#i wonder if it was intentional for this to be their last song as three

[wjplease]

踊り子 - Vaundy / Covered by Asahina Akane & Machita Chima & Inui Toko

When we separate, I wonder if what's left is the song of never-changing love

[girlbeyondthegrave]

I Watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice a Third Time: More Things I Noticed

Here’s my previous list for those that haven’t read it. Enjoy!

A lot of people on this post I made thought that the dog in the MacArthur Park sequence was Taco from the Ghosthouse segment where Beetlejuice appears in the audience. I am sad to report this is not the case. Taco is a chihuahua, and the dog that appears is more of a terrier. However, some people on Reddit wonder if the dog is the one that ran out in front of the Maitlands’ car and killed them. I haven’t rewatched the first movie yet to check.

When Beetlejuice stitches Lydia’s mouth shut, she’s more exasperated than afraid. She literally tries to yell, “COME ON!”

Beetlejuice looks so offended on Lydia’s behalf when Rory calls her codependent. Like, “Is he serious right now? Get him, babe!”

Beetlejuice appearing before Delia can finish summoning him furthers the eavesdropping theory I made in my earlier post, and if we go off that theory, we can explain by Beetlejuice wasn’t that bothered by being summoned away at the wedding. He’s overheard Lydia’s desire to take her relationships slow and her reluctance to marriage. (Which is most definitely because of him and the fact that the last living person she loved tragically died—even if their relationship was over before that point.)

In the film, Beetlejuice is the ONLY person that agrees to help Delia find Charles, which we see her do at the end of the movie. This means that Beetlejuice kept his word and helped Delia, and he didn’t keep her away from Charles after the wedding fell through.

“MacArthur Park” plays when the studio intros roll, during the wedding sequence, and the end credits—three times when we have three different iterations of Beetlejuice and Lydia’s dynamic, fun fact. This is meant to be their song, and although the song is about a doomed relationship, this part sticks out to me: “After all the loves of my life / You’ll still be the one.” It doesn’t matter if Beetlejuice gets the timing right. It doesn’t matter if Lydia marries him. He considers her “the one.” He’s always going to wait for her, as conveyed by “Right Here Waiting.”

Astrid opens pages about violation 699 and summoning sandworms via trapdoors. I understand that was meant to “foreshadow” later events and explain why she knew how to do those things, but the terms for 699 are barely on-screen, so it’s hard to catch the part where it lays out how bringing Lydia illegally into the afterlife makes her contract null and void.

When Delores appears at the church, there’s a huge gust of wind, and the Handbook moves, but NOTHING ELSE MOVES with that precision until Delores moves Lydia away from the altar. This is kind of a stretch, but I personally think it’s possible that Beetlejuice saw Delores, and he purposefully sent the book in Astrid’s direction. If we go off my eavesdropping theory, he clearly knows Astrid is a smart girl. Plus, he stopped her from getting to the book earlier, so he knows it’s a threat.

When Beetlejuice has a dramatic entrance or exit, it’s very intentional. He does a whole dramatic couple’s therapy bit for Lydia and Rory. He does the earthquake through the model with a slow rise from the smoke. But we’ve also seen him appear in straightforward ways, too, like how he appears randomly to spook Delia. Beetlejuice controls his entrances and exits, and so his dramatic exit at the end is intentional. He allows Lydia to send him away. He makes a big show of it. Lydia has been manipulated by Rory for years. He’s tried to control her and stifle her. When Beetlejuice lets Lydia send him away and makes a big show of it, he’s demonstrating the amount of control he’s giving to Lydia. He goes because SHE wants him to, not because he can’t stop her from saying his name.

(Editing to say that this post confirms the dog is Tim’s dog.)

[alexiroflife]

“a bird’s song”

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are satoru’s entire world, having redefined what it means to live. losing you is the last thing he ever wants to do

to sum it up: you’re satoru’s soulmate and a life without you is inconceivable

WC: 5,255

Warning(s): lots of angst, mentions of death/reader death, i cried writing this oops

Why are the birds still chirping?

Satoru remembers the first time he became aware of the melodious sound fluttering through the cloudless sky above, when he first lay eyes on you. Somehow, the world doused itself into vibrant color right then and there, stroking the trees, the ground, and your stunning face with the brush of a paint, revealing a reality to him that he hadn’t believed to exist before you. 

He is ten years old, peering over at you from his seat on the park bench. He isn’t allowed to wander off on his own, protected heavily by the members of his clan everywhere he goes. He withholds a sense of entitlement, harbored at such a young, ripe age, and he scowls at all the children that skip along the pavement, screeching in ignorant delight, but then there’s you. With a laugh louder than all the rest and a smile brighter than the glaring beam of the sun overhead, your round (e/c) eyes connect with his from where you sit atop the slide. You sit down, gripping the ledges in preparation to fly downward, yet you stop yourself when you see him. 

You blink curiously, then beam and wave, seeking to make a new friend with that blush that sprouts over your already flushed cheeks. 

Satoru Gojo has only seen his world through a gray lens, despite the vibrance of his eyes. Burdened by a title, defined by his birthright, pressured by the realities of a world beyond even the ordinary adult imagination before he’s even reached double digits. Everything is cold, because he is the only one of himself in this world, and yet there you are. 

The moment your hand reaches the air, color bursts from your palm and sprouts through your fingertips, seeping into the atmosphere and drenching a dull universe in childlike wonder. Satoru, numbed by any and all around him, apathetic to the inferiority of the surrounding society, finds his lips parting slightly and his periwinkle irises flickering with a glint of perplexed inquisition. 

His ears ring, and suddenly… have the birds always sung so loud? Has the breeze always tickled his nose and tousled through his locks? Has the sun always illuminated the planet with a golden haze? 

His arm is snatched by his maid moments following the interaction, and he is tugged away, back to the cold. Satoru never bothered to look anyone in the eye before, if not to enlighten them of their unshakable weakness in comparison to him, but that day, he finds himself watching over his shoulder as the vision of you shrinks and the patter of his boyish heart matches the hastiness of the steps pulling him off. 

He can hear them still… they won’t stop singing.

Three years later, Satoru happens upon you again. Somehow, he is worse than before. More arrogant, older, intent on the idea of knowing everything that can not be debauched by the authority of an adult, because in truth, he does know more. He knows all. He sees all. He sees the fear in the eyes of those who protect him, the weakness of the masses, the strength of his mind that could grow to wipe them all out one day if he truly desires so. 

He still thinks about you. Your face flickers through his mind every day, and he doesn’t understand why. Since he saw you, his world is louder, but you are nowhere in sight. 

Until one day, he’s walking by a middle school, hands tucked in his pockets as he treks out to the ice cream shop he’s grown to favor over the years thanks to his sweet tooth. He keeps his gaze down, an expression of agitation gracing his features. He’s taller now, allowing him to look further down on those nearby. 

He grows weary of his beauty when girls whisper as he walks by. He knows he is not ordinary, and at times, it makes him laugh dryly. These pathetic school girls could never possibly aim to even speak with someone like him. He’s better. He’s the best. He’s a fabrication of their childish dreams and fantasies that will never find the light of reality. 

Satoru is lost in his head when he swings the door open to the shop, eyes ghosting over the array of flavors until they accidentally snap to the back of your head. He looks away at first, then does a double take when a strange, familiar tightness grips his chest. That hair, that (s/c) skin, that posture radiating warmth and strength bursting with a rainbow of hues are things Satoru has only seen once, and with his keen six eyes, he recognizes you instantly before you turn around with a vanilla cone in your hand.

You meet his eyes in an instant, and both of you stop. Satoru thinks he can hear a songbird whistle from down the road as his grip on the door releases and the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes. He thinks you recognize him, by the way your brows raise and those unmistakable (e/c) eyes of yours sparkle with something he has never seen before. 

You look the same, only a bit older. You’ve grown taller, your eyes the slightest bit more mature, but it’s you. That girl who unveiled color to Satoru years prior. He has only seen you in his head, but now you stand before him, real, bright, and… pretty.

He doesn’t know what to say. Satoru has never taken interest in girls or boys romantically, especially those who ogle at him like he is a pet to tame and withhold, but your gaze on him is different. You’re different. The white haired boy feels his heart hammer into his chest, a foreign feeling that he has only felt once before in your presence. He’s overcome with nostalgia, and dare he say, anxiety. Who are you? What is this you make him feel?

Your lips part and you take a breath, doe eyes glassy as though having had life sparked into them. Satoru imagines he looks the same, his sapphire hues gleaming with the stun of seeing you again. 

“Hey,” you call out gently, voice wrapped in a light amiability, a familiarity that Satoru is unaccustomed with. He’s never had friends his age. He’s never had someone look at him the way you do, seeking out to communicate with him at a basic human level. “Do I know you…?”

Suddenly, Satoru’s astonishment is bombarded by irritation. No one has ever tried to speak to him at a basic human level, he recalls, so why are you? Why do you believe you’re special enough to talk to him? He doesn’t know you, not any more than by first glance. 

You have some audacity to approach him, to open your mouth to talk to him as if you could ever be at the same level as him. You’re just a girl despite the flutter in his heart you inspire and the brightness that you exude. A girl who can never be his friend.

His brows angle and his hands shove stubbornly into his pockets. Teenage arrogance is a monster, but, harbored by a thirteen year old Satoru Gojo, is perilous.

“No,” he tells you coldly, watching the hope drain from your face and the light in your eye dim. “Why would you?”

You visibly retract from the snippiness of his voice, having mistaken his appearance for that of a friendly boy. You know exactly who he is. You aren’t dumb. You’ve never seen anyone like him before, not since that day at the park. Those eyes, that hair, that presence. He’s one of a kind, but he isn’t ten anymore. He’s meaner. Less innocent, you can tell.

“Oh,” you say, dejected. Two other girls come behind you, chattering loudly, and usher you away. They sneak glances at Satoru as they giggle, and he hears them ask you who the cute boy you were looking at was.

His heart lurches when you tell them it was no one.

He regrets that day. He regrets stripping that excitement from you. He has spent his entire life reminding people of where they stand with a simple look, but the second he did it to you, it didn’t feel right. He thinks maybe he should have been kinder. He thinks maybe he wanted to speak with you, but didn’t know how. He thinks maybe you’re the one person he could have tried to get to know, to help him ease away from his loneliness.

Maybe. Maybe he could have known you, but that was only a silly dream. 

It's five in the morning… they won’t stop singing so close to his window.

Two more years later, Satoru finds you again in the last place he would have expected to see you. 

It’s his first day at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and he’s wandering the campus after having moved into his dorm when he sees you by the vending machines speaking with a black haired boy in baggy pants.

His heart drops. His ears ring. His chest tightens, and god damn, why are those birds perched on the telephone wire so loud?

Satoru is fifteen, and he is no less cocky, but he finds himself a bit more spirited, more lighthearted, seeking humor in the drab doom of the world he inhabits. He pokes fun rather than instantly berating. He sparks banter rather than immediately pushing others away. He laughs, not scowls, at the sheer difference in strength between himself and others, and he never thought he would see the day where he would find you again… and here, of all places, in his world. 

What is the universe telling him? Why are you ingrained into his life’s path when everyone else comes and goes?

His first instinct is to approach you, but what should he say? He pretended not to know you the last time your paths crossed… maybe you forgot? Maybe he could start over?

Somehow, however, he knows that is not possible. He knows you anywhere, your aura, your vibrance. He knows you despite the very brief and distanced interactions he has had with you in the past. He would recognize you anywhere, he fears, and something tells him as he walks over that you will too. 

“You guys my classmates?” he asks cheekily, a smug smile gracing his face once he is before the two of you, interrupting your conversation.

The dark haired boy looks at him first with an expression of confused contempt, and then you turn, and Satoru almost loses his breath.

You’re gorgeous, he thinks. Your lips are glossed, your eyes are coated in gentle strokes of mascara, and your facial structure has matured. The school uniform graces your body regally, your navy skirt revealing the smoothness of your legs and your knee highs reaching to cut it off. He’s never seen a girl so pretty in his life, save from the two instances in which he has seen you. 

Your face contorts immediately into shock when you see him, and he grins. “Do I know you?” he mimics your words from the past, and your shoulders tense before your eyes slim.

“You,” you gasp, a hint of suspicion laced in your voice which, in turn, has matured as well. 

Satoru smirks, heart brimming with anticipation. “Me?” he nods, hand over his hip. 

“You two know each other?” the hazel eyed stranger with odd bangs questions, looking between the two of you oddly. Only then do you realize that you have been staring at each other.

You snap your face back over to him and curl your lips. “Not really…” you say.

“What? You’re such a liar!” Satoru accuses, leading you to glare at him, flabbergasted by his forwardness. “We’ve met before.”

“Hardly. And the last time I saw you, you were pretending like you didn’t know who I was.”

“That was forever ago! Are you really gonna hold onto a grudge from when I was thirteen?” he cocks a playful brow, those sapphire eyes of his blazing with brazen jest. 

“Yes,” you nod. “You seemed like an asshole.”

“I’m sure that hasn’t changed,” the boy murmurs, and Satoru pouts, unimpressed. 

“And who are you?”

“Geto Suguru. Grade one,” he answers almost judgmentally, and Satoru scoffs a laugh.

“Grade one, huh?”

“...Yes? Why, what grade are you?”

Satoru’s grin brightens. “Special grade.”

Both you and Suguru reel at the news, and Satoru revels in the shock. “How the hell are you special grade already?” you ask.

Gojo shrugs, poking his tongue out. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he tells you vaguely, though it’s clear on his face that he is itching to shout it from the rooftops.

Satoru doesn’t muster up the courage to ask you what your name or grade is, and you read his failure to do so as a sign that he does not care. His sight allows him to detect that you are a grade three, but beyond that, your name remains a mystery until Geto addresses you by it when he’s talking. 

(L/n) (Y/n). 

The name is burned into his brain from that point on.

You grow weary of Satoru Gojo the longer you know him. He starts to cling to you and Suguru, as well as the last first year named Ieiri, like you all have known each other all your lives, but he isn’t kind to you. He’s rather mean in the sense that he is constantly trying to gauge a reaction out of you. He’s picking on you, calling you weak, poking fun, invading your privacy, intruding on your personal space, and you think he hates you but it’s just the opposite.

He feels like he has known you since the day he was born. There is something so familiar about you, so comforting about you that he can not begin to understand. He wants to think it’s because of the first time he laid eyes on you, but it feels like it goes deeper than that. Like your fates are intertwined, like you are doomed to encounter one another in this reality and the next and so on. 

He watches you grow. He watches you curl away from his presence. He watches you strengthen yourself and your bonds with the rest of them. He watches you blossom, and when he first sees you in action on the training field, his heart beams with pride.

You’re weak, but you improve. You climb the ranks in a frantic attempt to catch up to Satoru and Suguru, and though you still fall behind, you don’t falter. You don’t give up, and Satoru is so proud of you despite the short amount of time you have known each other. 

Satoru finds himself changing along with his environment. He comes out of his shell, branching out into a social horror as he grows more and more comfortable in your presence. His arrogance remains, but his words are less harsh, his eyes carry less heaviness, and his posture is broader. He feels lighter somehow, surrounded by you, surrounded by love, and he is grounded. 

Your suspicion of him shifts into the same familiarity that he feels for you, and you grow accustomed to his behavior just as much as Suguru and Shoko have, if not more. You cling to Satoru in return when he glues himself to you, teasing him and poking fun, engaging in ridiculous banter that brings Suguru’s hands over his ears as he begs some higher power for more peaceful company. 

Your heart bursts under Satoru’s gaze, your smile brightening his existence, and the two of you become inseparable. To be parted from your best friend is to be tortured, and the thought of losing you brings Satoru to the brink of insanity. 

There is no longer a you without him, nor a him without you, and everyone knows. Everyone sees the unbreakable strength of your bond. 

“Satoru,” you mumble one afternoon. He hums, looking down at your face as he cradles your head in his lap. The two of you are sixteen, now, lounging in Suguru’s dorm as the dark haired man works on an assignment. You and Satoru lay on his carpet, scrolling through your phones and doing everything but the assignment you are supposed to be completing.

He blinks down at you, bright eyes isolate you in his gaze. You smile lightly, seeing the ten year old at the park that threw his head over his shoulder to capture the sight of you as he walked away. “What’s up?”

“...Do you think we’re soulmates?”

The blue eyed boy’s heart jumps as he looks down at you with a soft smile. “What a question to ask,” he marvels. “You finally falling in love with me, sunshine?”

Sunshine.

He had begun calling you that a few months into knowing each other during your first year. You had asked him why, and he responded that everything you touched sprouted into color just like the nip of the sun’s rays. You told him that he was stupid and nudged his head away with a laugh.

“You wish,” you roll your eyes, and Satoru chuckles. Your foot dangles over your crossed legs and your lips pucker in thought. Satoru watches every movement your body takes, studying you like the piece of art he believes you to be. “I’m only asking because… I don’t know, like, we met those two times when we were kids, and now we’re here. And even before that, it felt like I was waiting for something to come around… and then there you were.”

You look into his eyes as he leans over and traces your brow with his finger. “So what I’m hearing is that you were waiting your entire life to be graced by my presence.”

“Shut uppp, you know what I mean, don’t you?”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Yeah, I actually do.”

“Like, what do you think would happen if we grew apart someday?”

“Well, that would never happen,” Satoru says. “Even if you got tired of me and tried to get away, I’d find you.”

“Creepy. That must have been what you did before high school, you stalker.”

“For the last time, I didn’t stalk you,” he rolls his eyes, poking into your cheek. “If anyone stalked anyone, it was you stalking me.”

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way I could have, especially since you’re the one with the six eyes. You’re the one with the stalking ability.”

You reach up your index finger to press into his forehead. 

“Stop trying to slander my name like this,” Satoru sighs dramatically. “I’m a perfect gentleman. If I were to stalk you, I'd at least give you a heads up.”

“Wow. How generous of you, you fucking weirdo.”

“A weirdo who’s your soulmate,” he sings. “So that would technically makes you a weirdo too.”

“Nah, you’re still weirder. Right Suguru?”

“Yes,” he calls out, though not at all sure of what the two of you could have possibly been discussing.

Satoru groans. “Don’t take her side, Suguru, what the hell?!”

“I take the side of whoever gets on my nerves less. Today, it’s (Y/n).”

You scrunch your face. “The hell do you mean today? I’m always delightful.”

“That’s not true, and you’d be more delightful if you let me do my work.”

You turn up to Satoru and make a grumpy face, moving your lips around to mimic an exaggerated impersonation of Suguru scolding you. Satoru snorts as he tries his best to hold in his laughter. 

“Whatever you’re doing, quit it,” Suguru says.

“Ugh. He’s so bossy,” Satoru shakes his head. 

“Quiet before he comes over here and beats our asses.”

“He’d never, he loves us too much.”

Just then, a pencil is tossed at Satoru’s head that is deflected by his quickness to equip infinity. He snickers and releases it once the pencil drops to the floor. 

The white haired teenager sighs heavily, gathering your cheeks in his hand as he squishes obnoxiously. You glare at him, dropping your hand to the floor. “Guess it’s just you and me, then,” he murmurs. 

“F’rthe rest ‘f’our lives, hm?” you ask, voice muffled by Satoru’s hand. He chuckles, releasing you and leaning back on his hands. He gazes at you tenderly.

“For the rest of our lives. Suguru can visit on weekends.”

Satoru knows he’s fallen in love with you very early on. He knows that it’s always been you, that you’re the only person he could ever devote his entire being to. He knows that you’re the only person he could ever love more than he selfishly loves himself, more than his life, more than the lives of others. 

You show him a world of color before he can sink further into his disdain. You show him what it means to be supported, to not be lonely, to be consumed by fondness and friendship along with Suguru and Shoko. You show him humility, you show him comfort, you show him a life that he never would have believed he could live.

The sky is a brilliant blue in your wake, the birds chipper and melodic, the grass a lively green, and the world a canvas that you guide his hand to paint along with him.

A year later, losing Suguru takes an immense toll on the both of you. His loss stays with you for ten years, bleeding into your adulthood then resurfacing during and after his attack on the high school, soaking into your lives after his forced execution at his best friend’s hand.

Suguru’s death brings the two of you impossibly closer somehow. Now that you’re older, well into your late twenties and professors at the same school you attended in your earlier years, your lives mold into one another as the same. 

Satoru protects you with his soul, horrified that you will one day slip from his fingers like Suguru did. He can’t stand the thought of losing you, his closest friend, his soulmate. He can’t stand the thought of the love of his life fading from his fingers and into distant memories that were once so close, so recent.

Satoru refuses to tell you that he is in love with you, and has for years, but he knows he doesn’t need to. Your relationship isn’t defined by your declarations, but by your innate understanding of who you are to each other.

Satoru loves you like no other. You’re the breath he takes, the water he drinks, his very existence at the palm of his hands. He knows you love him just the same, and he does not need to validate so by telling you. You’ve told each other hundreds of times, whispers in the night, feeble breaths against each other’s cheeks, laughs as you swoop one another up into your arms. 

The two of you are love incarnate.

You are to be together until the end of time. Fated to die in each other’s arms at the end of the world when all sound has gone mute and all color has already drained from the world, when it is only the two of you left and you welcome the rest that awaits you at the final touch of your lips to each other’s.

Neither of you are meant to leave the other before you both are ready.

So why… why are the birds still chirping?

Something told Satoru not to let you take this mission.

Something deep in his gut was churning, giving him the worst possible feeling imaginable. Something visceral was screaming inside him, telling him to interfere, to make you stay back, to tell Yaga to cancel the entire thing.

You’re a grade one sorcerer now. You’re strong, you’re talented, you can and always have been able to hold your own, but something wasn’t right. Satoru knew this and he tried to convince Yaga to pull you back, but he didn’t listen. He tried to tell you to reconsider, that his instincts were telling him to keep you away, but you simply turned and smiled at him, those pretty (e/c) eyes of your glimmering and your soft lips curling kindly. 

“Stop worrying, Toru,” you said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He’s staring at your body, pupils shrunken and face frozen.

It’s a sunny day. Partly cloudy. Almost two in the afternoon.

The birds are chirping and Satoru is staring at your body.

You lay against the brick wall, limbs twisted and head splattered against the building. You aren’t moving. You aren’t breathing. You’re oh so still, and Satoru can not pick up any vitals within your body signifying any life.

He can’t move. Is this real? Is he dreaming?

It’s sunny outside, like the day he met you, and the birds are chirping, and you’re lying limp before him. 

He twitches, captured by shock, blue eyes dull, lips parted, eyes glazing over. This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

Satoru’s mind swarms with images of you. He sees you as a child, swarming with light as you grin amiably at him in search of a friend. He sees you in the ice cream parlor, breath caught in your throat as your friends drag you away from his rejection of you. He sees you at the vending machine, sun in your eyes as you look at him as though you hate him, and he sees that hatred wash away to make room for your incandescent, raw, unconditional love for him.

He sees your hand reaching to brush his hair into place, your arms clinging around his torso to press yourself into him, your head tossing back with laughter after he tells a stupid joke, the tears drip from your eyes endlessly when the news of Suguru’s crimes fall upon your ears, the heat dusting your cheeks when Satoru looks you in your eyes and tells you that he will always protect you, the touch of your lips to his cheek, the twitch of your brown when you sleep, the grace of your love as it touches him softly as well as the students who have taken such an immense liking to you.

He sees you, all of you, and he can’t breathe.

“(Y/n),” his name tumbles from your lips, a whisper. He expects you to answer, but you don’t, and this nightmare becomes real before him. “(Y/n)?” he calls you again, voice rising, cracking, body trembling. You don’t respond. You don’t move. You don’t do anything. Why won’t you do anything?

He rushes to his knees before you, his blank expression morphing into horror. He grips your shoulders, taking your body into his and you slump into him. Your eyes, once so full of life, are gray as they stare into nothing, past his trembling face. “(Y/n),” he croaks your name again, a shaky hand reaching to touch your face. You’re cold.

No. No. No.

This isn’t supposed to happen. You aren’t supposed to leave him, not like this. You’re supposed to stay by his side until the end of time, you are supposed to be with him forever, you are supposed to come back to his place hours later with takeout in your hands, begging him to watch that one movie he had been dreading to sit through. 

Not you. Anyone but you. Any sorcerer, any human, any life but yours. Not his love. Not his life. Not the source of all the color and joy and music in the world.

“Please, no,” he breathes. Satoru can feel himself unravel, his brain scrambling and his heart thudding into him. He’s panicking, hyperventilating, looking over every part of you as though you will lift a hand to cup over his and tell him that you’re fine, that you’re okay, that you got hurt badly, but you made it. “Fuck, no, no, fucking- (Y/n), wake up. Get up, come on, pretty, get up please! Please, please…”

His hands are soaking in your blood, and Satoru’s eyes blur over. He tries to pull your face up, to look into your eye, to plead you to gain consciousness, but there’s nothing. You give him nothing.

He sits there, staring at you in terror. Pearly tears cascade down his face before he even registers so, splattering onto your red stained cheek. His fingers dig into your body, pressing you close to him. His pants are drenched in your blood, but he doesn’t care.

How can he care about anything anymore?

A strangled cry rips the air from his chest as he clings to you, ducking his head and pressing his forehead to yours. He wraps you up into his arms, holding you over his waist as he rocks you back and forth. 

“Not my baby,” he whimpers, nose flaring. “Not my beautiful girl. Please don’t leave me alone, sunshine, please.”

He’s lost. He’s devastated, heart broken, ripped apart. 

You revealed a world to him that he had never known to be possible. A world that brought him back down to earth, that healed his trauma, that allowed him to breathe, that allowed him to know what it is like to be human. To be weak. To be loved in a way that the expecting world could never love him despite its constant demands for his sacrifice. 

And now, you’re gone. 

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how quickly you slipped away. He knows the life of a sorcerer is to accept death just as you did, but this isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to happen to you. He’s supposed to protect you. How could he have failed to protect you?

He should have been there. He should have prevented you from going. He should have locked you in a room and dealt with whatever curse did this to you himself. He shouldn’t have let you go. He should have done something. He should have fought harder, but he didn’t. And this is the price he must pay for trusting, for stepping away, for watching you assure him and turning your back to him as you walked off. 

He knew and yet he let you go.

Satoru thinks he’s going to break. He can feel his mind shifting, his irregular breaths growing ragged. He can feel the unbridled hatred brewing, the rage, the urge to find and slaughter whatever beast took you away from him. He feels nothing, yet he feels everything all at once. 

Nothing matters anymore, now that you’re gone. There is nothing holding him back, nothing keeping his demons at bay, nothing preventing him from letting loose without a care in this goddamn planet. The higher ups. They sent you. He’d kill them. He’d kill them all after finding your murderer and ripping them apart from the inside out.

Gojo is aching, for he doesn’t know what to do except hold you and cry against your pretty face, pressing shaky kisses to your forehead as he recites your name over and over.

He expects the sky to fall dark. He expects the plants surrounding to wilt. He expects life to stop as he knows it because an angel has died on earth. The source of the world’s life has been torn away.

But life continues around him. The sun beams down, the flowers sprout high…

And those birds keep chirping, though you are the only person who exposed the sound to him in the first place.

“Why…” he shivers, burying his head into your chest.

Why are the birds still chirping now that you’re gone?

[icyg4l]

Who Wants to Kiss You Under the Mistletoe? ❄️🎄

Hello beautiful people! It’s been a long time since we’ve gathered together. But I am back and better, coming to you all with a collab with the beautiful @icanseethefuture333! I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful and safe holiday season. Without further ado, please select the Destiny’s Child/Beyoncé Christmas photo that resonates with you to find out who wants to kiss you under the mistletoe :)

Pile One: You have someone from the past missing you, Pile One. I get this energy of a regretful lover who wishes to start over with you. They regret not paying as much attention to you as they should have when they were in your life. They would like to make it right. Someone here is a nursing student or could be working as a medical assistant. This plays a part into why things did not work out; busy schedules can lead to resentment down the line. I heard “you got it all wrong, dear” as I was channeling messages. It feels like you could have misconstrued this person’s intentions as childish when they weren’t. You’re tired of the games, but there weren’t any played to begin with. They just couldn’t multitask and decided to let you go. Practice patience, kindness and compassion with your next lover. They will need it. But just for future reference, keep your love connections light and upbeat. It will save your heart from serious damage.

Tarot Cards Used: The Emperor, Wheel of Fortune, Princess of Wands, 2 of Wands.

Oracle Cards Used:

Express Your Love - Go ahead and make the romantic gesture.

Flirt - Extend your lighthearted energy to others.

Stay Optimistic About Your Love Life - Positive thinking and faith will bring you romance.

extras: baked bread. finished clinicals. America. Philippines. feeling drained. Looking for partnership.

Bonus Songs: Hold Tight by Justin Bieber. Let it Go by Elsa. Pick up the phone by travis scott, young thug and migos.

Pile Two: You know exactly who this person is! You and this person have similar music tastes, probably are both into niche artists or deep cuts of popular artists. This person likes to send you cute subliminals on social media, such as posting a song dedicated to you using the note feature on Instagram. This person is very aggressive in their approach. You keep resisting this connection, but you shouldn’t! Is this person not your type? Are you scared because they have children? Are you an ashamed single parent? Are you a bored college student that needs excitement in your life? Well, just know that this is your person, and you can ask for all the signs in the world but this will end up being your lover. It is possible that you two could be in a long distance situation, however, this is not stopping your person from showing up as their best selves. If given the chance to kiss them under the mistletoe, just do it! What the hell? What could go wrong?

Tarot Cards Used: Queen of Swords, The Hanged Man, King of Wands, King of Cups.

Oracle Cards Used:

Keep an Open Mind - Your soul mate may differ from your usual type and expectations.

Children - Your love life is being affected by children.

This Could Be the One: You’ve already met the romantic partner you seek.

extras: joy. georgia. SJW. emeli sande. letting it unfold. global peace prize. traumatic past.

Bonus Songs: My Love by Justin Timberlake. Feeling Myself by Beyonce. Let Me Love You by Mario.

Pile Three: Pile Three, your person hasn’t been shy about their advances at all. This is someone who finds themself to be incredibly attractive. They could be big on partying. They’re kind of intimidating (to you). But there’s no need to be scared, love. Get out of your head and get in the field. You are not out of this person’s league. You’re simply a human being with feelings that need to be expressed. Trust, the feeling is mutual. When this eventually happens, you two could be planning on watching a movie and there will be tension between the two of you. It’s also possible that this kiss could happen in front of other people. I saw a bowl of popcorn in my third eye. This could lead to other acts, if you catch my drift. You’re a hard worker, but you deserve to experience love. There is nothing wrong with taking a break and just allowing yourself to bask in the presence of someone who makes you feel free! This person does not care about your baggage, they only care about spending time with you. So go with the flow, you control freak!

Tarot Cards Used: Strength, The Hierophant, Queen of Wands, 4 of Wands.

Oracle Cards Used:

Finances and Career - Financial issues are a factor in your love life right now.

Very Soon - Clearly decide what you want so that it comes to you now!

You Deserve Love - You are lovable!

extras: sunburnt. 11th house placements. drinking. raybans. “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”

Bonus Songs: Out of My League by Fitz and the Tantrums. First Position by Kehlani.

Pile Four: As I was shuffling, I heard the word, “observant”. This person could be watching you from a distance. There is a strong connection to the Atlanta area here. You or this person could be from there. You could be visiting and vice versa. There is something about this person that brings out the girly teengirl in you, lol. This person makes you feel really giggly. This person has beautiful eyes that captivate you. They have a detached, suave demeanor to them. It seems as though they’re not real. They seem to have a level of stability in your life that you do not have, and this draws you to them. They seem to be the “perfect package” for you. As for whether or not you should kiss them, you should wait. There should be some type of buildup between the two of you. There will be some type of waiting period, of which you will endure. There could be some type of interruption (maybe a couple honestly), but the kiss will be worth it.

Tarot Cards Used: 9 of Discs. King of Cups. 8 of Cups. The Hierophant.

Oracle Cards Used:

Playfulness - To recapture romance, allow your inner youthful spirit of fun to shine!

Healing Family Issues - Your love life benefits as you forgive your parents.

Attraction - You attract romantic love by enjoying this moment fully.

extras: traveling to/from atlanta. it’s the journey. children of the corn (1984). the perfect holiday (2007). jayson tatum.

Bonus Songs: Are You That Somebody by Aaliyah. Haters by OMG Girlz. Crush by Mulatto. Check it Out by william. Fantasy by Mariah Carey. Goosebumps by Travis Scott.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Those Summer Nights, When I Look in Your Eyes

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France) Warnings: Sexual Situations; Vague Smut

Summary: Daryl's childhood had lacked so much and at the beginning of the turn, he had never known love beyond Merle's version of it. Now, he had it all and he would never let them wonder how much he cherished them.

A/N: For @louifaith, I hope this is close to what you imagined for our archer. 🩵 - Also, I have Daryl calling reader "pip" because someone suggested him nicknaming her "pipsqueak" in another story and it has just stuck with me. I was as vague as possible about reader’s age but let me be clear - she is above 18. I don’t write for huge age gaps. I don’t judge those that do and I do read them. I just do not write them but I have no control over where your mind takes you. Anyway, the song he hums is attached. ;)

Life was good. 

For thirteen years, there had never been a point in time where Daryl had felt like he could say that and genuinely believe it. For an entire year, the Commonwealth had thrived. Not a single threat. The walls held. The governing unit was fair and compassionate. It really was like the old world. 

But not for Daryl. 

In the old world, he had been a drifter. A useless drifter walking in the shadow of his brother. No job, no friends, no purpose. And he had, at that time, liked it that way. 

Not anymore. 

Because now he had a job. He had friends. He had a family. He had a purpose. And he had everything he had lacked growing up. He had love, and not just Merle’s variation of it.

Carol had taken over Lance’s position when Ezekiel and Mercer had stepped up to govern. She had pulled Daryl aside and asked him if he wanted to stay in their reformed force, giving him the choice. His decision was to promptly decline. So they put their heads together to come up with something. 

Daryl possessed many skills, most of them learned by doing throughout the years. He had one condition that he would not negotiate on, however. 

Daryl’s time outside the walls was over. 

He agreed to train hunters to take his place and conceded to three weeks on the road with volunteers that he left up to Carol’s choosing. There was more than enough trust between them for him to be comfortable with who she would deem worthy to provide for the community. 

Then he was given the job of overseeing construction and structural upkeep, equipment maintenance, and of course, a seat in the governmental advisory council. He was nothing if not adaptable and took to his position quickly, finding that he liked it. He was respected and his suggestions for the good of the community were heard and considered. 

If he chose to hunt or ride, it would be for leisure but he’d hardly needed it in the past year. Domestic life had tamed the inner need to hide or escape that had been ingrained throughout the years even before the turn. 

Years ago, you had tumbled into his life. A hot mess that he had spent many a day battling the urge to absolutely throttle. You had a stubborn streak a mile wide that made his own nothing more than a small trail. He absolutely couldn’t stand you. 

Funny thing, time. 

Now you wore his ring and proudly carried his last name. You had wanted the ceremony, even if his proposal was lackluster. He had been seeking you out after the end of the Whisperers. 

“Where’s Y/N?” At first no one answered. He barely parted his lips, intent on asking again with a little more well placed ardor when a woman he recognized as a former Hilltop resident spoke up.  “I saw your wife! She’s over with the children!” He muttered his thanks and took a single step before you were finding him.  “Daryl!” Your body collided with his, knocking the air from his lungs. His heartbeat lowered regardless, feeling you there in his arms, alive and breathing and whole. “I couldn’t see you in the herd. I was about to come find you but Jude, she made me promise to stay.” “M’here. An’ they’re gone” He tightened his arms around you and rested his cheek on the crown of your head.  “So I’m your wife now, huh?” He felt the shift of your facial muscles against his chest, knew you were smiling.  “What of it?” He grunted. “Ya wanna be?” He felt his heart skip a few beats when you lifted your head to smile at him, beaming and beautiful.  “Of course, I do. Might as well be at this point. We sound like an old married couple.” Daryl snorted and then shrugged. “Then I guess we are.” “That simple?” “That simple.” When you grinned, he knew you would never let it be that simple. 

You got your wedding, simple and intimate, with only the few remaining people that were closest to the two of you. When Gabriel said the words, you got your ring, too. Oh, the hell and herds Daryl had gone through to get them. Matching bands, camelot black titanium. Crafted to withstand the way the world was. 

He was twisting the ring round and round as he walked home, tired from a full day’s work and more than ready for the weekend with his family: you, Jude, RJ, and his little River. His boy was nearly two years old, the spitting image of Daryl with a heaping dose of your attitude. 

You were younger than Daryl, still at an age where pregnancy and giving birth was not considered risky beyond the state the world was in and the lack of some resources. It was horrifying yet the best news he’d ever heard in his self-proclaimed useless life.

River Merle came along right in the midst of the unease in the Commonwealth. When they had taken you and River along with Jude and RJ, it had required all the power Carol possessed to stop Daryl from losing his goddamn mind. He was prepared to rip out entrails with his bare hands and use them to strangle each and every trooper that stood between him and his wife and kids. It was not a good time to support Pamela. 

It all worked out in the end when, bruised but alive, the people took back the Commonwealth.

And now, here he was. A husband. A father. A boss. A survivor. 

Life. Was. Good.

“Ya home, Pip?” The words habitually rolled off his tongue the moment he opened the door and stepped inside. Jude and RJ were watching a movie, the elder looking over with a hey, Uncle Daryl before turning right back to the television. It was the weekend. No reason to bug them about homework. 

“Where else would we be?” You called from the kitchen. Daryl unlaced his boots, was in the middle of pulling off the second one when you came out with River on your hip. “Someone’s cranky today.” 

“I ain’t cranky.”

“I’m not talking about you but assuming I was says a lot.” You smiled softly, passing off the baby while simultaneously stealing a kiss. “Hi.” 

“Hey.” He nearly melted, probably would have if you weren’t situating a small human right against his chest.

“Get a room.” Judith was rolling her eyes when Daryl shot her a harmless look. 

River’s little arms went straight around his father’s neck, his little hiccups and sniffles muffled against Dary’s shirt. “S’wrong, lil’ man. Mama houndin’ ya over veggies like she does me an’ RJ?” River pulled back, rubbing his left eye with a chubby fist, looking at Daryl with a scowl that he knew very well adorned his own face more often than not. Even being so content with his life, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of what you called his resting bitch face.

“Daddy.” Was all the boy said before burying his face back into Daryl’s shirt.

“He had a nap?” Daryl was jostling his son as little as possible while ridding himself of his precious vest, tossing it over the back of ‘his’ chair at the dining table. His large hand covered a wide expanse of the small boy’s back when he rubbed soothing little circles, following you into the kitchen. You shook your head and took the lid off the pot on the stove. The scent of meat and herbs wafted toward Daryl and his mouth watered, but first thing was first.

“He wouldn’t go down. I think it’s a daddy day.” You smiled at the sauce but it wasn’t meant for the pasta topping at all. Daddy days were Daryl’s favorite. River wanted absolutely no one but him. The baby would fuss during meals, refuse to nap, and absolutely forget about bath and bedtime unless Daryl was there.

“I got ‘im then. See if I can get ‘im down for a bit.” Daryl was ducking and angling his head to catch River’s attention, finally earning a shy smile when blue met blue and the archer scrunched his nose and stuck out his tongue. Pressing a kiss into the mess of wavy hair, he noticed you standing with your back against the countertop, a certain type of smile on your face.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just sexy.”

“Pfft, stop.”

“We are so playing chess tonight.”

Daryl arched a brow. “Yeah?” 

You nodded, your smile morphing into something else entirely; something sinful. “Oh, yeah.”

Dinner done, older kids in their rooms after teeth brushing and goodnight hugs, Daryl sat in the nursery with a sleepy River resting his head on his father’s shoulder while the chair gently rocked. The baby’s hair was only the least bit damp but he smelled of the lavender lotion that you always seemed to have near the changing table, instructing Daryl to use it after baths and before bed because it was calming.

Bathed and in a fresh diaper and pajamas, mini-Daryl was beginning to drift off while his father simply rubbed his back or kissed his cheek or even held a little hand just to count the fingers over and over. Soon enough there would be potty training and pre-school—Carol had said that was still a thing in the world now and yes, they had one in the Commonwealth—so for now, Daryl just wanted to soak it all up, take it all in.

River would likely be the only baby the two of you would have, so not a single second was being wasted or taken for granted. You kept a daily journal of simple things that some might find trivial but Daryl knew he’d be reading that journal often enough to wear the ink right off the pages. Sometimes, he missed things because of work, but in the end, that’s what happened when you were a parent, he supposed. His old man didn’t care about milestones or daddy days, and his mama wasn’t around for bath time or boo-boo kisses. River would have it all. And as long as they were his to care for, so would Judith and RJ. In fact, since the baby had Daryl, you were currently reading a story to Rick and Michonne’s son before bed.

Man, if Rick could see Daryl now. Would his brother even recognize him? God, would his brother even recognize him? He let his mind drift for a moment to Rick and Merle, just long enough to keep them close and then he was back to River, pressing a kiss to a chubby cheek. 

You would always rock and sing to the little one but he didn’t need that from Daryl. There was just something about their bond that didn’t require words and hardly even movement. It had been that way since the moment you had pushed him into the world. He had cried, red-faced and angry and cold while Tomi leaned to put him onto your chest. You had your time with him, cuddling and nursing, his little sounds still expressing his discontentment with the change from your warm womb to a loud, bright world.

They had Daryl take off his shirt, which he didn’t understand until you explained better than any doctor or nurse could. The moment River was pressed against his skin, the connection was apparent to anyone who saw. The baby went silent, wide eyes mirroring the ones Daryl himself had. He had felt guilty for the longest time that River wanted you to feed him and then he wanted his daddy back immediately. He still had his mommy days and you said that was enough.

You were always supportive, never angry or jealous. You’d share the moments with him while he enjoyed them with you. 

It was all what he’d never had, so he’d make sure River, Judith, and RJ never went without it.

His eyes were slow to open, squinting at the traitorous window that dared let the morning rays creep across the bed and to his pillow. It took a few sluggish blinks to remember what day it was and that he was free to go back to sleep until River required either you or him. With a deep breath, he stretched his arms above his head and looked at you, still wrapped around him with your head on his chest. Naked. Still so very, very naked.

He was barely in the bedroom door before you were pushing him against it, almost catching his fingers when he attempted to mute the sound of it closing at his back. You had his shirt unbuttoned and your mouth on his before he could even take a breath. “I told you,” you panted against his lips, “we’re playing chess tonight.” Daryl grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you easily, spinning you to press you against the door. “Goddamn right, we are.” The first round was a frenzied bout of moaning and skin slapping skin, hands covering mouths to keep the noise down. Your nails had left gouges on Daryl’s ass and back, clawing at him for more. You weren’t unscathed. A bruise was blooming on the curve of your right breast, a perfect black and purple bite he had inflicted at some point. It ended with you lying across Daryl’s torso while he was flat on his back with the pillow halfway over his face. Panting and sweating while the sheet covered neither of you where it mattered. Why it was anywhere near either of you was anyone’s guess. The second time was slower, every second savored. Your fingertips memorizing his face while his hips rolled into you, back arching to push himself deeper. His lips were on your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks and mouth. His fingers danced down your ribcage and back up to your breasts, gentle caresses while he pressed his lips over the mark he’d left earlier. You didn’t have to try hard to roll him over. He went willingly, his hands going straight for your hips. You let your fingers roam his chest and stomach. His scars were yours to explore, he’d given that power over to you long ago. The marks no longer held him prisoner after you’d shown him how to be free. You were incredibly attracted to the way his body had softened with age and he worshiped each wrinkle and stretch mark that time and pregnancy had gifted you. You loved each other wholly, without condition. 

And you laid where you had collapsed, goosebumps on your skin from the cool morning air. Daryl didn’t want to go back to sleep, so he laid there, watching you and just enjoying the silence with the knowledge that his family was safe. That you had survived together and built something so precious.

When River began to fuss, it was Daryl that slipped out of bed and left you to rest a bit longer. He had no qualms with being the one to get up earlier to take care of the baby.

The weekend went by fast, as it often did. Sunday night, he found himself sitting on the couch after the kids were all asleep. He had helped clean up after dinner and was contently watching you pick up toys and fold laundry. He didn’t step in to help because he had no intention of allowing you to continue for long.

“What?” You finally inquired, obviously catching him staring.

“Nothin’.” He smirked, huffing a laugh that came out as an exhale through his nose. You were still regarding him when he stood and beckoned you with a finger. “C’mere.” Your pretty eyes narrowed but you placed the unfolded towel on the top of the pile in the basket and stepped into his space. Daryl wasn’t romantic, truly believed he didn’t have it in him to be anything near it. Still, when he guided your arms to his shoulders and lowered his hands to your hips, he watched you melt.

“There’s no music, Daryl.”

“Don’t need it.” He shrugged, just swaying back and forth with you, pulling you closer until you rested your head against his chest.

“The formidable Daryl Dixon is dancing with me when there’s no music playing. This’ll make the papers. It’ll be the headline.”

“Stop.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss into your hair. He was smiling when you sighed, somehow pressing yourself closer to him. You didn’t react at first when he started to hum, whether you were in shock or just relishing the moment. Maybe both. You let him continue.

It was an old tune, one from a favorite album released more than a decade before the first walker rose from the dead. The tune was slow and deep, his chest vibrating with every drone. Finally, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, the corners of your mouth perked.

“What is that?”

“How dare ya! S’Ozzy, woman.” He feigned offense but was tenderly tucking your hair behind your ears.

“I’ve never heard it.”

Daryl scowled playfully before scrunching his nose. “Remind me why I married ya?” You wrapped yourself around him and with the fondest smile he had ever let cross his face, he held you tighter.

“Because you love me.”

“Yeah.” He breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

[jessmaybank]

Right here - Rafe Cameron

Based on the song Right here by Chase Atlantic

Outer banks x chase atlantic masterlist

Navigation

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Summary: in which a secret friends with benefits relationship gets messy.

Warnings: drug use (weed), swearing, SMUT, fingering, unprotected sex, choking, nipple play, oral (f receiving).

AN: lots of mutual pining, teasing, jealousy & angst. friends to lovers. This is easily my fave thing I’ve ever written. Flashbacks are in italics, enjoy!

I'm so far from the line, yeah

I'm too deep in my mind, yeah

If she calls, I'll be right there

That's three calls in a night, yeah

“Hey” she says quietly, phone pressed to her ear as she answers his call in the middle of the night, something she still hadn’t quite grown accustomed too yet. her voice sounded so delicate and sweet, it made Rafe’s head rush.

This was the third call she had received from him this week, and it always ended the same. Each time she would tell herself that it was the last, but here she was, tangled within her lilac sheets, unable to let the call go to voicemail. She always seemed to bend her rules when it came to him.

“Hey. Did I wake you up?” He asks, voice tainted with something that sounded like concern, but she wasn’t quite sure. Rafe wasn’t exactly known for his ability to emphasise with others. Rather, his actions were always driven by his own selfish wants and needs, and he was extremely stubborn. That was was something which she learnt the day their arrangement started.

“Rafe, I swear to god, move. I shotgunned the couch” she said, arms crossed as her lips move into a small pout, her doe eyes hard to miss.

Rafe thought the expression was nothing less than adorable, observing the way her eyebrows were furrowed slightly to be more convincing, hoping to get some sympathy out of him. But despite the frown on her face, he knew she was biting back a smile. She liked being teased just as much as he liked teasing her.

The corners of his mouth upturned into an amused grin, something which should of annoyed her further, but it didn’t. Instead, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from matching his expression.

They were at toppers house, in the midst of a party which had just began to die down, the crowds of young adults sprawled around the large living room getting smaller by the minute. She had no intention of going home anytime soon, and neither did he.

“Not anymore, angel” he says, manspreading on the couch to get comfortable, but also just as a way to tease her further. But once again, the familiar nickname he picked for her, and only her, made it near impossible for her to be mad at him.

They had been friends for a long time now, so in theory she should have been used to it, but she just wasn’t. Every time the word left his cherry red lips, she felt like a giddy teenager again.

She sighs in defeat, tugging on one of the loose threads of his hoodie which he gave her, one of the many endearing gestures which made all the constant teasing seemingly tolerable.

“Stop being greedy and just sit next to me” he says, patting the empty space next to him. His shiny gold rings that decorated his fingers were a stark contrast to the dim light which began to engulf the room as it grew later into the night, and she began to wonder how one mans hands could be so attractive.

Maybe she was being greedy for wanting the whole couch to herself, but she was not about to be criticised by Rafe Cameron himself. He was quite literally the epitome of greed, even if she failed to recognise that sometimes, her delusion towards him a symbol of her naive nature.

She pretended to hesitate before sitting down on the couch next to him, the smell of her sweet perfume invading his senses, throwing him off track. She was the only person who could make his nonchalant nature falter so easy, and the feeling was so unfamiliar to him he almost felt uneasy whenever she was near.

Every time Topper threw a party, she had an end-of-night tradition. She would sprawl across the expensive couch with a blanket, smoke the pre-rolled joint she would bring with her every time, and slowly become one which the couch, her body melting into the white leather. Luckily, Toppers parents were gone for the week this time, so she had permission to smoke inside.

She turned her body, leaning her back against the armrest of the couch, before draping her legs over Rafe’s lap. They weren’t exactly used to such affections at this stage in their relationship, but she was a bit tipsy, and she certainly wasn’t going to let him stop her from getting comfy.

Her squeaky clean converse dug into his thigh a little, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sent her a glare, and he prayed he put on a good enough of a show to convince her it was real.

“What? I warned you” she said, shifting slightly to retrieve the blanket which was hung on the back of the couch, throwing it over them both.

Rafe placed his hands under the blanket and rested them on her legs, just below her knees, the evening breeze coming through the windows seemingly prevalent. He was a bit cold in his t-shirt, but he would never dare to ask for his hoodie back. He noted how warm she felt as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her legs, and suddenly he wanted to bury his head between them.

She dug her dainty hands into the pocket of his hoodie, retrieving a slightly crumpled joint and a dodgy lighter. Her manicured pink nails made her hands look so fragile, and Rafe couldn’t fathom how one girls hands could be so fucking cute.

She lights the joint, the flame lighting up her face in an orange tint, the warm hue painted over her features a perfect picture to him. He watched as she inhaled and exhaled again and again, and it dawned on him then that he could watch her do anything, and he would never get bored.

“Sharing is caring, angel” he says, placing his hand out in front of her. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress the small grin which graced her lips, her sweetness practically radiating off her as she passed him the joint, captivated in the way he inhaled before blowing a thick cloud of smoke into the living room, blurring their vision slightly.

Weed always made Rafe a little more touchy than usual. When he’s sober, his anxiety is always apparent in his tensed muscles or his clenched jaw, or the way he always runs his hands through his hair when he’s stressed out. But as soon as marijuana was flowing through him, his mind relaxed, and so did his body.

he’s pretty dazed by the time he passes the joint back. He digs his hands under the blanket once again, running the tips of his fingers innocently across her thighs, relishing in her smooth skin. but the feeling it caused her was anything but innocent.

“Do you mind?” She says, her voice betraying her as it came out shaky. He turned his head, and when she saw the mischievous glint which lay behind his bloodshot eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

He had to poke the inside of his cheek with his tongue to suppress a grin. He thought her flustered state was completely endearing, and he loved knowing the effect he had on her. “Am I distracting you, angel?”

“No” yes.

She hoped she was convincing, but he could see right through her, mostly as he observed the way she drew in a sharp breath as his hands travelled further and further up her leg, her skin tingling at his touch.

“You see, I don’t believe you” he smirks, shifting towards her, his hand stopping right at the hem of her denim mini skirt, fingers dipping under the material ever so slightly, as if he was daring himself to go even further.

“Rafe” she whispers. fuck. His name had never sounded so pretty until it came out of her mouth.

She took another hit of the joint, trying to distract herself from his dirty little games. But the higher she got, the more she melted into his touch.

She sent him a half-hearted pleading look, one which should of convinced him to back away, but unfortunately for her, he could read her like his favourite book, and the way her legs squirmed on top of him, parting ever so slightly, gave him all the confirmation he needed.

His fingers dipped under her skirt, the cold metal of his rings grazing the top of her thigh, cooling down her burning skin. She looked around, making sure no one was paying attention, and relaxed a little when she noticed everyone left was either passed out or too engrossed in conversation to notice either of them.

His lips parted as he made contact with her clothed pussy, coming to the realisation her lace underwear was soaked. His shorts tightened as his cock grew rock hard, and he prayed she couldn’t feel it under her legs, but of course she could.

Her legs squirmed once again as he started toying with her clothed clit, her calf’s rubbing right against his cock, and he swore she was hell-bent on torturing him.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand dove into her underwear, running his fingers up her folds, almost groaning as he felt her arousal. The heavy pants coming from her glossy lips were drowned out by the music which played from toppers speaker, and suddenly Rafe wished the room was silent.

The joint fell from her fingers and onto the blanket as he inserted two fingers inside of her, the pit of her stomach heating up as pleasure flows through her, sinking her body further into the couch.

He retrieved the joint with his free hand before it burnt a hole in the blanket, taking a hit before putting the roach into the ash tray next to him. She was shocked at how nonchalant he looked, pretending as if his fingers weren’t inside of her as they sat in a room with all of their friends, at risk of being caught at any moment.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, in awe of the way she struggled to keep her eyes open, the bloodshot whites in her eyes making her look even more fucked out. He draped his free arm on the back of the couch as he continued to finger fuck her with his other, and when their eyes met, electricity shot down her spine, entranced by his blown out pupils.

she lifted the blanket to cover her mouth as moans threatened to spill out of her, her legs now spread for him underneath the soft material. He didn’t care that they weren’t alone, he didn’t like the fact she wanted to hide her face from him.

He shakes his head slightly, tutting as he brings his free arm down, pulling the blanket from her face before cupping her jaw. “Let me see you” he said, his voice steady. And as she bit her lip to suppress a whimper, pussy clenching around his fingers, he knew he was in trouble.

“No, I can’t seem to sleep” she says, voice quiet through the phone, but he heard her clearly.

“I’ve been thinking about you today. Can you come over?” he says, and her eyes shut in defeat.

He would always do this, call her up and sweet talk her into coming over so they could fuck. Rafe never gave any of his feelings away, living up to his fuck boy reputation, and so everytime she would leave his house, thinking she was nothing but a warm body to him, she swore to herself she would never let him pull at her heartstrings like that again.

But just like him, her lack of self control betrayed her every time.

She takes a while to respond, and Rafe had to question if he managed to fuck everything up in a 2 minute phone call.

“I’ll be there in 10” she says, her voice sweet like honey, and finally he felt like he could breathe again.

Well girl, what do you think about

Staying right here in bed?

I didn't hear a word you said

I wasn't that high, I swear

Her eyes drifted open at around 8am, the morning sun making her wince as she tries to focus her vision, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Her movements come to a halt as she feels the weight of someone pressed up behind her, arm draped over her waist and head buried behind her neck.

Her eyes widen slightly as she turns so she’s almost on her back, observing how at peace Rafe looked as he was cuddled up to her, his chest rising and falling every few seconds, the sounds of his breathing relaxing her somewhat.

She must of passed out before she had the chance to leave last night, which happened sometimes whenever they were together super late. Sometimes, by the time Rafe was done with her, she would actually struggle to move, exhaustion overtaking her limp body.

But this was the first time they woke up like this. Usually, she would stick to her side of the bed, and he would stick to hers, abiding by Rafe’s stupid rule of no cuddling, as if it would somehow cure his growing infatuation for her.

He was not a relationship person, and that was something she definitely learnt the hard way. Growing up in the household that be did, Rafe had always struggled with letting people in. His father had made it impossible for him to trust, and whenever he got close, he would bolt, too scared to let himself feel anything.

For some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. So instead, he made a bunch of stupid rules, in the hopes that it would stop him falling too deep.

Peering up at him with tired eyes, she came to the realisation that she would let him do anything to her as long as it meant he was this close. She would let him walk all over her, whatever way he wanted, if it meant she could stay in bed, like this, with him, just for a little longer.

She almost jumped out of her skin as Rose called for Rafe from downstairs, and the moment she could see his eyes battling to open beneath his eyelids, she turned back around, pretending to be asleep.

he shifted behind her as his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to his surroundings. He mentally cursed his lack of self control as he observed the position he was in, but surprisingly, he didn’t move.

Instead, he ran his fingers through a lock of her hair, the sweet smell of her strawberry shampoo making him second guess every single decision he’s ever made. He trailed his fingers all the way down to the curves of her bare hips, before planting a sweet kiss on the back of her head. It took everything in her to remain still, to suppress a bright smile, but she did, ignoring the shiver that ran down her spine at his sweet affections.

Rose called for him again, and he rolled his eyes, but he still just couldn’t bring himself to move. He trailed his eyes to last nights hickeys that were littered across her neck and shoulder, and he realised then that maybe, just maybe, he would bend his rules, if it meant he could stay in bed, like this, with her, just for a little longer.

It's happening again

Well, I don't give a fuck about your friends

I'm right here

Oh, baby, take a look around

I'm the only one that hasn't walked out

I'm right here

His eyes spotted her as soon as she entered his house, seemingly uninterested in the party around him. She looked good, too good, as he observed her appearance. Her summer dress painted her figure in the most delectable way, and her glossy lips looked so succulent he had to hold himself back from kissing her when she sat down next to him.

“You look happy” she says, sarcasm dripping off her tongue as she speaks. The amusing look on her face subsided as she noticed the way he licked his red lips, his blue orbs filled with something she couldn’t place.

She lent back, still facing him, almost touching his arm that was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers close to her shoulder. It took everything in him not to run his fingers along her soft skin, a deep craving to trail his fingers over the freckles littered on her shoulder, and he had to question wether he was starting to go insane.

“You didn’t answer yesterday” he says, taking a swig of his bottle of whiskey, a usual favourite for him.

Is that why he looked so glum? It couldn’t be, it’s Rafe we’re talking about here. So then why did he look so doleful? She was burning to know, but she knew better than to pry when it came to him. So, she tried to comfort him in the only way she knew he would let him.

“Can I make it up to you?” She says sweetly, and that caught his attention instantly, head turning to face her. Her doe eyes were glistening with desire, her organs pumping with adrenaline, and she swore she saw his features soften.

Her sinful thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder, and she caught the way that Rafe’s jaw clenched at something behind her before she turned around, revealing some touron she met at party a couple weeks ago. If she was being honest, she didn’t even remember his name, but she didn’t have the heart to be rude.

And just like that, she was ripped away from him, the missing warmth from her beside him making his insides twist in the worst way possible as he watched her disappear into the crowd, muscles tensing as he paid attention to how her hands were intertwined with his. Is that why she didn’t answer yesterday? Was she with him? His blood ran cold at the thought, his face contorting with disappointment as he ran a hand through his hair, taking an extra big sip of his whiskey.

He then focused his dull gaze on the empty seat beside him, and before he knew it, time started to slow.

They both sat naked in his living room, her heart racing as she straddled him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck. The sweetness of her cherry lip gloss drowned his tongue as he hummed into her mouth, her insides tingling at the sweet sound as their lips moved together in a passionate kiss.

She realised then that she loved every single sound he made. Even if it was a rude remark, which wasn’t exactly uncommon with Rafe, at least it was something. At least she got to hear him.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you” he mumbled into her mouth, fingers entwined in her messy hair. His voice was low and quiet, but the words pierced through her heart as if he shouted it at the top of his lungs.

She noticed that he would only say nice things to her when they were fucking, and although she didn’t complain in the moment, she always felt uneasy afterwards, his empty words lingering in her mind.

“Yeah?” God. Her voice sounded so weak and fragile, she wished she could just lay on the floor and let the ground swallow her hole. Maybe then, her conflicting thoughts would finally subside.

But Fuck, he loved when she was nervous because of him. Her shaky voice made his lips curl up into a smirk, pushing her hips down in line with his cock, watching her lidded eyes as she pushed herself down onto him, stretching her out and taking him whole.

“Your so fucking beautiful, angel” he moaned, not being able to stop his thoughts whilst he was inside her. In fact, he never could. Whenever they had sex, he would just speak his mind freely, not being able to hold back.

Her moans were full of sin as she began to bounce on his cock, digging her pink nails into his shoulders and throwing her head back in pleasure. He took the opportunity to wrap a hand round her neck, squeezing just the right amount, making sure he didn’t hurt her too much. He brought his other hand up to play with her nipple, pinching on the sensitive skin, and she jerked on top of him, making him smirk.

“Fucking addictive” he mumbles, letting go of her neck and gripping her hair instead, pulling her head forward to look him right in the eyes.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean” she says, clawing her nails down his bare chest, leaving little red marks to replace the old faded ones.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and pushing her against the couch, her back sinking into the soft material. “Oh, I mean it��

Her eyes screw shut as he pounds into her, her breathing increasingly unorganised as his nails dug into her hips. His forehead glistened with a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to it, and he had to bite back a smile as he saw how fucked out she was beneath him, her cheeks stained with a faint redness.

“I hate you” she says, a sincere look on her face. And if he didn’t feel her pussy clenching around him in that moment, he might of believed her.

“Earth to Rafe” Topper says, waving his hand in front of his face, and he snapped back to reality.

“Jesus man, what’s gotten into you”

He shrugs in response, an unamused look on his face. “You playing?” Topper asks, turning his head towards the circle of people sat in the middle of the room. Rafe follows toppers line of vision, and his jaw clenches. Usually, he doesn’t indulge in party games, but as soon as he saw her sat in the circle, he was making his way over.

She sat with her best friend, Tara, laughing and giggling as she sips on her vodka soda. He sat down opposite her, their eyes meeting, and suddenly it was like they were the only two people in the room.

“Rafe looks good tonight, doesn’t he” Tara says, a small smile painting her features, snapping her out of her daze. No one knew about their arrangement, and so she didn’t really have a right to be mad, but she couldn’t deny the way her heart sank at her friends words.

“I guess” she says, doing her best to mask her jealousy with a bored look, but it didn’t really work.

The games started off innocent, a few harmless truths and dares, but as always, it turned sexual very quickly. Topper was always the one to blame for that.

“Okay, this round is 7 minutes in heaven. You know the rules, if the bottle lands on you, you have to spend 7 minutes locked in a room with whoever it lands on next. No backing out” Kelce says, and her heart began to beat a little faster.

Kelce lent forward, gripping the glass beer bottle and giving it a spin. Rafe looked across at her, observing how her eyes were glued to the bottle as it span, and he hoped to god he wasn’t going to have to watch her go into a room with somebody else.

His thoughts were interrupted as their eyes connected, and confusion filled him as he took notice of her wide eyes. He looked down, and when he realised the bottle was pointed at him, it was like all the colour drained from his face.

People began to cheer around them, topper leaning over to pat his back, but she couldn’t do anything but sit, completely frozen. Kelce then span the bottle again, and her heart sank to her feet as it landed on Tara.

Tara giggled as she stood up, smoothing out her dress with her hands, but Rafe didn’t move, clearly hesitant. He tried to ignore the alcohol induced encouragement from everyone around them, and she had a sliver of hope that maybe he wouldn’t do it.

But when she saw him stand up and begin to lead her best friend into one of the downstairs bedrooms, it was like a dagger straight through the heart. She sat there for a minute or two, in her own world as she pinched herself, over and over again, to stop the tears which threatened to spill out of her.

She made her way outside, pushing through the back doors of the house and into the empty garden, the evening breeze giving her goosebumps. She knew she only had herself to blame, he told her what it was from the start and she didn’t listen, but that didn’t make the pain any easier.

She sat down on the stairs of the outside decking, arms crossed as she rubs her arms, trying to warm herself up. She heard some commotion from inside, and turned her head to see through the glass doors.

Everyone cheered as Rafe and Tara made their way out into the living room, and she struggled to breathe as she observed the way Tara pulled her dress down and fixed her hair, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what went on.

Rafe’s heart sank as he returned, scanning around the room to find she was no where to be seen. His gaze landed on her figure outside, and he didn’t hesitate to make his way to her, ignoring the confused looks from Topper and Kelce as he walked straight passed them.

She didn’t have to guess who it was as she heard the door open, and she shot up, walking towards the pool, not wanting to speak to him just yet.

“Where are you running off to?” He says, a quizzical look on his face as he follows her down the garden, shoving his arms in his pockets.

“My best friend, Rafe, really?” She says, sass laced within her voice as she runs a hand through her hair, halting her movements as she stands right in front of the pool, the moonlight reflecting in the water ever so slightly.

“Nothing happened” he replied, and although he knew she would never believe it, he was telling the truth.

Yes, it’s true, Rafe may be known for having a wandering eye, but as Tara sat on the bed, trying her best to seduce him, he just knew no one could ever compare to her.

“Bullshit”

She scoffs at him, her features contorting with anger as she stares at the water ahead, knowing the second she looks at him, she would give in. “I know that we’re just friends” she starts, ignoring the despair in the pit of her stomach as she cringes at her own words.

“But friends don’t disrespect each other. And believe it or not Rafe, fucking my friends falls under that category” she shouts, her voice raised as she now turns to face him.

“I don’t give a fuck about your friends, okay. I’m right here with you, am I not?” He replies back, his frustration evident in his tone.

He wished she believed him. He wished she knew that sometimes, he couldn’t even sleep at night, too wound up in thinking about how soft her hair was, or how cute she looked in the mornings when they would wake up together, and she was wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“Yeah, after you had your fun” she mumbles quietly, but he heard it. Something in his mind clicked, and he wasn’t sure why it took him so long, but he finally figured out what was going on.

The corners of lips turned upwards into a shit eating grin, and she swore she had never been so close to punching him.

He takes a step forward, their shoes touching, and brings a finger to her chin, pushing her head up to look him straight in the eyes.

“Your jealous” he says teasingly, his features a picture of pure joy.

“Your insufferable” she says, rolling her eyes, trying her best to be rude even though he was right. But all he could concentrate on was the fact she didn’t even deny it.

Her poker face disappears as he moves her hair off her shoulders, bringing his head down to plant harsh kisses along her neck, biting the sweet spot in the way he knew she liked it.

“Admit it” he mumbles into her neck, his hot breath making her insides tingle.

She debated it for a second, before she decided she had a better idea.

She palmed his cock through his shorts, trying not to get distracted by him as he lifted his head up, mouth agape, his darkened eyes illustrating that he wanted to devour her mercilessly.

And when she knew he was fully distracted, she pushed him into the pool.

Rafe emerged from the rippling water, his wet hair clinging to her forehead, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“I wish I could say I’m sorry” she giggles, bending down and crouching to get a better look at him, ignoring the glare that painted his features.

His glare didn’t stay for long, too caught up in how cute her laugh was. The cogs in his brain turned as his eyebrows furrowed into a thoughtful look, and before she could react, he was tugging on her arms and pulling her into the pool with him.

“Fuck you!” She shouts, almost chocking on the water as she laughs, making sure to splash him in the face.

“All you have to do is ask, angel” he smirks, trailing his eyes down to her breasts, rejoicing in the way her hardened nipples were poking through her dress, like they were begging to be touched.

He swims towards her, skin glistening with water droplets, and she just couldn’t help but stare at him in absolute awe.

He dipped his head down, brushing his lips against hers, lingering there for a moment as he grabs her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and pushing her back against the pool wall. Her hands clung to his wet hair, and as she registered just how heavy her breathing was, she knew she was too far gone.

“Someone’s ganna see” she whispers, unable to concentrate when he’s touching her like this.

“Let them” he says, his voice hoarse. He brought his hand up to cup her flushed cheek, before their lips connected in a sweet kiss.

One draw at a time, yeah

One more, you'll be fine, yeah

And I swear she was right there

The blue glow and the night wear

“Tell me how you want it, angel” he mumbles into her collar bone, trailing sloppy kisses all the way down from her breasts to her stomach.

He had turned up to her house in the middle of the day, not even bothering to phone her. It was rare that they spent time together during daylight hours, but she wasn’t exactly complaining. And as always, it had taken him all of 5 minutes until he had her striped down to her underwear, her black lingerie set making his head rush.

“Slow” is all she says, and he’s a bit taken back, lifting himself up so their face to face again. Rafe was an experienced man, but never has he once had slow sex. She lifted her head into the krook of his neck, planting sweet kisses along his skin and up to his jawline, occasionally biting, but not enough to actually hurt him. He came to the conclusion then that as long as she kept kissing him like that, he would try anything for her.

He hooked his fingers in her underwear, pulling them down her legs and revealing her drenched pussy. It didn’t matter how many times Rafe saw her naked, each time still felt like the first.

He buried his head between her legs and kissed her throbbing clit, before lapping his tongue teasingly over the bundle of nerves, small whimpers leaving her mouth at the sensation. She dug her manicured nails into her sheets, and she could feel him smirk against her pussy.

“You like that?” He asks lowly, even though he already knew the answer. She nodded her head, screwing her eyes shut as his licks got harsher, but remained slow.

He placed one hand on her stomach as he ate her out, looking up at her blissful state, and as she moaned his name, he felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

He pulled away, climbing up her body to meet her face once again, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth as he lined himself up with her entrance, pushing his cock into her painfully slowly. The pit in her stomach grew heavier and heavier as he stretched her out, and he practically groaned into her mouth.

He started fucking her with slow but harsh strokes, gazing deeply into her eyes, and it dawned on him then that this felt like more than just sex. He trailed his thumb along her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth, watching as she sucked on it with lidded eyes, and as she looked up at him, she realised that his blue orbs had some green in them.

What he didn’t know, was that when he knocked on her door earlier that day, and she peered at him through her window, she decided that this had to be the last time they fucked. The jealousy and sadness that he brought on her was turning her into someone that she didn’t recognise, and she knew she had to stop before it was too late, before he had broke her completely.

She savoured every minute as he thrusted into her, digging her nails down his back, leaving little red marks. He replaced his thumb with his lips, tongue diving down her throat as she hummed into his mouth, their kiss sloppy as they were both moaning messes.

He buried his head in her neck, biting her shoulder gently as his eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed at how good this felt even though it wasn’t what he was used to.

The feeling was so bittersweet as she let a single tear roll down her red cheeks, tangling her hands in his hair, only now realising that she had fallen in love with Rafe Cameron, and now she was going to have to heal.

Girl, I've been taking it slow

You know I've been taking it slow

You're sitting alone, why are you sitting alone?

Baby, just pick up your phone, oh

'Cause I've been rolling all damn night, whoa

She took a sip of her champagne as she walked through the beautiful flower garden, mentally praising Toppers parents for choosing to get married in such a picturesque place.

Her hair was plaited into two, with daisy flowers weaved into her hair, sticking to the floral theme of the wedding, and her lilac silk dress was accompanied with matching heels.

She walked to the end of the establishment, making sure no one else was around, before retrieving a crumpled up joint and a lighter from her purse, wasting no time in lighting it, staring at all the luscious plants around her as her body started to relax.

She’s interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, and she almost gave herself whiplash with how fast she turned around.

“Jesus! Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to creep up on people?” She asks, eyes slightly wide as she takes a look at the man in front of her. He stood in a black suit, which she could tell was expensive, and a glass of whiskey sat in his ring clad hand, the condensation from the glass rolling down his fingers.

“Says the one getting stoned at a wedding” he says, smirking as he gestures to the lit joint in her hand.

“Hm, touché. But its the only way I’m going to be able to get through Toppers mums speech. I love Top with all my heart, but that woman is the devil” she says, taking a drag of her joint, watching as some of the loose embers fall onto the floor.

He laughs then, a real laugh, which for some reason melted her insides, and her cherry red lips turned upwards into a bright smile.

All Rafe could think about was how someone as beautiful as her could exist, and he didn’t even know about it. He made a mental note to punch Topper later for not introducing her to him.

“You like daisies?” He asks, and confusion fills her features for a second before she realised he’s talking about her hair.

“Uh, yeah. They were my mum’s favourite” she said, a certain dullness laying behind her eyes. His hands grew clammy as he put two and two together, but he didn’t say anything, not wanting to intrude on the personal life of a complete stranger.

“I like it. You kind of look like an angel” he says, and he clears his throat as he realised what he just said, his forwardness even shocking himself.

Her smile never wavered as he spoke, features lighting up at his kind words, and suddenly she needed to know who on earth this man was.

“I’m Y/N” she says, leaning her arm out to shake his, her dainty arms no match for his muscular ones.

“Rafe” he responds, mirroring her actions, and as soon as his skin touched hers, she had a feeling he was here to stay.

She sat alone in the island club, watching her phone light up as his contact came onto the slightly cracked screen, the small vibrations of her ringtone filling the room. Her head fell into her hands as she sighed, doing everything she could to go against her urges to answer the call.

She had been ignoring him for a few days, trying to detach herself, but every time he called, she got closer and closer to caving. Everything she did was for him, and now, everything she was doing was because of him, and it was so painful.

Rafe was at toppers with the boys, sipping on his whiskey as he held his phone up to his ear, listening to his ringer as the call went to voicemail for the third time that night.

“Fuck” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he shifted on the couch, the same couch where he had his first sinful encounter with her.

“Who are you calling?” Kelce says, eyes squinting with suspicion as he looks at Rafe, registering his stressed out state.

“No one” he replies, and it was impossible to miss the look that Kelce and Topper gave each other.

“Rafe, you might think you were being sneaky, but we know you’ve been seeing Y/N for months now. You guys are kinda obvious” Topper says, eyebrows raised as he confesses to his best friend, a small smile on his face.

“Plus, I saw you guys fucking in the pool the other night” Kelce says, and Rafe’s eyes widen.

“Shit” he says, not really sure what to say. For the first time in his life, he was stumped.

“You really like her, huh?” Topper says, always able to know what his best friend was thinking.

Rafe hesitated before nodding his head, taking another sip of his whiskey, rejoicing in the way it warmed his insides and numbed his pain.

“She won’t return my calls” he says, his mind a spiralling mess. He was trying to rack his brain to figure out what he had done wrong, but the more he thought about it the more confused he got.

“you have to make a gesture, something to show you care. Girls eat that shit up man” Topper said, patting Rafe on the back, Kelce nodding along with him. And as he was racking his brain for ideas, one thing did spring to mind.

Oh, baby, take a look around

I’m the only one that hasn’t walked out

I'm right here

She scanned the perimeter as she stepped onto the boat, the salty smell of the ocean wafting through the mid-day air. She spotted topper at the bar almost immediately, making some sort of cocktail concoction, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she walked up to him.

“Your late” Topper says as he spots her, the sound of the blender making it hard for her to hear, but she did.

“Fashionably late” she corrects him, gesturing to her matching bikini, lifting her sunglasses off of her eyes and resting them on her head, her hair cascading off her shoulders elegantly.

“Why am I here anyway? Frozen Margarita’s don’t really seem like much of an emergency” she says, eyebrows raised as an amused look paints her features.

“Oh but it is. I need you to test my recipe” he says, and as much as she wanted to be annoyed for dragging her out here for no reason, a margarita did sound good.

“Can you go get me some more lime juice from downstairs?” he says, and she nodded her head in response, placing her purse down on the bar before heading for the stairs.

The heels of her wedges clicked as she walked down the wooden stairs, heading straight to the downstairs bar. She flicked through the cupboards as she tried to find the desired lime juice, before her eyes landed on a glass vase which sat in the middle of the bar.

She drew in a sharp breath as she gazed at the bouquet of fresh daisies, accompanied by a card with her name on it, and her eyebrows furrowed. She brought her hand up to stroke the fragile petals, and the memory of her mother plagued her mind.

“What the-“

“They were your mother’s favourite” a male voice says, and she didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “I remembered”

He pulled on her heartstrings as he stood in the doorway, a baseball cap sitting backwards lazily on his head, and a crooked smile on his ruby red lips that she could never get tired of, no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t believe he remembered such a small detail like that, and she began to think maybe her prejudice towards him was all wrong.

“Rafe” she says quietly, clearly in shock, her doe eyes wide as he makes his way to her, and holy shit, he never really could get over how his name rolled off her tongue so sweetly.

“What are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do since the day we met” he said, and she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but stare at him in awe as goosebumps formed along her tanned skin, melting into his touch as he brought a hand up to her cheek, stroking the skin with his thumb before cupping her cheek in his hand.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick. I’m sorry I made all these stupid rules for us, like no cuddling, or keeping us a secret, because the truth is, every time your near, it takes every ounce of my self restraint not to touch you, or not to tell you that every inch of me belongs to you” he says, wrapping one hand around her waist, pressing her body against his, and she prayed he couldn’t feel how fast hear heart was beating right now.

“I only did those things because I was scared of actually letting someone in” he says, finally letting himself breathe as he paused. “Scared of having to admit that I love you, angel”

She grinned like a cheshire cat as he finished his sentence, admiring the way his cheeks blushed with a faint redness as he poured his heart out, and she swung her arms around his neck tightly, never wanting to let go.

“I love you too” she says, before reaching up on her tiptoes and claiming his lips in a gentle kiss.

“You know i would do anything for you, right?” She whispers against his lips, practically breathing the same air as him, and just like that, his signature smirk was back.

“Well in that case, how about you start with taking this flimsy thing off” he says, pulling on the straps of her bikini top, a small giggle leaving her glossy lips as she playfully hit his arm.

“Gross. Please don’t” Topper says, and they both jumped out of their skin as they spotted him in the doorway, arm leant against the wooden frame with a smug look on his face.

“Jesus! How long have you been standing there?”

Oh, baby take a look around

I'm the only one that hasn't walked out

I'm right here

[brokenlovesong]

The JPC Darrel analysis I promised

Alright guys same deal as the last with just as much chaos. Sorry this took three years

Anyways. JPC DARREL LETS GET INTO IT

So he plays the youngest Darrel, no doubt. He’s tall but much smaller both physically and the way he portrays himself on stage. Using this he really plays into it. He’s a much less angry Darrel, more tied than anything else.

I think runs in the family reprise is where his version of Darrel really shines. He plays it very differently from Brent, Victor, or even Dan. He’s just so tired of it all. He doesn’t even start yelling until the end once pony has pushed him to his brink. When he sits down during the “you don’t tell me when you’re coming home lately” line it’s much less confrontational. He’s trying to stay calm and reason with his brother. It’s not until the “tired of lifting you up” part that he’s finally losing control and breaking. That’s the first time I think I genuinely saw him angry and even then he’s consciously trying to reign himself in but pony keeps pushing. And dude he YELLS “You have no idea what I give up for you” and because he didnt spend the song nearly as angry as like Brent does, that scared me so much because he just snapped.

I wanna talk about the scene between Darrel and dally because that scene was done in a way I’ve never seen it before by both Jpc and Josh Boone. Jpc is a much less physically intimidating Darrel. Especially compared to Josh Boone. That was taken into account by both of them which I have to give so much praise for because they did such a wonderful job. Darrel went in thinking he could push dally into revealing. He clearly had no intent to fight him. He was taunting him. But let me tell you dally knew how to play Darrel like a fiddle. He knew exactly what buttons to push in a way Darrel couldn’t. While he normally yells half that scene, dally didn’t raise his voice ONCE. He was even SMILING at the end because he wanted Darrel to swing at him. Dally loves fights and he knows he could easily win against jpc Darrel. So he played him. Decided to see how far he could push because if Darrel swung he could easily take him. Absolutely fantastic scene and lemme tell you Josh Boone calmly speaking the last bit of the scene with a smile? ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

Now throwing in the towel. So jpc flubbed the first part and bro I’ve never been more stressed (probably not as stressed as him tho LMAO) but he managed to keep it together which I give him so much credit for. He took his anxiety and stress and used that as a focus for his acting the rest of the scene. Other actors usually play this scene as very defeated. But he was much more anxious about pony and what’s to come next. And tbh this is the most in it I’ve ever seen Jason. Now I love Jason but I have found his acting style to be more passive then I’d like in some scenes (JUST MY OPINION PLEASE DONT ATTACK ME) I think because of what happened to jpc not only was he soda trying to comfort Darrel, I saw Jason trying to comfort jpc and it made the scene so much more beautiful and strong.

Overall, jpc Darrel is wonderful. My only main issue is that I felt like he read too similar in age to Brody as ponyboy and frankly Jason read older than him. Nothing to do with his acting. Jpc is an incredible actor. But I just feel like with the cast the way they are, while he reads as Darrel’s actual age, much of the cast reads older than their characters and so this does affect how he’s seen.

I did see him as soda too, with Dan darry, and I thought he was literally like who I envisioned soda to be when I read the book. Like he gave such soda energy it was incredible

[saturnville]

all yours, jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x black fem oc (adeba malina). warnings: sexual insinuations. song: all yours by normani an: I don’t remember the last time I wrote a one-shot this long. and I came out of football retirement for this, so let me know how you like it! 🫶🏾 also, can anyone guess what position I played? 👀

“I don’t have an interest in pursuing a relationship with Jude. He’s a great guy but…”

Jude Bellingham, the world’s wonder boy, had become a staple in her life over the last few months following his multi-million dollar transfer to Real Madrid, but not for the reasons that people thought. They met during a dinner celebrating his transfer and hit it off immediately.

“Congratulations,” she said cooly and sat next to the young footballer. When her voice registered in his ears and her face came into view, his eyes grew wide and he looked like a child in a candy store. “I’m Adeba Malina.”

She needed no introduction. He knew exactly who she was. Former Madridista turned business-woman. She was known as one of the greatest center midfielders of her time; her speed, agility, and vision for a pathway to the goalbox were praised by the highest of heavens. Ronaldo’s protege and a Madrid icon. Adeba Malina was a football legend.

“Jude.” His hand engulfed hers as he shook it firmly yet delicately. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Adeba pushed a strand of hair away from her face and nodded once, taking in the footballer with a quick sweep of her eyes. He wore a crisp black suit with a complimentary black tie against the freshly pressed white shirt. He was handsome, but she didn’t let her mind go past that. Rather she said, “I trust you’ll do big things with Los Blancos. I’m excited to see what you do on the pitch.”

He was bashful, she noticed, his brown skin suddenly growing red and a small smile on his lips, “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

“No problem at all. You enjoy your dinner, but a piece of advice, if I may.” Jude sat up intently. Adeba leaned over, her lips close to his ear as she tried to speak over the rowdy individuals around her. “You have nothing to prove to anyone. You’re young, gifted, and Black. They’ll do and say anything to make you look bad and to get in your head. Perfect your craft, do your best, and keep moving. There’s nothing to prove.”

Jude met her eyes for the first time that night. The prettiest shade of brown with specks of caramel. They held care and intentionality, just like the words she spoke, and he digested them like his favorite food. It was at that moment that Jude knew she’d be a good person in his life.

“But what?”

Adeba cursed to herself as she sorted through her jerseys for one to wear. Zizou. Ramos. Varane. Ronaldo. Beckham. Rodríguez. Malina. Bellingham. She snatched it off the hangar and onto her bed behind her. It would make do, and it would be cute with her newest navy blue heels and straight-leg jeans. “But,” she started after some time. “He’s younger than me and we’re just friends.”

The woman behind her scoffed audibly. “He’s barely 3 years younger than you, not 12. And you just went through 6 jerseys, knowing you have kits dating back to the 90s, including your own, to wear his, as you do for almost every home match. Don’t play with me.” And there it was. The bluntness and honesty of Colombia’s very own Dawn Nalinja, data analyst turned interior designer.

The two crossed paths at an event in Barcelona four years prior and had been inseparable ever since. So much so that their homes were in the same building, four floors apart. They were quite literally, two peas in a pod.

Adeba sighed and began getting dressed for the match against Dortmund. “Look, I just don’t think every friendship needs to transition to a relationship. Jude is good people and you don’t have to have to romanticize everything with good people.”

Dawn blinked, one, two, three times before sighing. “While that may be true, it’s best to romanticize aspects of your life with a good person, especially before they get swiped by someone else. You won’t know until you give it a try and that goes for anyone, not just Jude. But, we’ll leave that there. Are you ready?”

Adeba slid her feet into her shoes, fluffed her braids, and swiped her purse off the bed. She ignored the feeling within her chest and smiled softly as she tried not to think too hard on what Dawn had mentioned. “Ready!”

-

And as predicted, Los Blancos took the victory. Adeba always adored the energy of the stadium during victories, no matter who won. There was joy in seeing fans jump for joy, holler the chants of their favorite players, and take pictures with the players who’d walked by.

By the end of the match, Dawn had scurried off with her significant other, leaving Adeba to wait in the tunnel for Jude as she typically would.

She tapped her fingers against the wall as she waited for his exit, and when he came into view, the smile she didn’t realize she had on her face widened. “Hey, champ.”

Jude welcomed the greeting and returned it with a hug and a kiss against her cheek. Adeba felt warm as his arm circled around her waist and his fingers brushed against the loops of her jeans. Dangerous territories. “Thank you, Dee. What’re you doing after?”

Adeba shrugged as she stepped back to put distance between them, but it still hadn’t forced his hand to drop from her waist. If anything, it made his grip tighter. She ignored the pulsing between her thighs and said, “I planned to go home.” Her bed was always a wonderful place to be.

Jude nodded once. “Want to come to dinner with me? Not in the mood to party, but I could eat.”

Her head turned to the side and her braids swayed with it. “Just us?” The corner of Jude’s lips rose in amusement at her question. He couldn’t recall a time when them being alone mattered so much before, but with the way her breath quickened, he knew it was deeper than what she let on.

Adeba grew nervous underneath his gaze. His brown eyes were focused on her. How had she not realized how pretty they were? A rich shade of mahogany, a portal to a place unknown.

She exhaled shakily. He answered her question: “Just us.”

-

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adebamalina. hala madrid y nada más. congratulación a los blancos para la victoria 🤍 ft the wonder boy himself

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username stunning

username 😍

— adebamalina thank you honey

username the braids!!!

judebellingham 🤍🤍🤍 always grateful for your support

— adebamalina so proud of you.

username. just get tg alr

— judebellingham liked your comment!

username. I know yall saw Jude like her comment!

username. the prettiest wag out!

-- username. girl, she’s not a wag. just a rm legend

-- username. she’s always with jude, so she might as well be. two for one special atp

-- judebellingham liked your comment!

username. real madrid legends fr

— adebamalina and judebellingham liked your comment!

georginagio we still need to have our shopping date!!

— adebamalina I’ll book a flight in a few weeks! and tell Cris and the kids I said hello!

username. okay but fr when are they getting tg?

— saturnville girl idk I haven’t thought that far yet

-

“Stay with me tonight.”

If Adeba lived in an animated world, she would have heard her feet squeal like brakes when she stopped suddenly. She turned slowly to see Jude standing with one hand in his pocket while the other held her blue heels, a straight look on his face. “As in…?” Adeba pushed for further explanation. Sure, they’d hung out before at each other’s places and in other public spaces, but his words hinted at something more.

“Movies, snacks, and I’ll whoop your ass in Uno. Just something chill. I just…didn’t want the night to end this early.”

Adeba sighed heavily. She wanted to deny him. To tell him that wasn’t a line that needed to be crossed. That she was nothing more than a friend, a mentor in a way, to push him to be his best self in his professional and personal life, but how could she? With the way he looked down on her and not in a condemning way. But with a look of adoration. His eyebrows were relaxed and his eyes were soft. His body language spoke of comfortability in her presence with how his shoulders were low and slightly rounded above her body. Like a guard.

She wanted to tell him she’d go home, that she didn’t want to blur any lines. She wanted to admit that she had no feelings for him at all, but then she’d be lying, and one thing Adeba Malina hated was a liar.

Adeba pondered on it longer. Her teeth captured her bottom lip as her mind worked to weigh the pros and the cons. They were friends, just friends. Friends who were potentially spending the night together…alone. With any other guy friend, the idea would have repulsed her. But when it came to Jude, something within her sparked with curiosity at the idea of staying the night with him.

Maybe Dawn was right. If everything aligned, would it be worth a try?

Adeba finally met his eyes again and nodded. “Okay.”

-

“You started playing at 17 for Real. Is that how you met Cristiano?” Jude asked inquisitively and passed the bag of candy to Adeba, who sat on her knees in front of him. She nodded and popped a few Nerds in her mouth.

“Correct. The men’s team came to visit the women’s practice and of course, we’re football fanatics just like you, so having these legends visit us and give us advice was amazing. Cris always gave me good advice, especially being that we both came from nothing. So, I try to pour into you what he and many others pour into me.”

Jude couldn’t help but smile. From what she’d shared, she was Ghana-born and raised in Spain once her parents moved at the age of five. She couldn’t take much with her when traveling to Europe, but what she did take was a soccer ball her father had gotten her, which she kept in a glass case in her jersey closet. Growing up she didn’t have much, but she had her ball, and that was enough for her.

What she didn’t know was that the ball would grant her and her siblings an education, her parents a home, and her family stability that would continue even when she left the Earth. Football saved her in more ways than one. She understood what it was like to fall in love with it and she also understood the challenges that came with it. And that was what she enjoyed sharing with others. The journey of loving the game.

“I appreciate that,” he replied. There was a silence between them, a comfortable one. “I still can’t believe you kicked my ass four times.” His tone was teasing, she knew, but she could hear a hint of seriousness. She shrugged and smiled.

“A torn ACL took me out the game, but you can never take the game out of me, baby. I do this.” It was his turn to get flustered. Baby. It was a casual pet name and he knew she meant nothing by it but he wanted to hear it over and over.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get you back eventually.”

Adeba’s eyebrow raised, “Is this a challenge, Mr. Bellingham?” His eyes met hers. There was a glint of mischief behind her which displayed her fun and teasing nature. But, behind the mischief, her eyes grew darker and the smirk on her lips grew wider, especially as he began to visibly crumble under her gaze.

“Maybe,” was all he could get out.”Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And there it was. The ambiguous statement that left the two of them wondering what the other meant. But she knew. He knew. It was his comment that seemed to shorten the invisible string between them that seemed to wrap around the world. Suddenly, it was just inches long andt the only thing that kept their bodies from pressing against one another’s in a heated exchange of passion.

“Is that so?” Adeba’s tongue circled around her cheek, a subtle action that left Jude’s stomach clenching. He nodded.

The space between them continued to dwindle. They were once separated by the middle cushion of the couch, but now, they could feel the warmth from each other’s breath fanning against their faces. Jude, making the first move, brought his hand to her bare face, fingers caressing her skin. She was so beautiful. Rich complexion with beauty marks and faded acne scars that added to her uniqueness. Her lips were so full. His thumb drummed against them. “Pretty girl…”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Please…”

Before she could say anything else, his mouth was on hers. Adeba felt her inhibitions slip away as their lips moved together. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of kissing him and what it’d be like. She expected something sweet. Nah, this was a grown kiss. Passionate and intense, borderline sloppy and nasty. Exactly how she liked it.

Adeba couldn’t remember how she ended up on her back with her bare legs around his waist as he kissed and sucked along the skin of her neck, but she chose not to think of it too much. She refused to be the reason why the moment was ruined.

Jude enjoyed every moment. From feeling her legs tense around his waist and shuddering as her manicured nails snuck under his shirt to trail along his abdomen to hearing her whisper his name so delicately. Jude. She drove him insane.

But, as much as he wanted to keep going, he knew she deserved more than a heated makeout on his couch at two in the morning with no clear expression of his feelings. So, he broke away from her, which was met with a very cute yet very confused expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Jude smiled and shook his head. He used his thumb to wipe the corners of her mouth which were damp from their heated exchange. “Nothing, I just…I like you a lot. In a more than friends way and I think you should know that before anything else happens. It’s only right.” Adeba’s eyes sparkled at his comment. “And…I’d like to take you out. On a real date. Just us. Then maybe, if you’re up to it, we can see how far this goes.”

Adeba smiled. “I’d like that.”

Damn it, Dawn.

-

6 months later…

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adebamalina my man, my man, my man

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dawnnalinjaaaa finally!!!! y’all were pissing me off

-- adebamalina yeah yeah yeah

cristiano ❤️

adebamalina liked your comment!

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normani so so so happy for you honey

georginagio double date!!!

username okay hard launch

judefanpage I’m glad he cuffed her before I did

-- username you’re so real for this

-

“Baby, we’ve got somewhere to beeee.” Adeba’s words were dragged out as she grew distracted by his lips against her neck and his front pressed against her back. “Jude…”

He hummed softly, massaging her hips as she struggled to finish the finishing touches on her makeup. They had a date to celebrate their six month anniversary but it seemed as though Jude wasn’t in a hurry to make it to their reservation on time. “You look pretty, love. Pretty and all mine.”

All yours, she replied. Jude’s eyes swept across her body. Adeba looked stunning. She wore a red dress that flowed every step she took. Her hair was curly, her makeup was bright and beautiful, and of course, her full lips were just begging to be kissed.

“Thank you,” she said, dropping her makeup products down. She turned in his arms and smiled. Her hands were against his chest and she soothed his suit jacket with her palms. “You look very handsome as always. Let’s go.”

Adeba took a step back to go find her heels and purse, but was stopped by his lips on hers. Jude swallowed every moan she released and allowed it to fuel the fire that burned within him. She circled her arm around his neck as their kiss intensified. She’d never get enough of this.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips.

Adeba smiled. “I love you too.”

[californ1asnow]

All Too Well - Mike Schmidt x Reader angst

part two here Reader has trauma from neglectful parents that leaves her constantly in the, “I can fix him mentality,” paired with obvious daddy issues. Slight trigger warning for physical abuse?

Word count 2k+

loosely based on the song, “All Too Well,” by Taylor Swift

Hurt no comfort

Subtle static hums in the background, enveloping the room in near-silence. The moon, having ascended to its rightful spot in the night sky, bathes Mike's house in a gentle, luminous glow that seeps through his curtains. Your body is entwined in the embrace of silk bed sheets, lying in quiet anticipation beside him. The familiar sensation of his gentle breath tickling lightly against the nape of your neck.

A month has passed since the nightmarish ordeal of Mike's former job. Through it all, you have stood by him with everything, and that loyalty has persisted since the aftermath. After his departure from Fredy's, Mike's night terrors have taken a darker turn, far worse than anything he had experienced before. You've attempted to gently coax the truth from him in the past, but he never divulged the full extent of his nightmares. It didn’t really matter to begin with, instead what truly matters is ensuring his sanity once he wakes up from these tormenting dreams.

You’d met Mike a few years ago after moving into the house next door. Looking for a new babysitter, he had offered you the job of watching Abby while he was away, and you agreed without hesitation. Gradually, the three of you formed a tight-knit bond, uniting through shared experiences of lacking any parental figures. Abby particularly admired you in various ways, given the absence of a strong female role model in her life.

Your relationship with Mike is, well, complicated. Sometimes the both of you would swear your bond is entirely platonic, absolutely nothing but friends. Defending swiftly against Abby’s claims that you two are secretly in love. However, the stolen gazes and lingering touches beg to differ. The line that marks the difference between friendship and romance is hazy, leaving you to wonder about the true tone of your relationship. Neither of you had crossed the physical line that tread into a more amorous kinship, so you could argue that there aren’t any subtle intimate undertones. But, your current situation doesn’t help that defense.

Your gaze is fixated upon the ceiling, circling through the darkness. Mike’s arms are wrapped securely around your waist, like an anchor thrown to sea, cementing you to your spot next to him. He’s recently ditched the need for his nature sounds, instead opting to listen to your heartbeat in an attempt to fall asleep.

It started right after he left the security job, claiming that he was done trying to relive the same dream every night.

“How are you going to fall asleep then?” You had asked him, brows furrowed and questioning.

He stopped for a moment, pondering your question intently. That thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet, and now that you mentioned it he couldn’t think of a tangible way to do it. Frowning, he looked back up to you with a shrug.

A soft sigh escaped your lips. It was troubling enough having to watch Mike struggle the past few years with his sleeping, and knowing it’s going to get worse made you uneasy. You glanced away from him before speaking, “You know, I read somewhere about how listening to the heartbeat of someone you trust helps calm the fight or flight response in your brain…” Words trailing off in a futile attempt of masking your embarrassment, your cheeks flushed pink.

From that suggestion, it became a nightly routine. Although you lived next door, you had been spending the last few weeks laying in Mike’s bed. Letting him drift asleep to the sound of your steady heart, with his head pressed comfortably against your chest. Once you were sure he was asleep, you’d slip away either to his couch or back into your own bed at home. You couldn’t complain about it though, the warmth in your stomach that rose from his touch wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to give up on. You’d forgo everything if it meant he could be happy.

Just as you were about to make the move to leave, you feel him stir next to you. The sound of frantic mumbling pulling you away from your thoughts, and when you turn over to face Mike you find that he’s contorted with panic. Eyes still shut, he’s trashing in his sleep, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. The hand closest to your own starts to twitch wildly, and you begin to realize he’s having another nightmare.

Waking him up during one of his nightmares is essential. You know how much it torments him to relive the same traumatic memories repeatedly night after night. Your gentle touch is the only lifeline connecting him back to reality. With a soft grasp of his shoulder, you nudge him lightly, whispering his name. “Mike,” your voice is gentle, attempting to lull him peacefully awake, “it’s just a dream, wake up.”

Mike’s eyes snap open wide, dark with terror. Frantically, he searches the room for danger, still stuck temporarily in a flashback. His chest rises and falls heavily, breath ragged and uncontrolled.

Hurriedly, he shoots up into a sitting position, ready to defend himself against a potential threat. Your heart breaks into a million pieces seeing him so upset. “You’re home,” you tell him, a hand reaching out to grasp onto him.

Suddenly, the weight of your mistake dawns upon you. In a swift motion, his fist hurtles towards you, and you barely manage to dodge it, swiftly ducking to avoid the blow.

The rate of your defense isn’t fast enough compared to his attack, and you catch the tail end of his clenched fist. A yelp of pain sounding from you, immediately bringing Mike out of shock.

When his eyes finally adjust to the darkness, he sees you sitting on the edge of his bed, back turned to him. His gaze snaps down to his hand, still closed in a shaking fist. Regret instantly flooding his system, he calls out your name nervously. Without turning around, you wave him off dismissively.

He moves off the bed, crouching down in front of you. Staring up at you from his position, he can’t see your face that’s burrowed behind hesitant hands. Warm fingers wrap gently around your wrists, asking for permission to move them. “Please,” he begs, “let me see, I’m so sorry.”

Instinctively, you let him pull your hands away, revealing the damage he had accidentally inflicted upon you. A dark crimson trickles down your chin, flowing from the split of your bottom lip. Mike’s thumb gently glides across the swollen skin, his touch feather light.

He fully sinks to his knees, a muffled sob wracking his body. He can hardly bring himself to face you, to face what he did to you. Accidental or not, he inflicted pain onto you, something completely opposite from what he’d promised to do.

Your eyes well up with hot tears seeing how upset Mike is. You let a gentle hand grasp at his chin, tilting his face upwards so that he’s forced to catch your gaze. “Mike,” your voice is as tender as you can will it to be, “I’m okay, I promise. It was not your fault.”

Broken apologies fly from his mouth, ignoring your statement completely. His mind was too focused on the bruise that’s sure to form rather than what you have to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice trembling.

“Stop,” you tell him softly, trying to get him to calm down.

“I’ll fix this, let me fix this. God, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m not angry with you, it’s okay.”

You pull him up from his spot on the floor. Shaky arms wrapping around his middle, all the while he’s protesting against the idea of you being close to him again.

“It was a nightmare, you were just having a nightmare. I shouldn’t have grabbed you so suddenly, I should’ve known better. Please stop blaming yourself.” Your voice comes out more timid than you would have liked it to. Deep down you knew he never would have done that consciously, but you couldn’t stop the anxiety from overtaking you completely.

Your need to take care of Mike in his frantic state is more overbearing than the one to help yourself.

He knows this too, and whether he’s doing it intentionally or not, he’s been clinging to that notion for the past few years. He’d let you just close enough that you’d give him the comfort he wanted, but pushed you away when you became too attached. Keeping you at arm's length was enough to satisfy whatever comfort he’s been deprived of most of his life.

But now he realizes how much of a mistake it all was. You are hurt because of him. Because he’s been too wrapped up in his own issues to see how any of this could have affected you in the slightest. And now that it’s glaringly obvious, he can’t stand to keep you dangling like this.

He mutters your name regretfully, causing you to break your hold and look up at him. “You need to leave,” his voice is weak, strained from crying.

You shake your head in disapproval, “Mike I don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“You can’t be around me anymore!”

Silence. That’s all you could respond with to his raised voice. Mike had never yelled at you, or Abby for that matter, and hearing it is startlingly different from his usual tone.

Years of repressed memories come back flooding you like a tidal wave. All of the moments you locked yourself away in your room because you couldn’t deal with the screams of an angry parent anymore, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Your immediate action is to pull the pieces back together and fix everything. You could do that.

You must have done something wrong if he’s yelling at you, right?

“Wait, wait, wait,” desperately you start to plead with him, “I did something wrong. Don’t do this, please.”

“Just go, please.”

“No, I can’t. There has to be something-“

“Go.”

His volume is lowered but his words cut just as deeply. You know there’s no point in arguing now, his mind is clearly made up.

Solemnly, you get up without another word. Gathering what little you brought over, and you leave without saying goodbye.

—

You could just barely hold yourself together enough to walk through the front door of your house. Knowing you were secure behind your walls, free from the gaze of any onlooking neighbors, you collapse entirely against the wooden floor of your home.

Everything replayed in your mind on loop, from the moment you woke Mike up to his last few words. The confusion, anger, resentment, and sadness fueled the hot tears running down your face.

You feel like a tiny child again, curled up in a ball sobbing as silently as your body allows you to be. Left to be wondering why it’s always your fault that people are upset, and how you can change it so they aren’t.

You think about your relationship with Mike, wondering if it’s truly over now. All you ever wanted to do was help him, so why did it feel like you’re the one being punished?

It was as if you were stuck in that position on the floor forever, caught in a web of remembrance. Every aspect of your so called friendship with Mike questioned intently in your mind.

You think he might have tried calling you a few times the days after that incident, but your phone was set to silence and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it. Despite the burning urge to check up on him and Abby, you kept your distance.

Time had moved too slowly when you needed it the most. Healing wounds won’t close when they’re constantly torn open the second you step outside the house and spot Mike’s across from yours. The best you could do is to keep busy with work and avoid staying home as much as possible. You made sure Mike couldn’t catch you in person to talk, and with your phone rejecting his calls it had been months since you last heard from him.

Guilt gnaws at the back of your mind. It shouldn’t take a fight like this to undo years of close connection between you two so quickly. But you felt like there was no other option, he had told you to leave him and you did.

The only thing you’re left with is your hurt and his memories, forever replaying in the back of your mind.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Naughty or Nice?

| "I'm talkin' deckin' all the halls, I'm talkin' spikin' eggnog. I'm talkin' opposite of small, I'm talkin' big snowballs. You got a new toy for me, I'm out here trimmin' the tree. I caught that holiday glee, my true love gave it to me." |

“Go to bed girls,” Coriolanus says once more, only his head pokes through the opening of the doors. He watches the girls giggle, doing their best to convince him that they’ll be on their best behavior but they probably won’t.

“If you don’t go to sleep then Santa won’t come and bring you presents.”

The girls gasp and shush each other making him grin. Lying about Santa isn’t the best thing to do but it’s earned him stellar behavior from all three of his children the past month.

The moment one of them was on the cusp of a tantrum, Coriolanus was threatening to tell Santa. Soarynn had chided him on it, claiming it wasn’t fair to hold it over their heads but he figured he only had ten years with each child before they started putting two and two together so he wouldn’t waste this precious momentum.

And the children were excellently behaved tonight. He took his family to the ballet with some good friends of theirs and then they ended the night at one of their favorite restaurants. The children ate all their food and used their best manners.

At twenty-six, Coriolanus Snow feels on top of the world. He’s doing great at work, has a beautiful home, and the perfect wife who's blessed him with three perfect, beautiful children.

Coriolanus closes the doors to his eldest daughter’s bedroom feeling very pleased with how his life has turned out so far.

His girls had begged to sleep in the same bed so they could wait for Santa and he eventually gave in after enough pouting.

He makes his way through the living room, admiring their beautiful tree. Soarynn decorated it beautifully with red garlands and golden accents along with shiny ornaments. Tons of presents sit under the tree, gifts for the family from the family.

He’ll have to slip the ones from Santa under the tree later tonight once the children are really asleep. Even if they were little tyrants tonight, there’s no way in hell he’d let any of those presents go to waste. He’s spent a small fortune on them, well, his wife spent a small fortune on them.

He was simply the one writing the check.

He walks into the kitchen and eyes the plate of cookies they left for Santa. They do look quite delicious and that glass of warm milk is calling his name.

He licks his lips, maybe a little late-night treat wouldn’t hurt. He’s just about the grab a cookie when his wife’s voice scares the shit out of him, “Coriolanus Snow.”

He jumps and turns around, giving her a sheepish smile while she stands under the doorway, hands on her hips, not looking too impressed with his behavior, “I was a bit peckish,” he explains.

Soarynn raises an eyebrow, “Those are for Santa,” she nods at the plate of decorated cookies, “not for you.”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, certainly no one would’ve noticed if he ate one cookie. And he’s going to have to take a bite out of one before the children wake up so why not get a head start? “You don’t want to get a lump of coal in your stocking,” Soarynn tells him.

To Soarynn’s credit, they’ve had a wonderful holiday season. She’s made sure that they’ve done every activity under the sun from meeting Santa to going sledding. She’s not about to let him throw all her hard work down the drain, “Are the children asleep?” She asks, stepping into the kitchen. Coriolanus hums, eyeing the cookies one last time, “Yes darling, tucked into bed with sugarplums dancing above their heads or however the song goes.”

Soarynn smiles, but not her usual smile, no, this smile has sinister intentions behind it. “Good, because I have a gift for you.”

Oh, well that’s not sinister at all.

“Really? Well I’ll open it tomorrow morning darling,” he says, going to the cupboard to grab himself a wine glass, they might as well end the night watching a film while cuddling on the sofa.

“It’s for tonight.”

He looks over his shoulder at Soarynn who bats her eyelashes at him, “Come to our room in fifteen minutes,” she instructs. She leaves before he can ask any questions and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. Soarynn isn’t one for random surprises, no, she values routine above everything else.

He begins to think of the worst, perhaps she broke something and was waiting for a good time to tell him. Maybe she wants him to hang up another picture frame, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Or…or maybe she got another kitten.

Coriolanus suddenly feels lightheaded and grips the counter for support. His entire life is flashing before his eyes. Two cats are diabolical. He’ll have to put his foot down, simple as that. He’s the man of the house and he simply cannot tolerate two Petunias.

He might as well have that wine now. Heaven knows he’ll need it.

Fifteen minutes pass at an agonizing pace, too slow for him to handle but Soarynn won’t let him into their bedroom a minute earlier. He knows that much.

He glances up at the clock and sighs, it’s finally ten o’clock. Time to face his doom.

He finishes off his wine and sets the glass in the sink before trudging down the hallway to their bedroom. He’s so busy feeling sorry for himself that he doesn’t even notice the rose petals on the floor leading up to their bedroom. Only when he’s about to open the doors does he realize that her gift could be something very different.

He cautiously opens the doors, peeking his head in just in case and what he sees causes his jaw to go slack.

Soarynn. On the bed. Wearing red sheer tights with lingerie under the tights and a red bow wrapped around her waist. She’s wearing a gorgeous red lacy bralette as well and she looks like an absolute vision.

She’s sitting on her knees, wearing a proud smile when she sees his shocked expression.

“Come in darling,” she purrs, beckoning him in with the wave of her finger.

Like the lovesick fool he is, Coriolanus stumbles into the bedroom like he’s in a trance, shutting the doors behind him and swearing to treat this woman like the goddess she is for the rest of their lives.

“This is…this is something,” he finally says, stopping once he reaches the bed. Soarynn softly chuckles and pops up on her knees so that they’re almost at the same height, “I just wanted to give you an extra special gift, you know, for all you do for me.”

Coriolanus swallows when she goes to undo his tie, “All I…all I do for you?” He squeaks when she pulls the tie off him, “Mhm, all you do to take care of me,” she sweetly explains, undoing the buttons on his shirt next. “You take such good care of me Coryo and I just wanted to find a special way to thank you.”

Coriolanus decides right then and there that he’s the luckiest man alive.

And she looks so gorgeous. Her hair and makeup are the same from the ballet and dinner. Parted down the side with light yet perfect makeup to enhance her natural beauty.

He rests a hand on her hip and resists the urge to rip these tights right off of her. But he should be patient. Yes, patient. But he’s never been good at being patient. That’s Soarynn’s specialty.

“Well this is very nice,” he tells her, helping her slide off his white shirt, baring his chest to her, “very, very nice. Where did you get the bow?”

Soarynn smiles up at him, “It’s a secret.”

Right.

“Alright, well can I unwrap my present now?” He asks with a teasing smile, desperate to get his hands on her and more importantly, get her under him.

Soarynn shakes her head and it damn near crushes his hopes and dreams, “Not yet,” she says softly, dragging her hand down his chest towards his belt, “first, I want to give you a smaller gift.” Soarynn cups his hardened length right through his trousers and smirks when he gasps. She’s never ever been this straightforward and he can’t help but ask.

Who is this woman and what has she done with his shy, timid little wife?

The Soarynn he knows rarely ever engages in sexual activity first, she always lets him take the lead which he doesn’t mind at all. He loves being in charge and loves that she trusts him enough to do the things they do but this behavior is entirely different.

“Oh,” is all he says, his voice a croak.

Soarynn nods and slowly unbuckles his belt, "You've just been so stressed darling," she says, almost like she's pouting, "so busy with work, providing for our family. Sometimes you don't even come to bed until early in the morning."

Well, well...well, she has a point. The holiday season is always hectic with work and despite it being a "family-oriented holiday", Coriolanus always finds himself buried in end-of-the-year paperwork. Soarynn understands, of course, someone has to pay the bills but she's taking matters into her own hands it seems.

Literally.

She lets the belt fall to the ground and unzips his trousers at an agonizing pace, like she's teasing him and he's not even fully naked yet. Coriolanus feels frozen, only allowed to watch her palm his length while looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, like a little vixen.

"Sit down," she says and he nearly sits on the floor. "On the chair," she elaborates pointing over at the sitting area they have in their room.

Who is he to disobey her?

He kicks off his trousers and walks over to the armchair he sits in every night before getting ready for bed. He slowly sinks into the chair and watches with great fascination as Soarynn slowly slips off the bed. Now that she's standing, he can fully admire her outfit and can see that she's wearing red high heels as well.

She's going to fucking kill him.

She's wearing this proud smirk because she knows, she knows she's got him in the palm of her hand.

Once she reaches him and bends down until her lips are ghosting his, "Keep your hands on the chair," she whispers, looking into his eyes with such ferocity that he almost feels scared.

He nods and Soarynn smiles. She carefully sinks down in front of him, on her knees once again and his cock is begging to be touched. Soarynn slips a finger under the waistband of his boxers, causing his breath to hitch. He is the one who teases her like this, but he surprisingly doesn't mind that the roles have been reversed.

Soarynn hums and finally pulls down his boxers, releasing his cock that's already gathered precum at the tip. Soarynn gently grabs it and starts stroking it up and down, up and down. Coriolanus clenches his teeth, it feels so fucking good. He wishes he could just grab her hair like he usually does but he's under specific orders to keep his hands away from her.

He knows what she really meant by that demand: "Stop throat fucking me you impatient, unappreciative bastard."

Soarynn never complains when giving him a blow job but he always likes to be in charge, set the pace. Not tonight though.

Soarynn finally sticks out her tongue and swirls it around his very sensitive tip. He jerks in his seat, gripping the armrests for dear life. She looks up at him, a twinkle in her eyes while he tries to compose himself, restrain himself from grabbing a fistful of her hair, and fucking her throat until she cries.

She maintains eye contact as she takes him into her mouth and it's an ungodly sight that nearly makes him cum right then and there. Soarynn would never admit this, but she's very good at giving head. She can take him all the way down which is a very impressive feat where he's concerned. Coriolanus is well aware that he's well endowed, long in length with enough girth to stretch her out every single time.

She takes him like a champ, bobbing her head up and down, licking the underside of his shaft at the same time and his breathing is becoming labored. He can't remember the last time she gave him head, he's been...well, he's been busy! With work!

And Soarynn is here to remind him of what he's been missing out on.

Soarynn plays with his balls with her other hand and Coriolanus moans, unable to look away no matter how much it kills him to do so. She's just so sexy, so fucking irresistible with his cock buried in her throat. Soarynn takes him all the way down and holds it and he cries out, "Fuck Soarynn!"

He leans forward, pushing his cock further down his throat and Soarynn lets out a gagged groan. She probably didn't think this entirely through, and he doesn't need his hands to properly fuck his wife's throat but before he can do it again, she squeezes his balls hard.

Coriolanus lets out a pained scream and Soarynn pulls herself completely off of him, gasping for air while he does the same.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her lipstick is slightly smudged and she has a murderous look in her eyes. "Really? You couldn't control yourself one time Coriolanus?"

He sputters while trying to come up with a proper apology or explanation as to why it's impossible not to watch her gag on his cock but she's not hearing it. "Thought you could handle it," she mutters, standing back up. Coriolanus reaches out for her, still painfully hard by the way.

"Soarynn," he calls, "darling, come back, let me try again, I'm sorry. I'll be perfectly behaved."

Soarynn walks over to the bed and bends down, looking for something apparently. He watches her with a puzzled look on his face but it fades quickly when she stands back up with his belt in her hands.

"Absolutely not," he says, shaking his head when she starts walking back over to him. "Soarynn, there's no way in hell I'm gonna let you tie me up."

She feigns a saddened look and rolls her eyes, "Oh really? Because your cock is leaking and we both know you'd rather kill yourself than handle it alone."

His teeth click from how quickly he shuts his mouth.

Who the fuck is this dominatrix?

And what has she done with his wife?

She holds her hands as wide as her shoulders, making the belt go taut between her hands, "The choice is yours, darling. Finish by yourself, or play by my rules for once. You tie me up all the time and I never complain."

He does love to tie her up. It's so fun to see her whine and struggle, to see her take everything he gives her. To see her pretty eyes fill with tears when she gets too stimulated.

He's shooting himself in the foot because he's only getting harder now that he's thinking about it.

Soarynn notices too and smirks, "Choose," she tells him, "are you gonna play naughty, or nice?"

Coriolanus wishes there were a third option such as: 'beg for forgiveness' but her tone is anything but forgiving.

He swallows not only his spit but his pride too, "Nice," he mumbles.

Soarynn grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, darling, say it again, louder this time," she orders, a wicked look in her eyes. He knows exactly what she's doing because two weeks ago he said the exact same thing to her during sex.

He's going to have to watch what he says from now on because she's clearly been keeping score.

He glares up at her, "Nice," he spits out, "I'll be fucking nice."

Soarynn chuckles and lets go of his hair, "Mhm, you'll be my good boy?"

Well, fuck.

His throat bobs from the new petname. He's got a whole list of petnames for her when they're in the bedroom, ranging from "sweet girl" to "my little mindless fuckdoll" but he's never been called this before.

He kinda likes it.

"Yes," he says, much nicer this time.

"Hands," she says, the same way he says it whenever he ties her up. Coriolanus sighs but holds up his hands, wrists right next to each other. Soarynn tilts her head and studies him for a moment, "Actually, put them behind your back," she purrs.

He begrudgingly puts his hands behind his back and bends forward so that Soarynn can tie his hands with his belt. With his own fucking belt. Soarynn gives him a pat on the back once she's done, "There we go, that wasn't so hard was it?"

He hangs his head, "No."

She slides two fingers under his chin and tilts his face up, "What was that?"

Coriolanus wants to be an asshole, be defiant and give her a hard time but for his own safety and sanity, he remains well-behaved. "No," he says louder, "it wasn't that hard."

Soarynn giggles and leans down to press a kiss to his nose, "Exactly, now let's try again, hmm?"

It's embarrassing how eagerly he nods for her to sink back down to her knees but he does. Soarynn settles in front of his cock again and this time, he's prepared to be tortured. Soarynn takes his hardened length into her hand and strokes him up and down a few times before she sticks out her tongue and starts licking his shaft, slowly to tease him.

Coriolanus moans, throwing his head back while he fights to break his hands free but it's no use, she's tied him up very well. She's been taking notes apparently.

When she takes him into her mouth again, his toes are curling and his teeth are grinding. It feels so fucking good. Soarynn bobs her head up and down, still looking him in the eye but this time, he's truly at her mercy. Soarynn stops at the tip and swirls her tongue around like it's a goddamn lollipop and he almost loses his mind.

"Oh fuck," he gasps, sweat forming on his brow, "fuck I'm close."

Soarynn keeps a steady pace, using her other hand to pump his shaft while she focuses on torturing his overly sensitive tip. He can feel himself getting closer and closer and, "Oh fuck Soarynn," he moans, spilling into her throat.

It's strange not to be able to grab her hair or hold her head down. All he can do is sit there and squirm while he cums. He watches Soarynn close her eyes while his cum spurts down her throat, continuing to pump his shaft.

He gasps at how good it feels and leans back in the chair, riding out his prolonged orgasm. When he finally stops, he's out of breath.

"Fuck that was good," he says, closing his eyes.

He's ready for a shower, well, maybe one round of sex, and then a shower.

Soarynn starts bobbing her throat up and down again.

Coriolanus sits right back up, eyes wide with confusion as his wife keeps sucking him off as if he didn't just cum right down her throat. "Soarynn," he gasps, trying to buck her off of him, "what're you doing?" She only moans while continuing to suck him off, going at a much faster pace this time.

"Shit," he grits out, "Soarynn, I...I can't, fuck, Soarynn!"

She looks back up at him and he can see how much she's enjoying this, enjoying how he's completely helpless, depending on her for his next orgasm which he doesn't even think he can handle but that's beside the point.

Like fucking clockwork, another orgasm is approaching and Coriolanus might just die if he reaches it. But Soarynn is clearly trying to kill him. Coriolanus whimpers, digging his fingernails into his palms as he feels himself getting closer again.

Soarynn lets go of his shaft and brings her hand down to his balls and he blacks out.

Coriolanus doesn't know how long he stays unconscious, he only starts to feel his body again when he feels Soarynn's nails gently scratching his scalp. He groans and slowly opens his eyes, blinking from the bright lights. The first thing he sees is Soarynn, smiling at him which is a nice thing to see when you come back from the dead.

She's sitting in his lap and that's when Coriolanus realizes that she's untied his hands. The evil, mischievous little part of him wants to take her right here and now and show her who's really in charge.

But the gentle, and overstimulated part of him simply rests his hands on her waist and leans into her touch. Soarynn chuckles, "Good choice." He furrows his eyebrows and she kisses his cheek, "If you tried to fuck me right now, you wouldn't even be able to stand, let alone use your cock."

Coriolanus blushes, he's never seen her so confident, so sure of herself. It's like they've switched places for one night only. "That was...that was amazing," he finally says, his voice slightly scratchy, "what the fuck was that?"

Soarynn laughs, resting her head on his shoulder with a content hum, "Oh, I don't know," she sighs, kicking her feet as they dangle off the side of the chair, "I just thought you might enjoy something different, something where you don't have to make all the decisions all the time."

He runs his fingers through her long blonde hair, feeling how soft it is, "Part of me wanted to jump you," he admits, remembering how frustrated he had been. "I know," she says sweetly, trailing her other hand up and down his bare chest. "But the other part of me was so...so hypnotized by you," he says, still in awe, "you turned into a new person."

Soarynn laughs, lifting her head so she can look him in the eyes again, "You like control," she tells him pointedly, "always have, always will and I like giving it to you. But it's nice to switch things up every once in a while, don't you think?"

Coriolanus is nodding before he can even stop himself. It is nice.

"Yeah," he says, nosing her jaw, "it's really nice."

Soarynn shifts on his lap and he's once again painfully aware of how sensitive his cock is. He's not hard but he could be very quickly. "Do you wanna fuck me now?" She asks him, batting those eyelashes the way she always does. Coriolanus swallows and looks at her sexy outfit again, "Maybe," he mumbles.

Soarynn giggles and grabs his jaw in her hand, "Do you wanna fuck me from behind? And make me take it over and over again?" She nods his head for him and his cock is starting to twitch again but she's on a roll again, "You wanna fuck me until I'm crying, and fill my cunt up with your cum since I belong to you and only you?"

"Yes," he says before she can say anything else, crashing his lips onto her lips. Soarynn smiles into the kiss and rests her hand on his neck while his hands grip her waist tightly. They move in sync, knowing exactly what to do after being together for over nine years.

"Good," she whispers, slightly pulling away, "because I really didn't want to have to be on top."

Coriolanus laughs, kissing her again but softer this time, taking his time to appreciate his beautiful, sexy, smart wife who gave him a Christmas Eve to remember.

"Only good girls get to be on top," he mumbles against her lips, "and you've been very naughty."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @villiansarehottest @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @kickmybark @melodyoflovee |

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 15. ugly truths

YOUR CHILDHOOD DREAM WAS TO MARRY PARK SUNGHOON.

Even before you developed a genuine crush on him, you fantasized about marrying Sunghoon at a young age. Your parents always fawned over the young boy's appearance, and they would constantly pester you about how they wanted a handsome son-in-law like Sunghoon. You would brush their comments off back then, but a small stir in your chest dared to daydream about how wonderful of a boyfriend your best friend would be.

When he asked you out, you thought you were in the clouds. It must have been one of the best things that happened to you because you were certain that Sunghoon would meet some drop-dead gorgeous model after he was signed under Prada. You hardly entertained any talks of dating him before because you were so scared that something would burst the swell of hope in your chest.

Now that you tasted the reality of being Sunghoon's girlfriend, it was awfully bitter.

You knew that there were several consequences going into this decision; not only were your parents going to be upset, but you were possibly ruining years of friendship with both Sunghoon and Heeseung with this decision. Although you cared about the two boys deeply, you were so tired of feeling drained by your own relationship.

Plus, Heeseung had been acting weird, too. You weren't convinced as of late that he had purely platonic intentions, but it made your stomach turn every time you pondered on it for longer than a few seconds.

You knew what you were getting into. Sunghoon was so entangled and twisted up in your life that you couldn't see any comfortable way out of this relationship. You would no longer be able to listen to a Bruno Mars song without thinking about how he'd blast the music in his car and sing along with you; you would no longer be able to wake up in the morning and shake off the ceaseless anticipation of a good morning text from him; you would no longer be able to even reach for his hand under the table to give it a comforting squeeze.

After this, you wouldn't have to worry about checking menus to make sure your boyfriend liked the food at the restaurant you wanted to go to, or wait for him to show up to every date you planned, or sulk around after he shot down any couple activities you proposed.

You'd be free.

You wondered if this was going to be the last time you'd spend in Sunghoon's apartment. As your finger ran over the embroidery on one of his throw pillows, you noticed that your boyfriend was tapping his foot nervously.

He was the first to speak. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

His words were like a jab to your gut, making tears pool at the corners of your eyes before you turned to blink them away. You dated him for three years just for everything to end like this. Yet, you weren't sure he could say anything to salvage your relationship; you were tired of trying to reach out to someone who wouldn't even hold out his arm.

"Yeah," you answered quietly. "I don't think I can do this anymore, Hoon. It's been so hard."

His foot started tapping faster. You felt the knot in your chest tighten.

"Okay," he mumbled. "Then... that's that, I guess."

"Seriously? That's all you can say?"

"I can't stop you from doing what you want."

"No, but you could ask," you replied, incredulity thick in your voice. "You seriously don't even wanna know why I'm trying to end things?"

"I know why you're breaking up with me," he said, raising his voice over yours. "I haven't been putting aside time for y—"

"It's not just that!"

Sunghoon immediately fell silent, and, for a few moments, the only sounds in his living room were your shallow breaths. As much as you wanted to stand up and start yelling at him, you couldn't bring yourself to be too harsh when you noticed his repetitive tapping and fidgeting.

"The night you came over after Yuna went crazy on live," you started. "I want you to be transparent with me. Was all of that just so you could tell me to stop hanging out with her?"

His lips pressed into a thin line before he answered, "Not completely."

"But you still came over because of that?"

"Yeah."

Of course, that was the answer you expected.

Still, you didn't know the full weight of the truth would shatter you into pieces all over again.

Sort of lost and disconnected, you nodded. "Okay."

Sunghoon let his head hang. You weren't sure how many minutes had passed, but he just stared straight down at the floor while his knee bounced over and over again.

Your boyfriend, whom you had trusted and given all your love to, had just admitted to using your body for his own personal gain.

And all you could say was okay.

"Sungjin found out about Yuna's video," he tried. "I left early that morning because he wanted me to defend you and Heeseung to the Order, or he'd tell Dad. I thought I was doing the right thing."

You could only stare back at him wordlessly.

"I'm sorry," Sunghoon mumbled, and it sounded distorted in your ears, like he had been a broken record droning on and you had just now realized it, but he didn't dare make eye contact with you. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

He finally raised his head to look at you. The maddened, agonized look in his eyes made your heart twist painfully in your chest.

"Please say something," he begged.

"I just don't really know what to say."

His voice was more fragile, more broken when he said, "I don't wanna—I can't lose you."

"I think you already have."

Although there was little venom behind your words, it appeared to sting Sunghoon all the same.

"I'll tell you everything," he continued with sickening sincerity that made your ears hurt and your head spin.

Why now? Why couldn't he say all of this before? You weren't sure if it was meant to sway you in his favor, but it only made you feel more and more dreadful. You had been begging to listen to him this whole time, but he shut you out until he was about to lose you.

But this was what you came here to do—to talk to him. It wouldn't have been fair if you got your two cents out and left him in the dust. Either way, you wanted everything to come to light, anyway, so you were going to have to let him speak eventually.

"Okay," you agreed, "but I want everything you didn't tell me."

He swallowed thickly and began, "You know how my dad and brother are... all the back-and-forth over who gets Park Pharmaceuticals. Well, now that Sunjin's cleaned up his act, apparently Dad promised it to him, even though I've been preparing to inherit the company my whole life. Everything he's made me do has been for Park Pharmaceuticals, and he just took it all away from me like it's nothing.

"I mean, I've volunteered and done countless internships to prove that I have what it takes; I golf every weekend with company executives or people from the Order; I'm signed under Prada and Chopard; I attend those stupid socials every other day on top of keeping up with coursework for two majors; I know Park Pharmaceuticals like it's on the back of my hand because I've studied the organization inside-and-out and spent months shadowing at the company; I've been slogging day and night to become the man my brother failed to be—the man my father wants me to be—and I still lost to Sungjin. Nothing I do is enough, Y/N—nothing.

"My family keeps expecting me to become someone important, but they're also the ones holding me back. You're the only one who makes me feel like there's a meaning to all of this."

You sucked in a sharp breath, letting his words sink in deep until your bones felt cold and hollow. "You can't say I'm all you have after you pushed me away countless times, Sunghoon," you started. "I really wish you told me all this when I'd beg you to let me help."

"I know," he said in a soft voice, head dipped low again. "I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting you from my dad."

"Your dad? Why would I need protection from your dad?"

Sunghoon hesitated before he spoke, "He... didn't interfere with our relationship because he was banking on us getting married."

"So?" Noticing the guilty look drawn across his features, you prepared yourself for an incoming blow. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

A mumble. Eyes that refused to meet yours. It was clear as day that he was hiding something.

"What is it?" you repeated sharply.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"If it concerns me, then I'd like to hear it."

His chest swelled from the deep breath he took. "He wanted us to get married... so that Park Pharmaceuticals could acquire your father's hospital chain."

You let it echo in your head once more, and the words swam.

If you thought this conversation was nauseating before, now it was so gut-churning that you could hardly tell if the Earth was spinning at its regular speed. You felt like you had been tugged from right behind your navel and dunked into icy water.

Someone like you, with your family's background, should have expected an outcome like this.

But you never thought Park Sunghoon would be the one to drive the knife into your back.

There was a loud ringing in your head, and you weren't exactly certain if the world was supposed to be swaying around you, but you screwed your eyes shut and asked, "Why Mercy Health? Why would a pharmaceutical company want to acquire a hospital?"

"It's 'cause medical manufacturers pay hospitals a lot of money," he explained, although he was mumbling again and it was getting on your nerves. "I guess Dad's plan is that a joint operation would make more money for both of us."

"A merger between two pharmaceutical corporations would make more sense."

"Dad's always wanted to be a revolutionary. Sales have been flatlining for pharmaceutical giants these days, so that's why he planned for something bigger. Theoretically, it's a smart plan, it's just..."

You scoffed. "You're defending him."

"I'm not—"

"You're sitting there and justifying your dad's actions as if this whole plan doesn't depend on you manipulating me!" You stood up and wedged your Dior clutch under your arm. "You didn't even think to tell me any of this before we started dating, and"—your eyes started watering and your voice was thick with emotion—"you were gonna marry me just for my family's hospital?"

"I never agreed with what my dad was doing, Y/N," he said firmly. "I never wanted you to get involved with him, so I kept it hidden from you, but my feelings for you had nothing to do with the acquisition. I'd never take Mercy Health from you."

"You should've told me before you asked me out!"

"I... thought I was doing the right thing," he replied wearily. "I didn't think it would come to this. I'm sorry."

Anger was rising in your chest. At this point, you didn't even care what you were spitting out at him because you were so infuriated.

"This is exactly your problem," you said, cold as ice, "you think you have a handle on everything, but if you were anyone but Park Sunghoon, everyone would be sick of you by now. You constantly put your company over everyone who actually cares about you. I get that you've worked your whole life for this, but there are people out there who've worked harder than you ever have, and they'll never get the opportunities that you get handed to you."

Judging by the way Sunghoon stiffened and his jaw clenched, you were sure your words had gotten to him—struck him right in his heart.

"I never once said I wasn't privileged," he muttered darkly, standing up to tower over you, "and I wouldn't mention privilege either, if I were you. We're birds of the same feather in that sense."

"I can talk about privilege all I want. You're sitting here complaining about being entitled to inherit an entire company while there are people who can only dream of that opportunity. Heeseung—"

"Don't lash out at me just because you're not motivated enough to inherit Mercy Health," he fired back. "I'm privileged, yes, but I did everything that's been expected of me since I was born. This is what I've been brought up my whole life for. Just because you're terrified of what's expected of you doesn't mean I don't deserve what I've worked for."

Motivated enough. You felt your whole body on edge at his words. How could he bring up your insecurities and anxieties over your future just to argue his point? You remembered the countless nights of you laying in Sunghoon's arms and telling him you were worried that owning Mercy Health wasn't what you wanted for your life. Worried that you could've been doing something you actually loved if you weren't pushed into a career path because of your status.

"This is the real world, Y/N," Sunghoon continued. "Maybe it's not fair that we were set for the rest of our lives as soon as we were born, but this is who we are, and you need to accept that. Face it: I'm probably the only person you're gonna fall in love with that won't have an inferiority complex around you. You're not innocent either, so don't look down on me for my father's actions as if you don't form transactional friendships yourself."

"What? I don't—"

"I remember your notebook very well," he cut you off.

Your blood ran cold.

He continued, "You can talk about our power and privilege, but don't you dare use Heeseung against me when you were the one writing about how 'expendable' he was."

You stiffened. "That—that was a really long time ago. I didn't even believe what I was writing."

"Yeah? Is it 'cause he's rich now? Now he has some worth that makes him good enough for your little circle?"

"You know that I don't think that way anymore!"

"Is that so?" But it didn't sound like a question; Sunghoon wore an impassive look on his face as his eyes bored into yours. "So you're telling me you don't constantly update that little notebook about whose family did what and who you need to get closer to?"

Years ago, back when you were a child, your father handed you a notebook with several pages of information on the children of his business partners and other wealthy families. You were instructed to either get close to certain people or stay away from others. He would draw diagrams for you, essentially ranking who was of importance and who wasn't. Naturally, as you kept having to use and update it, you created your own notes and decided for yourself who you would keep in your circle.

It was maybe a few years ago when the sight of that notebook made you feel sick. You had been categorizing everyone in your life unknowingly without realizing how messed up it was.

Sunghoon naturally was ranked high, but you were already close with him, so your father wasn't too strict about who else you got close to. That was why Heeseung was able to wriggle his way into your friend group, and although you truly valued him, you never said anything when your father had you put him down as expendable in your notebook.

And, although you deeply regretted it, the mindset of collecting information on the people around you had already been engrained into your mentality. Keeping tabs on everyone around you came far too naturally to you.

You supposed that was why you had so many barriers up in your friendships. You always held your friend group at arm's length because of the reputations you all had to uphold. Sunghoon and Heeseung were the only ones you could be yourself around, but that was before your love lives got so complicated.

But the matter at hand was breaking up with Sunghoon. After everything, you were just too exhausted and drained for more fighting.

"Heeseung may have forgiven you for that notebook," Sunghoon pressed on, "but I won't forget how anxious you made me feel back then." All I could think about was if you "

"I know it was fucked up and I'm sorry," you said, "but I seriously don't think of Heeseung—or anyone—like that. He's always been one of my best friends."

Sunghoon's anger seemed to subside, settling back under the sand. He sat back down on the couch with thinly-veiled sadness weighing him down, and he placed his elbows on his knees.

"I'm gonna leave now," you said, "unless you have anything else you wanna say."

"Don't leave yet." He was looking at the floor again. "I'll call you an Uber."

"It's a five minute walk."

"It's late; I don't care."

You sighed and went along with his request, watching as he booked the ride on his app in silence. After momentary confusion dawned on his face, Sunghoon stood up again and walked back over to pull you into a tight embrace.

After everything that he said, you were so certain that you didn't even want to look him in the eye. After feeling his arms around you, though, for what could be the last time as a couple, you ended up wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his chest. A couple tears fell from your eyes and lingered on the fabric of his sweater.

"I'm sorry I wasn't a better boyfriend," he murmured into your hair. "I don't think our parents are gonna take this well."

You sniffled. "They won't. I don't think I'm gonna tell them yet."

"Do you think we can still be friends?"

You chewed on the idea for a moment. It was the rising hope in Sunghoon's voice that made you feel almost sorry for him.

"Not right now," you ended up saying. "We'll have to once we're in the Order, but I need some time for myself now."

"Okay."

More tears slipped down your cheeks. It was strange but you already missed him, even though you were still holding onto him. Maybe it was because once your ride was here, you knew that would be the last time you would be holding onto Park Sunghoon like this.

Neither of you said anything and just held each other tightly, hands nearly trembling in fear of letting go for the last time. When Sunghoon's phone buzzed, the both of you reluctantly separated and peered at his screen.

The Uber (which he paid a ridiculous amount for) was parked outside.

"So this is it," he said.

"This is it."

Without even thinking, you two gravitated toward each other with ease. Sunghoon held your face as if it were glass while you drew him in for a kiss with your arms wrapped around his neck. You pulled away before either of you could get carried away and gave him a sad smile.

"I'll see you later, Hoon," you said.

With longing etched deep in his eyes, Sunghoon murmured, "See you."

You felt numb during your short ride home, hardly keeping conversation with the driver. Everything that happened only sank in hours later, so you drew a hot bath and cried until you couldn't cry anymore.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

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[yuri-is-online]

And Your Name Is? (Deuce, Azul, and Floyd)

After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, we are back in business bby, these three are by request, next up are Lilia, Jamil, and Grim! Angst with the intent of comfort, if you like this please consider checking out my masterlist for the previous three parts.

Deuce

"Don't go where I can't follow."

Deuce has said that many times before.  He wonders if you thought he didn't mean it or had taken it as a joke, and truly he cannot decide which is worse. He had foolishly thought when he first woke up and saw the school year begin anew that he could relax knowing he wouldn't need to chase you across an ocean into the depths of S.T.Y.X. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy, his memories of you might have been scattered across time and space but he knew with certainty this set back did not surprise him.

"Are you alright?" Trey's concern does not go unappreciated, but Deuce can't really bring himself to respond out loud. "You seem a bit distracted." There are countless wishing stars hung above him in the trees, he wishes he remembered if any of the wishes he heard had been the same. He knows his no longer is.

"Let him be." Idia surprisingly in the flesh, but still draped like a wet cat over the drums. "We can afford to take a break anyway." His seniors move away as Deuce remains staring up at the wishing stars. Yuu is sort of the same color as them now, and just as ephemeral.

"Do you remember this?" The starsender robes don't feel as special anymore, he wants to be proud that he was really meant for this task seeing how time itself has seen fit to make him repeat it. "I only remembered to ask you what your wish was after... I think you passed it off as me being dumb but I don't think that's what happened now. Somehow I knew if I asked you to make a wish what you would say." A gentle breeze sways the little lights above his head as Deuce tries to spot the star Trey had helped him make. "I meant what I said, I want you to see just how cool I'll look in my officer's uniform. I want to make my mom and grandma proud, and I want you to come home and be proud of me with them." Sometimes he swears he can feel your head leaning on his shoulder, your arms embracing him from behind, your voice carried by the breeze drowning out shouts for him to come back to reality and pay attention to his surroundings. There's a legend in Twisted Wonderland about a man that dives into the Underworld to rescue his beloved, you had told him your world has the same story but it has a different ending. Deuce doesn't want to think about that as his hands curl around where yours should be, just over his rapidly beating heart. "I wish," he already has but he swears the star twinkles with magic in response all the same "for Yuu to come home." He squeezes your hand and jumps when he finds purchase, your weight forcing him to stumble forward and crash as he rapidly tries to turn and see your face.

Idia and Trey make noises of surprise, he thinks that they're talking but he can't seem to hear them above the sound of your heavy breaths. "I'm back Deucey." You whisper softly into the evening air.

"Welcome back Yuu." He hopes you never make him let you go again.

Azul

There is a mournful song flowing through this strange cold place you have found yourself. It's familiar, but you swear you have never heard it before, perhaps it is the voice you find yourself stumbling towards and not the music itself.

"There you are." It's pleased with itself this voice. "Come to spend some time with me again?" You don't know, you can't even really tell where you are. It looks like an office, but it is bereft of papers or any light. You feel more than see the desk at the center, the smooth grain of the wood chills your fingertips as you run along looking for something. A sigh rattles the room as you are dragged away, back to the mirror chamber by frighteningly cold darkness and you grope wildly around for the person you thought had been there with you. "Goodnight Yuu. I will see you tomorrow."

"Why can't you see me today?" You swear you speak but you hear no noise. And in the solid space you've left behind Azul leans back against his chair and studies the ceiling above him. He should be pleased. He had a theory and the tattered scraps of paper in his hand would seem to have proved it. Azul should be angry that your state demands such a sacrifice of him, he should be weighing the potential cost of this decision. Of saving you.

But instead he laughs.

"Yuu. Yuu, Yuu, Yuu. I wonder if I ever stood a chance." He knows the answer of course, but he wonders if it is as ingrained in your soul as it is his. ~~~~ "Do you believe in other worlds Yuu?" The voice is asking you a silly question, and you chase after it determined to tease. "And I don't mean like yours, I mean completely other realities where things even mages would find unbelievable exist." You manage to push yourself through the waters and begin to wander the purple and grey hued halls, desperately searching for someone you swear is here, his name on the tip of your tongue. "I admit it's not something I ever thought too much about, but after we got together the first time I would lie awake thinking about it. You and I meeting was never a guarantee, so why did it feel so much like fate? I think I asked you once."

"Don't underestimate me." You can hear yourself now, and the walls around you are coming into more solid focus. There is only one door between you and the person you have been searching for now. "I will find you in every lifetime." Delighted laughter moves towards you now, as the door opens to reveal the outline of a man, shimmering just like you.

"Yes that's exactly what you said." His hand is cold, you reach to catch it worried it will fall through you and almost sob as you both find the familiar sensation of the other's touch. "And I think I said, 'Well that's not threatening at all!' Because in my mind there was no other way for us to meet than as adversaries, but that didn't need to be true did it?" Azul's coat and scarf is slung over the back of his chair, your breath catches in your throat at the unusual sight of Azul in just his tuxedo. He preens under your attention, guiding you carefully towards the couch, hands trembling in equal relief, excitement, and still small fear that this was all a painful dream. The shredded remnants of carefully counted contracts can remain scattered across the desk behind you, yet he finds himself surprisingly unconcerned. He curls himself around you, sighing in content at the return of the warmth of your solid form. "I found you this time." You return his embrace with a half sob, the memory of the here and there cementing itself within your fears alongside the sheer relief of Azul's presence. "If other worlds do exist, if time gets re-set again, even if you are forced to return to where you came from, please don't underestimate me either. We found each other once, and we will in every timeline we exist." He kisses your hand and dares reality to prove him wrong.

Floyd

"Man every day's a party when I'm with you. I can't get enough!" He had really meant it, but he could see the doubts still flickering behind that smile.

"Glad you had fun Floyd."

Had. You were glad he "had" fun not "was having." It was an odd thing to get caught up on, Floyd didn't fully understand why it soured his mood so much himself. There was always this carefully crafted barrier between the two of you, carefully built up by you that he never noticed until it was too late. Until little shrimpy was just Yuu and the nickname became a facade to deny the depth of his emotions.

It was silly to think that he was the only one lying to himself.

"Y'know you can't stay all ghostie like that forever." He tries to poke you, disappointed in how you shimmery form neither disappears nor wavers. "It's not good for your health." Floyd has never had the smoothest of emotions, they tumble around his chest like waves, but he knows them to be consistent. He hates standing in place and doing the same thing over and over, he loves it when people make stupid mistakes and he gets to watch them blow up (sometimes literally) in their face, and he hates how predictable he has been. The jumbled memory of countless looping timelines and never once did he do anything more than maybe chase you around a little and come up with excuses to monopolize your attention. Floyd wants to squeeze himself, that's what this entire situation already feels like anyway. "Say do you know what humans used to say about merfolk?" His mood twitches back to something like happiness as he rolls his head up from lying on the library table up onto his hands. "They thought that when we died we turned into sea foam cause we didn't have souls. Isn't that silly! Say Yuu, which one of us looks like foam now huh?" Floyd hasn't cried since he was a fry, but these past few days he feels like he has done little but cry and sleep. In his dreams he gets to re-write his impossible memories to be a little lighter, he gets to drop the nickname and call out to you and have you cry out to him in return. In his dreams everyday is still a party and not a waking nightmare. Your hand, or maybe he is delusional and has begun to dream yet again, reaches towards him, fighting its foamy nature to try and touch his head.

"I like you." He had said it into your neck while you died that time, still lying to save himself some face in case that was the last thing you wanted to hear. "C'mon dance with me Yuu!" He had tried hyping himself up in his head, all words dying in his throat when he finally spun you away from Crabby and Mackerel calling you shrimpy once again.

"I love you." Why is he only brave enough to say it now when he swears it won't actually matter? "I think I've loved you since the first time ya tricked Azul and then immediately every time I saw you after. So come back yeah? I thought I had all the time in the world but I don't, and I ain't ever gonna be board of having you around..." The foam flickers, and for a brief delusional moment Floyd thinks he sees your proper face. "You know that, right?"

"I love you too." It's watery, he feels the answer somewhere in his soul rather than hears it as you crash under your own weight back into reality and onto the hard wood of the NRC library. His laughter cackles up and out across the whole school as he leaps across and over to catch you up and soothe your bruises with soft kisses, not at all the activity Jade expects to find him engaged in when he follows rather than flees at the noise.

"Mine." He kisses your pulse point and you wonder, not for the first time but with much more joy than sorrow, why it was his hand you were searching for. "My Yuu." Floyd purrs, a dangerous tittering laugh of genuine relief convincing you of his genuineness more than anything else.

If he was going to get bored of you, he would have done it timelines ago.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember me? (Part 16)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: eh. i dont know.

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Meeting was a fancy word for revel, really.

All the High lords were drinking and laughing among themselves in groups of twos and threes after they had returned a few moments ago.

They had gone off to a small room nearby along with their inner circles and guards to discuss whatever it was that high lords discussed. Eris had not wanted to leave Y/n's side, a muscle feathering in his jaw when he had left without her, his fists clenched.

But he had not left without glaring at every male in the ball room.

Y/n hid her smile behind her glass, taking a small sip of the fruity wine as she thought back to the way everyone had shrunk into themselves at his gaze.

Without even realising, Y/n's eyes began searching for that familiar head of fiery hair, and she found him standing next to the high lord of the summer court, nodding along as he spoke.

But he was already staring straight at her.

The heat from the bodies that pressed up against each other and danced around the floor would never compare to the heat that spread through Y/n when her eyes met his.

She shot back the rest of the wine, only to realise there was nothing left. Sighing, she stared into the depths of her cup, and the last dregs of the wine stared back.

When she lifted her head, Eris was no longer next to Tarquin, who was now smiling at something his cousin said.

Y/n's brow furrowed, and, huffing, she turned to make her way to the refreshments table to get herself more wine. Because, after she found Eris staring at her, she knew she was nowhere near drunk enough to get through another evening of longing glances and tenson filled words.

But she was met with a wall of muscled chest right in front of her face. So close she had to stumble back to take a breath.

"What the hell?"

Eris mouth was a cruel slash of a smirk as he surveyed her, the light from the majestic chandeliers made of faelights and candles reflecting in his eyes.

"What?"

"Why are you here?" Not exactly what Y/n had wanted to say, but she hardly said anything she wanted to these days. So this was not a surprise. It was as if her brain stopped working whenever he was near.

Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he sighed dramatically. Turning his head, he let his gaze sweep the huge chamber, resting for a moment on the orchestra that played a fast paced song. "And here I thought you missed me."

Y/n scowled, though she doubted he could see it. "What are you here for Eris? Is there something you wanted to say? Or are you here just to be dramatic?"

His smirk only widened as he glanced at her, and she huffed. "Do you know how to dance?"

Y/n blinked, deflating a little as she pondered the almost nonchalant question. "Yes." She mumbled quietly, studying his posture, wondering what his intentions were. "I had to learn and become good at it."

He nodded. "I don't."

He seemed to be lost in thought as he said, as if he had not intended for he words to slip but he had spoken them aloud instead of just thinking them.

"You don't?"

Eris glanced at her, shrugging. Y/n's gaze caught on his goblet as he did so, and she wondered if it would be okay to snatch it and down it herself.

"I wanted to learn, but I did not have time to. Will you... teach me?"

Y/n blinked, her neck warming. "Me?"

He nodded matter-of-factly. "You get to dance so you don't get bored, and I learn to dance. It's nothing more than a transaction."

She felt an unexplainable twinge of hurt in her chest at that, and she pushed it aside. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hand along her skirts for the millionth time that evening as she nodded. "Alright."

Eris straightened, his eyes widening just a fraction. There was a glint in his eyes she could not identify, but before she could decipher it, he spoke. "Really?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his goblet. And then, without thinking or considering the fact that it could be a stronger beverage, tossed it back and swallowed.

She regretted it immediately.

Sputtering at the weird taste of the drink that was definitely not the fruity wine she had been drinking, she stared at the goblet in her hand in disgust. "What the hell was that?"

"That was whiskey." Y/n's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at him when she found him grinning. "This is why you don't steal someone else's drink."

She scowled, shoving the glass into his chest and turning away, trying to swallow the weird taste. It was no help.

She took a few steps away, wondering why she was getting so pissed over nothing. When she realised she was pushing through the crowd and he wasn't even following her, she turned to glare at him over her shoulder.

That was enough to scare him as he hurried to keep pace with her.

Standing on the edge of the dance floor, Y/n released a breath, trying to let loose the side that had adored dancing.

It had been the only time where she could not worry about being offensive without meaning to, could stop worrying about which court cockroach her father would marry her off to.

The previous song came to an end too soon for Y/n's comfort, and she took a deep breath before turning to look at Eris. He stared back at her. And then, his lips curling at the edges as he offered her his hand. She placed her hand in his, and instantly her heartbeat seemed to calm down.

In the back of her mind, she noted that he had discarded of his goblet somewhere.

He led her onto the dance floor with the grace and efficiency of a dancer who had danced for centuries, totally at odds with his statement of not knowing to dance.

As if feeling her skepticism, he slowed his pace down, glancing at her uncertainly. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his eyes sparkled.

He stopped and turned fully to face her, his brows lifting a little.

"What if you step on my toes?"

He tried to pout. Special emphasis on tried. "I won't."

Y/n sighed, then guided one of his hands to her waist. It tightened instantly.

She glanced at him for a moment, and found a subtle blush on his cheeks, though it could just have been the lightning playing tricks on her.

"So... Now what?"

Eris questioned once the fae around the two of them had begun dancing to the new tune. It also did not go unnoticed by Y/n that they maintained a little distance from Eris and her.

"Now we dance. Just follow me, I guess."

•○🌑○•

She let her body relax as the music picked up again after the applause from the audience died down. She could see the nervousness mixing with something in Eris's eyes.

The music that flowed through the ballroom was a soft but fast paced one. Not as fast as the previous one, but not slow enough to be a couple's waltz. Her heart seemed to be beating in turn with the beats of the song.

She dug her fingers into his shoulder as they made a particularly complicated turn, the fine embroidery on his expensive crimson coloured jacket that clung to his frame crinkling. The jacket was tight and loose in just the right places, putting his body on show for everyone watching. It almost made her want to act on the irrational and unexplainable urge pull their eyeballs out.

And, even though Y/n knew she would never do something like that to anyone, the thought brought her a little satisfaction.

She blinked a couple of times to try and focus again on Eris and his dancing.

Eris picked up fast. He was a good dancer. A little too good, considering he claimed to never have danced before.

Y/n's suspicions only grew with every moment that passed.

He was a little unsure at first, and his nervousness had almost seemed… forced. But she did not pay much attention to that as she focused on guiding him and making sure to stay away from the other couples.

It amazed her how someone like him, someone who was said to be one of the cruellest males in history, had wanted to learn something so elegant as dancing.

It made her wonder, what else had he wanted to do, what else did he have passion for that he as forced to stop in favour of becoming the powerful and cruel male everyone made him out to be.

Made her wonder if he had a different upbringing, would he have turned out different?

Y/n skin seemed to have taken on a perpetual warmth, and her body refused to cool down, especially when Eris slowly seemed to pull her closer, his hand having wrapped tighter around her waist.

She felt a bead of sweat rolling down her spine as they continued twirling around the floor, Eris now having taken over the dancing as he guided her through a series of practiced motions. Y/n realised that he had lied about his knowledge- or lack thereof- in dancing.

It was in no way the season where the weather was hot. But Autumn court people had fire in their veins- at least most of them did- and that, combined with them most of them lusting after a person in the room, made the heat rise.

Eris's hand on her waist also did not help. His proximity, his breath on her face and neck, sometimes even brushing against her exposed shoulders and collarbones when he dropped the two of them a little. His eyes were blazing with something Y/n dared not name.

All of it made her want to scream.

They had been dancing for two songs now, and as the song began to come to its end, the attention of almost everyone turned to Eris and her.

Y/n wondered if he would leave before they could dance to the third song, as three dances in a row was basically a marriage proposal.

A small part of Y/n hoped he would continue dancing with her.

The last few notes of the song lingered in the air, ad loud applause sounded from the audience. Y/n knew without a doubt that everyone present was now watching Eris, curious as to what he would do next.

Y/n was right there with them.

Eris had not looked away for one moment. Not one. And now, as the sounds of the claps from the crowd died down, he continued to stare.

Even when the next song began, he did not remove his hands from her form.

"Eris" Y/n whispered, glancing around. "people are staring."

"I know."

She blinked up at him. "This will be our third dance."

"And?"

"We- we can't dance-"

"Do you want to stop?" He cut in, giving her a pause.

"Three dances in a row is akin to a marriage proposal. You know this Eris."

"And? Do you want me to stop?"

Y/n pondered the question for a moment. And she knew that he could read her answer in her eyes before she even spoke by the satisfied and excited smirk on his face.

"No, I don't want to stop."

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @tele86

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne @mybestfriendmademe @going-through-shit @thisblogisaboutabook @thehighlordishere @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival

[athousandbyeol]

keep up the thamepo [episode 4]

good Lord, so many things are unfolding in this episode! it was quite an overwhelming watch for me, to be honest. i didn't expect the story to change its pacing for the first three parts of the episode. it was a pleasant, surprise! and I believe it was intentional because it had to do with dylan's 'fire'. it's so well done!

therefore, aside from addressing the symbolism of dylan's fire as the rage that affected the pacing of the early parts, I also want to delve into the relationship between thame and dylan and the physical distance (but growing emotional connection) between thame and po. additionally, I want to address the potential parallels between ep 4 jun/po and the possible ep of jun/po because something's going to happen and it won't be as pretty. also, other thoughts will come to mind as I'm writing this post xD

1. dylan as the fire; thame as his water — easily sparked, easily distinguished

dylan is such an interesting character to me because his rage is rooted in his feeling of betrayal for thame. i didn't see much dylan and thame in the official trailer, thus I was unsure how their story would unfold. but it's so crazy to me how thamepo is showing us these perspectives—like I mentioned in (all of) my posts—from every character, not just one. they serve as reliable narrators, providing insights into their emotional turmoil and the intentions behind their decisions.

it's a dylan-centred episode and i was honestly overwhelmed with how fast the first three parts of the story went. not putting it negatively, but i was used to the slow and languid pacing of the last three episodes, so this one felt like a hardcore punch in the face.

i wondered why it was constructed this way—because it wasn't rushed at all—it was just happening too quickly—like a spark of fire.

oh.

dylan is the fire.

that's why this episode felt like I was on fire while watching it. it burned and hurt and dissolved so quickly and I was shell-shocked at how well they incorporated this motif into the story, blending it with remnants of dylan's anger toward thame and the resolution of their conflict. it's so beautifully done. (I don't know, probably it's the lit side of me that regards this as something so groundbreaking because I don't really see that much infusion of symbolism/motifs in a story this seamlessly. I'm so proud. i adore p'mui and her team even more now T_T they know what they're doing really.)

however, i do feel like dylan's story could be explored just a little bit more. to me, jun's storyline was perfectly told, seasoned with the right amount of ingredients that made us resent, understand and root for him. yet, dylan's story feels more like on the surface level to me, even though his story has so many interesting points to talk about—social commentaries on idols vs artists, the industry's demands for in-trend music instead of authenticity, and the company's ability to stun an artist's growth.

i was hoping they would show snippets of dylan rapping to his songs or joining these underground rapping competitions and comparing his experiences doing these as a solo rapper and an idol rapper. i think these scenes could contribute to a better understanding of the origin of dylan's passion for rapping and producing, as well as unveiling the 'undiscovered' sides of idols/idol rappers in the underground scene—also the spark of betrayal that began because of his crushed dreams and witnessing his best friend 'ruining' everything they built together.

it's just me... but i really wanted dylan's story to be stretched just a bit more because it's not strongly tied to thame the way jun's story did. but I still respect p'mui's decision to tell dylan's story in this manner.

i love thame's persistence in wanting to bring dylan back first before nano because dylan is indeed very important to the group.

i think these two are the producers in the group (along with pepper), but they shared a deeper bond because dylan was difficult to approach, but thame befriended him anyway. (why are they reminding me of namjoon and yoongi T_T)

i love this found-family trope in thamepo, and every time they showed us how thame found the members—found the real them—my heart swelled.

and thame saw dylan's potential. he saw how enthusiastic dylan was in writing and producing. he saw dylan as an artist—an art—that should be appreciated. and it's so beautiful. :(

as mentioned before, the members loved thame as much as thame loved them. it's so obvious. the reason behind the drift between them was miscommunication, wrong/rushed decisions and the company's intervention and ability to twist the narrative to their liking. perhaps, all of these could be solved if thame and the members talked it down, but it's easier said than done. so I understand why the strain in the group happened/appeared. it's not easy to let down our egos, but I'm thankful that (with the help of po) thame could finally breach the line between him and the members, hence reviving the group before they crumbled.

moreover, i love how thame effortlessly switches his elements to suit the members' elements. jun was like the wind to me, and thame became the earth that kept him from flying away. dylan was fire, and thame became the water that distinguished his fire with sincerity and another promise that wouldn't be broken. (i have a feeling nano is the water, and thame might be the fire that boils his love and passion to be in the group again, to work together and reach for their dreams—as promised.)

2. physical distance, emotional connection- it makes thamepo's heart grow fonder

ok... so... the thing that's going on between thame and po is CRAZY.

again, i'm so surprised that the scene happened so early into the episode. i thought it would be around the middle (because from my observation, the intimacy of thame and po's exchange would only escalate towards the middle or end of an episode). but they were hitting us as hard as this in the first part and I was honestly struggling to breathe.

i LOVE these shots. it's so intimately captured. po was looking at thame from the spaces, and thame's focus was instantly on po once he saw him in the storage room.

there was a respectable distance between them (probably because of jun's presence in the room). i think it sets a foreground for us in future episodes, especially after they're already in a relationship: in the eyes of the public, there should be this distance—this five-metre distance—so that they could be accepted—so that they could exist without hurting each other.

and when p'mick came, they were 'forced' to hide and huddle so close to each other. this was when everything was unveiled, the rapid beating of their hearts, the golden light raining against their bodies, the yearning stares, the confusion, the hesitance, the answer, the need.

i personally love the idea that thame and po were in the moment, but the world was still revolving around them. p'mick and jun were still talking in the background, but thame and po were spiralling in this juncture of intimacy, of connection, of understanding their feelings and making no sense of everything they were experiencing—the oh moment.

because i think scenes like these are often a form of hyperbole: time stops when I look at him/her. the construction of similar scenes would often go the route of slow-mo or focus shots to emphasise the weight/message of the scene. to me, it's always overly done (and I find it a bit cliche... I'm sorry for saying this T_T). but this scene doesn't feel cringy to me. it's really subtle and sweet and purposeful.

but their moment ended too quickly.

again, the fire symbolism not only reflected thame/dylan's dynamic in this episode but also thame/po. (and I find this so CRAZILY WELL DONE!!!)

however, something about fire with po... i don't think they go well together because...

i think, po was all elements for earn's fire. earn wanted to build a career. he wanted to be successful. he was a blazing fire. and po changed himself according to everything earn needed, complimenting earn when he was indeed of something.

but this fire left him. this fire betrayed him. this fire destroyed him.

thame is all elements for MARS, too.

but when it's po and thame, who are they and what they'll become?

throughout the episode, we didn't get much of thamepo, not until the conflict between thame and dylan was resolved.

in my opinion, po is really the best partner for thame (and honestly, everyone) because of his diligence, patience, kindness and warmth. he's willing to search for the lyrics, going through boxes, and piecing the shredded lyrics together just to give it to thame—just to help him reach his goals.

he did all that to earn, too.

the shot above broke my heart because po felt the physical distance between them. he was already thinking about the conversation he shared with jun. he was already doubting himself. he was already self-destructing.

when he saw thame and dylan on stage, smiling, he was happy. he was glad and relieved that thame was okay and he achieved his goal of reuniting with his teammates. however, at this point, po might have thought that, oh, I was used again.

but we know it was never thame's intention to make po feel so helpless and worthless. thame knew what po's ex did to him. the emotional trauma/distress po's experienced couldn't easily be discarded. we can see some moments where po just stared into space. his anxiousness of always checking on his messages. po overthinks everything, already making scenarios in his head of the worst-case what-ifs.

earn took so much of po that po was still trying to find himself again—still wishing that the world would treat him better.

without po realising it, he was already emotionally depending on thame. because thame saw him. thame appreciated him. thame made him feel like he was po again, not earn's shadow, not a nobody.

but thame didn't reply to his message. thame didn't come to him afterwards. so po thought it was just in his head. it was impossible for thame to see him. everything thame said to po was—perhaps—only because of the spark of the moment.

but i'm thankful that thame called po before he could destroy the last ray of hope in him.

the conversations they shared were so heartfelt. even though they didn't meet the whole day, thame knew everything po was experiencing. he knew po was overthinking. and that, to me, is a sign of devotion. and it made me realise that thame and po were emotionally closer, emotionally connected, closer than their bodies could ever be.

thame apologised. he helped po regain his self-worth. he assured po that he would always be here. he would always feel for po. he would always care for po.

and po learned a lot about thame—he was closer to his dogs than his parents. he loves reading. he loves writing his thoughts down. everything so small and insignificant to others, but meant the whole universe for po.

and they became each other's safe zones.

i'm so sorry, but i relate to po in so many ways. i see myself in him the most (throughout all of my years of watching dramas). so I might be biased and root for him the most... and when he feels the most pain, I feel it too :( and when he's so happy talking to thame, I was over the moon. //i'm happy for thame, too. finally, he could give his neverending love to someone who needs that genuine devotion. thank you, thame :((//

and they were on call for nine hours??? and thame waited for po to wake up so that he could serenade his soon-to-be lover with his favourite song??? romance is restored! the slow burn is slow burning!

//this scene is too sweet that ants are starting to swarm the screen...//

3. potential parallels (aka upcoming heartbreaks) and nano/pepper's story arc

ok, so this is something that i couldn't stop thinking about after I watched the episode.

jun saw po. he saw right through po the way he saw straight through thame.

he knew po liked thame. i think he had an inkling that thame liked po too.

however, everything he said to po here was hurtful.

it reminded me of his story arc in ep 3. he was bad-mouthing thame, but it was for thame's benefit—it was his way of showing he cared.

i would like to indulge in the idea that jun cared about po too because he was the only one who knew thame's true intention behind everything he did, and who was helping (or enabling) it in the first place. he knew po was special to thame. but...

the nature of being an idol, i think jun knew it too well. he didn't want either thame or po to suffer in the future. because it'll be difficult to navigate their feelings, to hide their relationship, to behave like they don't mean anything when they're in public. i guess, jun was giving po a head's up, telling po that he wasn't thame's type, crushing po's fantasy of having something different with thame—not in a condescending manner—but rather i don't want you to fall too deeply. there's still a chance for you to move on from this.

but of course, they end up falling.

and this is the price they shall pay.

nano's storyline will be interesting because he's the youngest in the group—the maknae. usually, from my observation, the maknaes love their big brothers/sisters the most. they want nothing but the best for them. and they're willing to sacrifice themselves for them. they felt the most pain when their brothers/sisters experienced anything difficult, and vice versa. (I'm sorry if it's wrong... but this is what I gathered as a k-pop fan for more than ten years hehe...)

it's heartbreaking to see nano behaving this way. i think he was certain that the members didn't need him anymore. MARS was better as a four-membered group. he wasn't important to them how they were important to him.

but... we know that's not the case.

i'm so excited to see how nano found love and purpose in thame. we saw how important thame was to jun and dylan, so seeing it from nano's perspective will definitely serve as a treat (and more pain).

and pepper's story arc... oh God. i have a feeling he's the easiest to return to the group because he holds no grudges. he understands thame and sees the decisions he made were for the group. he's the mediator and also the connector of the group, and potentially thame's relationship advisor.

however... i think pepper's story arc will be the turning point in this story, the conflict, a reflection of thamepo's relationship in the future.

in the trailer, they held a press con and pepper was sitting in the middle. i think he would be involved in a gossip that might affect the group's reputation. but at that point, they'd already reunited, so all members were present to support him. AND ALSO, it was when thame kissed po in the storage room (?) so yes... so excited to see how pepper's story will unfold.

ok, before i end this post, i also want to add...

i think khun pemika knows that thame (and MARS/po) are plotting something behind her back because it's impossible for a company's CEO not to know what her artists are doing? she has many observers... it's not possible for another betrayal arc initiated from the people closest to MARS/po in the upcoming episodes...

[pompomqt]

Journey to the West chapter 71

I love Guanyin but she has got to keep better track of her pets.

Welcome back to this week's chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest. This week we have a Queen to rescue, so let's get into it shall we?

Since Wukong failed to escape with the bells last time, the palace is now on high alert looking for him. As a fly Wukong makes his way back to the queen, who is currently under the impression that her rescue attempt was a complete failure and is in tears over it. After Wukong is able to convince her that he is indeed alive and currently a fly, he tells her he is going to need to try and lure the demon one more time, this time with feeling.

Wukong, probably inspired by the king constantly trying to get him drunk, suggests that the Queen try and do the same to the demon, while he transforms as her favorite servant to wait for the right opportunity to take the bells. So the Queen calls in her servant, named Spring Grace, and Wukong puts her to sleep with his sleep insect spell, before taking her appearance and going to wait with the other servants. Meanwhile, the Queen goes and fetches Jupiter's Rival, and asks for him to retire with her for the night, and also calls for some wine to help ease his wariness.

The Queen lays on the charm, while Wukong has the other servants entertain them with song and dance, while he serves them wine. After a while, the Queen feels it's safe to broach the topic of the bells again and asks if they were damaged. The Demon says they are just fine and he has them tied around his waist again. Now that Wukong knows where the bells are, he decides to divest the demon of them by changing some of his hairs into flea's and lice.

The Demon is horrified by his own apparent lack of hygiene in front of the girl he likes. The Queen however is very polite, and suggests he strips so they can get rid of all the bugs, which the demon agrees to. During the chaos, Wukong is able to offer that the Demon hand the bells to him, which the Demon does without really thinking it through. Once he has the bells, Wukong hides them on his person before making a copy and handing that set back to the demon. The Demon is also gracious enough to hand them back to the Queen for safe keeping despite what happened last time. After that the party winds down and everyone retires for the night.

Meanwhile with a little unlocking magic, Wukong is able to leave the demon strong hold through the front door.... only to immediately turn around and start banging on the door, demanding the Queen's return. When the demon finally gets tired of all the racket he's making and goes out to fight him, Wukong introduces himself as Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven the wrecked havoc in heaven five hundred years ago. The Demon asks if he's so important, why he's acting as an errand boy for the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom. Wukong is offended at the idea of being anyone's servant, and the two begin to fight.

The two fight for long enough for Jupiter's Rival to realize he's outmatched like this, calls for a 'breakfast break' so he can go retrieve the bells. Wukong is well aware of his intentions but let's him go anyways. The Demon goes to receive the bells from the Queen, who hands them over fearfully, under the impression that they are the real deal. Bells now in hand, the Demon once again goes to confront Sun Wukong, only for Wukong to show him that he has three identical bells himself. Monkey suggests that they must have been made at the same time, and that he has the female set while the Demon has the male.

So they have a little bell shaking contest, and Wukong graciously allows the Demon to go first. Of course the Demon shakes the bells, but to no avail, and the Demon comes to the conclusion that they must be having performance anxiety in front of their girlfriend. I wonder if the night he's had so far, had any influence on that idea. Either way, it's Monkey's turn, and I guess girls just do it better, because his bells actually work exactly as advertised. However before Wukong can use the power of the bells to wipe out the demon, who should arrive but Guanyin? Odd, usually he is the one that has to go fetch her when they run into trouble.

Turns out it's no coincidence that she's here though, since this demon happens to be another one of her missing pets! Unlike the goldfish catastrophe however, this pet didn't come down just to eat children and cause problems. Jupiter's Rival's true identity is that of the Golden-Haired Wolf that Guanyin likes to ride on sometimes, and actually came her for some 'not quite sanctioned, but not not sanctioned vigilante justice.

See back when the King of the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom was still just the prince, he was an avid hunter and shot two rather important birds, who were the children of the Great King Peacock. For this crime they decided to sentence him to three years of pining, Guanyin was with her wolf when this sentence was passed down, so later on when the wolf escaped, he decided to come down here and handle the sentence personally.

Wukong is fine with that story and all and is willing to spare the demon's life, but still thinks he should be punished and asks Guanyin if he can smack him around a little more for all the trouble he caused. Unfortunately for him, Guanyin says no, and takes the wolf and bells back to heaven with her, despite Wukong's best attempts to keep the bells.

Now all that's left is to reunite the happy couple- one problem though, the Queen is still wearing the 'Pain Cloak' so Wukong can't just fly her back. So instead he weaves together some grass into a dragon and has her climb onto it and he flies that back. Why can't he use that method on Tripitaka to make the journey shorter again?

Anyways they arrive back at the palace in record time, unfortunately their beautiful reunion turns a bit sour when the King tries to take hand and falls to the ground in agony. Which I guess Zhang Ziyang, the god who gave her the garment in the first place takes as his cue to take it back now that she doesn't need it anymore. Once he takes back his coat and is on his way, the King and Queen are able to reunite for real this time. After Wukong has finished regaling them the tale of this arc, it is time for the pilgrims to continue one their Journey to the West.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, object transformation, distance reduction, vanishing in a flash of light, super healing, transforming others, Invisibility, Wind Immunity, Medicine Making, putting out fire from a distance with a glass of wine and weaving a straw dragon Demon Kill Count: 712 + Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1039 God's Defeated: 23 + Unknown number Defeats: 7 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law, looting corpses, trading counterfeit goods, criminal threat, animal abuse, Assisting or Instigating Escape, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Disorderly Conduct, Joyriding and unauthorized practice of medicine Cry Count: 11 + 3 fake cries Mountains Trapped Under: 4

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka and the Tang Monk Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization, Heart Sutra, Meditation, and Being Heaven's Specialist Little Guy Cry Count: 35 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 63 Paralyzed by fear: 6 Bandit Problems: 3 Kidnapped by demons: 11 Falling Off Horses: 11

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, flight, Magic of Water Restriction, Singing, Sword Dancing and Magic Pee Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 4 Kidnapped by demons: 3

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring, size enhancement, CPR and Shoveling Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 15 + Unknown number of minions Kidnapped by Demons: 7 Human Kill Count: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 4 Cry Count: 2 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping, arson, defamation, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption, Identity Fraud, Theft, Forcible entry, Disrupting a Funeral, Violating Tree Law and Arson

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater, Cloud soaring, and fetching water from a well. Demon Kill Count: 1 + Unknown number of minions. Kidnapped by Demons: 5 Human Kill Count: 1 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, desecration of a human corpse, Damage to Religious Property, contaminating a substance for human consumption and Arson

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 2)

2. The wheel of death

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the second episode.

Warnings for this chapter: canon typical violence, kidnapping

Word count: 3,1k

Theme song: “Haunted Isles” by Derek Fiechter (click on the link)

A/N: I almost didn't believe I wrote so much considering the process felt so slow and kind of annoying. Not the best chapter I've written so far, not something I'm necessarily proud of, but I wanted to follow OPLA's plot. I know 3k words isn't much, but I already prepared pieces of the next chapters that I'm genuinely excited to share with you. Half of this part is filled with action, meanwhile, the next chapter will be full of psychological analysis and a lot of thoughts + more interactions between the reader and Zoro.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" from now on, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

The view made her smile as she looked at the dark blue nuance of the sea, her eyes sparkling just like the moon that was hidden by the gray clouds at that time. Her heart beat so peacefully, in sync with the waves of the water, and with every inhale she could feel that sensation taking over her senses. Everytime she got on a ship, the feeling grew stronger and stronger and she doubted there was a limit.

Freedom had no limit and she wondered if that's what it felt like.

"We're not a crew," Zoro and Nami — the woman with orange hair — said in unison.

Luffy was dead set on calling four people a crew, despite the fact that it was a decision he kind of made on his own.

Zoro's tall figure disappeared inside the cabin, where he intended to nap. She was intrigued; it was the same man who made a fool of those marines back at the tavern. The witch was confused about the soft clinck sounds coming from him, until she realized it was just his three golden earrings hitting one another at each move.

Luffy's last crewmate smiled, endeared by the unfaltering enthusiasm their supposed captain was radiating. He was like a ball of energy since they got on Nami's ship and sailed away with help from Koby.

"So, you're a witch," Luffy excitedly turned towards her.

"You could call me that, I think," she shrugged.

"Do you do magic? Like, potions in a cauldron and spells with candles—"

"I think you know too many stereotypes," she let out a long sigh.

Nami was on her knees in front of the safe box, ear glued to the locker as she rolled it between her fingers.

"So you won't chop us into pieces and boil us?" She arched her eyebrow, unintentionally feeding Luffy's crazy ideas.

"You—!"

"No, I don't."

She rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and pointer finger.

"What about you two talking after I finish unlocking this? I need silence."

The witch sat down, resting her body against a barrel as she watched Nami's careful actions. Now that she thinks about it, she never saw someone so sure of themselves while opening up this kind of locker, which meant it wasn't the first time she did it either. She presented herself as a thief.

Luffy was agitated, roaming around and stretching, a big smile on his lips. He was holding back from babbling until he forgot he had to keep his mouth shut.

"I almost can't believe I already have a crew and we got our hands on the Grand Line map."

"Luffy," the witch whispered so she wouldn't disturb Nami. "You do know none of us promised to take part in this adventure, right?"

She was trying her best to be gentle about the topic, especially since he seemed so happy he couldn't hold back at all. Luffy had no filter anymore, saying whatever came to mind, but she supposed he's always like that.

"Maybe you'll change your mind," he beamed.

"I appreciate your help a lot, kid, and I'll try my best to help you if I get the chance until we get to the next destination, but I don't know about that," she shook her head.

"You said the same thing at the tavern: that it's dangerous."

"And I still didn't change my mind. It is dangerous."

"Can you be silent?" Nami accentuated her words in annoyance.

"Sorry," the witch muttered.

The orange haired woman glued her ear to the lock again, eyes narrowed and brows pulled together in concentration. One strand of hair fell over her blue eyes but she didn't mind it while she continued opening the locker up.

A small click vibrated shyly through the air and Nami snapped up.

"It's open!" she shouted.

From inside the box, Nami took a long cylinder and opened it. The witch moved behind her and looked at the map of the Grand Line, inspecting it with the eye of someone who wasn't an expert at all. She was focusing on the navigator's explanations so intensely, she didn't notice when the other two approached. Zoro's swords brushed by her leg, moving her entire attention to him.

The sound of fireworks filled the air.

"The marines? When did they find us?" Nami furrowed her eyebrows.

"What's with the red smoke?" the witch found herself asking right after she started seeing in nuances.

"It smells weird," Luffy muttered.

She found out it was true only after she inhaled it and her vision was getting blurry. Everything happened so fast: Nami falling first, then Zoro saying something she couldn't hear. Her body got soft and in less than a few seconds, she fell unconscious after she caught a glimpse of a pirate ship.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch rubbed her wrists together, but her attempt to escape from the rope digging into her skin was futile. She was sitting in an open chest, her knees pulled close to her chest; both her legs and wrists were tied and she was growing tired of it.

They were kidnapped by some pirate clowns and thrown into what he called the Green Room. Luffy was still in the main tent, and what was happening to him was a secret between the clowns and the dozens of people who had their legs chained like animals.

The Green Room was filled with strange things and old furniture and cushions. Golden bulbs shined and reflected into some square mirrors and another large one with skulls as ornaments. There was a chair in front of a desk, where cups were placed next to some photos. A creepy white mannequin stood right next to the chest she was sitting in, wearing an elegant purple scarf. Something that imitated a chandelier was hanging in the middle of the roof, made out of big flower cups of white thin material. Zoro's swords were left against one of the cushions, where her two identical guns were.

A barely audible groan left the swordsman's lips as he struggled against the rope that glued his wrists to a big wheel.

"They're too strong even for you," Nami commented in a shallow tone.

Both of her hands clutched at the metal bars of the wide bird cage she was stuck in.

"I need to get out of here and kill some clowns," he muttered, focused on escaping. "I've got out of worse."

"With that I have to agree," the witch sighed.

"I saw a town when I got out of the tent… what was left of it after Buggy destroyed it."

"You mean, when you tried to leave us for dead?" Zoro grimaced after pulling at the ropes again.

The witch was like a bystander, her eyes running from one to the other. They were seriously insane, ready to argue in a life-or-death situation.

"You were picking up a fight you couldn't win," Nami snapped her head towards the swordsman.

"I know your type: if there's nothing to gain, you're out."

"Says the one who runs after Berries—"

"Shut it, you two," the witch intervened, letting out a groan. "We can argue and throw venom at each other after we get out of here."

"If we get out of here," Nami retorted.

"We do because I have too much of an ego to play in a circus created by a maniac," the witch mumbled.

After a few moments of silence, no sounds coming from outside the room they were left in, Nami got a lock pin out of her boot.

"Didn't they take all of them?" Zoro asked.

"They only took three," she smirked for a brief moment.

The witch leaned her torso forward and, despite the painful tug of the rope, she tried to raise them to the belt of her pants. She snuck her fingers between the two pieces of clothing and bit at her bottom lip when her skin started stinging painfully.

Finally, she got a small pocket knife out and grinned.

"I thought you were a witch," the swordsman gazed at her.

"You'll see magic once I get out of here," she joked.

A loud scream ripped through the air and it made all of them snap their heads towards the door.

Was that Luffy?

The witch's blood froze in her veins.

"You better hurry," Zoro whispered.

The witch gulped and wielded the knife between her fingers until the sharp edge grazed the rope around her wrists. She moved the knife up and down, putting as much pressure as the position allowed her. Nami, on the other hand, continued rolling the lock pick into the padlock.

Now that the woman stared intently at the mannequin while cutting the rope — even if way too slowly —, the doll had a scary smile painted in black on its porcelain face. Why was it looking back at her?

Minutes of unsuccessful cutting ropes and rolling lock picks, after another groan coming out of Zoro's mouth, he spoke:

"Someone's coming."

"Keep them talking, I need more time," Nami turned her head.

"Same here."

"I don't talk, I hit things," he grunted.

"Then change your hobby," the witch huffed.

The witch's eyes widened and she leaned back against the chest, so her arms and pocket knife would be hidden. Her heart was beating painfully fast in between her ribs and it was almost ridiculous, how she was sweating and the clothes started getting uncomfortable.

A monocycle creaked under the man who just got inside the room. He passed right by her when he came in, which sent her into an inner crisis. Wearing dark colored clothes and an unbuttoned coat without sleeves, the man hopped off and let the object fall to the floor.

She had no clue why the pirate chose to get close to the swordsman, who looked at him dead in the eye.

"Remember me?" the pirate spoke.

"No. Must be some other homicidal, unicycle-riding clown."

The witch was reminded you pay for the audacity of speaking up to your enemy when you're locked up; Zoro got instantly hit by the pirate's fist into the stomach. However, he didn't give that clown any satisfaction, his lips glued.

She eyed Nami, who was turned with her back at the lock of her cage, trying to open it without even looking at it. Damn, it wasn't good.

The witch couldn't hear whatever the fuck that clown was muttering at Zoro's ear, her fingers moving the knife faster, a tight knot settling in her throat as adrenaline pumped through her.

Nami made eye contact with the swordsman and the pirate who called himself Cabaji turned towards her.

"I've never met a clown. I thought they're supposed to be funny. Do some acrobatics on your monocycle, maybe it can help the time pass."

The witch shouldn't have opened her mouth in the first place, but if Nami was caught, it could've ended badly. Maybe it was the fault of the adrenaline, but pissing off that idiot with three strands of mint green hair made her smirk victoriously.

People who get angry when you step on their ego have always been the funniest creatures alive.

Of course, the reaction she received wasn't a good one. The pirate took two knives from his belt and stepped closer. She refused to look away and nothing could erase that grin off her face.

"Still doesn't ring a bell," Zoro caught his attention again.

Bad move. One of Cabaji's knives cut through the air and sunk into the wood the swordsman was glued to. Any other sounds have immediately been silenced.

"You followed us day and night for weeks through the Goa kingdom, never relenting, like some kind of demon."

Oh, so that's who Roronoa Zoro really was; the witch dared to allow her curiosity to act like a sponge about the new information. Interesting. The swordsman was a demon and a bounty hunter. Amazing combo.

He was probably hated by every pirate on the sea.

The woman tried her best to focus on the pocket knife between her fingers, but she couldn't help the fear crawling up into her skin. They had to get out of there alive and, preferably, with their limbs attached to their body.

After a few heavy steps, Cabaji gripped at the edge of the wooden wheel and in less than two seconds, the swordsman was rotating like a toy. The pirate walked roughly two meters away and then continued tossing knives, each time managing to avoid Zoro's flesh.

Nami and the witch looked at each other for a brief moment and then continued with their previous work.

When the rope finally got cut, she looked at the maniac pirate who didn't stop with his play yet. She held back her reactions, instead choosing to look at the swordsman who was rotating in the air and it made her pale. Time passed by too slowly and she slowly let out a long sigh when the wheel stopped from moving.

"You really don't fear death, do you?" Cabaji huffed.

He wasn't satisfied by the lack of reaction he received from Zoro who looked like he's gone through that three times a day for years. How did he manage to keep such a poker face?

"No, I just don't fear you."

Good, make him corner you.

The pirate didn't think twice before he threw a knife that aimed right above the swordsman's wrist. Their enemy wasn't careful enough, since the rope could now be easily cut.

Cabaji walked towards Zoro — another mistake. Nami already opened her cage and she was silently getting out. The witch didn't hesitate when she stopped pretending like she still had her wrists tied together. Clutching at the knife between her fingers, she raised her hand and tossed the sharp object through the air, aiming at the man's back.

"Thinking you're the only one who can play with knives, clown?" she huffed.

Cabaji turned and it was Nami's opportunity to kick his stomach with her foot, which made him fall on his back, the knife digging further into his flesh, cutting through his ribs and lung.

Finally, the witch's anxiety lowered now that one of their men was down. Now, who knows how many more they had to defeat.

"I didn't take you for a criminal."

Nami took one of the knives stuck in the wheel and cut Zoro's rope and then came to her other crewmate, helping with the rope around her ankles.

"I was desperate and he was annoying," the witch shrugged while she rubbed at her aching wrists.

When she found the freedom of moving again, she got out of the chest and took all the knives she found, including the ones from the wheel.

"What's the plan?" Zoro asked as he arranged his swords back at his hip.

"I say we beat the shit out of every clown we see," Nami grinned.

The witch smiled after she put each knife at her belt, rolling another one between her fingers. With her guns sitting at each side of her hip and the bonus of adrenaline, it felt like nothing could stop her.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The sharp edge of the weapon broke the glass after she threw it right in the middle of Luffy's aquarium — or whatever that thing was supposed to be.

"Luffy!" she shouted his name.

The glass wall of his cage shattered and the water splashed around, the straw hat coughing, his face pale. He was on the floor, soaked to the bone. His straw hat was so close to him,yet so far away. Luffy vomited the cylinder with the map and despite the nausea he was experiencing, he crawled to his hat.

He put himself in danger this entire time and chose not to let go of the Grand Line map, but that object held much more importance to him. The witch froze for a mere moment, confused, but when she wanted to get closer and get the map away from Buggy, a pirate with a sword came sprinting towards her.

"Witch!" she heard a gruff voice.

She dodged it before her head could get cut off and sank a knife into his stomach, only to raise the agony after she hit the man in the same spot, blood gushing out of his wound and soaking his clothes.

With a swift motion, her fingers grabbed at one of her revolvers. She fired at Buggy who was a breath away from touching the map, but didn't pay enough attention to another attack towards her.

A sword's edge shone in the corner of her eye and no matter how fast she was, she couldn't dodge that. Her eyes widened and she waited for the pain to inflict into her body. The pirate froze in place and his sword slipped between his fingers. When he fell to his knees, from behind him there was Zoro who was using a three-sword style.

Definitely a demon; but in a good way.

The witch nodded at him. She didn't train properly in the past year and she lost some speed on the way. She hasn't been in such a situation for a long time.

With other two pirates attacking them from the sides, she protected his blind spot while he killed another enemy with a mere flick of his swords. Another loud shot rang through the air and another man fell down, the center of his heart pierced.

"Buggy needs to have a weakness," the witch said.

"And what is it?"

The answer was right before their eyes: Luffy managed to get back to his feet while they were busy. He used his ability to elongate his arm and grabbed at the leg who was moving in the air, only to throw it in a chest. Nami closed it and grinned mischievously.

That was it.

The witch rolled another knife between her fingers and analyzed the detached hand that was rotating around her. At the perfect time, she threw it in the middle of its palm with enough force to send it into another chest, Nami locking it.

They focused on getting each part of Buggy's body stuck in any suitable place, be it a chest, a barrel or under a bucket. For as long as they got rid of that maniac, everything was fine.

She let out a sigh when only the clown's head remained intact, now laughing pitifully. Zoro bent down and grabbed the head, locking it into a box and putting a rock on top of it.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

A/N: Thank you so much for the comments and the support <3

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