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[vera-king-hrfl]

Thank you @alslamalskenaalraha for the original idea and @crowwolf for the tag! 🥰

Chararacter/OC Asks!

This is Ryldinn (real name Shar’zakin Baenre)

Lolth-sworn noble Drow.

Gloomstalker Ranger, assassin/sex slave

5'7"

135lbs

He/Him, Gay

1. How would they define love, if asked?

He didn't even know the word for anything we call love before he left the Underdark. Now, love to him is when people treat each other as equals, a thing that never happens where he's from.

2. When someone says: "This is [character name] coded, what comes to your mind?

Oooo tough one. He's a really weird person. He's a badass fighter who also happens to be a cutesy kawaii twink in his off time so... Sailor Moon maybe? 😅

3. If someone told your character they admire them, what would they feel and how would they react.

50/50 between: "Oh... honey no," and actual tears. He's not used to compliments that aren't about his body.

4. How much weight to give to others' opinions of them?

If it's someone he cares about, it's important. If not... not much. He does get a little sad when someone judges him for his race, but he gets where they're coming from and it doesn't sit with him.

5. When bad things happen, do they happen to them or because of them?

Because of him, usually. He doesn't internalize bad things happening to him. That's just the way things are. Extreme guilt if someone he cares about is hurt because of something he believes he could have changed.

6. How well do they cope with the idea of their own mortality?

His mortality? He doesn't fear death, so he doesn't really care. But he's with someone who won't live nearly as long as he will naturally, so that scares him.

7. How easily and frequently do they ask for help?

Not. Lol. He's had to a few times because he can't read (in one universe) and doesn't understand a lot of things (in both), but he doesn't like it. Always has the feeling that he can do everything himself, even if he can't.

8. What is their perspective of religion or the concept of god?

As a man who grew up Lolth-sworn drow, not by his own choice, he has been very leary about both religions and gods, usually speaking to and about them as if they are just people. He has recently become a Selunite in one of my stories because she invited him politely instead of demanding.

9. When they're in pain do they take it out on others or internalize?

Deny deny deny. He's the guy who'll be covered in blood and wounds, staggering, near death, and still say he's fine because he doesn't want to show weakness or bother anyone. More minor pain, no one will even notice unless they know him very well.

10. Their most defining moment vs. your favorite for them?

Depends on the story. In one, it was meeting Cal, because before that he didn't know anyone who was just genuinely kind and patient.

In the other, it was @crowwolf OC Kitalia. Everyone in his life before then basically just used him and manipulated him, including his adopted father Raphael and his close friend Astarion. Kit dove into all that, saw what was going on, and convinced him that he was competent to make his own decisions and live independently. He's not, but we're getting there.

11. One word you would use to describe them, a word they'd use to describe themselves, and one that their companion would use.

Hmmmm possibly scrambled, and he'd likely agree. Ryldinn is not a person who has it all together. He's trying, but when confronted with a thousand new stimuli after doing one or two things his whole life it just leaves him baffled and (subtly) flailing. Cal calls him "husband." 😊

12. How committed are they to their principles, and what would get them to abandon them?

Principles? What are those? Look, Ryldinn was chaotic evil before he came to the surface; he didn't have any. He's trying to develop a personality, but it's a challenge.

13. Is there a moral line they wouldn't cross?

He won't kill children. He's been forced to in the past, and that's basically the only thing that haunts him.

14. What could be considered their worst moment?

He doesn't know who his mother is, but he learned that she actually gave him away specifically to become a slave. He internalized it and either doesn't talk about it or makes light of it, but after seeing how amazing some parents are to their kids, that did hurt him.

15. Do they have a stomach for violence and harm and would they do it only from necessity or on a whim?

Oh, he absolutely does. He's a murderer. He has no problem with hurting and killing people, especially before leaving the UD. He'd never do it on a whim, though; he usually doesn't enjoy hurting people. He just blocks it out.

16. Do they idolize anyone? If so, why is that?

I think the first person he ever went starry-eyed over was Dame Aylin. He's very gay so it wasn't inappropriate, but how strong and brave and powerful and confident she is. Yeah, if he thought about wanting to be like someone, it would be her.

17. How open are they to change their viewpoints on matters?

Depends. He is very stubborn on a few things, but he's also very ignorant and uneducated, and he knows that, so he's definitely open to learning new things.

18. Are they vengeful, or do they easily forgive, or do they not forgive but refrain from acting on that?

Oddly enough, Ryldinn is actually a pacifist. He'd much prefer to walk away from bullies rather than engage. BUT, if someone harms a person he cares about, he is the fucking Terminator and will not stop, ever, until he spills blood. He is a violent little fucker when aroused, but he doesn't have a temper and doesn't hold a grudge.

19. What's their strongest emotion, the one which mostly rules them and compels them to action?

This is not a man ruled by emotion, in general. Is confusion an emotion? 😅 But recently, it's been loneliness and desire for connection. He has his weird family and his bff Kitalia, but having someone of his own is something he never believed possible.

20. Are they more inclined to take or to give?

Give, give, give. Give until it hurts. He's pretty vulnerable to manipulation and will absolutely fall for scams and sob stories until Kitalia smacks him and drags him home. 😁

21. How much do they prioritize their own survival, and what lengths would they go to for self-preservation?

Not at all in some ways, but he also thinks the world will stop spinning if he stops cranking, and doesn't trust many people to survive without him, so he has to stay alive to take care of his family.

22. What is their relationship with their body like?

Ryldinn is obsessed with his body. He has orthorexia and exercises a lot, has routines for skin and hair, and often dresses very revealing so he can bask in the admiration. He is very vain and not in a particularly healthy way. His face got more heavily scarred recently, and I'm not sure he would have been able to handle that if it wasn't healed.

23. How connected do they feel to their community or society?

Not at all for a long time. He was basically kept in a cage when he wasn't needed and feels no connection to drow society. Now that he's living in a city, on the surface, he's trying harder. His family is important, but he's also trying to participate in his neighborhood and community. It's still difficult because of what his former life was like, but there’s so many weirdos around he feels like he fits in better.

24. Do they self harm and if so which way?

Yes, he will. He will bite himself and dig in his nails and bang his head against the wall, overexercise, and deny himself any pleasure, which is nothing compared to the mental and emotional self-harm he inflicts upon himself. He won't do anything that will leave a visible mark or jeopardize his appearance.

25. What is the worst physical and mental pain they've ever endured?

Without getting too graphic or spoiling upcoming revelations, when his virginity was sold to a Cambion (not Raphael)

26. How do their family and their relationship with them influence their perspective and the way they navigate life?

Ryldinn has never known any biological member of his family. He never knew his parents, is unaware if he has siblings, and knows he has children, but not who they are, or even how many. He's gone most of his life without even the concept of family. So, once he started figuring out what that means and that he has people who care about him for (in his mind) no reason, now if someone tried to damage that, it would be a horrific blood bath.

27. Are they content with their sexuality and gender expression? Would a difference in their sexuality and gender affect their role in the story, and if so, how?

Ryldinn is very content being gay and a man and has no dysphoria or shame about either. If he was straight or female, however, his life might have been very different. He is a drow elf, and either being a woman or being attracted to women comes with its own set of interesting issues. As Pavel? Ryldinn’s human form exists as a gay Russian in Cold War era Miami. His life would probably be a bit easier if he were straight. 😅

28. How much importance do they place on their appearance, and on others' appearance?

For himself? Extreme. For others? It depends, really. He appreciates fashion and fitness, but nothing is a deal-breaker except basic hygiene, and even then, he likes it when his man is a bit sweaty and musky.

29. What criteria do they use to assess others' character?

As someone who had been killing people on a regular basis for 150 years, his powers of physical threat assessment are pretty acute. Can this person hurt me, is his first concern. If not, he's actually pretty naive. He knows that though, so he usually defaults to not trusting anyone until Kitalia or Cal tells him it's ok because he trusts their judgment. He's friendly, and he wants to reach out, but his background and culture shock just have him side-eyeing everyone not in his inner circle.

30. Do they take themselves too seriously?

Often. (:P@Kit)

31. How easily do they forgive themselves after making a mistake and hiw easily do they forgive others?

Interesting idiosyncracy of Ryldinn’s personality. He is both more forgiving of himself and less forgiving of others than one would think. (Unlinkining from direct harm to immediate family because yeah.) If Ryldinn fails at a task, it is because there is no way any mortal could ever succeed, in his estimation. He believes he is the best at certain things, for good reason, and avoids attempting things that are vastly outside his capabilities. Of others, he assumes failure is due to ignorance or incompetence and not particularly the fault of the person, OR, if that is not the case, he isn't very nice about it.

32. Are they more concerned with the bigger picture or are they hung up on details.

Look. The poor man doesn't even know what's going on most of the time. He's a moody, pretty little ballet dancer who likes to read books about talking animals when he isn't killing people. He wants to cuddle his boyfriend and rollerskate with his bestie. He concerns himself with neither, unless somebody makes him.

33. Do they prioritize other people's needs over their own or the other way around?

For most of his life, Ryldinn was expected to not acknowledge or communicate his own needs, so he still has trouble doing that. Thus, other people usually take precedence over himself. But he does have the ability to be what he considers selfish because something good he does that helps a lot of people he will insist was only done for one random he's friends with. What most people don't realize is that his protestations are accurate. He did start a war or destroy a cult or slay a monster for that one person 😅.

34. What do they believe their hands were made for?

Killing and being of use to others.

35. Do they consider themselves lucky or privileged?

Despite being a slave for most of his life, yes, he does. He feels blessed with a physique that saved him from death as an infant and child and allowed him to become skillful enough to stay alive in his situation. He does not see himself as privileged, particularly; he was denied an education and basic rights, but he was as well treated as an expensive exotic pet.

36. What is their level of emotional intelligence and social adeptness?

Abysmal to mid, generally. Because of his job, he's able to gauge emotions to an extent, but only as that relates to his analysis of strength and weakness. He can see fear and deception pretty well. In casual situations, he often misses social cues, doesn't understand jokes, and generally isn't aware of people's ulterior motives if they don't concern him.

37. Presented with three different ponds offering eternal health, strength, or wealth, which one would they choose to drink from? They can only drink from one.

Strength.

38. In the event of an apocalypse with only one limited safe haven available, whom or what would they prioritize bringing along?

As many family members he can grab and his knife.

39. If they could end one thing-be it a person, ideology, or misfortune-what would they choose to eradicate?

Slavery. No person should be allowed to own another against their will.

40. Would breaking their heart be a quick task or would it require significant effort?

Before, that wasn't even a thing. Now, a few people could do it with a word. Ryldinn is very sensitive when he finally opens himself up to someone.

41. Are they comfortable expressing their emotions and thoughts?

Not particularly. It's taken him decades to tell his true feelings to some people.

42. If given the chance to bring back someone from the dead, who would they resurrect and why?

His father, though that would likely be a terrible idea. He knows nothing about the man except that he's drow and Ryl saw his ghost once.

43. With whom or when do they feel most authentic and true to themselves?

Mainly with family members, but special mention for when he's on a stage, scantily clad, dancing under lights that keep him from seeing the audience.

44. Do they believe they are more in control or being controlled (by others, their circumstances, or their life in general) and are tbey correct in their assumption?

He believes that he is controlled, mainly by other people, and he's even more right than he thinks he is. From a leashed pet to a nature preserve, basically.

45. What is their fatal flaw?

Overconfidence. Ryldinn is very confident in his own abilities. He is the first person to refuse help, intending to handle everything by himself even if the odds are ridiculous. The fact that he usually succeeds doesn't help.

46. To what extent do shame or guilt affect their psyche?

He experiences differing levels of shame depending on the circumstances. People who know parts of what he was before make him uncomfortable, but if he has a chance to tell about it himself, he's usually fine. He does feel a little guilt over things he's done, but he comforts himself by saying he didn't have a choice and otherwise doesn't think about it.

47. If they were an object, which materials would they be made of?

Silk and steel. The proverbial iron fist in the velvet glove. Soft and pretty, incredibly dangerous.

48. What gets them up each morning and how obvious is that to those around them?

Fun fact: Ryldinn sleeps. He is 100% elf and can trace his family back to the banishment, but he's a high-performance machine, and he does actually sleep on occasion, though he has to feel very safe to do so. As to the substance of the question, he's pretty much adrift most of the time and basically goes along with whatever others want to do. He has his job, his family, his garden. He doesn’t have a higher purpose unless something forces him to.

49. Do they believe there is a cause, person, or a goal worth sacrificing their life for?

If it affects his family, yes.

50. If faced with a magical mirror revealing their deepest fear and greatest desire instead of their reflection, what would they see, and would they be surprised by it?

Ryldinn’s greatest fear is being turned into a drider. Even when he was a slave with no real control over his life, he was in control of his mind. He'd been frightened since childhood with the threat of becoming that if he wasn't perfect. He had no real wants, wishes, nor desires. Not healthy ones anyway. His greatest desire now is just to be in peace with the people he loves for as long as possible. He wouldn't be surprised by any of that.

51. What does responsibility mean to them, and do they embrace it or take it on reluctantly?

Responsibility is something he has been told or decided that he has to do, and he doesn't feel one way or the other about it. He just does it.

52. Does their race significantly shape their personality, or is it more of a background aspect?

Being drow definitely shapes his personality because of what that society is like. He's been raised to defer to females, who have treated him poorly, so that has become a resentment of women in general. He is also viewed by other races as untrustworthy at best, a monster at worst, and he feels that. It doesn't help that he actually is both of those things with proper motivation. He is capable of atrocities, so he can't really argue with the opinion.

53. How entitled do they feel to others' emotions, time or labor.

He doesn't. He's far more comfortable giving than receiving. He often feels like a burden if anyone does something for him.

54. Are they more likely to fo a good deed if they know it will be noticed or do they not care about acknowledgement?

He doesn't care. In fact, he'd rather not have the recognition or attention at all.

55. Do they live in the past, the present, or the future?

Mainly the present, sometimes the future due to mild precognative abilities.

56. How do they go about making decisions: do they consult a particular individual, rely on a trusted group, consider input from anyone willing to share or solely trust their own judgment?

It is fairly difficult for Ryldinn to think for himself or make his own decisions. He's been owned and controlled for most of his life. If he's not being told what to do by his current handler, he usually relies on someone he trusts to help him.

57. How likely are they to intervene if they witness something illegal or immoral, if they choose to get involved what method do they typically use. Does their eagerness to correct the situation and their approach vary with the perpetrator's status, closeness, or strength?

Ryldinn really doesn't care about laws so far as that goes. His morals are kind of twisted as well. But he hates bullies and is far more likely to take matters into his own hands if the perpetrator is stronger or more important than the victim, even if he doesn't know them.

58. When it comes to hope, do they see it as impractical or necessary and why is that?

In his former life, the concept of hope was foreign to him. His life was something that happened to him with no real input from himself nor the capacity to desire change. He indulges himself in some now, but is still very anxious most of the time, ready to act where hope fails.

59. Do they tend to overwork themselves?

Yes, he does. Ryldinn has a desire to be busy and doesn't rest enough normally. If he's not busy with one of his several jobs, he's trying to become better at reading Elvish or some such. He likely wouldn't get much rest or recreation at all if it weren’t for Kit dragging him out rollerskating occasionally.

60. What kind of smart are they?

Hmmmm well book smart is not it. He either can't read or has only been doing it for 15 years depending on AU, and isn't really interested in the finer points. Street smarts really depend on the setting. Navigating the intrigue of drow families is second nature, but something like a human cocktail party would have him a bit confused, though he can hide it well. What he is good at is judging others' level of attraction toward him and using that to manipulate them, and his physical intelligence is unmatched.

61. If tbey could make people do whatever they wanted without any consequences, would they use that power and if so how?

Nah I don't think he would. Free will was hard to come by in his past, and he'd rather someone show their true character so he can deal with them. He doesn't want power of that sort over anyone, even enemies. He finds murder far more humane than slavery or imprisonment, even mental.

62. Which of the following do they have the hardest time accepting: affection, money, or help?

Help, definitely. A long life built on intimate touch, even if it was usually unwanted, gave him a different reaction than a lot of people and he actually likes to be touched, as long as it's by someone he trusts. He doesn't understand money so has no problem with others buying him things. But asking for help is difficult because he worked alone for so long and was taught not to trust anyone's help. He still has trouble believing that anyone can perform his tasks as well as he can.

Characters/OCs asks

1. How would they define love if asked

2. When someone says "this is [character name] coded," what comes to your mind

3. if somebody told the character that they admire them what would they feel and how would they react to it

4. How much weight do they give to others' opinions of them

5. When bad things happen, do they usually think it happened to them or because of them

6. How well do they cope with the reality of their mortality

7. How easily and frequently do they ask for help

8. What is their perspective on religion and the concept of God

9. When in pain do they take it out on others or do they keep it inside

10. Their most defining moment vs your favorite one of them

11. One word they'd use to describe themselves, one you'd use to describe them and lastly a word that their closest/loved one would use to describe them

12. How committed are they to their principles, and what might get them to abandon them

13. Is there a moral line they would never cross

14. What could be considered as their worst moment

15. Do they have a stomach for violence and harm and if so do they only do it out of necessity or at any whim

16. Do they idolize anyone, if so why is that

17. How open are they to change their viewpoints on matters

18. Are they vengeful or do they easily forgive and forget or do they not forgive but don't go as far as acting on that

19. What's their strongest emotion, the one which mostly rules them and compells them to action

20. Are they more inclined to take or give

21. How much do they prioritize their own survival, and what lengths would they go to for self-preservation

22. What is their relationship with their body like

23. How connected do they feel to their community and society

24. Do they self harm and if so in which way

25. What's the worst physical or mental pain they've ever endured

26. How do their family and their relationship with them influence their perspective and the way they navigate life

27. Are they content with their sexuality and gender expression? would a difference in their sexuality and gender affect their role in the story and if so how

28. How much importance do they place on their appearance, and on others' appearance

29. What criteria do they use to assess others' character

30. Do they take themselves too seriously

31. How easily do they forgive themselves after making a mistake and how easily do they forgive others

32. Are they more concerned with the bigger picture or are they hung up on the details

33. Do they prioritise other people's needs over their own or the other way around

34. What do they believe their hands were made for

35. Do they consider themselves lucky or privileged

36. What is their level of emotional intelligence and social adeptness

37. Presented with three different ponds offering eternal health, strength, or wealth, which one would they choose to drink from, they can only drink from one

38. In the event of an apocalypse with only one limited safe haven available, whom or what would they prioritize bringing along

39. If they could end one thing—be it a person, ideology or misfortune—what would they choose to eradicate

40. Would breaking their heart be a quick task or would it require significant effort

41. Are they comfortable expressing their emotions and thoughts

42. If given the chance to bring back someone from the dead, who would they choose and why

43. With whom or when do they feel most authentic and true to themselves

44. Do they believe they are more in control or being controlled (by others, their circumstances or their life in general) and are they correct in their assumption

45. What is their fatal flaw

46. To what extent does shame or guilt influence their psyche

47. If they were an object, Which material(s) would they be made of

48. What gets them out of the bed each morning and how obvious is that motivation to those around them

49. Do they believe there's a cause, person, or a goal worth sacrificing their life for

50. If faced with a magical mirror revealing their deepest fear and greatest desire instead of their reflection, what would they see and would they be surprised by it

51. What does responsibility mean to them and do they embrace it or take it on reluctantly

52. Does their race significantly shape their personality or is it more of a background aspect

53. How entitled do they feel to others' emotions, time or labor

54. Are they more likely to do a good deed if they know it will be noticed or do they not care about acknowledgment

55. Do they live in the past, the present or the future

56. How do they go about making decisions: do they consult a particular individual, rely on a trusted group, consider input from anyone willing to share or solely trust their own judgment

57. How likely are they to intervene if they witness something illegal or immoral, If they choose to get involved what method do they typically use, Does their eagerness to correct the situation and their approach vary depending on the perpetrator's status, closeness or strength

58. When it comes to hope do they view it as: impractical or necessary and why is that

59. Do they tend to overwork themselves

60. What type of smart are they

61. If they could make people do whatever they wanted without any consequences, would they use that power and if so how

62. Which of the following do they have the hardest time accepting: affection, money or help

[whatifitis]

♡ this love - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Despite every losing battle, this love found it's way back to each other.

Author's Note: hey guys! this is the FINAL final part of this fic but can be read as a stand alone! i hope yall enjoy it <3 also this shit was not proofread and i think it could be a lot better but idk how to fix it 😭

WC: 2782

CW: fluff, tears, wedding shit, overuse of song lyrics, i think that's it

Maybe, when we’re ready, we’ll meet again.

That’s what you always told yourself. The sort of mantra you told yourself everyday since you had to say goodbye to the love of your life. Almost as if trying to convince yourself that you truly did the right thing in the end, letting him go. Letting go of the person who you’d loved and lost countless times, the person who you thought was your forever.

Were we a moment, or a lifetime?

Years of back and forth, always questioning every moment. Was it the right decision? Is it worth the time you’d already lost? Did it make sense? Was he the way to find your way home?

But now, everything makes sense. The answer has never been clearer, for this man loves you for who you are. You don’t fall through his hands like water. Instead, he holds you like the stars hold the moon. Safe and sound, bound in the warmth of him and everything he is.

And today is the day. Today, you get to marry the person who makes you feel whole. The person who has held you together and fixed what was once broken. All your bad decisions feel less terrible the second he listens. You truly never could have seen him coming.

Nerves rattle your body as you’re being pampered, getting your hair and makeup done for this big day. You had instated your best friend, Pietra, as your maid of honor and you’re honestly grateful that she accepted with no hesitation. She has been on top of every miniscule thing, making sure everything is perfect for today.

You were sat in the makeup chair when Pietra came up and gently held your hand in hers. With a gentle squeeze she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… excited.” you say sincerely, a soft smile gracing your face, “It’s been quite the journey. But I’m happy, genuinely. I’m excited to see where we go from here and for the first time in my life, I don’t have any doubts or regrets.”

“Good. You deserve this, darling. Honestly, all the shit you’ve gone through led to this moment. Everything made you the person you are today. And I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.” Pietra laughs and watches as you join her in doing so.

The two of you share a moment of quiet and calm, despite the chaos that surrounds the two of you. Bridesmaids are scrambling to put on their dress and do finishing touches, some wedding staff communicating to each other, making sure everything goes according to plan.

“I’m gonna need the bride, maid of honor and all the bridesmaids downstairs in about 30 minutes. So everyone please make sure you’ve got your dresses and shoes on, grab your bouquets and make your way down. Thank you.” someone shouts from the door before shutting it behind them.

Pietra looks at you with raised eyebrows as she lets out a deep breath, “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

-=+=-

Two wooden doors now stand before you, towering and all mighty. Intricate detailing along the panels now blockade you from your person.

It’s hard to believe that this is real. For so much of your life, it was a constant battle of fighting for love even when the other person didn’t deserve it. Time after time, you were left out in the cold, living off little light. Now, your heart is so full of this person that you can hardly call it your own anymore.

You stand and wait, feeling the palms of your hands grow sweaty from the nerves and elatedness you feel. As you take your final deep breaths before the doors open, you feel an arm intertwine with yours and you look up to see your father. He smiles at you and tries not to let any tears fall as it was your day.

You watch your fathers eyes and silently thank him for standing by you, giving his arm a little squeeze when the doors open and sounds of violins begin to drown out any whispers or creaks from wooden chairs. Everyone stands and watches as you begin to walk down the aisle, arm in arm with your father. Tears are shed and sniffles can already be heard. But none of that is heard by you as your wild boy comes into view.

Lando is standing at the altar, wearing a black suit, pink carnation pinned to the lapel. His hands are locked together in front of him as he tries not to fiddle too much. His heart is racing faster than the cars he drives. You can see him trying to take breaths, trying not to burst out crying yet but it’s no use. Some tears have already escaped his eyes as he’s filled with so much exhilaration.

You can’t help but let out a little laugh when you see the tears that have already fallen on both your faces, remembering the conversation you’d had the day before where you were so confident that neither of you were gonna cry. Safe to say you’re thankful no bets were placed for that.

Once you’d reached the stairs at the bottom of the altar, you turned to your father and kissed his cheek, whispering a thank you and handing him your bouquet of flowers before you walked up the steps to meet your soon to be husband.

The violins died down and your officiant, Oscar Piastri, quietly cleared his throat before beginning. Lando was already reaching for your hands before Oscar could even get a word in, making a few members of the audience giggle from watching Lando’s eagerness.

As everyone quickly takes their seat, Lando leans into you and whispers “I won’t lie. I’m so anxious right now I feel like I might puke or shit or maybe both.” to which you let out a laugh.

“Same.” was all you could get it between laughs.

Once everyone has taken their seat, Oscar begins “Good afternoon, family, friends, and loved ones. We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Y/N and Lando in marriage. Love is a journey, and today marks the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. When Lando had first met Y/N, you could just see it in his eyes, that she was the one. He loved talking about her and talking to her. The amount of times I would have to bring him back to earth during shoots was insane. He truly loves her and he does everything to show her and everyone that she’s his person. Though the two have had their ups and downs, they still held strong and came back better than before. Marriage is a bond built on love, trust, and commitment. Y/N and Lando, do you come here freely and with full hearts to join in marriage?”

With a soft squeeze on your hand, Lando says “I do.” smiling with his eyes wrinkling in the corners.

“I do” you reply softly, already feeling your throat attempt to betray you and make you cry tears of joy.

“I was told that the bride and groom would like to share a few vows so we’ll go ahead and begin those.”

Oscar takes a step back as Lando lets go of your hands for a moment, reaching for the inside pocket of his suit and pulling out a small journal. Once he’s opened it up, Lando grabs one of your hands in his again and begins to read “Y/N, I don’t even know where to begin. I guess, firstly, I wanna say thank you. Thank you for so many things. Thank you for loving me, for staying by me, for forgiving me for all the stupid shit I’ve done. Ehm, all those years ago I said some stupid things instead of ‘I love you’ . And I guess that was cause I was scared of what I was falling into but… now, being with you and talking to you and stuff, it makes it all seem so much easier than what I imagined it to be. Like, no matter what happens, I know that being able to be by your side will make it so much easier. When we met, I knew that you held so much in yourself. Like, I knew from one moment with you, that you loved with your whole self, you worked hard for anything you wanted, and you did anything for others. You’re the sort of person who puts others before yourself and I find that admirable. And I know that after everything, you still often have fears so I just wanted to remind you that no matter what, I still love you most. We argue, I still love you most. You are mad, I still love you most. You are upset with me, I still love you most. I’m mad, I still love you most. You are having a hard time, I still love you most. You are overwhelmed, I still love you most. You are feeling empty, I still love you most. I still love you most, for my love for you is unconditional… like the Katy Perry song. I wouldn’t trade my love for you for anything in the world, not even a WDC. And lastly, no matter how much I say I love you, I always love you more than that.”

Both you and Lando have tears spilling down your faces now. He tucks his journal back into his pocket as you gently wipe away a few tears from his face. The warmth and comfort of your hand makes Lando lean into them slightly before you have to pull back and read your vows from your own little journal. You shake one of your hands to try and dry away the clamminess of them. You reach for one of Lando’s hands again and speak, “Lando, fuck. Where do I even start? When we first met, I wasn’t looking for anything. We had just found each other and after some time, I fell in love with you. It was like you just came out of the blue. Since that day, I’ve thanked the universe everyday for pushing us into each other's way. We got lost a few times along the way but we always found eachother again. A lot of people may call it fate but I think you just masterminded me. Either way, I’m happy this love came back to me. And you always gave me a choice. You always made sure to remind me that it was okay if I didn’t choose us. You understood why I wouldn’t choose you and you knew you would have to be okay with that and that you would have to let me go. Today, as I stand here before you and the people who love and care for us, I can say that I don’t know much about certainty, but what I do know is that I choose you. And I’ll choose you over and over. Without a pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat. I’ll keep choosing you.” you finish.

Throughout your vows, it was difficult for you to continue. Tears were constantly flowing and the lump in your throat made it hard not to break every few words. Lando was profusely wiping tears off his face but at some point, he realized there was no use so he just let them stay.

Oscar steps forward again with a red nose and somewhat puffy eyes from crying, “May we get the rings please.”

Once both you and Lando are holding each other's rings, Oscar continues officiating, “These rings are a symbol of love and promises you share. As you place them on each other’s hands, let them remind you of your vows and the unbreakable bond you share now. Please place the ring on the other finger and repeat after me ‘With this ring, I thee wed.”

Lando, almost dropping the ring due to his hands being sweaty and shaky, placed the ring on your finger and stated “With this ring, I thee wed.”

You follow after him, placing the ring on his finger and stating “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“By the power vested in me by a sketchy website on the internet that Lando sent me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss!”

Before the crowd could even erupt with cheers and applause, you were in Lando’s arms with his lips attaching to yours. You grabbed the side of his face with a hand while the other wrapped around his shoulders and you held on tightly, not wanting to let go for even a second. All that pain and heartbreak has led to this moment, and it was all worth it. It wasn’t easy but the two of you managed to make a not so great thing into something so beautiful, no one could believe it.

-=+=-

The reception was filled with laughs, tears of happiness, and so much love. It was now time for some speeches and your dad was first up. You took a sip of your drink and felt Landos hand reach for yours and rest on your lap. You put your drink down and held his hand between yours as you watched your dad stand and speak into the microphone, “Hello, everyone. To those who don’t know me, I am Y/N’s father. I wanna start off by congratulating the happy couple. I hope the two of you really take in and appreciate this next part of your love. It’s a really beautiful thing to share with the person you love the most. Lando, I won’t lie, I wasn’t always your biggest fan. But then again, it’s hard to impress this old guy. You went ahead and did the impossible, however. You made my little girl happy. You made her feel safe enough to wanna get married. For the longest time, she always said she’d never want to get married. Said it was a waste of time and money for it only to end in divorce. To give her credit, she made a presentation about it and added statistics so I can see why she thought that way. Anyways, when you asked me for her hand in marriage, I remember saying that I was just so pleased. I was so pleased that you had found each other because you just got each other. You really do. And I see you in those quiet moments when the two of you are around and you’re just cuddled up on the sofa. The two of you just laughing and talking and the way Lando looks at Y/N and I just look at you and know that you two are just so in love. I know that through everything that’s happened, neither of you stopped loving each other. As a final thought, I would like to thank you, Lando. Thank you for loving her as much as I do and thank you for always looking after her. Sweetheart, if he ever pushes your buttons, I’ll gladly make him clean all the stables at the farm.”

Through tears and blurry vision, you laugh at the ending of your father’s speech. As he walks towards you, you stand to give him a hug and let him know how grateful you are for him and to let him know how much you love him. After a moment, the rest of the speeches began. More tears were shed and laughs were shared.

As the final speech was wrapping up, you turned to your side and looked at him. The person you were gonna spend the rest of forever with. Lando feels you staring and turns to you, “You’re staring.” he jokes.

“Yeah. Staring at my beautiful husband. Thank you for loving me.” you softly say.

“Nah. I should be the one thanking you. You’re the one who is letting me love you. And now I get to flex my hot and beautiful wife everywhere I go.” he says while wiggling his ring finger that is now happily bound by a simple gold band.

This is it. The start of forever. Now that you really have him, you never wanna know what life is like without him. You spent too much time apart and second guessing yourselves. It’s time to just let go of whatever may have happened when you were kids and just fall in love with life together. This love that was fated or willed will continue to grow and prosper as time goes by. You will love each other intentionally and love with every bit of conscience you were born with.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | jjk ch20

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to their connection… do they find a way to fix it?

warnings: profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity.

chap warnings: jk begs for seven days a week. hes so desperate LOL. nari mean as usual. uhhhhh this chap is p much js jk begging. mentions of oc being drunk. idk.

wc: medium length idk

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii

a/n: was debating whether to leave this chapter on a cliffhanger or not and I decided yes cuz next one it will hit so much harder. I promise you they sort things out in the next chapter and there will be some pussay clenching smut but not right now sorry guys anyway stay locked in for the next chapter. tysm for reading thank youuuuu my bbs

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Monday

Jungkook wakes up in a blur of warmth and regret, tangled in sheets that smell like nothing. They should smell like you. They did smell like you. That soft, familiar scent that clung to his hoodie whenever you’d burrow into his chest after a long shift. Instead, it’s just detergent and sleep, and he fucking hates it.

He groans, sitting up, blinking blearily at the sunlight slicing through the blinds. His phone is the first thing he grabs, thumb unlocking it with muscle memory, swiping down to his messages.

Nothing. Like always.

No texts. No missed calls. No tiny olive branch in the form of a single word, an emoji, a punctuation mark—anything.

He exhales sharply, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah, no shit,” he mutters to himself. What did he expect? That you’d suddenly wake up and forgive him because the sun rose?

He tosses his phone onto the bed with a scoff, laughing bitterly at his own stupidity before dragging himself to the bathroom.

The shower is quick—hot enough to scald, like it can burn off the mistakes of the past few weeks. It doesn’t. When he steps out, towel slung low on his hips, the clock reads 8:00 AM.

Which means 8:30 is soon.

Which means 9:00 AM is coming.

Which means you’ll be at work.

He swipes his phone off the bed again, checks one more time—just in case, just to confirm that he is, in fact, a pathetic idiot—before dressing quickly. Simple fit. Black hoodie, sweats, cap. Sunglasses, in case the universe is feeling extra cruel today.

At first, he’s thinking of heading to the supermarket. That’s what normal people do, right? Pick up a bouquet, make some dramatic apology with store-bought roses that have been sitting in the refrigerated section for God knows how long?

But then he shakes his head.

No.

That’s not him. That’s not you.

The supermarket is impersonal. The flowers there have no life. They’re plucked, packaged, shipped, and sold, like love on a goddamn conveyor belt. And maybe if this were any other girl, he could settle for that.

But this is you. And you’re not any other girl.

And for you, only the field will do.

It takes twenty minutes to get there, and by the time Jungkook pulls up, the morning air is crisp and golden, the kind that makes you feel like something is about to change. The field stretches before him in lazy waves, dotted with wildflowers that seem to reach toward the sun, unaware of the man currently kneeling in their midst like a desperate idiot.

His hands sink into the earth, fingers brushing against soft petals as he plucks the daisies carefully, like an offering. The yellow ones. The ones that remind him of you.

It should be ridiculous. Maybe it is. But the thought of you holding something that grew from the ground, something touched by the same wind that once tangled your hair when he brought you here—

That’s worth a little dirt on his knees.

Once he has enough, he dusts himself off, eyeing his work. The bouquet is uneven, messy, imperfect—just like him. But it’s real. And real is all he can give you.

He stops by a convenience store on the way back. No extravagant chocolates. No fancy truffles or artisan shit he can’t pronounce. Just plain milk chocolate—safe, simple, something he knows you’ll eat without question.

And then it’s time.

He drives to your apartment, and when he arrives, Jungkook double-checks before stepping out of his car, watching your apartment window like a hawk. No movement. No shadows. Just stillness.

Good.

He moves quickly, hood pulled up, sunglasses on, looking less like a world-famous singer and more like some local creep delivering secret gifts. He crouches at your doorstep, placing the bundle of daisies down with careful precision, like if he moves too fast, they’ll disintegrate. Then, he pulls a scrap of paper from his pocket, unfolding it with shaky fingers.

A pen was a struggle to find this morning, and the ink smudged a little when he wrote the note, but the words are clear enough:

Please just talk to me. One word. One text. Anything. I’m sorry.

His throat tightens as he sets it beside the flowers, weighing it down with the chocolate bar so it won’t fly away.

And then he retreats.

Back to the car. Back to waiting.

He stays there, parked across the street like a total freak, watching, waiting, ignoring the calls from his manager that light up the dashboard. He should be in meetings. He should be doing literally anything else. But nothing feels more important than this.

Time stretches thin. Hours pass.

Until finally, a familiar car pulls in.

Nari’s.

Jungkook straightens instinctively, heart hammering. He ducks slightly, shifting in his seat like a criminal evading capture.

You step out of the passenger side, looking—God.

Tired. Pretty. Distant. Everything he misses and everything he’s lost, wrapped into one person.

He stays completely still as you walk toward the apartment, Nari at your side, keys in hand. He can’t see your face when you stop at the door, can’t hear the words exchanged, but he doesn’t need to. He watches, frozen, as you look down.

And then, you pick up the chocolates.

Not the flowers. Not the note. Just the chocolates, snatched up and taken inside like nothing else exists.

Jungkook exhales shakily.

It hurts.

It stings in that way only you can make it sting. But at the same time—his heart clenches, because it’s so you. It’s such a you thing to do, choosing something safe, something easy, something that doesn’t require touching the mess he made.

And at least you took something, right?

At least that means something.

Doesn’t it?

He waits another twenty minutes, just to be sure. Then, like a thief in the night, he sneaks back up, creeping toward your doorstep with the grace of a man who has nothing left to lose.

And sure enough, the flowers are still there. The note, untouched.

Jungkook swallows hard, staring at the remnants of his silent plea.

His hands clench at his sides.

This is going to take more than just daisies.

Tuesday

Jungkook has never been much of a morning person, but today, he’s up before his alarm. Not that he really slept. He spent most of the night staring at his ceiling, replaying the moment you snatched the chocolates off your doorstep like some kind of reluctant peace offering. It wasn’t much. But it was something.

And something is better than nothing.

So, naturally, he decides today needs to be bolder.

Sitting in his car, parked outside the diner five minutes before your shift starts, he ignores the relentless buzzing of his phone.

Another meeting missed. Another unread text from his manager.

Whatever.

They can wait. You, on the other hand—

Well, he can’t afford to waste time.

When he walks into the diner, the bell above the door chimes, and the air smells exactly the same as it always has—coffee, maple syrup, a faint trace of grease and nostalgia. It’s the kind of scent that clings to you, seeps into your clothes, settles in your hair.

The scent of the place where he met you.

The last time he was here, he had sulked at a table like a lovesick idiot. But today, he heads straight for the bar—the place where you and Nari always stand.

His presence is immediate, like a storm rolling in. You’re mid-conversation with a customer when you see him, and your whole body stiffens. The easy warmth in your voice vanishes, replaced by something colder, sharper.

Jungkook slides onto the stool at the bar like he belongs there, like he’s just some guy grabbing coffee instead of a man desperately trying to piece himself back together in the exact place where he lost you.

And then—

You scowl.

Hard.

Your eyes narrow, your lips press into a thin, furious line, and for a split second, he swears you might actually throw the pot of coffee at his head.

He may or may not find it the tiniest bit cute.

But then—your lip trembles. Just a little.

And his heart seizes in his chest.

Because there it is. There you are. Even if it’s just in the form of pure, unfiltered hatred—it’s still you. He’ll take it.

Nari appears like an omen, planting herself directly between you and Jungkook with her arms crossed, expression screaming murder.

“Oh, look,” she drawls. “A stray dog. Didn’t realize we were running a shelter today.”

Jungkook sighs. “Good morning to you too, Nari.”

“Don’t ‘good morning’ me. What do you want?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. He should say coffee. He should say breakfast. He should say literally anything normal. But his eyes flicker back to you, watching the way you very deliberately avoid looking at him, the tension wound tight in your shoulders.

You’re mad. You’re hurt. But you’re still here.

And that’s enough.

Nari clicks her tongue, unimpressed. “Alright, since you’re just gonna sit there like an emotionally constipated golden retriever, I’ll get your Americano.”

She turns, yanks the coffee pot off the burner, and pours it aggressively into a glass of ice. The way she slams it down in front of him nearly causes a spill.

“No refills,” she snaps.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, staring at the mug. “Jeez, thanks.”

“Fuck off.”

He takes a sip, but the coffee tastes like sawdust. Not because it’s bad—but because his stomach is twisted into knots, and you still haven’t said a single word to him.

So he does what he’s been doing best lately—he watches.

Watches the way you greet customers with a polite smile, the way you laugh at some old man’s joke, the way you linger just a little longer at table 3 when you think he isn’t looking.

And he knows what you’re doing.

You’re putting on a show.

You’re making sure he sees how fine you are without him. It’s working.

And it’s pissing him the fuck off.

Especially when your boss, the old-aged guy with graying hair, makes a passing comment about how “someone’s extra cheerful today.”

Jungkook’s grip on his mug tightens. He stays long enough to suffer through another fifteen minutes of watching you pretend he doesn’t exist before he gives up. There’s no point.

This was a stupid idea.

So he digs into his pocket, pulls out some cash, and slaps it onto the counter—more than enough for the coffee and then some.

“Keep the change,” he mutters.

Then, without another word, he turns and storms out, and second the door swings shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath.

Nari smirks, wiping her hands on her apron. “Well, that was fun.”

You don’t answer. Your chest feels tight, your hands still curled into fists.

It wasn’t fun. Not even a little bit.

Because the moment you saw him sitting there, looking at you like that, it felt like someone had cracked open your ribs and reached straight into your heart. And now, as much as you don’t want to, you feel like crying.

Nari sees it before you can even blink.

“Hey,” she says, voice softer now. She nudges you gently with her elbow. “It’s okay.”

You exhale sharply, then force yourself to meet her gaze. And then, with zero hesitation, Nari lifts her hand.

“High five?” She grins.

You hesitate for a split second before finally slapping your palm against hers.

It’s weak. Pathetic.

But it’s something..

Wednesday

Jungkook has officially lost it.

That’s the only logical conclusion. Because at this point, he’s not even in his car anymore. He’s not lurking from the shadows like some angsty movie protagonist. No.

He’s sitting outside your apartment.

Like a fucking maniac.

At first, he tells himself he’ll only stay for a little while. Just an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time to—what? What is he even expecting to happen? That you’ll step outside and suddenly decide you love him again? That you’ll take one look at his miserable ass and fold instantly?

Pathetic.

Still, he stays. And he waits. And he waits. And—

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Again.

The screen lights up with another call from his manager, who, at this point, is probably questioning whether Jungkook is alive.

He flips his phone over, setting it face-down on the concrete. Not today.

The hours pass painfully slow. He watches the sky shift from bright blue to burnt orange to deep, inky black, and still—no sign of you.

Where the fuck are you?

He pulls out his phone and checks the date.

Wednesday. Your day off.

And just like that, it hits him.

You’re out.

It’s your day off. You’re out.

How the fuck did he forget?

He groans, dragging his hands down his face. No wonder you haven’t come home yet. You’re probably off having the time of your life while he sits here like an abandoned dog.

Embarrassing.

Still, he waits. For what? He doesn’t know.

And then—finally—at 9 p.m, he hears footsteps. Loud. Stumbling. A little chaotic. And then—

Laughter.

His head snaps up just in time to see you and Nari rounding the corner, heels clicking against the pavement, arms linked.

And—

Oh.

You’re in a dress.

A tiny fucking dress.

It’s barely there, riding up your thighs, hugging every curve, glittering faintly under the dim glow of the streetlights.

And Nari? She’s just as bad. The two of you look like you’ve just walked straight out of some high-fashion editorial.

Jungkook swallows. Hard.

He should not be thinking about how good you look.

But he is.

Fuck.

Your hair is a mess. Your makeup is slightly smudged. You’re clearly tipsy, giggling at something Nari just said, your arms wrapped around each other for balance.

And yet, you’ve never looked more beautiful.

For a second, he just stares. Then—he moves.

He’s on his feet in an instant, brushing dust off his jeans as he takes a hesitant step forward.

And then—Nari spots him. Her entire face drops. “Oh, hell no.”

Jungkook freezes.

You blink blearily, head tilting. “Wait…” You squint, eyes unfocused, like you’re trying to process if he’s really there or if the alcohol is playing tricks on you. “Is that…?”

Nari tightens her grip around your waist. “Nope. It’s not.”

Jungkook steps closer. “Baby—”

“NOPE.”

You frown, blinking rapidly. “Wait, that is Jungkook, right?”

“Nope,” Nari says again, louder this time, already dragging you toward the door.

Jungkook exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, just—just let me talk to her—”

“Do I look like a fucking messenger pigeon to you?” Nari snaps. “No. Back.”

Jungkook groans, watching helplessly as Nari practically shoves you inside like she’s stuffing contraband into a duffel bag.

You, however, are still incredibly lost.

“Wait, was that Jungkook?” Your voice is muffled through the door.

“No.”

“Nari, I swear I saw—”

“You saw nothing.”

“Why would you lie to me?”

Jungkook hears you stomp your foot, and for a brief moment, he can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry.

And then—

“NARI, I WANTED TO TALK TO HIM—”

“NO, YOU DIDN’T—”

“YES, I DID—”

“GO TO BED.”

The door slams.

Silence.

Jungkook closes his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. Nothing is working.

Absolutely fucking nothing.

Thursday

Jungkook is trapped.

Not literally. He could technically walk out of the studio if he really wanted to. He could ditch the shoot, escape into the city, do what he does best—run.

But that’s the problem. He doesn’t want to run.

He wants you.

Unfortunately, his manager has finally caught up to his little disappearing act, and now he’s paying the price. His entire Thursday is wasted inside a freezing studio, stuck in the same cycle of flashing lights, outfit changes, and fake-ass smiles for a camera he doesn’t give a single shit about anymore.

Every time a photographer tells him to “look sexy,” he just ends up looking like someone who hasn’t slept in three days. Which, fair.

Still, he goes through the motions. Poses, angles, the occasional deep sigh.

And then—finally—a break.

The moment he’s released from the studio and into the break room, he practically collapses into one of the cheap plastic chairs, head thudding against the table.

God, he’s losing his mind.

And it’s only been three days.

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face before pulling out his phone.

Nothing.

No messages. No calls.

Not from you. Not from anyone.

(Except his manager, but he’s ignoring those.)

His knee bounces beneath the table as he stares at the empty inbox, a deep frustration clawing at his ribs. He’s already tried texting. He’s already tried calling. And yesterday—he even fucking sat outside your door like a stray cat waiting for scraps, and still—nothing.

He’s getting desperate.

Which is why, against all logic, he suddenly finds himself logging into a work computer and pulling up his email.

It’s a stupid idea.

But he does it anyway.

The subject line is empty. The body of the email even more so. At first, he just types your name. Then, a single word.

Please.

And then—he hits send. A few seconds later—

Undelivered.

Jungkook stares blankly at the error message, blinking.

Oh.

That’s when he realizes—

You blocked him.

On fucking email.

His desperation reaches new, dangerous levels.

Because suddenly, he’s pulling out his phone again, fingers moving entirely on their own, searching—

For Nari’s number.

The only problem? He doesn’t have Nari’s number. So what does he do? He fucking looks it up. On Facebook. Jungkook has never felt like a creep in his entire life—until now. But it works. Because a few minutes later, he finds it.

And before he can even think—he texts her.

Jungkook [3:27 PM]: hey

Jungkook [3:28 PM]: please just tell her to talk to me

The response is immediate.

Nari [3:28 PM]: fuck off

Jungkook exhales, already feeling the migraine forming.

Jungkook [3:29 PM]: okay but like. how did u even know it was me

Nari [3:29 PM]: because i haven’t given my number to a single man since 2018 and ur the only dumbass desperate enough to go looking for it

Jungkook pauses.

She’s…not wrong.

Jungkook [3:30 PM]: yeah okay fair.

Jungkook [3:31 PM]: but can u just tell her i emailed her

Nari [3:31 PM]: LMAOOOOO

Nari [3:32 PM]: EMAIL?????

Nari [3:32 PM]: holy fuck ur down BAD

Jungkook groans, throwing his head back.

Jungkook [3:32 PM]: forget it

He slams his phone down onto the table with a loud thud, drawing the attention of literally everyone else in the break room.

A few stylists give him weird looks. One of the photographers eyes him warily over the rim of their coffee cup. Someone even mutters, “Is he okay?”

Jungkook does not care.

He’s losing his fucking mind.

——

The sound of rain pattering against the window fills the small apartment, a steady rhythm against the distant hum of the city. The lamp casts a dim glow over the living room, illuminating the two of you in the comfortable mess of your couch—half-empty takeout containers on the coffee table, a forgotten drama playing on the TV, and a blanket lazily draped over both your legs.

It should be a peaceful night.

But Nari is looking at you.

Too long. Too intently.

And you know exactly what she’s about to say.

“So,” she starts, dragging the word out as she shifts, resting her chin on her palm. “When are you gonna give in?”

You blink, turning to her. “What?”

Nari raises an eyebrow. “When are you gonna give in?” she repeats, slower this time. “Have you not seen this man has been begging for basically a week straight?”

Your stomach clenches. You grip the blanket tighter, staring down at the threads. “I—” You shake your head, voice hesitant. “I don’t know, Nari.”

“You don’t know?” she repeats, incredulous. “Girl. Are you blind?”

You shoot her a glare. “No, I’m not blind.”

“You sure?” She gestures wildly with her hands. “Because from where I’m sitting, I see a man who’s been wrecking himself for you. Like, he’s practically on his knees at this point.”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “And then what, Nari?” Your voice wavers as you look at her. “What do I do after this week? After this month? What do we do when he leaves?” The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t stop. “He’s got what—three days and one week? And then what? He’s gone. For nearly two years.”

Nari’s face softens, but she doesn’t back down. “I get it. I do,” she says. “But look at him. He’s destroying himself for you.”

Your throat tightens. You want to argue, but you can’t. Because you’ve seen it, too.

The way he lingers outside your door like a ghost of something you once knew. The way he shows up at the diner, his eyes desperate, hopeful, even when you glare at him like he’s the last person on Earth you want to see. The way his voice trembled when he called you, pleading.

It’s breaking him.

And the worst part?

It’s breaking you, too.

Nari hesitates, lips pressing together, like she wants to say something else. Then, she sighs, shaking her head. “Just—just think about it, okay?”

You don’t respond.

Nari stands, stretching before grabbing her bag. “I’m gonna go home now,” she says, and her voice is gentler this time. “Love you. Bye.”

You barely manage to whisper back, “Love you, too.”

Then the door clicks shut, and you’re left alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

And the lingering scent of rain through the open window.

Friday

Jungkook doesn’t even realize he’s driven to the field until his feet hit the dirt. Like instinct. Muscle memory. Like the universe pulled him here before he even made the choice.

The air is crisp, biting at his skin, but he barely notices. He just stands there, staring at the spot where he fell in love with you. The same stretch of grass. The same quiet wind. The same fucking daisies that keep growing back no matter what.

Like nothing ever happened.

Like he didn’t fucking ruin everything.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. His chest feels tight. Maybe if he stands here long enough, he’ll wake up and this will have all been a bad dream. Maybe—

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jungkook turns, and there, standing a few feet away, is Nari.

In full hot pink running gear.

It’s ridiculous. Blinding, even. Especially considering the fact that it’s mid-winter, and she’s standing in the middle of this field—the field—like she owns the place.

He tries—really tries—to stifle his laugh, but a smirk twitches at his lips.

“Of course you’re here,” he mutters.

“Of course I’m here?” Nari scoffs, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who followed me, you fucking stalker. Or should I say, following YN?”

“I didn’t—” Jungkook shakes his head. “I didn’t even know you’d be here.”

Nari narrows her eyes. “Yeah. What a coincidence.” Then she shrugs. “Good. I was hoping I’d find you.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Because I’m so fucking sick of watching my best friend cry over you every night.”

His stomach clenches. His heart twists so painfully he swears it physically aches. He swallows. “Why are you even here anyway?”

Nari scoffs again. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. This stupid field.” She gestures vaguely at the open space, unimpressed. “I get it. It’s nice for runs.”

Jungkook deadpans. “You don’t even run.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna start,” she snaps back. “Whatever.”

She rips off her hot pink sweatband dramatically and points a finger at him. “Come on. Let’s talk, then.”

But neither of them actually end up talking.

Nari just stands there, casually taking selfies, the picture of someone who couldn’t care less. And Jungkook—Jungkook just stands there, watching her, the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Until he can’t take it anymore. Until it breaks him.

His knees hit the ground.

It’s not graceful. It’s not planned. It just happens. Like his body physically can’t hold it in anymore.

“Please.” His voice cracks. “Please, Nari. I can’t do this anymore. I— I can’t.”

Nari gasps.

“LITERALLY NO FUCKING WAY,” she blurts out, eyes wide as she stares down at him.

Jungkook doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he looks pathetic, that she’s witnessing this downward spiral in real time. He just—he just needs.

“Please,” he begs again, voice raw. “Help me. I don’t— I don’t know what else to do. Please, Nari, I—”

Don’t think she’s not basking in this.

Nari thrives in power over a man, and this? This is once-in-a-lifetime content. Jungkook fucking Jeon—international superstar, golden boy, rich, famous, untouchable—is on his knees in the dirt, begging her for help.

She’s biting back laughter. Hard.

And she drags it out.

Because why the fuck wouldn’t she?

But then—then Jungkook looks up, his eyes shining, his voice so genuinely broken, and—

Okay. She might actually feel bad now.

Nari sighs, shaking her head. “Alright, alright, get up,” she mutters. “I’ll help.”

Jungkook’s head snaps up so fast she’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes. “I was just making you beg a little longer.”

Jungkook just stares at her, then lets out this half-laugh, half-disbelieving breath. “You’ve been so mean to me.”

Nari shrugs. “Yeah, well. You deserve it.”

After a beat, nobody’s moved.

Jungkook realizes this after a few seconds of silence. They’re both still standing there, neither of them making a move to leave or—well, do anything.

And Nari’s just staring at him.

Like she’s waiting.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, suddenly a little nervous to ask. But then, quietly, hesitantly, he whispers—

“So… what are we doing then?” His voice is barely audible. “Like, uh—what’s the plan?”

Nari grins.

“Alright, listen up, loser,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to the supermarket. You’re gonna get flowers. I’m gonna get her favorite snacks. You’re also gonna buy her a fucking plushie—whatever one we can find in the goddamn store. Then, we’re driving to her apartment. You’re going to stand in front of her door. I’m going to push you inside and slam the door. Got it?”

She blurts it all out so fast that Jungkook just… blinks. “Wait,” he says slowly. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Nope. Don’t care.”

Jungkook frowns. “That’s a lot,” he insists. “That—feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Nari huffs. “I don’t care. If this is what you both really want—which it clearly is—then I’m making it happen. I don’t care if she hates me for it. We’re doing it.”

Jungkook hesitates. Then he nods, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he mutters. “Okay, fine.”

Nari claps her hands together. “Great. Where’s your car?”

Jungkook hesitates again. Then, instead of answering, he turns… and kneels down into the grass.

For the second damn time today.

“Wait,” he says, reaching for the ground. “I need to pick the flowers from here.”

Nari squints. “What.”

“I need to pick them from here,” he repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Nari just stares at him. “Jungkook, we do not have time for this.”

“Supermarket flowers are dead and lifeless,” he argues. “These have meaning.”

“Oh my God,” Nari groans. “We are literally about to have a whole-ass argument over flowers.”

“They’re not just flowers,” Jungkook insists, still kneeling in the grass. “They’re her flowers.”

Nari physically throws her head back in frustration. “Jungkook, I swear to God, get your sentimental ass up—”

She lunges forward and drags him up by his hoodie. Jungkook groans in protest, but she doesn’t let go until she’s physically forcing him toward the car.

And finally, finally, they drive to the supermarket.

Jungkook hates it here.

He stares at the saddest display of dead flowers, muttering to himself about how they have “no-life-having-ass” energy. Eventually, he just grabs the next best thing—the least ugliest daisies, which don’t even smell good.

“These are dying.” He pouts, turning the bouquet in his hand.

“Like your relationship,” Nari retorts “C’mon.”

Nari watches him grumble to himself with an exasperated sigh before grabbing a basket and aggressively pelting it full of your favorite snacks.

Jungkook eyes the growing pile, suspicious. “This is a lot,” he points out.

“Yeah?” Nari says, completely unbothered.

“I feel like some of this is for you,” he squints.

“Obviously,” Nari deadpans. “Now go pay.”

And he does.

They’re barely back in the car for one minute before Nari’s eyes widen.

“WAIT—”

Jungkook nearly slams on the brakes. “What?”

“You forgot the fucking plushie!” she screeches, smacking his arm.

Jungkook’s eyes bulge. “Shit.”

“GO BACK! GO BACK RIGHT NOW!”

“What?! Nari—*”

“Jungkook, go back before I throw myself out of this car!”

He panics. Without thinking, he throws the car into reverse and zooms back into the parking lot, nearly missing a traffic cone on the way. He parks so fast that the tires squeal against the pavement.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Nari yells.

Jungkook barely hears her—he’s already sprinting back inside the supermarket, dodging carts and random shoppers like he’s in a goddamn action movie.

He skids to a stop in the toy aisle, eyes darting wildly over the selection. “Shit, shit, shit—”

And then, he sees it.

A tiny, bright yellow plushie in the shape of a flower. Clearly a toy meant for toddlers, but he doesn’t care. He grabs it and rushes back to the register, swiping his card so fast that the cashier blinks at him like he’s insane.

By the time he throws himself back into the car, he’s out of breath. “Okay, got it,” he pants, shoving it in Nari’s direction.

Nari blinks down at the obviously kids plushie.

“Whatever, this will do,” she decides.

Jungkook frowns, still catching his breath. “You think she’ll still love it?”

Nari snorts. “Honestly?” She shrugs. “She’ll like anything that’s yellow and squishy.”

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling to himself. “She definitely would.”

——

The drive to your apartment is excruciating.

Jungkook grips the wheel like it’s his lifeline, knuckles white, jaw tight. The flowers and snacks sit on Nari’s lap, but she’s unbothered, scrolling through her phone, humming along to the radio.

Casual. Carefree. Like she’s not about to shove him into the biggest confrontation of his life.

Then—

Crunch.

Jungkook snaps his head to the side.

Nari is eating.

His fucking snacks.

“Nari.”

She glances at him, mid-chew. “What?”

Jungkook glares. “Seriously?”

She shrugs, taking another bite. “You got extras.”

Jungkook sighs, exasperated. “They’re for her.”

“It’s fine,” she says, waving him off. “She’s not gonna eat all of them at once. Jesus.”

Jungkook grips the wheel tighter. He should be focusing on the fact that he’s about to beg for his life. That he’s got one chance left before you walk out of his world forever.

But no.

He’s watching Nari inhale a family-sized bag of chips.

The injustice.

By the time they arrive, Jungkook is practically hyperventilating. The second the car stops, he reaches for the gear shift.

“I’ll come back tomorrow—”

Nari lunges.

She yanks the keys from the ignition, snatching them so fast he doesn’t even see her hand move.

Jungkook gawks.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Nari says, shoving open her door. “You’re doing this now.”

Jungkook stays seated.

Nari pauses. Then— “Get the fuck out of the car, Jungkook.”

Jungkook doesn’t move. Nari sighs. “Do you want me to drag you? Because we know how that went last time.”

“…Maybe.”

“Jesus Christ.” She yanks open his door, gripping his arm and physically pulling him out. Jungkook whines.

“Nari, I can’t—”

“You will.”

He digs his heels into the pavement.

“I need a second—”

“You don’t.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow—”

“You won’t.”

She drags him up the stairs. Jungkook stumbles, nearly dropping the daisies. By the time they reach your door, Jungkook is panting. He shakes his head, gripping the flowers like they might save him.

Nari rounds on him. “You have one week now, Jungkook. One. And you spent the past week, all of it doing stupid shit.”

Jungkook stares at the door, stomach twisting. “I—”

Nari doesn’t wait. She knocks.

Jungkook freezes.

The wait is excruciating.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

I'm HERE 👋🏻 and a big fan of these because I loove to talk about myself 😼

3 🚢: Scorbus obviously. I then took a good 15 minutes trying to remember any other form of media I've ever engaged with and enjoyed 💀 uhhh. Korra and Asami, dear god I love them and Korra has never done anything wrong ever actually idc. Anndd most recent one has been Jayvik probably (but in a not insufferable way I promise)

1st 🚢: that's so long ago, desperately trying to remember back in the day. I'm gonna be so real it might have been Edward and Bella lmfao. I read the books at like 12 and was so invested man. Merlin and Arthur from BBC Merlin would be very close to my first as well I'm sure, I watched that as a child and I could see what was going on there thank you very much. Probably my first poly ship technically because I also loved Gwen and desperately wanted the three of them to run away together. Little me knew what was up, she just did not know the language lmao

last song 🎶: Within You by David Bowie. The Labyrinth soundtrack is unironically my favourite Bowie album, that movie slaps

favourite childhood 📖: omg Enid Blyton, I still have a bunch of Enid Blyton books! my favourite was Amelia Jane the ragdoll that came to life to be an absolutely menace, I definetely still have that downstairs. Or these 3 by Eva Ibbotson, I remember my mum reading them to me and it got me super into fantasy at an early age

currently reading 📖: The Fraud by Zadie Smith, it's "a historical novel set in 1873 England, exploring the real-life trial of the Tichborne Claimant, through the eyes of Eliza Touchet, a Scottish housekeeper and cousin to a failing novelist, and the story of Andrew Bogle, a former slave from Jamaica." according to the summary online. I'm about a third of the way in and I'm going to reference it in my dissertation 😌😌 which is due 16th May someone kill me. and, once it actually bloody arrives, I'll be reading Gallant by V.E.Schwab for my dissertation too 🤞🏻🤞🏻

Currently Watching 📺: By myself, I'm rewatching 911 lmao as the new series comes out, Buddie is going to be canon I SWEAR. With my fiance, I'm making them watch The Hobbit all the way through because they've never seen it before. I just finished making them watch Hannibal, they were a big fan.

Currently Craving: Grapes, my fiance bought really amazingly perfect red grapes yesterday and I'm dreaming of them I'm gonna go get some rn 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

Currently Eating 🍽 : the answer is about to be those amazing grapes

Pets🐍: My absolute angel baby cornsnake Beatrice who has to live at my mums right now and who I miss dearly. Also my mum has a dog that could sort of count as mine called Luna

I'm yet again a wuss to tag anyone but if you've read this then that counts as a tag 🔫 this is a threat

Get to know the blogger

Thanks for the tag @faggylittleleatherboy

1. Three ships I like: jegulus (marauders), anderperry (dead poets society), narlie (heartstopper)

2. First ship ever: idk, probably Rapunzel and Flynn Rider

3. Last song you listened to: Kill For You - Gigi Perez

4. Fav childhood book: The Magic Faraway Tree - Enid Blyton

5. Currently reading: The King's Men - Nora Sakavic

6. Currently watching: Greys Anatomy

7. Currently craving: Dominoes pizza

8. Currently consuming: just had some water

9. Pets: I'm not allowed pets where I live, but I have a cat back home

npt @zsrntyouil @mairon-goth-minion @mushroom-enby @wishiwereheather13 @overthemoons7 @equippedtolove @andytheoverthinker @woefulstar @cbartonscoffee + anyone else

[pennyellee]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐗 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, rest is reduce to avoid spoilers

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count for the preview: 570

release date: 31/3/25

author's note: Here we are—the last chapter, the last descent into the chaos, but this time, we are at the very end. some truths are meant to be uncovered, others are meant to stay buried. watch closely—every word, every glance, every silence. nothing is ever just what it seems. thank you for reading, theorising, and indulging in the madness with me. thank you for being patient, and thank you to all of you who will only discover lacrimosa in the future. we'll meet again. in 1996.

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 - 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐗 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

"Tragic," Luen Hanyu murmured as he stepped beside Yoongi, his voice smooth as silk. "A man dying in such a manner. And at such a critical time."

Yoongi turned his head slightly, offering nothing in return.

"Your wife," Luen continued, his tone turning thoughtful, "is quite the woman. To endure such a burden, to act so decisively… it is impressive."

Yoongi's fingers curled slightly at his sides, but he did not react otherwise. He knew what this was. A test. A probe. The Luens wanted to see how much control he still had. If he would falter. If Dove was truly devoted to the clan, if she answered to him.

"This is the second time you have expressed your interest in my wife Hanyu, do I need to remind you of the consequences of such words?"

Yoongi's voice was calm, almost dangerously so, as he fixed his gaze on Luen Hanyu. His silence, though, carried the weight of years of power and the unspoken promise of retribution for those who dared to challenge or even insinuate anything against his claim his father fought hard for him to have.

"Well, I could argue that I have expressed my interest even back then when you swept her before Yamamotos could, but that would be an unfair reflection of the true nature of our conversation, wouldn't it?" Luen Hanyu's voice remained smooth, his eyes never wavering from Yoongi's.

"I only admire your choice, Yoongi. A woman like her—resilient, intelligent… she would have been a valuable ally, asset if you wish, in any other circumstances." Luen Hanyu smiled, a thin, calculated curve of his lips that did not reach his eyes. Yoongi's gaze narrowed, his expression hardening as his lips pressed into a thin line. The underlying message in Hanyu's words was unmistakable—there was a power struggle, one that had existed long before he had ever claimed Dove as his. The Luens were not the type to give up their pursuit so easily.

"It would be a shame to see that strength misdirected, wouldn't you agree?"

The ceremony around them continued as if unaffected by their exchange, but Yoongi could feel every second of it. He knew Hanyu was playing a dangerous game, pushing boundaries, testing limits—but Yoongi would not be moved so easily. Not when it came to Dove.

"I didn't 'sweep' her, Hanyu," Yoongi replied, his voice low, but his tone carrying an unmistakable edge. "Y/N chose me. And in this life, that's all that matters."

"And I don't take kindly to threats disguised as compliments," Yoongi replied, his voice a low, threatening murmur. "Just as I don't take kindly to anyone forgetting their place."

For a moment, there was a flicker of something—perhaps a recognition of the danger in Yoongi's tone—but it was gone just as quickly. Luen Hanyu only offered a nod, as if conceding the point without actually backing down.

"Of course," he said, his voice once again smooth and composed. "I apologise if I overstepped, Yoongi. I meant no offence."

"Just remember, Kkangpae Min, a man who does not respect what is his will eventually lose it."

Luen Hanyu's smile remained, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. The challenge was not lost on him, and while he may have been the one to probe first, Yoongi was now the one making the rules.

"Perhaps," Yoongi shrugged, "but I'm not that kind of a man."

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction. Nor in this case, I'm a medical professional.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneybunny - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts - @seonghwaexile- @catlove83

[hwastarxo]

Hongjoong x GN reader

summary : GN reader reaches a low point in their mental health, and starts to take it out on themself and try to find an escape. eventually trying to attempt. Their boyfriend Hongjoong helps them work through things and get the help they need.

word count : 1387

genre : Angst, Comfort and Fluff

warnings : mentions of $H and urges, su1cide attempt and su1cidal thoughts

note : All reblogs/comments/reads/hearts are appreciated and I thank you for any of it ! if you have any feedback or thoughts I would love to hear 💗

this is a rewriting of multiple works of mine that were kinda shit :P and this is based on my own experience i had a couple months ago so i’m glad to finally outlet it and make light of it somehow :3

You tried your hardest to push through it.

The stress of everything in your life went from a small pressure, to a huge hurdle, doing simple things like even showering or brushing your teeth felt like a milestone impossible to reach.

You constantly changed the date, postponing the day you’d finally have the guts to finish it off.

It was nice looking for reasons to keep going, even with as little reasons as there were.

You couldn’t admit the real thing keeping you back was fear.

What if it didn’t work? What if you got hospitalized? Before, you were very afraid of death, even staying up at night trying to stop it from somehow happening randomly, but now?

You just crave it.

You know deep down you don’t really want to die, you just want to live a little less.

If you do this, won’t it make things better?, You thought to yourself.

Your struggle will finally be taken seriously.

The days turned into weeks, you gave up on the plan, just constantly remembering in the back of your head, the tools kept in the drawer, the items you planned to use.

You needed the right time, you didn’t want to make anyone worried.

Shortly but surely, the time had come, it wasn’t as planned as before, it was a spur of the moment thing.

The cuts littering your arm and thighs weren’t enough anymore, you needed something harsher, to get rid of the pain.

After you scrimmaged through the drawer in the corner of your room.

You finally grab the small bag of pills you stole, you were worried they wouldn’t be enough to do the job, but also fed up and just wanted to get it over with.

You sat on the bed, with the bag sitting right next to you and a bottle of water. “So this is it”, You thought to yourself, taking the pills one by one, throat feeling iffy after so many pills back to back, you wanted this yet felt so anxious right after.

Brain filled with regret, worry, panicked all of a sudden.

You wanted to die, but how can you be so afraid of death when it meets you?

You stayed awake for hours worrying, until you finally got the courage to go to sleep.

Waking up, it wasn’t enough pills, “how stupid”, You thought to yourself.

You worried so much just for nothing to work, You went on with your day in a bittersweet manner, maybe the pills needed more time to kick in?

Then as the day passed, you noticed the pills starting to take effect.

You couldn’t eat, you felt like throwing up.

“Am I okay?”

Your worry kicked in again.

You wanted this to be painless, so why is it hurting so much in every way?

You wish you listened to the warnings you got when doing your research.

Awake at 3:00 AM, looking up “Painless ways to die”, shortly to find out there’s little to no options.

Desperate is what describes you.

You were desperate to finally escape, you didn’t think of the little details enough, you didn’t think much at all.

Your stomach was in large amounts of pain, laid in bed wondering when it would stop, until you finally started to gag, and gag.

Your body finally threw up, sadly getting all over the sheets and covers, “Fuck, i’ll have to wash them”, You thought to yourself, the vomit up poured out of you, the remainders of the pills leaving your sickly body.

The dirty sheets staring at you was a dark reminder of what was done.

The worst part is you didn’t get what you wanted at all, none of it went your way as always.

No one cared, no one even noticed, you didn’t die, you didn’t get hospitalized, you didn’t even get one of those get well soon cards.

You simply don't mean enough to anyone to get things like that, You remind yourself of that all the time.

It somehow still hurts when that dark reminder comes back to you every time again.

You vowed to yourself from then to either get better completely.

Or to let yourself get completely worse.

You tiredly try to pull yourself up to somewhat function, it’s hardly working.

You should be happy, you're clean from self harm for over a month now, but why are those thoughts coming back?

You lack a reason to really start again, you grimace every time you see the white lines on your thighs, so why does it feel like the razor is calling your name?

You think about how it made you feel then, a little bit less alone, how relieving to have something to take your pain out on, you missed that.

Looking at the I Am Sober app on your phone, the “Congrats on staying clean!” message pops up and feels like a slap in the face.

Eyeing the razor sitting near the bathtub and then holding it in your hand.

“Have all these months been worth it? Am I worth it? What's wrong with me?”

The thoughts pour out as you quickly make the irrational decision that started it all.

“No, no, no, no!, what did I do?”

panicking as the cut was deeper than intended, not sure what to do, You pulled your pants up and quickly ran out the bathroom.

As you walked out, your boyfriend Hongjoong eyed you and quickly noticed the blood seeping through your sweatpants.

Hongjoong: Baby! What happened to you?

He quickly rushes to help, thinking it’s a small injury.

“I’m sorry, i messed up joongie”, You cried.

Hongjoong sits you down and grabs a first aid kit, as he rolls up your sweatpants leg, he realizes what happened, the other scars littered across your leg shining boldly, and dried blood from the recent cut.

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to react, so he focuses on cleaning it up and putting a bandaid on, after he finishes he pulls you into a deep hug.

“I didn’t mean to go that deep” You plead

Hongjoong: It’s okay, I'm here, gonna get you the help you need.

”But- Joongie, I don't feel like I deserve help, I did this to myself”

I'm worthless.”

Your deepest insecurities are finally on full display to him.

Hongjoong: It’s not your fault baby, you’re so much more loved than you realize, it’s gonna get better, I’ll be right here to help you through it.

I-I'm not here to judge you, I don’t fully understand it myself but, i wanna see you happy. I wanna see you get better and I'll do what I can to get you there.

Hongjoong’s voice breaks up as he tries not to cry while speaking.

“I’ll go clean up and get the razors thrown away, just get some rest for now, we can talk more about getting you in therapy in a minute. And I love you, okay?”

“Don’t forget that, don’t let the stupid voices in your head even try to convince you otherwise, I love you so much and I always will.”

“This doesn’t make me see you any different at all, the scars are just part of your story, a small chapter in the book.”

“It’s gonna get better, I promise you.”

Hongjoong mutters, his lips quiver as he holds the tears back.

He rubs your back while hugging you the whole time as he speaks, offering you the comfort you deeply craved.

You silently nod and accept this new step in your recovery journey.

[unlimitedlust]

Cleanse Me With Pleasure - Bill Skarsgard x Reader (part 3) (+18)

(The image above does not belong to me, all credits belong to its owner)

Author’s note:

I’d like to thank again all of you who have read, liked, reblogged, and reached out to me about the previous parts of this short story. Your support and feedback mean the world to me, and I truly appreciate every comment and every interaction 💐🥰

Here’s the third and final part, I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimers:

Pure smut head. Pure. SMUT. This is 4.8K words of smut. Unprotected p in v (wrap it up in real life)

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes I eventually skipped while proof-reading it.

Bill Skarsgard is a real person, but nothing in this story is, it was all made up in my head.

I hope you enjoy your time here and if you do, please feel free to leave a comment or just like and/or reblog the story, I really appreciate it and your feedback is what gives me the fuel to keep writing ❤️❤️❤️

WC: 4.8K

Tag request: @paraficwriter @malenoradgn

End of Author’s note.

-0-

Your back hit the floor-to-ceiling window with a soft gasp, the cool glass a stark contrast to the searing heat of Bill’s body against yours. His lips were relentless, devouring yours like he was trying to pull every breath from your lungs, like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had completely consumed you. His hands roamed over your body with purpose, gripping, claiming, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wanted to fuse you to him.

Fingers rough with hunger traced the thin straps of your dress, dragging them over your shoulders, and the delicate silk skimmed down your body, pooling at your waist. Cool air kissed your bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the way his heated gaze burned into you.

Bill pulled back just enough to look, his breath uneven as his hands covered your breasts, squeezing, teasing. His thumbs brushed over your hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers, watching the way your body reacted to his touch. He let out a dark, satisfied sound before dipping his head, lips closing over one stiff peak as his other hand played with the neglected one. His tongue flicked and soothed, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper, to send a sharp pulse of pleasure straight between your thighs.

Your head fell back against the window with a soft thud, your spine arching, body begging for more, for anything, for everything.

Heat coiled low in your stomach, desire curling tight as you dragged your trembling hands up his torso, over his shirt, undoing the buttons on their way up and your nails scraping along the taut muscle of his abs on their way down. His stomach tensed under your touch, a shudder rolling through him as you traced the waistband of his pants, teasing him the way he had teased you.

You made quick work of his belt, the soft clink of metal lost in the haze of heavy breathing and need. His button popped open beneath your fingers, and the moment your palm pressed against him through the fabric, his entire body stiffened. A sharp hiss left his lips, his beautiful green eyes snapping to yours, darker now, stormy with want and something more dangerous, something unforgiving.

Eager to see what you had in mind, Bill exhaled hard, jaw tightening as he released your body, his hands bracing against the cool glass behind you. Muscles flexed, tension rippled through his frame as he watched you sink to your knees before him, slow, deliberate, a wicked smirk playing on your lips. You knew what you were doing to him.

The space between you vibrated with anticipation, thick with the knowledge that this was only the beginning.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and underwear at once, glancing up at him through your lashes. The sight above you made your breath hitch, his sculpted torso rising and falling, every inch of him taut with restraint, his face the perfect picture of raw, carnal hunger.

You tugged his clothes down, torturously slow, savoring every second of his unraveling. And then fuck.

His cock sprang free, thick, hard, the tip already glistening with precum. A fresh wave of heat rolled through you, your mouth going dry and watering all at once. He was big, every inch of him matching the height and strength that towered over you, and the thought of what was to come made your thighs squeeze together instinctively and you pussy throb in expectation. He was going to ruin you.

Bill’s gaze turned impossibly darker as he watched you take him in, his hands curling into fists against the window, fighting the instinct to bury them in your hair and just take what he needed. His self-control was razor-thin. He wanted to let you have your moment, to let you tease and play with him, but the moment you so much as hesitated? He’d make you pay for every second.

And God, you wanted him to.

Your nails dragged lightly over his thighs, teasing the sensitive skin as you leaned in closer. The tip of your tongue rested against your bottom lip before you flicked it out, swiping up the bead of precum that had gathered at his tip. Just the lightest taste made him shudder, his jaw clenching as he fought the urge to push deeper into your mouth.

You looked up at him then, locking eyes, reveling in the hunger darkening his gaze. You loved this, loved the control you had in this moment, the way you could unravel him with nothing more than your mouth and your hands. Holding him steady, you flattened your tongue against the underside of his shaft and dragged it from base to tip slowly, tracing every ridge and vein. When you reached the head, you circled it lazily, savoring his quiet, strained grunt before finally parting your lips around him.

The warmth of your mouth sent a tremor through him. His head tipped back, his breath coming in sharp bursts as you worked him deeper, taking more with each slow descent. Your cheeks hollowed around him, the slick heat of your tongue and the rhythm of your hand ensuring that not an inch of him was neglected.

He was big and stretched the limits of what you could take, but you weren’t about to stop, not when he sounded like that, when his muscles tensed, and his fingers twitched in your hair. When you finally pushed past the discomfort in your jaw and took him to the back of your throat, the deep, broken moan that tore from his chest was its own reward. His fingers tangled into your hair, guiding, encouraging, but it was still you in control. And God, you loved it. You loved watching him fall apart, seeing him lose himself completely to you.

When you pulled away for air, your lips were slick, swollen, aching, but you didn’t hesitate to take him in again. His hips began to move with you, slow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your mouth, each one pushing deeper, more desperate.

“Fuck my face, Bill,” you breathed, voice wrecked, eyes hazy as you pulled back just enough to beg. “Ruin me.”

His restraint snapped.

Bill’s grip in your hair tightened, the sudden pull making your scalp prickle, forcing your gaze up to meet his. The flicker of something dark in those green eyes sent a shiver down your spine. His jaw clenched, chest rising and falling with measured breaths, but you could feel it, he was barely holding on.

“Remember you asked for this.” He murmured, voice rough and wrecked.

And then he took.

His hips snapped forward, thrusting deep, forcing you to take every inch of him, filling your mouth so completely that your breath hitched. His grip in your hair held you exactly where he wanted, keeping you in place as he set the pace, slow at first, dragging himself out almost completely before thrusting back in, making sure you felt every inch.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice thick with lust, eyes locked onto the way you knelt before him, taking him so well. His free hand cupped your jaw, thumb pressing against the bulge he made in your throat as he pushed deeper, watching, fascinated, as you struggled to swallow around him. “Such a good girl,” He pulled out so just the tip was on your tongue “a good” he pushed in, out and in again “girl”

The praise in sync with his thrusts earned him a strangled moan that vibrated around him, and when he felt it, his control snapped to another degree. His thrusts quickened, his movements got rougher, more desperate. He needed this, needed to hear you gag, needed to feel you tremble beneath him, needed to claim you like this before he lost the last shred of himself completely.

Tears pricked at your lashes, saliva dripped from the corners of your mouth, but you took it all, let him use you exactly the way he wanted, let him fuck deeper into the wet heat of your throat, making you choke around him, because that’s what turned you on. His groan was low, guttural, his head tipping back as his fingers flexed in your hair.

He was close. His other hand cupped your face, tilting your chin slightly, making sure your eyes stayed on him. “Open wide.”

The demand sent another wave of heat between your legs and at this point you could feel your arousal starting to run down your thigh. Your lips parted instinctively as he pulled back, teasing, just for a second. And then he thrust forward on one last time, his release hitting him hard, his groan low and wrecked as he spilled onto your waiting tongue.

His grip slackened, his breath ragged, his muscles taut as he watched you, patiently waiting for every drop of cum he had to offer. And you didn’t break eye contact as you swallowed every last drop once he was done.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers traced your swollen lips and his eyes looked at you in raw awe and devotion.

His breathing was still heavy as he pulled you up cupping your face, his touch gentle now, and you made sure to lick your way up across his sculpted abs before his lips met yours in a passionate kiss, all while he finished getting rid of his shirt and stepped out of his pants, lips never parting from yous.

His bare skin burned against yours, his body pressing into you as he guided you to his bed. His lips never left yours, not even as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Then, with effortless control, he turned you, pressing firmly between your shoulder blades until your chest met the mattress. A sharp inhale left your lips as you felt the heat of him at your back, his presence looming and possessive as he bent over you. His hands and lips traced over your shoulders, trailing wet kisses down your spine.

“Stay just like that,” he murmured, voice thick with command.

Your breath hitched as you felt the fabric of your dress, once pooled around your waist, sliding down your legs, a low, guttural sound coming from his chest at the sight of you, only your white lace panties and heels.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties, teasing, before he dragged them down your thighs, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as he watched how your soaked panties were sticking to your drenched folds, and how they now spread your wetness on your thighs and legs as he pulled them down.

The air was thick, charged with raw desire as he drank in the sight of you bent over his bed, utterly bare except for the heels still on your feet. His large hands caressed the back of your thighs, fingers trailing up the soft curve of your ass before gripping it, spreading you open just enough to make you shudder.

“Perfect,” he rasped, more to himself than to you.

Then his lips were on you.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a sharp gasp spilling from your lips, your fingers gripping the sheets as he dragged the wet heat of his mouth over your most sensitive spot. He groaned as he tasted you, his grip on your ass tightening, keeping you open for him as he devoured you from behind.

His tongue worked you over teasingly at first, before he dove in deeper, licking, sucking, drinking you down like he couldn’t get enough. His breath was hot against your skin, his moans vibrating through you as he buried himself between your thighs.

Your legs trembled and your moans could be heard by anyone in the other rooms around you but you just didn’t care. The heels on your feet forced you to stay elevated, ass up, your body entirely at his mercy. He spread you open wider, his tongue working deeper, until your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

Just when the pleasure became overwhelming, he pulled back, leaving you panting, on the edge, aching for more. His teeth sank into one of your ass cheeks before his hands caressed your hips, sliding up your sides as he straightened, guiding you onto the bed.

“Lay back,” he murmured as crawled on the bed to join you.

Your body melted against the sheets, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open.

The hunger in his eyes sent a new wave of heat straight to your core as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, holding you in place as he lowered his mouth back onto you. The stroke of his tongue was calculated, with just the right amount of pressure, sending a shudder through your entire body.

You raked your fingers through his hair as his own traced over your inner thighs before slipping between your folds, coating them in your arousal before thrusting them into you, one, then two, deep and in perfect rhythm with his tongue.

You moaned, arching into his touch, and he only went harder, faster, curling his fingers inside you, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your sensitive clit. The pleasure built, higher, hotter, until your stomach tensed, your entire body straining toward release, and then he slowed down on purpose.

A frustrated whimper left your lips, your hips lifting instinctively, chasing the pleasure he had so cruelly stolen. But his grip held firm, his breath warm against your swollen, aching flesh as he looked up at you devilishly.

He loved watching you squirm, but he was letting you have your own fun this time, after all you deserved it.

His mouth latched onto your clit again, sucking deep, his fingers thrusting harder, curling just right, pushing you straight over the edge. Your back arched violently off the bed, your cry breaking into a strangled moan as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, your entire body shaking with the force of it.

Yet, Bill didn’t stop, not until you were wrecked, panting, your body laying limp against the sheets, utterly undone beneath him.

His lips glistened as he kissed his way up your body, his weight pressing over you, his mouth capturing yours in a slow, consuming kiss.

“You taste even better when you break for me.” He whispered against your lips and then kissed them again.

Bill hovered over you, his breath still uneven, his lips swollen from kissing you. His weight pinned you to the bed, his body pressing between your parted thighs, the thick heat of him resting heavily against your slick folds.

“You’re trembling” his lips grazed your jaw. His fingers traced down your sides, soothing, worshipping, before gripping your hips, anchoring you beneath him.

Your thighs clenched around his waist, your body craving him, but he didn’t rush. Instead, he leaned back, running his hands over your curves, his green eyes dark with hunger.

“Come here,” he rasped.

With effortless strength, he flipped you onto him, pulling you up until you straddled him. His cock pressed against you, thick and heavy, teasing your entrance as his hands guided you into place.

Even wrecked, even with your body still trembling from the way he had just consumed you, you wanted more. You needed more.

His grip on your waist was firm, controlling, keeping you exactly where he wanted. “Nice and slow” he ordered, his voice low, commanding, but laced with something softer beneath it.

He lifted you slightly, aligning himself with your entrance, and then he pulled you down slowly, but just an inch.

You gasped, your nails digging on his chest as he stretched you open, the sheer size of him forcing your body to adjust, to feel him in every way possible.

“That’s it” His hands guided your hips, not allowing you to take more just yet “Feel me.”

He kept you there, barely seated on him, the tip of his cock stretching you, teasing you, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your core. He controlled the rhythm, rocking his hips just enough to make you whimper, to make you desperate to sink lower. But he didn’t let you.

You bit your bottom lip, panting, your body twitching in his grasp. “Bill, please”

His grip tightened and he lifted you again, only to ease you back down, stretching you open, making you take him in slowly, to feel him inch by inch, thick and throbbing as he filled you completely, and when he bottomed you out you never felt so full.

When he was finally buried to the hilt, a deep groan tore from his throat. His fingers dug into your hips, his head tipped back against the pillows, his control fraying.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, his breath ragged.

You clenched around him, adjusting, the fullness of him making you shudder. His hands guided you, rocking you forward just slightly, testing, making you feel the way he pressed against every sensitive spot inside you.

And then, something shifted. The initial ache faded, giving way to something hotter, needier. A slow smirk curled at your lips as you rolled your hips again, this time taking over the control, dragging yourself over him in a slow, deep grind.

His breath hitched. His fingers flexed. His eyes snapped open, dark and burning, but you didn’t give him a chance to take control again. You lifted yourself slightly, letting his length slip almost all the way out, before sinking back down, harder, deeper, making sure to clench around him, so he felt every inch of your slick, pulsing heat.

His jaw clenched. A guttural sound escaped him. You had him.

You set the rhythm now, rolling your hips, taking him how you wanted, controlling every movement. You straightened yourself on top of him and leaned back seductively. His eyes driking in the sight above him hungrily, travelling from your sexed face, to your bouncing breasts and to your pussy swallowing him whole.

His hands still gripped your waist, but now he was desperate. One of them moved up your body and found your boob, squeezing it in a demanding way between his fingers, needing you to move faster, deeper. His head fell back, his chest rising and falling, his lips parting, he looked like a fucking work of art.

“Fuck,” he groaned “ride me”

Your pace quickened, grinding down on him with deliberate rolls of your hips, watching the way his jaw tensed, his fingers twitching against your skin as he fought the urge to take over. His green eyes burned into yours, heavy with lust.

You braced your hands on his chest, pinning him against the bed as you rode him harder, deeper, angling yourself to take him exactly how you wanted. His cock pulsed inside you, hot and thick, and when you clenched around him just right, a guttural groan ripped from his throat. His fingers flexed against your waist, a warning.

“Slow down” he gritted out, his control fraying.

But you didn’t. You dragged yourself over him in a torturous rhythm, bouncing on him in a way that made his head fall back against the pillows, his lips parting, his breath ragged. His hands gripped your waist tighter, fighting the pleasure threatening to consume him.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come” he warned, his voice dark, rough, barely holding on.

You smirked, rolling your hips again, pushing him closer, reveling in the way his muscles tensed beneath you, how his abs flexed with every movement. He was unraveling. And you loved it.

But he didn’t want this to end yet so, in a flash, you were no longer on top.

He flipped you effortlessly, pulling you off his lap and pressing you forward onto all fours, your knees sinking into the mattress. His hands were rough as he positioned you in front of the mirror across the bed, pressing you down on the bed, leaving your ass at his full disposal.

“As much as I’d love having you milk me dry while you’re on top, I’m not fucking done with you yet” His voice was a low growl as he leaned over you to whisper in your ear, dangerous and full of promise as he slid his cock against your soaked entrance, both hands splayed over your ass cheeks “Now, eyes on the mirror, watch me have my way with you”

With one unforgiving thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you open in a new way that stole your breath. Your mouth parted in a silent gasp, your fingers gripping the sheets as he filled you completely, deeper than before, hitting something devastating inside you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as he leaned over you, his chest flush against your back. “Look how perfect you take me.”

You moaned, your body shaking as he set a slow, punishing pace, at first, pulling out almost completely before sinking back in, making you feel every inch of him. Until he set a new, relentless pace that turned you into a loud moaning mess.

His hand tangled in your hair and pulled you up, your back meeting his chest as he kept pounding hard into you from behind. You braced your hands on his thighs behind you for support and tilted your head over his shoulder, overwhelmed by the pleasure of having him fucking you so good, your jaws slack as you felt completely cock drunk under his hold.

“Keep watching.” he demanded, his voice low and deep.

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, and a sudden, electric surge coursed through you, an unspoken force tethering you to him, raw and undeniable.

His hands travelled over your body, one of them grabbing a handful of one of your breasts, and the other wrapping around your waist, keeping you pressed against him as he drove into you, each thrust rougher, deeper, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. His lips brushed your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

“You love this, don’t you?” His voice was rough, wrecked. “Being fucked like this. Taking me like this.”

You whimpered, barely able to speak, but he didn’t need you to answer. He could feel it, the way you clenched around him, the way your body trembled, desperate, needy.

And then his hand on your waist slid lower. His fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, pushing you higher, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. He felt the way you tensed, the way you tried to hold back, but he didn’t let you. His arm tightened around you, keeping you flush against him as his pace quickened, his thrusts becoming desperate, relentless.

“I want you to watch yourself coming on my cock” he whispered against your skin, his raspy tone along with the image in front of you almost sending you over the edge.

And when he slammed into you again, when his fingers pressed against your clit just right, your body shattered. Pleasure tore through you, stronger than the first one he gave you, overwhelming, consuming, your walls clenching around him as you came hard, your head falling back against his shoulder.

But still Bill wasn’t done with you. Even as your body trembled, spent and oversensitive, he kept you locked against him, buried deep inside you. His breath was ragged against your ear, his arms strong around you, his cock still thick and unyielding as he started moving again.

A sharp whimper tore from your lips, your body twitching at the overstimulation. “Bill” your voice wavered, half a plea, half a broken moan. “It’s too much, I can’t…”

But you didn’t push him away. It was too much, but you wanted more. Your nails only dug into his arms, your body arching against him, needing more even as you trembled from how much he’d already given you.

His grip tightened, his lips brushing the side of your neck, the corner of your jaw. “You can,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. “You will.”

His hands slid to your hips, guiding you forward as he pulled out of you slowly, only to turn you in his arms. Your back hit the mattress, your legs still shaking as he settled between them, his tall and broad frame hovering you.

The moment his cock dragged against your soaked entrance, a helpless moan spilled from your lips. Your body shuddered, your thighs trying to clamp around him, but he pinned them apart, watching you.

“Look at you,” he muttered, almost in awe. “So fucked-out, and you still want more.”

You whimpered, lost in the haze of pleasure, completely at his mercy. “Bill, please…”

His lips curled. His hands gripped your thighs as he pushed himself inside again, stretching you all over, filling you to the hilt. “You can give me one more, can’t you?”

You nodded desperately, your breath stuttering as he set a deep, steady rhythm, dragging himself out, pushing back in, making you feel every inch of him. His green eyes burned into yours, focused, determined, watching every reaction, every tremor that ran through you.

His hand slid up your throat, fingers wrapping around the delicate column, firm but careful. The pressure wasn’t suffocating, just enough to make you hyperaware of every sensation, of the way his cock filled you, the way your pulse pounded against his palm, the way his green eyes darkened as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, tightening his grip just enough to make your breath hitch, to make the pleasure sharpen into something almost unbearable. “So fucking perfect like this.”

The lack of air only heightened everything, the heat pooling low in your belly, the dizzying rush, the way your body clenched desperately around him. And when he loosened his grip just slightly, letting you gasp in a ragged breath, the sensation crashed over you like a tidal wave, your moan breaking into something helpless, something wrecked.

“Where do you want it?” He rasped, his thumb brushing over your fluttering pulse, feeling every tremor, every surrender. “Tell me.”

Your head spun, pleasure tightening in your core, white-hot and unbearable. The answer tumbled from your lips before you could think twice.

“Inside,” you gasped, nails raking down his back. “I have an IUD. Inside.”

Bill let out a deep, guttural groan at your answer, his thrusts turning frantic, almost punishing. His grip on your hips was bruising, his breath rough and uneven. “Fuck” he gritted out, burying himself to the hilt. “You’re gonna let me fill you up? You want to take all of me?”

You moaned helplessly, nodding, and that was it, his last thread of restraint snapped. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, determined.

“I want to feel it, want to feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up.”

The words, the pace, the way he hit every devastating spot inside you, it was too much. Pleasure slammed hard into you again, knocking the breath from your lungs, making your whole body seize as you came with a broken cry, your walls clenching tight around him.

Bill’s groan was pure sin, his last thrusts deep and erratic as he finally let go, his body shuddering as he spilled inside you, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight as he buried his face in your neck, groaning your name like a prayer.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy, uneven breathing.

Then, slowly, Bill eased out of you, his touch instantly turning gentle. You shuddered at the loss, but before you could protest, he was already moving, already pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

He climbed out of bed and got a towel to clean you up carefully, and as he did so his eyes lingered between your legs, watching his cum run down your pussy, the sight making him bite his own lip before he finally finished cleaning you.

You sighed as he then laid by your side and pulled you in his arms, and you melted into the warmth of his touch, your body too spent to move.

A quiet moment passed before he spoke, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “This can’t be just one night.”

Your chest tightened. You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

“No,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “It can’t, and it won’t”

Bill exhaled, something shifting in his expression. He reached your face, tracing his fingers along your jaw before pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips.

“Now get some rest,” he murmured, his green eyes burning into yours, “because I’m not done with you.”

And neither were you.

[lizzable]

Thanks for the tag @silvrash-797, this is going to be very funny as I am a baby rolling around on a keyboard with barely anything written.

1. How many works on AO3? 3

2. Total AO3 word count? 115,640, almost entirely on DLH

3. Top 5 fics by kudos:

I only have three fics! So they're ALL top five!!

Number one is obviously Don't Lose Heart with 307 kudos, which is an LU fic about Wild popping in a cursed earring which makes him very vulnerable and how that bums everyone out. Lot of angst, bit of action, long af. Really enjoying writing it. Started it two months ago.

Number two is Done enough with 49 kudos. It's a Critical Role fic centred on Fresh Cut Grass and written right after his [redacted] <- if you know you know. It's sad.

Number three is Aeorian Dreamer with 38 kudos. Another Critical Role fic, also about Fresh Cut Grass. It's got the fall of Aeor in it but WAY before that was a series so it's dubiously lore accurate.

4. What fandoms do you write for? Zelda (specifically Linked Universe) and Critical Role. But at the moment, just Zelda.

5. Do you respond to comments? All of them. Unless they get into massive threads which happens sometimes lately. Arguing about whether Wars or Wild is better, good god that one got violent.

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: Done enough, because it's about [fucking redacted] come on

7. Fic with the happiest ending: Happy endings?? I have two angsty endings and one ongoing work, which will either have a happy ending or a bittersweet ending depending on how intense the comments get.

8. Do you get hate? Not yet! COME AT ME I CAN TAKE IT

9. Do you write smut? I don't even know what sex is guys. Nah, I just write my characters being traumatised by sex pests.

10. Do you write crossovers? Not yet!

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Can you imagine???? Give me another three years to make a good portfolio before robbing me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? If I ever see a fic of mine translated at any point in the future you can take me out the back and shoot me because my life will not get any better.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Listen, moots who are writers, we can make cool things happen if you just believe.

14. All-time favorite ship? Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth were made for each other. Look up NaruMitsu.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I only have one WIP and if I don't finish it, it's because I'm dead.

16. Writing strengths? Probably speed. And lack of self control. I tend to get chapters out pretty rapidly thanks to my inability to control myself and focus on real world things.

17. Writing weaknesses? Probably speed. And lack of self control. I tend to put chapters out too quick to edit them properly and impulsively due to said lack of self control.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? Always a bummer to get into a fic only to find you can't read half of it. But it's very cool that people can write that stuff.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Omg this is a deep cut but I wrote a One Piece fanfiction when I was 14, long lost now.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? Don't Lose Heart by a mile. I don't mind reading it back, that's how much I like it. Usually reading my own writing makes me throw up.

Tagging: @bepisbee @katastrophic-n3vulaa @fithesworddweller @starwolfie and other writing moots, show me what you got!

I have been tagged by @batrogers!!

1. How many works on AO3? 241

2. Total AO3 word count? 1.25mil. Almost to my 3rd AO3 anniversary :D (that's around 1,170 words every day for three years, not counting nonpublished words! Proud of that rate, even if it's slowing.)

3. Top 5 fics by kudos:

Status? about Four. I think this one hits the sweet spot for a lot of people: not too long, a bit angsty, but sweet.

so i admit that the mud didn't do much for me, about Hyrule. Actually the first fic I ever posted on this account, it's silly and I'm surprised to see it so high

incandescently happy, a post-LU happy ending. Posted little chapters every day for like a month which kept it in people's feeds so I think that's why it's so high

what is a stump supposed to do, a random Hyrule & Four one, honestly baffled why it's up here

Rise and Shine and Fall, my successful (by that I mean actually wrote and posted every day on schedule) Whumptober 2022 extravaganza compilation. I posted it all in one work, so it's higher than most other whump fics of mine, but there's a lot in it!

4. What fandoms do you write for? Zelda. In the past I wrote a tiny bit of Danny Phantom and a fair amount of FE3H!

5. Do you respond to comments? Always!! I admit to being SO VERY BEHIND right now, a couple months' worth. I'm trying to keep up on new ones, but I've had some beautiful wonderful readers going through my catalog and I can't always keep up!! XD

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: I don't write a lot of negative endings, so I think this badge goes to Counterbalance, my LU Darks AU. I'm actually fully in love with this fic, it's probably the best mix of silly and angsty I've ever written. It's full of what are essentially OCs but they're all my babies and I love them.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: incandescently happy, post-LU. The whole fic is essentially a fix-it ending, though LU doesn't have an ending yet. XD

8. Do you get hate? A couple silly comments trying to tell me I'm doing things wrong, but not really no! Oh, also can't forget the ask I got that was "Remember that Jesus is your first reader." I think that was meant to be passive aggressive but there's a chance it was meant like, genuinely? Not sure.

9. Do you write smut? Nah. And I don't plan to. Not my thing! Closest I get are vampire bites XD

10. Do you write crossovers? I swear I've done more but the only ones on my AO3 are a Vidow fic done in an original world (Nothing New Under the Sun (crystals, dumplings, jewelry)), and Blood-Sucker's Guide to High School, a Vidow retelling of a very fun vampire novel.

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Nope, but I did have one of my Vidow fake fic book covers stolen for someone's fake fiverr listing. Got it taken down with a DMCA but I was like, why

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Oh plenty. @enrolio and I spent most of 2020-21 lockdowns and beyond cowriting, mostly original stories (1.7mil) but a lot of fic, too (nothing published, but almost 400k worth.) We're currently in the process of working on a big epic original fantasy series, though that's a long-term project. @batrogers and I have done a few alt-POV-type projects too, which have been super duper fun!! Hope to do more.

In that vein too, I feel like the Bad End Links kind of qualify here—so much of the characters and their stories were brainstormed collaboratively and so many friends have contributed details and fics and art, it feels like a fun group project! I've really enjoyed working on it. :D (the encouragement and hype for it also helps a lot!! I'm really hoping to finish this big project out!)

14. All-time favorite ship? Ahhhh a harder question than you'd think, tbh, even if you're limiting it to fic. I've written the most for Vidow, and they're definitely up there (same with Fourdow though I've done less with them.) I do have to admit that Linhardt/Byleth might take the cake, though. They were the first ship I was ever actually obsessed with, and the first romantic pairing I wrote in fic.

I just really adore Linny in general, and I love how the pairing continues and closes off some of the themes in the Crimson Flower route of FE3H. That's the only route where Byleth doesn't become archbishop-slash-dictator, and I think choosing to live life in a small cottage, not particularly contributing too much to the government, builds nicely upon the themes of becoming human and choosing your own destiny, themes that are really missing from the other routes.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My old AO3 account (a couple FE3H fics and not much else) has a series where I wrote the beginning of a fic and then had several different endings planned, each a different ship with Linhardt, but I only ever wrote one. I'd love to read the rest but I have too many other fics calling my name!

16. Writing strengths? Um... Volume and speed? Also AUs. I think I can call myself good at fitting characters into new settings. Also fight scenes are fun and I think I do them well.

17. Writing weaknesses? I feel somewhat weak in the plotting and style realms.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? You can't count on a reader to know not-tagged languages, so that has to be accounted for in the text.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Danny Phantom, in high school or maybe just after. That's late for a lot of fic writers but... there are reasons for that, and a different discussion!!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? This is an extremely rude question, because I love so many for different reasons. I write things I want to read!! Counterbalance (for the tone) and Blood-Sucker's Guide (for the finished novel plot) are up there but I linked them above, so I'll take the chance to call out a different few—Marvelous Misadventures is way up there, a Wind-focused modern with magic AU. I promise I'm still working on that last chapter (and the epilogue), I just gotta throw everything else aside one month and buckle down. Maybe June, I don't have any fic events planned and 06/23 was the last update. I think some earlier chapters need a refresh as well, once I have the ending written.

I'll also toss White Walls (medwhump, "non consensual body modification: the fic") into this category for how long it is and how proud I am to have finished even a collection this long, and a long walk, a Linked Nexus fic where I did so much math and had so much fun with it. :D

Tagging: @silvrash-797 @toyouhellohowareyou @nopenototdaysatan @skyward-floored :)

[jurassicpark1990]

realised i never posted any of my 2024 summaries for tv shows, movies and fanfic. i don't feel like making three separate posts so will condense it all in one post and then make a separate post about my 2025 goals <3

first up: tv shows

i watched 1156 episodes in total from 50 different series (less episodes and series than last year). of the 1156, i had already seen 922 of them which is a bit embarrassing tbh

the most watched in a month was 186 (in january) and the least was 48 (in december). i did try and track days but wasn't consistent

including rewatches, my most watched show was schitt's creek. excluding rewatches, my most watched show was the great british bake off lmao

my most watched episode was - for the second year in a row - currahee (episode one of band of brothers)

my top three genres were comedy, drama and scifi

in total i watched 41,424 minutes of tv this year! the four shortest episodes i watched were all 20 minutes long (an episode of the bear, one modern family episode and then two yu-gi-oh ones). the longest episodes were both two part pilots (DS9 and monk) but outside of that it was currahee

most episodes of tv i watched were released in 2016 (85). the average and median years of release were 2007 and 2008 respectively. the oldest episode was an episode of next gen from 1987 and i watched 24 episodes that were released in 2024

i did try rating each episode but i was a bit loosey goosey with it all and gave the vast majority five stars. i gave one episode of next gen (man of the people) a one star review because it was horrifically offensive lmao

next: movies

for the first time since i've tracked movie watching, i cracked 100 movies this year! specifically i watched 102. however.... only 12 of these were new to me :/ to put that in perspective there were 12 movies that i watched more than once this year

i watched three movies three times this year: the fellowship of the ring, the phantom menace and jurassic park

my biggest movie watching months were december (18 movies), june (17) and january (16). on the opposite end there were three months where i only watched three movies: may, august and july

the day i am least likely to watch a movie is wednesday! this is interesting because i had two classes on wednesday all year. so i wonder if it was a uni thing or a general middle of the week thing

my most watched genres were scifi, comedy and family/childrens

in total i watched 12,407 minutes of movies this year! the average length was 121 minutes but the shortest was 68 minutes (duck soup) and the longest was the extended version of the return of the king

the oldest movie i watched was duck soup (1933) and i watched three 2024 releases: despicable me 4 (with my nephew, i hated it), the merry gentlemen (with my friends, i hated it) and wallace & gromit: a vengeance most fowl (with my partner, loved it!). the average and median year of release were 2001 and 2002 respectively

my rating system is a bit more rigid with movies but i still gave approximately half five stars, which tracks with the amount of movies i rewatched tbh

finally: fanfic

i read 490 fics! based on the three years i've tracked this, it's a little bit less than average. i read 19 fics more than once (including one fic which i read five times.......) and about half of the fics were rereads (this is interesting to me and i defs wouldn't consider this standard for me)

i read from 33 fandoms this year, my top three were hockey (165), game of thrones (73) and inception (44). which is an absolutely hilarious combo in 2024

my top pairing was jaime/brienne (absolutely no surprise there). arthur/eames (inception) were third overall and the rest of my rop five were hockey (which i won't be sharing)

in total, i read about 4.5 million words - this is 1 million more than last year and 1 million less than the year before that, which is pretty neat imo. my longest fic was 73.133 words and then there were three under 100 words but they were all actually fan art. the average length was a little over 9k which is probably a little under my sweet spot tbh

the oldest fic was from 2004 and most fics were either published in 2023 or 2012. the second makes sense because of all the game of thrones and inception but not sure what was up with the 2023

my biggest reading month was october (91) and my smallest was september (21). this tracks with my uni schedule because all of my major assignments were due in september and then i was free lmao

now, a bit about the actual fics themselves: about half were about characters in developing relationships (makes sense) and a quarter were established relationship (something that i love to read tbh)

for rpf, only 5% of fics were future fics. this surprises me because i love and adore future fics but it might just be because there's not that many out there

for canon, there was a pretty even split between canon compliant and canon divergent fics (both around 35% in total) and then 23% were post canon

the most common trope that i read was apparently fluff. this does not sound right at all because i lowkey hate fluff

other popular tropes wereL polyamory, internalised bi/homophobia, amnesia and infidelity

i don't usually read AUs but the big ones were rule 63, trans characters, modern setting, soulmates and vampires. also lots of different time fuckery fics - time loops, time travel, multiverse fics and age regression - and i loved all of them

most of the pwp i read were either threesomes or first time which is a fun combo imo the other really big one i noticed was cunnilingus - shout out to all the game of thrones girlies who think jaime lannister eats mad pussy

there were 12 fics i didn't give kudos too - some were really old rpf and i got embarrassed about it and then the rest were my own fics that i reread

this was, by far, my worst year for commenting on fics. i'm beyond embarrassed about this. i think it was probably because i was rereading a lot of older fics but that's no excuse

this was my first year at attempting to rate fics. it was a bit of an odd exercise because i think it's odd to rate fanfic. however, it was fun for looking at my feelings towards tropes (remember how i read a bunch of fluff? well i didn't give a single fluff fic higher than 3 stars). i am going to keep doing this

now hey if you made it to the end, you're my fav <3

[xxcrumbxx]

Hello hello soo um im still workin on it ,ive been kinda burnt out from it an ik thers no real preshure and im wayyy past valintinse day but heres a wip of those silly lil valintines cards

Also today is my birth day im 22 now so .. Thats a thing. Anyway im planing on making like 3 alternet vershions of eclips 1 with the cannon tipical 2 arm pre decomishion desighn 1 with the 4 armed fannon /cannon design and 1 with the 4 armed ballone world desighn. Probly ganna take a bit but what ever it will be valintine in fuckin may who cares lol

[morrigan-sims]

who says adventurers can't dress cute?

aka: "I spent almost three hours giving Zen new outfits and took 140 screenshots of them."

[xxplastic-cubexx]

im not exaggerating when i say ive been staring at your newest twitter art for the past twenty minutes. i feel ill Why can i hear them

the thigh size difference, the codpiece, charles drooling and Shaking that man is Gone, mags' smug smile and uh. his uhm . Hes HUGE..... charles How do you take that thing and live to tell the tale... and mags' lil speech bubble, what filth could he be sayin..... much to think about, i think i hauve covid, THEY LOOK SO GOOD, apologies to your bro's sneakers but i for one am very happy with this outcome :3 as always thank you so much for your service 🫡🫡

thank you for the review on my doodles today!!!!! i looked deep into my soul and let it do the rest......

[thelingering]

*exasperated sigh lol* changeeeeee is hardddddd

[jianghushenanigans]

What are your favorite ships from Blood of Youths?

Hiiiiiiiii thank you for asking

I really like the canon ships for the main youths (Lei Wujie/Ye Ruoyi, Xiao Se/Sikong Qianluo, Tang Lian/Fairy Rui) and I'm also partial to polyam especially Xiao Se/Sikong Qianluo/Wuxin and XS/SQL/WX/LWJ/YRY. And I also have a soft spot for Xiao Se/Tang Lian.

My favourite crackship is Xiao Lingchen/Mu Chunfeng who never interact on screen but they are both pretty boys trying very hard not to inherit and I think that could be a lot of fun.

Oh and I also love Xiao Chong/Zang Ming! Guy/trusted 2nd in command doesn't always do it for me and I often enjoy them more platonically but it's the sacrifice and augh! Xiao Chong could never see the way Zang Ming looked at him and now Zang Ming will never see the way Xiao Chong looks at him!!!!!!!! (all fine here lads)

And a special shoutout to my original crackship that got destroyed by learning anything whatsoever about the novel/the prequels which was Xiao Ruofeng/the original four guardians of Tianqi/Lei Mengsha. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough to ignore everything about canon and go back to 'Li Hanyi took her mother's surname becuase they're not actually sure who her dad is'. Like today is not that day. But it's such a funny concept.

[auguryofjellyfish]

gonna be honest i think the small jagged metal piece(iirc) that wada and yanagi found in the sewing room might be ken's sister's hairclip

hopefully it's not that though i don't want ken to die

that piece of metal definitely seems out of place, and they haven't found anything it could've fallen off of...hrm...

guys we really gotta leave ken alone like, there are other people here 😭😭 LMAOO this is galaxy-brained though, props to you for thinking of it!

what if it was that little square from ojima's suspenders, can we back to suspecting ojima 😭

[kr-cube]

average manga fans who hate a mischaracterized version of ichigo kurosaki are 35% of the reason why i turned out a lesbian