#but what about me and all this misery i feel just for living another day? its not fair.

[theflyingfeeling]

yes it's just me whining about the same thing for the billionth time, pls just scroll past nothing new to see here 👋

[friedhands]

Another year has gone by of dealing with it all

I'm tired, far too tired. Everyone I care for says they'll miss me, that I should think about how much I mean to them. But I'm tired of that pressure.

[mononijikayu]

pretending as always — ryomen sukuna.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?" He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change." "I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, cheating, unhappy marriage, crying, hurt, sadness, pain, character death, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of broken marriage, depiction of grief, depiction of cheating, depiction of death, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of misery, mention of loneliness, cheating husband! sukuna, long suffering wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 10k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says 'things change, people change.'; the playlist for this chapter alone was just so angsty. like from i'm not the only one to glimpse of us, i really went through it writing this. i decided to write only one sad fic because i feel like putting out casual, together and thirty nine almost at the same time was just really criminal of me to do. so i hope you enjoy this, though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 900;

if you want to, tip! <3

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ANOTHER HUFF RELEASES FROM YOUR MOUTH. You don’t remember how many you’ve smoked today. But you were sure that it was beyond one pack. This was the only time you could be alone, to think for yourself. To have control. The control you’ve been craving for years and years, one that you will never truly have again. You didn’t need someone to see you out here, to tell you no, to worry about your health. You didn’t need that. Not right now. You needed to be alone. You needed silence. 

You sat on the balcony of your lavish penthouse, gazing out at the shimmering lights of Tokyo. The city was alive, vibrant, a testament to the empire your husband, Ryomen Sukuna, had built. He was the man behind the biggest conglomerate in Japan—a titan in the world of business, feared and respected in equal measure. And you were his wife. 

Once upon a time, you had been someone too. A doctor with a promising career, surrounded by friends, fulfilled by the life you had created with your own hands. Your days were spent saving lives, making a difference, and your nights were filled with laughter and tenderness with colleagues who had become family. You were driven, passionate, and proud of the work you did. But now, as you sat in the lap of luxury, the woman you once were seemed like a distant memory.

Now, you were just his wife. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him—you did. You loved him more than words could express. Sukuna was everything to you, and being his wife brought a kind of happiness you hadn’t known was possible. Yet, there was a gnawing emptiness, a void that had grown over the years. As much as you loved him, as much as he adored you in his own way, you knew the truth.

Ryomen Sukuna was not a man who could be kept down, not even for you. He was a force of nature, unstoppable, always striving for more, always looking beyond what he already had. His ambition was a double-edged sword, driving him to unimaginable heights but also pushing him further away from the simple life you sometimes yearned for. 

There were nights when he didn’t come home, when he was out sealing deals or attending extravagant parties where you were merely an accessory. You’d watch him from a distance, surrounded by admirers, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. He thrived in that world of power and influence, and you knew that no matter how much he loved you, that world would always be his first love.

You tried to be content with the life you had with him. After all, you had everything most people could only dream of—wealth, status, and the affections of a man who could have had anyone but chose you. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had lost yourself in the process. You weren’t the doctor anymore, the woman with her own dreams and aspirations. You were simply Mrs. Ryomen Sukuna, a title that came with its own set of expectations and sacrifices.

As the night grew darker, you wondered what it would take to feel like yourself again. Could you ever reclaim the life you had before Sukuna, or had you given up too much to ever go back? And if you did, would you lose him in the process? It was a question that haunted you, even as you curled up in the luxurious sheets of your bed, waiting for him to return home. You loved him. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Your husband was a man to love—eccentric and electric, a living embodiment of wonder wrapped in the form of a man. His presence was magnetic, a force that drew people in, leaving them captivated by his every word, his every move. Ryomen Sukuna was a personality larger than life, his energy palpable, his enigma undeniable. He filled every room he entered, his laughter loud and contagious, a stark contrast to his own brother, Jin, who was quiet, composed, and unassuming.

Where Jin blended into the background, Sukuna demanded attention. Everyone who met him felt the spark, the electricity that seemed to radiate from him. He was unpredictable, always a step ahead, always thinking of the next big thing. His mind worked in ways that left others in awe, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was his thoughts and ideas. Loving him was like holding onto a storm—thrilling, dangerous, and consuming.

But for all his vibrance and charm, Sukuna was still a man of cold realities. His work came first, always. No matter how much you wanted to be his priority, the empire he built was what he poured most of his energy into. He was often distant, consumed by the responsibilities that came with being the man at the top. Days would pass where you barely saw him, where his presence in your life felt more like a memory than a reality.

Yet, when he did give you his time, it was genuine and honest. Those rare moments were when you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who cared for you in his own complicated way. His touch was real, his words sincere, and in those fleeting minutes, you felt the depth of his love, even if it was buried under layers of ambition and duty.

There were nights, though, when he would come to bed, slipping under the covers beside you, and in those moments, he was truly yours. Those were the times you held onto, the nights where the world outside his office door ceased to exist, where the only thing that mattered was the feel of his warmth next to you.

His arm around your waist, his breath on your neck—these were the small, intimate moments that made the loneliness bearable. In the quiet of the night, Sukuna would pull you close, and for those few hours, he was just a man who loved his wife, not the untouchable titan he had become during the day.

But as the dawn approached, you knew he would slip away again, back into the world that demanded so much of him. Those nights were a bittersweet reminder that while he was yours, you would never fully have him. Still, you cherished them, holding onto the hope that maybe one day, the man who captivated the world would find his way back to you, not just in the shadows of the night, but in the light of day as well.

If you tried slyly, you could sometimes extract details about his life—small, fragmented pieces of the puzzle that was Ryomen Sukuna. A hint here, a passing comment there. But even after so many years of marriage, he wouldn’t budge.

He was a vault, his thoughts locked away in a place you couldn’t reach, no matter how hard you tried. There were times you sat across from him, watching his expressions, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind those sharp eyes, but he was impenetrable. You didn’t know what he was thinking half the time. 

And as the years passed, you began to realize a painful truth: you didn’t know this man anymore. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with, the one who had promised you the world with that charming smile and infectious energy. That man was a memory, fading with every passing day. The man you were married to now was a stranger, someone who wore Sukuna’s face but carried a weight and distance that hadn’t been there before. He was no longer wholly yours, not anymore.

But when he was—on those rare occasions when he let you in, when the walls came down just enough for you to feel the warmth beneath his cold exterior—those moments were everything. His exterior remained hard, a shield against the world and perhaps even against you, but in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, he softened.

The bed you shared became a pure and sacred shrine, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach, where only you and he existed. In that space, the burdens he carried were set aside, and for a fleeting moment, he was just a man, your husband, the one who still held pieces of your heart.

The warmth of his body against yours, the way he would pull you close as if you were his anchor—these were the moments that reminded you of the love that still lingered between you. It was as if, in that bed, time stood still, and the distance that had grown between you disappeared, leaving only the two of you, as you once were.

And though those moments were few and far between, they were enough to keep you holding on, hoping that perhaps, one day, the man you fell in love with would return to you, not just in the night, but in every aspect of your life together.

You lay beside him in the dark, feeling the weight of the silence between you. His arm was draped over your waist, his grip firm but gentle. It was one of those rare nights when he was fully present, when the business world he ruled seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. You turned slightly, your face inches from his, searching his eyes for something—anything—that might bridge the gap that had grown between you.

"Sukuna." you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. "Do you ever think about us? About how things used to be?"

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere in the shadows. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned. "Things change. People change."

"I know, I know." you replied, your fingers tracing the outline of his hand resting on your waist. "But I miss it. I miss us. The way we were before… everything."

His eyes finally met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or a trace of the man you once knew. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar unreadable expression.

"I’m still here. I always have been." he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I never left. And you know that."

"Physically, yes, I know. But I just….It’s just." you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your voice. "Sukuna, it’s like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the man I married. You’re not the man who promised me the world. And I don’t know where he is. And I want him back.”

He didn’t flinch, but you felt the slight tension in his arm as he pulled you a little closer. "The world isn’t what it used to be. It won’t ever be what it was, you know that." he replied quietly. "And neither am I. And you know that too. But I’m still here. I’m still your husband.”

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "But when you’re here, like this… it’s different. For just a moment, it feels like nothing’s changed. Like it’s just you and me, the way it used to be. I wish we could stay here, like this, forever."

He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip on you tighten, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as if to reassure you. "This bed, our bed…." he said slowly, his voice rougher than usual, "it’s our sanctuary. It’s the one place I can forget about everything else. But you know I can’t stay here forever. Not when the world calls me, not when it needs me.”

"I know that." you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. You needed him too. You needed your husband. And he will never see it. Not even when he tries. "But I can’t help wishing you would. That maybe, just once, you’d choose me over everything else. Like you used to.”

He was silent for a long moment, his breath warm against your hair. When he finally spoke, there was a softness in his voice that you rarely heard. "If I could, I would. You’re the only thing that keeps me grounded, that reminds me I’m still human. But I can’t give you all of me. Not anymore. I have things to do too.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall silently. "I just wish… I wish you’d let me in, Sukuna. I want to know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I want to know the man I’m sharing this bed with."

He didn’t answer right away, and you knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a rare, tender gesture. "I’m here now, you know?" he whispered. "Let’s just… stay in this moment, just for tonight."

You nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. You clung to him, holding onto the warmth of his body, the rare softness of his embrace, knowing that when morning came, he would be gone again—pulled back into the world that demanded so much of him. But for now, you had this, and it would have to be enough.

It sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. What you shared with Sukuna was far from the idyllic love story others might imagine. It was a volatile existence, a solitary one. A lonely existence. There were no whispered secrets in the dark, no playful banter or stolen glances across the room. There were no soft gazes filled with unspoken affection, no tender moments that lingered long after they ended. With Sukuna, you got the raw, unfiltered version of him—a man stripped of any pretense or facade.

Sukuna was not a man of many words, and that held true even during the most intimate moments between you. He was silent, his focus intense, his mind seemingly elsewhere even as he was with you. There were no sweet nothings exchanged, no promises of forever whispered into your ear. He was a man of action, not words, and even less so when you were in bed together.

Yet, despite the lack of verbal communication, there was one thing he always maintained—eye contact. His gaze never wavered, never strayed from yours, and in those moments, you saw something in his eyes that you rarely saw anywhere else. His eyes were earnest, and that sincerity was the closest thing to vulnerability he ever allowed himself to show. It was as if, in those brief moments of connection, he was telling you without words what he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.

But even that small comfort was fleeting, a temporary solace in a relationship that often felt more like a battle than a partnership. You loved him, but it was a love laced with pain and longing, a love that left you feeling more alone than ever. Because while his eyes might have been honest, they also held a distance that you couldn’t bridge, a reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, Sukuna was still just out of reach.

So you took what you could get—the warmth of his body against yours, the rare tenderness in his gaze—and tried to ignore the aching loneliness that gnawed at you in the silence that followed. Because at the end of the day, you knew that this was the only version of Sukuna you would ever truly have. And for better or worse, you had to make peace with that.

You lay there in the quiet aftermath, your body still humming from the intensity of it all. But as the warmth began to fade, reality seeped back in. The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid. There was no gentle touch, no soft embrace to pull you closer. Sukuna remained beside you, but there was a distance, an unspoken barrier that kept you apart even when you were lying inches away from each other.

This was your life—a series of fleeting connections punctuated by long stretches of solitude. You had learned to navigate this existence, to find comfort in the small moments, even if they were far from the grand romance you had once imagined. But it was a lonely existence, one that often left you feeling hollow, as if a piece of you had been carved out and left behind somewhere along the way.

There was no pillow talk with Sukuna, no lingering in the soft afterglow. Not like it used to be, when you greeted the morning light talking and talking. The man beside you was not one for such things. He was not the type to reach out and hold you close, to whisper sweet reassurances that everything would be okay. He simply wasn’t built that way, and you had long since stopped expecting him to be.

Instead, there was just the raw version of him—the man who was silent in his love, who showed it in ways that were hard to decipher, in ways that often left you questioning if it was there at all. His love wasn’t gentle or easy; it was fierce, consuming, and at times, almost indifferent. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of responsibility, power, and the iron will that had made him who he was.

Sukuna’s eyes were the only place where you could see that truth, where you could catch a glimpse of the man beneath the exterior. Even during sex, when his body was moving against yours with a deliberate intensity, his eyes stayed locked on yours, never wavering.

There was something disarming in that gaze, something that spoke of an honesty he couldn’t express any other way. It was in those moments, brief as they were, that you felt a connection, a thread of intimacy that tied you to him, even if it was fragile and frayed.

But as much as you clung to those moments, they were never enough to fill the void. The bed, which had once felt like a sanctuary, now seemed more like a cold, empty place where two strangers shared space but not lives. You would turn to face him, hoping for something—a word, a touch, anything to bridge the gap—but he remained still, his mind already miles away, lost in thoughts you could never reach.

And so you would close your eyes, trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of his body next to yours, trying to convince yourself that this was enough, that you could live with the silence, the loneliness, the distance. Because at the end of the day, he was still the man you loved, the man who had once promised you the world.

But that promise had faded, just like the warmth that now ebbed away in the cold, empty silence of the room. And as much as it hurt, you knew that this was all there would ever be—a man you could never fully have, a love that was always just out of reach, and a life lived in the spaces between what was and what could have been.

You cry a lot about how life has let you suffer this way. The tears come in waves, usually in the quiet hours of the night when the weight of it all feels too heavy to bear. You cry for the life you thought you would have, for the love that feels like it's slipping through your fingers, for the man who promised you everything but gave you only fragments. The pain of it all has become a constant companion, a dull ache that lingers even in your happiest moments, because you know, deep down, that things will never be what you once dreamed they could be.

You knew about the women. You’ve always known. The whispers that reached your ears, the subtle changes in his demeanor, the way he would smell of a perfume that wasn’t yours. You knew about the women he took to hotels, the ones he wined and dined in the finest restaurants, the ones he spoiled with gifts and attention that you used to believe were reserved for you alone. You knew about the strip clubs, the fleeting kisses at bars, the meaningless trysts that filled the void you couldn’t seem to reach.

But knowing and seeing were two different things.

The image before you feels like a knife to the gut, twisting with a cruel precision. She’s beautiful, laughing at something Sukuna has whispered into her ear. They’re sitting too close, his hand resting on her thigh as though it belongs there.

His expression is relaxed, the mask he wears with you completely gone. This is who he really is, you think to yourself. You could feel this bitter realization curling in your chest. You feel like you were going to be sick.

For a moment, your legs threaten to give way beneath you. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. You’ve been here before. It’s one of his favorites—one you thought was yours too, where he used to look at you with that same easy smile.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, urging you to flee, to turn away before the pain can deepen. You take a step back, and then another, the darkness of the entrance swallowing you whole as you move further from the scene. It’s as if you’re in a dream, your body moving on autopilot, one step after another, until you’re out on the street, the cool night air hitting your skin like a jolt.

You keep walking, eyes unfocused, the city lights blurring into a haze of colors. The truth is, you don’t know where you’re going. All you know is that you can’t stop moving. Because if you stop, if you allow yourself to think, to feel, the walls you’ve built around your heart will collapse, and you’ll be left with nothing but the agony of what you’ve lost. Or perhaps, of what you never truly had.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you. And you clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you.

You knew everything. And yet, you pretended as always, especially when he came home. Because he always did. No matter how many nights he spent in the arms of someone else, no matter how many times he broke your heart with his affairs, he always came home to you.

And you pathetically clung to that, as painful as it was, because it was the one thing you had left—the knowledge that, for whatever reason, he chose to come back to you. That he'll always choose to come back to you. And only you.

The sound of his key turning in the lock was your cue to slip the mask into place, smoothing out the cracks in your facade. You could hear the soft rustle of his coat as he shrugged it off, the faint smell of that foreign perfume clinging to the air. It was like a slap in the face, but you swallowed the bitterness down, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Hey.” he called out, his voice casual, as though nothing were amiss. As though he hadn’t just spent hours with someone else.

“Hey.” you replied, keeping your tone light, as if you hadn’t been waiting in silence, wondering who he was with, what she looked like, if she made him laugh the way you used to.

He stepped into the room, his gaze brushing over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the couch with a book in your hands. It was a scene of domestic tranquility, one you’d perfected over the years. You’d become a master at hiding the turmoil beneath the surface, at pretending that everything was fine.

“How was your night?” you asked, the words slipping out easily, as if they weren’t laced with the weight of unspoken truths.

“Busy.” he replied, moving toward you. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to savor the warmth of his presence. This was the part you held onto—the part where he came home, where he chose you, if only for a few fleeting hours. “Did a lot of meetings. It was dull. Like always.”

But even as he pulled away and headed to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but feel the coldness seep back in, the emptiness that settled in the pit of your stomach. You knew he’d be gone again tomorrow, off to chase whatever thrill he found in the arms of someone else. 

Still, you clung to that tiny thread of hope, the one that told you he would return. Because as long as he came home, as long as he kept choosing you, there was a part of you that could pretend—pretend that it was enough, that you were enough. You knew that you were tearing yourself apart. Apart from this man. But you were stuck. You didn’t know how to get out. Not when you can’t bear separation.

It was a cruel cycle, one that left you feeling shattered and hollow, but one you couldn’t break free from. You pretended because it was easier than confronting the truth, easier than acknowledging that the man you loved was also the man who was tearing you apart. You pretended because you wanted to believe that, despite everything, there was still something left between you, something worth holding on to.

Because as much as he hurt you, as much as he used other women to fill whatever void he was running from, you knew one thing with absolute certainty: he loved you. He might have been distant, cold, and unfaithful, but that love was there, buried beneath the layers of deceit and betrayal. It was a twisted, painful love, one that hurt more than it healed, but it was real. And that’s what made it so hard to walk away.

He loved you, and it hurt you. It hurt because that love wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out others, from indulging in pleasures that had nothing to do with you. It hurt because that love didn’t protect you from the heartache, didn’t shield you from the loneliness that came from sharing a bed with someone who was only half there.

But it was love nonetheless, a sick, unadulterated, gut-wrenching love you can never truly escape even if you wanted to. and you clung to it with everything you had, because without it, you weren’t sure who you would be anymore.

So you cried, and you pretended, and you waited for him to finish his shower, knowing that when he did, you would smile, you would act as if nothing was wrong, as if your heart wasn’t breaking a little more each day. Because you loved him, too, and that love was the only thing holding you together, even as it threatened to tear you apart.

The stairs creaked with every step, and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You knew the routine by now—how to mask the pain, how to put on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the steps, and you braced yourself, slipping into the role you had perfected over the years. He’d gotten out of the shower and dressed.

Sukuna walked back into the living room, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud. He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable as he walked in front of you. You could still smell the faint scent of a perfume that wasn’t yours, the remnants of a night you knew all too well. It was as if he was mocking you. It was as if he wanted you to know.  But you didn’t say anything. You never did.

“Did you have dinner yet?” you ask him, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. “There’s still some soba I made for dinner.”

He hums in response, reaching for your hand, his touch warm but somehow distant. “Maybe later, I’ll heat it up myself. Let me stay here with you for a bit.”

You nod, pretending to be satisfied with his answer, even though you know it’s a lie. “Okay, that’s fine.”

You make some space for him to sit beside you, but instead, he lowers his head onto your lap, his body stretching out along the couch. The gesture is familiar, almost comforting, but tonight, it feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. You feel the bile rise in your throat as he closes his eyes, humming softly to himself, as if this moment is as peaceful for him as it is tormenting for you.

You force your fingers to move, to edge along the tips of his fuchsia-colored hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. The motion is automatic, a habit born from nights like these, where you pretended that everything was still okay. But as you purse your lips into a tight line, trying to keep your composure, you feel the tears threatening to spill over, the pain clawing at the walls you’ve built around your heart.

Not now, you tell yourself. Not now. You can’t break, not here, not while he’s with you.

You swallow hard, pushing down the surge of emotions that threaten to rise to the surface, and speak in a voice you barely recognize as your own. “You worked hard.”

He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light of the room. “So did you.” he whispers, his tone soft, almost tender.

His words, if they were meant to comfort you, only deepen the ache inside you. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, forcing a small, hollow smile as you continue to stroke his hair. Because that’s all you can do—pretend that this moment is enough, that his presence here is enough to make up for all the nights he’s been away, all the lies you’ve told yourself just to keep going.

He closes his eyes again, sighing softly, and you watch him, your fingers never faltering in their gentle rhythm. And as you sit there, with his head in your lap and the soba cooling on the kitchen counter, you realize that this is what you’ve become—someone who is willing to live in the spaces he leaves behind, someone who clings to the small moments he offers, even when they’re built on a foundation of lies.

“I missed you, Sukuna.” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“I know.” he replied to you, in a tone that knows. A tone that reveals it all. He knew that you know, you weren’t a fool. You were too smart for it. And yet, here you are. With him, his lying, selfish self, loved by you. “I’m here now.”

You nodded, knowing that was the most you would get from him. “I’m glad you’re home.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing, his breathing becoming more relaxed. You knew this was as close as he would come to letting you in, and you tried to take comfort in it, even though it wasn’t enough.

You lay there in silence, your hand still resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much it hurt, how much you wished things could be different. But you knew it wouldn’t change anything. He would always come home, but he would never truly be yours.

So you stayed quiet, pretending for him, for yourself, for the fragile love that still tied you to him, even as it slowly unraveled. You pretended that this was enough, that the fleeting moments of closeness were worth the nights spent alone, the tears shed in silence, the knowledge that he would never be wholly yours.

And in the dark, as you lay beside him, you let yourself believe the lie, if only for a little while. Because sometimes, pretending was the only thing that kept you going.

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EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN YOU HEARD THOSE WORDS. The doctor's words echoed in your mind as you drove home, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel. "A few months, at most," he'd said, and you'd nodded, thanked him even, before walking out of the clinic in a daze. The sky outside seemed unchanged, the world continuing its indifferent spin, while inside you, something had irrevocably shifted.

When you finally made it home, you sat down, the weight of everything settling onto your shoulders like a heavy blanket. The familiar surroundings seemed distant, like you were seeing them through a fog. The elegant decor, the soft lighting—everything was perfect, just as it always was, but it felt like a set piece now, like something you were watching from afar.

You tried to think of what you should do next, what anyone would do with such news. Should you cry? Scream? But nothing came. Instead, a strange sense of calm washed over you, like the stillness after a storm. Maybe this was it—God's way of freeing you from this misery, this life you’d never truly lived.

A miserable existence, that’s what it was. A life spent in the shadow of Ryomen Sukuna, the man who was everything to everyone, and nothing to you. The man who had captured your heart and soul, only to lock them away somewhere deep inside, where they withered, starved of the love you so desperately needed. You’d given everything to be his wife, to play the part in the perfect narrative he’d constructed, and in the process, you’d lost yourself.

The relief that bubbled up inside you was unexpected, but undeniable. You wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. No more pretending, no more aching for a love that would never be yours. No more nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering why you weren’t enough. Soon, it would all be over. You wouldn’t have to endure this life, this love, for much longer.

You decided then and there—you wouldn’t tell him. What would be the point? He was a man consumed by his empire, by his power, and you were just another piece of his world, another part of his success. Telling him would only disrupt the perfect narrative he had written for himself, and you couldn’t bear to see the indifference in his eyes when he realized that your story was ending.

No, you would continue to be his wife. You would play your part until the very end, letting yourself fade quietly from the narrative, just as you had faded from his heart. And maybe, when it was all over, when you were gone, he might feel something—a twinge of regret, perhaps. But that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

In the stillness of your home, a peculiar sense of peace enveloped you. The silence was heavy, but it was a silence of your own making, one that spoke of an end and a release. You had loved Sukuna with a depth that was both profound and consuming. Your love for him was a force that had shaped your days and your nights, driving you to care for him in ways that went unnoticed and unappreciated. 

But as you faced the reality of your impending departure, a bittersweet calm settled over you. The weight of your unrequited love, the fatigue of constantly giving without receiving, was finally lifting. You had poured your heart into a relationship where your love was met with indifference and infidelity. You had tried to make him see, tried to make him understand, but in the end, the love you gave was never truly reciprocated in the way you had hoped.

Now, as the days dwindle and the finality of your situation becomes undeniable, you found a strange comfort in knowing that the end was near. The thought of liberation from a love that had only ever been one-sided was both heart-wrenching and soothing. You were tired of the endless cycle of giving and waiting, of hoping for something that would never come. And in the quiet of your home, you felt a sense of relief at the prospect of being free from this endless cycle of emotional exhaustion.

That night, when Sukuna returned home, you greeted him with a facade of normalcy. Despite the heavy burden of your knowledge, you smiled at him with a warmth that belied your inner turmoil. You continued to dote on him, serving him his favorite dishes with the same loving care you always had. Every gesture, every touch, every look was a continuation of the role you had played for so long.

You carried on as if nothing had changed, maintaining the pretense of a happy, loving wife. Your actions were deliberate, a final testament to the depth of your love and the extent of your sacrifice. You wanted to give him one last glimpse of the love he had taken for granted, to remind him of what he would be losing, even if he would never fully grasp it until it was too late.

You went through the motions of daily life, engaging with him, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. The facade was not just for him, but for yourself as well—a way to preserve a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions. You wanted to leave him with the memory of a wife who had loved him deeply, who had cared for him until the very end, despite everything.

In the quiet moments alone, after he had gone to bed, you would sit in the darkness, feeling the weight of your impending departure. You would reflect on the years you had spent loving him, on the moments of joy and sorrow that had shaped your relationship. And as you faced the end, you found a strange sort of solace in knowing that you would finally be free from the constraints of a love that had never truly been mutual.

The peace you felt was not without pain, but it was a relief nonetheless. You had loved Sukuna with all that you were, and now, as you prepared to leave, you took comfort in the knowledge that you would soon be free from the sadness and longing that had defined your existence.

Sukuna looked up from his plate, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He could see a flicker of something in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You seem... unusually happy tonight,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of both surprise and suspicion. “Is something going on?”

You met his gaze, a faint smile on your lips that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s been a long time since we had a dinner like this, just the two of us.”

Sukuna’s brow furrowed as he studied you. “Yeah, it has. We’ve been so wrapped up in our own worlds that it’s easy to forget what it was like before everything got so complicated.”

You nodded, your fingers nervously twisting the edge of your napkin. “I’ve missed this—being with you like this, without all the distractions and complications. It feels like a rare moment of normalcy in the chaos.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, but there was an edge of concern in his eyes. “You seem more at peace than usual. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting... different lately.”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “I’ve just been reflecting on things. It’s strange how time changes everything, how we lose sight of what really matters until it’s almost too late.”

Sukuna’s gaze grew more intense, his unease palpable. “Reflecting on what? You’ve been acting like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. “It’s just... I’ve been thinking about how we’ve lost touch with each other. How we’ve let life get in the way of what really matters.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours, trying to grasp the depth of your words. “Are you saying there’s something wrong? Something you’re not telling me?”

You looked away, your smile faltering. “It’s not about something wrong. It’s about realizing that sometimes, we need to appreciate the moments we have, even if they’re fleeting.”

Sukuna’s confusion deepened, his concern growing. “You’re scaring me. Why are you talking like this? What’s going on?”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart aching with the weight of the truth you couldn’t reveal. “I’ve just been feeling... reflective. It’s hard to explain, but I’m grateful for these moments, even if they’re all we have left.”

Sukuna reached out, his hand gently grasping yours. “Are you trying to tell me something? You’re acting like this is a goodbye.”

You pulled your hand away, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “It’s not a goodbye. It’s just... a realization. I want to make the most of the time we have, to cherish these moments together.”

Sukuna’s face fell, his worry evident. “You’re making it sound like something terrible is happening. If there’s something you’re hiding, you need to tell me.”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to smile through the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about hiding anything. It’s about acknowledging that even when things are difficult, we can still find moments of happiness. I wanted tonight to be one of those moments.”

Sukuna looked at you with a mixture of sadness and confusion, his frustration clear. “You’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

You stood up from the table, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer. You smiled at him. And even at that moment, he noticed. He noticed it didn’t go up to your eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I just needed you to understand that despite everything, I’ve always cherished our time together.”

Sukuna watched you with a heart heavy with concern and regret, as you walked away from the table. "Do you still want some wine?"

"No." Sukuna whispers under his breath. "I'm fine."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

YOU WERE GOOD AT PLAYING ROLES. Sukuna didn't suspect a thing. You continued playing your part, showing up at events, smiling when required, and being the perfect wife that the world expected you to be. He remained oblivious, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the subtle changes—the way your laughter had lost its warmth, the way your eyes seemed distant, even when you looked directly at him.

He carried on with his life, his empire growing ever larger, his influence spreading like wildfire. And on the side, there was her—the woman he met in secret, the one who made him feel alive in ways that you no longer could. He didn’t care to hide it anymore, not really. He knew you knew, but in his mind, it didn’t matter. You were his wife, his possession, and that was enough.

The restaurant was bathed in a warm, subdued light, its cozy ambiance a stark contrast to the storm brewing in Sukuna's heart. He sat across from his date, his smirk easy, a deliberate mask concealing the turbulent emotions beneath. His eyes roamed lazily over the flickering candlelight, his drink half-empty, the conversation flowing smoothly. It was supposed to be an escape, a fleeting distraction from the complexities of his life.

The phone buzzed on the table, its vibration slightly jarring against the relaxed hum of the evening. Sukuna glanced at it, a shadow of irritation crossing his features. He almost ignored it, but a nagging instinct—something primal and insistent—prompted him to check. The screen lit up with an urgent message, and as he read the words, his smirk faltered, replaced by a sudden, unsettling pallor.

His hand trembled slightly as he answered the call that followed.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your evening. There’s been an emergency. Your wife—she’s collapsed and has been rushed to the hospital. The situation is very serious. You need to come immediately.”

Sukuna’s mind reeled, struggling to process the gravity of the message. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, a cacophony of fear and disbelief.  “What? No, that can’t be right. Are you sure? What happened?” His usual bravado turned into worrisome, strained whispers. “My wife was healthy when I left her at home.”

“Yes, I’m certain. She was rushed in a couple of minutes ago. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it’s critical. Please come to the hospital right away.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Sukuna staring blankly at his phone. The realization of what he had just heard began to sink in, each beat of his heart echoing with a growing dread. Without a word, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Suku? What’s going on? Where are you going?” Her face is a mask of confusion and concern. “Suku–”

 “I—I have to go. It’s an emergency.” His voice barely more than a whisper, laden with panic.

He didn’t wait for any further questions or explanations. His mind was a chaotic whirl of thoughts as he left the restaurant, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside him. The drive to the hospital was a blur, the city lights streaking by in a disorienting haze. Every turn, every red light seemed to stretch time, amplifying his growing sense of dread.

Inside the emergency room, the atmosphere was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening he had just left behind. The cacophony of beeping monitors and hurried voices created a symphony of chaos that matched his inner turmoil. He pushed past the reception desk, barely acknowledging the questions they asked him. All he could think about was reaching you, seeing you, and holding onto whatever fragments of hope remained.

“Sir, you need to wait here. We’re in the middle of an emergency procedure.” The nurse said firmly, as Sukuna tried to approach.

Sukuna’s eyes fixed on the form lying still on the gurney, a sight that twisted his insides with a profound ache. The resuscitation efforts were intense, a desperate dance between life and death. He felt a profound sense of helplessness, the cold efficiency of the medical staff contrasting sharply with his own emotional chaos.

 “Please, I need to be with her. I have to—” His voice breaking, a raw plea. “Please let me through—”

“Sir, we need to focus on the procedure. You can’t be in the way.”

Sukuna was forced to retreat, his heart sinking as he slumped against the wall, his fists clenched in frustration and fear. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like an eternity. He stared at the closed doors of the emergency room, the gnawing fear that he might lose you forever consuming him.

In the cold, stark hallway of the hospital, Sukuna felt his world unraveling. The veneer of control and dominance he had always relied on was gone, replaced by a gut-wrenching vulnerability he had never before experienced. He was left alone with his thoughts, confronting the painful truth that he had been given a chance to face his own failures and regrets.

Everything they could, they tried—but it wasn’t enough. He could see it in their eyes, in the frantic movements that were becoming more desperate by the second. He shouted at them, his voice rising to a roar, demanding they do something, anything. He wasn’t used to feeling powerless, wasn’t used to being afraid. But in that moment, as he watched you lying there, unmoving, unresponsive, fear gripped him in a way it never had before.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not now, not when he’d taken you for granted for so long. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been there, always been his, and he’d never truly appreciated it. And now, as he watched the life drain from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time—genuine, bone-deep terror.

When the nurses finally stopped, when they turned to him with those solemn expressions, he knew. They didn’t have to say a word. He pushed past them anyway, falling to his knees beside your bed, his hand grasping yours, still warm but lifeless. You were slipping through his fingers. He didn’t want to free you — not yet. He needs you. He still wants you.

“Don’t do this, not yet.” he whispered, his voice breaking, something it never did. “You can’t leave me. You don’t get to leave me.”

But you were already gone. The silence in the room was deafening, and for the first time in his life, Ryomen Sukuna felt utterly and completely helpless. 

Sukuna stayed by your side long after the nurses and doctors left the room, long after the machines were turned off, and the sterile, mechanical sounds faded into an unbearable silence. He gripped your hand tightly, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, he could pull you back from the brink, undo what had just happened. But the truth was inescapable—you were gone.

The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the agony that churned inside him. Sukuna, the man who had always been in control, who had never feared anything or anyone, was now paralyzed by a fear so intense it consumed him. He had never imagined a moment like this, a moment where he would lose something so irreplaceable.

Memories flashed through his mind—moments he had dismissed, overlooked, or taken for granted. The way you would smile at him when he came home, the quiet dinners you shared, the way you had always been there, even when he hadn’t deserved it. He had grown so used to your presence that he never considered what it would be like without you.

He had thought he could live his life as he pleased, that you would always be there, in the background, silently enduring whatever he put you through. But now, with you gone, the enormity of his loss hit him with full force. It wasn’t just that you were gone—it was that you were gone because of him. He had driven you to this, with his neglect, his infidelity, his arrogance.

His chest tightened, and for the first time in years, Sukuna felt the sting of tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried—if he ever had. But now, the tears came unbidden, a raw and overwhelming response to the pain that was tearing him apart. He had lost you, and it was his fault. There was no one else to blame, no way to undo what he had done.

He thought about all the things he would never get to say to you, all the apologies that would never leave his lips. He had always believed he had time—time to make things right, time to explain, time to finally show you that you mattered to him. But now, that time was gone, and with it, any chance of redemption.

Sukuna stayed there, holding your hand, until the nurses gently told him that he had to let go, that it was time to say goodbye. He didn’t want to—he wasn’t ready to. But he knew there was no choice. Slowly, reluctantly, he released your hand, feeling a cold emptiness settle into the space where you had once been.

As he walked out of the hospital, the reality of his life without you began to sink in. The thought of returning to his grand, empty house—one that had always been a symbol of his success, his power—now felt like walking into a tomb. You were no longer there to greet him, no longer there to fill the space with your presence.

And for the first time, Sukuna understood what it meant to be truly alone. All the wealth, the power, the women—none of it mattered anymore. The one thing that had truly mattered was gone, and he was left with nothing but the echo of his own regrets.

As he stepped into his car, the weight of your absence pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity. He had never been afraid of anything before. But now, as he faced a future without you, he was terrified.

Sukuna sat in the driver’s seat of his car, the door still open as if he might somehow find the strength to run back into the hospital and reverse what had happened. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, and the first sob broke through his defenses, ragged and harsh. He slammed his fists against the wheel, the sound echoing in the empty garage, the pain in his chest mirroring the bruising force of his punches.

Each hit was a release, a desperate attempt to rid himself of the unbearable grief and regret that had settled over him like a heavy fog. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, and he felt a profound sense of helplessness that he had never known. He had always been in control, always been the one to dictate terms, to manipulate situations to his favor. But now, as he sat there, he was powerless, unable to change anything, unable to bring you back.

In the midst of his torment, memories began to flood back—painful, vivid recollections that he had buried under layers of indifference and self-absorption. He remembered the way you would spend hours in the kitchen, cooking meals with a dedication that went beyond mere obligation. You had always taken care of him, preparing dishes that you knew he loved, ensuring the fridge was stocked with his favorite foods.

He could picture you now, in the kitchen of your shared home, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, your face focused and serene. The way you’d hum softly to yourself, the warmth of the kitchen contrasting with the coldness that seemed to have crept into his heart over the years. Every meal you made was a labor of love, a testament to the care and consideration you had for him, even when he had taken it all for granted.

And then there were the times you’d prepare extra food, stock the fridge with ready-made meals, knowing that his schedule was unpredictable, that he might be too busy to eat properly. You’d filled the refrigerator with care, making sure he would have something to sustain him, even when you couldn’t be there. 

He should have noticed the subtle changes in your routine. The house had been unusually pristine lately, the surfaces spotless, the floors immaculate. It wasn’t like you to maintain such a high level of cleanliness without a reason. It was as if you had been preparing the space, ensuring that everything was in perfect order, as if you were orchestrating a smooth transition for him, even after you were gone.

The closets were tidier than usual, the clothes organized and neatly hung. He realized now that you had cleaned out your own belongings with quiet efficiency, not because you were preparing to leave in the conventional sense, but because you wanted to spare him the burden. You had sorted through your things, reducing the mess he would have to deal with, thinking ahead so that your death wouldn’t leave him grappling with the physical remnants of your life.

The laundry was always done, the baskets emptied and folded with a care that went beyond routine. You had taken care of it all, ensuring that he wouldn’t be confronted with chores and tasks that might remind him of the void you were leaving behind. The house had been more than just clean—it had been meticulously arranged to make his life easier, to ensure that the practicalities of your absence wouldn’t add to his grief.

In the midst of his grief, the realization struck him with the force of a revelation. You had been planning for this moment all along, your every action a carefully orchestrated preparation for the inevitable. You had thought of everything—how the house should be, how his daily life should continue without disruption, how he might cope with the void you would leave behind.

And yet, despite all your foresight, he had been so absorbed in his own world, so blind to your quiet efforts, that he hadn’t seen what you were doing. He had been wrapped up in his own needs, his own desires, oblivious to the depth of your sacrifice.

Now, as he sat there in the car, the weight of his regret felt almost unbearable. You had given him a gift of love so profound, so selfless, and he had only realized it in the harshest of moments. He had been given a chance to appreciate you, to see how deeply you cared, but it had come too late.

The house was prepared, the chores managed, the meals cooked—all to make sure that your departure wouldn’t add to his burden. And all he could do now was mourn the loss of someone who had loved him so completely, while he had remained unaware of the full extent of their care.

The realization hit him with a crushing weight. You had been preparing him—preparing him for a future without you. You had known, on some level, that your time was limited, and you had tried to make things easier for him, to ensure he wouldn’t be left entirely lost when you were gone. You had left behind a legacy of care and love, even in your absence.

The tears flowed more freely now, each one a testament to the depth of his regret. The sight of the empty kitchen at home, the pristine rows of shelves, the meticulously arranged pantry—all these things that once seemed so ordinary now felt like a poignant reminder of the love he had squandered. You had been his rock, his constant, and he had never truly valued it until it was too late.

Sukuna’s sobs grew louder, more desperate, his grief palpable in the confined space of the car. He felt as if he were drowning in a sea of his own making, surrounded by the memories of what he had lost and the realization of how profoundly he had failed you. The realization of your love, the sacrifices you had made, and the undeniable truth that he had only seen it all now, when it was too late, was a torment unlike anything he had ever known.

He sank forward, resting his head on the steering wheel, letting the tears fall harder than before, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He wished he could turn back time, could undo the mistakes he had made, could tell you how much you meant to him. But all he was left with was the crushing weight of his actions, the echoes of your love, and the empty space where you once were.

[donutz]

Yandere Catnap x female smiling critter cat reader

Request from Wattpad—! Here you go Shaymi999☆

You weren’t the only cat out of the smiling critters.

There was another one, Catnap. Though, you were very much like him.

You were barely any different from him! The only difference is that you were a girl(and maybe the color, it depends on what color you want to be).

You were quiet, sneaky, hid in the dark, interacted with others, but not so happily. Even if it looked like you hated being at Playtime co, it wasn’t that bad here.

Other than the abusive workers.

And Catnap stalking you.

You didn’t find it that creepy, but it did annoy you a little bit. Why couldn’t he just interact with you? Yet you caught him looking at you every time.

Cat instincts, that’s all. Y’know, maybe he wanted you gone because he wants to be the only cat critter.

You’ll just have to wait.

There would be times where you tried to talk to him, but he’d just walk away.

You don’t know why, he could at least just listen to you. Makes you feel a little sad.

Of course, somebody noticed. That was Dogday.

“Mew, you’ve been seeming kind of down these days, are you alright?”

“... Yea, it’s just that. Catnap’s been ignoring me. I try to talk to him, but he just walks away.”

Dogday furrowed his eyebrows a little, pretty disappointed in Catnap’s actions.

“Oh alright, I’ll try to talk about it with him..”

“Oh, thanks Dogday.”

After that, you caught Catnap right behind you staring at you. It happened quite often.

… At least he wasn’t hiding in the shadows.

.

.

.

But now, 10 years later, he’s always in the shadows.

And 10 years later, you’re here, roaming the halls just like Catnap. You wish you could check up on Dogday, but you can’t Catnap’s too possessive.

If you even tried to sneak around to talk to him, Dogday would be dead the next hour. Not from Catnap’s hands, but from the smaller critters' mouths.

You wish you could just see your best friend one last time.

But you can, just this one time. Why? So you could alert Dogday that his body will be taken over by the smaller critters.

The tinies were listening in of course, excited to finally get their fill.

Why does the only time you get to talk to him the time where you tell him how he dies? Sometimes you wished Catnap wasn’t so possessive. You feel as if he would trust Dogday but— apparently you were wrong.

“Oh.. I guess I’ll have to prepare for the future.”

You wish you could rub your head against his and tell him it’s okay. You wish you didn’t have to tell him the way he dies. You wish you could’ve just passed like the other critters.

What made you so special?

“...” You would’ve told him you’re sorry, but you know Catnap was watching. He would’ve told the smaller critters to make Dogday’s death more painful and slow.

You just want him to be put out of his misery. He could’ve just agreed with serving the prototype and he would’ve lived.

But that’s not the Dogday you know.

And apparently, the player arrived so you have to go.

Even if they were already dealing with the smaller demonic version of the Smiling Critters, Catnap was determined to kill them. Or, to hunt he says.

Catnap wants to kill the player, but wouldn’t mind you doing it instead.

Unfortunately, there were hiding spots in the play area. The place where there’s different colored blocks and random holes that the small ones come from.

You were looking for the player, and since you saw the hiding spots, you looked in them. After some time you finally spotted them.

You grabbed them and threw them on the ground. They used their grab pack and grabbed at your eye. You tried to stop them by grabbing their face, but the hand took your eye out of its place.

And for some reason that singular eye was heavily connected to the organs in your system.

The player scurried towards a possible exit in the place, and ran, leaving you to die by yourself.

Catnap thought you could handle it yourself. But you didn’t.

Not only did you being dead anger him even more. But he didn’t want to hunt anymore, he wanted to torture and kill that stupid player.

He loved you so much that he didn’t even give up your body to the Prototype. You weren’t just some toy, you were his love.

Thankfully, the Prototype accepted the fact Catnap wanted to keep you.

After that, every way Catnap planned just to spook the player, wasn’t just giving them a little scare anymore. It was supposed to terrify them. To make them feel threatened.

To make them scream whenever he came near them.

He even released his red gas to make them have horrific hallucinations.

He nearly killed them, but didn’t, he wanted them to go through the pain he experienced.

But no matter how much torture they went through, it will never make up for the death they caused.

It will never replace your death.

It will never make him as happy as he was when you made him happy.

[mollywog]

Thinking about Katniss’s friendship with Madge (and also Gale)

I think Madge is important for several reasons, but one being: She shows us that Katniss doesn't 100% 'buy' the whole merchant vs seam thing.

The mayor’s daughter, Madge, opens the door. She’s in my year at school. Being the mayor’s daughter, you’d expect her to be a snob, but she’s all right. She just keeps to herself. Like me. Since neither of us really has a group of friends, we seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sports activities. We rarely talk, which suits us both just fine.

Katniss (and Gale) are actually progress thinkers in this way. They hold biases/resentment about the merchants, but also can recognize it as a Capital driven division.

Even though Gale snaps at Madge at the start of the book, Katniss credits him with knowing ‘his anger at Madge is misdirected.’ In fact he is the one verbalizing the idea to her.

You can see why someone like Madge, who has never been at risk of needing a tessera, can set him off. The chance of her name being drawn is very slim compared to those of us who live in the Seam. Not impossible, but slim. And even though the rules were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly not Madge's family, it's hard not to resent those who don't have to sign up for tesserae.

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I've listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. "It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn't reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I'm sure she thought was a harmless comment.

Madge and Gale inspire Katniss’s rebellious actions just as much Peeta

Madge’s pin is what makes Rue trust Katniss.

I unclasp the pin and hold it out to her. “Here, you take it. It has more meaning for you than me.”

“Oh, no,” says Rue, closing my fingers back over the pin. “I like to see it on you. That’s how I decided I could trust you. Besides, I have this.” She pulls a necklace woven out of some kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved wooden star. Or maybe it’s a flower. “It’s a good luck charm.”

And Katniss is reminded of both Gale’s rants and Peeta’s piece in their games speech in the aftermath of Rue’s death

Gale’s voice is in my head. His ravings against the Capitol no longer pointless, no longer to be ignored. Rue’s death has forced me to confront my own fury against the cruelty, the injustice they inflict upon us. But here, even more strongly than at home, I feel my impotence. There’s no way to take revenge on the Capitol. Is there?

Then I remember Peeta’s words on the roof. “Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games.” And for the first time, I understand what he means.

Please also check out this beautiful analysis of Madge by @wistfulweaverwoman!

[sukunas-wife]

the Dadkuna series is great!!! Sukuna isn’t my main character that I like in jjk but this series has me SAT and WAITING for the next upload! I’ve always wondered though what momkuna and dadkuna’s relationship dynamic is. We get that sort of in how they met but what about when their relationship is established? I get the sense that obviously dadkuna would quite literally do anything for her but what exactly goes through his mind when he thinks about her?

Oh? Guess whose back 😎🤧

Me- I’m sickly too 🤭 but! The blog is picking up 🥺 and I’ve been working on this for a good time so here you go 🤍🤍🤍

(Indentions are thoughts, things he didn’t actively say out loud 🥺🤍)

Lord Ryomen Sukuna, though emotionally stunted and constipated, loves his wife. Would level cities and kill men easily if she didn’t have such a strong hold in him.

But he’s a misogynist at heart to an extent. He wants you at home with his kids being his cute little wife that he knows he can always come home to. It was your overwhelming passion for helping women who couldn’t bear children that convinced him he could let you live your life, as long as he knew he had people there to look over you when he couldn’t.

He appreciates the fact that when he’s tired, covered in blood that’s not his own, and carrying the exhaustion of his war ridden day, there you are rushing to him when he enters his temple. Disregarding your fine silk robes and the blood partly way on his body. The way you cling to him, always so happy and relieved to see him come home.

The first time he came home after being gone for so long, he remembers how you cried and held on to him, your anguished filled cries when you cried about how you thought he was never coming back, how you were scared he’d left you alone. He remembers how his hands found your waits holding you a bit away, another hand coming to cup your face, thumb wiping away your tears when he looked at you with tired eyes, “It would take the militia of this land's greatest sorcerers to even consider preventing my way back to your embrace.” Your teary eyes softened before you buried your face in his chest again hugging him and clinging to him.

He longed for that feeling of your embrace whenever he would leave you behind, he could deny it but on his way home to you, his heart ached and longed to feel your embrace and hear your praises of how he had returned. You cried no more because you were filled with that confidence he would always return.

——————

He’s a traditional man with his one form of values, not once did he long for sexual pleasure or was he consumed with lust. Misery, pain and the screams of his victims fueled him and filled him with an immense pleasure no woman’s body could ever possibly offer him.

They were all the same, sultry, scandalous, attention seeking harlots, prostitutes and women. Thinking they could better their lives if they could slip into his bed. They were wrong, every woman who he allowed to enter his bed chamber under these pretences had walked in with starry eyes and ambition. Only to cry and scream for their life while he slowly dug his nails into their flesh tearing them all apart, slowly and agonisingly. That was until he saw you that one day, any girl of age would’ve started to present themselves to him in shy or subtle ways hoping to catch his eyes. There you were kneeling out of respect in his presence, scared you had offended your lord.

‘Oh? Is this little morsel afraid?’ Fear filled and humbling yourself before him. You couldn’t look at him, there wasn’t an ounce of “I want to sleep with this man.” And yet these feelings caused a sentiment in the depths of his chest, something stirred inside him, you head captured his interest (non sexual at this point). ‘Hmm?, this will be a fine pet to break.’

You were a phenomenon in the temple, one he wanted to study, to take into his clawed hands and mould, twist, stretch and push to the edge and then just over the point of breaking to see what would become of you. Yet, once he had you in hands reach, once you were close enough for him to graze your skin with his nails… he didn’t treat you like a common daisy or water Lilly, no he took you into his hands like a Lotus floating on the water's surface. Making elegant work and taking care of your delicate bloom. You would be his delicate lotus that no one else would ever take the joy in having.

——————

“My gratifying queen, My delicate lotus, My benevolent wife.” Words he doesn’t speak so freely, he whispers them against your skin whenever you’d sleep by his side.

Delicate words and honeyed names had never once crossed his mind in his existence. Yet here he was, allowing himself to indulge in the smallest amount of vulnerability with these words. The press of his feverish kisses against your neck and cheeks between every word.

‘My little beloved pet, so tired, sleeping away the wares of today. How could something so small and insignificant like you cause this shift in my existence hm?’

The back of his hand brushing hair away from your face, nails grazing the side of your face lightly, he held you in his embrace watching you. Two arms securely around you, one supporting his head, the other kept grazing your skin. You’d stir in your sleep when he shifted slightly away from you to lay on his back. You’d become so used to his body heat even on the hottest days you’d search him out half awake.

‘My little lotus,’ he closed the space between you, pulling you into his side again, ‘rest your weary head without worries of tomorrow, I’m here to hold you now.’

He wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t even know it at that moment, but he was absolutely smitten with you in ways he had yet to comprehend. But it showed in his subconscious movements. A hand on your lower back or waist guiding you, knowing you’re close and safe.

Bringing home little jewels and trinkets he’d usually never spare a second glance . That is until a stone sparkles in the light of his flames and he stops briefly to take a close look.

My queen would look Devine with these adorning her neck. These stones would make fine pieces for my wife.

It was a shock when he came home one night waking you when he sat on the bed. You sat up sleepily while he handed you a bag of precious stones and jewels telling you he had brought you a gift, a free hand of his brushing your hair back and bringing you closer by the back of your head so he could kiss your lips.

——————

It was your wedding, there you were standing beside him in the Ceremonial Robes. You stood on his right, his eyes looking down at you.

Hmm, What an enticing display, to have my little pet dressed up so exquisitely for all to see and admire.

Even more enticing to know soon you’ll be round with my child, what an ethereal sight you will be laid out in silk robes and swollen carrying my legacy

My delicate little lotus, my malevolent queen, my gratifying and honourable wife. Perhaps these thoughts never be spoken aloud with heavy sentiment. But I vow myself to you in this instant, that I will do all to assure our future, our health, our children and our endless lives.

I will assure your hand never be left cold nor alone as long as I can take it. nor will it ever be lifted in vain or to labour. Your stomach is never empty as I will assure you have the finest wine and a feast every night if it’s what your little human heart desires, your head will always have a place to rest even if it is only on my chest. Your nights will never be cold, your days will never be short, your loneliness will exist no longer, and your heart will be mine, and mine will be yours.

It wasn’t all he told himself, but it was in the moment you felt a warm sensation against your skin, on your chest below the centre of your collar bone but above your breast was the same mark you’d seen on his tongue very few times.

Ryomen Sukuna DID NOT enjoy the thought of staining your teeth black, instead he took your hand, as if vowing and brains you, the ring finger of your left hand, the base faded to a black band, above it a snark mark matching your chest and another thin black bank, just below your nail was another black band. That’s how your little husband decided to present you as his.

Tag List: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@bofadeezs

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken :( @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

[girlgenius1111]

I'll Make It Through The Winter If It Kills Me

putellas!reader stops taking her antidepressants because she doesn't think she needs them anymore, keeps it from alexia, but she eventually finds out. super angsty, but fluff follows. warnings: mentions of self harm.

-----

You weren't stupid; you didn't think you knew better than your doctor. You were just so tired of everything feeling so... dull. Feeling so empty, even when things were good. Even when they were bad. It felt like your emotions were in sight, but just out of reach. Like you could graze them with your fingertips, the sharp sting of anger, the thrill of excitement. No matter what you did, though, you couldn’t get your hands around them. You couldn’t make the feelings stay. You weren’t sure you’d know what normal felt like if it hit you across the face, and no matter what you told your doctor, she kept encouraging you to give the meds a longer chance. 

It wasn’t really intentional on your part, to stop taking them. It just…happened. You missed one day. And then another. And then it had been a week, and even though your head ached, and you had a bit of a hard time sleeping, you felt… better. Not great, not really even good, but better. More like yourself. 

That lasted another week, before suddenly, you were back where you started. The joy you’d rediscovered in living faded away, plunging you back into a cave of misery. It wasn’t numbed now, either. It was encapsulating, suffocating. You weren’t okay, not at all. You didn’t know what to do, though. You didn’t want to go back on the medication, and you knew you wouldn’t survive if you kept going like this. You told yourself that you just had to let your body get used to the lack of the medication, and once it adjusted, you’d feel normal again. You’d been high, and now you were low, and the next step had to be a middle ground. The trouble was keeping yourself going until you got there, as well as keeping your sister off your back.

You hadn’t meant to start hurting yourself again, either. It just happened, it was just the coping mechanism you turned to. It was just supposed to be temporary, until everything balanced out and you felt normal again. It kept going, though, you kept going. Until you had to be careful about changing in the locker room, and you couldn’t go a day without doing it. It was the only thing that made you feel, the only thing that made it better. You just needed time. That was it. Just time. 

-----

“Wake up pequeña, I am not going to come in here again.” Alexia said with a sigh, poking her head in your door to find you still very asleep in bed. You both knew she’d be back in 5 minutes, ready to drag you out by your ankles, but you grumbled a response and sat up. You’d only gotten to sleep a few hours ago; sleep had evaded you, even as you felt more exhausted than you’d ever been in your life. It was just an adjustment, you, told yourself. Everything would even out. 

“If I come in there and you’re still asleep, so help me,” Alexia shouted from the hall, before throwing your door open rather aggressively. You turned to look at her blankly, wrapped up in your duvet, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your sister paused, taking a closer look at your face. 

“Do you feel okay? Are you getting sick?” She asked, entering the room and pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. You shook her off, discarding the duvet behind you and moving with as much energy as you could muster over to your dresser. 

“No, just sleepy.” You answered shortly, and Alexia narrowed her eyes at you. 

“You look sick.” She argued, crossing her arms over her chest in a rather intimidating manner. 

“Thank you.” You replied sarcastically. “Now get out, you’re going to make me late.” 

Alexia scoffed indignantly, but walked to the door regardless. “I’M going to make you late. Me. You lay in bed till the last minute, and it’s MY fault.” She mumbled, shutting the door behind her a little harder than necessary. 

She wasn’t really that bothered, but she did dramatically complain about you to Olga once she reached the kitchen. Olga, however, didn’t quite share her exasperation with you and your inability to get up on time. Instead, she saw this as cause for concern: you hadn’t been this hard to wake up since before. When things were bad, and they didn’t know. Looking back, the signs were obvious, and Olga wasn’t about to miss them again. Or let her rather emotionally oblivious girlfriend do so either. 

“Ale. She’s been sleeping a lot recently, no?” Olga asked quietly, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand to get her attention. 

Alexia looked up from the coffee she was making for you, turning to the brunette in confusion. “I haven’t noticed. She’s hard to wake up sometimes, that’s all.” 

Olga restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Sometimes, she wondered if Alexia really was oblivious, or if she was just in denial. 

“Not like this. The last time she slept this much, she wasn’t doing well, remember?” 

Alexia turned back to your coffee, stirring absentmindedly, lost in thought. 

“You think she’s having a hard time?” She asked finally. 

Olga shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s been acting a little off recently. It could be nothing though.”

“But it could be something?” Alexia replied. She was never so aware of her shortcomings as a sister than when Olga saw something she didn’t. That was the good thing about being with someone who was so different from her, though. Olga was there to make sure nothing slipped through the cracks with you, a role she’d taken on without a second thought when you moved in.

Olga didn’t have a chance to reply, because you made your way into the kitchen, reaching instantly for the coffee Alexia was making, one you knew was for you. Ale always got up a bit early to make her and Olga coffee, climbing back into bed and drinking it there. 

Alexia handed you the coffee silently, and if you noticed that her eyes lingered on you longer than normal, you didn’t say anything about it. 

-----

It wasn’t accidental that Alexia had the two of you sharing a room over the next away trip. Ever since her conversation with Olga, she’d been keeping a closer eye on you, and she wasn’t loving what she was seeing. Normally, she’d pawn you off on one of your younger teammates over away games, needing time with her friends, and knowing you needed time with yours. Now, though, her overprotective instincts were kicking in and she didn’t trust anyone but herself to keep an eye on you. 

Alexia noticed that you put on a good show, but when people weren’t looking… you looked so desperately sad that your sister longed to drag you away from the group by your ear and pry whatever the problem was out of you. She didn’t, though. Olga had given her a harsh warning before leaving, as did Alba, that you wouldn’t respond well to being cornered, to being forced to talk. You needed to come to her. So while Alexia kept you very close, she made an effort to remind you that she was there, whatever you needed. 

The first real, tangible, issue that Alexia figured out was that you weren’t sleeping. She’d passed out before you, as expected, but when she stirred a couple hours later to the sound of you sniffling quietly from your bed, she was immediately wide awake. 

You were so tired. Nothing you were trying was working, you just couldn’t sleep. It felt pathetic to be crying, but you were exhausted, you had a match tomorrow, and you just wanted your brain to turn off, even if it was only for a bit. You were trying to keep the volume down, though, because Alexia was famously a light sleeper, and her bed was only a few feet from yours. 

Your efforts proved unsuccessful when Alexia sat up in her bed, flicking the light on. She squinted over at you, finding you curled up on your side, furiously wiping at the tears on your face, horrified at being caught. 

You were expecting 20 questions from your sister. She liked to fix things, and this situation would definitely be something that worried her. Alexia surprised you though. 

Even though there were 20 questions on the tip of her tongue, she remembered both her girlfriend and her other sister’s warnings not to push you. Instead of pestering you like she wanted, she flicked the light back off, sliding out of her bed and gently nudging you over until she could slide onto the edge of yours. 

“Ale, what-?” 

“Shh.” Alexia whispered, scooching closer and cuddling up to you like she used to do when you were little, and wanted nothing more than her affection. If Alexia was feeling particularly nice, she’d let you curl up against her while the family watched a movie, or while she finished her homework. “You can’t sleep?” 

You wondered how she knew. Sometimes, Alexia could be completely dense when it came to your feelings. Other times, though, she was incredibly perceptive.  “No.” 

Your sister’s presence next to you, though, was already helping, and you felt your eyes drooping as you rested your head against her chest. 

“Do you want me to sing you a song?” Alexia teased. 

You appreciated that she wasn’t forcing a conversation now, more than you could articulate. 

“No, I think my ears bleeding would keep me up more.” You replied, laughing quietly when your sister huffed indignantly, shoving you away from her, before very quickly pulling you back into her arms.

“You like my singing, I’m a good singer.” She retorted, even as she tucked you back under her chin. “Really, nena, how can I help?” 

“Stop talking.” You murmured groggily, cuddling in closer to your sister. Alexia smiled against your head, but stopped talking, rather proud of herself for solving this problem for you, even if it was just temporarily. Even if it was just a symptom of a much bigger problem. 

You slept that night, without waking up, for the first time in a while. You tried not to let yourself think about the fact that if Alexia fixed this problem, she might be able to help you, just in general, if only you’d talk to her. 

-----

Alexia hadn’t meant to snoop. She’d done you a favor, picking up your new prescription, and she was just putting it on your nightstand. Was it possible that she opened the drawer and peeked at your old bottle? Maybe. She was glad she did it, though. Because she found it full. And everything suddenly made a lot more sense. 

-----

"Pequeña?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is this full?" Alexia asked calmly, holding up the little pill bottle and giving it a shake.

"That's- that's my new bottle." You replied, looking away from her accusatory stare.

Alexia shook her head. "No, this is your new bottle. I picked it up for you today." She held up a little bag from the pharmacy, and your stomach sank. Your sister would not like this, not at all. She wouldn't like you doing something so unhealthy, and she wouldn't like you lying about it. There was nothing you could say, she'd caught you.

"Nena, I asked you a question." Strict Alexia was making an appearance, and you kept your eyes locked on the ground in front of you. "Hey. Don't shut down on me. What's going on?" She walked closer, arms crossed over her chest.

"I stopped taking them." You said finally, looking up in time to see your sister sigh heavily, and run a hand over her suddenly very fatigued face.

"Why?"

"I just did." You told her.

"That's not good enough. This is why you've been so anxious recently? So depressed?"

You shrugged noncommittally. Alexia was silent for a minute, before her expression changed, face tightened. You knew what was coming before she asked.

"Roll up your shorts." It's given as a command, not as a request, and you backed up on instinct. "Nena,"

"No. I'm an adult, Alexia. I can make my own decisions."

Alexia regarded you carefully, her eyebrows pinched with concern. "Roll up your shorts, please. I won't ask again."

You hated when Alexia got like this. You knew she wasn't really as angry with you as she seemed, she was worried. It just felt so much like you were in trouble. Maybe because you knew you were doing something you shouldn't be. Alexia's worry always manifested as frustration, anger. Maybe because for her, she was angry with herself, for not seeing a problem sooner.

"Alexia, I said no." You turned away from her, stomping towards your room.

"Nena, come back." Alexia demanded, going after you when you didn't respond. She reached your door just as you shut it and locked it, and Alexia felt a spike of panic run through her. Your behavior over the past few weeks was beginning to make more sense and, honestly, she didn't know what headspace you were in, how deeply the lack of the medication was affecting you. If you were back to doing this, it could be bad. Alexia knew she wasn't the expert in helping you with this, but she did know that, right now, she was not comfortable with a locked door in between the two of you.

"Nena, open the door." She fiddled with the knob, even as it wouldn't budge. "I'm being serious, open the door. Now."

You weren't really hearing her. You were thinking about how disappointed she must be in you. She'd been horrified to find out that you'd been doing this to yourself the first time, almost a year ago now. She'd yelled, and you'd run out of the house, all the way to Mapi's. You'd sat on the terrace with Ingrid, talking about everything and nothing, while Mapi gave your sister a piece of her mind. You were sick, she'd told the blonde. You needed support. You weren't doing it for attention. Alexia needed to do better.

And she had. She'd apologized for yelling. She'd gone with you to every therapy appointment for two months, knowing how nervous they made you. She sat outside the room, answering emails or looking at her phone, just in case you needed her. She supported you, wholeheartedly, when you took a few weeks off from the team to focus on your mental health, as you got your medication figured out. You weren't good at communicating your needs to your sister, and she wasn't good at reading your mind, but somehow, it worked.

Repetitive pounding on the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked towards the door, half expecting to see your sister's fist emerging through the wood.

"Nena, open. Now, por favor." Alexia begged.

Your anger with yourself only grew. Your sister sounded close to tears and it was all your fault. All your fault. Shakily, you stood up from the bed and walked over to the door, unlocking it. Alexia practically fell into the room, head swiveling frantically as she looked for you. Your eyes dropped to the ground again, and you looked so small, so very shattered.

Alexia knocked the wind out of you a little with the force of her hug, squishing you into her arms and holding you tight against her chest. "You can't do that, you can't lock the door. Not right now, not when I don't know what's going on with you. Please, pequeña, I won't make you talk to me, just don't lock the door." She was pleading with you, and you'd never heard your normally very calm and collected sister so panicked. 

Maybe it was the pleading that got to you, or maybe you were just so tired of pretending to be okay. Either way, words you never thought you’d say out loud were spilling from your mouth before you could stop them. 

“I’m scared, Ale. I don’t have control anymore, I thought I did, but I don’t, and I’m scared. I’m so tired, I don’t think I can do this anymore. Please help me, I need you to help me,” you sobbed, the admission feeling both terrifying and relieving all at once. At least the responsibility wasn’t on you anymore. Alexia would take care of you, take care of this. 

“Okay, okay, nena. It’s all going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll get you help, we’ll get you whatever you need. Whatever it takes. I love you so much, pequeña, we’ll get you better, I promise.” 

Alexia kept you wrapped up tight in her arms for a while, and it only reassured you more. As long as she had you, nothing would happen. She wouldn’t let anything happen. While your sister was around, you would be safe. Even if she was keeping you safe from yourself, she’d do it, no matter what. 

-----

me: you need to stop making everything have a part 2. just make a longer one shot. 

also me: let me know what you want to see in part 2 🙂🙂

[eldritch-spouse]

Hear me out ok? In the middle of the night u just get rlly needy and horny but u dont have the guts to wake vesper up so u use his belly mouth instead to get off. Idk if im mistaken but i think u mentioned about vesper's belly mouth is awake even in the night?

[Yep, correct! Fem reader.]

TW: Somnophilia; Dubious consent then enthusiastic consent.

It's its own special type of Hell, living with Vesper.

Not because he treats you badly. Quite the contrary, as soon as you started making efforts to accept your new reality, he was the first one to volunteer any sort of help, hoping to make you feel as comfortable here as you did in your home, back on the surface. And, putting aside the volumes of mixed feelings you have regarding all this, it's... Sweet of him to at least care about your comfort.

That's not the problem.

The problem is your ceaseless libido.

Ever since you woke up in this ring, in his mansion, you've been burning up with arousal. You're always some degree of wet, sensitive, mind heading to the gutter far too frequently. You want everything and everyone, you want Vesper's touch on your body at every. Possible. Moment. You want him to slip his fingers and tongue anywhere he can and you want him to pick you up like a fucktoy whenever he pleases- Because it feels like nothing will ever sate you these days.

When you brought these concerns to the King, he was more than thrilled by the knowledge, though also a tad empathetic. It must be jarring, yes, he cooed, but you'll soon come to embrace your own desires. They're your true nature, after all.

It was... A strange conversation. To say the least.

Thankfully, Lust is the last place in the universe where you can be judged for excessive sexual cravings. It isn't the possible judgment of others that stops you from going all in, your own thoughts are what makes you hesitate.

Because, even if Vesper has made it very clear that you're to deliberately seek him out when you're bothered -No matter what he's up to- He can't possibly mean all the time, right?

It's common sense that you're not supposed to wake the Icon of Lust from a dead sleep just so you can have sex. How selfish of you! He's a King, he needs his rest.

But Gods... You're so fucking horny.

You can feel your heartbeat in your cunt. Maybe it's from sleeping in the same bed as him, where his loose fluff spreads sometimes, getting into the sheets, contaminating them. That must be the cause of your misery, in retrospect.

Well... You could get up. Look around, have a drink, return to bed after cooling off and enjoying the view from his lavish home. But you're comfortable.

And his smell... Oh, you inhale the pillow between you two faintly, it's addictive.

You don't want to get up. At all. Leaving this room sounds awful.

The tiniest bit of light creeps in through a gap in the massive curtains of your resting chambers, allowing some of the faint reddish glow of night to slink its way in, highlighting the form of your massive, recently proclaimed husband. Vesper sleeps soundlessly, a hand over his chest, the other, once holding you to his side, now dormant on the sheets, fingers periodically twitching. He sleeps bare, to absolutely no one's surprise. Legs faintly parted, offering a view you admire shamelessly in the dark. You've no doubt he has watched you like this before, so it's more than fair you get to ogle as well.

He's gorgeous. He's hot. So hot. You're married to the hottest thing that ever lived. Gods, he's such a whore.

Another flare of heat travels its way up from your loins. It would be exceptionally easy. All you'd have to do is palm at his exposed slit for a moment or two and he'd pop those treats out for you. All for you. He wouldn't even care, it's probably normal for Vesper-

With a shake of the head, you push said thoughts away as hard as possible. See? Not a moment of rest, all these gross ideas swimming around like they belong, like it's right. You're above something so rude!

But you're not above touching yourself in the same bed.

In your humble defense, you need this. You really need this, or you're going to scream and drag yourself on the ground like a bitch in heat. Panties are swiped aside with great haste, both hands quickly darting for the crux of your fire. It takes literally no effort for you to be able to slide two fingers into yourself, then three, trying to roll your clit in the best angle at the same time. It's clumsy, hurried, and unfortunately, fruitless. Instead of relieving you of this insurmountable heat, all it does is incense you further- Wishing it was more, better, bigger.

Wishing it was Vesper that's fucking your little body the way he pleases.

A whimper almost makes it past your clenched teeth.

Beside you, there's sudden movement. A large tail swatting back and forth -Wagging?- While Vesper's brows furrow and his breathing hastens rhythmically, like he's sniffing. When you halt, mortified, so does his stirring.

Idiot.

What a bright idea. As if the King of Lust wouldn't feel your desire right next to him.

Childish irritation settles in you as you sit on your own stewing arousal, sulking. Until a loud rumble jolts you, that is. After a pause of stunted blinking, you put two and two together.

While the demonlord may be fast asleep, a part of him is clearly active. Gaze falling to Vesper's abdomen, his sizeable second mouth can be seen parted, greedily flicking a fat tongue over sharp chops. It pants, a dopey sort of smile, muscle lolling as it very easily detects some poor horny sap nearby.

Or, maybe it recognizes you already. This certainly isn't your first meeting with Vesper's second mouth.

Amused, getting a couple of nasty ideas, you smile at the organ. " Hello there... " You whisper to it.

It doesn't react too much to the sound of your voice, although gleefully wets its lips and chuffs, waiting. You're sure it'll settle back down given enough time.

It's just a matter of ignoring it.

...

......

Fuck it.

Guilty eyes glance from Vesper's peacefully resting complexion to the shifting mouth beneath, and you gulp, self-control falling victim to rabid want. Again.

Slowly, silently, you wriggle out of your undergarments, keeping your breath in check as you move to straddle Vesper's abdomen. Given the size difference, and he seems to plump in a couple areas, you have a difficult time stretching your legs enough to encompass his waist.

Little does it matter, as you don't even get to sit before that muscle has already slapped itself onto your soaked cunt with a decidedly loud PLAP. Cosmic luck alone prevented you from moaning immediately. Vesper turns his face, then settles once more.

This might have been a bad idea.

The mouth is merciless on you, drool slathered on your tights, ass and belly as it gluttonously slurps at you, making lurid sounds you hope to whatever's out there won't wake the King. Terrible idea or not, it's well worth the trouble, because it's exactly the type of pressure you need to get off.

A sweet sigh makes it past your lips when shaky legs lower, having to brace your palms firmly on each side of the bed when the mouth starts smooching tenderly at your lips. How... Sweet. Cute.

Then, suddenly, it latches on. Literally. Its size allows the organ to wrap around your groin easily, applying an all-encompassing suction delicious enough to have you rolling your eyes and jerking your hips forward, nerve endings frying on a pan. God fuck yes, you didn't know it could do that!

An orgasm approaches fast, likely due to how long you've been waiting for it, building up tension. As sensation makes your lower body jerk and tense, shaky legs press you harder against that hungry maw, almost nicking yourself with bold teeth. It feels wonderful. Delightful.

Even asleep, only Vesper can make you feel this good. It's almost too funny a concept to be true.

Nothing halts the flow of keens and gasps you offer when it pauses its slurping to shove that roving muscle into your pussy, flirting with your entrance a little before feeding you more and more and more of itself, until you're groaning at the fullness. The first experimental undulation it makes is so strong that you legitimately moan out, loud and clear, dropping squarely onto Vesper and holding on for dear life as your jostled with each thrust.

You're sure you're drooling on his belly, though it hardly matters, eyelids fluttering, nonsensical pleas chanted in the dark.

" Oh fuck- Yes- Please please please, I need to come. Fffuck, I need to come... "

You're so close! It's right there, you can't wait to get licked and sucked as you ride it out, it'll be so-

" Mm, why didn't you say so? "

You don't even get to have a moment of shame when realization dawns. Large hands grab onto your hips and screw you onto the demonlord's tongue hard enough to make you see stars, the movement in your walls so frantic that you have no choice but to howl in bliss before a single excuse could flow past your parted lips.

And all you can do is flail and cry in overstimulation when Vesper continues sucking at all the arousal you can offer him.

" My Queen should want for nothing. "

His sickly magenta eyes leer at you from the darkness.

" You will come. "

It's a promise.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

My tears ricochet

Next chapter

summary: There are thunder clouds in the horizon that threaten Eris’s chance of being a high lord. Rhys strikes a deal. The only thing left to find out now is who gets out of this deal alive?

warning: death, blood, enemies to lovers, fighting, forced arrangements, talk of marriage of convenience.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Things were changing in Prythian. With the length of fea lives, high lords didn’t change often. But when the shift did happen, it was as if someone were to open a beast's belly, and suddenly everyone was on the fence; the territory was for grabs, and others could gain something from the new weaker high lord until the power fully settled in him.

“I’ll need you with me tonight," Rhys said, slowly swirling his drink in the glass. The tension could be felt in all the courts, but Rhys had been deep in his thoughts ever since the news about the new high lord had circled. “You’re in a mood to kill the new high lord of autumn already?", you mussed, making Cassian let out a snort. You had lost the number of meetings that had been held in the past week alone. And while you didn’t like Eris, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. On one hand, this, no doubt, had to be a relief. To know that the world was no longer tarnished by Beron. But the responsibility was still hard to carry all alone.

“A diplomatic meeting," Rhys clarified, making you roll your eyes, “That can be changed real quick with a dagger." But you could see the plea in his eyes. And something else. An emotion you couldn’t quite grasp. It had been there for a couple of days now. It was hazy at first, while Rhys was still contemplating it all in his head. Now, however, it was set and done, leaving a trail of unease in your gut when you caught a glimpse of it.

“I need you." You were not sure what exactly those words implied. Knowing how fond you and Eris were of one another, it was as if Rhys had planned a civil war to break out in the autumn. Unless he needed Eris to decline whatever offer Rhys was going to propose, and you were just the thing for that, “Fine, I’ll be there," you huffed, bringing the glass to your lips. Even if you knew that not even booze could make a meeting like that bearable, "I can't wait to see Eris’s face when you walk in." Azriel’s low voice filled the room, followed by Cassian’s chuckle. “You enjoy his misery way too much, Az," you said, shaking your head with a smile. “What can I say? I’m a simple man," the spymaster smiled before downing his drink.

Eris had been dreaming of this day since the moment he realized that this brutality would only end when Beron was six feet, make it ten so the bastard wouldn’t have a chance of crowning out, below. One thing he didn’t take into consideration was that the new power would rip at him from within. Leaving him quite shaky and restless. Not to mention that he didn’t have anyone to guard his back. His younger brothers were all corrupted by his father to be of any help at all.

“Apologies for your loss once again," Beron’s right-hand man clapped Eris’s shoulder. "The council will miss Beron’s presence," the other added sympathetically. No doubt, Eris thought. All the males in this room had been fed like pigs out of the same hod for decades. And Beron fed them well with promises that were never truly delivered. “But we do not doubt you, Eris," and here was the silent warning that they expected the same treatment from the oldest Vanserra. No doubt already able to sniff out Eris’s plans on wiping the council out. “Yet we are here to guide you if..." “If that’s all, I would like to end the meeting," Eris said, raising his hand. The yapping of these old men had drilled the last bit of sanity out of him today. With a flow of “Of course, of course," and “our apologies for holding you up," Eris watched them pick up their scrolls as they hurried out of the room.

The moment the door closed, Eris let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Exhausted. He was just so exhausted. If only he could sleep at night. To just… “You looked like a fox kicked by a hunter," Eris opened his eyes to the sound of a familiar voice. "Lucien, my patience is running low tonight." It came out harsher than Eris intended. He was glad that Lucien had agreed to listen in on the meetings in general. He didn’t have to. But Eris had no one to turn to. “This wasn’t that bad of a meeting," the youngest Vanserra said, pulling out a chair for himself. The meeting had barely touched on serious topics. Council had tried to swing the chatter to that, but Eris had fully focused on the food supplies and growing stock.

"Would be better if you came back to stand by my side fully," Eris pressed once more. While a part of him understood Lucien's choice, another was bitter that every offer had been declined. “You know I have duties elsewhere," Lucien replied like he had ever since Beron died. “This is home," Eris pointed out, fingers drumming against the table. Their eyes met, and Eris knew Lucien’s next words before they had even touched his lips. “This was never my home," he stated with a shake of his head.

Eris knew that, it clawed at him that Lucien had been out there, going from court to court. At the time, it felt like the best choice. To take him away from all of this. To make sure that no hits, whether physical or emotional, were ever directed at him.

“How’s mother?", Lucien cut the silence upon the two brothers. "She would have happily danced on his grave if she had a chance," Eris mussed. Both brothers couldn’t help but smile. It was crazy to think that she was finally free. No more playing pretend. Their mother was finally a free woman who could do anything she wanted. And even if it hurt to admit it, Eris knew that she too wouldn’t stay back home with him. Her heart had been elsewhere for decades already.

“Why are you still here, Lucien?" Even if Eris loved having Lucien back, he knew too well that he didn’t just linger to be there. There had to be a reason. “Can’t I come over to spend quality time?" Lucien smirked right as Eris cut him off mid-sentence, “Cut the bullshit." And here they were, back at square one. With all the real emotion swept beneath the masks they have been wearing, “Rhys wants to meet with you tonight." Eris let out a deep sigh at Lucien's words. He just didn’t have it in him to go through one more toying session today. “He has valid suggestions," Lucien reassured his older brother. “He can shove them right up his ass," Eris pushed back his chair, turning to pour himself another drink. “Eris, hear him out. You need allies now; you need recognition," there was truth in Lucien’s words. Even if the times were changing, some old rules still applied, even if Eris didn’t plan to rule by the textbook his father had created. But there were still things he couldn’t escape. “I’ve already made a name for myself, Lucien; they know what to expect," Eris stated bitterly. Not daring to look back. Not daring to meet his brother’s eyes.

Swallowed by the never-ending piles of work, Eris had lost track of time. Only the footsteps that sounded down the hall made him halt as he lifted his head. Listening. “Of fucking hell," Eris muttered. All the fibers in his body twisted. Because he knew. Knew without seeing. Knew it deep within his gut. "Joy and cheer!", your voice echoed as you opened the door to Eris’s study. The devilish grin shone across your face. "Hello, kitten," you mussed up at him. Cassian was grinning, barely holding back a laugh. Even Azriel ran a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Eris slowly gazed up at Rhys, “I would have offered you to sit, but since you brought that malice with you..." his eyes darted back at you. Looking you up and down in that profound, unimpressed expression of his. Even if deep blue had always been your color. No one wore it better than you did in Eris’s eyes.

“Oh, because you’re such a cuddly bun," you purred, crossing your arms over your chest. "Y/n," Rhys stated firmly, glaring your way. You let out a huff, “Not my problem; he has his nickers in a twist." You pointed at Eris, who pinched the bridge of his nose, “Lord forbid... I have no time for this. You know where to find the exit." Motioning with his hand, the oldest Vanserra gestured to the door. Already turning away to leave.

"Eris, at least let me make a proposition," Rhys insisted, stepping forward before glancing back at you, “And you sit." The order was degrading, at least. Like a youngster being scolded. "I'm not your lap dog," you grumbled, eyebrows knitted. “You sure look like one," Eris muttered under his breath, making you gasp.

You were about to give him a piece of your mind when Rhys cut in, “There’s unease among the high lords." Eris blinked a couple of times. The low lights were doing no favors for his already paler skin. "Rhys, you either tell me something I don’t know or you leave," the high lord sighed with tiredness. He had heard it all before. And one more conversation about this might end up being the reason why Eris was going to drop dead himself. Rhys stood silent for a moment before uttering, “They want to make a vote; they deem you not fit to rule until they know how Beron died."

And for the first time that night, Eris’s eyes were truly forced on Rhys. A new layer of tension lined his shoulders. “What?" he muttered beneath his breath. “They are planning to hold a meeting without you." Now those words cut Eris deep. That same wound Beron cut open over and over again. You’ll never be good enough. Do you think you could ever sit among them? With me gone, you will be nothing in their eyes. “That’s nonsense; I have a right to be informed about this." Eris gripped the edge of the table. A flame of anger rekindled deep within.

“You need alliances and show them that you have it under control," Rhys pointed out, no doubt having gone through all of that himself. In some ways, “I do have it under control," Eris snarled bitterly. “Well, reports say otherwise," Rhys noted, pointing at the reports in his hand. Eris’s eyes skim over the text with urgency. “Look… I’m offering you help”. Rhys's voice died down.

That same sense of chill ran down your back. It was as if something from deep within was warning you that this was way more serious than you had thought. Eris shook his head as he read. Almost all of the high lords were in on it. There were no direct threats there, but the implications were obvious.

“Marry Y/N," and the room died down for a moment. The silence was so intense that the ringing in your ears nearly made you hold onto your head. “What?”, You both breathed in unison before your eyes fell upon one another. One heartbeat. Two. “Hell no", “Over my dead body," both of your declines fell one after the other.

"Eris, you know how the council runs and how they are about the business. You need to make public appearances. You need someone by your side," and Rhys had a point. If most courts had moved on from council power, Beron had held onto them for dear life. They fed his power. Stopped the fires of rebellion for him. And now their way was Eris’s people's way. “I sure as hell don’t need that leech," Eris said in frustration. “Hey, word choice," Azriel pointed a finger his way, making the frown on Eris’s face even deeper. “I’m not marrying that monster," you hissed.

“I would once again suggest you look at yourself," Eris grumbled back, running his hand over his face. But you were done with him. He could go to hell the way he was standing now. It’s your brother who met your angered face. “Why was I not informed about this? What right do you have to even suggest this?" You stepped closer to him, your hands reaching for his shirt. “It’s a marriage of convenience," Rhys said again, trying to kill the frustration his suggestion had caused, “You play by the rules; secure the spot for Eris among that table, and then we’ll find a way to split you apart. My word will be worth more if you’re courting my sister."

No, this couldn’t be happening. Gone were the times when women were traded like pigs. This was a joke. A nightmare. You pinched your hand once, twice. Nothing. It didn’t all fade away. “No, absolutely, no," you breathed, your hand falling on your chest. This was not the life you had dreamed of. Not how it was supposed to go.

“What’s the catch here, Rhys?" Eris breathed. Was he even considering this? Surely he wasn’t. “He left Mor by the fucking border! Do you want me in ribbons by your door?", you pulled at Rhys’s black shirt, practically hissing through your clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t dirty my hands with you that much," Eris’s voice killed your huffs as you turned back at him.

"Asshole," you spat his way. “Whiny little girl," Eris huffed back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I fucking hate you," you shrieked in frustration, pulling at the roots of your hair as the situation slowly sank in. “Oh, you hate me? Do you want to know how I feel?" Eris laughed bitterly, his eyes not leaving you, “If you were my wife, I would put poison in your morning tea." His cold words sliced through you. You let out a bitter chuckle. Taking a breath to compose yourself. A shaky hand running down the skirt of your dress to smooth the material. “Ah, well, if you were my husband, I would happily drink it." Your words lingered in the air,and you could see it even if it was just a flash. A blink. That second of shock that flashed through Eris’s eyes.

With a quick step forward, you pushed at his chest, "Never do you hear me?" You hissed one more time, “Will never happen." His hand caught your wrist with a swift motion as he pulled you closer to him. Your chest firmly pressed against his as he muttered right against your face. “You’re screaming at me as if it’s my idea," Eris huffed, dropping your hand.

You blinked, turning back to your older brother. Who swore to protect you. To always look out for you. “You’re a shit brother, Rhys," you stated. Finding it so utterly hard to even look at him now. All this time. He could have warned you. Said something. Asked. But no. “I’m trying to stop another war from happening," he stated as if this were a simple transaction, not a life-altering decision. “By sacrificing me?" You hit your chest in frustration. Your youthful years would spent slaving in another country, and for what?

“Don’t be so dramatic," Eris huffed, making you let out a frustrated whimper, "Oh, my apologies for not seeing any gain in this for me." Rhys took a deep breath. “The court wants a married man with a powerful woman by his side." Here it was his lord's voice. Not your brother. He stepped closer to you, trying to reach for your hands, but you backed away instantly. “This is more about you than anyone else," he tried to reason. So you were to be a play toy. A figurine in someone else’s game. “Just unbelievable," you said, shaking your head and stepping back. Your leg hit the cabinet, sending a couple of bottles tumbling down. Rhys called your name once more, but you didn’t. Couldn't be here any longer as you bolted towards the door.

"Y/n," Rhys called out in warning, moving towards the exit as well. “Don’t you dare follow her; you’ve done enough damage for the night," Eris’s cold voice made the Lord of the Night halt. And for the first time that night, the uncaring mask on Rhys’s face slipped: “Don’t lecture me when I’m trying to help," venomous frustration seeping through, “I’m landing you my biggest asset. She’s my only blood family." Eris couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face, “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t toy with her like that”. Rhys’s jaw twitched.

"Careful," Azriel reasoned for the second time that night. Eris had forgotten that the two of them were even there. “Stop barking from the back rows," he hissed at the two batboys. Cassian quickly placed his hand on Azriel’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. Eris shook his head, “You miscalculated, Rhys; admit it." Turning back to reach for the bottle of brandy, Eris took a swig straight out of the bottle. “You’d gain power out of this. But your precious demon of a sister will never forgive you for this." That struck a nerve deep within Rhys. And suddenly, the suggestion itself felt ingenious. So there was a catch after all, huh? “A day," Rhys said firmly, “I’m giving you a day to think this through; then my offer is off the table." Like that. He was dismissed as if he too wasn’t a high lord now. As if Eris wasn’t in an equal position to demand. Eris leaned forward,“You were never the one offering, Rhys; it was never your call to make."

[hyunniesgirl]

Another Love | Part 2

Summary: you've been hopelessly in love with Han since you were children. One night you confess your feelings to him.

Words count: 5,302

Warnings: a bit of angst

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

>> Masterlist <<

A/N: hello!! I'm really happy about the feedback I got on the first part, I got sick and stressed because of work that's why it took me a bit long to post this part, I'll try and be faster for the next ones. Spoiler: things will get more interesting on the next part.

Han couldn't sleep, couldn't eat or even function properly since the day you left, it was so strange not having you around. He wakes up, gets to work, the boys make him eat something, they practice, then they eat something again because they know he's going home to starve himself in his pit of misery, then he gets home, takes a shower and goes to sleep.

He's always anxious, too afraid of losing you, every time he looks at his phone he's scared that a message from you will come saying you don't want to be near him anymore, saying you are not coming back.

He really wishes he could like you back, why wouldn't he? You're pretty, smart and funny. But he just never thought about you in that way, he's not sure why. You were always just his best friend, the one person that encouraged him to do the crazy things he wanted, the one person that got his back when things didn't work out, the first one he told when he passed the audition to be a trainee.

When he saw you at the party he was happy to see you smiling with other people, he was usually the one making you laugh but it made him relieved to see you were okay even if it was not with him.

It hurt so much when you ran away from him, he was already feeling bad but that made everything worse. So he drank more and more until he wasn't feeling anything anymore.

He saw the guy you were hanging out with, he was with his friends and you were nowhere to be found and even though he knew you didn't want to talk to him he went after you.

He found you outside, seated on the floor probably getting some fresh air or waiting for Hannah.

When you saw him he wished he didn't go after you at all. Everything happened so fast that he almost didn't manage to hold you before you walked past him running away again.

Han just couldn't let you leave like that, he was that desperate. He wanted to make you stay no matter what and he hurt you once more.

Was he even a good friend at this point? How many times can you possibly hurt someone and still be called a friend? He felt like trash waking up in the morning and remembering everything.

Chan insisted on coming home with him, he was feeling too guilty and too tired to protest, so he let his friend crash on the sofa.

Since Chan was there, Jisung should have expected a full breakfast when he got to the kitchen. Eggs, bacon and toast were waiting for him, but he didn't feel like eating.

"I feel awful, do you think I should go there and apologize to her?" Han asks and Chan shakes his head.

"She needs time, that's all you can give her now"

Han sighs, his anxiety going through the ceiling. He's lost, not sure if it's possible for things to go back to the way it was.

He could tell how worried you got when you saw him at the party, he knows too well the face you make when you want to scold him for not taking care of himself. So he spent the next week trying to get back on his feet, he doesn't want you feeling bad, he wants you to think the least about him so you can get over him soon enough.

So much happened during this time you were not with him, they finished their album and were going to Japan in two weeks. He wanted to show you their music, their new concept, the outfits, you always loved to see the clothes they would wear. You probably already know all of this, since you're living with Seungmin but he wanted to be the one showing you so he could see you smile and feel your support.

>><<

The group had gone to Japan, that included Seungmin, so he asked Hannah to stay with you in his apartment while he was away. It's nice spending so much time with her, there is this boy in her communication class she is absolutely sure will match perfectly with you, even though you already told her you don't want to deceive anyone, the thing with Heeseung made you feel bad enough. You know she's insisting on it because she cares about you, but you don't want to start a new relationship already on the wrong foot.

"I'm sure he's great, but I won't be going out with other people until I feel like I'll be able to get over Jisung"

"And when is that?" She asks frustrated, "I know a lifelong crush won't go away in a month but don't you think you have to meet other people and open up?"

You sigh, you just don't want to hurt anyone during your process of healing.

"If I find someone I like, I'll go out with them, alright? But don't set me up with random people"

She huffs, nodding, that's better than nothing.

Since Han is away, you take the opportunity and go to your apartment. You need some books, you have been borrowing Hannah's in an attempt to avoid going there to pick up yours.

There's nothing different in the house, you don't know if you should feel glad or sad about that. Although your life is turned upside down, things are still the same. You are sure you just need a little more time, things will get better soon.

You know that, because it didn't hurt as much as you thought going back to your apartment, you expected it would be much worse. Maybe it's because he's not there? That could be it but you have hope that the overall pain is gone, that it's not going to be so bad when you see him again.

Of course, as Hannah said, a lifelong love won't go away in a month, nor in two or five months, you're not sure even a year is enough but you can't wait until then, he's still your best friend and you miss him like crazy.

You're going to come back home when you're sure you let go of these feelings. Yes, it's going to be hard being with him but it's harder to stay away from your best friend.

So when you feel like you're finally open to meet new people without comparing them to Jisung and not feel like you're tricking them, when you feel like you can like someone else without feeling guilty, that's when you'll know you are starting to get over Han.

You take some clothes out of your wardrobe and put them in the bag with your books. Hannah is coming to pick you up since Seungmin let you use his car while he's away.

"Are you moving, ma'am?" Hannah asks, seeing your huge bag.

"A girl needs to be prepared", you answer and she laughs.

"Do you want some coffee?", you hum in agreement while turning on the radio.

You feel like it's finally peaceful in your head.

>><<

It's been some time since you visited your family, your parents call you every week to check on you and Jisung but when the holidays come you two have to go back home.

That's how you ended up in the car with him, it's not a long trip since you're going just outside of Seoul but it's still awkward.

This is the first time you're seeing each other after the party. The whole trip it seems like Han wants to say something, but he doesn't, he keeps stealing glances at you, opening his mouth and then closing again like he just thought it better to stay in silence.

"For fucks sake, just say what you want to say", you tell him minutes before your arrival at your family’s home.

He flinches, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"I wanted to apologize, about the whole thing at the party", he clears his throat, fidgeting in his seat.

You stare at him for a few seconds. Even though it hurts, the whole situation is less painful then you thought it would be.

When you received the call from your parents telling you to come home with Han on the weekend you couldn't say no, you don't want them to know about all the drama and before you could make up some excuse about Han's schedule they told you he already had agreed to go.

You exchanged messages with him, setting up the time for him to pick you up at Seungmin's place and you dreaded every minute of every day thinking about the moment you would have to face Jisung again.

When you got into his car, you felt uncomfortable. You made some small talk and left at that, hoping he wouldn't keep trying to talk. It's been two months since you confessed, maybe your heart is already accepting the fact that you and your best friend are just that, friends.

Of course it still hurts, you're not sure how you're going to feel seeing him with a girlfriend, but you hope it'll only get easier from now on.

"It's okay", you say. "You were drunk, let's not think too much about it"

"But I hurt you, again", he sighs, looking at you with a frown on his face.

"Yeah, you did", you sigh, "but you're my best friend and you apologized, I'm not going to hold that against you"

He parks the car, but doesn't make any movement to get out. Jisung is staring at his hands, holding the wheel.

"You're too soft on me", he mumbles.

"I know", you smile sadly, "it's just how things are between us", you open your door urging him to get out. You already can imagine your mothers making a fuss about why you stayed so long inside the car instead of going inside.

Your parents come out while you're going through the gate, your mom has a bright smile on her face and is waiting to give you a hug. It's good to be in her embrace again, her warmth makes you feel like everything will be okay.

"You lost so much weight, aren't you taking care of her?" Han's mother scolds him while giving you a hug and feeling you out.

"It's my fault, school is just crazy right now", you tell her, hugging her back.

"Nonetheless, you should eat", she looks back at your mother, "let's double the side dishes we packed for them", and your mom nods, going back inside with her best friend.

You take a deep breath, receiving a sympathetic smile from Han before he goes into the house. It's going to be a long day.

The lunch is somewhat calm, other than the dozens of questions your families ask to you two. About college, about living by yourselves, about Han's trips, how you stay alone and how that's dangerous, they ask about everything like they don't talk to you every week.

"I forgot the ice cream", your father says, slapping the palm of his hand onto his forehead and you can already predict the scolding he's going to receive from your mother. So you jump on your feet, offering to go to the convenience store to buy some.

"Go with her", Han's father says and he nods.

You wish he didn't, it's suffocating being so close to your best friends while still uncertain of your circumstances, but if you say you don't want to, they are going to ask why and having to explain that is going to be worse than spending the day with Jisung.

You walk quietly, looking at the houses on the street. Everything is still the same, other than some renovations made to the old houses there's nothing new. The convenience store is a ten minute walk away from your house. It's good walking a bit after eating so much, the thing you miss the most about living with your parents is your mother's food.

"Which flavor?" Jisung asks while looking into the freezer.

"My mom likes strawberry and yours like chocolate, let's take both", he nods.

"Oh my god, y/n and Jisung?" You hear that damn voice you can't forget even after almost 10 years.

You put on your best smile and turn around slowly.

"Hi, Haneul", you say, poking Han with your elbow, he's still focused on choosing ice cream.

"Oh, hey", he nods at Haneul, closing the freezer.

She eyes you two up and down and smiles.

"Are you finally dating?" She squeals and you can tell she's just being mean.

"No", you answer before Jisung can even open his mouth, he glances at you with a frown.

"I'm sorry, y/n, it seems not every teenage crush works out", she pouts, smiling even more now that she got what she wanted.

You watch as she turns around, walking more deep into the store and you grab the ice creams from Han's hands, going to the cashier to pay for it.

Haneul hated you ever since Jisung dragged you to go on their date in middle school, it's not your fault but you always guessed she blamed you for things not working out with him.

You want to cry, not because you're sad but because you feel humiliated. It's so frustrating knowing that everyone has always known about your feelings for Han, it's even worse to think one day a lot of your school classmates are going to see his wedding pictures with you as the third wheel as always and think of how much of a loser you're.

"How did she know about that?" He asks when you get out of the store.

"I don't think I did a good job at hiding my feelings", you shrug.

Han stops on his tracks, you only realize that after giving a few steps and you look back to see him staring at you with a confused face.

"Was I the only one that didn't know?" He asks and you sigh, you're not really in the mood to have this conversation.

"Our parents probably don't know either", you say and he huffs.

"I'm not joking, y/n! Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What difference would it make if you knew?" You yell, finally losing it. You can feel the tears brimming in your eyes, but you won't cry, you were finally feeling a bit better and you're not going to waste another tear on this one sided love.

"Things could have been different, I could have been more careful, I could have told you to-"

He stops mid sentence knowing he shouldn't finish the sentence, but it's already too late.

"Would you have told me to move on?" You scoff, looking around to avoid the tears. "It's not that easy Jisung, this is not the same love you felt in your relationships that lasted three months", you know you're just being mean now, but you can't control it, not with all the hurt you're feeling. "I've been in love with you for years, don't you think I was afraid of that? Of you telling me that years of me pining over you were worth nothing?"

You turn around, "tell our parents that I met someone from high school and I'll be back later", you don't give him time to say anything back before you walk away.

After a few minutes, you feel the tears running down your face. At least you avoided crying in front of him.

Why does it have to be so hard? Why can't you just forget about him already? This process is taking too long and too much of your energy.

You sit in the park, wiping your tears and looking at the children playing. Everything was easier when you were at that age, you had no worries other than if it would rain the day you would go play with your friends outside or which present to give your parents on their birthday.

You look at your phone, answering your messages, your mother sent you a text telling you to not stay out too late but you don't think you'll be able to go back and stay in the same room as Han right now.

"Y/n?" You hear a strangely familiar voice, you look up and see a handsome man walking towards you. You're sure you know his face, but you just can't remember who it is.

He sees your frown and laughs.

"Jeongho? From middle school", he tells you and your eyes widen.

"Oh my god, Jeongho! How are you?" You ask and he smiles, he grew up really well. He's much taller now but he's still as handsome.

"I'm doing well, what about you?" He asks, sitting by your side, "are you visiting your family?"

"I'm great", you smile and nod, "yeah, Jisung and I came to visit"

What are the odds of you meeting Haneul and Jeongho of all people right after you confessed to Han? The universe really must be playing with you.

"I heard that you are living in Japan", you continue.

"Yeah, I came here just for the holiday", he explains, "actually, I come by pretty often to Korea", he clears his throat, looking at you. "Are you and Jisung a thing now?" He asks and you smile painfully, why must you answer this question twice in a day?

"No, still just friends", you tell and he smiles.

He nods, mumbling 'ah'.

"And… by any chance are you single?" He asks and you nod, feeling embarrassed. "Well, that's good news for me", he says, receiving a confused look from you while handing you his phone, "mind giving me your number? I'd like to keep in contact with you"

"Oh", you stare at the device for a moment, trying to process what he's saying. Is he interested in you?

"It's okay if you don't want to", he chuckles, "I'm just shooting my shot, knowing you're not with Jisung"

You laugh, releasing the air you didn't even notice you were holding.

"Yeah, sure", you type your number and give it back to him.

He stares at you with a satisfied smile before getting up.

"I have to go now, my family is waiting for me, but I'll text you", he says, flashing a smile and waving goodbye to you.

That was certainly unexpected, you would have never imagined you would meet Jeongho and he would still be interested in you. That lightens up your mood a bit, maybe this time you'll make the right choice and choose the person that likes you back.

You and Han don't share a word on your trip back, you don't want to talk to him and he seems too deep in his thoughts to say anything to you.

You finally can breathe when you get to Seungmin's, he's waiting with Hannah, beer and food, all you needed after this hell of a day.

>><<

You are in a lilac long dress, your friends are all seated in the first row. The church is full of people, some you know, some you're not so sure. You're happy, feeling your heart beat fast and butterflies on your stomach. Jisung is looking directly at you, he smiles with a proud look on his face.

However, before you can step closer to him, a loud piano sound starts playing and after a few seconds you recognize the wedding march. People stand up but they are not looking at you, neither is Han, they are all looking at the church doors where a beautiful woman is entering in a long white dress, a child walks in front of her, throwing roses in her path. The familiar round full cheeks make your stomach sink, why does that child look so much like Han? He doesn't have a younger sibling.

Then, it all sinks in, you're not the bride. Of course not, he's marrying another woman, a beautiful one at that. He's building his life and forming a family and you're just there on the sidelines. The bride steps in front of him and gives you her bouquet, smiling kindly at you.

You open your eyes abruptly, your chest is going up and down at a fast pace and your breathing is heavy, you're soaked in sweat. It was all a dream, a nightmare.

You sit on the sofa, feeling sore, all your muscles are tense. You can't believe you actually dreamt about something like that, your fear of always being there watching your best friend have his own life while still in love with him is taking over, even though you're trying to get over him.

It's two in the morning and you can't go back to sleep. It's better to take a shower and maybe go for a walk to calm your nerves.

The warm bath helps make you relax, but the memories from your dream keeps coming up on your mind again and again.

You text the only person who is probably still awake at this time and your phone buzzes seconds after your message is sent.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of being contacted by my most beautiful friend?” Chan's voice sounds on the other side of the line.

You chuckle.

“I knew you would be awake”, you tell him, fidgeting with your feet while trying to explain what's happening to him without humiliating yourself.

“I had a pretty bad nightmare and wanted to take a walk, maybe eat something? I don't know”, you whisper the last part and Chan sighs, he can tell you're not feeling well.

“Sure, I wanted to take a break anyway”, he says even though he's full of work to do.

You meet at a convenience store nearby, Chan's apartment is not far from Seungmin's since they can't live far away from each other, everyone lives close. You and Jisung did too- cursed man, coming back through your mind even though you're trying to think of anything but him.

“So”, Chan says, taking you out of your thoughts, “Jisungie told me you had a bit of an argument”, he tells you carefully, resting his elbows on the table you two are seated while he holds the beer can.

You sigh, of course he would tell Chan.

“Yeah, we just met someone from middle school during our trip and it ended up like that”, you explain after swallowing a mouthful of the hot spice ramen you have in your hands.

“I know things are not easy right now, for you or for him”, he says carefully, “but you're best friends, you have to communicate and talk things through”

“I guess”, you sigh. It's not easy to talk about Jisung, more so after the dream you had. You thought the worst part was already over, that you were finally getting over him. But it turns out it's not just willingness that makes things happen.

You wake up to your phone buzzing, you look at the time it's almost noon. You look through your messages and can't help but smile, Jeongho has been messaging you everyday since the last time you saw him. It's nice having this kind of attention, he's handsome and nice, maybe it's time for you to open your heart to someone else. The nightmare you had really terrified you, just thinking about it makes your head hurt and your chest ache.

Jeongho: good morning

Jeongho: I'll be in Korea next week, maybe we could have dinner together?

You: morning

You: yeah, that would be great!

You decide to give this a chance, it's not like it is going to kill you and Jeongho is well aware about your longing feelings for Jisung.

You're dressed in a red dress, feeling a bit uncomfortable, formal attire is not your usual outfit choice, but Jeongho set the date in a really fancy restaurant that you're not used to.

Of course you went to fancy restaurants before, the boys took you out often to celebrate their awards and new comebacks but since you always insisted on paying for your meals, they usually went to fancy but still affordable places.

Jisung always offered to pay for your meals, but you never accepted. If he did, you were afraid you would look too much like a couple and your heart might make you even more delusional.

“Good evening, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks and you look around, trying to find your date.

“Hm, hi. I'm here to meet a person, Kang Jeongho?” You eye the list on the counter to try and see if his name is there.

“Yes, mr. Kang is waiting”, he tells you, “may I take your coat?” He asks, gesturing to the long cover you have over you.

“Ah, yes”, you say, taking the piece and giving it to him.

The man gestures for you to follow and you walk behind him to the second floor. Jeongho is waiting at a table close to the window, he's looking at the view that you can see now it's marvelous.

“Mr. Kang”, the receptionist says and Jeongho turns around, giving you a big bright smile while standing up.

“Thank you”, he tells the man who nods at you and walks back to the first floor. “You look beautiful”, he tells you, pulling the chair so you can sit.

“Thank you, I didn't even know there was a second floor in this restaurant”, you say while watching him take his seat.

“Yes, they only open it on special occasions”, he says and you frown, looking around.

“You mean, they opened it so we could eat here?”

He nods, chuckling to your terrified face.

“What are you, the president’s son?” You joke, nervously, suddenly feeling absolutely out of place and underdressed.

“Not at all, you know my father and he's far away from politics”, he jokes back, “I’m friends with the son of the owner, he owed me one so I just asked for a favor”, he shrugs.

You look dumbfounded, who is this guy? Surely not the same teenager that looked absolutely heartbroken when you rejected him in middle school.

“What did you do for him to go to such lengths to pay you back?” You ask, curious.

“I introduced him to his wife”, he smiles, “he's madly in love with her, so this was nothing to how grateful he is to me”

“Oh”, you nod. That must be nice, having someone madly in love with you.

The waiter interrupts your interrogation to ask for your orders, you have no idea what to choose, but Jeongho explains to you each dish, asking if you would like something more spicy, salty or sweet and telling which one he thought you'd like better based on your answers.

“You know, you were my first crush”, Jeongho blurts out after the waiter takes the plates back to the kitchen. You feel your whole face hot, looking at him with wide eyes, “I'm sorry, I just thought you should know”, he smiles and you notice he has some deep dimples in his cheeks.

“I thought you asked me out in middle school because you lost a bet or something”, you put your hands to your cheeks, trying to ease the redness.

“I think you never gave yourself enough credit”, he points out, leaning his face on his hand while watching you. “You were always too focused on Jisung to actually see that I was not the only one looking at you with heart eyes”

You smile sheepishly, you knew your crush on your best friend was going to come up in the conversation at some point, but now that it did you don't know how to talk about it.

“Well, I found out not long ago that I was not as good as I thought at hiding my feelings”, you tell him, “apparently everyone knew that I liked my best friend—except him”

“Am I right to presume that you still have those feelings?” He asks slyly, your heart is beating fast, what if you tell him the truth and he says he doesn't want to see you anymore?

“Actually-”, you sigh, “I'm trying to get over them at the moment”

It's better he knows the truth, so he can enter this aware of your standing.

“Well, that's more than I expected”, he chuckles and you look at him confused, “I thought you were still hang up on him”

“I actually confessed”, you're feeling a bit more confident after his reaction, “and I was rejected, so I don't think there's much for me to hang on anymore”

“So, I'm sorry if I'm being too straightforward- but could I be greedy and believe I have a chance?” He asks and you're sure his eyes are wavering a bit, is he nervous? Did you actually make someone feel that way because of you?

“Yes”, you tell him, biting back a smile and blushing, he smiles at you sighing in relief.

He stands up and reaches his hand out to you.

“Then, shall we take a walk? I have a long way to make you fall for me”, he bites his bottom lip, waiting for you to take his hand.

This is it, the first step for you to get over Han Jisung.

Han sees Lia's lips move but he can't actually hear what she's saying, every word you said the last time, keeps sounding on his mind like a bloody curse.

What would he have done if he had known sooner? Would he have liked you back? Surely not, after all these years he didn't feel anything romantically related towards you, but that may be because he never thought about you in that way. Would he have told you to move on?

"Are you listening?" Jisung hears Lia say and snaps out of his thoughts.

"Yes, of course", he lies, giving her a slight smile and grabbing her hand to squeeze it.

"You're just… acting strange, since you came back from your parent’s house", she frowns.

"It's nothing, I just… had an argument with y/n and now she's mad at me", he tells a half truth.

"I'm sure she's going to forgive you", Lia says, sympathetically, "you're best friends after all"

Han nods, sighing.

He had avoided telling her the whole situation with you, it could make her insecure since you two live together.

There's something different too, he just doesn't feel the same way about her anymore, the burning flame and excitement he felt when they first started going out is slowly dying down and he just doesn't know what to do anymore.

All his previous relationships ended up because he was too busy, or because his personality didn't actually match with the other person, sometimes the girl he was dating just felt uncomfortable about his friendship with you, but he couldn't end years of friendship because he was dating so he ended the relationship.

However, Lia is different. She's great and confident, she doesn't care that he lives with you because she trusts him. She's calm, her personality is nice, she's nice. So why? Why is he feeling like this suddenly? Why is he wavering when it comes to starting this new relationship?

When he gets to practice after a weekend of resting, he is still confused, however, he's trying his best to stay focused on their new album, music is the only thing he is sure of in his life right now.

It's half past the time practice should start and Seungmin is not there yet, after one more song he asks Bangchan about it, he's starting to get worried, what if something happened to you?

“Oh, don't worry about it, he's just interviewing his roommate prospect”, Chan answers.

Han freezes. Then, that means you're going back home?

------------------

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

Taglist(I won't be tagging people without age in their profile or blank blogs in my content)

@hhwangsmoon @weareapackofstrays @shycreationdreamland @adestayskz @skizmee @ca11me3mily @realviviboss @sofix-hc7 @seungminsapuppy @starsandrqindrops @its-hannjisung @redstayrosie @mae-is-cute98

[anundyingfidelity]

WHAT IF...? — Soldier Boy/Ben (3)

Summary: Ben, now as your husband, gives up Vought for good and retires along with you far away from the spotlight and the big cities once you're pregnant with your first child. He knows better than to make the same mistakes his father did.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader

Word count: 1,7k.

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage (this drabble is centered on this basically), heavy angst, hurt/comfort, OOC!Ben and soft!Ben with kid John.

GEN MASTERLIST! — DRABBLES MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

Part 3

1988

Another sob left your lips. You hugged your legs together, back against the cold bathroom wall as you let all the sorrow and pain wash you away, tears rolling down your cheeks.

It felt heavy on your shoulders, on your back, on your neck… Everywhere, as if someone put a ton of weight on you so you would just be forced to sit down and never get on your feet again. You did not have any strength left, every muscle of your face hurted and your body burned like hell.

Breathing in and out wasn’t helping either. All you wanted was to vanish, let the ground open and then swallow you completely. Or disappearing. Just quitting existence. It would be so much better if no one could remember you, right? You thought about it so many times and you wondered if everything and everyone would be fine with it.

At this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted to run away, from everything and everyone.

But then, the door creaked open and you knew who it was. With eyes shut, embarrassedly crying out your misery to the man kneeling before you, you restrained yourself from looking at him.

You felt his hand, warm and broad, rubbing your shoulder slowly. Ben tested the waters, caressing your tense arms, until he took one of your hands, and you seemed to calm down just a little when he, in a serene silence, wiped the tears away from your face with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said in a broken voice that made his heart shrunk. “I’m sorry for not giving you another child, I’m so sorry…”

Ben pulled you in for a hug, both of you on the cold ground. Your head on his shoulder as he embraced you with his arms against the warmth of his figure. After all the years you spent together with your firstborn and living a normal life, he still had a somewhat hard time processing and expressing his feelings, and even more so, comforting you. But right now he felt all your pain. Every single tear, all your suffering, he was swallowing it too. If he’d be feeling that way, you would be there on his spot, letting him cry out on his shoulder.

When you found out you were pregnant again, you became the happiest he ever saw you. Both of you were so excited since you finally were managing to raise John to be a good kid. Ben was learning new things everyday with the little family you were building, and he loved being a father, so starting again was the best news ever.

But suddenly, complications started and it was painful, both physically and psychologically. Never would you have imagined this was going to happen. You were just about to know if it was a boy or a girl, and then, that moment couldn’t be anymore.

Since then, you felt a part of you dying. Your husband became utterly worried seeing you day after day like this, crying alone in the bathroom at night. He could do nothing but hold you tight. You continued shedding your tears against him, trembling and sobbing, remembering the night it all happened, how fast you had to run to the hospital, and how the news were delivered, how much it fucking hurted…

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed into his neck again, holding onto him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly and moved away a little. Facing you, he cupped your wet cheeks and you slowly opened your swollen eyes. “Look at me, please… It wasn’t your fault, and I still love you.”

His voice was stern and low, but not enough to scare you. He was just trying to get your attention and make you forget all the negative thoughts your mind had put you in.

“Please stop torturing yourself like this.”

He said it almost like a plea, with his green eyes focused on your own that you tried so hard to keep open. Even though the tears couldn’t stop falling, you gave him a small nod.

You tried not blaming yourself, you tried to keep going every day like nothing had happened, burying the pain inside simply because it was too much to handle. You were just so happy to have another child before, and suddenly everything you built up crumbled down in what felt like a couple of seconds…

“Mommy?”

A sleepy little John stood by the doorframe, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and grabbing his teddy bear with the other.

“John, please go to your room,” Ben said almost in a whisper, and you looked away from your son so he couldn’t see you in such a state.

“Is she okay?” John asked again, innocent as a child could be.

Ben gave you a worried look before answering. It was as if you two communicated with your eyes only in tough situations like this. After a moment, you finally nodded and wiped the tears again.

“Go,” you whispered. Ben hesitated, looking between you and his son. “I’ll be fine, go.”

Ben gave you a rather worried last gaze but he did as you told. He walked out the bathroom, grabbing John’s little hand, and he took him back to his bedroom, which wasn’t that far. There, he tried to wrap John with the covers, but his son remained sitting down with big, blue eyes. Ben knew that look on his face.

“Why is mommy crying?” John asked while rubbing his eyes and yawning, hugging the teddy on his arm.

With a silent sigh, Ben sat down on the bed, trying to form an answer. It was the first time John had seen you like this and he had the right to know but he was just a kid. What kind of parent could have the heart to tell his four-year-old son his sibling died before birth?

“Crying is… normal,” Ben mumbled, tacking a messy lock of his blonde hair and putting it behind his ear. “Sometimes you cry when you’re sad, sometimes when you’re angry, sometimes it’s because of happiness… It helps you to release your emotions in a healthy way.”

“Is she sad?” John asked.

Ben nodded, finding his innocence pure and even a little cute. The kid was, by far, better at handling his emotions than his own parents, but that mere fact made Ben even prouder.

“Yeah, she is. But it’s part of life, y’know that, kiddo,” he continued, forming a half smile on his lips, mixed with sadness, grief and the feeling of the bond he was sharing with the little one right now.

John nodded this time, confirming he had understood his explanation. To be fair, John rarely cried now he was growing up, and would speak calmly and try to find answers before exploding. Ben always thought you had done a great job at teaching him how to react smartly. John was doing exactly that right at that moment.

“Daddy, do you cry too?”

John’s question left him speechless for a second as it interrupted his thoughts. The kid’s blue eyes looked directly to his soul, waiting for any kind of response.

“Sometimes…”

“You’re showing your feelings,” John said with a confident nod. “That is okay.”

Ben smiled widely this time, messing with his hair.

“Go to sleep, champ. Is getting late.”

He was about to wrap him up with the soft covers when you slowly showed up by the door. Your husband seemed taken aback at your appearance, but for what he could see you already had washed your face and probably had a glass of water. There were no more tears on your eyes, just the redness of your face after crying for so long and there was a half, tired smile on your lips nonetheless.

“Can I sleep with mommy and daddy?” John said once he noticed you were there. You walked in to take him into your arms, not before kissing his cheek lovingly.

“Of course you can. Right, dad?” you teased back.

Ben gave you a genuinely broad smile.

“Anytime.”

“I'm sorry, Ben-”

“No, stop apologizing. I fucking beg you. Please, stop that.”

His choice of words made you half chuckle.

“It's no one’s fault. This stuff happens,” he continued.

“I know I just- I really wanted another kid,” you mumbled looking at John who was playing with a kite and running around the backyard. You would have to tell John eventually, and it hurted you just the thought of it.

Ben followed your gaze, leaving his empty glass of ice tea on the wooden table. John was your treasure and you had raised him well. He was smiling, laughing, running around like a free soul. That was what Ben ever wanted, and he had given it to his son. The love of a mother, of a father, a cozy home, normal school with kids who happened to be fans of Soldier Boy… Even with all the fuzz after years of his retirement, he managed to have John safe. All his life purposes couldn’t compare to his little brat.

“Don’t you think he’s enough?” Ben broke the silence, turning his gaze toward you sitting by his side on the bench.

“Of course I do!” you replied with wide eyes, sounding a little offended by the question. Ben curved a brow, waiting for you to go on. “Maybe I wanted to have a bunch of babies running around… I told you that, remember? I still would like to-”

You choked with your own words, and Ben took your hand, rubbing your knuckles softly, looking straight into your eyes.

“Y’know, it’s okay. It’s okay if we do. And it’s okay if we don’t.”

You nodded slowly and he cupped your cheek with his palm, bringing you in for a soft kiss on your lips. “Thank you, Ben.”

“Daddy! Daddy, help!” John’s loud voice and him running toward you forced you to separate. Ben even got on his feet when the kid pointed to a tree. The kite was trapped there on a very high branch. Your husband sighed, hands on his hips as John begged for him to rescue his kite before the sunset started.

Looking between them, you let out a giggle and tapped Ben’s arm. “Go be his hero, honey.”

Soldier Boy taglist:

@delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester 

@daisy-the-quake @jackles010378 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch @drasticemotions

 @stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves @believeinthefireflies95 @weaponxgames @lyarr24

@skyesthebomb @thedazzlingburglar @slothbae99 @peachhiz @lorenaloveslewis

@erikaafernns @demodemo909

[phangneh]

Voice in the Abyss

✨Manhwa : Into The Light Once Again

✨Elmir royal family x Fem!Reader

✨Warning : princess!reader, lost memory, yandere elements (both platonic and romantic), protect, ... (will add more)

📌Note: this is just a fanfic, there are many details unrelated to the original story line. English is not my native language, if I make grammatical mistakes or use incorrect words, please forgive me.

🎭Summary : You have a voice that is said to change the world, when you sing, your sweet voice makes people happy and all things flourish. One day, your kingdom was destroyed, you had to live with the pain of losing your family and being severely mistreated. But it seems that you will die in misery, there will be people who will come and take you out of the abyss.

"O God, when this song ends, come and take me away"

"Let me live forever, peacefully in your magical arms"

My dear, your voice can change the world...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looks like there's a noise on the ground, you think. But you're not really sure, is it really noise? Or are your ears just imagining for themselves?

It's been a long time, even a little warmth of sunlight you haven't even seen, two years of being confined to a dark underground prison, all your senses and body have been worn out. Dark, cold, snake centipede insects you are also used to.

When will you be freed?

Why aren't you dead yet?

Eventually, you find yourself lying on the moldy, slurping ground. A finger can't move now, is God taking you?

The noise doesn't go away, but at this moment you don't care about it anymore. When you close your eyes, it feels like you're leaning on your mother's lap, and she sings you lullabies. There is the voice of your mother, of your father, of your brothers and sisters, it seems that you are with them.

And then you don't feel anything anymore.

...

You wake up, light creeping into the corner of your eye. Brilliant, and uncomfortable. But it's also warm and comfortable. Your head is blank, strangely enough, you don't have any memories in your head. You can't think of anything, you're so strange around, you wonder where this is, there's a lot of mixed emotions, anxiety, fear, restlessness in you,... Suddenly the door of the room opens, a woman enters and is alarmed to realize you have woken up, she is so shocked that she almost dropped the tray in her hand.

"She's awake!"

She speaks something you don't understand. You're vague, weak, but still aware enough that two people came in later, they both looked in a hurry, and seemed surprised to see you open your eyes. Who's that? Do you know them?

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" A soft voice that you can hear, she speaks a language that you understand, you want to answer, but your throat is too weak to say something.

The owner of the voice was a woman with a gentle and beautiful face, her eyes were like beautiful purple jewels.

She looked very worried... Why?

"Hurry up and call the priest here!" Another voice, but that of the younger girl, they were the same, they both had cloud-white hair, but she had blue eyes... It was like that lake, clear and shining. She was as beautiful as an angel.

"It's going to be fine, you're safe."

You are confused, why are you here, who they are, why are you like this, so many questions in your mind.

What happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Chapter 1]

[Chapter 2]

[Chapter 3]

[Chapter 4]

I hope someone will like it (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[myouicieloz]

Heartbeat

Shin Ryujin x reader

Synopsis: you’ve promised to take your best friend to an awaited party, located in a nearby city. Ryujin catches your eye, and you fall right into her web of plans, with the promise of having a good time once and for all.

Warnings: mentions of gangs, guns and drugs. smut. blood. violence. nsfw.

Word count: 13.8k

Notes: i thought abt this after watching ryujin’s solo mv! it was so good <3. this was a fairly new topic for me to write about, so I apologize if it’s poorly written or unrealistic. nevertheless, I had lots of fun writing it ˆˆ. english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You don’t mind helping out your parents by working at the family’s Diner: there usually weren’t many customers, and days went by slowly without you being bothered.

“Hey, Y/n. Can I grab another soda?” Your best friend asks, brushing her hands in front of your face to get your attention. Facing you from the other side of the diner’s endless counter, Chaeryeong looks like a hyper child, standing up from her seat to take a look at the soda machine, placed behind your frame.

You roll your eyes at her, simply grabbing the large cup she hands you and filling it up with Coke Zero, this time. “Here.”

“Awn, man, come on!” She protests, grunting. Lets her head fall back. “Coke Zero tastes like shit, Y/n! Give me something tasty, damn.” Chaeryeong turns to the few other customers, gesticulating, “What does a girl have to do to get the good stuff around here? Stop with the misery!”

She has her finger pointed at you, to which you giggle. You’ve known Chaery since your diaper days, with her living in the house in front of yours, and the two of you have been best friends ever since. Her careless, playful nature provides a nice balance to your calm, responsible one. You love her to pieces, which means you are always taking care of the dark-haired girl, in many ways.

“You’ve reached your daily quota of sugar.” You don’t even look at her as you answer, busy giving an elder woman her exchange in cash. “And don’t make those faces. I might as well just give you water, from now on.” Smiling at the customer, you ignore your friend. “Thank you, ma’am! Have a pleasant day.” Chaeryeong gulps, knowing fully well you mean your words.

She keeps her thoughts to herself, mumbling something incoherent while the loud slurps of the iced drink can be heard. Still not paying her much attention, you lean your elbows on the counter marble, sighing tiredly. Even though it was only an hour past noon, you could feel the heaviness in your eyes, the tiredness getting to you. Not having any orders, you allow yourself a few moments of rest, closing your eyes and resting your head on your hands. Just some seconds of peace, you decide.

The bell chime’s noise announces the end of your calm state of mind. In a blink, your sister is placing a medium-sized box on the counter, her usual smile directed at you. You know better than to trust her angelic looks, though — behind her rose gold hair and delicate features, Rosé is nothing but a devious manipulator.

However, she’s still your older sister, and you love her to pieces. It’s the only reason you don’t ignore her, crossing your arms and waiting for her to speak up, instead. She pushes the box towards you, smiling sneakily.

“Good morning, baby sister.” Rosé greets you. As usual, she never goes straight to the point.

You narrow your eyes at her. “It’s past noon, Rosé.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She brushes you off, winking at Chaeryeong to say hello. The girl nearly drowns in her coke, coughing violently.

Chaeryeong has had a massive crush on your sister ever since she was fourteen. Fortunately for you, Rosé has never seen her as anything apart from a little sister too, like yourself. Although the not so subtle rejection has never stopped Chaery from freaking out whenever Rosé addressed or acknowledged her.

“Good morning to you too, Rosie unnie.” She says, after finally gathering her breath. You huff, muttering about how biased she was and being promptly ignored by both girls. The package catches Chaery’s attention, ever so curious, and she pokes it with her bony fingers. “And what’s that about?”

Rosé pulls the package towards you, shrinking her shoulders down a little. For some, she might seem hesitant, but you know her too well to be aware that her movements are anything short of calculated.

“Could you deliver this for me?” She asks —tone dripping with sweetness. It always is, whenever she wants something from you. This is no different. “They asked for the pieces pretty urgently, and I’ll be off to deliver another package in a nearby city in a few minutes.”

Apart from the Diner, your father also owned a mechanical workshop, and would often sell and deliver car pieces to his clients. Rosé, being her outgoing self, dealt with them and the business part of it while you preferred to step aside, helping with the Diner instead. It was only when she had too much work to do that you had to deal with her customers, instead —and those were never pleasant experiences.

Perhaps you were just not cut for the job, or your calm aura was easy to be taken advantage of, but it was a matter of fact: you sucked at negotiating deals and making small talk. It made you uncomfortable and anxious, having to put up a superior act and bargain with assholes until you got enough profit to go home satisfied, so you avoided it vigorously.

Unfortunately, Rosé never hesitated to ask for a hand.

You eye the box suspiciously, trying to figure out the content inside without having to touch it. Even though it seems heavy, you can never truly trust appearances. After all, car pieces are not the only thing they sell at your father’s shop.

“I mean… I could.” You smirk back at Rosé, your identical smiles mirroring one another. “But I don’t want to.”

Before you even register, Rosé smacks you on the head. You’ve never been able to buck from her quick hands anyway.

“Hey!” You massage your scalp, moving your upper body forward to give Chaeryeong a push, too, since the action has her laughing loudly. “Bitch.”

Rosé giggles, too, standing on her tiptoes to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Pretty please, Y/nnie.” She sighs, joining her hands in a prayer. “I’ll owe you one. I’ll even give you that dress of mine you love, promise.”

Chaeryeong gives you a thumbs up, biased as she’s always been.

“Come on, Y/n, let’s just do it. It’ll be fun! It’s too monotonous to be at the Diner all day, anyway.”

“See?” Rosé gestures to your best friend, pleased to be supported. “Chaery, you’re so sweet.” Your sister pinches her nose, and Chaeryeong’s face turns as red as a strawberry in a matter of seconds. She turns to you once again, then, still faking that hesitation. “Please? It’d be an outstanding deal for us. Lots of profit and all.”

You roll your eyes, still not convinced. Even though Chaery’s eyes are nearly popping off her face with how intensely she’s glaring, you refuse to give in. Rosé was stubborn, but you share the same blood, after all.

“Aren’t any of your friends available? I can’t just close the Diner and go.” Lies. You simply refuse to bulge, to relent to Rosé’s wishes as you always did.

She doesn’t even blink, though, unbothered by your lack of cooperation.

“Lisa, Jisoo, and Jennie are all busy with other work deals too, as well as the boys.” She shrugs, going around the counter to grab a beer for herself. “Trust me, Y/n: if I had anyone to go deliver this, I would… but you know how busy these past weeks have been, and we’re all so overworked. Help me out, please?” She touches the cross hanging on her chest, identical to the one you never took off.

A symbol of your bond.

You sigh, jumping off the balcony and giving in to Rosé’s orders for the nth time. “Fine.” You mumble, grumpy. “Chaeryeong can take care of the place while I go.”

“What the fuck, Y/n!” The girl jumps from her seat, suddenly interested in the conversation as if she hadn’t spent the last five minutes scrolling on her phone, all bored. Suddenly, she’s all ears, eagerly advocating for herself, “I don’t want to do the boring stuff! Let me go with you.”

Before you’re able to tell your friend to get fucked, Rosé stops you with her hands, signaling for someone to come in.

“It’s good for you to not go alone, baby sis. Chaery can make you company.” She nods, grabbing the young girl who came in by the shoulders and positioning her in front of you and Chaeryeong. “This is Rami. She’s Mingyu’s little sister, remember? She said she could handle the diner for a few hours while the two of you are at it. Such a sweetheart, is she not?”

The girl — Rami, nods energetically, looking at your sister with adoration in her glittery eyes. It was no surprise Rosé had brought one of her little fangirls to help, actually. Living in a small city for all your life, everyone knew Rosé. She’s been a notable presence since her teenage years, whether it was attending fancy balls or setting fire to the shops downtown. The blonde girl has been remarkable for as long as you can remember. She’s always been either feared, hated, or loved, but remarkable nonetheless.

Which only proved your theory that you were not going to deliver any car pieces, after all.

You and Chaery exchanged a knowing look, neither caring enough to ask anything about this girl or explain the job she’d have to take at the Diner for free.

“Very well, then.” You sigh, watching Rosé’s excited clapping and giggling. “I’ll grab my car keys.”

Chaeryeong follows you closely, also jumping of joy. You’re well aware she hates being at the Diner, always complaining of boredom, but it isn’t like she has any other friends to go out with. Behind her bubbly, chatty, and energetic personality, she’s is actually very frail and shy, which makes her an easy target for the mean fuckers your age. She struggles, and would much rather just have a single, loyal friend. And you’ve always made sure to protect her fiercely.

“Adventure!! Finally.” The dark-haired girl raises her hands, thanking God you’d go out.

“Don’t get too excited.” You warn her, turning to Rosé. Pointing a finger at the rosy-haired woman, you add. “I hate you.”

She pulls you in for a suffocating hug, used to your harsh behavior. “And I love you so, little sis. Thank you!”

Both Rami and her wave as you and Chaeryeong leave the diner, the package weighing heavily in your hands. You don’t have a big 6th sense, but something does not feel right. Although you ignore it anyway, turning the car on and driving to the address your sister texted you.

-

“Do we really have to do this?” She whines, closing the passenger’s door rather roughly — to which you grunt, paying her a harsh stare for not being careful with your precious car.

She realized the whole thing would be anything but fun sometime mid the 40-minute journey to the abandoned warehouse you were currently walking into. Besides, once you reminded her that Rosé’s request would put off her wishes of going out and partying for a few hours, that little pout of hers hasn’t left her lips. Now, Chaeryeong is all regretful to have supported the older girl in her wishes.

“Not really.” You pay your friend no mind, walking towards the place that was falling into pieces. Seeing you weren’t backing her up, her pout deepened.

“It’s my birthday.” She argues, kicking rocks along the way.

“I already bought you a cake. And milkshake, and fries.” You roll your eyes, remembering how you’d all chanted your best friend happy birthday at your parents’ Diner, during breakfast. “And a shit ton of booze, throughout all these years of knowing you. You haven’t paid me back once.”

Chaeryeong sighs, hurrying to your side, defeated. You keep walking without waiting for her, making it harder for her to catch up — truly opposites, the two of you.

“Fine. But let’s do this quickly. You promised we’d still go to that party.” She decides, playfully bumping into you. Any other time, her actions would’ve helped you to be at ease, but you’re unable to relax this time. You know this is some serious shit.

“Yeah, let’s do this quick.” You repeat her words, entering the abandoned place at a slow, nearly languid pace.

Let you both be out of here in no time. You wish, once again sensing the bad omens.

The warehouse, although old, mistreated and nearly falling into pieces, is not unsettling to you. It’s merely the place Rosé sometimes treats business, and you’ve accompanied her once or twice, before. The wooden beams are rotten, and the flooring has long disappeared, fading into dust that clings to your combat boots. You’d have to clean them later, and that somehow annoys you more than the situation itself. The place is empty, with walls that were once covered by big, expensive windows, yet all that remains are tainted, broken glasses hanging wherever you could look. Machines are still forgotten in random locations inside the building, a ghost of times when the government tried to rebuild the massive area. None of that was successful, obviously. Now, this ghost of a place belongs to your father, your sister, and the other people who were also part of the darker side of this shitty town.

Only a single table hangs in the open area of the first floor, clearly meant for dealerships and businesses. Upon arriving, you notice 5 — no, nearly 10 people waiting not so patiently. Wearing dark, shabby clothes, none of them seem welcoming, to say the least. Rosé had told you’d be doing business with Wendy, a familiar customer from another small town nearby, in hopes to ease down on your nerves. It worked, in a way: having met with Wendy a few times prior, you weren’t all nervous about the upcoming meeting. She was intimidating and oh, so pretty, but you got along well with the auburn-haired woman and her business partners, from previous experiences such as charity dinners and dealerships alongside your sister’s presence.

The woman that stands in front of you, however, looks nothing like Wendy. You know her, naturally; it was impossible not to. Jinsoul’s troublemaker fame was much different than your sister’s — while Rosé’s actions, even though batshit crazy at times, are dreadfully calculated, Jinsoul’s insanity comes with the sole purpose of enticing chaos. Her unstable nature is much of a pain, you’ve personally experienced so from watching herself prove her influence on a crowd by torturing some poor girl who accidentally spilled champagne in her dress at a ceremony, or setting fire to a man’s car at one of the car rifts you often attend. Out of all the girls from her gang, Jinsoul is the least pleasant one to set off deals with.

Naturally, Rosé and Jinsoul hate each other with a passion, being two different flames of the same fire.

With all of that knowledge, you fix your posture, observing Chaeryeong do the same with your peripheral vision. Even though you absolutely despise it, you’ve been taught well how to keep a powerful, imposing façade. Standing tall, you tower over Jinsoul and her subordinates.

“I see Rosé sent her little minion, instead of herself. Must be really busy, of course.” Jinsoul doesn’t greet you, as expected. Her tone is dripping with venom as she examines you and your best friend with harsh eyes.

Now that you’re in front of her, you’re no longer hesitant or scared. Instead, you’re bothered, irritated that you have to deal with your sister’s cheap copy instead of Wendy or Joohyun. Taking a step towards the young woman, you curse Rosé under your breath, fully aware the eventful encounter is not a misunderstanding.

“Nice hair. I love the new color.” You say, leaning your head with a knowing look. Jinsoul’s hair falls a little past her shoulders, in a strawberry-blonde tone that is exactly like Rosé’s past one, from a few months prior. “I’ll tell Rosé her oldest, most faithful fan sends her regards.”

Your words seem to stir something inside the leader in front of you. She scoffs, gritting her teeth. “This is too tedious. Give me the shipment we agreed on, I’ve got better things to do anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gesture for Chaeryeong to drop the box on the ground. She does as told, the metallic sounds of the guns moving inside. It echoes in the empty place, as the box falls onto the ground.

Jinsoul remains stoic, hands resting neatly inside her pockets, while her guards reach out for the box. Before they can touch it, though, you step on it, preventing anyone from moving.

“Give us the money first, Jinsoul. No funny business.” You stare right into her eyes, remembering the times you’ve caught her fooling around in her deals, leaving other people empty-handed. “Then you can check as much as you want.”

She laughs, knowing you’re no fool. “I see you’ve gotten wiser, Y/n. Well done.”

In a second, she’s handing you another small, compacted package. You take the money with your delicate hands, not in the least made to deal with such dirty stuff. You count it, already feeling the blood in your veins boil. Chaeryeong breaths are heavy beside you as you say. “This is not what we agreed on, Jinsoul. Stop being a whore for once and give me the other half of the fucking money.”

You and Chaery don’t need words to understand each other. She grabs the box back from the ground as soon as she sees you go rigid, holding on to it with the same look of disdain you bear.

“Oh, my dear.” Jinsoul stands close enough to grab a strand of your long fringe, knuckles brushing your jawline with feigned affection. “Your sister should know I am only faithful to the people I treat business with… and I didn’t discuss anything with you, precious.”

Turning your face, you hold Chaeryeong with one arm to prevent her from jumping on Jinsoul and beating her up.

“You bitch!” Your friend screams at her face, her voice muffled by Jinsoul’s hectic laughter as she walks away, back turned to you and Chaery in a clear show of disrespect.

Before you can go to Jinsoul yourself, her guards strike, going straight to the two of you. You manage to buckle and give them a few punches — causing a fair amount of trouble for someone who didn’t practice often at all, honestly. However, you were outnumbered, and soon enough you find yourself on the ground, punched and disheveled.

Coughing violently, you turn to see one of them kicking Chaeryeong in the guts, a few meters from you. The sight of your friend, cheerful and pure Chaery, being hurt enrages you to the core. You spit at their feet to gather all the attention to yourself.

“Don’t touch her, fucker!” You scream, breathless. They pay you no mind, having the time of their lives.

You feel something on your jacket, then. When you look ahead, Jinsoul has poured a thick, horizontal line of a viscous liquid through all of the massive warehouse. Other guards help, with gallons, but you know most of it is her doing — she loves to get her hands dirty in the business. There’s fire in her eyes, and by the time she lifts the lighter dramatically, you’re already well aware.

Gasoline.

“Goodbye, dearests! It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” She chants, before throwing the lighter and walking away, without any rush.

You have to use both hands to stand on your fours, then on your knees. Your jacket is long thrown elsewhere as you grab Chaeryeong by back of her neck, much like a kitten. “Let’s go, and quick. Are you badly hurt?” You murmur, looking for any bad bruises on her porcelain skin. The girl shakes her head, running her hand through her bloody nose. She whimpers, and you know she’s trying her best to be strong in front of you. You give her a hug, as well as a kiss on her dirty cheek, in hopes of bringing her a little comfort. “Good. Now come.”

You hated — no, you despised Rosé for always deceiving you. Only this time, she’d pay.

Leaning on each other, the two of you go back to where you’d parked your car, in a hidden area a few minutes away from the warehouse, just as you’ve been taught to do. You take a deep breath, appreciating the humidity and the nature that ruled the place, a forgotten piece of the city. It had rained while you were inside, and you were glad for that. You loved the smell of rain, especially in nature.

On your way to the car, you spot a water tap nearby. You take Chaeryeong’s arms from your shoulders, then, opening the tap and turning to her. “Clean yourself up.”

“You’re so bossy.” She mumbles, but is quick to do as told, grabbing a hold of the water and splashing it on her face, cleaning up the dust that gathered. Chaeryeong nearly drenches her whole head, too — her pitch-black hair all shiny within minutes as the color slowly returns to her face.

While she takes the dirt off her arms and legs, you look around to check on the fire. It is still lively, a bright beacon as the night falls by, but you know it won’t spread. The place was all rotten by rust, with barely any ceiling left, so the rain would most likely put it off.

Still, Jinsoul’s message was clear, and it stung on your pride.

At least she’s always been like that, never presenting herself differently. Much different from your sister, who tells lies for breakfast.

Your mind is still clouded by troubled thoughts when Chaeryeong lets out a tired laugh, smiling once you kneel to clean up yourself. “They beat up our asses hard out there, you know.”

As much as her statement annoys the shit out of you, you’re grateful to have her cracking jokes again. Your best friend’s delicate features suit the red color on her mouth, a sign she’s well and ready for the next one.

You feel the dust gathering under your fingers and all over your skin. It’s all over you, so intensely your honey hair can be misguided as black, with how much of it is covered by dirt.

“I’ve barely noticed.”

Chaeryeong chokes in her saliva to keep herself from laughing, knowing your patience’s running thin. Even if you have the softest spot for her, she decides not to push it.

“Yes, obviously.” She nods. You think she’s finally going to be quiet, but it’s your best friend you’re talking about. Naturally, she continues. “Let’s go to the party, please?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you finish washing up, feeling refreshed and no longer too bothered. “Yes.”

You both arrive where the car is parked before she adds. “And we need fighting lessons once we get back home.”

“Chaeryeong.”

“It’s true, sorry! It is.” She raises her hands as if to keep herself from being attacked by your rage.

You limit yourself to giving her a harsh stare, and she shivers under it. You can be quite intimidating when you wish to be, especially since you’re not exactly a chatterbox.

Turning the car on, you indulge your friend’s wishes as you drive towards the party she’s been nagging you about for the whole week.

-

The night’s already taken over the sky once you park on the crowded street, after hours of speeding on the free road. As you hop out of the car, your thoughts go to your sister: you know the meeting with Jinsoul had been arranged all along, with her words about Wendy being merely for you to agree on doing as told. How could she fool you like that? As if you were nothing more than another dischargeable person, like many of her toys.

It’s not the first time Rosé has sent you and Chaeryeong to some skimpy situation, but knowing she was well aware of it being a clear trap all along leaves you absolutely outraged.

Even though she knew of the risks, she still sent you. You would’ve never gone, had you known it was a situation like that, and that’s the reason she didn’t warn you beforehand.

You hated Rosé’s guts.

Chaery rushes to your side once again, side-eyeing you with as little discreetness as possible — unlike yourself, she’s never been good at hiding her expressions. You don’t even attempt to smile, still mad about your earlier encounter and all that went wrong.

Not even your bubbly, cheerful best friend can lift your spirits, at the moment.

“Don’t tell me you’re still pissed, Y/n.” She shakes her arms, sighing. Her tone is serious, and you know she means it. “Come on! Live your life, and stop being so strict all the time. You deserve to have fun.” Chaery grabs you by the shoulders, lifting your chin so you’ll stare at her. “So have fun! I know it fucking sucks, but it’s done! Let’s just enjoy the night and deal with the whole problem tomorrow morning.”

You roll your eyes, knowing she’d never comprehend your feelings. As much as you love how carefree she is, you also know your personalities are too different.

You allow her to interlock your hand with hers, though, as the two of you pass the sea of cars in the direction of the crowded mansion.

“You could use a little fire within yourself too, you know.” You murmur, examining the place with harsh eyes.

The front garden alone is already impressive. Its deep green lawn is impeccable — clearly trimmed and well cared for, aligning with the lavish fountain that stands in the center and all the animals sculpted in the bushes. A cupid stands in the middle of the marble fountain, water flowing smoothly from its carved bow. You recognize the modern styling of the mansion, with plenty of massive windows that cover both floors of the house. With its wooden walls, the place has a rustic yet cozy surface. There is no doubt whoever owns such property has a great sense of style.

Even that front area is crowded, too. People nearly having public sex, others throwing up vigorously while being helped by friends, a few others just passed out on the lawn… although you’re surprised to see many groups simply drinking and chilling, leaning on their cars, too — most likely seeking an escape from the vivid music and the heat wave that must be inside. You already feel the energetic music echoing through the whole atmosphere, the rhythm reverberating through the walls and on the ground. You bite your cheek to suppress a smile, not wanting your friend to notice yet. To you, there was something appealing about attending such crowded spaces. Amidst the sea of people, you were no one: known by no one, cared for by no one. It was strangely comforting, as if a weight was going off your shoulders, and you liked it.

Interrupting your thoughts, Chaeryeong shrugs, “I mean, it’s Rosé we’re talking about. Did you seriously not expect the deal to be suspicious, to say the very least?” She sighs hard, adding. “That lying, dreadful hot bitch. I’d go to as many sneaky warehouses as she commands me to, sorry, Y/n.”

Her tone is truthful enough to have you shaking your shoulders in laughter, squeezing her hand to make her stop walking through people so fast. As a matter of fact, Chaery’s fat crush on your sister isn’t by any means new to you — going on for many years already, but it always surprises you to hear her say stuff like that.

You find it hilarious, actually, that Chaeryeong is, to this day, one of your sister’s fangirls.

“I seriously can’t believe you sometimes.” You say, although youthful spirits have been lifted. Your best friend smiles brightly at you, her button nose scrunching adorably.

“You just love me so much.”

You leave her at that, and stand by the door, making your way to the main, open area — the living room. Chaeryeong is smart and attentive, which also helps to access the whole place rather quickly. Soon enough, both of you have some kind of fancy drink in hands, and you stare at the dark-haired girl rather hesitantly.

Her bright humor and the room’s energy, bustling with excitement are enough to have you feeling much better, even a little happy yourself. Still sensing your hesitation, she brings the cup to your mouth with her small hands, both of you downing your drinks within seconds.

“Okay,” She says, looking around for anything interesting. “Now the real fun begins.”

You laugh, knowing she’s going to find some source of entertainment for the night — whether it is a pretty girl to lose herself in or a newly discovered gossip to watch and comment over like a TV series.

Chaeryeong disappears and comes back with another fancy-looking drink, stumbling and nearly falling in the process, and you quickly grab the one she hands to you, taking a small sip this time. She’s already had a handful of hers and stares at your choice of savoring the liquid with playful eyes.

“What? I would rather not pass out. That’s your role.”

“You never forget, do you? It was once, Y/n. Once. And forever ago, too! I’ve never done that again.” She huffs, bringing her free hand to her chest in a fake display of resentment.

You giggle as you hug her sideways, shutting off the older girl’s whines. She quickly steps aside, though — not wanting people to think she’s not seeking some fun, and you take the opportunity to look around, observing the inside of the mansion properly.

It’s a beautiful house — a mansion, indeed — and the first floor is nothing but lavish. The bar, where you and Chaeryeong stand, is nearly the size of the one at the Diner, filled with expensive drinks and crystal cups as the bartender — not at all like the junk places the two of you usually attend— mixes drinks with experience.

It also pleases you to see how such a person is not afraid of spending money to host a good party, even if the people enjoying it are complete strangers. The lively atmosphere of young people having fun, mixed with the grand decor of the place balanced each other well, giving a lived-in aspect to said gorgeous place.

The open area has plenty of windows, allowing you to watch the gardens and the pool, outside — even though it’s massive, there’s barely any space left in between the waters, making you gulp with disgust. It was hard for you to understand how that many people would muster the courage to get in, with so many germs and fluids certainly dirtying the once crystal-clear waters.

Looking back inside, you’re able to observe the planned furniture, which is clearly well thought out, with the wooden ceiling and the thick, marble columns. There are rugs lacking, you notice, but it is surely so they don’t stain or anything.

You wonder what the place is like during a quiet, common day. One where the only noises come from the birds, chipping and singing while flying through the trees, and the running water that drips on the pool fountain.

Besides that, it is absolutely crowded. Nearly every single space is occupied by either a couple kissing like there’s no tomorrow or people screaming and dancing, yet everyone seems to be having a nice time. The atmosphere makes you smile, surprisingly cozy on this chaotic yet lively night. That’s how you feel, specially after the prior encounters: alive.

You have to make that feeling worth it.

-

Time goes by fast once you’re trying to have fun.

You quickly learn so, as you drink, smoke, and dance with Chaeryeong. Even with the alcohol leaving you happy, you’re still uneasy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being observed, no matter how many times you tell yourself that’s absolutely insane — there are people in every possible corner of the place, and no one’s paying attention to you.

However, Chaery also seems to be opposed to the logical part of your brain.

“I think you should go for it,” Your best friend tells you, after long minutes of heavily flirting with a barbie-like girl from afar.

You’re nearly sure you know that girl, actually. She’s from your hometown, most likely; her heart-shaped mouth and cherubic features are impossible to miss.

There’s nothing more like Chaery than going to a party located 2 hours away just to fuck around with the same people you’ve known since elementary school.

Your best friend turns around, filling up both of your drinks, even though yours is only halfway empty.

You frown. “Go for what?”

It’s Chaeryeong’s turn to be annoyed at you. She throws her free arm on your shoulders, gesturing to the middle of the living room area, where four good-looking girls stand with critical looks, acting like they own the place.

Which, judging by their style and the way they carry themselves, they might as well do.

Chaeryeong points in their direction with her head, never in her life subtle. “The one in the middle has not stopped staring at you ever since we’ve arrived. Ryujin, they say it’s her name.” Your friend’s excited tone grabs your attention, and you finally take a look at the small group she’s so enamored by. “I think you should go get her.”

Your friend has always had a good taste in women, and this time’s no different. They are beautiful, crushingly so, all hanging out by the long couch, circled by many people who seem to fight for an ounce of their attention. They stay disinterested, though, not paying them as much as a quick look.

One has sharp eyes, listening attentively to what a jumpy redhead and a blonde girl have to say as she sips on her Marguerita. At last, you observe the raven-haired girl Chaeryeong mentioned: she stands powerful in the middle, her sharp features giving her an intimidating look. To your surprise, she’s already staring— her dark eyes examining you with such hunger your heart starts beating rapidly as if there were no one else in the room. Electric shocks fly through your body upon her piercing gaze, and you look away immediately.

“She’s creepy.” You take a long gulp of your drink, in hopes of washing away the urge of sneaking her a glance once again.

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, nudging you. “Just how you like them.” She scoffs, then, when she realizes you won’t answer — not in the mood to indulge her little monologues. “Please, Y/n, for once in your life just—“

You interrupt your friend, taking a step back and giving her a fake smile. “I need to use the bathroom, but I’ll catch up with you soon, Chaery.” Getting away from her as fast as you can in such a crowded space, you’re still able to hear her voice as you ascend the grand staircase, screaming while raising her cup in your direction to prove her point.

“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, Y/N! IF YOU TAKE TOO LONG, I’LL COME AND GET YOU.” You can’t help but laugh, fully knowing she means it.

Even though you escape her lecture — hearing that same discourse at least once a day ever since you can remember, you know Chaeryeong means well. It’s a matter of fact: you’ve always been the responsible one, caring and supervising others, to the point people always referred to you as “lame” or “boring”. Whether it was at the Diner, with your reckless family, or dealing with your friend’s spontaneousness, you’re unable to help it: being careful comes naturally to you, always thinking about countless opportunities for every situation possible.

Before opening many doors — the place was indeed massive, leaving you to wonder how many rooms there are — you finally find a bathroom. Without rushing, you take a deep breath, washing your face in hopes of easing your mind, too.

For the first time in many hours, you have time to truly think about the events of the day. Weariness infiltrates your bones as you grip both sides of the sink, not daring to look at yourself in the mirror. Looking at your face, your features, means staring at your sister, too. At your father, the whole dirty business you do for a living and how you’re also to blame, no matter how much you avoid taking part in it. You belong in this world, there’s no denying it.

Only you so wish you weren’t.

Sitting on the toilet, you hug your knees, waiting for the tears to come. They never do; you only feel an emptiness inside your tainted soul. Somehow, you’ve already gotten used to this entire mess. Crying and pitying yourself won’t change anything.

The door opens, and Ryujin is standing in front of you before you can make yourself look presentable. She’s as intimidating as she was from afar, her thick boots making her look taller.

“Sorry for taking so long, I needed a moment. I’ll go now.” You get up quickly, trying to brush past her as you murmur excuses for keeping the bathroom all to yourself, even though she doesn’t seem to mind.

With a hand brushing your waist, she says, tone low and husked. “It’s ok. I can take you to somewhere quieter if you’d like.” Her posture is relaxed and patient, waiting for you to answer. “Listening to loud music for too long can be a bother.”

You don’t exactly know why you agree; perhaps it’s her voice, soothing and sensual — even though you somehow know her invite is not one seeking sex, or her dark eyes, staring at you like she could undress your soul and be aware of your deepest secrets. Regardless of the motives, you feel drawn to her, almost as if she’d cast a spell on you, luring you in. So you nod, allowing yourself to enter the labyrinth of corridors as Ryujin walks by your side, without rushing. Only when the two of you stop by a black, wooden door, she turns back to you. You step inside, as the world behind you suddenly turns quiet.

You’re fully aware of the risks you’re taking. She’s a stranger, and you know nothing about each other. You should be jumpy, wary in the least.

Instead, for the first time in many years, there’s not a train of thoughts running through your head, thinking about millions of possibilities and outcomes of every little thing you’ve ever witnessed.

As you walk into the middle of the spacious room, you feel nothing but calm.

-

Ryujin has good taste.

You’re not stupid: you know the bedroom you’re currently in belongs to her. The walls are made of wood, carved in light brown, and most of the furniture is black, a true portrait of how she presents herself — all dark and mysterious. Her bed stands appealing in the middle, the covers undone and inviting, while numerous papers rest neatly on her desk, but it’s the content on the wall that catches your attention. A map of the country, covered with red strings and pins linking numerous places. There are names written, too, as well as keywords and small texts.

“I’m a good listener. If you’d like to, naturally.” She takes a blunt out of her pocket, gesturing to you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” You give her a small smile in acknowledgment. “It’s your room, anyway.”

She laughs. “Smart girl.”

“I’ll pass on your invitation to listen, though.” You continue as you stare at her closely, curious about how she’d react. Her blazer made her shirt ride up, revealing part of her toned abdomen, and you can’t help but ogle, mouth dry at the sight.

God, she’s so hot, sitting casually like that.
“As you wish. No problem.” Ryujin doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, which provides you with enough confidence to start looking around again.

A black wooden bookshelf catches your attention, standing on the opposite side of the windows and the balcony, and you’re appalled by how vast it is. It nearly occupies the entire wall, with numerous books. It’s the only part of the room that has any color besides black, brown, or white, and the books all seem pretty worn out. You brush your fingers through the shelves, lost in paradise.

“Do you expect us to fuck?” You don’t turn to face her as you ask, without shame. Strangely, you feel like you could tell her whatever you wanted to.

She shrugs, adjusting her pillows so she’d lie comfortably, looking rather small in the massive bed. The words leave her mouth so casually like nothing was ever complicated. “If you'd like to, maybe.” Her eyes travel to your body, and you shiver, once again feeling exposed. “You’re pretty. You have a beautiful body, too. So, sure.”

“Why did you bring me here, then? If not to fuck.” You murmur, eyeing her as your fingers brush a specific book, waiting for her permission.

You take it from its place once she nods, freeing the smoke from her lungs. The Waves, highlighted and annotated.

“You looked as if you had many thoughts going on in your head.” She runs her hand through her shiny, pitch-black hair, casually. “This is my quiet place. I figured you could use a little peace for a while, too.”

She was so right. From the time you entered her room, you felt nothing but peace, as if your emotional turmoil had cooled down for a few moments.

Maybe it was the calming energy Ryujin emanates or the way she looks at you so curiously. Anyway, you decide she’s worth it.

You were not exactly fond of meeting new people, much less welcoming them into your life. You didn’t feel the need to add anyone — you could barely keep up with the amount of drama you had, with not that many people. You have a best friend, a father, a stepmother, grandparents, a sister, and her friends who were your acquaintances. Not a massive crowd, but just enough for you.

However, you feel the need to let this girl in, too.

Jumping on the bed, you don’t stop until you’re near enough to feel the warmth of the blunt Ryujin holds. You lean on your elbows, facing down whilst she’s facing up, hands behind her head to support herself as she stares at the ceiling.

“I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.” You say, determined not to feel threatened by her piercing gaze and those midnight eyes that carry such mystery.

Ryujin laughs, shaking the hand you offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. I’m Ryujin.”

She stares back, her eyes undressing you as if she’s the keeper of all your secrets. You look away. She laughs again.

Your mind wanders to Chaeryeong’s words, always eager to talk about how you should take more risks and live freely. Perhaps she’s right; you should stop worrying too much and overthinking every single thing.

You snuggle yourself even closer to Ryujin, still deciding. “But are you good?”

She frowns, turning to you. “Probably. But good at what, exactly?”

“In bed, obviously.” You roll your eyes. “Are you a good fuck?”

Being so close to her allows you to see the switch your words provoke. Her eyes darken, and she fixes her posture, no longer carefree and unbothered. No… the girl whose eyes roam over your body is far from inviting or calming. She’s powerful, just as you watched her present herself downstairs, earlier at night. With strong hands, she grabs one of your thighs, bringing you so close you’re able to play with the collar of her silk shirt.

“Why do you ask, Y/n?” Ryunjin’s hands brush your neck in a careful motion, tucking your hair away so she’s able to run her nose through your skin. One look at her, and you know she enjoys toying with you like that too much.

As she must do with anyone, you suppose.

“Well…” You look down, although still leaning at her touch. “‘Cause I want you to fuck me, of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking.”

She doesn’t mind your impatient tone but doesn’t touch you either, even after your words. If anything, she just keeps staring at your body, as if imagining all the things she’d do.

“And how would I do that, exactly?” You roll your eyes, ready to give her a defiant answer when she grabs you by the chin, ever so gently. “Make sure to be clear with your words, my angel.”

And it’s that tone once again — so low-pitched and raspy, that makes you gulp, barely breathing under the enchanting, mysterious girl’s touches. Besides being in control at all times: when you’ve decided to accompany Ryujin to her bedroom, when initiating this battle of desire… you finally come to realize how different it is, this once. This time, Ryujin’s question presents itself as a warning, its meaning loud and clear even though it was unsaid. If you agreed to this, she would be the one in control. She’d take as much as she pleased, however, you wished her to do.

Something that is so appealing to you. Not because you feel the need to let go; no, you’ve done much of that throughout all of your life — being your family’s pawn, toy, and little doll to show off to other powerful families, making a profit over the image of perfection.

No, Ryujin’s offer is appealing simply because you’re curious to see what she’d do to you. You feel drawn to her, with a sudden urge to be under her touch, to have her inside of you.

You want her to do the most unspeakable, filthy things to your body, bringing you enough pleasure to fuck you dumb, until all of your worries are washed away and long gone.

Her. You want her.

So you stand on your knees, taking your time with unclasping your bra and throwing your shirt off the ground, long hair flowing gracefully as you move, cascading down your hips. It’s only once you’re done that you speak, long after letting her watch as you make a show out of the small act.

“I want you to pleasure me.” You say, with a voice just as lustrous as hers. “I’m sure you’ve been spoiled enough in sex. Prove it to me, then. And if you’re good enough, maybe I’ll satisfy you, too.”

She smiles, exposing her canine teeth as she watches you crawl to her. Within seconds, you’re between her legs, her mouth hot and wet on your clavicle — then wasting no time to go to your breasts, as she kisses and sucks on your skin. Making sure to bruise, to mark her presence. Territorial.

“Your wish is my command, angel of mine.” She murmurs, breath warm on your skin.

Ryujin’s taste is bitter, much like poison. Still, her lips are addicting, and it’s easy to lose yourself in between the sultry kisses you share. Your skin, your insides — you’re on fire, so turned on it burns.

Her hands, skilled and lithe, wander through your body, squeezing and groping as she pleases. Such a tease, she is. You can easily tell how delighted she is to be able to take her time, caressing the insides of your thighs as you huff, impatient. She’s so close, yet so far from where you need her. Your cunt aches, sticky and needy for something, anything.

Yearning for release after such a stressful day, you feel your body trembling with anticipation. Soon enough, you’re under her, both of your clothes long thrown on the ground. It’s hard not to blush with how she’s looking at your naked body, licking her lips as she spits, a long trail of saliva going from her fingers to your wet cunt.

You need more of her. Desperately.

Tugging her hair, you let out a loud whine. “You’re so mean, Ryujin.”

“I am.” Her answer comes immediately, as she lowers her body until her mouth is close to your pussy. She brushes the hair away from her face, eyes still heavily focused on your dripping cunt. Ryujin cups your ass, one of your legs resting on her shoulder as she brings your sex as close to her face as possible. Her eyes are starstruck, long-lost in your body as she parts your folds before giving your cunt a messy, wet kiss.

Her actions are more than enough to turn you into a withering mess: her mouth is everywhere, working her way inside of your walls with such vigor you feel so full, your troubled thoughts long forgotten. She works wonders, her tongue teasing your entrance and alternating between lapping on your clit, circling your hardened bud as you moan, squirming almost desperately. You’ve never been this sensible, yet Ryujin reverberates all of her actions through your body harder than usual — even the mere brush of her fingers has her holding your thighs firmly, to keep you from moving so much and closing your legs away.

Incoherent words leave your mouth so fast that you’d be ashamed if you were able to think about anything. Your long nails scratch her bare back in random patterns, leaving her skin so red you close your hands in a sudden wave of consciousness, shy as you bring them to your chest.

She stops too, ignoring your whines as she looks up to you with a serious face, her mouth swollen and glistening with your juices. “If you stop, I’ll stop.” She grabs your hands, placing them on her once again. It’s so sweet, somehow delicate how she handles you, much different from the way she acts with anyone else. “Don’t hold yourself back.”

You nod, gulping. She has two of her fingers aligned with your slit, spreading your juices through your pussy with that little smug smile of hers before easing them inside. They slide in easily, the gushing sounds filling the room along with your voice. “Ryujin… oh f-fuck!”

“Touch your nipples.” Ryujin commands, mouth closing against your clit once again. She licks and applies a weak suction, not yet enough to overstimulate you. You’re long gone, though, incapable of forming any thoughts on your pretty head, let alone following any commands. She knows it, which is the reason her hands grope your tits with strength, massaging. “You’re sensitive, angel. Touch them for me, will you?”

It seems to work, this time. You mumble a response to her patient tone, hands going straight to your nipples as you cup your breasts. They weren’t exactly big, but certainly not small either. If you squeezed them tightly — as you were currently, doing, you could fit them in your hands. Biting your lip, you flick your thumbs through the hardened buds, circling your areolas as your fingers twist and pinch your nipples.

The action sends a shock of electricity through your body, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Good girl, Y/n. God, your tits are so pretty. You look so pretty like this, doing so good for me.” You barely register her words, although it doesn’t seem necessary; if anything, Ryujin seems to be speaking to herself. She lifts her head, fingers thrusting in even deeper as she judges the bruises on your hips with hard eyes. Her voice is different, too, serious as she adds, “Must’ve been a tough day, hm? You’re all bruised, my love. And I haven’t given you any of these.”

“Something like that, I guess.” You murmur, closing your eyes to focus on how good she is making you feel.

She kisses each one of your bruises with delicacy, looking somehow annoyed. Her brows are furrowed, and her lips are pouty, making it easy to tell she’s lost in thought. Because of her reaction, you lift her chin, cocking your head to the sides as you try to figure her out. It seems to wake her up from her trance, instead. Ryujin takes your fingers and sucks, staring at you while her tongue wets your index and thumb just as she was doing to your pussy, moments prior.

This girl’s going to be the death of you.

Her attention returns to your cunt, swollen and red, as she fastens the thrusts on your slit. It hits deep, each movement bringing you closer to the orgasm you ache for. A third finger is added, then, and you feel yourself close to the edge. Ryujin must’ve felt your muscles clenching, too, since she’s quick to give your clit one last, deep suck.

It feels like there’s no air left in the room. The pleasure that was building up in your lower abdomen explodes, with violent waves of pleasure erupting and giving you the best sensation you’ve ever felt. It’s ecstatic, as if thousands of fireworks live in every little space of your body. You feel spectacular, but more than that, you feel alive. With a high cry, you cum, Ryujin’s fingers still working their way inside, helping you ride out from your orgasm. She’s careful to not touch your clit, just staring at your fucked out face as your chest moves rapidly, trying to even your breathing.

After a few minutes, you squirm, expecting her to distance herself and stop touching your cunt.

It’s not what happens, though — in a blink, she’s all over you, working her way up your body with wet kisses until your lips meet once again in a messy kiss.

“You’re relaxed now, right?” She says, sucking on your lower lip. “And you were so perfect, angel. It’s my turn. Can you give me one more? Do you think you can do it for me?”

Suddenly, you’re all hot again, as her fingers thrust into you deeper and deeper. You’re dizzy, more than happy to drink on her and let her drive you into pleasure as she says so.

“R-ryujin…” You chant her name, clinging to the girl.

It doesn’t take you long to cum, this time. The orgasm that drags through your body is strong but slow, leaving you full in more ways than you’ll ever be able to describe.

“So good.” She says, hands tight on your waist and caressing your abdomen, with no rush at all. “You’re doing so good, Y/n.”

Your cunt feels empty without her fingers inside, pussy swollen and pleased. Even though she’s right by your side, you miss her, reaching out for her touches. She’s more than eager to comply, holding you close as she kisses the top of your head, brushing the long strands of hair away from your face.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped up in a warm bubble that has you completely in peace. Your muscles relax, and you feel the tiredness in your bones, pleading for sleep. It’s easy to get lost in Ryujin’s arms, forgetting your duties and obligations until your mind is filled with her.

Just as quickly, you’re thrown back into reality by the doorknob — it’s forced from the outside, although the door doesn’t move, thankfully locked. It’s most likely someone drunk, searching for a place to have fun with someone, but the action is enough for you to remember the reason you’ve attended such a party: an energetic girl with dark hair and the worst sense of humor you’ve ever seen, who was probably worried sick about you and cursing your entire existence.

With that in mind, you get up, grabbing your dispersed clothes on the floor and putting them on. Ryujin’s stare is attentive, following your every move. She’s still comfortable in her bed, not bothering to cover herself as she reaches out for the blunt on her nightstand.

“You can stay, if you’d like.” Her voice has a special effect on you. It makes your body relax instantly, and you breathe in. “Enjoy the quietude. There’s no need to run away.”

“I’m not running away.” You frown, somehow bothered that she thinks so. Grunting, you clarify, “I’d like to… hum, continue this. But my friend’s been waiting for long now. She must be going crazy, thinking I’ve been kidnapped or something. I have to take care of her.”

“Why so?” There it is. That smirk, the air of superiority that adds to Ryujin’s strong façade. It’s almost as if she’s mocking you, playing with her words. “Is she a child? Or just so stupid she can’t take care of herself…”

Your face reddens, and you finish tying your shoes just as quickly as you turn to her, both hands gripping her bed frame so you’re able to jerk your body forward. “Chaeryeong’s not stupid. Watch your fucking mouth.”

People could say anything they wanted about you. In fact, they already did — ever since you were little and your mother had left, people judged and made assumptions about your life. It was impossible not to be a target, with a family like yours, handling the business that you do. It did hurt, at the beginning, but you’ve eventually figured it out: people talked about everyone, and you weren’t special. They were so miserable and uninteresting that they’d criticize every single little thing, no matter how invisible you tried to be. It’s just how they were.

However, any words directed at your best friend are enough for you to get into messy fights. No one was allowed to talk shit about her. Not cheerful, bright Chaeryeong, who had the biggest, cutest smile and the purest intentions in her heart. You’d never allow it.

Seeing how serious you were, Ryujin’s smile dropped. She tapped her blunt in the ashtray, careful to not let the dust spill. “You’re right, she’s not. I apologize.” Although she doesn’t look sorry at all. It’s as if everything is a big joke to her; which, with such a lavish house, you know it most likely is.

Rich people are always assholes.

Humming, you roll your eyes as you try to fix your hair, failing terribly. It’s still as wild as ever, stubbornly fighting your fingers when you run your hands through its entire length, in attempts of detangling something. The subject’s been brushed off when she speaks again, breaking the silence without any awkwardness. “Yeji is keeping an eye on her, anyway. So you don’t need to fry your neurons and die of preoccupation.”

It’s awkward — you’re awkward, meanwhile, the girl looks completely at ease as she takes another hold of smoke into her lungs, naked in all her glory. God, she’s so hot; her muscles are defined, and she’s simply beautiful, like a fallen angel. It takes all of you to not fall down on your knees immediately, begging to eat her out and make her scream in pleasure like she’s done to you. But you’re also tired, and you really need to let your friend know you’re alive and well. There’s nothing more that you hate than being a bother, so you can’t let her alone, wondering if you’ve forgotten about her presence.

“You really are good.” You stare at your hands, letting out a faint giggle. It’s amazing how suddenly shy you are, given how you were begging just minutes prior. “A good fuck, I mean. You are.” In a blink, you’re by the door, gripping the doorknob with an unnecessary amount of strength. “I hope to return the favor, someday.”

“Someday.” She says, tone enigmatic as ever. You’ve noticed she’s annoyingly good at hiding her expressions, always with a bored look on her face. “See you, Y/n.”

You don’t say anything else as you leave the room, losing yourself in the labyrinth of corridors without looking back.

-

Turns out Chaeryeong is still at the same place she was when you left, thankfully. She jumps into your arms as soon as she sees you, sighing in relief. “I’m going to kill you! Where have you been? I looked everywhere!”

You hold her firmly by the waist, her voice a few quarters higher than usual. Chaery might not be tall, but in this drunken state, she’s heavy, nearly dragging both of you to the ground. She laughs uncontrollably, happy to have you by her side once again.

“The bathroom line was too long.” You lie, taking the drink from her hands as you take a sip. It’s strong, provoking a nauseous sensation that you ignore as you swallow it down.

The lie comes naturally, not because you feel like you have to hide what happened from your best friend, but simply because you find yourself too tired to explain. She’s going to make you repeat yourself as soon as she sobers up again, anyway.

She knows it, though. “Liar! You were doing something.” The girl narrows her eyes, a confused expression on her face as she brushes the hair away from your neck. “Where’d you get a new necklac— Y/n! You dirty whore!”

You can’t help but laugh as she examines the hickeys Ryujin left on your skin, mouth opened in a big “O” — slightly pushing her off you. Chaeryeong stumbles, hitting the wall with her shoulders as she tries to gather her balance.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay? M’ too tired right now.” You promise, not giving her drink back once she reaches out for it.

Chaeryeong doesn’t seem to mind, jumping up and down in excitement. She grabs you by the shoulders, shaking your body with a smile that nearly covers her entire face. “My girl’s getting some game, wow! I’m so happy for you, Y/n! You have no idea. Do you know how many times I wished you got someone? I seriously thought you were going to turn into a nun or something.”

“Hey!” You protest, “I’m not a prude! The last time I had kissed someone was like, last month or something.”

Chaery stops jumping, thankfully. She pays no mind to your grumbling, twirling, and moving along with the blasting music’s rhythm. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

You eye her with narrowed eyes, but she stops all of her movements before you can give her a sneaky response. Her face pales, and she gulps deeply.

“Are you okay, Chaery?” No response. Chaeryeong’s eyes are fixated on the wall behind you, the colorful lights and blasting music from the living room surely doing nothing but overwhelming her even more.

“Yeah.” She looks up, sighing. “Just felt this sudden urge to t—“ The way she covers her mouth is enough of a sign, for you. Acting quickly, you pull her to the gardens, as Chaeryeong tries her best to not jerk her body forward. It’s immediate: she throws up as soon as she finds a bush to lean on, the effects of the alcohol, adrenaline, and visual stimulation from the party getting to her organism.

“I guess you kept your drinking game high while I was busy?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood. It works, you can tell Chaery’s laughing by the way her small shoulders move. She gives you a thumbs up, too, her face still shoved in between the leaves. “Okay. Are you good to be by yourself for a few moments? I’ll get you some water, then I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” Your friend manages to say, lying down on the grass. Her hair is all messy, and her face remains pale. “I’m fine now, though. 100%.”


“I’m still getting you the water.” You get up from where you were kneeling, too, rushing towards the kitchen entry with hurried steps.

You’re not too worried, though. This wasn’t exactly an unusual situation — sometimes Chaeryeong would drink too much, too fast… sometimes you would. It was a pain in the ass, naturally, and you’d always wake up deeply hungover the next day, but it wasn’t something to be deeply preoccupied with.

Humming to yourself, you open the fridge, in hopes of finding a bottle of fresh water. It was better than going to the bar set in the lively living room and asking for one, anyway. You barely notice a girl standing next to you, handing exactly what you’re looking for. She’s one of Ryujin’s friends, you reckon — her sunset, pin-straight hair compliments her features effortlessly, as her hypnotizing eyes stare at you attentively.

You know a judgmental look when you see one. This one’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“For your pretty friend.” She says, waiting patiently for you to take the bottle from her hands. You do, still silent, yet your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t scare her away. She keeps babbling, not minding you at all. “I hope she feels better.”

It’s as though she knows something you don’t, and the hidden mockery in the air leaves you uneasy.

“Thanks…” You murmur, playing with the bottle in your hands. Before you brush past her to return to your friend, she adds.

“—Yeji. That’s my name.” Yeji tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, waving you goodbye with feigned innocency. “Bye, Y/n. Make sure Chaeryeong arrives home safely.”

Chaery’s had an eye on her earlier, nearly fucking her from afar while you were in your own world, lost in thoughts. They probably had some fun before you came back to your friend, that’s all.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you lean next to Chaeryeong again, trying to ease the knot in your stomach as you give her the plastic bottle.

“Here, don’t drink it all at once.” You say, chuckling as the girl nearly drowns herself in the water, desperate to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. “It’s been a long day, Chaeryeong. Let’s go home.”

She gladly takes the hand you offer, groaning as she shakes the remains of grass from her pants. “I had fun, though. Today was a fun day, Y/n. Did you have fun too?”

There’s mischief all over her face, making it impossible for you to feel down. It’s her gift, being able to lift your spirits with her lame jokes and energetic nature.

“Of course, Chaery. I always have fun when I’m with you.” You nod.

Your words please her, and she leans her head against your shoulder as you make your way to the car, side by side.

It’s late, and you’re tired. You’d handle it all in the morning.

-

Despite the weariness that penetrates thick in your bones, you’re punctual as always, doodling in your journal by the counter as the sun fights its way up against the messy fog of the morning. It’s a routine you’ve been doing ever since you were a teenager: going out, partying, and going to so many places until dawn, while still showing up to work at the Diner in the following morning.

You’d get some rest, eventually. For now, the four hours of sleep you had were enough to keep you up, somehow. Besides, Saturday mornings are always some of the slowest days at the place, with hardly anyone coming for breakfast. People liked to sleep in, trying to gather all the hours they’ve lost from having to wake up early for work, you guess — which is why the place is empty, no customers to be seen.

There’s a hard slam on the corner, and you lift your eyes to follow the sound. You’re greeted by Rosé: her baby-pink hair is even messier than usual, and her leather jacket seems to be the only thing protecting her from the chilly weather. It does little to ease her, though — Your sister’s shorts expose her legs, dirty and scratched. At least her crop top is thick, the black clothing making her seem even more intimidating. And she smells of smoke, instead of her usual cologne.

“You look like shit.” You’re the first to break the silence, as your eyes return to your sketch. It’s not an easy thing to do, but you try your best to act indifferent to your sister’s piercing stare. “I’m taking you haven’t had any sleep at all.”

She’s fuming, you know that. Somehow, Rosé’s cold attitude is much worse than her red fire. Her quietness scares you, as it should. It’s never a good sign.

“Have you ever been anything other than useless, all your life?” She spits, and her words hurt, no matter how long you’ve mentally prepared yourself to have that talk, ever since you left the warehouse. “I asked you to do one thing, Y/n. One fucking thing, and you managed to fuck it all up! God, you’re such a failure.”

Your mouth is dry, all of your courage going down the drain as you stare at the woman in front of you. Suddenly, you’re a little kid again, playing your part as Rosé’s little doll so you’d receive a smile, a praise, anything from her. You’d do anything to get her to acknowledge you, having to fight for her attention like everyone else.

But not anymore.

She hits the counter again, visibly enraged. You shove your finger at her chest, fighting back before she destroys you with her words — like she’s so good at.

“And you’re a fucking liar! Fuck you, Rosé. You fucking lied to me, saying we’d meet Wendy because you knew damn well I’d say no to dealing with Jinsoul. And you know what? I was fucking right!” Saying the words out loud is enough to give you courage. When you speak again, your tone is low, sharp like she’d taught you. “We could’ve gotten seriously hurt out there, Rosé. And you were fully aware of that when you sent us into that fucking trap! You’re in no position to demand anything.”

Rosé runs her hands through her hair, and you can tell she’s exhausted, too. She’s always hidden things from you, so it’s impossible to know what’s going on in her life. Although you can’t bring yourself to care, anymore.

“We need that money, Y/n!” She shouts, exasperated. If her stare could burn, you’d be long dead. “How do you think things work, huh? Who do you think is paying for that fancy college of yours — our house, the food we eat every day? It’s me! I provide for us, with that dirty money you hate so much. So wake up! Fucking idiot. Stop being such a burden and help, for once.”

You know it’s true. Even though your father is supposedly the one in charge, Rosé is the true leader. Needless to say, you’re grateful for all of those things.

Which doesn’t make Rosé any less of an asshole.

“You’re a shit sister.” You lean on the chair, your icy tone placing a blunt contrast to her fiery screams. “And an absolutely horrible person. I despise you.”

A flash of hurt passes through Rosé’s eyes, so fast you wonder if you’ve imagined it. But as fast as it happens, it’s over with. Instantly, her defenses are up again, and your sister looks down on you, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms in the middle of her chest.

“You’re tiring me.” She huffs, her tone making it clear she is done with the conversation. Rosé leans on the counter and shoves your shoulders on a punch before storming away, slamming the entry door loudly. “I’m going out, to clean the mess you’ve made. Like always.”

Tears start to cloud your vision as you watch her hop on her car, the roaming of the engines making her feelings clear enough for anyone to understand. She’s an asshole, you know it; but it’s hard to not be upset by her lack of care towards you. You long for her approval and affection, getting anything other than that is enough to leave you deeply hurt.

It’s frustrating, to feel like that over such a shitty situation. You don’t even know if the tears you shed come from sadness or from anger, as you brush them away from your face.

A lithe figure hits the window to grab your attention, and you’re deeply surprised to see Ryujin barging in, walking towards you in confident steps. She chooses the table closest to you, resting her arms over the chairs next to hers.

“Good morning, Y/n.” She says, completely comfortable.

“Morning.” You can’t help but frown, confused. At least her presence offers enough of a distraction from your actual problems. “What are you doing here, Ryujin?”

Ryujin smiles, her eyes small and dazed, so pretty it should be a crime. The rays of weak sunlight brighten her face, making her seem almost innocent. Much different from the night prior. “I heard this place had great food, so I came to check. I woke up pretty hungry, you know.”

“Sure.” You hum, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I’ll have some waffles, pancakes, and coffee. Black, and with no sugar, please.” She says, after looking at the menu. You nod, making your way to the kitchen as quickly as possible, in hopes of escaping her intense stares.

It’s unsettling, how you’re able to feel her gaze burning holes on your back. The sensation takes you back to the night prior, a tingling sensation looking for a place in your core. You push it away, opening the double doors of the cooking area.

“Yoona unnie?” You look for the woman, watching her put her phone down to pay you attention. Smiling, you hand her a small note. “We have a customer.”

“Oh, so early! No one comes on Saturdays.” She mumbles, peeking out behind you to spot Ryujin, who stares at the road in boredom. “I’ll prepare it quickly. Meanwhile, you can go entertain her.”

You laugh at Yoona’s suggestion, shaking your head. “I’d rather wait here, with you.”

Yoona’s face turns serious, as she points at you. “No one is allowed in the kitchen while I cook. Goodbye, Y/n.” You grumble, having no choice but to go back to Ryujin while the woman pushes you out the doors.

Having coffee without any sugar is a trait reserved for psychopaths, which you think suits Ryujin well. You pour her drink in your favorite mug, before returning to her table.

“I thought you also cooked.” The raven-haired girl stands when you approach, promptly pulling the chair in front of herself.

She gestures for you to sit, and you frown, ready to argue that you are still working. The knowing look she gives you is enough to make you sit down, obedient.

“I can’t cook to save my life.” You explain, giggling to cover the shame of having to admit such a fact. “Yoona does it effortlessly, though. Her pastries are the best.”

Ryujin nods, scrunching her nose as she looks around. “And where’s your friend, may I ask?” Her smirk turns playful, pointy canines exposed at you. “Are you not taking care of her right now?”

“She’s not a child, right? She can take care of herself.” Although you play along in her game — repeating what she’d told you the day prior, you’re also quick to add. “Besides, she’s sleeping right now. Chaery always sleeps until late after a party.”

“Lucky her.” Ryujin whistles, and you agree. You wish you could sleep like your best friend, too. Not only did Chaeryeong often sleep until late at noon, but she’s also the heaviest sleeper you’ve ever met, unlike yourself. You envy her ability to sleep through literally anything possible.

Yoona calls for you to get Ryujin’s order, which you quickly do. The dishes look impeccable once you place them on the table. Yoona never misses.

It wasn’t rare to have customers who came by themselves, with the desire to have a moment of peace and enjoy their meals. With that in mind, you motion to leave, leaving Ryujin alone to do just that. She surprises you by grabbing your hand, ever so gently.

“This one’s for you, actually.” She pushes the pancake plate in your direction, hand still holding on to yours. Her fingers trace gentle circles in your palm. “Would mind joining me? I hate to eat alone.”

Leaving you without words is, apparently, one of Ryujin’s many talents. Once again, you feel drawn to her, incapable of saying no. It’s something in her eyes, you suppose; the way she stares at you, attentive, from the moment you first met each other. She acknowledges every little detail about you, and most importantly, she listens. You didn’t know someone could understand you entirely like that — it’s both thrilling and scary, to know you’re so aligned.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You murmur, and she shakes her head, in a clear sign that you don’t.

The two of you eat, soon engaged in lively conversation. It’s a pleasant surprise, to know Ryujin is much more than a pretty, intimidating face: she’s smart, funny, and very attentive. You both enjoy the same books, and she’s respectful and mindful when sharing her perspective about topics you disagree on. Time flies, and you find yourself comfortable in her presence.

Getting you to talk about yourself is difficult — even Chaeryeong has to ask repeatedly to get information from you. You just can’t help it: being raised to be a discreet, private person has created the habit of bottling up your emotions, and hiding things until you couldn’t handle them anymore.

However, the words flow freely with Ryujin. You want to share about your life, your hobbies, the people you love… it’s just somewhat easy when it comes to her.

And she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Far from that, Ryujin drinks from you: acknowledging every little detail about yourself, enchanted and marveled.

You barely notice how quickly you’ve eaten breakfast, not even a small bite left. Ryujin is surprised, too, to not have noticed either. You’ve distracted her and knocked down her defenses without even meaning to do so.

“Okay, so I might’ve come here with a purpose…” She says, and you shake your head. Of course, she did. “In my defense, I found this on my bedside table, a little after you left, and it looked pretty fancy to just keep to myself.”

In her hands, there’s a cross necklace, shining in bright silver. Your fingers go to your neck unconsciously, in hopes of touching the one you kept with yourself at all times — only to hold on to the air, instead. You grasp, bile bundling up in your stomach at the thought of the hours you’ve spent without your precious necklace.

As soon as you reach out for it, Ryujin holds the jewelry away from your hands.

“May I?” She unclasps the lock, gesturing to where it should be rested.

You nod, eager to have your necklace back. Holding your hair away from your face, you turn around, waiting for her. Her breath is hot on the back of your neck, and for a moment, you think she might kiss you. Instead, she takes a step back, a proud look on her face as she runs her thumb against the bruises on your collarbone. “There. All done, angel.”

“Thank you.” The words that leave your mouth are sincere, and you can’t muster how grateful you truly are. “I… Thank you, really. This is so important to me. How can I repay you?”

No matter how much you might hate Rosé at the current moment, that necklace means everything to you. It reminds you of a time when things were less complicated. When you were too young to understand what was truly going on in your life, lost in the innocence of childhood.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ryujin brushes it off, getting up quickly. She drops some money on the table, definitely much more than what she’s ordered. “We’ll see each other soon. Bye, Y/n. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Just as fast as she appeared, Ryujin’s gone. Leaving you to wonder what’s underneath all that mysterious façade, you go back to your chores, unable to brush the raven-haired girl off from your thoughts.

—

Rosé’s been having one hell of a week. Weeks, or even a month.

As if dealing with her family’s business wasn’t enough, with people constantly waiting for an opportunity to betray her and plan their downfall, this new gang that’s been stealing all her clients and supplies has been pissing her off in ways she didn’t deem possible. And now, she has your stupid feelings to worry about. God, you’re so damn sensitive it drives her crazy.

“Rosie?” Lisa’s voice reminds the woman she’s in the middle of a meeting — one she called herself. “What’s going on? You’ve been distracted ever since you walked through the door.”

“Yeah. This fucking sucks, but don’t fret too much. It’s not like we’ve not dealt with situations like those before. Those bitches will get what they deserve.” Jisoo says, in an attempt to soothe Rosé’s nerves. Her tone is excited — perhaps too much.

She’s always been a little masochist.

They’re right, which only makes Rosé more frustrated. She should be planning her revenge, not pouting over a stupid fight.

“I know, it’s just—“ She sighs. “Never mind. Let’s get this over with.”

They all nod, chatting vividly, but Rosé’s phone lights up before she’s able to join the conversation. There’s a message from an unknown number, which is unusual.

The content of it is what unsettles her the most. Her mouth dries and the air runs from her lungs as she stares at the image sent — A picture of you, boobs covered by someone’s arms and bare waist filled with bruises.

The message under it says Thank you for the guns and the snack. I’ll make sure to come back for more, later.

It doesn’t have a slight indication of who sent it, but Rosé doesn’t need a confirmation. She knows exactly who did.

“Jennie!” She screams, even though the girl is not far away from herself, sitting by the long table in the dining room. “Grab the stuff immediately. We’ll do this at my house, instead.” And so she turns, barging orders as she goes.

No one’s going to use her little sister as bait and live.

This newcomer might’ve had a few strikes of beginner's luck, but Rosé’s patience had run thin. She wouldn’t tolerate any insolences anymore, no.

She’ll have Ryujin’s head.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Stay with me, forever

This one is for my lovely @rae-pss <3 but this feels less hot and more disturbing ;-; - honestly, I felt a little twisted writing this

Dom!reader x sub!michael? - Reader is gender neutral

REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Warning: a little dark (content), masturbation (mika), nipple play, doesn’t align with the canon events, reader got kidnapped, Mika mistakes you for luci - (calls you Hyung, brother), Stockholm Syndrom?

Word count: 2.6k

Each day was the same. Boring, stressful and exhausting. The unnerving quietness of heaven was pleasing at first, now after some time it has become annoying. Not a single noise could be heard, expect for the occasional fights that would break out between the seraphim’s. You didn’t need to watch to know who’d be fighting again, obviously it was the one who put you in this misery. Mindless gaze staring out of the window, wondering when you will be freed from this misery. How you earned to be somewhere else right now. Anywhere would be better. Hell, earth, or simply a few rooms to the left.

Long have you gotten too tired of this, of his possessiveness yet pitiful nature. You truly pitied that man, though in such situations who is the most pitiful, if not you? As if your heart sunk into the bottoms of the ocean, there was no chance of return. How many days have it been? Your sense of time has dulled, as well as other sensations. Excitement, anticipation, happiness. Was your appearance the cause of all of this, your genetics? No, none of it. It was sorely the fault of another. That was the aspect that angered you the most, at least it used to be. At this point you felt like you got consumed by the wild waves of reality, slowly going down and drowning beneath all this hardship.

Footsteps emerged from outside the door. Can you even call it a door? It was made out of metal with endless chains and locks, all for the sake of killing your hopes. You knew those steps all too well, that it has become a skill now. The ability to tell who it was by their walking habits. Without moving an ounce from the bed, your eyes rolled over to the side, eyeing the only exit of the room with a neutral gaze. Sounds of locks and metal reached your ears, a stimulation you haven’t experienced for a while now. It was awfully silent here.

After a while, the reason for the sounds showed themselves. The tall, black haired male walked inside, carefully closing and locking the room again. Twisted feelings swam to the surface like always, yet the negative ones were starting to subside. You didn’t care to look at him any further, turning away from him and staring at the wall. He didn’t deserve any kindness and attention from you, only bitterness. “I’m back.” That person said, like always. Voice deep and masking a soft, caring side. He got closer to you, you knew it from how his steps got louder and louder. Then you heard some noises again, before he whispered enthusiastically, “I so glad to see you, lucifer Hyung.”

How was it possible for him to mistake you as someone totally unrelated to you? Was he simply a hypocrite, or was he hallucinating? Something about you reminded him of that certain someone, and you didn’t know what. If only you could get rid of that trait, to finally free yourself. Though then the question remains; would he really let you live after finding out all of this was in his head? You didn’t want to be cruelly murdered by a being like him. An arrogant, insufferable and selfish being like that man in front of you, who loves to call himself a higher being, but bows his head to you whenever he can. Even now he was kneeling on the floor, just right next to the bed. Hands kept to himself as he stared at you with a dreamy gaze.

Those eyes of his were repulsive. The way he looked at you made your stomach curl, as if you got a stomach ache. It wasn’t a good feeling, you felt like vomiting every time. All this disaster was like fate playing cruel games with you, as if it wasn’t playing with you enough. At first you tried to escape or talk back, now you were starting to simply accept it. For how long have you done this? Right, you don’t know. Even though Michael was just inches away from you, you didn’t do anything. Not that you didn’t want to, lord, you wanted to punch him and suffocate him so bad, but that wouldn’t help your situation. The door couldn’t be opened except by the seraphs, a special spell which would be impossible to break. Killing him would only mean your own death all due to starvation.

You also remembered how you tried to reason with him, telling him you weren’t his dear ‘hyung’. Nothing was getting into his thick skull though. Ordering him around, trying to use it to your advantage was also out of the question, since he didn’t trust you one bit. Whenever you attempted that, he’d mumble, “I can’t let you leave again..!” If you weren’t before, at least now you were convinced he was mentally ill, a war murder with a broken mind. Every day went by the same, boredom gnawed away at your own sanity. Were you ever going to get out of here, and what will you be like once you do? Only time could tell. You didn’t even have to will to wish for a good outcome anymore.

Repressed hatred slowly build within you again, swallowing you whole. You thought you had gotten used to it by now, though you were wrong. This simply wasn’t something you can get used to, all you can do is build up a resistance and become numb to it. Eventually you turned around, sitting up a little on the soft and luxurious bed. The treatment you got was by no means bad. A room fit for royalty with the best foods ever, alongside other stuff. You didn’t have to do anything, no chores or work. One might thing this lifestyle was desirable, and it was at first. Expect by now it has become another void within your heart. Without a goal or dream, it didn’t feel like living anymore, only simply existing.

Despite the tension in the room, you finally returned his eager gaze. A blush spreading across his features as soon as he noticed your stare. His silky black hair was everywhere, eyes bearing never ending love and affection within them. Adoration you never asked for. The despicable clenching feeling returned, air becoming suffocating. You furrowed your brows, fighting the urge to scream and yell. All this cruel pain as well as laughable desperation led to pend up negative feelings your brain couldn’t process. Instead it turned all that into sexual tension and energy. Every time you’d do that you felt more disgusted with yourself, but there was no helping it considering your current situation. It was your means of escaping reality, even if it was ruining you in the long term.

You opened your mouth, about to give that angel a command. As soon as he noticed your intentions, he stopped breathing, trying to stay as quiet as possible to listen to you earnestly. If anyone were to make a single sound now, consider them dead afterwards. With a bitter yet lust ridden tone, you told him, “come here”, while you patted the bed. It was rare for you to talk to him and if you did, it’d only be short sentences. He gulped, staring at you with curiosity while he obeyed your request. Now he sat on the edge of the bed. That only lasted for a few seconds before you grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer to you. A sudden yelp escaped his throat, and he tried his best to not touch or hurt you.

He was on all fourth now, while hovering over you. A confused and flustered expression becoming visible. The way you looked at him became sharper and more aggressive, you could almost call it a glare. “I apologise, please, I lost my balance.” Michael said with a slightly nervous tone, even though it was obviously your fault he fell. Instead of answering him, you hinted at your lap. He caught on pretty quickly and sat down with a bashful smile, straddling your legs.

His lips were rosy, smiling at you so sweetly like an innocent angel. The way his cheeks have also become rosy and red, matching his lips, was very adorable. That silky black hair of his was fluttering gently, alongside the wing poking out from his neck. He was such a beautiful and perfect being, that it irked you. There were no hard feelings, only dryness and the simple desire for entertainment filling you. You stared at his body, treating him like he was merely an object of pleasure. This was all you could do while being on such a detestable stage, forced to play in an act you loathed. A moment of silence passed, awkwardness replaced the boldness you felt earlier. Then you said in a belittling manner, “you are unbelievable.”

How his face turned into one of horror, saddened by the fact that he displeased you. “I’m sorry…what should I do to make up!?” Terror played his voice. Even this annoyed you. His attitude was getting under your skin, like an insect crawling around your organs. Aside from that weird dynamic and obsession he has over his brother, how he made it seem like you were the one trapping him made your blood boil. Instead of answering him, you just averted your gaze. Talking to a nutcase like him wouldn’t raise your mood. Maybe you should kick him out soon. His company wasn’t wanted after all.

When your eyes met his again, his body tensed and he gasped. Pupils shrinking slightly and hands clenching his own shirt tighter. The desire to puke returned as soon as you noticed what was going on down there, alongside a weird feeling of fascination. You were irritated with your own emotions, and what in the world your brain was doing, as if it wasn’t working properly. Despite him getting a hard on in such an unfitting situation, you encouraged him to take care of it, saying, “go on, put on a show for me to see.” Shouldn’t you have felt grossed out by him? So why didn’t you? Maybe because this wasn’t the first time? Despite everything you were the one who got him out of his cage, never would you have guessed he’d repay you by locking you up in a cage too.

An almost inaudible whine left him upon hearing your voice again. It took him another minute to register what you told him, before the blush across his features darkened by a few shades. Michale nodded, quickly unzipping his pants and freeing his erect dick. His hands trembled slightly while he did that, a sign of his nervousness and shyness. You almost chuckled at that, a bitter laugh to remind you of this new life you received. If you were to ever meet god, you were going to return all this suffering tenfolds.

Your eyes stuck to his crotch, watching him with a tired gaze. The angel apologised a few times more, uttering the words, “I’m sorry.. I’ll take care of it, Hyung,” as his hand creeped around his shaft, hesitantly pumping his cock. He was too embarrassed to look at you, yet he was too aroused to stop, so he stared at his hands. One glance was all you needed to tell he doesn’t do this often, due to how his movements were so inexperienced. His other hand was bawled into a fist, then it moved up his torso and started to grope his own breasts. Pinching and toying with his pink nipples. “Uh..uhm-..!” Small whimpers could be heard from him, muffled by himself.

Despite his inexperience, it seems like he was feeling good. Exposing himself in front of someone, touching himself inappropriately. His dick was twitching in his hands, precum dripping down and accumulating. “Ahhh..! NgHhh..” more moans erupted from him. You watched as his eyes became foggy with lust, facial expression melting into one of bliss. Squelching sounds filled the room, and he threw his head back. Shoulders raised to his ears while a thin layer of sweat covered his skin. Not to mention how he shook and trembled, panting as if he just ran a marathon.

His hand was dirties by his own fluids, still jerking himself off without a rhythm or tact. Some of it even got onto you. Before you even noticed it, he apologised for that, “sorry… lucifer Hyung, for being filthy…haaaah..” You doubted he was being sincere, judging by how happy he looked. A face full of ecstasy and bliss, undeniably pleasure coursing through his veins while he did shameful things under your watching gaze. “Ah.. please, brother, watch me more..! mhHhmm..- I’m so close.” Now the was just spitting nonsense. The name he called you by made you uncomfortable, though the show he put on was quite enjoyable. Especially because he looked just the right amount of pathetic for you to be amused.

Michael squinted his eyes, lips parted while lewd moans left him. He has never done anything like this, so all those new sensations were a first for him. Tingles filled his stomach, and a strange satisfaction and calmness washed over him. Tears dropping down his face from both eyes, his wings flapped occasionally too. The expression he saw behind your pupils was still one of nonchalant and pity, the same as what he remembered in a faraway memory. Hands speeding up subconsciously, voice getting louder too. The thought that someone might hear him never crossed his mind. Why should he think about anything else when you, his beloved Hyung was right here?

“Haa..ha, ah-nghh, mhmm..!!” Short and erratic gasps left him, paired with groans that bounced off the walls of your cage. “Pleaaasee…I-i want to cum..” A slight stutter slipped itself into his sentence while he wore a mindless expression. As if not a single thought plagued his brain, losing himself in all those feelings his nerves send to his brain. His heart pound like crazy, a testament to the pleasure he felt. Like a mad lad who lost any grip on reality, he repeated words of apologies. Pleading with you and begging while his release hit him, rendering him to a mess beyond recognition. The despair and desperation made you feel like you had power over him, offering a moment of comfort to you.

“I’m sorry.. ah-aAAHhh..! Please,- oh, please.” Michael whispered once more. White liquid spurt out from him, most of it landing on your belly. It’d be a lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it a little, though you were still disappointed and disgusted by all of this. Especially now that reality hit you right in the gut, with how his semen was all over your tummy and making contact with your skin. You pulled a grimace, eyeing him up like he was a filthy animal, most of the time you did believe he was. He clung his dress shirt with all his might, slowly getting down from his high, before he slumped down and hugged you. This sudden boldness and act of intimacy from him made you freeze, muscles tensing up. He crashed down on top of you, arms holding you tightly while he continued to pant loudly.

Still crying, and barely able to breathe steadily, the angel said, “I’m.. haaa.. so happy you are here with me, brother lucifer. Stay with me, forever.” He wasn’t asking, he wasn’t begging. It was a statement. A confirmation that this will become your cruel reality for god knows when eternity will end. Sorrow replaced the previous mixed emotions, and a deep sense of resentment filled your heart while you laid there, staring at him with a growing emptiness residing within you.

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, jealousy, accusations, soft fluff, lil smutty, reader has hair long enough to tie up, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: oohhh big changes! we are TALKING! with our MOUTHS! what a time. This is the last part of flatmate!Joe - for real this time. I truly hope you've enjoyed what is still my most plotless (imo) bit of writing, lmk your thoughts <3

Wordcount: 4.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

There was something living inside of your chest.

It was only small, but definitely there. Soft. Vulnerable. Silently shrinking. It had gotten hurt and was wearing its bruises on the outside. When it got poked, you could feel the shooting pains as it curled in on itself more. It would find the safest spots to squeeze its eyes shut and you’d mentally tell it, it’s okay. You’re okay.

It wasn’t okay.

Maybe therapy wasn’t an insane suggestion, anymore, at this point. You felt like you were protecting a child to the point where you couldn’t let it see the light of day. Couldn’t let it go outside and play. Couldn’t let it have friends – let it meet Joe. Couldn’t let it experience anything joyful, because if you did, it’d probably experience more hurt too.

But it was hurting anyway.

And now it was only pain it got to feel. Never joy. Just bruises and cuts. Scrapes that slowly formed thick drops of blood that hardened into scabs which pulled at your skin and eventually turned into scars.

You wished you’d known that before you locked it up inside.

There was something living inside of your chest, and it carefully wished it could speak up and be heard.

When you’d walked out of your bedroom and into the living room, a surprised Josh raised his eyebrows at you. He was leaning back into the sofa and had an acoustic guitar in his lap that he was absentmindedly playing whilst he was watching TV on a low volume. The guitar playing stopped when he saw you and didn’t pick back up as he watched you walk over, pillow in hand, facial expression drained.

“Hey, what’s up?” the guitar got moved onto the floor.

You didn’t answer when you put your pillow down on the opposite end of the sofa and took the blanket you’d slept under before. You curled up, ignored Josh who tried to ask if you were okay a couple of times as you stared at the TV. He asked if you wanted to talk about it. Said you probably should talk about it if you didn’t want Josh to think about this all night.

“It’s going to keep me up if I don’t know if you’re okay.”

You ignored it all, didn’t give a shit if Josh was going to get a good night’s sleep, and eventually turned over and faced the back of the sofa. It sent the message it needed to. It took just another moment before Josh turned off the TV, and then the lights as he left you alone.

This was stupid.

But you were stubborn.

You were stubborn and were going to go to sleep on your sofa, even though you were the one that lived here, and maybe Joe should be the one to sleep on the sofa.

Or actually, he could go home. To his own flat. Where all things were his, and the only things that felt like they were yours were the plants you’d brought in and the toothbrush you’d left by his sink.

Yea.

Joe could just leave.

You didn’t care that he was still paying rent.

 But you didn’t actually get up to go and tell him that. Of course not. You just wallowed in thought. In all the would-dos and would-says. Shivered because this new stupid blanket Josh got wasn’t thick enough to keep you warm throughout the night.

You made yourself cry inside of that soup of goopy misery. Felt what lived inside of your chest as it drowned and mentally apologised to it when, after three hours of not being able to actually go to sleep, after three hours of anger that turned into fragile neediness, you decided to get up and make your way back.

Find Joe.

Because, and fuck him for this, Joe always knew how to fucking fix it.

And there was something so silly about walking down the hallway of your flat with tears staining your cheeks to sneak into Joe’s old bedroom. To find Joe inside of the bed there, the lay-out of the room still the same. Joe’s side of the bed still the same.

The click of the door closing made Joe lift his head up in an attempt to see into the dark.

He hadn’t expected you at all, so for a second, he thought that maybe you’d just walked in to get something. Your phone. Or your charger. But then you walked around to your side of the bed and got under the covers. It was too dark to see your face, but you found Joe’s warm body and snuggled up. Pressed your forehead to his jaw and hummed through a sigh and Joe didn’t need to see your face to hug you closer. Didn’t need to see if you’d been crying to wrap arms around, and to tangle legs, and to press a small kiss into your hair.

You wiggled as you settled and sighed as you sunk deeper into the mattress. You could deal with the disappointment within yourself in the morning.

“I’m sorry.” Joe whispered into the dark, and you decided you could also deal with your disappointment in Joe in the morning, so you softly whined and said, “Pause.”

“Pause?”

“Mhm.”

Everything could just be paused. Postponed. Just for a few hours. You just needed to get some sleep.

Joe wasn’t in a position to not accept that. His heart felt full with the nostalgia he unexpectedly found with you sneaking into this room in order to get some sleep. It used to be like this. He was in the same location. In the exact same spot. Just, everything was yours now.

Me too, Joe thought.

Everything was yours now, including Joe. Whether you wanted him or not.

He squeezed you tighter and saw that you got to sleep. Traced finger tips across skin that warmed under the covers, and tickled into your hair by the nape of your neck, and he could feel how you were drifting off and, fuck off, he was yours.

He’d tell you in the morning.

Joe was going to tell you in the morning.

He would.

When Joe woke up, you were gone.

Fucking figures, Joe thought.

The private moment of waking up together that would’ve granted him the security and comfortability to say whatever needed saying was gone now.

Joe rubbed both hands over his face and scolded himself for not waking up as you had gotten out.

But it was fine.

There’d be another moment for it, he’d make sure.

Venturing out of your bedroom, you weren’t in the bathroom. Nor in the living area. He did, however, find Josh in the kitchen.

After awkward but polite good mornings shared, there was some uncomfortable shuffling around. Joe had made breakfast thousands of times in this kitchen, and he was already reaching to open the fridge when he realised that, actually, that was a weird thing to do. He no longer lived there. He couldn’t just go into cupboards and find the food that he knew was there – he knew exactly where the oatmeal went. He knew exactly where to find the cinnamon to sprinkle on top. How the coffee machine worked. Which cupboard to open to find the mugs.

Joe opted to busy himself making a coffee first. The machine was right there on the counter – less weird to reach for it and prepare himself a morning brew.

And Josh was cool about it. Opened a cupboard for him to fetch him a mug. It was a bit of an awkward dance, but a friendly one, tight smiles shared as Josh prepared his own breakfast.

It wasn’t until the loud noise of coffee beans being ground up that Joe decided to just… ask.

Might as well act like last night actually happened.

“Sorry about last night, mate,”

“Oh yea, no worries, I didn’t…” Josh frowned and shook his head as he scraped some butter onto his toast. He didn’t finish his sentence. Didn’t need to. Took a bite before buttering the second piece.

“Have you seen her?” Joe tried sounding as casual as he could, but failed miserably.

It was as honest and vulnerable of a question he was ever going to ask Josh. It revealed he had no idea where the fuck you’d gone, which in and of itself revealed that there was probably a reason you hadn’t told him.

But Josh was relaxed about it.

“Yea. Morning run. You just missed her, I think.”

And it took all within Joe to pretend that didn’t surprise him as much as it did. He just nodded. Pretended like that was a normal thing to hear about. Morning run. Sure. Miss be-useful-first-thing, what the fuck? When had you picked up that habit?

The coffee machine stopped whirring, and Joe took his coffee. Went for a sip immediately and instantly burnt his tongue. Rookie move.

“Is um… is everything okay? I don’t want to pry, but,” Josh asked as Joe moved around the island to sit down.

“Ah, well… you know,”

No, actually, Josh didn’t know.

Which was good.

Joe didn’t really want him to know.

Joe didn’t really want to explain.

Couldn’t really explain.

Where the fuck would he even begin?

“Hmm, yea,” Josh accepted the non-answer easily. “She seemed upset, but wouldn’t really say anything.”

Joe had to suppress a smile.

Of course you hadn’t fucking said anything.

“I asked like fifty times if she was okay, but she… I don’t know, she fully ignored me I guess. Kind of went catatonic on me a little.”

Joe drank his coffee and nodded.

“To be fair though,” Josh made big eyes at himself, “I was being really fucking annoying. I would’ve rolled over and ignored me too, I think.”

Both men let huffs of air escape them in silent laughter.

Then a moment of silence followed where Joe drank his coffee and Josh ate his toast. Joe realised he didn’t like how Josh knew things about you that he didn’t, but the upside was that it was incredibly useful, actually.

Josh talked where you... well, you did not.

“Did she cry?”

He wanted to know.

“No, she just… watched TV for a bit. I don’t know, she seemed tired so I went to bed shortly after to make sure she could get some sleep.”

That meant that, if you’d cried, you had waited for Josh to leave the room. Joe didn’t know if that was a comforting thought or not.

It didn’t take much longer for Josh to finish his toast and to casually suggest for Joe to make his own breakfast. Mentioned that everything on the bottom shelves of the fridge was yours before he walked out, and this morning was just full of surprises.

You split the fridge?!

What kind of sensible flatmate behaviour was this?!

When it was you and Joe, your stuff would just be thrown in wherever. None of it sorted. Joe would end up having your oatmilk in his coffee and you’d end up using his cheese in your omelettes.

Actually, he remembered how this had been the source of bickering for more than once. More than a couple of times. You would fall out over Joe having your food all the time, if he really thought about it. But it was always playful. Always something fun about it. A reason to swear at him until you made yourself laugh, and a reason for him to shut you up with poking fingers in your sides. The back and forth had never prompted you to split the fridge.

Had you and Joe ever been normal flatmates?

Probably not, he guessed.

Joe decided against breakfast in the end and just finished his coffee. Waited until you got back from your morning run, which he still had a hard time wrapping his head around, and when he eventually heard the front door open, he got up to make you a drink.

You knew Joe was still there by his coat that was hung up by the front door.

Fine.

Fine.

It was fine.

You were sweaty and sticky and hot and you could feel your heartbeat in your face, but it was fine.

Walking into the kitchen, you were welcomed by Joe in jeans and a T-shirt, bare feet, hair stupid, already holding out a glass of juice for you.

You took it and refrained from talking as you had a sip. Looked at him over the glass though, and you hoped that what Joe would see was determination. Strength. That he saw someone who wasn’t going to take bullshit, because you weren’t.

You’d just gone for your very first morning run for fuck’s sake.

For a moment Joe just looked right back at you. Watched you have the drink he poured for you. You had bits of hair stuck to your flushed neck and had to breathe through flared nostrils. It was wildly attractive, if you asked him.

“Morning run?”

You caught a small smirk from Joe that you turned away from. Couldn’t look at him be cute when you were supposed to be mad at him still.

Then, in a rogue move, Joe opened the freezer and took a single look inside to find a frozen pizza he took out and tossed onto the counter.

That was meant to mean something.

You gave it a blank stare as Joe looked at you and you sighed.

“Hey,” Joe tried getting your attention back on him, but instead, you put the glass down and turned around. Walked out. Went to your bedroom.

Joe followed.

“Hey,” Joe tried again, stood in your doorway, watching you collect an outfit. “Talk to me.”

It went ignored.

This was the worst part of not having an ensuite; having to take just enough clothes into the bathroom to change in there. You and Josh weren’t exactly on a just-a-towel level yet. Bathrobe felt scandalous too, somehow, even for the five steps it took to get from your bedroom into the bathroom.

Josh could see you in clothes or not see you at all.

Joe easily moved aside when you walked past him, out of your room, and you looked at him as you did.

“Come on. Tell me what you’re thinking.” Joe tried again.

It didn’t feel like you were fully ignoring him, but you weren’t answering him either.

You were thinking Joe was being an idiot.

You were trying, had been trying really hard to meet him where he wanted to be met, and then he just went and let you know he didn’t trust… you? Your flatmate? The situation he’d created with his own two hands?

Felt unfair.

You didn’t say any of that though. Just walked into the bathroom, and then left the door open.

Joe would get the hint, you thought.

He did, but only when you started peeling off your sweat-soaked top with the door wide open, still.

Joe moved quick. Sort of scrambled to get into the bathroom, to lock the door behind him, and then to help you get your top over your head as you struggled with the damp fabric around your shoulders.

You undressed, and Joe helped, and you made eye-contact the whole time.

You could see how he was searching. Trying to find whatever you weren’t saying in your eyes, his chin tucked in, his eyes pleading, all soft and rounded.

Joe tried.

He really tried.

You were getting naked right in front of him, body flushed and glistening with sweat and he got a good look as you stretched your body over the bath to turn the shower on and then you kept staring right at him as you removed more clothes and you were doing something with your eyes and Jesus fucking Christ, Joe was trying.

Trying to not grab you by the shoulders and give you a good shake.

Trying not to let his eyes skirt downward because you’d just removed your sports bra and, oof, man, that was a lot of skin on show.

Joe was trying not to hold you by the face and trying not to get real close and trying not to whisper words into your mouth in hopes of coaxing out some of your own. Which… he failed. Because he did get your face into both his hands just after you’d reached up to untie your hair. He did get real close. And he did ask you once more to just talk to him, please.

You handled the close eye-contact fine.

Handled the cupping of your face fine.

And Joe couldn’t stop searching your face.

Was there truly no budging?

Was this… was this it?

Had he just gone and fucked it all up for himself? Had the big plan behind his move imploded because he couldn’t deal with the fact that you were now… no longer in his flat with him? Joe’s mind tried to make sense of it, but all he could really come up with, was that you probably didn’t even consider the two of you to be together.

You’d never talked about that.

Had never mentioned it.

Hadn’t labeled it.

You were just close flatmates that weren��t actually flatmates anymore, and… and now what?

He just wanted you to talk.

You were just in your underwear now, stood in a small bathroom and Joe ticked off all boxes in his mind: you were alone, check. You were close, check. You were in your safe space, check.

The shower was hot now, slowly filling the room with warm steam and, fuck, if you would just fucking talk.

Joe was about to repeat himself. Was about to say it again. But then he saw it.

Something changed.

Your eyes softened and your mouth tightened as you tried to keep your lips wobbling. As you tried to not let what was living inside of your chest get out. When you started blinking more rapidly as your eyes stung with tears, you also began avoiding eye-contact and, good. This was good. Joe let you go then, and watched as you got out of your last piece of clothing before you stepped into the shower.

You left the shower curtain open, and Joe thought he’d never undressed quite so fast.

You’d never shared a shower before.

Something about it felt really momentous, but you didn’t have the opportunity to think about it for too long. The thought vanished just as quickly as it had crossed your mind, because when Joe stepped into the bath behind you and held you by the shoulders before curling his arms around to hold you close, you decided that, actually, you were going to talk.

“You left,” you started, voice far thinner than you wanted it to be.

“I know.”

“You left and you’re making me feel bad about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair. It’s not my fault you moved out,” you reached up to hold onto Joe’s arm across your front and you felt how your eyebrows knitted together when you softly followed with, “Is it?”

And, fuck.

Something snapped into Joe’s chest.

Something swelled and popped.

He didn’t know what that was, all he knew was that it hurt.

“No!” Joe tightened his arms before he let you go enough to turn around. “No, baby, of course not, is that– do you think I left because of you?”  

You looked at each other, and for a moment, Joe didn’t know if he was looking at shower water or tears that were running down your face.

You gave a small shrug before Joe lifted his hands to your face to wipe at your cheeks. If they were tears, they had no business being there, so he needed them gone.

“I didn’t leave this place because of you. Hey,” you avoided eye-contact, so he grabbed hold of you by the face again where both your of your hands found his wrists. “Look at me. Look– I did not move out because of you, all right?”

Well, he did… but, it was nuanced. He moved out for the both of you. He had to be careful. He couldn’t say the wrong thing and ruin what already felt ruined enough.

You gave a tiny nod that he could feel more than he could see, and you looked so fucking sad, Joe couldn’t help but move in to try and kiss some of it from your face.

He hoped you believed him.

You were naked in a shower together, of which Joe was getting none of the stream, and you were trembling because of things Joe had said and done and all he could think to do was hold you.

So he did.

It was a terrible waste of water, but it felt so incredibly necessary for him to not pull back until you did. Let you take the lead. Curl an arm around your head, the other around your waist, and follow your pace.

Joe felt how you were trying to control your breathing, and, you were right. He wasn’t allowed to be the cause.

He was the reason why you were feeling the way you were feeling and he realised he had been, for a while, probably.

Joe pushed you.

Joe had been pushing you.

He shouldn’t have.

He shouldn’t have left and he shouldn’t have tried with all his might to keep you as close to him as you had been before and he shouldn’t have taken his jealousy out on you and he shouldn’t have repeatedly asked you to talk to him because look! Look what all of it had lead to?

Your lead.

Your time.

Your pace.

No more making you meet him halfway.

Joe was going to wait for you.

He would.

It didn’t fucking matter how long it was going to take you, or if you’d even get there at all. He was going to wait. If that meant actually befriending Josh like a normal person, then he was just going to have to befriend Josh like a normal person.

Joe held you close until your finger tips stopped digging into his skin so much, and then he softly said, “I’ll wait.”

That made you look up at him.

“I’ll wait for you. I can be patient.”

And, you frowned. Because what the fuck was Joe talking about.

“But…” you started, and you felt it then. You could feel whatever was inside of your chest collect every little speck of bravery it could find within your body. It pulled it from the muscles in your legs and from the bones in your arms. Found some hidden inside the beating of your heart and then some more in the humid shower air inside your lungs. And then, it said it.

“I’m right here.”

Joe blinked at you. Didn’t get it.

“I’m right– Joe, what do you mean, you’ll wait. Have we not been– is this not what we’ve been…” you furrowed your brow at how words seemed to escape you. All bravery gone.

Joe saw.

Heard what you were saying and, before you even fucking knew what was happening, Joe had both his arms around your waist and lifted you up, effectively pressing his face right into your tits as he scared the living daylights out of you because you were in the bath.

“Joe–” you shrieked, but were quickly shut up by his mouth that pressed to yours before your feet had even properly touched down again.

“I love you.” Joe squeezed it from his own mouth right into yours. Barely got the words out normal as he didn’t want to stop kissing. Didn’t want to break contact, lips and hands doing the most.

“Joe,” you laughed, giving his shoulders a light push before you felt something against your hip, and– oh.

“No, I’m sorry. Ignore that. I love you. Did you hear me? I love you. I said I love–”

“I love you too.”

Joe froze before he groaned with both eyes squeezed shut, and you looked down to see how hard that had made him.

“I love you too,” you repeated yourself and saw it jump, leaking already, and Jesus, that was quick. This was a fun game actually. Talking suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

“Hey, I love you. Did you hear me? I said I lovemmpf–” Joe got a hand over your mouth just for the sheer agony of what it was doing to him.

You took your shot and bit right into his fingers.

“Stop it, you’ve got to– you can’t–”

And, yea, you could actually. You shut Joe up with kisses of your own this time.

You were sharing your first shower together, and it felt sort of momentous.

It felt momentous because you’d shared words that had been stuck in the back of your throat for a while now.

It felt momentous because Joe just told you that he loved you.

It felt momentous because you said it right back and everything about it felt right.

It felt momentous because you were going to have loud shower sex and Josh was likely going to hear you and you actually didn’t care about it. You cared more about the pizza that was slowly defrosting on the kitchen counter which actually sounded like the perfect breakfast food, if you were being honest.

You and Joe were just flatmates, but not.

Were just close, but more.

Were in love. Had said the words now, for the other to hear with their ears, and wasn’t that a shocking turn of events after last night?

Joe couldn’t explain it if he tried.

Didn’t really want to either.

As long as you knew. As long as you understood.

And you did. The proof was in the pudding.

Something felt alive in Joe’s chest. And in yours too.

Maybe someday, they could meet.

Have a chat.

Talk things through.

Or not.

They could also just look at each other. Sit on the sofa. Curl into each other and eat pizza. Watch the first ten minutes of films before they’d doze off together. Make fun of plants that got overwatered in a desperate attempt to keep them alive because they were buddies with yours and Joe could never be responsible for the death of plants that had friends, were you joking?

They’d call you idiots.

And, yea you were.

But it was fine.

You were just close. In love. Together. And that didn’t need explaining. As long as you knew and understood, that was all that mattered.

You were all that mattered.

Your lead.

Your time.

Your pace.

Your love.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

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taglist currently full, sorry

[lalacliffthorne]

okay, so, I kinda hadn't planned on doing this; I hadn't even thought about it - whoops 🙈 there was literally just a before and after Azriel and Reader started dating in my head lol

but since so many of you asked and since it would be criminal not to - let's think about it ;)

the one where they stop being idiots 💞

okay, so I see a few ways of how this could go

let's look at two

as hinted in all the before-drabbles --

there have been moments

like

moments

like when either of you stares at the other for too long

or lingers in a hug

or the two of you are somehow always near each other

you get the gist

so we got all those lil moments

piling up, until technically, even an idiot should see that you really like Azriel

and that Azriel -

well, is down very, very bad

which, of course, means you have no clue

okay, so you kinda do

it's hard to ignore the tingling feeling in your belly

and that rising feeling in your chest whenever Azriel just looks at you

but you're very good at pushing that away

bc -

it's not that serious, right?

and even if you catch Azriel staring at you and he never looks away, just gets that twinkle in his eyes

and he always seems to linger a little too long when he's close, helping you with your jacket or brushing away a lash stuck on your cheek

and his gaze flickers down to what you swear is your lips -

there's really no way he actually likes you like that.

let alone feels his breath hitch every time you're close or gets that plummeting feeling in his chest when you as much as brush him

and even if there's some kind of attraction

there's no way that he has fallen for you just the same way you have quietly, creepingly and incredibly hard - fallen for him

...

yeah

since you are friends and living with a bunch of busy bodies

it doesn't take too long until at least one of them gets tired of watching the two of you be, frankly, idiots

maybe it's Rhys

over his not-so-subtle-hints and mischievous smirks, just turning towards you one evening in the kitchen

"alright, love - please tell me you're actually clueless and simply don't see that Az is down ridiculously bad for you?"

or maybe it's Mor

accidentally, literally blurting it out at brunch

something along the lines of "oh, yeah; of course he remembered, he remembers everything, plus he's completely in love with you, so -"

before growing still and becoming more wide-eyed than you have ever seen her

or maybe it's Cassian

after one drink too many, throwing an arm over your shoulder and raising his brows as he rumbles: "look, sweets, I love you. but if I have to watch Az stare longingly at you for another day, I'll lock the two of you in the pantry until you confess that you're completely in love with each other and make out. so, please, put the man out of his misery."

let's face it

it's probably all of them

bc they're just so over seeing Az pine after you and you pine after Az

and if you two would just talk about this -

anyway

you could've waved off one of them with a weak giggle and a "you're seeing things"

but three of your best friends -

who all know Azriel better than anyone else does -

two actually around both of you on a daily basis -

yeah, that's kinda hard to ignore

so suddenly, you start to notice everything

like everything

which makes your heart go into absolute overdrive whenever Azriel just looks at you

suddenly, you can't help but notice every little detail of him

and how he's acting around you

and how he's just insanely, annoyingly beautiful

and it does very strange things to your sanity

because suddenly, there's this tiny little voice in the back of your head that's whispering what if

and bc you can't be around Azriel without feeling heat wash into your cheeks and your breath becoming shaky and heart tumbling -

it's a bit of a mess.

and you really should say something

because it's getting increasingly, ridiculously difficult to keep yourself from leaning up and kissing him whenever he stares at you for too long, that half-crease in his cheek -

but you chicken out every time

and you kinda have a reason for that!

bc you love these boys

and what if something goes wrong and the others are wrong after all and you are wrong and he doesn't actually like you

bc then you would mess things up and you can't risk that and -

yeah

it really is a bit of a mess

well, until

that fateful almost-kiss

(pls don't kill me for the edging)

you're pretty sure it was an almost-kiss

like, 80 %

you turn it over enough in your head to be mostly sure Azriel wasn't just - about to wipe cake of your cheek or smth

just like you turn over the rest of the night you spent in your room with him

curled up on your bed, watching movies

ending with you falling asleep with your head on his chest

bc again

you're about 80 % sure you caught him staring at your lips at least twice

which means -

now

you are really screwed.

bc damn that thing messes with your head

I mean sure

the whole does he feel that tingling attraction too or am I seeing things-problem sorta went out of the window

but still

what if it was just a moment-thing?

or if maybe he doesn't like like you and it's all just physical attraction?

what if it isn't but it still doesn't work out bc at some point Azriel realises that you are actually not chill like he is and instead a lil ball of nerves and quirks??

what.

if.

you're basically quietly stewing in your own thoughts that are slowly getting out of control

and you just get more and more panicked, spinning in circles

until -

you lose it

it's probably a moment when the two of you are alone

maybe you're in the kitchen, responsible for making dinner for a change

and the silence is, at least for you, for once not calm like it always is with Azriel

instead, it feels like the air is buzzing and your heart does weird maneuvers and everytime you just get into close vicinity to Az, you feel like you're about to burst

and somewhere between chopping vegetables and putting cuttlery onto the table

you suddenly end up crowded against the counter

with Azriel towering over you, impossibly close

and he stills when he realises, in the middle of taking plates out of the cabinet, his eyes piercing yours

and your heart is racing because you can feel him

and because it feels like his gaze is pinning you to the spot

and because he's so close

and maybe Az sees something in the way you're staring up at him, wide-eyed and panicked

maybe he even feels the way your breath suddenly flutters

or how your heart is pounding painfully against your ribs

but Azriel slowly, carefully puts down the plate in his hand, placing it on the counter behind you

not once looking away

and then his lips curve a little and you're pretty sure the world lurches at the sight

it always feels like just looking at him causes a knife to twist under your ribs because he's just so damn beautiful

but right now, he looks fucking heavenly

the warm kitchen lights throwing shadows under his jaw, making his cheekbones look even sharper

that barely there crease in his cheek as his gaze slowly drag over your face

and he's tall and all broad shoulders and piercing eyes

and he looks at you the way he did before the almost-kiss

and suddenly

you just cannot keep it in any longer

"So, Mor said you're in love with me?"

The second you blurt out the words, you feel your eyes widen.

Well shit.

Azriel blinks, his lips parting; like maybe, for once, he has not forseen this turn of events.

You wouldn't blame him. You're currently wondering whether looking at him for too long has made your brain short-circuit.

"I mean -" You stare up at him, heat rising into your cheeks while your heart is pounding against your ribs. "I - okay, I didn't mean to say that, I, uhm, I just - thought about that thing that happened the other day; well, almost happened, and uh -" Your voice is actually shaking a bit now and sounds a little like you're about to faint, and that's not that far off, because shit -

"l mean, uhm -" Your throat finally gives up like it has decided to shut you up before you can make things worse.

And that's when you realise Azriel is still staring at you.

Only suddenly his iris looks like molten gold, and his gaze is a little feverish as it darts over your face, deep and heated and like he's trying to drink you in as his lips slowly curve upwards.

"Remind me to get her back for this."

His deep voice sends tingles down your spine, because you have never heard it this low and hoarse before, and it takes you a moment until the meaning of the mumbled words reaches you.

Your lips part, and suddenly, your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest.

"Get her back for what?" Your whisper is so breathless, you almost swallow it.

There are creases in Azriel's cheek that make your knees feel like jello as he stares down at you, something feverish and heated in his eyes when he mumbles hoarsely: "For telling you before I could."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart does one huge jump. Then it stills.

"What?" Your voice sounds so breathy, you're not sure Azriel even heard it, at least until scarred fingers slip under your chin, a thumb softly brushing over your cheek as his eyes narrow a little, the crease in his cheek deepening.

"You think I was this close to kissing your just for shits and giggles?" Azriel would sound dry if there wasn't that slight edge to his hoarse voice, if his eyes weren't flickering over your face feverishly and carefully, almost anxiously. You think you can feel his breath hitch and stutter when your nose almost brushes his, and suddenly you realise he's gotten really close, close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips and his scent making your head swim.

"No?", you somehow manage to whisper, your voice almost breaking.

Azriel makes a noise at the back of his throat, deep and a little desperate; his nose nudges yours, and as a shiver runs up your spine and your breath stills in your throat, he mumbles "No." and dips his head to kiss you.

And you're pretty sure the world just stops.

Becomes so quiet you can hear your heart rising in a wild flutter, the way your breath shudders as you exhale in slow motion, and the quiet sound Azriel makes deep in his chest as his hands slide to the back of your neck.

And then he's kissing you. And his lips are warm and soft and pressing onto yours more feverishly with the second, and your hands rise to slide up his waist, hold onto him, and suddenly, you're not even close to being close enough.

Your legs are shaking when you move, push closer, until your chest is pressing into Azriel's, and he makes another soft noise before slipping his fingers into your hair; his body moving yours backwards until he's crowding you against the counter and you feel the cabinets press against your legs. Then Azriel deepens the kiss, his lips parting yours, and suddenly, you feel like starlight.

and with that

pretty much every question just vanishes.

erased by the way Azriel is kissing you, deep and feverish and desperate, like you're oxygen and he's been underwater for years

dinner's completely forgotten as you move through the kitchen, hips bumping against the counters and the table until you end up on the couch

Azriel's hands gripping your waist as you straddle him, your fingers buried in his hair as your bodies mold into each other and Az begins to figure out the 100 different ways to kiss you

and somewhere in the back of your brain

the part that isn't completely consumed by the way his chest is pressing into yours and scent is filling your lungs and body melts into yours

you wonder how a)

you ever made it without kissing him

without feeling his warm skin beneath your fingers and the taste of his lips and the way his hands slip under your shirt and press you closer

without hearing the tiny sounds he makes, deep and a little breathless as he's kissing you and you're kissing him back

and b)

how you're supposed to stop

bc now that you know what kissing Azriel feels like

you're really not sure how long you'll be able to go for without it.

(he does actually tell you the thing he's gonna give Mor shit for spilling for for the next decade

mumbled against your lips

and you're not sure how your heart doesn't give out with how far it leaps

but somehow, you manage to whisper those three words back

and Azriel makes a noise that causes your breath to tumble, bc it sounds like he doesn't quite believe it

and so you mumble it a few more times, until he kisses the words from your lips and you kiss them back onto his and neither of you can breathe)

of course there's the other option as well

the one where Azriel just can't help himself anymore

the one where you're sitting next to him in a quiet corner of the library or on the couch or in the passenger's seat of Rhys' car

and you're focused on something; your laptop, a book, your phone

and you have that slightly distant look on your face, your brows crunching

and even tho you're wearing a hoodie he's pretty sure belongs to Cassian, because it's massive on you, and your hair looks a lil wild

he feels like he's about to burst

because you're just too fucking beautiful

and he already missed his first shot bc of that fucking honking car

and it's getting hard to breathe and he really just can't take it anymore

and bc of that

he reaches over and slides his hand under your jaw, gently pulling it up and towards him

and for a moment, you're really confused, because does he want to show you something or -

and then he leans over

and suddenly

your head's empty

bc he's so close that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes and the shadows of a few freckles scattered over his nose and how long his lashes are and -

his scent washes over you, and your breath gets violently caught in your throat the same moment Azriel stills, barely an inch away

you can feel his breath on your skin and the warmth of him and how your heart is suddenly pounding against your ribs

and Azriel swears he will remember that moment until the day he dies

because you look like you've forgotten how to breathe

and you're staring at him in a way that makes every sense of doubt he had ever had about himself trickle away until there's nothing left but that harsh pulsing feeling in his chest

and he swears to himself he's gonna tell you he's hopelessly, utterly in love with you like a complete idiot

that he has been falling since the day you waltzed into the lives of him and his best friends

and how instead of crashing, the way you beam at him has given him wings

and a bunch of other stuff that won't even come close to describing how you make his heart beat out of his chest and breath hitch and whole being settle

but right now, he needs to kiss you

because he's been an absolute idiot for waiting this long

and he feels like if he waits just a second longer, he's gonna explode into a million pieces

and so

his heart pounding against his ribs and his breath getting stuck in his throat

he dips his head and kisses you

and then, just for a while, he forgets about anything and everything that's not you

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