her and brings a large spoonful of stew to his lips. There, he pauses. The strange taste that assaults his tongue nearly makes him choke, but he does his best to swallow it down. The meat’s tough as nails, for Christ’s sake…

Hearing a spoon clatter against the bowl, he chances glancing at Mila. She sits stock still, her brows furrowed as she frowns. Slowly, she sets the bowl down and says,

“Stop eating.”

She looks angry at herself. Dean feels bad for her, his sympathy striking at his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m hungry,” he says, and gamely takes another couple of bites.

She just watches him. Her upset worsens while he tries and fails to cover up a hacking cough.

Finally, Mila can stand no more. She takes the bowl from him, making some of the foul broth slosh over their hands and onto the ground. She tried to make wahonpi, one of the most basic soups in her people’s culture, made from bison, potatoes, corn, and carrots stewed in the broth.

Eyota told me it was simple! she thinks in dismay. How did it go so wrong?

“It’s no good,” she says, her voice hard. “I will go to my mother and see what she cooked. She may have extra for us.”

She rises to her feet, and Dean quickly follows her. He catches sight of her tears, even though she turns her face away from him to grab her shoes. He reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm. He tugs her back to face him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why’re you getting so upset?” he says. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

Or maybe next time, I’ll try doing the cooking, he thinks.

“Because!” she blurts. Tears well up in her eyes and begin to slip down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to brush them away. “Because you shouldn’t have to eat it. Because it should be good. You deserve to eat something good!”

Mila finally realizes why her mother tried so hard to teach her these things. She’s embarrassed, feeling sorry for herself, but it’s also far worse than that. Her heart hurts knowing what Dean has gone through, and what he continues to go through for her sake. The least she could do is make sure he eats well, and it seems she can’t even do that.

“Mila,” he says with a sigh. He guides her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She can’t allow herself to be comforted. She pushes at his chest to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what happens outside?” she says. “It’s a small village, and people talk when they think I’m not listening. I know what the men are doing to you.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You should not have to,” she insists, resting a hand over his heart. “You have proven yourself to be a man of honor. Tahatan said it himself. They should not be this way.”

Dean smiles ruefully. “I can handle it.”

He bows his head and captures her lips, plying her with a deeper kiss. The heat of it grows and becomes more than a distraction, more than comfort. It strips everything else away, until it’s just the two of them again, like the night she found him at the riverbank and held him until he woke up in her arms.

What they eat doesn’t matter. Other people don’t matter. All that matters is this.

He squeezes her hips and presses her harder against him, so she can feel every part of his desire. She moans into his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt. So he guides her down to the bedding, where he shows her what he’d rather get a taste of.

Later that evening, Mila and Dean have dinner with her parents. Her mother, Weaya, is a gracious host, treating Dean both like a guest and a proper son-in-law. She gives him a special cut of braised bison meat, not to mention extra corn and potato hash. Chatan says nothing to him and eats in gruff, stoic silence.

Dean can tell it both hurts and annoys his wife, but he has to focus on answering Weaya’s many questions about his life—mainly about his family and the farm he grew up on. In some ways, raising crops and rearing up cows, chickens, and horses there isn’t so different from the Lakota village.

“You must miss that place. Your home,” she says. Dean meets his mother-in-law’s eyes, pausing in polishing off the meat sauce on his plate with a piece of bread. Chatan looks up from his meal, and so does Mila, who hesitates too. He sees the thread of her concern there, behind her eyes, so Dean hides the stab of sadness that hits him every time he thinks of Lawrence.

“Sometimes,” he admits. He looks over at Mila. “But I’m not alone. That’s what matters.”

She smiles at him softly. Dean has the urge to take her hand, maybe raise it up to his lips, but he’ll leave that for when they’re alone. He doesn’t want to upset her father any more than he has just by sitting in Chatan’s house. Tent…whatever.

He’s glad when, after almost another hour and a round of hot tea, Mila finishes chatting with her mother and stands. It means they can finally get the hell out of here. No disrespect to her parents, but with so much change happening so quickly, Dean had been able to put Lawrence out of his mind for a while. Tonight he thinks about his mom and his brother more than makes him comfortable on their way through the village. He follows Mila inside their tipi, then starts up a candle while she gets ready to rest for the evening.

Living here is like going back in time—before the lantern, before indoor plumbing and the water heater. It’s not a huge hardship for Dean, who’s spent a lot of his life sleeping on hard, dusty ground, or military bases with less than most modern amenities, but it’s still another adjustment.

He undresses down to his pants and settles down to the bedding and furs, waiting for his wife. She kneels beside him after undressing down to just her shift. He lays on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, and he watches her unbind her long, dark hair, undoing the braid from the bottom strands. She has this concentrated look on her face, like her mind is far away, even though she’s right here next to him. He threads his fingers through her loose hair while she works, giving her a smile.

“You okay?” he asks.

Mila pauses. She lets her tresses escape from her fingers and reaches for him, laying her hand on his chest. Dean holds it there and finally allows himself to press a kiss into her palm.

I’m sorry, is what she wants to say, but she knows he’ll only reply, For what?

So she lowers down and slips into his warm embrace, as if this can make them both forget the day. She rests her cheek over his beating heart.

“You will never be alone,” she promises.

Dean quirks a smile. Instead of answering, he brushes her cheek tenderly with his hand, and he closes his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he finds sleep.

The candle slowly flickers out.

On most nights, Mila falls asleep before Dean, and so his light snores don’t bother her. Tonight, even though she’s tried, she can’t tune out his rumbles. Or maybe it’s her own mind she can’t tune out.

She carefully maneuvers out of his hold and slips on her shoes. Maybe the moon will give her clarity tonight.

She pushes open the front flap of the tent and steps out into the cooler air. She looks up at the moon’s white-blue glow, a wide crescent peeking out from between two large clouds. A strong breeze tugs at her hair and flutters her lashes when she closes her eyes. She crosses her arms when goosebumps spread across her tan skin.

“What troubles you, Kimmímila?”

The voice is steady and male, and all too familiar. Still, the intrusion startles her. Her eyes fly open wide and she jolts, inhaling sharply. She frowns when she realizes it’s him.

“What are you doing? It’s late,” she says.

He steps out from the shadows with his pipe in hand. He smells strongly of tobacco. Her father and uncle smoke as well, but she doesn’t like it herself. She’s glad Dean doesn’t either.

“Easing my mind,” he says, raising his pipe. “I see you’re up to the same thing.”

Mila shakes her head. She returns her attention to the moon. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are we not friends, Mila?” he says. “Can’t we talk and share like we used to?”

His voice is disheartened enough that it earns her gaze. She sighs at him.

“I am sorry, but I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “Don’t test me anymore.”

He pauses with his pipe in hand. It drops to his side, and he takes measured steps closer, until he’s looking down at her. Even with the litheness of his form, he’s still taller and broader than her. His long, dark hair is half pulled onto the top of his head, threaded together with a beaded leather string she made for him when they were children. He has used it ever since. The rest of his hair lays loose down his back, brushing his arms.

“If you actually loved him, it wouldn’t be a test,” he teases.

He tries to touch her cheek, but she guides his hand down. She shakes her head and steps away from him.

“This isn’t a game,” she says. “You know I mean what I say.”

His anger and frustration surfaces, with a sharp exhale of breath and the crunch of his dark brows.

“You would choose the Outlander over your own people,” he accuses.

Mila’s gaze is firm as she heads back to her tipi. If he will not be reasonable, then she will make it clear enough to hurt.

“I choose him over you,” she says.

Then, she slips back inside.

The shadow outside remains, just long enough for the moon to become clear past the moving clouds.

In the morning, Mila goes to her uncle, Chief Tahatan. She finds her parents there in his tipi as well, all of them sharing breakfast. Her aunt passes around more bread and wojapi, a sweet mixed berry sauce, while her father is resting a broken ankle. He’s complaining again, even though it happened over a week ago now.

“If you hadn’t let the horse buck you off, you wouldn’t be hurting,” she says sharply now. She’s become annoyed with his griping. “Or better yet, you can finally admit that you’re beyond the years of breaking young stallions.”

Chatan is the Horsemaster of their tribe, and has been since Mila was a little girl, inheriting the position from her great uncle, the former chief’s younger brother. Mila knows, however, that Chatan is getting too old to do the harder work. Many years have meant many battles too, and they’ve taken their toll on his bones.

An idea grows in her mind, and she goes to sit beside her father. She applies the poultice Eyota gives Weaya for him, before rewrapping his ankle.

“Father,” she begins, imploring him gently, “perhaps Dean could help you care for the horses.”

Chatan eyes her with a frown. “Your husband already has his hands filled with training.”

“Šóta and Takoda can’t do it all themselves, and Dean has experience with breaking young horses,” she reasons.

Chatan ignores her and hefts himself to his feet without her or his wife’s help. He leaves with her mother on his heels, even though she looks back at her daughter apologetically. You know your father, her eyes say.

Mila frowns at his back, both frustrated and upset. When they’re gone, she heaves a sigh. She remains determined though.

She goes to Chief Tahatan next. He sits in his chair of whicker and wood while he smokes his pipe. Her aunt has gone to help the other women harvesting chokeberries and wild onions. Mila will go there soon, but first, she has business here.

“Uncle,” she says.

He makes a sound of acknowledgement, crossed between a grunt and a groan. He knows what's coming. She kneels at his feet and touches his hand in a sign of humbleness, reverence, and familial love all at once.

“Uncle,” she repeats. “Dean has done nothing but try to please Father, but still, he’s being stubborn…will you talk to him? Please?”

Tahatan sighs deeply. “You must understand your father, child. The decision you’ve made affects us all.”

“I do understand, Uncle. But the truth of it is, none of you have given Dean a chance to prove himself.”

“His chance is right now,” Tahatan says, his tone more stern. “Have I not been gracious? Did I not allow him to stay and live among us?”

“Yes, but you continue to judge him in your mind, like everyone else,” she says. The Chief remains quiet. She moves to stand before him, holding his gaze directly. “Let us perform the Huŋkápi.”

Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. Her people first created the tradition to make peace between Lakota and rival tribes, like the Ree. It can even be used to unite extended families within the tribe, especially in times of marriage. There is no better time for it, she thinks.

The Chief shakes his head. “Kimmímila.”

“Is he not my husband?” she says. “In the eyes of our people, this is the joining of two families, and accepting an outsider into our tribe. That is exactly what the ceremony is for.”

“He has no family,” Tahatan snaps. “It is not exactly the tradition.”

“Then let us make it new,” she argues.

Tahatan hesitates. He shakes his head and rubs at his chin in a gesture of long-suffering. He thanks the spirits that he never had daughters. While he loves his niece, he has never envied his brother.

“I will think on it,” he says.

Mila frowns, but she tries her best to accept this, for now. She thanks him respectfully and leans in to kiss his cheek. Tahatan grunts an acknowledgement and watches her go with another shake of his head, despite a small smile. Between her and his sons, they will keep adding years to his life.

On her way out of the Chief’s tipi, she runs into her cousin, Šóta. He walks with all the comfortable cockiness of a rooster among his harem.

“Good morning, sister,” he greets, even as he playfully pulls at her braid and tosses it into her face.

She flicks it away and meets him with an irritated frown. She’s in no mood to be teased, especially by him. “You’re still a child.”

“Ho-ho, hey now,” he chuckles, and he cuts off her path by standing in her way, crossing his arms. “Watch it. When I become Chief, don’t think I’ll let you talk to me so disrespectfully, my sister.”

“Just because you will be Chief one day does not make you wise,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as the snap of a blackberry vine. “And don’t call me sister. You have lost that right.”

Šóta finally becomes serious; he realizes that she means what she says.

“What are you talking about? What have I done?” he asks, more earnestly.

“It’s what you haven’t done,” Mila snaps. “If you were a good leader, you would take your father’s words to heart when he accepted my husband into our tribe. If you were my brother, you wouldn’t let the men mock him. If you were a man at all, you would do what is right. You would be guiding him right now, instead of letting the others ‘train’ him.”

She storms away from him, leaving Šóta feeling irritated, but also with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in his gut.

Mila moves brusquely through the camp until she reaches the clearing edged by the forest. There the horses are fenced in. They’ve been given their food and water for the morning, so they’re rather frisky as they clop around and graze.

She looks for Mato. Baby is no doubt with Dean today, so the Kiger mustang keeps to himself underneath a large sycamore tree. His tail flicks when she approaches, and he turns to her with a sound of greeting. She allows her hand to run along his dun-colored coat as she draws closer.

“I need you, my friend,” she whispers.

She holds his snout, pressing her forehead against his as she squeezes her eyes shut against the burn of frustrated tears. Mato bumps her shoulder with his nose, softly whinnying. She smiles, sniffling, and rubs his cheek.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

AN: Well, here we go! Sorry for ending on some angst, but here we've got the pieces in motion for a fun-filled, four-part sequel. 😂💜 Dean and Mila are both struggling in their own ways while he tries to navigate this new world he's trying to live in.

And how do you think he's gonna react to the "mystery man" trying to win her back? 😬

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

Next Time:

But she feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They are getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring.

However, she pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name.

She gasps and whips around. He is there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip.

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winchesterwild78 · 14 hours ago

Text

Unspoken Words pt 7

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, David’s court date, more fluff

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid.

*One more chapter after this. Features a time jump or two. *

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

*Time Jump 3 months*

After coming back from California I decided to move Lily and I in with Jensen. He was excited I agreed to it. Living with him in California felt perfect, like we were exactly where we were meant to be.

Lily began talking more, and Jensen insisted on paying for a private speech therapist. I told him I was fine with the one she had been going to, but he wanted the best for her.

I quickly realized it was pointless to argue with him about her wellbeing. He stepped into the role of dad without missing a beat. We were a united front when it came to Lily, but he also used his status and money to help fill in gaps.

*Flash Back to the month after we left*

We flew back for the court date for David’s attempted kidnapping. Sarah watched Lily so Jensen and I could go. He was found guilty and sentenced to jail time. There was also a lifetime protective order put in place that prevented him from any contact with Lily, myself or Jensen.

When we came home for the court date I was sick for days. Chalking it up to nerves, I did my best to ignore it. After a few days and heading back to California Jensen started to get more concerned.

“Baby, you’ve been sick since before we went to court. Maybe you should go to the doctor.” He was right, I knew he was. I was just being stubborn.

“I can’t just drop what I’m doing and go to the doctor for a little bug. It’ll pass. It always does.”

Jensen just looked at me, “Baby, please. I’m worried about you. I’ll keep Lily and you go see Dr. Pickard. Please.” I sighed, “Okay. I’ll make an appointment.”

The next day I was sitting in the doctor’s office. I checked in and sat in the lobby. A young woman was sitting to the left of me and kept looking at me. I just wanted to get in and out without issues or being recognized.

The young woman leaned forward. I knew what was coming. “Excuse me, ma’am?” I turned and smiled, “Yes?” “I’m sorry to bother you, but are you dating Jensen Ackles?” I nodded, “Yes I am.” She grinned, “I thought that was you. It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Mary. Are you two getting married?” “It’s nice to meet you too, Mary, and I don’t know. He hasn’t asked, so I’m going to say no. Not right now.” “Oh, okay. Well maybe he will soon.” I smiled as my name was called, “Maybe. We haven’t been dating long, so we have time. You have a great day, Mary.”

I walked to the back with the nurse and explained why I was there. She told me the doctor would be in soon and would let me know if any tests would be needed. I nodded and she left.

Sitting in the room I felt really dizzy and sick. Dr Pickard came in and noticed I was sweating and was pale. “Ms Y/L/N, are you okay?” “No, I feel really dizzy and sick to my stomach.”

She checked me over and asked some questions. “Okay, let me run some tests. The nurse will be in soon and take some blood, do some swabs for the flu and other illnesses, and we need to check for pregnancy.”

I chuckled, “Wow, just checking everything, huh?” Dr Pickard looked at me, “Just trying to be thorough.” She left the room and the nurse came back in a few minutes later. They took my blood, she swabbed my nose and throat and had me pee in a cup.

“I’m gonna run all this to the lab, we should have the results for everything except the blood work before you leave today. The doctor will be back shortly.” I nodded and thanked her. I pulled out my phone and sent Jensen a text.

Me: I’ve been poked, prodded and swabbed. Waiting on some of the results. I’m being checked for flu or other things. I’ll keep you updated. How are you and Lily?

Jensen: Okay, hopefully they figure it out soon. I’m really worried about you, and we are fine. *1 image sent*

Jensen sent a picture of him with a princess tiara on and Lily in her princess dress. I laughed.

Me: aww look at the pretty princesses. I love you two

Jensen: We love you too, mommy. Come home soon.

Me: I will. TTYS

After about twenty minutes Dr Pickard came back in. “Well, Ms Y/L/N, you don’t have the flu or strep, your iron is a bit low and you're a little dehydrated, and you’re pregnant.”

“I’m sorry, what? I’m pregnant? How did that happen?” She chuckled, “Um, I’m assuming you and your partner had sex. Maybe unprotected?” I sat thinking, no, Jensen and I were always so… “Oh, yeah. That one time over a month ago.” She chuckled, “That’s all it takes. So I’m prescribing some prenatal vitamins and I want you to schedule an appointment to get the baby checked.”

“Okay. Thank you for everything.” My heart beat fast in my chest. I was pregnant. Jensen was the father. Would he be okay with this? We never really talked about children. How would Lily handle this?

My head was spinning by the time I got home. Jensen greeted me at the door with a hug and a smile. He saw the bag from the pharmacy and smiled. “So I see you have some medicine. I’m assuming the doctor found something?”

I took a deep breath, “Yeah she did. Jensen, we need to talk.” He sat down beside me and took my hands in his, “Okay baby. Is everything okay?”

With a shaky breath I looked at him, “Jensen, I’m okay. She didn’t find anything devastating, but what she did find is going to change our lives.”

Jensen looked at me, eyes so full of love, “Okay, now you’re scaring me. Y/N, please just tell me.”

Tears pricked my eyes, I was so scared. “Jensen, I’m pregnant.” He softly gasped. Silence filled the room and I didn’t know what to say or do.

The longer the silence stretched on, the more anxious I got. I swallowed hard, and the tears started to fall.

“Jensen, please say something.” His voice barely above a whisper, “You’re pregnant?” I nodded. “Jensen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get pregnant. I know this isn’t something we talked about and I understand if you’re not ready. Lily and I can stay at our place and I won’t keep the baby from you if that’s what you want. I think Lily and I should go home. I’m so sorry Jensen.”

I stood up quickly and walked towards the bedroom. The tears fell fast as I felt the bile rise in my throat. I walked into our bedroom and grabbed my suitcase. Jensen was hot on my heels. He grabbed my hand and spun me around. His lips crashed on mine in a heated kiss.

I was shocked. When he pulled back he was smiling. “You’re pregnant. We’re having a baby!.” “Jensen, you’re not mad?” “What?! Why would I be mad? The love of my life is pregnant with our baby. Lily’s going to have a baby brother or sister. Oh sweetheart, please don’t leave. I want to be with you every step of the way.”

I cried harder. I wasn’t expecting his reaction. He pulled me in his arms, “Shh baby. Don’t cry, please. I love you and I can’t wait to have this baby with you. I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but I promise I’m not going anywhere. You, Lily and this baby have me forever.” He wiped my tears away and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

His hand rested on my stomach and he smiled. “I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am.” I took a shaky breath in and out, letting go of all the anxiety I was feeling.

*Current Time*

I was heading to my doctor's appointment to check on the baby and Jensen was going with me. We had been back home in Texas for about a month and Lily and I were adjusting to living with Jensen.

I was worried she would have a hard time adjusting to the new house, but she loved it. Jensen made sure he put a gate around the pool, and a safety cover on the pool just in case. He also had her a swing set built in the backyard. They both spent a lot of time outside in the backyard playing. I couldn’t wait for the baby to be old enough to play with Lily and Jensen.

I stood at the full-length mirror in our bedroom and placed a hand on my belly. I was just starting to show more and I knew we couldn’t hide the pregnancy much longer. My biggest worry was telling Lily. I wasn’t sure how she’d react.

Sarah and Steve knew I was pregnant. They were excited for us. The two of them were coming over to watch Lily while Jensen and I went to the doctor.

I was too busy looking at my growing bump to notice Jensen standing at the door. He leaned against the doorframe and watched me with a smile on his face.

He walked up behind me and snaked his arms around my waist, placing his hands on my belly. He kissed my cheek, “How’s my babies today?” I smiled and leaned into him, “We’re okay. I’m hungry, but what else is new.” He laughed, “We’ll get you a snack before we head out. What do you want?”

“Hmm, pickles, peanut butter and apples sound delicious.” He chuckled, “Okay. I’ll get it and you finish getting ready.” I kissed his lips, “Thanks baby.” He nodded and smiled.

Lily knew something was different, but we hadn’t told her yet I was pregnant. We wanted to make sure everything was okay with the baby before we told her. The appointment today was going to include an ultrasound and measurement of the baby. I was about 3 months pregnant and so far the pregnancy was going well.

Jensen was by my side through it all. He was in between filming schedules at the moment, so he was home. I knew he was leaving in about 3 weeks to head to Toronto for filming. We weren’t sure if Lily and I were going or staying home, honestly it depends on what the doctor told us.

Sarah and Steve arrived to watch Lily and Jensen and I were about to leave to go to the appointment. I was nervous but excited. This would be the first ultrasound and I was happy Jensen was going to be there for it.

Sarah gave me a hug and told me she couldn’t wait to see the baby when we got back. Lily looked at me and Sarah and whispered, “baby?”

I looked at Sarah and she mouthed, “sorry”. I just nodded.

I took a deep breath and sat Lily down. Jensen sat beside her. “Lily, sweetheart. Mommy and Jensen have something we want to tell you. You know how mommy has been sick and going to the doctor a lot? Well, mommy has a baby in her tummy. You’re going to be a big sister.”

Lily sat beside Jensen and I very still. She looked up at me, then down to my stomach, then up at Jensen. Tears filled her little eyes and she started to cry. I pulled her on my lap but she wiggled free and went to her room.

I started to follow her, but Sarah told me she’d go so we weren’t late. I wanted to go and see her, but I had to get to the appointment too.

“Y/N, honey. I’ll take care of her. You go check on the little bean.” I nodded and Jensen and I left.

The ride to the doctor’s office was quiet. I was worried about Lily and felt a pang of guilt for leaving like I did. Jensen sensed my uneasiness and took my hand in his.

“Hey, she’s going to be okay. Take a deep breath.” “I know Jensen, she was just so upset and I left. What kind of mother does that?”

“Y/N, don’t do that. You’re an amazing mother. Lily is safe with Sarah, and we had to get to this appointment. I know you’re upset, but she’s going to be okay, I promise.”

I nodded and wiped the tears that started to fall away. We arrived at the doctor’s office and got checked in.

The nurse checked my vitals and everything she needed to do. She asked how I’d been and told me the doctor would be in soon. Jensen stood beside the exam table and held my hand.

The doctor came in, did their exam and got me ready for the ultrasound.

I was so excited and nervous to see the baby. She put the gel on my belly and commented that she was surprised I was showing as much as I was. I thought it was an odd statement to make, but brushed it off as my eyes were glued to the monitor.

The doctor had a puzzled look on their face and kept looking at the monitor with an unreadable look on their face. I started to get nervous. “Hmm, that’s interesting.”

I looked at her and then at Jensen. He saw my distress, “What’s interesting?” He asked her. “One second, let me just check one more thing. Hmm, yep. Okay.”

Jensen looked at the screen, at her and then at me, “Is everything okay with the baby?” I started to panic a little because I wasn’t hearing a heartbeat. “Why don’t I hear a heartbeat?! Jensen, what’s wrong with the baby?!”

The doctor turned to us and offered a soft smile. I felt the bile rising in my throat. She flipped a switch on the machine and I heard the heartbeat. I let out the breath I was holding.

“Everything looks great. The heartbeats are strong and it looks like growth is on target. You both can relax. It looks like both of them are perfectly healthy.”

Jensen leaned down and kissed me and I turned back to the doctor to thank her, then it hit both of us. “Wait, what?! Heartbeats? Both?” She chuckled, “Congratulations, you’re having twins, and from the looks of it they are fraternal.”

Jensen chuckled, “Wow, we’re adding two babies to the family.” He kissed me again. I was filled with joy and then a wave of anxiety hit me. I was worried how Lily would handle the news of twins.

The doctor gave us pictures and we made our next appointment. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pictures. I clearly saw two babies in the pictures.

On the way home my hand rested on my stomach as my mind drifted to what life would be like with three children.

“Whatcha thinking about darlin’?” Jensen asked, breaking the silence in the car. “Just the babies and Lily. I don’t know how she’s going to feel about two babies. I’m just worried about her.”

He took my hand, “Hey, I get it. It might be hard for her at first, but she’s going to be a great big sister. When Mackenzie was born I wasn’t thrilled at first, but after a bit I loved her and protected her. Lily is going to be the same way.” “I hope so.”

When we got home We shared the news with Sarah and Steve and they both were excited. I asked Sarah where Lily was and she said in her room. “I talked to her, but I don’t know if it did any good. I’m sorry Y/N.”

I touched her arm, “No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. We will talk to her. Thank you both for watching her.”

Sarah nodded, hugged me goodbye and she and Steve left. I walked to Lily’s bedroom door and found her sitting on her bed holding her squirrel stuffy.

I walked in and sat on the bed, “Lily, honey, we’re home. Do you want to see a picture of the baby?” She turned her back to me. It broke my heart. I touched her arm, “Baby, look at mommy, please.”

She turned away and grunted at me. Jensen walked in and saw it. He walked up to me, touched my shoulder and motioned for me to come on. I looked at Lily and then back at him. I got up and left her room.

I started crying, “She’s so mad at me, Jensen. What am I going to do?” He pulled me in his arms and held me, “Hey, it’s okay. You get a snack and rest, I’ll talk to her.” I nodded and walked downstairs.

Jensen walked in her room and sat on the bed, “Hey baby girl. Will you look at me?” She turned further away. He put his hand on her shoulder, “Hey, Lily girl. Please look at me.”

She slowly rolled over and looked at him. Her big beautiful eyes red from crying. “No love Lily.” Jensen’s heart broke. He immediately pulled her in his lap and held her tight, “Oh sweet girl, no. Just because mommy is having a baby doesn’t mean we don’t love you anymore. We will always love our Lily girl. You’re our first baby, our first princess. We love you and love the new baby too. Just like you can love mommy and love me.”

She looked up at him and he wiped her tears away. “Love Lily?” “Of course we do. Forever and always. Do you want to see a picture of the baby?” She cautiously nodded. Jensen pulled out the ultrasound picture he had and showed Lily. “So, Lily, mommy has two babies in her belly. We don’t know if they are boys or girls, but there are two of them.” She smiled and held the picture looking it over. “Babies?” Jensen chuckled, “Yes, babies.”

She climbed out of his lap and ran to her closet. When she came back over she had a duck toy and handed it to Jensen, “For baby.” Jensen smiled and kissed the top of her head, “Come on sweet girl, let’s give it to mommy.”

Jensen carried Lily downstairs and to me. She hugged me and handed me the duck. I was a little confused. “She said it’s for the babies.” I smiled and nodded.

Lily sat beside me and looked at my belly. “Babies?” I placed my hand on my stomach, “Yes, mommy has two babies in her belly.” Lily looked at Jensen and then back at me. She slid closer to me, placed her hand softly on my stomach and then leaned down and kissed my belly.

My breath hitched and I looked at Jensen. He smiled and said, “See I told you, best big sister ever.”

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader

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bambi-kinos · 11 hours ago

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A question to be taken lightly but not meant to offend you or anything. But who was/ is the walrus? like in the video, in the song(s) and what can it mean, really? ( I "know" the "official" content) but I don't really believe neither wrote songs w/o meaning anything or used double meaning words for nothing. I also don't think everything has a meaning or an answer.

I think the concept of the Walrus is amorphous and shifted around depending on their moods. A meaning can't be pinned down because the meaning changes depending on the context. The most reliable interpretation of the Walrus is that it demonstrates John's mindset depending on how he uses it. Otherwise I don't think there's anything special about the Walrus in of itself.

So the official story is that John wrote I Am The Walrus to get back at the people who were convinced that every Beatles song had a special encoded meaning. John responded with one of his nonsense poems and he ended up choosing Lewis Carrol's creation The Walrus as a touchstone. Right? Right.

There used to be a post floating around waxing rhapsodic about how John modeled himself on the Walrus and Paul on the Carpenter and this was because the Carpenter could ONLY be Paul and zomg you guiz SYMBOLISM. It was all so intentional!!! (Personally I think that shit gets more and more pretentious the more I think about it.)

It's a cute idea but it's missing out on one important factor: John didn't think in those terms. There is a connection between him, Paul, and Carroll in John's mind but it would only make sense to John and perhaps Paul. When John says he wrote it to bite back at critics, who were using their Ovaltine decoder rings trying to figure out the DEEP INTENTIONAL SYMBOLISM OF BEATLE SONGS, I think he meant it. He made the Walrus a touchstone because John loved Carroll's wordplay and poetry. They were aiming for an animal motif and it fit. It was a cute shorthand nod to his genuinely sociopathic partner, John got to watch a bunch of overeducated pencil jockeys trying to figure it all out, he laughed, good times had by all. The important part is that it wasn't a big deal.

But for John there was dismay on the way. People would not shut the fuck up about the Walrus and what it meant and John is getting increasingly angry because it doesn't mean anything and now a bunch of people are getting fired up over nothing and OOOOHHH GLASS ONIONNNNNN. So John puts in the Walrus again on Plastic Ono Band, again as a big middle finger to all of these blowhards and me-tooers all pulling on his coattails going "hey John! hey John! what about the Beatles! what about the Beatles John! what does it all mean John!" So John writes "I was the walrus but now I'm John" on the track God. The Walrus itself still does not mean anything to John, he's just weaponizing the perceptions of fans against themselves. In their minds "the Walrus" represented The Beatles and John's own Beatleness and John knew that. The boomer fans at the time were absolutely convinced that I Am The Walrus was a secret masterwork of unbreakable code...simply because they didn't understand it. "I don't get it so it must be super deep!"

And the thing is John hated that kind of thinking. He appreciated mystery sure but he was a lot more invested in accessibility. He wanted art to be for everyone, he wanted everyone to invest their own meaning into art. That was why he was so taken with Yoko in the first place, because Yoko's artwork is based in creating open ended experiences where the art itself is created by the thoughts and feelings and sensations you experienced while you interact with her exhibits. You don't get in the bag to look cool, you do it so you can have the experience of being in the bag, even if it was just "well that sucked." What John loved about it was the "YES" factor, that Yoko Ono wants the audience to create the art with her by interacting with her exhibits. Art is not a static thing where you sit on your ass and stare at it or listen to it, art is the thing that happens inside your head when you hear "I am the Eggman/I am the walrus/googoo gah joob" and think "what the fuck does that mean" and then you develop a personal interpretation with your thoughts and feelings that belongs to you and you alone. (And that is why Yoko is actually kinda underrated! She was too hip for the room man. You just don't get it man....)

But the fans and overeducated idiots didn't want to do that. They wanted strict prescriptions for interpreting Beatle music. Many fans refused to appreciate I Am The Walrus for what it is: a silly and slightly lewd/violent nonsense poem John probably worked out on the back of an envelope. (Written with Paul's bottom as a table, I'm sure.) They wanted it to be more than it was instead of appreciating the joy that John gifted them by singing the song for them.

So John turned it around on them in God and on Plastic Ono Band. They want to believe in the Walrus so much? Fine. He'll kill the Walrus. It's dead. There is no more Walrus, there are no more Beatles, there is only John, and Yoko, and John&Yoko. The fans wanted the Walrus to mean something so badly that they strangled the poor thing to death and John had to put it out of its misery. That poor fucking creature, John just wanted it to amuse the children and look what the cretins made him do. The Walrus was supposed to be a cute nod to Lewis Carroll, not be a fucking Beatle thing!

It's important to note John's (warranted) bitter and volatile mindset towards the Beatles machine. I want to make a whole post about it someday but John was pretty furious and I think he was right to be. But he also chose to deal with it by killing what the fans loved. I think he was justified but also, oof.

Wrt the music video: I believe it's Paul in the Walrus costume right? George referenced this in the When We Was Fab music video where there's a left handed bass guitarist in the Walrus mask. So yes, there was a link to Paul and the Walrus in the beginning. I think this was part of John's private joke. Paul was the closest to his heart so of course Paul should get to play the character from John's favorite poet. John even references this in Glass Onion, the last time he tried throwing Paul a bone. But again, I don't think it meant anything overly deep or significant as a symbol in of itself. The Walrus doesn't mean anything innately.

But then we get into the interesting stuff: John referencing "the Walrus" in his Just Like Starting Over demo. Specifically referencing taking the Walrus back to bed! Well, well, well. And I believe there's an interesting line from Paul in 1979 isn't there where he says "I am the walrus/was the walrus but now I'm Paul" in an interview or something? I may be making that up, I'm not sure.

So what does this big slurry mean?

I think that the Walrus started out in John's mind as just a cute literary toy for Beatle fans to puzzle over. The overeducated and overeager pencil jockeys got one in the eye trying to make sense of gibberish and John got to indulge in his love of cosplay by sticking Paul in a Walrus suit. And it should have ended there, except it didn't, everyone and their dog assumed the Walrus meant something (what about the poor Eggman???) and John tried to pacify them and then that didn't work and then he goes FINE YOU DON'T GET TO HAVE A WALRUS ANYMORE. And he pulps the Walrus.

The change comes with John's shift in mood. Paul's arrest in Japan legitimately threw John for a loop IMO. That's when John started softening towards Paul, that's when Bermuda happened and his creativity came roaring back. The sudden reminder that he could lose Paul forever and then John's realization "I can steer my own ship, I'm in charge of my own life!" which resulted in John starting the process on leaving Yoko under his own power, a very vital point. John was getting his own divorce lawyer according to industry rumors. John was reemerging as the hero he needed to be to save himself and forgive Paul.

All of that culminated in "the time has come the walrus said/for you and me to stay bed again." If the Walrus charts John's inner landscape and his personal feelings towards Paul then this means he was coming out of the fugue and wanted to dote on Paul again, like he used to. Figure out where they could go from here. And it seems John was very optimistic about his future with Paul to be perfectly honest. Taking Paul back to bed after all that time? And Paul seems to have been the one who instigated it! He was still hot for John! Whew!

So all that IMO is what the Walrus "really means." I don't think it's definitive and there's lots of stuff I am definitely missing and didn't include here. Someone I used to know once said she didn't put anything past John because he read everything and kept it all stored in his head, so who knows maybe the jerk off interpretation about the Walrus and the Carpenter and Paul is true.

But ultimately it's just a word with no genuine connection to its animal counterpart and the purpose of it is as a demonstration of John's personal thoughts and feelings mostly (but not always) relating to Paul McCartney.

#the beatles #mclennon #john lennon #i am the walrus #the music #paul mccartney #beatles meta #my meta #talktalktalk #anonymous asks

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humbledragon669 · 1 day ago

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S2E3 - I Know Where I'm Going Write Up P2 - Edinburgh (1827)

I have a sneaky feeling that this might be a short one - if I try and do the first Edinburgh section as well as the next “present day” section, this is probably going to come out way too long, but let’s see.

There’s something missing for this introductory Edinburgh scene - have you noticed? This is the first time we’re introduced to a new time period without a banner on the screen to announce when and where the action is set. We do of course have Aziraphale’s voiceover to provide us with that information, so it’s not like there’s any confusion caused by the lack of a banner, I just find the absence of one interesting, particularly if you consider that the opening for the scene from 1862, likely the next time they meet after 1827 (not counting the alleged meeting Crowley calls in 1859 according to the Script Book), also differed from its flashback counterparts in Hard Times (it was the only banner to be incorporated into the scene - appearing below the surface of the water in St. James Park).

Moving on to this delightfully teenage-girl side of Aziraphale that we get to see with him writing in his diary. First thing’s first - the voiceover tells us this is volume 603 of his diaries. My first thoughts about this were along the lines of “where the hell are the other 602 and what do they contain” and “how many more were there after this one”, but the significance of the specific number used here is likely to be much simpler, and a Good Omens favourite - Strong’s Concordance. According to my research, the number 603 in the Greek version of the Concordance translates to “eager expectation, earnest longing”, which seems very fitting for a chronicle of Aziraphale’s adventures with Crowley. But wait! There’s more…

So Aziraphale is writing in his diary about the journey to Edinburgh on the 10th November (he goes on to add the year as 1827 but you can’t make out the beginning of the date very well once it’s been added). I found myself wondering if there was anything special about this date, and honestly what I found blew my mind a little bit. I cannot believe that this is a coincidence, and once more my hat is well and truly tipped to whoever discovered this gem and found a way to work it in. Because on the 10th November 1827, there was an article published in The Lancet about the lack of available anatomical subjects to work on for medical research. The article even references the high prices paid by “the resurrection men”. Don’t believe me? Here’s the link. Very sadly I could not attribute a name to the author, but I kind of don’t care. Fucking chapeau of the highest order for this little treat, honestly. As to the diary entry previous to this, I was unable to decipher it myself but I was able to figure out enough of it to Google some of the phrases. Turns out the content has already been confirmed to us by the author:

This sounds like a very exciting adventure for Aziraphale to have undertaken on his own! I love the insinuation that an attempt has been made to seduce him previously, which he rigorously objected to using a line that sounds similar in subtext to the one he utters upon Shadwell’s accusation that he’s running some sort of brothel in his book shop.

Whilst I appreciate the statue of Gabriel will be used later in the episode to provide a link between the past and present-day scenes in Edinburgh, I struggle to find any narrative purpose for it. In fact, I just end up with a long list of questions about its presence, for instance:

What is its purpose?

Why has it been built in this particular graveyard in this particular city?

Who built it?

Is Gabriel aware of its existence?

Assuming that Gabriel is aware of its existence, what is his interest in it? Did he commission it, or was it commissioned for him?

See what I mean? So many questions for an object that doesn’t really have any purpose whatsoever. I know we’ll hear Aziraphale refer to it later in the episode, but even then I don’t really see a reason for him to return to the statue when there are far bigger fish to fry in his Clue hunting. Perhaps its only real purpose is to find a reason for them being in the graveyard in the first place, though that feels pretty weak: building an entire statue as a prop for it to be used in less than 30 seconds of film just as a way to justify their existence in a particular place. There is one thing that it might be good for though:

What’s that look from Aziraphale when Crowley mentions the word “beauty” in a sentence about Gabriel? It looks a little like jealousy to me. Silly angel! I have no doubt that Crowley is just using words he believes Gabriel would associate with himself but I can understand how the angel might perceive it differently, especially given that both he and Crowley lack the ability to understand the other’s subtext when they’re not in immediate danger. I really don’t think he has anything to worry about.

I love how amused Crowley is that Elspeth shows such disgust towards Aziraphale’s clear Englishman status:

Here we have another opportunity for him to get really mischievous, and I’m not just talking about Crowley. Speaking as a fellow Celt (of the Welsh variety), I can genuinely say there’s something very satisfying about English people being shown disdain. I think it’s an ingrained, from-birth thing, because I’ve never really had to work on it, it just comes naturally. With that in mind, I’m sure David must have had a lot of fun indulging his Scottish nature in both accent and attitude towards the English. Which is all pretty ironic considering how public-school-boy Crowley sounds when he’s not speaking with a Scottish accent. I find it interesting that Crowley adopts the accent so early on in this scene - it’s immediately after he hears Elspeth speak. I suspect he does it because he understands that there’s a lot of bad blood directed towards the English from the Scottish natives, which demonstrates how much further on he is in his journey towards understanding human nature than Aziraphale is.

I also find it interesting that the angel makes no attempt to stop Crowley assisting Elspeth, instead trying to reason with her directly about the perceived “wrongness” of her actions. Presumably he knows that an argument with Crowley is doomed to failure, not least because he technically still has to file reports with Hell about his Earthly achievements. What’s also notable about Aziraphale’s attempts to stop Elspeth’s bodysnatching is that he shows absolutely no understanding of the trials that real-life people face.

ELSPETH: It’s not an easy job. If the Watch catch you, you’ll swing for it. AZIRAPHALE: Well it’s not the danger of what you’re doing. Don’t you know that it’s wrong?

Of the two reasons for not doing a spot of gravedigging, personally I’d prioritise getting caught and killed over and above it being “wrong”. Not so Aziraphale; he prioritises morals over life itself, which I suppose might come from his being immortal. And when you consider the lessons he learned in Uz shown to us in the previous episode, you might think he would have some understanding for extenuating circumstances when it comes to the lives of humans. However, there is an important difference between the actions he campaigns against here, and the ones from Uz, and that’s the originator of the actions. See, in Uz he rebelled against actions he perceived to be unjust and unfair taken by Heaven. Here he asserts the moral high ground against actions he judges to be morally wrong taken by a human. I will likely do a post specifically about the minisodes when I have completed the write ups for the three episodes containing them, but for now I’ll just say this. I think these minisodes, and perhaps the entire season (I have some more work to do there), are keyed towards showing us crucially important moments, specific to Aziraphale. Epiphany creating moments you might say. In Uz he learned that the actions of Heaven cannot be said to be Good simply because Heaven is the originator. He will come to learn in this episode that actions taken by humans cannot be categorically defined as either good or bad. In 1941… well, let’s do that one when we get there, and leave this topic for a separate blog specifically geared towards the subject, because I think I could wax lyrical about it quite a bit.

Anyway, back to the theme that things don’t have to be explicitly good or bad, but can in fact be both:

Beautifully put, and subtly done. Even this poor creature Morag can understand that you can be described as something bad whilst also having good intentions and a good nature, it’s really all about the context. Unfortunately Aziraphale will need to have the point made to him in all the more explicit terms later on in the episode before it sinks in with him, despite the fact that he specifically states he sides with Morag on her view of the situation. Some foreshadowing there perhaps.

Little side note, and this one because I haven’t mentioned anything about the sound in this part so far. If you listen beneath the dialogue in this scene, you can hear a woman coughing, pretty badly, in the background. This is another one of those little elements I so love about this show. That coughing has no relevance to the immediate narrative, most people won’t even hear it, but its presence reiterates how awful the living conditions are in the “piss-drenched patch” that Elspeth and Morag call home. The scene would be poorer without it, but you’d never know why - it’s so subtle, yet so effective. And knowing that someone out there, a sound editor and an actor at the very least, had to proactively do something for it to be included makes me feel very appreciative that we have such a committed cast and crew for this show.

Here we have an explicitly stated outline of Aziraphale’s (somewhat oversimplified, IMHO) view. To sum up:

Heaven = (unconditionally) Good.

Hell = (unconditionally) evil.

Humans = can only be considered Good if they actively choose not to be evil.

Note particularly that last point - his view doesn’t extend so far as to say that humans could be considered Good if they themselves chose to be good. No, there must be an active shunning of evil for them to fit the criteria. Pretty one sided, don’t you think? Though I’m sure none of us are surprised by this. In applying this condition though, he has automatically applied the label of “wicked” to Elspeth, purely based on her choice to do something he considers to be wicked. I think Crowley’s facial expression speaks for us all in his reaction to this exclamation:

And his counter argument to Aziraphale is rather good, isn’t it? So much more biassed towards the nuances of humanity, showing us, yet again, how much further along in his journey towards his own humanity he is when compared to Aziraphale.

I’m so glad that Crowley tries to call this out with Aziraphale, because the idea that poor people have more opportunities because of their poverty is one of the most aristocratic and arrogant things I’ve ever heard. Honestly, I’m a little ashamed to hear those words come from the angel, but playing devil’s advocate (no pun intended) I can see how these views help us as an audience appreciate how much of a change this episode causes in him. And let’s just take a quick look at his use of the term “ineffable” here. To be clear, the definition of the word I refer comes from the Oxford dictionary:

What exactly about Aziraphale’s pompous ramblings would fit with this definition exactly? It’s my belief that he knows exactly how weak his argument is at this point, and his use of this word in particular is used simply as a way of bringing a close to the argument with the (false) assertion that he’s in the right. Sort of an “agree to disagree” statement with an extra pinch of righteousness.

And so we come to the end of this section. Told you it would be a short(er) one, didn’t I? In fairness, when I started out most of the sections were around this length, and there were less of them per episode, so either I’m getting better at this, or I’m getting more pedantic/more waffly. I’m sure it’s probably one of those latter, so I am incredibly grateful for those of you that actually take time out of your day to read my ramblings. Honestly, I don’t deserve you (though I hope that Lancet Easter egg has made this one worth your while!). As always, questions, comments, discussion, always welcome. See you for the next one!

#good omens #episode analysis #ineffable idiots #aziraphale #crowley #good omens soundtrack #good omens season 2 #good omens elspeth #good omens morag

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waynes-multiverse · 4 hours ago

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Gladly 😂🫶

Loll I'm loving how you're writing his internal monologue -- matches his quirky personality well. 😂

One thing I missed when writing Beau (although he can be a lil goofball 💚). But Dean, Russell, and SB are just bound to have more hilarious inner monologues 🤣 (Russ did remind me a lot of PH Dean because of the blatant sneakiness. He's a little shit too lol)

Again, lmao great personality color, and so freakin' relatable!

His paranoia and suspicion was so fun to write throughout lol

LOLL. That's so very Colter. 😂

He was definitely not happy with Russell in this part 😅 LMAO. Classified, indeed. 😏 Can I hope for one of your legendary flashbacks in the future??

Welp, I might have caught the flashback bug. I went with a whole prequel this time 😂 (And of course, the kitchen island story comes back up in detail 😏) Most of the references to their past are actually stories in the prequel series. Was fun (and a bit insane) to wove 'em all in 🤪

Russ just HAD to bring up Reenie multiple times, didn't he? It's feeling very much The Misadventures of Russ and Colter, and I'm so here for it. 🤣

Bahaha totally! They're a bit of chaotic team 😂 I loved writing all the teasing about Reenie. Of course Russell wouldn't let that go (also a great deflection from his own problems lol)

(Also, not the "midlife crisis beard" 🤣)

lmao it comes back too 🤣🤣

But OMG they were married?!!! And why would she send the papers just to get his attention? Good Lord, so many questions…

Hahaha I loved dropping that casual reveal in there 😆 He was already so vague about how long they were actually together, this didn't feel like a big stretch lol

Ahh, makes sense. It tracks that Russ would be hard to pry open, even to someone he loves and has been in such close quarters with him for such a long time. (LOL Denver Airport. 👌🏽)

Yes, although reader knows pretty much everything about his backstory and his family. It was more that he was pretending it didn't bother or affect him, even though she could clearly see that it did until the dorment volcano became active again... 👀

It's so sweet to think Russ had a surrogate dad that actually treated him like a normal kid, teaching him how to throw a football, etc.

Yup, my heart couldn't take him being entirely alone for every holiday and birthday for over twenty years 😭 Totally makes sense too that he would "imprint" on reader's family and view them as his 🥹

Oh my GODD. They have a son together too?? What the hell happened between them? She left and took their son with her?

Well, we get into all of that in the next few parts... 😅

My heart is truly breaking for him, and now I need to know what the hell he did to make her actually leave him, even though they have two kids. 😭😭

Honestly, writing this scene wrecked me. He didn't even know if he had a daughter or second son like... 🤯😭 But I tried to show throughout that their life wasn't "normal." It was her way of trying to help him, so it was less about what he did than what he didn't do 😉

True to typical Wayne, this is an intricate cobweb of a story, Russell AND the reader are infinitely complex, and I'm very interested to see where you take this from here. 💜

Hahaha love that I'm getting that label now! Just wait till you read the Wayn'e Version meet-cute 😂😂🫶

Thank you so much, Alex! You always make me laugh so hard! I truly appreciate this (and you) 🤍🤍🤍

The Exit Strategy – Part 2

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, minor injuries, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, a reunion, more secrets and revelations 😉

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Guess, the cat's outta the bag! Couldn't reveal too much about the reader beforehand without ruining the surprise now, could I? 🤓 Cozy up in your favorite chair with eggnog. Hope you have some lovely holidays, guys ❤️

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Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

If Russell hated one thing in this world, it was playing The Waiting Game. The thought of being helplessly stuck inside a car with his hands metaphorically tied behind his back nearly wrecked his sanity. Well, whatever was left of it, anyways.

Colter had a point. Russell knew he could be a little paranoid sometimes, but considering everything he’d seen and done in his life, who could honestly blame him? It was only natural to feel a certain level of paranoia in his particular line of work. It kept him on his toes and, therefore, alive.

But maybe it had nothing to do with the job as he had always told himself. It might have been just a family trait he had inherited. And, well, he hated that fact even more than The Waiting Game.

As he impatiently watched a set of doors once more, he pondered if he was still seeing things clearly or if his kooky mind was playing tricks on him. Adjusting to civilian life wasn’t always easy.

What normal people would see as a perfectly nice, faithful woman picking up mail from the post office, Russell saw as a dead-drop pick-up.

There was a construction crew about three hundred yards to his right that seemed to be on constant break by their lack of work ethic. They also took turns to watch the supermarket closely. Ever wondered why there was so much street construction seemingly everywhere and yet America’s roads were still full of potholes? Russell didn’t.

And then, there was the cashier who handed you a flyer of some sort, which you accepted with a polite smile and stuffed in your purse. Live drop, Russell noted as he watched you walk out of the store hand in hand with your supposed husband.

It was all so abundantly clear to him, he almost couldn’t believe no one else could see it. It certainly worried him that Colter couldn’t.

What if…

What if he was in fact seeing things? Things that weren’t actually there. Ghosts of his past. No drops, live or dead. No secret surveillance in disguises. No fake husband – just a very real one.

Was that even legal? He figured it was under your new identity.

Russell shook the uncomfortable thought out of his mind and concentrated back on you. You stopped short by a row of shopping carts, exchanged a few words with your “husband”, and headed back inside. His little brother, of course, was hot on your tail, following you back in too.

That was when several alarm bells went off in Russell’s body. His head felt like the Liberty Bell on the Fourth of July. Experience told him: If it smelled like an ambush, it usually was.

Jumping into gear, Russell’s gaze snapped to your husband, who not only unloaded the groceries into the trunk of the car but also loaded a pistol and hid it underneath his sweater vest before heading toward the supermarket again.

Russell sprung into action rather quickly then, snatching his own semi-automatic from the glove compartment. Soon enough, he heard two familiar voices flowing out from a back alley behind the main building. There was no doubt in his mind that it was you and Colter.

As he rounded the corner, he had to stifle a laugh once he saw his little brother down on the ground, straddled by your legs. Russell had found himself in similar positions with you, but they had been mostly out of pleasure.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw.”

Russell watched as your hold on his brother swayed and shock claimed your expression.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he greeted your eyes with a cheeky smile as warmth spread through his heart.

Fuck, he had missed you.

“Russell?!”

Your jaw had fully dislodged itself as you slowly got back onto your feet and let go of your prisoner. But the shock of seeing your ex here of all places didn’t last long till it made way for your anger.

“Are you fucking insane?” You stormed towards him, shoving his chest. Whoa, broad! Shit, what had he done? Spent more time at the gym? “No, wait, don’t say anything. I already know the answer to that one!”

“I’ll second that,” Colter chimed in with a groan and dusted off his jeans. He stretched his sore muscles briefly before glaring at his older brother, who only offered him an apologetic smile and a half-assed shrug of one shoulder.

“Did you tell him to follow me?” you asked and pointed an accusatory finger at his younger brother while still glaring daggers at Russell. The similarity between them suddenly struck you, and you cursed yourself for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. “What was the plan here, huh?”

“Oh, trust me, he had no plan,” Colter muttered sourly, still recovering from your attack.

Russell clicked his tongue and sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, he’s right. There wasn’t a plan. I just-… I had to see you. But once I did, well… here we are.”

Full disclosure: There might have been a little bit of a plan. Just tiny, really. Not worth mentioning at all.

You scoffed and shook your head. “You, of all people, should know better. You could’ve blown our cover. Months of work down the drain…”

“I think your cover’s still good,” Russell assured you with that same old lazy grin of his that was scarily charming and glanced at your partner. “Might wanna call off the cavalry, though.”

You shared a look with Tom, your partner during this mission.

“I’ll signal them. Clean up here,” he said, unamused, and disappeared back to the parking lot.

“Road crew in front of the store?” was all Russell asked. You confirmed it with a simple nod. Internally, he celebrated his little win. His instincts were still intact.

You exhaled a deep breath and threw your hands up. You had been so incredibly relaxed before that menace of a man waltzed back into your life – with a goddamn wrecking ball, no less. Now, the tension was crawling back into your shoulders.

“Russ, what the hell?”

Your question wasn’t filled with anger, however. You were just exhausted by today’s surprising turn of events. The life of a spy…

And probably the life with Russell, too.

“I know. I know, okay?” Russell held up two placating hands. Large hands. Warm. “Can we just talk? Somewhere… I don’t know.”

With some reservations, you still nodded. “There’s a church picnic at First Presbyterian tomorrow. It starts at one. We can talk there.”

There had never been a day in your relationship where you had denied that man a thing – till that last day at least.

“Church picnic?” Russell cocked a brow but was only met with your glare.

“Don’t mock. Be there,” you told him firmly and walked back inside the building. You still had to buy that damn milk. Covers were complicated to maintain – much like relationships.

Once you were out of sight, Russell let out a long sigh of relief, followed by a laugh of happiness. Step One was done. Only when the high of his meeting with you subsided, did he notice his brother’s exasperation.

Colter threw his hands in the air and stared at his sibling with incredulous eyes. “What the hell, Russell? What was that, man?”

“Right, yeah.” Russell bobbed his head calmly, smacking his lips. He knew he owed Colter an explanation at this stage of the mission.

“So, I’m guessing she’s not an old Army buddy of yours,” the younger Shaw started.

“No, not quite. She’s in the CIA,” Russell explained at last. He couldn’t help the grin. He was sure Colter would laugh about it eventually, too. Well, here was to hoping he would. “We worked together when we were both stationed in Baghdad. You know how it goes. We met, and a couple of hours later, we were doing it on the kitchen island of some safe house.”

Well, alright, that was braggy. There was a lot more going on than that. Best night of his life, really. But Russell considered it classified.

“Romantic,” Colter scoffed with sarcasm lacing his voice. Honestly, a part of him was happy for Russell. Another part, though, was incredibly furious for obvious reasons. “But I’m sorry – you had me stalk a CIA operative? During, what I assume is, some elaborate undercover mission?”

“It’s actually not that elaborate,” Russell quipped with amusement. “You shoulda seen half the things I’ve seen her do, so…”

“Oh, hilarious!” Colter shook his head at his childish brother. “Are you nuts?!”

“I think we’ve already established that,” Russell chuckled.

“You know, if Reenie finds out about this, she’s gonna kill me,” Colter said, and Russell swore his brother seemed close to breaking into a sweat. “Oh, you think this is still funny, huh? Guess who she’s gonna kill right after? You.”

Russell rolled his eyes at the unnecessary theatrics. “She’s not gonna find out unless you tell her, brother.”

With pursed lips, Colter nodded in defeat. “Can’t say I like you a lot right now, Russell.”

His older brother only snorted a laugh in response. “Oh, c’mon!”

“You probably would find it less funny if you had been beaten up by a 5’4” woman,” Colter continued and pressed a hand to his ribcage, wincing. “Yeah, pretty sure she cracked a rib or two…”

“Don’t be a baby. Soldier up! You’re fine.” Russell patted his back roughly and inspected the swelling nose for good measure, causing Colter to groan in pain once more. “And by the way, pretty sure she’s only 5’3”.”

“What?! No! She’s at least… 5’4”, okay? Probably even 5’5”,” Colter argued, following Russell back to the truck.

Russell’s lips rose to a teasing smirk. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself whatever gets you to sleep at night, little brother.”

“I will, thank you,” Colter deadpanned and unlocked the car. “So, you’re gonna go to this church picnic thing tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, not just me. We are going to this church picnic thing tomorrow,” Russell said with a cheeky grin and slid into the passenger seat.

“Well, you know, technically, I’ve already… found her. This is usually where my job ends,” Colter said with a tight smile and popped the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, not this time,” Russell replied, chuckling. “This ain’t a Colter mission. This is a Russell mission.”

“Oh, I got that, yeah. Thank you,” Colter said with a laugh that made his bruised ribs ache. “You know, you could’ve at least told me she was in the CIA.”

“Yeah, probably. But this was more fun,” Russell grinned.

“Did you know this whole time this was a clandestine operation?”

Russell sheepishly twitched his shoulders. “Well, not when we first got to town, but once I saw her in that outfit, I had a pretty strong inkling. I’m tellin’ ya, even if she had changed her entire life and personality, there’s no way she would have accepted Jesus Christ as her Lord and savior. I mean, maybe if she suffered a traumatic brain injury…” Russell mused and then grinned. “Or if she got abducted by aliens!”

“Oh, not the UFOs again,” Colter sighed with a shake of his head.

“It’s UAP, man. U… A… P,” Russell corrected him once again and let the last letter pop from his lips for emphasis.

“Uh-huh… Did you even need me for this?” Colter leaned back against his seat and quirked an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah!” Russell assured eagerly before changing course. He dialed his enthusiasm back a little. “Well, honestly, I just needed your op analyst. I could’ve used one of my guys, but then that would’ve flagged it with someone upstairs, so… But c’mon! This was fun, right?”

“I don’t know, Russell. I usually prefer my fun to look a little different,” Colter deadpanned.

“With Reenie?” Russell wagged his eyebrows. The huge smirk on his face spoke volumes.

“Would you stop?!”

“‘Sides, this is nice, isn’t it? Us… hanging out?” Russell’s sly grin then morphed into a much softer and genuine smile.

“I guess, yeah,” Colter reluctantly agreed and shrugged his shoulders. But the tiny smile on his face wasn’t missed by Russell.

“Alright, let’s get some fuel,” Russell announced and playfully slapped his brother’s chest. “I’m starving. We also need to find a place where we can park that Airstream of yours. Maybe get a nice fire going, drink a few…”

“What is this? A sleepover? Did you just invite yourself?” Colter really wasn’t used to family members dropping in like this, but he couldn’t deny that it felt sort of nice, too.

“Yeah, I am. I mean, you didn’t offer. Would’ve been the polite thing, you know, considering I saved your ass last time,” Russell retorted puckishly.

Colter exhaled a humorous breath, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Alright, okay… Consider yourself invited.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Russell’s nerves leaped through the roof as he set foot onto the church grounds. A part of him expected his boot soles to leave burn marks in their wake on the perfectly green and trimmed lawn, considering his extensive list of sins.

Families, children, couples, and the elderly had all gathered in front of the church. There were picnic tables, blankets, even balloons and a banner. His green eyes, however, landed on the giant buffet, his mouth already beginning to water.

That’s also where he spotted you, handing out cupcakes and slices of pie with a pious smile on your face. Your hair was stuck behind your ears, a headband keeping it tightly in place. Your dress looked the same, only the flower pattern varied, with a tight cardigan around your shoulders that hid any naked skin.

Deceptively innocent, Russell thought, causing his mouth to water for a different reason.

“You okay? You nervous?” Colter checked with a curiously raised brow.

“Nervous? Me? No.” Russell gave a quick shake of his head, but his eyes were transfixed on you. “Gotta admit. That outfit’s doing something to me, though.”

Colter patted his shoulder blade. “Yeah, might wanna keep it in your pants, Russ. Pretty sure you get kicked out for impure thoughts.”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, probably.”

The Shaw brothers then made their way over to your stand. Russell’s heart thumped louder with every new step he took towards you. And once he was so close he could smell your irresistible perfume, his smile only widened.

You, on the other hand, played your role flawlessly and pretended you didn’t know either brother in front of you. Your brows knit in question, but your devout smile remained the same.

“Gentlemen, how can I help you? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” you said and subtly gestured your head to the pastor next to you.

Russell’s brow raised in understanding. He cleared his throat. “Oh, me and my brother just moved here. Looking for a new church. Heard this is the place,” he stated loud enough for the pastor to hear. “You know, we are very devout Christians. I mean, especially my brother here. If he doesn’t pray at least ten times a day, he gets real cranky.”

Colter threw him a look but decided to play along. “Oh, yeah, I just-… I hate that. Can’t pray enough, right?”

“Amen,” you said with all the sincerity you could muster. On the inside, however, you were bursting with laughter. Leave it to Russell to make you smile brighter than the sun.

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place,” the pastor chimed in with a cheerful smile that spelled kumbaya all the way through as he shook the brothers’ hands. “I’m Pastor Jeff. Welcome to our little congregation, folks.”

“God can never have enough sheep, am I right?” Russell quipped and wondered how long you’d already been undercover, playing your dutiful role as a Christian housewife. Five sentences in, and he already was at his limit.

“That’s right!” The pastor grinned broadly. “Please help yourselves to our delicious buffet.”

“Well, lookey, what do we have here.” Russell’s eyes zoned in on a plate of apple pie, rubbing his palms in delight.

“Oh, you have to try the pie,” the pastor eagerly suggested and put an arm around your shoulders. “Our Nora here is an excellent baker. Her desserts are a real trend in our community. It is downright sinful. But shhhh, don’t tell the big man upstairs.”

“Secret’s safe with me, pastor,” Russell grinned slyly before meeting your eyes for the briefest second. “Say, do you do marriage counseling too?”

The glare you shot him had enough power to kill him from afar. You might as well have ordered a missile strike on him.

“Oh, my, yes, of course!” the pastor eagerly replied, causing your frown to deepen. “Are you married? Having a little trouble with the missus?”

“You could say that,” Russell earnestly played along and propped up his hands on his hips. “Everything was going fine, you know? And then one morning, just whoosh, gone. No explanation, no letter, no anonymous call from a pay phone…”

“Wow…” The pastor was stunned and enthralled by Russell’s colorful storytelling at the same time. You weren’t, however.

“Well, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you feigned your sympathies with tight lips and a fierce glare at your former lover. “But you know what they say, the Lord giveth and he taketh away…”

“You know, Nora here is right. Our Lord does work in mysterious ways,” the pastor chimed in agreement.

“Amen, Pastor Jeff,” you said, smiling contentiously. “Do you have any idea why your wife left?”

“Oh, I’m afraid she’s as mysterious as the Lord,” Russell replied.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you forced a tight smile. “I don’t mean to overstep, but it sounds like someone was having a little trouble with commitment.”

“It does,” Pastor Jeff agreed. “Why do you think that is?”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Russell’s head bobbed, his tongue poking the insides of his cheeks. He was definitely feeling a spotlight on him. Even Colter seemed to curiously lean in. Then, the oldest Shaw clicked his tongue. “Rough childhood.”

Amused, Colter scoffed under his breath behind him. “You could say that.”

“Oh no.” The pastor sent the brothers a pitying look and turned his attention to the younger Shaw. “And what do you do?”

“Oh, uh… Well, before I moved in with my brother here, I lived in a trailer and traveled all over the country.”

“Sounds… lonely,” Pastor Jeff stated worriedly.

“Yeah, this one is a big lone wolf. He has commitment issues too,” Russell replied, earning him a scolding look from his brother.

“Uh, I don’t think we need to overshare, Russ.” Colter gave an awkward smile, turning to you and Pastor Jeff. “He’s kidding. I don’t have commitment issues.”

“It’s a sin to lie, Colter,” Russ noted. His tone was serious, but the twinkle in his green eyes was impish.

“What happened to your face there?” The pastor cocked his head and inspected the younger Shaw’s injuries.

Oof, he looked rough. The skin under his eyes and bridge of his nose were swollen and bruised, ranging in color from blue, purple to black. A thin burgundy line also graced his throat. You had done quite a number on him.

You should kick Russell’s ass for setting you both up like this. Who would do this to their little brother?

“Uh, you know, moving boxes…” Colter stammered with a shift of his weight from one foot to the other, pursing his lips.

Russell was a better liar than him, you noted.

“Yup, walked straight into one of those wood planks,” Russell added, oozing just the right amount of charm and humor to wrap the pastor around his finger. “Tiny thing, honestly, but still got him good.”

Oh, he was so proud of that too, you could tell. He smirked right at you. Well, they were both terrible liars.

“Not that tiny. Big, big plank,” Colter corrected. Apparently, you had bruised his ego, too. “Lucky to be alive, really.”

Yeah, he really was.

“Well, speaking of taking things away, I still have to get the eggs from the chickens,” you said, segueing the conversation to an exit strategy. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, you have chickens here?” Russell enthusiastically slapped Colter’s arm. “Did you hear that? They have chickens.”

“Yeah, uh, very exciting,” Colter said, subtly clearing his throat.

“We’ve always wanted chickens,” Russell clarified for the pastor, joining you by your side as you rounded the table. It wasn’t true, though. The brothers actually had a chicken coop at the cabin when they were kids and hated it. The hens were noisy, the rooster was the worst, and it was always a mess to clean up. “I love those clucking little buggers. And now that we have a big backyard… Mind if I come along and check out your setup?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a friendly smile.

“Great. Be right back,” Russell told his brother, hurrying after you before he eloquently made a U-turn back to the stand and grabbed a plate of pie.

“Take your time,” Colter said through a pressed smile, although he wondered how long he’d be stuck here for with the pastor and your fake husband.

“Clear,” you said and held the creaking wooden door of the coop open for Russell to follow inside. As soon as it fell shut behind you two, you crossed your arms. “Okay, talk.”

“What? Here? Now?” With squinted eyes and a cocked brow, Russell looked around the small and dark space full of farm fowl, hay, and feathers.

You threw your arms up in exasperation. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk. What’s wrong with this place?”

“Nothing,” Russell said timidly and swallowed. He scratched the back of his neck. “You know, I just imagined this conversation a thousand times in my head, and it never happened in a chicken coop on church grounds.”

“Adorable,” you commented unamused, your brow knitting even more.

“All I’m sayin’ is, this just takes some time gettin’ used to…”

“Get used to it faster.”

Russell sighed. Then you did.

You softened your stance, crossed arms falling freely to your sides. “I’ve missed you,” you said earnestly and gifted him a small smile, taking in his changed appearance for the first time in detail.

He was hairier than you remembered. That you knew for sure. If you went back even further, he was also a lot broader, too. When you’d met, he was just a kid – as were you. It was only in the last few years of your relationship that he started to gain some serious muscle and really began to fill out his uniform. And all of a sudden, the tall and broad-shouldered soldier became more threatening – and more protective.

Now, clean-shaven, young, somewhat naive, and rule-following was replaced by a rebellious, midlife-crisis beard and the matching hair.

Ah, the t-shirt… Mötley Crüe. He found that thing eleven years ago at a thrift store in Arizona. It had a (bullet) hole on the left side of his lower back that you had patched – thrice. Once even with teething floss in a tent.

“How have you been?”

Russell’s head bobbed. He shrugged. “So-so.” Then he smiled. Soft and warm. The first few rays of sunshine on frozen winter skin. “I’ve missed you, too.” Then, the smile disappeared from his lips, replaced by contempt. “Got your divorce papers. Not signing them, by the way.”

“Good.” You smiled weakly. “I didn’t want you to sign them. I just sent them to get your attention.”

The relief that surged through Russell’s body was ineffable. For months, he thought he’d lost you – that you’d finally given up on him for good.

“How’s the new job working out?”

Russell’s lips drew a smirk, flirtatious charm glimmering in his forest green eyes. “What, you keeping tabs on me, sweetheart?”

You matched his expression. “Who do you think recommended you, huh?”

Russell stumped for a beat. His lips pursed, eyebrows drawing into a wondering v. “Well, they said someone did. Just didn’t think it was you.”

All this time, he’d believed you had crossed him out of your mind with a red pen as soon as you’d walked out the door that very morning.

“I told you. I’ll always look out for you,” you replied simply, a caring smile dancing on your lips. “So? Did it help? Are you any closer?”

“Yeah, guess so…” He paused for a moment, his gaze focused on the tips of his boots as he thought. “Not sure it was worth it, though. Actually, I’m fucking sure it wasn’t.”

You exhaled a long breath. You knew this day would come eventually. You knew he’d come back for you. Granted, you had expected him on your goddamn doorstep years ago, but he never showed. Sending divorce papers was a last resort in hopes he’d wake up then. That had been nine months ago.

“Why are you here, Russ?”

“Things have changed.”

Ah. That made things perfectly clear.

Lifting a brow, you crossed your arms again. “Is that why you brought your little brother along? As a show of good faith?”

“Kinda.”

“Poor Colter… How’s his nose?”

Russell wiped your sincere concerns away with a shrug. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. Just a scratch.”

Just a scratch…

“It’s weird… seeing you two together,” you said. For more than fifteen years, you had wondered. A part of you thought this day would never come, so maybe Colter being here was indeed a show of good faith and Russell was finally, finally dealing with his shit.

That man could easily fill the Denver airport with his baggage.

“You look good,” you noted. You were trained to control your heartbeat, but he had always made your job harder. “Different.”

His fingers brushed his beard as if to emphasize the newness. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Well, uhm, I don’t hate it,” you said rather coyly. Did you want to give him a win? No. But if he stepped any closer, you would falter. Your cheeks blushed as the tip of your shoe drew circles in the sandy ground. Why did your ears suddenly feel so hot?

Russell smiled as heat crept to his cheeks as well. “Your new look is somethin’, too.”

“God, shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re allowed to take the Lord’s name in vain here,” Russell teased. “Don’t let good Pastor Jeff hear ya.”

You laughed, scoffing. “I hate that man.”

“Pastor Jeff? I can tell,” Russell chuckled in amusement and finally stuffed his face with the first bite of pie, chewing a mouthful as he spoke. “But c’mon, he ain’t half bad.”

“Really? You don’t wanna shoot yourself after spending five minutes with him? ‘Cause I do. And it’s been months for me,” you said. “You don’t know what that man does in his office.”

“You bugged his office?”

“And the confession booth. Two words: game changer,” you said, wide-eyed. Russell whistled lowly. You narrowed your eyes at the half-eaten plate in his hands and the pie crumbs in his beard. You raised a scolding brow. “Did you really have to bring the pie?”

“Do you even know me at all? Of course I did.” Russell then shoved the last bite into his mouth to prove his petulant point. “Did you actually bake this?”

In expectant offense, you stepped back a little, crossing your arms again. “Why?”

“‘Cause it’s good.”

“Do you even know me at all? What d’you think?”

“Thought so.” Russell gave a shrug of his shoulders. “The first bite of this didn’t give me immediate food poisoning.”

“Fuck you. I’m a great cook,” you huffed but couldn’t help the grin on your face. You had missed this – the bickering, the bantering, the fun. And Russell, the sly asshole, knew that, judging by his own smirk.

“There’s a lot of reasons why I love you, but your cooking skills ain’t one of ‘em, sweetheart,” he quipped.

“I’ll use you as shooting practice, Shaw,” you threatened playfully. Russell laughed, but it sounded more secretive than a laugh about a joke. “What?”

Russell’s eyes found yours. “Nothing. This is nice, right? We slid right back into it. Like the last three years never happened.”

“Russ…” You sighed, your heart hurting. For you, they happened.

“Just saying it was easy. That’s all,” he said with placating hands. “How’s the family? How’s your dad?”

That caused you to suck in a breath. You had wondered when he would finally dare to ask. You knew this was the real reason why he was here. “Dave finally married Jill last spring. It was a nice wedding. Florence, Italy. Got to wear a sun hat.”

“That’s good.” Russell smiled softly, although it stung that he wasn’t invited. He had always imagined he would be, once your brother popped the question to his longtime girlfriend. After all, Russell was the one who introduced the couple in the first place.

“They wanted to do it sooner, but because of the pandemic…”

“They shoulda done it ten years ago. I kept telling him to lock it down,” Russell quipped, the irony not entirely lost on him. He knew even if something was locked down, didn’t necessarily mean it would stay forever.

“You did,” you remembered with a fond smile. “They wanted you there,” you added, noticing his saddened expression. “It’s just-…”

“No, I know. Don’t worry about it,” Russell brushed it off with all the coolness he could muster at that moment.

“Russ…”

“I said it’s fine,” he repeated and forced another smile. “So, how’s the old man?”

Silently, you bit your lip and sent him a look that spoke volumes.

“Uh-oh. That bad, huh?”

“It’s the reason why I moved back here. To be closer… As close as I can be with this job. Figured it was best for everyone,” you explained. “In the beginning, he had a lot of good days, you know? Now they just all seem… bad.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry,” Russell replied, dumping his empty plate by the chickens. He stepped closer.

Uh-oh. Now, you were in trouble.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Russell’s brow jumped up. “What are you sorry for? It’s your dad.”

“I know. But… he kinda was yours too, right?” Russell’s green eyes meeting yours confirmed your statement. “He still talks about you on his good days. God knows you couldn’t throw a football before you met him.”

“Hey, that’s not true. I could throw the old pigskin around perfectly fine,” Russell defended.

You snorted. “You could not,” you argued with a teasing smile. “You knew how to kill sweet little forest critters and turn your pee into drinking water. But you did not know how to throw a damn ball.”

“You’re never letting the pee thing go, are you?”

You shrugged. “It was a very memorable trip.”

Russell laughed at that. Then the melancholic sadness returned to his face. “How’s-, uhm, how’s Lewis?”

He’d made it through the list of your relatives, finishing with the most important one. And it stung so unbearably much it broke your heart for him. But in the end, you knew he’d done it to himself.

Fighting the tears in your eyes, you forced a smile to your lips. “He’s good. He’s a sweet boy. Keeps asking questions about his daddy that I don’t know how to answer…” you scoffed humorlessly but decided to forgo the pettiness. It would be so easy to be mad at him, but not even on your darkest days could you do it. “He’s starting school this fall.”

“School, huh?” Russell huffed a devastating chuckle, the tears brimming in his eyes as the lump in his throat only grew. “Shit…”

It was getting to him, you could see, and he hadn’t expected that it would. Knowing Russell, he probably figured he could push through the pain and be fine. But he had never really been fine since the day you met him – and he wasn’t this time either as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink the tears away, and turned his back to you with a hand clasped over his mouth.

“Should I stop?”

It felt like you were torturing him with a cruel new method of some PsyOp. Even if you had cursed this man for the past three years, your heart refused to see him hurt.

But Russell shook his head, finding your eyes again. He offered you a weak smile. “No, uh, don’t. Just tell me something about him, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

Sighing, you nodded in acceptance. “When my dad was better, he and Dave would take him fishing a lot. He loved it. He’s in his ‘backyard adventures’ phase,” you said, giggling softly. “He’s catching frogs and releasing them in the house. Never imagined I’d wake up with an amphibian on my head. It’s been a delightful experience.”

Russell laughed, but it was feeble at best. “I can imagine…”

And I can’t imagine I missed it all, he thought self-punishingly. But the hard part still hadn’t come yet.

“And, uhm…” Russell wrung for words, taking a deep breath. “How’s the baby? Is it–”

“She,” you stated, watching him swallow upon your correction. “Her name’s Amelia. She turned two in April.”

“Huh, girl…” His heart beat faster, grew bigger, and painfully yearned. His feet trembled to get home, wherever that was, and see them, but he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t so easy, after all. “Guess I was right…” he said with a sad smile.

You had been sure you’d have another boy. However, Russell had bet you ten meatball subs – your craving at the time – that it wasn’t.

“What happened to Ann? Thought that’s the name we picked,” Russell teased in hopes of lightening the mood.

“Yeah, well, if you wanted a say, maybe you should’ve been there…” you retorted.

Russell should’ve known winning you over wouldn’t be as simple as spelling the ABC.

“You’re the one who left,” Russell muttered finger-pointing-ly under his breath.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why,” you bit glaringly.

Russell swallowed lightly, nodding. “You’re right. I do. I’m sorry.” Pausing, his eyes glanced around the coop before he gestured with a hand at your outfit, looking you up and down. “So, speaking of the kids, what’s going on here? Thought you were done with the deep-covers,” he changed the subject with a clear of his throat.

He knew if he continued talking about what he’d missed, he wouldn’t make it out of that chicken coop for the next several hours, sobbing uncontrollably in the hay with the hens.

“I was. Had a desk job. Kinda…” A desk job in the CIA still never really was a desk job. “I was station chief in Paris.”

“Paris, huh? Fancy,” Russell said, but the joke didn’t reach the crinkles around his eyes.

“It’s the job I took after I left. We only moved back to the States in the beginning of the year,” you explained. “The kids loved it there, though. Lewis still gets a craving for crêpes every once in a while.”

Russell chuckled, even though every story added another bruise to his heart.

“Anyways, I got a job at Langley. Desk. Bought a house not too far from here, actually. It’s nice. Got a big backyard. Even bigger oak tree,” you told him with a smile. “Lewis wants me to build him a treehouse, but I’m not sure I can swing it.”

“I could help,” Russell offered, trying to keep his eagerness at bay when truly all he wanted was to race there and build the damn thing now. “I mean, if I can come by sometime…”

Your heart sank. “You can always come home. You always could, Russ.”

Home.

That four-letter word filled him with so much warmth and longing it brought back the tears in his eyes.

“So, uhm, why are you here and not there then?” This time, he switched the topic because he would’ve kissed you if he hadn’t. “You running a sting on the pastor or…?”

“One of his sheep.”

“Ah.” Russell nodded. “Need any help?”

“From you and Colter?”

“Yeah.”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, c’mon, just lemme help. The faster you get this done and over with, the sooner you can stop clutching your fake pearls and get home to the kids,” Russell reasoned.

You sighed, knowing he was partially right. You did hate your disguise as much as you hated the annoyingly nosy pastor. Moreover, you missed your children a fucking lot. It had already been three months. Fall was coming soon, and you had promised your son you’d be home by his first day of school.

“C’mon, how did they lure you back in, huh? Who’s the naughty little sheep you’re working?”

“Can’t talk about this here,” you told him, automatically lowering your voice. It was hard to remember who you were right now, when what you were used to be was standing right in front of you.

Russell quirked a brow. “Did you bug the coop, too?”

“No, the pastor’s scared of the chickens, which is why I didn’t bother. But you never know if someone else isn’t listening. We’ve already shared too much. We shouldn’t do this here,” you insisted, and Russell nodded in agreement. He knew the dangers as well as you did.

“Then where?”

You exhaled a deep breath and thought for a moment. You wanted to see him again. You knew he didn’t just come find you to catch up and then leave again.

“Come by the house tonight. Make it look natural. I’ll invite you guys to dinner as a sort of friendly welcome wagon to the neighborhood. The pastor is gonna buy it in a heartbeat. Just give me a good reason to invite you over.”

Russell nodded in understanding. “Alright.”

Part 3: This Is a Heart-To-Heart – SOON 💚

Welp, seems like Russell omitted having a wife and two kids... 🙈😂

I'll post the next part in the beginning of the new year or straight after Polaris has finished. We'll see ☺️

Enjoy the rest of your holidays, loves! Can't wait to read your comments on this one 😉🤍

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#comment reblog #lovely mutuals 🤍#the exit strategy #russell shaw #russell shaw x reader

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