#i would rather someone say they HATE the thing i made than have someone comment this

[ratspider]

i have a lot of opinions that i know are stupid but ONE of the is that i HATE the use of the word 'underrated' in youtube comment sections. I Don't Know Why. as far as anyone is concerned it's a compliment but it fills me with rage whenever i see it.

[mrfoox]

Bruh. Self... Analyzing and reflecting on past relationships is.... Rough

[br0kenangel]

Baby Targaryens as adults headcanon: how would they fall for you? How they are in a relationship in general?

characters: Jaehaerys, Maelor, Aegon III, Viserys II.

Jaehaerys doesn’t fall in love gracefully. No, he sees you once, maybe catching you out of the corner of his eye while he’s busy rolling them at Aegon or suffering through some royal function he doesn’t want to be at. His first thought? “Great. Another distraction.”

But something about you makes him pause, something makes him stare a little longer. And before he even understands it himself, the moment he lays eyes on you, in that deadpan, signature cold style of his, he mutters under his breath, “beautiful.”

Jaehaerys is different from other men in court. He doesn’t care to charm you, impress you, or, gods forbid, flirt with you. No, that’s Mealor’s job, with his smiles and "how are you this fine evening, my lady?" Jaehaerys? He just glares at you across the room, assessing. He doesn’t need to court you. You’re already his—he decided that five minutes ago. Now he’s just waiting for you to realize it.

If he ever does try to flirt, it's the most awkward, detached, disastrous thing you’ve ever witnessed. He’ll stare at you for a bit too long and say something like, “Your hair... it’s fine, I suppose.” Or worse, “You don’t annoy me as much as everyone else.”

It’s so unintentionally rude that you almost laugh—but he’s dead serious, just standing there, completely oblivious to how bad he is at this.

It doesn’t help that Jaehaerys is unreasonably attractive. He’s taller than his father, with that same Targaryen beauty, but he’s always looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. People fall all over themselves around him, but he just rolls his eyes. When you don’t, he’s intrigued. It’s almost like a challenge to him. Why aren’t you impressed? he wonders, eyebrows raised. You’re not supposed to be immune to him.

Aegon, his one and only friend (though Jaehaerys would never admit it), notices Jaehaerys watching you with a bit more interest than usual and teases him endlessly. Jaehaerys, tired of the teasing, the world, and quite frankly, of you for making him feel something, just glares and says, “Shut up, Aegon.”

Aegon keeps poking him, though. “You like her, don’t you?” And Jaehaerys’s face twists in annoyance before he just groans, “Gods, Aegon, leave me alone. I just want to sleep.” Which, funnily enough, is his attitude about everything. He’d much rather be napping than dealing with feelings.

Most lords would play the long game, trying to win your favor, doing all the polite things. Jaehaerys? Nah. He doesn’t care. He sees you, he wants you, and that’s it. End of story. He walks up to you one day, fully expecting the conversation to end in you being his.

His approach? Straightforward and blunt: “We’re going to wed. That’s not a question.”

You’re stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I'm in love with you,” he says flatly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “So you’re mine now.”

There’s no pleading, no coy smile. He’s already made the decision for both of you.

He’s deeply annoyed by the fact that he even has feelings for you. He’ll be sitting in his chambers, brooding, trying to read, but all he can think about is you. He scowls, tossing the book aside. “Why?” he mumbles to himself, irritated. “Why do I even care?”

He’s annoyed that you’ve distracted him, that you’ve taken up residence in his mind, and yet, he’ll spend hours watching you from afar. He won’t admit it, but you’re the only thing that makes him not hate everything for a little while.

The moment you show interest in someone else? Forget it. Jaehaerys is right there, appearing out of nowhere like some shadowy ghost. He’ll stand between you and anyone who dares approach, giving them a cold, dismissive look. And he’ll say, in that cutting, dry voice of his, “She’s not interested.” He doesn’t even ask how you feel—he’s already made the decision for you.

People often comment on how lucky you are to have caught Jaehaerys’s eye, because—let’s face it—he’s gorgeous. But the moment he opens his mouth? Everything gets awkward. He’s either blunt, rude in the most polite way, or just plain dismissive. You’ll walk into a room, and someone will say, “You look beautiful today.”

Jaehaerys, overhearing, just rolls his eyes and mutters, “She looks beautiful every day. Obviously.” Then adds under his breath, “Can we leave now?”

The thing with Jaehaerys is, once he decides he wants you, there’s no escape. Not in a creepy way, but in a he-will-not-leave-you-alone way. He’ll suddenly be everywhere—at your side, giving you that I’m-annoyed-but-interested look. And when you try to argue, he just cuts you off with, “Don’t bother. I’ve already decided. You’re mine.”

You realize, in a strange, funny way, that it’s almost comforting—knowing that once Jaehaerys chooses something (or someone), he’s completely devoted. Even if he’s the most sarcastic, emotionally unavailable person on the planet, he’s yours.

Maelor has an unmatched talent for getting into trouble, but the way he struts into it is almost impressive. He’ll walk into a room, compliment someone on their ridiculously oversized hat, steal the silverware off the table, and wink at you on the way out like it was all part of some grand performance. When you ask him why he does these things, he just shrugs and says, “It’s called living, love. Try it sometime.”

Flirting is basically Maelor’s second language. He’ll start with something overly dramatic, like, “You, my dear, are the moon to my drunken stumbles,” and before you can even roll your eyes, he’s convinced the entire room that you’re madly in love with him. Even if you’re not. Especially if you’re not. When you point this out, he grins and says, “Can you blame them? Look at me.” (He’s very humble.)

Maelor does not believe in subtlety when it comes to his wardrobe. He’ll walk into a council meeting wearing a deep purple silk tunic, velvet cape, and, of course, his beloved golden earring. He’ll probably have a feathered hat, too, just because he can. When you tell him he’s dressed like he’s going to a festival and not, you know, preparing for day, he’ll just smirk and say, “I know, I’m practically a walking work of art.”

You’d think Maelor’s silver tongue would be infallible when it comes to flirting. But when he really likes someone, the smooth talk disappears. He’ll go from “You’re the most stunning creature in Westeros,” to “You…uh…have very…nice shoes? I guess.” The more he likes you, the worse it gets. You’re watching a man who can talk his way out of a dragon’s mouth completely lose it because he can’t think of a single charming thing to say.

Maelor has a special talent for vanishing from the scene of his crimes just in time, leaving you in awe of his ability to slip away right when things go south. Whether it’s after “borrowing” a lord’s prized horse or sweet-talking his way into a highborn feast, he’s gone with a blink and a laugh. He’ll reappear later with a cup of wine and a grin, saying, “Hello darling.” (He never learns his lesson because somehow, he never gets caught.)

Maelor loves wine. And not just a casual love—he’s borderline obsessed with it (worse than his father). At every meal, he’s got a goblet in hand, and he’s always trying to top yours up like you’re both on some extended holiday. “You haven’t lived until you’ve had this vintage,” he’ll say, pouring you a cup while simultaneously swiping an entire bottle for later. If you ask him why he always has to drink, he’ll flash a charming grin and say, “Life’s too short to be sober.”

Maelor flirts with everyone—it’s just who he is. But with you? There’s a sincerity behind his teasing that isn’t there with anyone else. When he calls you “gorgeous” or “darling,” it’s not just part of his game—it’s real. And when he flirts with others in your presence, it’s to get a rise out of you, just to see that flash of jealousy in your eyes. “What’s wrong? You know you’re my favorite.”

That golden earring he’s so proud of? He thinks it’s the height of fashion. He’ll casually flip his hair just so it catches the light, and if you compliment him on it (even sarcastically), he’ll give you a knowing look like you’ve just confirmed his suspicions of being the most fashionable man alive. He’ll say, “Ah, you’ve noticed. I knew you had taste.” You can’t even tell if he’s joking or not.

Maelor loves pulling pranks and stealing random things, but he’s the worst at being subtle about it. He’ll swipe a coin purse or a golden goblet, only for you to see it sticking out of his coat five minutes later. When you point it out, he’ll just laugh and say, “Oops. Must have slipped in there.” He’s too charming to be mad at, and he knows it.

When Maelor really likes you, he becomes an absolute disaster. His usual suave lines turn into awkward stumbles. “You…uh, look nice. I mean, not that you didn’t look nice before, but like…yeah.” You watch him go from the most confident man in the room to someone who can’t even make eye contact. It’s adorable, really, watching him struggle to be smooth when he’s head over heels.

One moment, Maelor is all smiles and teasing, and the next, he’s quiet, watching you with a calculating gaze. It’s like he’s always thinking three steps ahead, figuring out how to get you closer to him without you even realizing it. When he’s like this, he’ll casually brush a hand against yours, lean in just a little too close, and murmur something so soft it’s almost dangerous: “You know you’re the only one who can keep up with me, right?”

Maelor’s idea of a “cunning plan” usually involves a lot of improvisation and almost no foresight. He’ll convince you to help him steal something valuable or sneak into a lord’s private party, assuring you he has it all figured out. Spoiler: he does not have it all figured out. But somehow, through sheer luck and charm, it always works out. “See? Told you I had a plan,” he’ll say with a grin, as if you both weren’t two seconds away from disaster.

Maelor doesn’t get jealous in the traditional sense, but he’s definitely possessive in his own subtle way. If someone else is flirting with you, he’ll step in with that dazzling smile and start charming them instead, all while keeping you close. “You’re coming with me, love,” he’ll say smoothly, completely unbothered by the competition. And when he steals you away, he’ll shoot you a knowing grin, as if to say, “You’re mine, and we both know it.”

If there’s one thing Maelor loves, it’s teasing you. He’ll steal something of yours, just to watch you get flustered trying to get it back. “Looking for this?” He’ll dangle it in front of you with that mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. But as soon as he sees you getting genuinely upset, he’ll soften, handing it back with a playful wink. “Alright, alright, here you go. I’m only teasing, darling.”

Maelor steals more than just gold—he steals hearts, too. You didn’t mean to fall for him, but it’s hard not to when he’s always pulling you into wild adventures and making you laugh. You’ll be fuming because he just got you both chased out of a tavern, but then he’ll look at you with those pretty eyes and that teasing smile, and suddenly you’re not so mad anymore. He knows it, too. “I’m irresistible, admit it,” he’ll say with a wink.

Maelor can flirt, trick, and outsmart most people, but when it comes to saying goodbye? He’s the worst. He’ll tell you he’s leaving for a trip, only to sneak back into your chambers hours later with a bottle of wine and say, “Miss me yet?” It’s impossible to get rid of him, and honestly, you’re not even sure you want to anymore.

Aegon is the definition of effortlessly charming, with that roguish smile and easy-going nature. He’s the type to charm everyone at court without even trying, and half the time, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. So when he falls for you, it’s not because he’s trying to win you over—he’s just being his usual, flirtatious self, flashing you that cheeky grin and thinking, “Well, why wouldn't you fall for me?”

Aegon doesn’t flirt. He exists and somehow, people think he’s flirting. He could be talking about the weather, and it would still sound like the most seductive thing you’ve ever heard. When he meets you, it’s no different. “You look lovely today,” he says casually, while inside, he’s mentally patting himself on the back for keeping it smooth. But he’s secretly freaking out because, for once, he actually wants to impress someone.

Aegon is normally laid-back, but with you, it’s different. He catches himself staring at you all the time, whether you’re in the middle of a conversation or just passing by. He’ll be sitting in court, pretending to pay attention, but all his focus is on you. And when you catch him staring, he’ll just wink and give you a little smirk, like it was totally on purpose.

Aegon is a very physical person, and once he decides he’s into you, that’s it. He’s always finding ways to touch you, whether it’s a hand on your back, a playful nudge, or just casually throwing an arm around your shoulders. It’s his way of saying, “Hey, I’m into you,” without actually saying it. And if anyone else tries to get too close? Aegon’s immediately at your side, leaning in close and making sure everyone knows who you belong to.

Aegon is a sweet-talker through and through. He’s always showering you with compliments, and the thing is, they sound genuine. You’ll be sitting there, minding your own business, and he’ll just pop up with, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, you know that?” And you know he’s probably said it to a dozen people before, but somehow, with you, it feels different—like he actually means it.

Subtlety is not Aegon’s strong suit. If you’re trying to play it cool or make him work for it, forget it. He’ll take your coy responses as a challenge, and instead of backing off, he’ll just double down on the charm. “Playing hard to get, huh? I love that.” He thinks it’s all part of the game, and he’s having a great time, completely oblivious to how flustered he’s making you.

Aegon has big golden retriever energy. He’s the type who gets excited about everything, especially you. If you say something even remotely interesting, his face lights up, and he’s instantly hooked. “Wait, say that again? That’s amazing!” He’s like a puppy, hanging on your every word, and it’s almost impossible to stay mad at him because his enthusiasm is so infectious.

Aegon’s usually the easy-going type, but if someone else shows interest in you? Oh, he’s stepping in real quick. He’s not possessive in a creepy way, but he’s definitely the kind of guy to slide in next to you with a bright grin, casually draping an arm over your shoulder and making very clear that you’re his. “Hey, love, everything alright here?” He says it with a smile, but his eyes are daring the other person to try something.

Aegon is rarely serious, always cracking jokes and making light of situations. But when he’s with you, sometimes the jokes stop, and he’ll get this intense look in his eyes. He’ll brush a strand of hair behind your ear and say something like, “You know you mean the world to me, right?” And it’s so sincere and unexpected that it catches you off guard. Just when you think he’s nothing but playful charm, he hits you with a moment of real vulnerability.

Underneath all the flirting and jokes, Aegon is deeply loyal. Once he’s decided that he’s yours (and you’re his), he’s all in. He might be playful with others, but with you, it’s different. He’s always there when you need him, ready to drop everything for you. And despite how easy-going he seems, he’s serious about his feelings for you. You’ll never have to wonder where you stand with him, because he’s always making it abundantly clear how much you mean to him.

Aegon loves grand gestures. He’s the type to show up at your window in the middle of the night with flowers, or whisk you away for a spontaneous trip, just because. He’ll leave little notes for you, filled with sweet, silly messages like, “I’m thinking about you. Don’t miss me too much.” He may act like a carefree person, but when it comes to you, he’s an absolute romantic at heart.

Aegon’s favorite thing in the world? Making you smile. He’ll go out of his way to do it, whether it’s through jokes, playful teasing, or simply being his charming self. He’s the kind of guy who, if he sees you upset, will drop everything to make you laugh. And once he’s got that smile out of you? Mission accomplished. You’re his world, and he’ll do anything to keep that smile on your face.

Viserys is the grounding force in Maelor’s whirlwind of trouble and adventure. While Maelor is off flirting, tricking, and scheming, Viserys is the calm, steady one, always there to clean up the mess. He watches from the sidelines with a soft, knowing smile, ready to step in when things go too far. Maelor often drags you into his escapades, but it’s Viserys who quietly ensures you’re safe. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you both survive Maelor’s next ‘great idea.’”

Viserys is the type to care deeply but silently. He’s not the type to loudly declare his feelings, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll subtly make sure you’re taken care of, always offering help without you having to ask. Whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable during a long journey or pulling you out of one of Maelor’s risky games, Viserys is always there, quietly protecting you. He’ll brush it off with a modest smile, saying, “It’s nothing,” but you know better.

When Viserys falls in love, he falls hard. He doesn’t do things halfway—once he’s set his heart on you, that’s it. You’ll notice how his attention lingers on you more than anyone else, how he’s always looking out for your needs before his own. He’ll give you his full attention, listen to everything you say, and remember the smallest details about you. It’s not dramatic or flashy, but it’s deep and unwavering. “You matter more to me than you realize.”

Viserys and Maelor are a duo that’s practically inseparable. While Maelor is the mischievous troublemaker, Viserys is the one who always steps in to help him out of sticky situations. Maelor gets himself into ridiculous trouble all the time, but Viserys is the one who makes sure things don’t go completely off the rails. “Honestly, Maelor. What did you do this time?” He’ll say it with a sigh, but there’s affection in his eyes as he helps his best friend out yet again. It’s a relationship built on deep trust, and you’re often caught in the middle of their dynamic.

Viserys’s love is soft and gentle. He’s not the type to overwhelm you with grand gestures, but he’ll show his love in small, meaningful ways. He’ll remember the way you take your tea, ensure your favorite book is waiting for you after a long day, and offer a reassuring smile when you need it most. His presence is soothing, like a steady flame that never burns too bright but never wavers either. “I’m here for you, always.”

Viserys is smart—incredibly so. He’s the one who sees ten steps ahead, the strategist who quietly observes and plans, ensuring that no one can outwit him. When Maelor’s wild schemes start spiraling out of control, Viserys is already two steps ahead, subtly pulling strings to fix everything. With you, he’s just as attentive, always knowing what you need even before you realize it. “You’re more predictable than you think, but I like that about you.” He’ll say with a teasing smile, his eyes warm with affection.

There’s something about Viserys that’s endlessly comforting. He’s the rock in a storm, the one who remains calm no matter how chaotic things get. When Maelor’s antics get overwhelming or life becomes too much, Viserys is there, offering quiet support. He doesn’t need to say much to make you feel at ease—just being near him is enough. His hand on yours, the way he softly says your name—it’s like everything is okay again.

Viserys is an excellent listener. He’ll sit with you for hours, listening to everything you have to say with genuine interest, no matter how trivial it might seem. He makes you feel heard, like every word you say matters to him. He doesn’t interrupt or offer advice unless you ask—he’s just there, present and engaged. “I’m always here to listen, you know that.”

Viserys’s loyalty is absolute. Once he’s decided he cares for you, there’s no changing his mind. He’s fiercely protective of the people he loves, though he does it in a quiet, understated way. If anyone tries to harm you or Maelor, Viserys won’t hesitate to step in, but he’ll do it with such calm precision that no one will see it coming. He’s the kind of person who would go to great lengths to protect you, without ever needing to brag about it. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll always take care of you.”

Viserys may not be as overtly flirty as Maelor, but he has his own way of showing affection. He’ll give you knowing looks from across the room, say something that seems innocent but has a deeper meaning, and brush his hand against yours just enough to send a shiver down your spine. It’s all so subtle that you might not even realize he’s flirting until you catch the way he smiles when you blush. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Once Viserys falls in love, everything he does starts to revolve around you. He’ll prioritize your needs over his own, making sure you’re comfortable, happy, and safe. He might not be as vocal about his feelings as some, but the way he makes you his priority in every situation speaks volumes. “Your happiness matters to me more than you know.”

Viserys rarely gets rattled. While Maelor might be loud, dramatic, and prone to theatrics, Viserys remains calm and collected in nearly every situation. It takes a lot to get under his skin, and he’s always the one diffusing tense moments with a soft word or a calm demeanor. Even when Maelor gets himself into the wildest situations, Viserys never loses his cool. “I expected this from you.” He’ll say with a sigh, shaking his head fondly.

When Viserys finally admits his feelings, it’s like a dam breaking. All of the quiet affection he’s been holding back comes flooding out in soft, earnest confessions. “I didn’t want to say anything because I wasn’t sure… but I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I love you. Deeply.” His love is steady, unwavering, and all-consuming in the best way possible. Once he’s yours, he’s yours completely, and there’s no turning back.

Maelor and Viserys are best friends through thick and thin. Maelor might be the more adventurous one, but Viserys is always there to support him. He doesn’t get involved in Maelor’s schemes for the thrill—he does it because he cares. And even when Maelor gets them into trouble, Viserys never holds it against him. It’s the same with you—once Viserys cares about someone, his loyalty is unshakable.

Viserys’s romantic gestures are thoughtful and subtle. He doesn’t go for grand displays of affection but instead does things that show how much he knows and cares for you. He’ll leave your favorite flower on your pillow, write you a heartfelt letter when he’s away, or make sure you’re always warm on a cold night. It’s not about impressing you—it’s about making sure you feel loved every day. “I don’t need to shout it from the rooftops. You should know by now how much you mean to me.”

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[shouts-into-the-void]

Just read screenshots of the Aaron extra chapter and I have so many thoughts, so here they are:

It's always so funny to me to be reminded of the fact that the animosity between Aaron and Neil is mostly one-sided. Like, Neil finds Aaron frustrating, but all the antagonistic stuff he does to him is ultimately in service of helping him in some way and while he's angry when Aaron provokes him, he otherwise regards him with disinterest and even expresses the desire to see what he's like when he's relaxed and enjoying himself during the party with the Vixens. Meanwhile Aaron just really hates that man.

I really appreciated Nora using this chapter to clear up some of the gripes a lot of the fandom has had with Aaron's character in the past and confirm that Aaron's comments to Nicky have to do with his cousin making graphic and unwanted sexual advances on their teammates, and his accusations towards Neil were from a place of concern for his brother. I also liked that it was pointed out that of course he would have at least some internalized homophobia due to being raised by religious zealots in a conservative area, but is unlearning it due to Nicky.

On a similar note, I'm glad that we were provided the context that Nicky's inappropriate behavior is a defense mechanism to weed out people who might hurt him rather than legitimate advances, because I think the fandom tends to forget that he is also a character with extreme trauma written outside of the "perfect victim" stereotype. His actions aren't okay, but the entire point is that they are the result of what he's had to endure just like every other member of the team

The implication that Andrew specifically signed with the Foxes so Aaron could go to college

Aaron and Andrew have the same nervous habit of picking at loose thread

It causes me physical pain to see Andrew clearly trying to open up to Aaron about his self-harm, but because his way of communicating is less straightforward (he doesn't lie, but he because he stuggles to confront and be open with his emotions, he presents the truth in flowery, vague language) and because the two dont really know or understand each other, Aaron can't fully grasp the implications of what he's saying

On the subject of things that cause me physical pain: baby Aaron telling his mom that he wanted to be a neurosurgeon like the people on TV and her laughing and saying he'd never make anything of himself. Fuck Tilda Minyard, all my homies hate Tilda.

Andrew is so uncomfortable, someone Get Him Out of There.

Going off that and his nervous habits (that Aaron mentions he did often enough to be noticable as a habit premedication), I am highkey wondering if the reason Sober Andrew doesn't talk to anyone outside Neil is because he's just. Socially Awkward.

We get a little bit of insight into Andrew's "misogyny" (I personally think distrusting certain people as a result of extreme personal trauma is a little bit different than just being sexist, in the same way women distrusting men because they're used to being harassed and belittled isn't misandry, but that's up to your personal opinion) and that his distain for Katelyn comes from the fact that he thinks she's stringing Aaron along and will turn out to be awful like his previous girlfriends (there's also a notable implication that Aaron has the same self-destructive tendencies as Andrew, and may be why he went out of his way to get him into college and on the straight-and-narrow) also see that this extends to Bee as well despite their close relationship, with him being so afraid that she'd reject him for being gay that he can't even look at her while talking about Neil, probably made worse by the fact that she's a maternal figure for him, which is where this trauma response originates.

Aaron is the only person on the team who's aware that Andrew hasn't slept with Neil, and the only one to grasp the significance of the fact that they've gotten close to that point already despite Andrew's trauma, outside of Renee

It was overall really interesting to see inside Aaron's head (I actually wouldn't mind a book from his perspective, he has a similar way of thinking to Neil but much more grounded) and to see Andrew through the lense of someone who just views him as Just A Guy

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a black cat girl

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fighting ig, idrk

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have had this request for like fifteen months lol but im finally doing it for my pookie's bday. Happy birthday ml 🫶 im posting it now so i dont forget lol

❀ he hates you at first sorry not sorry. bakugo just sees you as yet another one of those extras who happen to have an annoying tendency to fight with him. i feel like he might respect your tenacity but barely and he still hates your guts whoops

❀ on the topic of hatred, your other classmates half are jokingly shipping you and the other half are just wishing you two would stop fighting. mina is at the head of the shipping bandwagon especially after she read a book with rivals to lovers. todoroki might say he ships you guys only because he thinks it means he wants you two to get along lol

❀ your arguments would mostly be stupid shit like who rescued who, who did better on the assignment. you guys are rivals who also get into fistfights because why not.

❀ bakugo doesn't think much of your swearing problem because he's used to it by his mom. you're just another annoying person who happens to like using some naughty words all the time (him in girl form)

❀ i feel like the way you two get closer is kinda sad but also drama yay. basically mineta was being an S-class pervert and he was literally harassing you.

❀ and it made you uncomfortable so you started to fight back. bakugo doesn't find you until the aftermath, huddled in the corner of the dorm while trying to hide your tears

❀ he didn't know seeing someone cry could make his heart clench like that. But for some reason, seeing you all teary eyed and sad made him want to punch the living daylights out of whoever made you like that

❀ as awkwardly as he can, he tries to comfort you. His large hand patting your back, not saying anything since words have never been his forte. He was used to using anger to battle his sadness, he didn't know how to help someone succumb to it.

❀ you guys sit there in comfortable silence until you explain to bakugo what happened. he'd always hated the little brat but now he was wishing he had uraraka's powers so he could throw mineta into space. how was the creep still in the hero course?

❀ lets just say the nice day mineta looked more like a cranberry than a grape

❀ you guys aren't particularly close after that but he does tend to notice you more which means his respect for you goes up. you're in combat training and you beat deku? fuck yeah he likes you now. even if you don't hate deku like he does he still thought it was awesome seeing you beat the daylights out of him.

❀ the moment he realized he liked you was when he almost lost you. by now hanging out was pretty regular for the two of you, even if bakugo would rather die than admit that he sees you as a friend. and since you guys spent time together he was around for whenever you got crushes...and told him about it.

❀ most of the time he would shrug it off, especially since half of your crushes were fictional and why would he care? he's not jealous! however you started falling for a boy in class 2b which (for some reason) was a major no go for bakugo. why would you want to date a stupid extra when he was right in front of you

❀ despite what everyone says he isn't the most emotionally constipated. it takes awhile yeah but i imagine he started going to therapy during the course of the show so he started to understand what feelings went where and etc

and one thing was for certain: this feeling was love.

❀ he started being a massive asshole after that. he went right back to always arguing with you or ignoring you completely. he might understand his feelings but that doesn't mean he knows how to handle them

❀ he was so wrapped up in his angry emoness that he didn't know you had stopped talking to the boy from class 2b, forgetting him entirely. he also failed to notice the hurt looks you'd give bakugo before you snapped right back into your harsh comebacks.

❀ the reason you guys even talk it out is during a simulation where the both of you get stuck inside rubble. you were both exhausted, dehydrated, and heartbroken.

❀ you just couldn't help but ask, "why do you hate me?" which basically broke his heart into a million little pieces. he couldn't help the way he admitted to his feelings, the way he handed you his heart in hopes you'd keep it safe...and safe you did.

❀ if you two as rivals were bad you two dating is even worse. you guys are the ultimate power couple, able to tear anybody down with a few well placed sneers and snorts.

❀ everybody either loves or hates you guys. mina obviously loves you guys even if you two are constantly arguing still plus with the added of you two tag teaming one person. she loves when she manifests things.

❀ you guys still have that silly banter and with your tempers. but now you guys made up your arguments with kisses and cuddles

❀ you guys aren't allowed to get paired together for assignments because you are either bickering or making out. and aizawa is too tired to try to stop it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Silent Treatment

SUMMARY: How would they react to you giving them the Silent Treatment?

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers (Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WORD COUNT: An average of 540 words per character.

COMMENTS: I remember I had this idea after reading that Mammon had stolen and sold something from MC. MC used STAY on him, but if he did that to me I would be so upset that I would want him to suffer more than that. And I thought about the silent treatment, which would certainly be his worst nightmare. And that's why I thought of making this post. Beel's part is the shortest, but you'll see why.

I hope you enjoy 🤫

CONTEXT: This takes place in the Original timeline and not Nightbringer. So, to make matters worse for them/him, you live with them in the House of Lamentation.

Your argument was probably about Lucifer working too much and you wanting to give him a break. But his stress mixed with pride made him deny this offer in a rather mean and perhaps even disrespectful way.

Does he not want you to bother him? Very well then. What if you never bother him again?

At home, you ignore him. He tries to talk to you, but seeing how stubborn you are he ends up giving up. But this is already bothering him a lot.

At school, if necessary, you will talk to him about importante matters related to RAD as if he were any other student at school. And that's it. Anything else outside of that, you will continue to ignore it.

And that just makes everything worse for him. To have YOU of all people talk to him like he was just any student?! Not only does this hurt his pride, but this small sample of conversation with you makes him miss you more and more. But he will continue to hide it.

The last straw will be at home, when he asks you something directly and you ask one of his brothers to answer for you. Bonus if it's someone from the Anti-Lucifer League. But he must have lasted two or three days without talking to you.

He will lure you to his office, where it all started. Maybe he'll tell you to go get some important papers. You won't see him inside, but as soon as you're close to the desk you'll hear the door closing and locking. And that's when you see him calmly walking down the office stairs to meet you.

“So you decided to give me the silent treatment.” Lucifer says as he walks down the stairs.

“Didn't you want me to leave you alone?” You say, still not looking at him.

“I never said that and you are perfectly aware of that.” He finishes down the stairs and walks over to you. “I just didn't want to rest because I needed to finish that.” You don't answer him again. He already knows what you think about that. Your back is to him and he stops right behind you. “*Sigh* I'm sorry. I know you only want me well. I was just... I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I promise that next time I will consider the break.”

His voice is sad, so you know he was being sincere. But you wanted to see how much he missed you, so you remained silent and with your back turned to him. And he knows you. He knows what you want. He sighs again, more deeply, as if you're making him admit something that hurts his pride.

“Please... I miss you...” You haven't turned around yet. That wasn't enough and it bothers him. You had his desk in front of you.

He rests his hand on the table, leaning on it, and leans in to bring his face closer to yours. “Now you're just teasing me, aren't you?” He was now with that smug on his face. And he sees you give a little smile, which was the sign he understood to move forward. He holds your chin and makes you face him. “You missed me too, didn't you?” he whispers near your lips “You little tease.” And he kisses you passionately and provocatively.

Mammon probably sold something of yours. Or maybe another things of yours. Of course, you hate it when he does that. So you decide to give him the silent treatment, because you know, you know perfectly well that he won't handle it. There is nothing else you can be so sure about as this.

The moment he realizes what you are doing, he collapses. The day wasn't even over yet. In fact, you were on break from classes.

He even gets kicked out of class for constantly trying to talk to you.

You know how much he hates being ignored and being ignored by you breaks his heart into pieces.

He wants to resolve this as quickly as possible, but not in front of his brothers. He waits for you to be alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your door and you ask who it is.

“It's me, the Great Mammon. I got your stuff back. All of them. Open the door and see.”

You decide to open the door, even if it was just out of curiosity and you see Mammon holding so many things that you can barely see his face. You can see your stuff that he sold and some gifts like a teddy bear, chocolates, clothes, accessories, your favourite nerd/geek/otako related stuff, etc... You let him in and put all that on top of your bed.

“I got it all back! But, um, you don't mind if some of them are new right? I also bought you more things. These are your favourite chocolates, right? And you really wanted this plush, didn't you?”

You remain silent, looking at him with your arms crossed. This already happened once and he sold your things again.

“I won't sell your stuff again, I promise. You can hit me with your stay if I ever do it again.”

You turn your back on him and go do something, like homework for example. You went back to ignoring him because he used that excuse before.

“Please hang me upside down like Lucifer, use your stay on me at full power, but please stop ignoring me.” he sounds desperate.

You sit at the table you have in the room behind the bed. Continuing to ignore him. The next scene you see is him kneeling next to you, his head at the same level as your thighs, and looking at you like a puppy with tears starting to come out of his eyes.

“Please. I never thought this was so bad. I can't stand not having you anymore. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. Damn it, I miss you yelling at me.” He places his chin on your thigh, looking at you. “Please, talk to me again~”

You can't take so much cuteness anymore. “Don't sell my stuff again! You hear me, you idiot?!”

His face lights up. "Am I forgiven?"

“Yes, for now you are.”

He gets up and hugs you, showering you with kisses. He won't leave you alone for the rest of the day.

Levi would hardly do anything that deserved the silent treatment. He practically idolizes you, he would never do anything to hurt you. So, something like this would definitely have been an accident.

He had arranged a date with you. But then an Ruri-chan's event came up and he ended up going to it instead of going to you. He got the dates wrong and thought the date with you was the next day.

And he only realized this mistake when the next day he sent you a message asking where you were and if you had forgotten about the date, and you replied that he was the one who forgot that the date had been the day before.

After that, you are bombarded with messages apologizing and saying how much of a complete idiot he is and doesn't deserve you. You don't respond anymore, which leaves him in a dilemma to decide whether to go to you or never see you again because you don't deserve to hear the excuses of someone as pathetic as him.

But he has to do it! He has to apologize to you in person! Even if it means you telling him to his face that you never want to see him again. He would deserve it anyway.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. The moment you open the door, Levi kneels down and places his forehead on the floor.

“I am so sorry! I'm an embarrassment of a partner. I don't even deserve your forgiveness. But I needed to show you my regret.”

Maybe you were already feeling a little bad for him, but you were also curious to know how far your silence could take him. You turned away from the door, gesturing for him to enter your room.

He enters with mixed feelings, on the one hand he was afraid of what you could do if you wanted to punish him. On the other hand... wasn't he kinda into those things?

But no, you just sit on the bed and use your cell phone to send a message to Levi, asking why he missed the date the day before. You still needed to talk to him, but not yet with your voice that he loves so much. When he happily tells you that it was because of Ruri-chan's event, you look even more upset.

“N-N-N-N-NO WAIT! I'm so sorry! Exchanging you for anyone else, even Ruri-chan is unforgivable! I should have warned you. I wanted to tell you, but it was all so short notice.”

You still didn't say anything and even crossed your arms with a sulky expression. He kneels at your feet and gets so close to your legs that he could even hug them.

“I know that what I did was a complete betrayal, and a wretch like me doesn't deserve another opportunity, but please, just let me hear your voice one last time, even if it's to say that you hate me.”

And you finally break. You know he didn't do it out of spite and you've already punished him enough. You know you're practically torturing him at this point.

Regardless of how you say or show that you forgive him, he will praise you, maybe even cry and if you let him hug you, he will cling to you desperately.

Satan was probably on a bad day. A really bad day. That kind of day where anything irritates him, even you trying to calm him down. And he ended up saying what he would regret the moment you left his side: He told you to shut up.

And that's what you did, but for longer than he was expecting. He realized you were giving him the silent treatment when he came up to you to ask if the two of you could talk alone, so he could apologize to you, and you acted like he wasn't there. He was upset at first, but soon after he realized that that was exactly what led to this situation.

He won't try to talk to you in public again. He's prideful too. He'll wait until you two get home, and you are alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. When you open it, you see Satan with a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. Either they're your favourite flowers, or your favourite colour or anything he knows you would like.

“Would you allow me to speak to you, please?” He wasn't angry, he was sorry and you could see it in his eyes.

You don't answer, but you let him into your room. If you pick up the flowers, he'll be a little more relieved. But if not, he'll put them on the table and get a little more worried.

“I'm so sorry. I should never talk to you like that. I regretted my words the moment you walked out the door. I realize what you are doing, you are doing what I asked you to do, and it tears me apart. I'm not mad at what you're doing to me, I deserve it and worse.” He kneels in front of you and bows his head. “But please tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. Because no words can mend the ones I used.”

If those words weren't enough for you and you're feeling like he deserves to "suffer" a little more for the way he treated you, you send him a message (he still doesn't deserve to hear your voice) saying that if he's really sorry about that, he could be your cat butler for a day.

He lifts his head and looks at you, blushing slightly. “With a condition: It will be for your eyes and your eyes alone! No making me go to the kitchen or something while any of my brothers is there!”

And if you agree, he will do it. Any request he will fulfill. If you tell him to end his sentences with "Nya" he will do it, partially embarrassed but partially enjoying it.

And at the end of the day, when you finally let him hear your voice again saying that you forgive him, but that you hope it doesn't happen again, he smiles, kiss your hands like a gentleman and asks permission to hug and kiss you again, after so long.

There's a good chance you decided to do this because you started seeing Asmo with more and more succubuses and incubuses.

Well, if he likes being with them so much instead of you, let's see what happens if you prefer to talk to the other brothers instead of him.

He starts the day with no idea what you've decided to do, so he compliments everyone, especially you. And the moment you don't greet him back he knows something is very wrong.

He cannot, nor does he want to, hide how devastated he already is. Of all the demon brothers he is the one who loves attention the most and not getting it from YOU is the worst thing that could happen to him.

In return, you will have ALL his attention. He won't leave you for a second. He needs to know what happened, even if he has to make a dramatic spectacle at your feet.

He will speak to you in the sweetest of voices, calling you all the affectionate names he knows of, even if he has to do so in other languages. Hon, honey, love, darling, Mon cher, mon amour, mi amor, amore mio...

If you just want to talk to him at the House of Lamentation, you'll have to ask the other brothers to basically be your bodyguards. Which will only make the situation worse for Asmo. And more fun for his brothers.

When you get home you tell one of the brothers to tell Asmo that when you are available to talk to him you will send him a message.

You were alone in your room when you sent the message to Asmo saying that you could "talk" in your room. Not a second had passed when he knocked on your door, almost as if he had been waiting in the hallway that entire time.

He’ll walk in like a happy puppy whose owner has finally opened the door for him. He will try to hug you, but you can't give in. You stray, cross your arms and looks in any direction other than at him.

“Why are you being so mean to me?” he asks in that cute, sad voice. “What could someone as cute as me have done to deserve this?”

To continue guarding your voice until he deserves to hear it, you write and send him a message. In it you talk about the succubuses and incubuses with whom he took a ton of photos and posted a bunch of stories, and it started to be much more than normal.

“Aww, my little sheep is jealous, that's so cute!” You turn your back to him. “HA! NO! Wait! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I thought you knew that you are the one I love the most in all three worlds. I love you almost as much as I love myself. I couldn't say no to my fans. Oh, I know! What if we spend a whole day together? What if we went on a special date? I can prepare everything! I'll reserve a table at your favorite restaurant. I can even buy you new clothes if you want.” You turned back to him, but still didn't say anything. “Pwease, talk to me again~ I'm sowwy~”

If you accept his apology and tell him so with your voice, he will hug you and kiss you al over your face. “Ahhh! I missed you so much~!”

Honestly, I can't imagine a single scenario where Beel would do something that would deserve the silent treatment. He's the type to apologize even if it's not his fault. Even if he ate something of yours, he would apologize in the next second.

So, most likely, you and Belphie were just curious to know how Beel would react. And this would probably happen after you had done this to everyone else but him and his brothers wanted to know how he would react.

At breakfast he greets everyone, but you're the only one who doesn't greet him back. And you already feel horrible because you can feel his sad gaze on you.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" he asks in an already apologetic voice. You still don't answer him, and that hurts so much, poor thing.

The other brothers tell Beel to start eating otherwise everyone will be late. But he says he doesn't want to. And everyone looks at him in amazement, except you. He is looking at you and only you, no one else matters, not even the food.

“Are you angry with me? I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I did this time, but I'm sorry. Did I eat something that was yours?” You still don't respond but you're almost at your breaking point. “(Y/N)?” He says your name in the cutest regretful voice that only he could do and you break down.

You turn to him and hug him, apologizing. You explain that he didn't do anything and explain that everything is fine. If you offer him the rest of your breakfast he will be very happy.

But he will be much closer to you for the rest of the day. It hurt him a lot and he just wants to make sure that everything was really okay. He will really like it if you two cuddle a little when your back home.

What could he do to make you mad at him? *cough* Lesson 16 *cough*. Anyway. There's a good chance he's been a little more selfish lately. Always wanting your free time to be spent with him, and try to convince you to fall into the temptation of laziness and exchange your responsibilities for him.

He needed to learn a lesson. He needed to value you more and realize that you are not a guarantee. Let's see what happens if he no longer has you.

He realizes something is wrong when you don't respond to him.

He tries to convince you to talk to him by being cute. That younger brother cuteness that he always uses against his brothers.

When he realizes that this isn't going to work, he isn't exactly going to give up. He will stop trying to convince you with words, yes. But he won't leave your side. He will be almost like a ghost behind you. At least until you all get home.

You'll have to lose him or convince his brothers to help you if you don't want him to follow you to your room the moment you get to the House of Lamentation.

If you manage to do this, you will be bombarded with messages until you finally respond saying he can come talk to you in your room.

He knocks on your bedroom door like he normally does. As soon as you let him in and close the door he will get extremely close to you, but he won't hug you no matter how much he wants to. He knows that could make the situation worse.

“So, what happened?” he asks close to your ear and in his calm voice. “Why are you upset with me?”

You poke your head in a gesture.

“Do you want me to think? To guess? *Sigh* Fine...” he says pouting sadly. “Um... I know you get upset because I make you late with your work. Sorry. I promise I'll stop being so pushy about that. But, you know I want to be with you.”

That was a good start, but it still wasn't enough for you. You had your back turned to him without speaking.

“You know, it really hurts to see you mad at me like this. I miss you.” and then it hits him. “Oh... that’s it, I miss you. I don’t think anyone likes to be seen as a guarantee, right? I'm sorry, for being so selfish with you. You always try to make me happy by giving in to my whims, I should do the same for you more often... I mean, I will do the same for you more often. I promise.” You turn to him, but still don't say anything. “um... What if... tomorrow, I have to give in to whatever whims you have? But go easy on me, okay?”

You accept the deal, and tell him so. He laughs, saying that he already missed hearing your voice so much. And if you let him, he'll hug you.

“We still have a lot of time until dinner, and I miss your cuddles. You're not going to say you didn't miss me too, right? Come on, just a few minutes. I promise I'll spoil you more than you spoil me, he he.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[anxious-witch]

I apologize for irritable tone of this post, but a portion of this fandom is starting to irritate me, so let's analyze catwin through the lens of how age works for ghosts and how situational irony is used in a scene where Edwin and Niko talk about kissing.

Let's start with age. Right at the beginning, when Emma asks Charles and Edwin to take her case, she tries to play it off as her being just a little girl. This is what Edwin replies:

And before anyone jumps the gun and says: "He said SUPERNATURALLY speaking! He is still physically 16!"

Okay. Let's unpack that. Considering how for people who are immortal, which ghosts essentially are, and as such unchanging, that isn't quite a proper argument, is it? Because the way I see it, there are two ways someone could argue this. Either your gripe is about the Cat King finding Edwin attractive despite him physically being a 16 year old or your gripe is that Edwin is mentally 16 and as such, cannot consent.

If it's the first, I think that argument is quite lacking here, because we know the Cat King is aware Edwin is older than 16. And as someone who is an adult and often gets mistaken for a minor, I think the idea that you can just always tell someone's age by looking at them quite funny. Also, by that logic, I shouldn't be able to consent either, because people generally gauge my age to be between 16-18, when I am in my mid 20s.

If it's the second, your point doesn't work because being frozen at 16 would mean being unable to learn and develop firther than what you did by that age. Which we know is false for ghosts, especially Edwin. He changes and develops constantly throughout the s1, and we have a front row seat to that! Human brains aren't clear cut, and before you jump under the post to say your brain isn't fully develop until age 25, I will kindly tell you that human brains, in fact, never stop changing and developing. And that experiences, traumas, etc hugely impact developments of individuals.

One argument I can sort of is perhaps Edwin and Charles having somewhat stunted emotional growth, but as we also see throughout the season, that has more to do with them stagnanting rather than them being unable to emotionally develop. And frankly, I know bunch of adults with the same issues, so.

Now for the "But Edwin said he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King!" argument. How about we look at what Edwin says before that, huh?

He says he has never been kissed and didnt understand the appeal, until recently. And you cannot tell me it wasn't the Cat King who made him realize it. Yes, he wanted to kiss Charles and I am not saying he didn't like Monty too, but if it wasn't for the Cat King getting physically close to him and playing into his desires, he wouldn't have realized that he too, feel physical attraction!

As for him saying "Absolutely not!" When Niko asks him if he wants to kiss the Cat King, I think that's laughable argument to saying "Well, see, he didn't want him!" Because first of all, characters can lie. Edwin most certain, lies about things he wants, both to himself and others, up until pressed.

Besides, if I am not mistaken, given English isn't my first language and I learned this stuff in a different language, this is also called situational irony, aka, someone say something won't/can't happen and then it happens. This is very often seen in romance plots too. A characters says they hate someone and then they end up dating them.

Think of Lizzy Benett and Darcy

And then she goes ahead and married him later, once her opinion of him changes. It's a classic romance trope!

Similarly, Edwin says he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King and what happens at the end? Oh yeah!

He kisses the Cat King. Shocker.

But yeah just like. Y'all are free to not like the ship for whatever reason, but for the love of god, stop making up stuff that's just blantantly untrue. There is an "anti catwin" tag for a reason, if you truly cannot stop yourself from commenting, but in all honestly, you could just enjoy your own ship without putting other ppl's ships down. Cat King is not perfect by any means, but this isn't a predator type of situation. I and many others have addressed the whole "coercion" bit quite a few times so I won't get into it again, but these two arguments I have seen pop up and I just had to address it. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[mattsfavouritewhore]

Why Her? - Matt Sturniolo

a/n: this is my first fan fic so pls be nice, i made this keeping in mind i might make this a series thing so yes its a bit of a slow burn. Its pretty bad considering it is my first time writing something like this.

Summary: You and Matt have been best friends your whole life, sometimes even more then friends.. so when he gets a girlfriend, you make it your mission to remind him what he's missing.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, protected p in v and oral.. might make this a partly thing.

Matt x Female reader

One of the perks of having a birthday on October 31st is the amazing halloween party's you get to throw. This year, Nick offered to have the party at his place, you, Nick and Chris spent months planning and decorating for the best night of your life, (i mean it is your 21st birthday), as for Matt.. well he had decided to spend his time with his new girlfriend.... Maria. Nick and Chris hated Maria, it was obvious she was clout chasing Matt. She would always ask to be in their videos or post Matt to her social media. They'd only been dating for a few months so obviously Nick and Chris got suspicious when she'd ask so often. You'd never met her personally but anyone who was dating Matt was immediately dead meat to you. But tonight... you were going to meet for the first time.

Nick is currently updating you on the shit talking Maria does behind your back. "I mean she hasn't even met you yet it's all empty threats and boosted egos." You smiled lightly at Nicks comment. "We would much rather prefer it to be you than her." You let out a little giggle. "Let's just get ready to have a goodnight okay. Who knows what will happen tonight." While getting into your costume, you go over your plan in your head: look hot, get drunk, fuck Matt. It was pretty easy, Matt always fell victim to your flirtatious persona, he'd obviously fall for it tonight after seeing you in your corset and mini skirt.

After putting on the finishing touches to your costume, you take a few shots with Nick and not long after people started to arrive, soon enough people were piling through the door in their halloween costumes. Matt had stayed the night at Maria's the night before so he didn't come til a little bit later. Your nerves started to rack up while waiting for him to come so you and a few others did a couple more shots.

"Oh you guys are gonna get fucked up". Chris walked in wearing his Stranger Things inspired costume. "AWWW CHRISSY! YOU LOOK SO CUTE!" As you walk over to Chris you stumble over the floor "woah! looks like someones already a bit tipsy." Just as you look at Chris, Matt walks through the door with his slutty girlfriend. He's dressed up in an extremely attractive cowboy costume, the jeans hug his crotch while the button up flannel shows his chest in the right ways, clinging to his arm... she's obviously dressed as a cowgirl, but the jean shorts give her camel toe and the tied up flannel shows just how uneven her boobs are. You mentally scoff before smiling and walking over to them. "Matt! It's so good to see you" You clumsily walk over to him and hug him in a way that purposely creates tension between his crotch and yours. You back away and look at Maria, throwing her a fake smile. "You must be Maria, it's so nice to meet you" She looks you up and down before throwing a fake smile back "you too... happy birthday" You look back at Matt just in time to see his eyes rake over your figure. "Well you two have fun" Without saying anything else you walk off.

As the night progresses you continue to dance with your friends and enjoying your birthday, every now and then looking at Matt as he looks at you even with Maria by his side. You even made out with a stranger just to get him on edge. The time hits 3am, everyone's sung happy birthday and are slowly starting to leave.. but the house is still more than full with people. You've stopped drinking now but can still feel the alcohol in your system. As you hug some friends goodbye, you see Matt kissing Maria goodbye. You smirk knowing Matt will finally be alone. Matt quickly pushes past you going upstairs and into his room... it was obvious he didn't want to be alone with you, but like hell were you gonna let him get away with that.

"Didn't even say happy birthday to me" you pout as you walk into his room. "You don't need a happy birthday from me, why are you in my room." You can see he's putting up a fight in his head whether or not to make eye contact or not. "I haven't seen you in a while, you don't talk to me anymore." You were serious now. It hurt not talking to Matt. "I have a girlfriend now." You scoff. "So that means you can't talk to me?!" "We don't talk. We fuck. And I don't cheat." He was serious, but you didn't care. You sat on his bed. "Why her." "W-What?" He looks up at you. "Why her. Why not me. I know you better than any other girl, I know how to make you feel good. Why her." He didn't have an answer.

You look at him right in the eye, "What does she have that I don't." He didn't expect that question from you. His eyes opened slightly before returning to his neutral expression. You crawl closer to him "I mean, she's hot.. but I'm hotter." You stop crawling right in between his legs. "You're drunk." You perk yourself right in between his crotch. "I stopped drinking about an hour ago." "Let's get you to Nicks room." "I don't want to be in Nick's room, i want to be in yours." Your hands roam his thighs, his breath hitches as he watches your hands. "Why can't you want me the way I want you?" You were genuinely asking. Before he could answer you place yourself on his lap. "This is wrong" he whispers so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Then why does it feel so good.. No one has to know, just us." You pepper kisses on his neck, his hands subconsciously finding you waist as his head flies back giving you more access. You pull away causing him to look up. "Take my clothes off Matt." Without a second thought his hands fly to the clips on the front of your corset undoing them all within seconds. As he throws your corset on the floor you start unbuttoning his shirt.

Once his shirts completely discarded you look at him, he obviously can't control himself yet you can see he's thinking about how this will affect his relationship. Your hands find their way into his curls. "One more time Matt. That's all i'm asking. That's all I want. And after this.... you don't have to talk to me ever again." He looks up at you, obviously disagreeing with your words but all he says is "okay, once and then never again." A ping of heartbreak hit you, he was willing to never speak to you again. But you push it aside and place your lips on his, slowly grinding against his jeans causing a wet spot to form. He flips you both over and discards your skirt and panties. He starts kissing down your body, in between your thighs, you gasp and grab hold of his hair. "Doesn't matter how many times we end up here, i'll always devour you." His words meant nothing to you now knowing after this, you wouldn't see him again. You push his head in between your thighs and he immediately pushes his tongue through your folds. "Matt omg- fuck" you begin to moan loudly, no one can hear over the music. He laps his tongue through your folds before finding his way to your clit, kissing it passionately, not long after you clench around his tongue.

He moves away abruptly causing you to whimper at the loss of contact. "If this is the last time, i want this to last a while, i need you to cum in me." His words sent shivers down your spine. He moves back on top of you unzipping his jeans. "Condom." He grabs one from his drawer before putting it on and quickly pounding inside you. He was eager. You immediately become a moaning mess, he kisses you to keep you quiet. "Fuck- taking it so - mmm- so well" He continues to pound in and out of you, the bed frame underneath moving with the movements of his hips. "M-Matt, I'm not gonna last" You feel your stomach tightening around him, your walls clenching him. He throws his head to your neck sucking on the skin to quiet himself. Your hands run through his hair, pulling on it lightly. "One last time. One last time." He starts chanting it to get himself off, tears brim your eyes knowing that he's looking forward to this ending more than it happening. "Matt i'm gonna cum" You push your hips into him causing one last enjoyable ride before the both of you cum in unison. He rolls over panting. You quickly put your clothes back on without saying a word. "Where are you going?" "You said one last time, never again." "That doesn't mean you have to leave." You look at him. "You didn't enjoy that. You didn't want it like I did. I'm better off out of your hair anyways." "cmon i did want it. I just.. Maria-" You cut him off "Why her matt?! I was right here! waiting for you. and you... you chose her." He didn't say anything so you left.

You weren't sober enough to drive home so you walked... you'd come back for your car tomorrow.

A/N: I know this is bad.. it's literally my first time writing something like this so I'll take any feedback i cant get lol.

[plush-rabbit]

Foggy Minds

Word Count: 4.7K A/N: I dont know his body!! So I tried to leave it ambiguous and yeah!! i also wrote this just for the ending bit

-

It’s a fucking joke. A cruel one. Angels- or at least Exterminators- are known for their cruelty. Raining down from above, a storm cloud that leaves red behind. Even after the destruction and death, the guts and gore that leave a lasting stench, the cruelty isn’t done. The angel Adam still has to bring torment down to Hell.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what he is. He can pretend he’s higher than the sinners down below, but he’s just as crude, if not more so than the worst of them here. It’s a tradition at this point for both you and him. He brings hell on hell, and a week later, he flies down once more, calling the club that you work at, demanding for you to be sent to the Heaven Embassy. However, as the next Extermination Day comes close, he’s called for your services once again. You wish you could say no, but he pays quite a lot for you, and you could always use the money.. 

You hate the walk there more than anything. It’s like everyone knows you’re off to go fuck the Exorcist. You look both ways before disappearing through the doors of the Embassy. Maybe they think you’re getting a meeting with- someone. 

The Embassy is empty, and every step you take echoes out in the room. You’re terrified. You always are. It never stops feeling like a trap. Even in the elevator on the way to the suite, you can only stare at the golden doors in front of you, your reflection distorted and twisted. 

If you’re going to be honest- you aren’t sure why it’s you who has to come up. It’s Adam- he’s bragged enough about how he can have anyone, and yet, he pays for a sinner’s cunt. You make sure to not feel special, to squash any pride down. Perhaps it’s too tedious to pay for another sinner or hellborn, and it’s best to just get what he knows will be a good fuck. You sigh and look away from your reflection and the glowing numbers. Still, you show up and do your job. You've taken better and worse clients. The angel is just someone in between. 

The doors open and you pass a few doors until you reach his suite. You don’t know why the Embassy has so many rooms, and when you tried to ask Adam, he made a comment about how you could have a fuck-a-thon, doing it in each room, and you sneered at the idea. 

Your suite- or rather his suite- is unlocked like always. You waste no time, stepping into the shimmering room. It’s livable. A kitchenette on one side, a bathroom with a wonderful shower tucked in the room, and a massive bed pushed to the end of the room. The room is bright, golds and blues, a deep dark wood carved into ornate decorations, and you feel out of place. It’s nice- far too nice for you to show up and defile it with what you’re going to do. The room never ceases to amaze you. There aren’t many places in Hell where the colors are bright and soft at the same time, where things look so pristine and untouched. When you once mentioned to Adam how nice the room was, he laughed and told you that there were far better rooms in Heaven. A part of you still wishes that he would have offered to show you- something, pictures, descriptions, anything. 

“Took you long enough!” The angel says, leaning back on the bed. “I pay for your entire time, ya know? From the walk from your whore house to the embassy, the least ya could do is hurry it up. I’m a very important angel, ya know?”

“You ordered me like last-”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want excuses.” His hand waves in the air, and he sits on the bed. “Come on, let’s get to it.” You roll your eyes at him as you walk closer. “Oi! Don’t roll your eyes at me,” his voice is laced with disgust, and you remember that he looks down on you- in more ways than you would care to admit. “Come on, strip.” Your hands go to unzip your skirt. “And make it good!”

You bite your tongue. Your shirt is the first to go. The action is slow, tantalizing as your fingers skim over your bare skin, and your skirt follows suit, pooling on the floor. You step out the fabric, and your heels click on the floor. Adam watches you, his hands scratching the bed covers. You spread your legs over his right, and grab his hands, letting them touch your ribs and then moving towards your back. 

You can feel the tips of his claws scratch at the clip of your bra. You press your cunt over his robe covered thigh, and grind over it softly. “Please, Adam,” you beg. “Take it off for me?” Your hands rest over his chest, and he watches as you grind yourself over him, your hands fisting over his robe, and you wonder for a moment if maybe you did a bad thing- if this was the wrong move. But then your bra straps fall down your shoulders, and it’s discarded somewhere in the room.

You hiss when his mouth suckles on a breast, the other breast being pinched and pulled at. He sucks so softly, letting his tongue roll over the swelling bud, teething at it so you hiss and arch yourself further into him. You can feel a wet spot grow, and you can’t help but rock yourself over your thigh. The other breast is manhandled, twisted and pinched that has you gasping and fisting holy fabric in your sinner hands. 

You're pushed off and his hands claw over your hip. You get the memo, and peel off your underwear, the wetness of it noticeable, and the only mention of it is when Adam pockets your underwear. You wish you bought another pair with you. The heels are tossed aside, and strong hands push you down from your shoulders. You fall onto your knees with a hiss, and you know what you have to do.

-

“And- And- Oh fuck, that’s it, baby-” He hisses, his head tilted back. The hand fisted into your hair tightens, sharp stinging encouraging you to swallow more so he could let go. “I’m just saying that why would you settle for anything less than-” A moan interrupts his monologue and you look at him through glossy eyes. “Oh fuck. It’s like a fucking gift to suck me off.”

A string of spit and pre-ejaculate connects to your lips as you pull away. It’s thick and white, and you’re gasping for hair, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and you push yourself to swallow his package, fitting the pair into your mouth as your hand pumps his length. He’s breathing heavily, and you know he's upset at the loss of contact with your mouth with the way that his hand tangles itself into your hair, but his mask is twisted, and you pop them out of your mouth. Your mouth feels dry despite the excess spit- you suppose it’s the salty taste that lingers. 

You take him back in your mouth, eager, and begging for him to just spill his seed already. Your cheeks hollow, and he’s heavy on your tongue. Your tongue swirls over a vein, and you can feel him twitching.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he hisses, his hands cradling your head. You hum, and brace yourself, your hands holding at his thighs, bracing yourself for him to thrust forward. His hands tighten, and he thrusts into your mouth. You gag around him, your throat constricting around him. It’s a horrid sound, loud and hollow, and acid threatens to bubble over. As he continues to pump himself into you, spit dribbles from the corner of your lips and you’re grateful that you were ordered to remove your clothes. 

“That’s right, take it. Oh fuck, fuck-” a string of curses fills the room, and he’s unrelenting, pushing deeper into your throat. A hand slips to grab at your breast, eyes squinting when you can feel the spit coat over your chest. Your other hand tightens around Adam’s thigh, your nails pinching into him.

Your fingers pinch over your nipple, rolling it over, desperate to take your mind off of the assault of your mouth. His thrusts get deeper and harsher, and he’s still in the back of your throat, holding you down. Curses mutter in the air, sharp and slurring together, and he keeps his eyes on you. The eye contact is far too much, the piercing eyes boring into your entire being, and it must be some type of power play for him. You choose to focus on the base of his cock. With your nose pressed into his pubic bone, you cough around him, and finally he pulls away, his seed laying thick on your tongue. Tears wet your face and mix with your spit and the drops of his seed. 

He grabs your chin and you open your mouth, showing the mess that he’s made. Letting go, you stay still, as he taps his cock on your face. It’s tacky with your spit and leaves you feeling much filthier than you would like to admit. You hold the seed in your mouth and he gives a nod, and you make a show of swallowing, and open your mouth to show him. “Did you want me to do a blessing before you swallow?”  He teases. “With my holy cum, I grant you the opportunity to fuck me.” He chuckles at his joke.

“Thank you, Adam,” you murmur, hoping that the soreness on your jaw will go away.

“You know, you could learn how to relax your throat. You’d think after doing this for a living, your gag reflex wouldn't be a thing.” You send him a dirty look, and his grin widens. “So fucking sensitive. What did you want me to tell you? That you were good?”

You aren’t sure what mood he’s in at the moment. Sometimes you can tell when he wants to fight with you- where he wants to punish you and call you a sinner as he ravages you, but then there are moments when he wants you to beg for him, to tell him how good he is, how you want his cock more than anything. But at the moment with your skull pounding and jaw sore, you spit out a simple, “Fuck you.” His grin widens, and he hoists you up onto the bed. The stickiness on your face ruins the soft comforter, and you feel too dirty to even touch something so nice.

“I was going to be nice and just fuck you, but shit, you had to talk back.” 

A hand grips at your rear, and a finger teases at your hole. You hiss at the contact, and you're glad you’re face down or else you’d never hear the end of it of how flustered you must look. As if reading your mind, he flips you over, your face exposed and your hands immediately cover the lower half. 

“Adam-” you squeal, instinctively trying to close your legs only to have them pried apart. 

“Don’t worry,” he says casually. “I just wanna look at how wet you got just from sucking on me.” A finger traces against your slick and you watch as he tastes the finger. “Damn, I should have let you keep your panties on if I knew you were going to get this wet.” A finger enters and you squirm, suckling the intrusion further into your softness. “You’re soaked. And all you had to do was suck me off. You know, if I could keep you, I would.” He enters another finger, pushing the two inside until he’s at the knuckles. “I’d give you a nice collar, a nice bed, and all you would have to do is be my little cocksleeve.” He pulls out, and thick strings of slick connect his fingers back to your cunt. He returns his fingers to your cunt, now with the addition of a third. It’s a wide stretch, a sharp pain being overridden with pleasure. “I bet you’d like that. You’d live a pampered life, and all you have to do is keep your pussy spread open for me.” 

With a yank, you’re pulled further into the bed. The comforters make a soft noise, but the bed itself doesn’t creak. You watch with half-lidded eyes, focused as he rests on his knees beside you, his cock growing, the scent of it enough to make you go dizzy. You brush your cheek against it, licking at the side of it when he thrusts his fingers into you.

You sit on the bed, his cock pressed against your face, and with a mind too delirious to think of anything else, you pull him into your mind, lazily bobbing his head, as his fingers scissor inside of you. 

You breathe heavily, your mind growing fuzzy with the stimulation. He’s slow and lazy, massaging the inside of your gummy walls as he looks down at you taking his cock once more. A hand brushes your hair away from your face, and you pull away, pecking at his cockhead, nuzzling the glistening head against your lips. It isn’t enough for you, and you swallow him once more, humping into his hand when he gives a smart smack to your cunt. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you scamper to do so. You don’t get a moment to prepare yourself, until he’s bullying himself inside of you. Your hands claw at the comforter, and with watery eyes, you see the fabric tear apart underneath your claws. “You’re clamping down hard around me,” he breathes out, and you buck your hips, trying to feel him deeper into you.

Above you, he's heavy, and selfish, pumping into you relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin is harmonized by your moans. He grunts above you, whispering strings of obscenities and few words of praise linger in the air.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts out, “so fucking good.” His breath is hot against you, fanning out into feathered tickles that touch at your body. He’s never been one for intimacy before reaching his peak, always preferring to be lustful, so you never expect him to actually kiss you, but in moments where he rights just at the right spot, you’d wish he do a little more to make it feel something other that whatever this all is.

His body is pressed against your back, hands squirming underneath to grab at your breasts. His hands are rough and unforgiving, pulling and pinching his nails into your soft skin, You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, puffing and huffing, murmurs about how you feel wrapped around him, and you bury your face into the comforter. Your mouth is slacked open, spit pooling down, as your moan helplessly around him, body taut and nerves feeling as if they’re on fire. 

“No fucking wonder you’re a sinner,” he seethes out, his thrusts harsh and deep, enough to have you see stars and think about how as selfish as he can, he feels so good. “With a pussy this good, I bet you had everyone lined up for just a taste.” You let out a low whine. “Yeah, I bet you did. No wonder you were hired at that sex joint. Did you have to fuck the owner to get in? Ha?” His tone is wicked, and you’re unsure if it’s his words or the fact that you’re so close as to what is making you tear up. His weight above you shifts, and by your hair, you’re yanked back. You yelp and tighten around him, tears slipping down. “I asked you a question.”

“I didn’t-” you yelp as he continues to bully himself inside of you- “I didn’t hear it, ’m sorry,” you mumble, your scalp stinging with pain. 

“Too fucked up on my dick to even think,” he hisses, pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls himself out, and you whimper, shaking your head and pushing yourself closer to him, your cunt weeping for more of him. “A cock hungry slut is all you are, huh?” His cock is pulled out, and he watches you whine, your cunt gaping and leaking slick that makes your thighs glisten. 

“Adam, please,” you moan, turning your head to look over your shoulder. You can feel the drool stick to the side of your lips. 

“Please what?” he spits out, his eyes flickering to yours, before returning to your ruined sex.

You let a whimper, high-pitched and desperate. You fall back to the bed, your eyes looking forward, and your hand slips underneath you, fingers peeking towards your cunt, feeling the warmth drip onto your fingertips. “I want more,” you tell him, your words muffled by the comforter. “I want you,” you tell him, hoping that he’d take pity on you for a moment.

The tip of his cock brushes itself against your opening, and you clench around it, your body aching for more. “Nah, you have to do better than that.” Your cries are shushed, brows furrowed and you’re turned over onto your back, “Come on, I’ve heard you beg before.” Two of his fingers enter you, thrusting in painfully slow. “You know what to say already.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers twisting the bed sheets into spirals. You shake your head, humping pathetically into his hand. “I promise to make ya feel real good.” 

“Adam,” you croak. He pulls his fingers out, and tears gluten over your lashes. “Please, I wanna be fucked.” Your legs tense when you feel the tip of his cock nestle itself inside of you. “I’m just a filthy sinner who needs-” you yelp when he thrusts himself inside of you, the entire lengths filling you nicely- “needs to be fucked by your holy dick.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softy over your skin. 

“A little more, honey, and I’ll ruin that demon pussy for you.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softly over your skin, his voice low and sweet for you.

“Adam,” you plead, your hands curving over your breasts, “I need you,” you whisper in a haze. “I need your cock in me, I wanna cum real bad. I need you. I need you to fuck my sinner pussy.”

He gives you a lazy smile, and gives a nonchalant shrug. “Good enough.” He pushes himself inside of you. Your stomach coils into a heat, and you suck in a harsh breath when his fingers slip to rub at the bundle of nerves between your legs. “You have a fucking grip on my dick. What is it? Are you close?” You let out a broken moan. Your legs kick up, and wrap around him. “If I cum in you, you’re dealing with it.” His grin is sharp and predatory, and it only makes you drag your hands down his arms.

Your hands reach up, and you hold the sides of his neck, your hands curving behind, and you just feel tufts of hair peek from underneath the mask. A hand reaches to grab your wrist, holding it tightly, and you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise afterward. “You fuckin’ slut,” he spits out. “You think just because you got my mask off last time, I’ll let you look at me again?”

“Adam,” you whimper out, scratching at the back of his neck with your free hand, “please. I just wanna look,” you slur out. You know you’ll regret saying those things when you’ve sobered from him, but sex always did make you softer, needier. You think that must be why he decided to continue to hire you- to see you pant for him and stroke his ego. “You’re so pretty, I wanna see,” you lament. “I wanna- I just- I wanna look at you when I cum,” you stumble over your words, your fingertips tapping against the bottom of the mask. The golden eyes narrow at you, and you can only look for so long until you turn your attention elsewhere.

His mask is tossed to the side, and his irises glow. The hand that holds your wrist loosens, and you cup over his cheek, the stubble on his chin scratching at your palm. “Fuck- Oh fuck,” you hiss out, your heart beating against your chest rapidly. “I’m gonna- Oh my- Adam! Fuck,” you hiss, the knot in your stomach tightening, a pressure building more and more until you’re sure that you’ll burst. 

Even as your body shakes, he doesn’t stop. He continues moving his hips, pushing all of himself inside of you, his breath coming out in pants above you, his smile sharp and face flushed. A hand wraps around your neck, and you arch yourself into it, whining and mumbling at how your cunt is still too sensitive, how he has to slow down, but he coos at you, and he tells you how good you’re benign for him, and you hold onto his wrist with your hands. 

Adam places his face close to yours, his lips and breath fanning above yours, and you’re stuck staring at his eyes, unable to look away from the gold in front of you. You lick your lips, and you brush against his. He stares at you, and your face burns. 

He gives shallow thrusts, and is still inside of you, and you can feel him. You can feel the heat, and the stickiness leaks out of you. He keeps himself there, and hides himself into the crook of your neck. After a moment, he slips out, and you can feel the heaviness of his seed weep out of you in slow and heavy drools. 

You lay in the afterglow, chest heaving and sweat and more sticking to your skin. Your body is on pins and needles, and laying on top of the soft bedding, you could fall asleep right then and there. Nestled into a pile of feathers and gold, you could die- again- and be happy with it. 

But then the man- the first man- groans and you remember that this isn't the time to play house. You have a job. Or rather, you had one, and now you have to return. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, and you stare at the bathroom. A part of you wants to take a shower, but you fear that if you even just tasted what luxury is, you’d have to be pried out of the embassy. 

With a sigh, you lift yourself off of the body and gather your clothes. The lack of underwear is something that you frown upon, but when you look back to the angel, with the demand for its return, you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. You’ve walked around without it before when customers got handsy, this is nothing. Your skirt is tight, and long enough that only a pervert would tell. 

“So,” he trails off, lying on his back, “do you wanna cuddle or something?”

Your eyes widen, and as you flatten your skirt, you thin your lips. “Uh, no. No thanks, Adam. I’m uh- I’m good.” You straighten your top, and tap your heels against the floor, the sharp click echoes in the chambers. 

“Whatever,” he huffs, “I was just gonna psych you out anyways.” He waves his hand, and cool air rushes around you. 

You let out a sigh, looking at the mirror where you stared at yourself just a bit ago. Your hands play with your hair, making sure that when you leave, it won’t look like you just slept with someone. You hum, and tilt your head from side to side, trying to find some sort of mark that would have to be hidden. However, the cool air- his own magic or blessing- has fixed any evidence of indecency on you.

“The extermination is next month,” Adam sighs. Your eyes flick up, and you catch him staring at you- golden eyes piercing into your own, unblinking and unbothered. 

“I’m aware,” you tell him, returning to look at yourself in the mirror. You stand straight and let out a sharp sigh. “I think some of the residents are already panicking.”

“Are you?”

Your stomach knots itself, and you remember when you were first bought by Adam- the nervousness, the disgust, the bile burning your throat. It’s all too familiar at this moment. You shrug. “I don’t think it’s set in yet,” you mumble. 

“I’ll come by the night before.” You look at the white tiles- the grout filled with shimmering gold, and the tiles patterned with silver and gold lines. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked like last time.” He doesn’t say the words nicely, it’s more like an afterthought, as if telling you this is a bother, but still, he tells you this, and one thing you've learned about Adam is that he hasn't lied to you yet. You fist the hem of your skirt in your hands, and nod. It’s silent, and then he starts again, annoyance laced into his words. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Adam,” you tell him in a beat. 

“Yeah, well, I can't have my favorite whore die.” His wings unfurl and stretch across the bed. The tips of the feathers reach just beyond the mattress, and you shrug. The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel small compared to him. In the mirror, you can see his reflection, his  mouth thinning, and his eyes narrowing. “I- uh- I still have you for ten more minutes.” You make eye contact with him in the mirror. “Get back here. I wanna suck on your tits.”

You stick your tongue out, and your hips sway as you walk towards him, your heels falling carelessly to the floor as you rest beside him. His hands are cold as they peel off your shirt and without a care, he tosses it to the foot of the grand bed. A hand cups at your breast, and you can feel his breath fan over your chest, and you wait to feel his teeth bite at you, but you never do. The wetness of his lips trace over the swell of your breast, a peck pressed against the bud, but never swallowing it. Your chest is heavy with his weight on top of you, and the hand on your breast unfurls and curves over your ribs. His wings expand, and they partially cover you, the softness of them akin to the finest blanket in what only money can buy. 

Realization as what he’s doing has your body heating, and you worry that he can tell with the way that he’s laid bare on your chest, and yet, he makes no snide comments. This is far more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before. With a harsh swallow, your arm wraps around him, your hand reaching upwards to scratch at the back of his head. Your hands knot into his hair, your nails dully scratching along his scalp. He lets out a low hum in response, nuzzling his cheek over your bare skin in approval. 

With a shaky breath, you break the silence. “You know, I was thinking, that maybe I’d uh, give that Hazbin Hotel a shot.” You feel his hands scratch over your ribs, straight, and piercing, and they cling to you as his breath hitches. “I’m not sure I believe in the whole redemption thing, but free housing is nice.” You feel him nod slowly, and you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger. He gives you a short answer, one that is mumbled into your skin and doesn't make its way to you, and his wings inch further up covering more of your body as he brushes his lips against the swell of your breast. You don’t look at the time even when you feel that he’s grown heavier on your body.

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

summary: in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

comment on this post to be added to the taglist for future parts!

The smell of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, the lighting dim in the dark office. You sat stiffly in a large leather chair, and across from you on the other side of the massive oak desk sat your step father, Boyd Augastine. He was a mean old man, and you had hoped in your time away at boarding school that he had graciously paid for, that he would have calmed down. That hope seemed to be more wishful than anything though, in fact, you thought he seemed meaner than the last time you had seen him at Christmas dinner.

“Boyd, please!” You begged, trying to fight back tears. You hated being home, if you could even call this massive estate that, it made you tense and irate, scared. You shake your head at the man in front of you, trying to remain as polite as you could lest you reap the repercussions. “You can’t make me marry that boy!” You say, tone as even as you could keep it. “Is this even legal?!”

He had at least let you finish speaking. “I can, and you will.” He sniffs, not even bothering to look up at you as he shuffled through some papers sitting in front of him. You assumed they were the documents pertaining to the horrid news you had just been given. “The Tillman boy is a fine young man, he’s strong and not entirely stupid, and his family is almost as powerful as me. You will marry him, and you will produce a male heir to take over both families when the time comes.” He says, finality in his tone and a hint of annoyance that you knew meant that the conversation needed to end before you wound up being hurt. “Lord knows i’m not about to leave my fortune to some half-witted emotional broads. You may not be my blood, but you are legally an Augastine, you will do your part.” You wince. “Unless of course, you’d rather one of the girls marry him when they come of age?”

You purse your lips, trying desperately to bite your tongue. He always knew exactly what to say to get you to do whatever he wanted, and you hated that you had no backbone sometimes. What were you supposed to do though? Your half sisters weren’t even in high school yet, they were mere babies still..they deserved to find their own happiness in life, with someone they actually loved..if you had to marry this boy for a few years and pop out a kid or two for them to be able to live their lives, just to satiate their father, then you would gladly do it. They didn’t need to take your place. Besides, it's not like divorce wasn’t a common thing amongst young married couples anyway.

He knows your answer before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak it and tosses his expensive fountain tipped pen across the desk. It lands with a thud and you pick it up with a trembling hand as he slides the documents towards you as well. “Your mother would be proud.” He says cooly, watching you scrawl your name across every highlighted area that needs signing. You wondered what the Tillman’s were receiving in return for this, they were already fairly well off from what you understood. Pretty much every man in their lineage had been sheriff of the godforsaken county, law ran in their blood, and it paid well too. But who's to say that they weren’t being paid handsomely for this?

You felt as if you had just signed away your soul.

You toss the pen back to him, and give him his stupid papers back before standing and turning on your heel. You didn’t care if you hadn’t been dismissed, you were done. You needed to be alone, you needed to cry. You stride across his large office, and just as your hand touches the brass knob of the heavy door, his voice rings out.

“You’re to be married in two months' time, wedding planning begins tomorrow.” You clench the knob, fighting back the tears. He didn’t deserve to see you cry. “Sleep well, Pearlie.” You swore on your mama’s gravestone that the nickname she had given you dripped with venom when it came from his mouth. Sometimes you wished you could drip actual venom into his mouth, shut him up forever. It was a soothing thought when you were younger, before he had shipped you off to boarding school.

You make your way down the long carpeted hallway to the large wooden staircase, climbing them as quickly as you could. You could hear your sisters, Victoria and Lucy in their room giggling about something that had happened at school, and you smiled as you pressed your ear to the door. You had worried the whole time your mother was pregnant that the girls would be treated just as horribly as you were when your mother wasn’t around, that they would have to hide bruises and emotions and pretend that everything was okay just like you did, but they were his own flesh and blood, his own life force, he could never act such a way towards his own blood. But they weren’t boys, so they also weren’t good enough to take over his fucking business.

You head a little farther down the hall, closing and locking your own door behind you as you slipped into your room, the only place that occasionally felt safe to you when you were here. “I wish you were here, mama.” You whisper to the photo sitting on the dressing table right next to the door.

True to his word, the wedding planning started the next day. You were awoken by your sisters’ nanny early in the morning, her knocking at your bedroom door loud to your pounding head. You had spent the night crying and you were paying for it dearly.

“Miss Pearl,” Her ever pleasant voice calls through the thick wood as you sit up in bed. “Boyd is requesting you downstairs, your betrothed and his father have arrived..” You glance at the clock. It was seven-thirty in the morning. You were used to waking up around this time for school anyway, you had only been home twenty-four hours by this point. “He’s not too pleased this morning,” Her hushed voice comes next and you sigh, leaning your head back into your pillow.

“Thank you, Lorraine,” You say loud enough for her to hear, your thick comforter falling off of you as you sit up. “Tell them I'll be down soon, please..” She doesn’t respond but you hear her footsteps fade away from your door.

You stretch before swinging your legs over the side of your bed, rolling your head from side to side. You knew it was in your best interest to play along with Boyd’s scheme, and he would know if you were half assing or catching an attitude the moment you walked into the room. If you were going to do this, then dammit, you were going to do this right.

Within fifteen minutes you were dressed in a sleeveless white dress that flowed down to your feet, the top of it pushing your breasts up in the illusion of a push-up bra. You had purposely bought this one a size or so too small for that effect while you were still at school, wanting to impress one of the guys you had been previously dating before graduation. You left your hair down to fall around your shoulders, brushing it and using one of your favorite hair serums to run through it with your fingers, leaving a nice smell before you slid on a glossy lip oil and mascara, with a spritz of your favorite perfume to your wrists.

With one last look at the photo of your mom, silently wishing she were here with you to help you through this, you open your door and make your way barefoot down the hallway and stairs.

You hear their voices when you come off the stairs in the middle of the grand hallway on the first floor, floating out of the massive dining room that was hardly ever used. You don’t pause, afraid that if you did it would be all you would need to turn tail and hide in your bedroom forever, and head immediately for the doorway, waltzing in as if you weren’t interrupting their apparently humorous conversation.

You paint a smile on your face as Boyd narrows his eyes at you, a look that you knew meant he wasn’t at all happy with you and you were certainly going to hear about it later. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” You say, kissing his cheek to keep up the appearance of a loving father and daughter relationship, something you had been doing since you were ten. He couldn’t have the world knowing that he despised his late wife’s daughter, could he? You squeeze his shoulder. “The drive up from school must have exhausted me more than i realized, i didn’t mean to sleep in and miss greeting our guests.” You shoot them an award winning smile as well as you smooth out your skirt, taking your seat next to Boyd, but across from the Sheriff and who you assumed was his son.

Boyd hums and you just know that he’s boiling with rage at you, though in your defense, he hadn’t informed you that there would be a breakfast this morning. “You haven’t missed much, we were just talking about your horse actually, and your award from Eventing last season.” Just the topic brought another smile onto your face, a real one this time.

“That was a close one too, we were neck and neck with our second place competitor..” You had spent the majority of the time after the event wondering if Boyd had paid off the judges to put you in first, though you did know that you had put in a lot of training hours with Bubbles, and it had clearly shown. Besides, Boyd didn’t like you nearly enough to pay off the judges just to see you place first in any sport, let alone Equestrian Eventing.

The older man sitting across from you, the Sheriff, smiles what appears to be a genuine smile at you. “You love your horses, I can tell from the way your whole face just lit up like the sun had touched it..” You can’t help the blush on your face, and judging by the look on his sons face as he looked at you, you had just done something right without even knowing it. “You and I already have something in common with each other, perhaps i’ll make time to take a ride with you this weekend..” His sons face completely changed at the mention, you would say it resembled a sort of panic.

“I would love that!” You exclaim, more than pleased to spend any kind of time on your horse, even if it was with your soon to be father in law. He nods at you in return, and nudges his son, as if communicating with him.

Breakfast is served not too much longer after that, and the time is spent with your step father and the Sheriff talking about things you couldn’t even have pretended to care about in that moment, like golf or what the government was doing, while you and the boy across from you shared a couple of glances, staying silent unless spoken to.

You had to admit, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. He wore a black polo shirt underneath of what you could only assume was a bullet proof vest with a velcro patch that said Sheriff across the chest. His hair was slicked back away from his face, and you noticed a tattoo peaking out of one of the short sleeves stretched across his bicep. Oh, he was certainly handsome, but probably not the type to ever be happy with a girl like you..nor did you think you could be happy with him.

You were obviously younger than him at only eighteen (your birthday thankfully just before your wedding date), you had just graduated highschool. You had no job, and your only future now lay with the man in front of you. He didn’t speak too much, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was a naturally quiet person, or if it was because his father and Boyd were obviously the alphas in the room and from what you could gather, weren’t to be bothered until they bothered you first. You didn’t mind that he was older than you, though you guessed he was at least mid twenties if he was already a cop. You kind of liked the thought of being with someone older than you, the boys you had been with at school were all dipshits and childish. You hoped that he wasn’t the same. And if he was, well, at least he was handsome to look at.

The boy, Gator, looked up at you from across the table. You decided that his eyes were hazel, a beautiful color for a decidedly beautiful man. You give him a shy smile from where you sat, raising a mug of your favorite breakfast tea to your lips. You noticed the way he licks his lips, his eyes darting to your mouth and back to his plate once you had set your cup down on its saucer. Well, you thought, at least he’s clearly attracted to me. Maybe our marriage won’t be completely boring..

You had long ago tuned out the droning voices of your step father and your soon to be father in law, using your fork to pick around at the fruit salad you had served yourself for breakfast, adding a little yogurt to it here and there. You couldn’t bring yourself to fully eat, your stomach uneasy the more you thought about your impending marriage. God, how was arranged marriage even still a thing? How was this even fucking legal? You made a mental note to ask Boyd for copies of all of the documents you had signed so you could take them to a lawyer in town somewhere, have them double check that the documents were in fact legal. If there was anything you could do to get out of this, you were willing to do it. 

You’re jolted from your thoughts by Boyd’s voice, and you jump, startled. “Sorry, i was day dreaming..” You say, shaking your head with a small giggle, hoping that he hadn’t been trying to get your attention for too long. You can see Sheriff Roy give a small smile from across the table, another nudge to his son.

Boyd gives you a subtle eye roll as he faces you, and you can tell from his body language that he’s upset with you for zoning out. You were certain to hear an earful about it tonight and that made you nervous. “Roy and I have some business to attend to in my office,” He says, giving a pointed glance to the boy sitting across from you guys. “How about you take Gator on a walk around the grounds? The girls are out getting piano and violin lessons right now, you won’t be bothered for a while.” Is he trying to tell me to fuck this boy? You wondered disgustedly, you knew Boyd was..well, Boyd, but really?

You want to say no, you want to tell him to marry the boy himself if it was that important to him, but you’re afraid of what could possibly happen to you if you do, so you paint another smile on your lips and look over to your husband to be. “I’ll show you my horse!” You say, setting your napkin next to your plate as you stand, walking around the table to lead him out into the foyer. “The barn is a little ways out there,” You say when you notice him following you out of the dining room. “Hope you don’t mind a little walk..”

He follows you silently through the formal living room and into the kitchen, straight back into the mudroom where you bend over to put your well worn boots on. They were brown, and the leather was starting to wear down on them but you didn’t mind, they still got the job done. They were a gift from your mama and you would wear them until they fell apart, and even then you would probably duct tape them back together again.

He’s gentlemanly enough to hold the back door open for you, and you breathe in his scent as you brush past him. He smells good, his cologne floods your scents. Its a woodsy kind of scent, mixed with a little bit of leather, and something a little fruity that you can’t quite name and you wonder what the hell it is as he falls in step next to you as you both walk off of the porch. His hands are slipped into his pockets as you guys walk, a casual look, and you notice that he’s tall too, even in his work boots.

You realize that he’s not going to make the first step to conversation.

When you’re a good enough distance away from the house, out of sight of Boyd’s office, you stop abruptly and turn to face him, the sun beats down on his face even with his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. He stops too, tilting his face down at you, an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. God, you though, he really is handsome.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” He asks, his drawl washing over you. That was the first time he had spoken and good lord his voice could do things to you if this were any other kind of situation, you just knew it. His shoulders are squared, and you realize that now, alone with you, he is the alpha male. You kind of like the vibe that rolls off of him, but it makes you wonder why he cowered when he was in the same room as your guys’ fathers.

You look around, lips pursed and hands on your hips as you thought. “Look,” You start, meeting his gaze under the brim of his hat. “The way I see it, neither of us particularly wants to be in this situation.” He hums in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he listens to what you have to say. “Neither of us are happy, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t at least try to be friends..we’re both stuck doing this, and even though i wasn’t given a choice, I would still like to at least be friends with the person i’m marrying in two months..”

He sniffs and looks around for a moment, and for the first time, you see a smile on his face and you couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. “Alright then,” He says, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Let’s be friends.”

taglist:

@ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a "Hate Club" for my sister? My sister (13) and I (16) have never been close. She is very loud and energetic whereas I am not. She always has been a bit of a jerk sometimes, but recently she has been unbearable to be around. She has been outright mean to our parents, calling them names, screaming at them, throwing things, and doing so every morning when she gets up for school, and every evening when she has to go to sleep. Because of her "screaming schedule", my already bad sleep schedule has been ruined, and I need multiple naps to make it through my day properly because she wakes us up so early. I talked about this to some of my friends who know her, and we decided to make a group chat called "(Sister's name) Hate Club" where we could vent about how she has affected us personally. Sometimes our vents would devolve into mean comments or theorizing about why she's like this, but we never said any of this to her in person, or to anyone outside of our group of 8. However, one night when my mom (63) and I were coming home from a play we had gone to see, she saw a notification for (Sister's name) Hate Club. I had my phone connected to the car's display to play music, so she saw the notification, clear as day. I lied to her at the time, and told her that it was a group chat for stuff in our scout troop, as I didn't feel like explaining what it was on the way home. I thought that she would be mad at me. After I told her, she didn't talk much for the rest of the night. The next day, she confronted me as I was leaving for a doctor's appointment. She said "I don't know if you can tell, but I'm pretty angry at you right now." When I asked her why, she told me the group chat. She started saying how I was a bully, and how I was acting just like my sister does when she's mad. She wouldn't let me get a word in, so I rolled my eyes and left in the middle of her sentence (which I understand was not a good move, but I was already running late and I was angry now too). When I was done at the doctor's appointment, I decided to text her that it was actually a vent group about my sister to try and explain why the group wasn't actually a hate group. When I got home and into my room, she confronted me and we had a big argument. She kept on saying how I was bullying my sister, and apparently she talked to 2 of my friend's moms, saying "If your child made a hate group about someone, would you be mad?". They both responded with some form of "I'd be livid". One of those people got in trouble with their mom and had to write an apology letter to mine once their mom found out what my mom was talking about. In the argument, I told her that "I need a space to vent" and she said "The venting is not the problem, the name is". When I told her "It's just a joke name, because I obviously don't legitimately hate her", she said I was still bullying her. After that I got very defensive and started swearing (not directly at her, but for word emphasis), and she started saying I was disrespecting her now too. At that point I said I would change the name, because I know she's a hard-head and would rather die than admit that she's wrong in any given situation. I've changed the group chat name twice, and now were acting like nothing ever happened. I've talked to my friends that were in the group, and they've said that I'm NTA, but I'm still not sure if they are right or just biased because I'm their friend and they were hearing everything from my perspective. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[hayakawalove]

I'd Wait For You

Summary: Everything is perfect between you and Suguru. It could not get any better. The universe has a funny way of doing things though. How do you cope once Suguru gets taken away from you? Will Suguru be able to move onto the afterlife, or will he stay by your side? A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing angst. Haven't done it too much. Please ignore the inaccuracies of the medicine, it won't be perfect. Comments always appreciated!

CW: SFW, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death (not reader), Grief/Mourning, Afterlife, Depression, Medical, Car Accidents, Sad, Fucked up but honestly not too bad

W/C: 6,584

Suguru hadn’t known love until he first met you. 

Everything that led up to you was somehow minuscule compared to the emotions that coursed through his veins whenever he saw you. He wasn’t aware of how fast a heart could beat, how his lungs could falter from merely being in the presence of another person. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d done to achieve someone like you. We were made for each other, you always told him. In his opinion, he believed he was made for you. Crafted and designed to love you. Not because you needed to have someone like him, but because he needed someone like you. Someone to care for and love.

It was your birthday, and just like he had done every year before this, Suguru was planning on making your dinner. He liked doing it, it made him feel like he was doing something right. It was the least he could do for you, after everything you’ve done for him. He thinks you don’t even know the half of it. 

“Shit.” Suguru murmurs under his breath as he searches the freezer. He could have sworn he bought the meat for tonight, but it was nowhere to be found. 

“Did you find it yet?” He hears your voice call from the couch. 

He doesn’t really have the heart to tell you that no, he hadn’t found it. His lip twitches as he pushes aside all the useless ingredients, looking in places he had already checked three times over. 

Suguru is so focused on the fridge in front of him that he doesn’t even hear your feet padding into the kitchen. 

Tender hands wrap around him from behind, yanking him from his despair. When he looks over his shoulder he sees you behind him, peeking over with curious eyes. 

“I'm sorry baby.” He speaks quietly, turning around to the fridge again. 

He shuts the freezer and faces you, taking you into his arms. It’s nice like this, having you pushed up against him. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you. 

“What’re you sorry for?” You ask. 

You reach your hands up and place a palm on either side of his face. Your mouth drops open as you hold him. 

“Suguru, you’re freezing.” You scold. “How long were you looking in there?” 

He hadn’t realized how cold he was until your warm fingers pressed into his cheek. He nuzzles against you and allows his lids to flutter closed, indulging in the warmth you provide. 

“Only a little bit.” He says. He would rather die than tell you he’s been here for ten minutes. 

“No luck though, huh?” You don’t seem sad when you ask this, and Suguru can’t figure out why. 

He feels like he ruined your birthday. 

“Unfortunately no, but I’m gonna go head down to the store to pick it up. I shouldn’t be gone long.” 

“I don’t want you to go, though!” 

You have an exaggerated frown playing on your lips as you tug his arm. 

“Baby, you need food. I promise it’ll be-“ 

“Why don’t we go out to eat?” You propose. 

He’s looking at you with raised brows, watching partly in amusement. It wasn’t an awful idea, but he much rather preferred to cook for you himself. It was like a gift that way, although he bought you plenty of those too. He nearly felt giddy at the idea of how you would react to each present, all hiding in various places around the house. You always told him he didn't have to get you anything, so he had to get creative in his hiding spots.

“What, you hate my cooking?” He jokes, pulling back to straighten your clothes. 

At first you would snap at him when he mindlessly groomed you like this, but you had gotten used to it. It was just another avenue for him to show his love, fixing your attire like a mother would.

“Ugh, it’s the worst!” You joke back. 

Both of you were well aware of how much you loved his cooking. 

“A shame.” He murmurs. 

“We never go out, it’s been ages since we’ve gone somewhere nice. Don’t you think it would be fun? That way, you wouldn’t have to slave over the stove for me.” 

“But what if I want to slave over the stove for you?” 

“There will always be another time.” You squeeze his arm. 

You’re right. He can always do it for you for your next birthday. 

“If you say so.” Suguru presses his lips against yours. 

~~~

It’s a chilly night, the black sky above you providing no heat as you head out of the restaurant. You’re cradling your stomach as if you were 8 months pregnant, while one of your arms is wrapped around his. You’re chattering his ears off, but Suguru doesn’t mind. The night felt perfect, he wasn’t sure how it could get any better. 

The two of you are making your way to your parked car, not in a rush. You have all the time in the world. You’re strumming his hand as you talk, only letting go when he pulls your door open for you.

Suguru crosses the car and slides into the driver's seat, not backing out until your seat belt is on. The drive is calming, your windows rolled down to let in the night air as you quietly sing along to the radio.

“Was it a good birthday?” Suguru asks, tossing a look your way before focusing on the road. 

“It was perfect.” You promise, your eyes twinkling.

Suguru starts to think about which gift he wants you to open first.

“Hey Suguru?” You ask.

“Yeah?” Suguru looks up from the wheel to see your face. 

Your brows are furrowed together as you look forward. Something wasn’t right.

“What is that guy doing?” You speak quietly.

Suguru turns his head forward, his foot on the brake as the car sits at a red light. There’s another car in front of you, driving towards you. He isn’t slowing down for the light, and Suguru can feel his pulse pick up. 

“I don’t-“ Suguru starts. 

The driver presses on the gas even harder, his car jerking, now hurdling in your direction. Suguru only has half a second to throw his arm across your front, shoulder covering part of your body.

…

Love makes you do crazy things. 

Love can make you feel unstoppable. 

Love can make you cover your partner in a car accident without a second thought. 

The movies never get it right, Suguru thinks. People always talk about the pain, how much it hurts. But Suguru doesn’t feel pain. He doesn’t feel anything. He wishes it was more accurate, that way he could have been prepared. 

It was loud, so loud. 

Metal on metal, tires screeching. It also smelled. Gas, fire, and burning something. Was it plastic? He had never smelled something so atrocious. Suguru turns his head to locate you and sees you motionless, your beautiful lids fluttered shut. Is that blood? Something’s reflecting on your forehead and he hopes to god it’s not blood. 

He attempts to say your name, but nothing comes out. It’s as if his voice box has been completely removed, leaving a gaping hole in his throat. His fingers twitch as he tries to move to help you. 

Move, move. 

He’s begging his useless body to do something, anything. It’s never cooperated with him, lest of all when he needs it most. 

Suguru thinks he hears yelling. Was that a woman? It’s a voice he’s never heard before, and she’s saying something he can’t quite decipher. His head is spinning as he tries to focus on the voice, but it isn't easy. It's all becoming overwhelming, each of his senses being amplified. The sight and sound alone was enough to leave him breathless.

Red lights. 

Cops. 

No, not cops. 

An ambulance. 

He hopes it’s an ambulance. You really needed one.

Suguru tries to focus as he strains his ears to listen for your breathing. He could feel his eyelids get heavier and heavier, his sheer willpower being the only thing keeping him awake. There’s more tires screeching and the ambulance has arrived, heavy footfalls running to your car. 

Good.

Good.

Help is here.

It would all be alright. 

Everything would be fine.

~~~

When his eyes open, he sees white. He must have been in a hospital, the clinical setting surrounding him. No one was in his room. Not even you. You were in worse shape from what he remembers, so he understands. 

He isn’t in as much pain as he would’ve expected from being in a car accident, but he’s glad. Suguru looks down and wiggles his fingers, then his toes. Good. He isn’t missing anything. He knows you would’ve taken care of him if he was missing something, but he would rather soon die than make you do something like that. 

Suguru sits up and notices he isn’t attached to any monitors, which is odd. He figures he probably didn’t need them though, so he quickly pushes the thought aside. He might as well look for you since he was able. You could have been really hurt, and he wouldn’t have been able to rest until he learned where you were. 

The hospitals halls are a scary place, even for Suguru. He knows many great things happen in hospitals, but there’s also a lot of tragedy too. He tries not to think about all the death as he walks down the halls. There are nurses and doctors pushing past him, paying him no mind. They were busy. He could see it in their droopy eyes as they locate room numbers and run to codings. 

He finds the nurses station and speaks up, finding two women sitting at the desks. 

“Excuse me?” He says. 

Nothing. 

Weird. 

“Uh, I’m looking for someone.” 

Suguru says your name, but neither of them turn to him. 

Okay, maybe they were too engrossed in their conversation. 

His eyes flick down where he sees a chart, and at the very top of the list was your name. Room A93. That wasn’t too far from here. 

He spares them one last glance before turning around to locate your room. His heart flutters (not in the good way) when he gets closer to the door. Could he handle seeing you hooked up to a million monitors? Could he handle seeing other people take care of you? Suguru pushes through it. He needs to see you. He comes to a stop outside your room and hears voices coming from inside, talking to you. 

“And where is Suguru?” He picks up on your voice, the sound instantly warming his heart. 

“He’s… not in good shape.” 

He wasn’t? 

He felt great. 

Suguru pokes his head around the door and finds a tall woman with tanned skin and long dark hair. She must be the doctor. 

“What do you mean?” You ask.

The doctor straightens, tired eyes looking up at you. 

“He was intubated, he lost a lot of blood and sustained a head injury. My team had to put him in a medically induced coma. I actually was coming here to talk to you about whether or not he wanted to be on life support.” 

What? 

“I'm sorry, what are you talking about?” Your body is turned towards her, anticipation leaking from your pores.

“You’re married, aren’t you? I trust that the two of you have gone over it?” 

You haven't looked his way, not even once. 

“Let me see him.” You’re sitting up, wobbling as your frail body attempts to hold you up. 

You don’t see him right now? 

“I'm not sure that’s a good idea.” The doctor comments, her voice heavy as if she knows something you don’t. 

“Please.” 

The doctor softly sighs and dips her head once, acknowledging your desperation. She relents, aiding you in getting up. You can’t do it on the first try, your face wincing in pain as you ease yourself off the bed. The doctor is patient as she helps you, because of course she is.

Suguru follows you to his room, throat dry as he stares at the IV stand in your hands. What was happening? 

“Suguru?” His heart shatters at the way your voice cracks. 

He turns the door and comes to a halt behind you, looking over your shoulder. He was looking at himself. His motionless body was laying in the hospital bed, looking more helpless than he had ever felt in his whole life. 

“What happened?” You ask, your eyes never leaving his bed.

“There was an accident. I was told that he took the brunt of the crash to cover you. He’s not…” The doctor looks anxiously between you and him. “I don’t think he’s going to make it.” 

The room is quiet, eerily so as you process the news the doctor gave you. There’s a steady beeping sound coming from behind his body, the only sign of life. By all accounts, he looked dead. Suguru flicks his eyes up and notices a brain monitor attached to him, but the line was flat. How was that possible? Was he in some space between life and death right now? 

You rip the IV from your arm and run up to the bed, collapsing beside his body. Suguru can see blood begin to pool from your forearm, dark red trickling down your wrist as you force yourself against his bed.

“Suguru! Wake up!” You’re shaking his body, voice trembling and loud as tears begin to fall from your eyes. 

He doesn’t wake up. His useless body doesn’t even flinch.

“You asshole! Wake up!” You’re in hysterics as you shake him, and Suguru feels himself choke on a tear. 

“We need to discuss-“ The doctor starts.

“Don’t do this to me! You gotta wake up!” 

Suguru is beside you now, standing above your crumbled form. You’ve never looked so small before. Your tears are staining the sheets beside his body as you hold his hand, your other arm clawing at his chest. Suguru can’t tell which hurts more, watching himself or looking at you. 

He needs to comfort you. 

He needs to make you smile. 

But he can’t. He can’t do anything. Suguru is forced to stand by your side as you cry until you lose your voice, until all of your words blur together and no one can understand what you’re saying. 

The doctor stays with you the entire time, remaining quiet as you sob. She wanted to comfort you, but she also needed an answer. And the truth of the matter was, Suguru never wanted to be on life support. It was a discussion you had early on in your marriage. He didn't want to be a burden. You respected his decision at the time, never in a million years thinking you would have to uphold his choice.

~~~

It’s raining the day they pull the plug on Suguru. He always did like the rain. It made for perfect nights in with a warm drink and his favorite book. Obviously with you by his side. That’s not what he’s thinking about when he sees the sky the day he dies. All he can think about is how your tears match the droplets, how god must be crying for you. He hated it. You said it was fitting. It was one of the only things you said on that day.

Suguru watches as his body gets whisked away, he told himself he couldn’t watch the embalming process, but when it happens he can’t look away. It felt unreal. His body was cold to the touch, pale as it lay on the metal table. He didn't look real. He watches with curious eyes as they pump him full of fluids in an attempt to immortalize his youth and beauty. He overhears the morticians talking. Not even thirty years old, they mumble. All Suguru can think about is how you weren’t even thirty. The word ‘widow’ was meant for older people whose partners died in natural circumstances, not for someone like yourself. Plump cheeks and a full life ahead of you.

It’s sunny when his funeral is held. He’s glad for that, he dreaded the idea of you waiting out in the cold. You sit in the front with Satoru. Suguru expected you to be a wreck, you were at the hospital after all. But you aren’t. You sit quietly as each person speaks, your chin tucked into your chest. Your eyes are glassy as you listen. You were checked out. He wanted to take a peek into your brain to see what memory you were reliving. Was it the time you both vacationed in the Bahamas? Or was it when you talked for hours about your favorite book? Those were his favorite memories, but he didn't know yours. He never thought to ask before. Now he wouldn’t have the chance to.

You refuse to let anyone help you make it home, I’m fine you said. You weren’t fine. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. All the people surrounding you tried to offer words of comfort, promises to help falling from their lips. You wave them off as you set off down the sidewalk towards your apartment. You hadn’t been in a car since the incident.

The second you close your front door you collapse onto your floor, your knees hitting the ground with a hard thud. You let out the most ear piercing wail. Suguru didn’t know people were capable of making noises like that. He didn’t have a body anymore, but he swore he felt chills creep over his skin. 

You keep screaming, and screaming, and screaming. Suguru hears a loud pounding and turns his head to the door. Someone was here. The pounding resumes and he hears his best friend call out, trying to get your attention. You aren’t listening. You don’t care about anything outside these four walls. 

Satoru twists the knob hoping by some miracle it would unlock. Unfortunately, you had the foresight to lock the door before falling to pieces. Satoru relents in using the knob and tries bumping the door with his shoulder. It takes him a couple of tries before it splinters open. He's out of breath as he looks down at your figure. Your crumpled figure. 

Leave it to Satoru to follow you to ensure you got home safely. Suguru tells himself to repay Satoru, buy him that soda he likes, but then he remembers. He will never be able to repay him for anything again. 

He hopes a token of his gratitude is enough. 

You don’t register that Satoru is even there until he’s kneeling beside you, holding your body close to his. You thrash a bit, shoving him back but he doesn’t budge. Satoru takes it all, even though it hurts. 

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” He murmurs quietly to you. 

“He's gone! He's gone!” You’re heaving into the air, letting him rock you back and forth. 

“I know. I know.” 

“He's never coming back, Satoru!” 

You breathe in deeply, your chest sore from the meltdown. 

“Bring him back! Please, please Satoru!” 

Satoru grits his jaw as he holds you tight. It must be hard. Suguru mourns the loss of himself through you. He can feel the pain you’re in, it feels like a forest fire as it claws into him. 

You’re scratching at Satoru, as if you could dig your way back to Suguru.

Suguru has never felt so helpless before. How do you help someone when they’re mourning the loss of the love of their life? How do you console them when they will never see them again? How could he make you feel better? 

He can’t do anything. He's an outsider in his own home, watching the people who were closest to him.

Satoru grips you as you sob, occasionally rocking your frame back and forth. He doesn’t say anything. There really isn't anything to say. The living room quiets down as your screaming becomes sniffling. Suguru doesn’t know how much time has passed. Satoru refuses to let go until he feels your breathing slow down, your body going limp in his hold. 

Satoru never leaves. He just sets you on your bed before making his way to the couch. He looks just as fucked up as you do. Suguru doesn’t think he’s ever seen his friend in such a bad state before. Eyes that had previously been so bright were now dull, his lips tugged down into a deep frown. Satoru slides onto the couch, his eyes shutting the second he makes contact. 

Suguru takes turns watching the two of you sleep. It breaks his heart. Never again will he feel the warmth of your sleeping figure beside him. Never again will he wake up before you to start your breakfast. 

Things are awkward between you and Satoru in the morning. Neither of you know how to approach the subject. 

Satoru is the first to talk. He always was the talker. 

“Good morning.” 

Your eyes flick to him, almost as if you were expecting him to stay the night. Satoru looks uncomfortable, which is a first. 

“I uh, I'm gonna pick up breakfast. Do you want anything?” He goes on.

A moment passes before you speak. When your voice comes out it's brittle, harsh in a way Suguru has never heard before. 

“I'm fine.” 

The hours of screaming must have caught up to you. 

“Yeah, alright.”

Satoru is scratching the back of his neck, a tell that Suguru learned years ago. He has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it. 

“I really think you should eat something.”

“Satoru.” 

Satoru steps back as if the tone of your voice wounded him. 

“Okay. I’ll back off. I’ll bring back something for you to drink at least.” 

Satoru doesn’t ask so you don’t have the chance to deny him. You watch as he exits your apartment, your gaze fixed on your broken door.

Satoru calls repairmen to handle the door while he’s out. It doesn’t take them long at all to fix the damage he dulled out the prior night. 

When Satoru comes back he has two drinks and two bags in his hands. He bought something for you to eat in the end. Satoru rings the doorbell and waits for you. 

You never come. 

He knows you’re home, because where else would you be? 

He stands there for thirty minutes before he takes the hint that you don’t want to be seen. 

Suguru wishes he could curl up in on himself at the sight of his best friend looking so dejected as he leaves. Satoru was making an effort. Suguru doesn’t blame you though. He never could. If he was in your position, Suguru wouldn’t stop until the whole world around him was burned to the ground, he wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left.

Satoru comes back hours later to drop off dinner and notices that the bag of breakfast he left for you is still in the same place. You hadn’t touched it. He leaves dinner for you as well, hoping by some chance that you’ll actually eat something.

~~~

Satoru stands at your door, a bag in his hands as he tries to keep up a smile. Suguru can tell it’s a hard task, he’s always been able to look right through his best friend. 

It had been two weeks since the funeral, and Satoru has stopped by every single day.

Satoru says your name again, rocking back on his heels. He’s been here for two hours. Suguru knows because he’s seen him check his phone five times. One of your neighbors comes out and greets Satoru, smiling once he gives her attention. The two had been acquainted because he had visited so often. Satoru didn’t mean to seduce the older woman, but it just came with the territory of being a beautiful man. 

“Hey Ms. Nakamoto!”

“Hello sweetie.” 

“I brought you something.” Satoru searches the bag he’s holding and produces a wrapped piece of chocolate. 

Suguru knows Satoru didn’t bring it for her, but that he couldn't bear the thought of not giving her something.

“You’re so kind, Satoru.” Ms. Nakamoto squeezes Satoru’s shoulder before walking off, popping the chocolate in her mouth. 

Satoru watches her leave with a smile plastered on his face. It feels genuine in the same way a waitress's smile is genuine when she’s working.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Satoru calls, resting his shoulder against the door.

You’re standing on the other side of the door, staring into the wood as if you’d be able to see Satoru if you look hard enough. 

Suguru doesn’t understand why would don’t want to see Satoru. 

He wonders if it’s because Satoru reminds you of him. Suguru would understand, the two have always been inseparable. It was never that way for you, though. You never saw Satoru and thought of Suguru in the past. It was one of the many things he liked about you. He felt like he could be his own person around you. He wonders if the lines are blurred now that he was gone.

“I know you’re there.” Satoru says, leaning against his forearm. 

“Why won’t you let me in?” He waits for a moment until you respond. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“I brought snacks.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Suguru’s heart breaks. You look like a mess, your hair was piled on top of your head and you were wearing the same clothes you had been wearing yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It was one of Suguru’s shirts, the clothing wrapped around your body as if it was a cocoon. You had been wearing it for so long that the smell of his cologne was starting to fade away. You cried for four hours the night you realized.

Neither of you talk or move for that matter, intent on waiting it out to see who would break first. You have something on your mind, Suguru can tell you’re holding back. 

“Why did he do it?” You ask, your voice muffled through the door. 

You know Suguru as much as Satoru does, but Suguru supposes there’s a sense of relief from the company. 

“You know why he did it. He loved you.” Satoru responds, his voice more level than Suguru had ever heard it. 

“He wouldn’t have been able to stand himself if he didn’t save you.” Satoru finishes. 

You and Satoru both turn around and slide your backs against the door till your butts hit the floor. 

You’re separated by a piece of wood, yet it feels like you’re miles away. Even though you felt so far apart, the two of you were the only ones on the planet who understood each other. 

“He’s selfish.” You say, and Suguru thinks you mean to have a bite to it, but it comes off much more heartbroken. 

“What makes him selfish?” 

“He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he let me die, so he’s making me live without him instead. Why didn’t he care that it would hurt me?” You question.

Satoru’s silent as he listens. He’s good at that, although he talks a lot. Suguru is glad you have someone to talk to who listens when you need it.

“I think he did care.” Satoru says, looking at his legs. “He just loved you too much to stop himself.”

“It was my fault, you know.” You start. 

“I was the one who suggested going out.”

Satoru is silent as he listens and Suguru feels like he’s been shot. You were blaming yourself? If Suguru could talk to you, he would reassure you that you had nothing to do with what happened. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Satoru says, unsure of how else to comfort you. 

Nothing he could say would take the pain away, he was aware of that much. 

Suguru is on your side of the door, watching as your lip starts to tremble. You must be sick of being alone. You slowly stand up and reach for the door, opening it much to Satoru’s surprise. He nearly falls back before hopping to his feet, facing you.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, knowing the answer.

~~~

Ever since the night you let Satoru in, you welcome him in. Suguru thinks it's nice, watching the two of you talk. He’s glad you’re opening up to someone. It’s not good to keep it all in, and Suguru couldn’t stand the idea of you shutting down completely. 

In the beginning, Satoru would sit on the furthest end of the couch, but over time he slowly inched closer until the two of you were sitting next to each other. It didn't matter what you talked about. It was always different. Usually it was about Suguru. 

“He waited until the sun set and it was dark out. I didn't really understand why. Anyway, he got on one knee and when I turned around he had the ring out.”

“It was because of the people I’m sure. Suguru was a private guy.” 

You’re picking at a loose thread on the couch, quietly listening to Satoru. 

“I helped him pick out the ring, you know. He was so indecisive. There were two options we narrowed it down to, he ended up asking all your friends what they thought you would like more.” 

Suguru sees your shoulders shake and he thinks for a second you’re crying, but when you lift your head up he sees a tiny grin on your face. 

“He’s ridiculous. Would’ve loved anything he got.” 

“I know. He only wanted the best, though.”

Suguru loves to listen to the two of you talk, but he loves the silence you share just as much. Satoru always used to dread silence. Suguru thinks you’re bringing him down to earth. It’s nice. Suguru didn't think it was possible. 

“It’s hard. I can't sleep.” You confess to Satoru late at night.

“Why is that?” Satoru asks, but you know he knows the answer. 

“It’s impossible without him.” 

You aren’t aware, but Suguru is there each time you lay down. Sometimes he’ll lay beside you, but he rarely does. You always get a chill when he tries, so instead he sits across the room, listening to your breathing. He’s always loved the sound, but he finds he appreciates it more so now. 

“If you ever need company, I could spend the night on the couch again.” 

“Really?” 

You’re trying not to sound eager, Suguru can tell. He grins to himself as he watches your face light up. 

“I'd just have to bring over spare clothes, but I can.” 

People on the outside may think that something was blossoming between you and Satoru, but Suguru knew better. Satoru would never cross that line. At times, Suguru almost wished he would. He wanted you to find happiness again. And truly, who better to give it than Satoru? The two were so alike that Suguru knew you would be happy. But you wouldn’t do that to Satoru. You wouldn’t want him to feel like a placeholder. Suguru doesn’t know how Satoru feels, but he knows how you feel enough to be positive that nothing was starting between you. 

Satoru sleeps on your couch that night. Suguru notices it’s the first time you’ve slept through the entire night in weeks. You don’t wake up even once, not even when Suguru slides into bed beside you. 

Suguru keeps his eyes on you the whole night, mesmerized by the features on your face. You were so beautiful. He should’ve told you more often. 

~~~

It was going okay. Suguru thought you were healing. One night you have a terrible nightmare. He watches you in horror as you thrash and scream, wishing he could reach out to touch you.��

“Help! Help!”

Satoru is in your room moments later, holding your body against his. You twitch in his hold, body shaking in fear. Your eyes flutter open and you have to hold onto Satoru for several moments before you understand where you are. 

“It was just a dream.” Satoru speaks quietly to you.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks once you understand what’s happening. You have a tight grip on Satoru’s arms, as if they could keep you from floating away. 

“I was- Suguru, he, we needed,” 

“It was just a dream.” Satoru says once more.

It wasn’t a dream, not really. It was the accident. The scenes were flashing in your brain, plaguing you with memories. Suguru wishes it was a dream. The worst was already over, only now you were left trying to pick up the pieces.

Satoru sleeps on your floor each night afterward. Always beside the bed, ready in case you have another nightmare. No matter what, he never leaves. 

Each time you had a nightmare, Satoru would reach his hand up and squeeze yours, reminding you that the worst part was over. He pretends not to see the scars your fingernails leave in his skin.

~~~

Suguru watches as you experience life. Finding your first gray hair, he was even there when you bought your first new car. They were all things he should have been experiencing with you, if only he was alive. 

If you asked Suguru the day he died if he regretted his decision to cover you in the accident, he would say no in an instant. It was the same now, all these years later. 

You never move on from him, not really at least. There were men that passed through your life, but you never marry again. 

Suguru wanted you to find love again, but you were always more stubborn than he knew what to do with.

And when the time came for you to pass, he was there too. The hospital room didn't feel the same as his did, yours was much more warm and happy. That was what it was supposed to be like when you lived a full life. All of your loved ones gathered around you, crying as they held you. You don’t cry. You’re ready. You’ve been preparing for it for a while now. You have weathered skin and a full heart. You have smile lines now, and Suguru thinks you’ve never looked more perfect. 

Suguru stands by the door, watching as everyone says their goodbyes. He feels tears begin to drip from his eyes. He knows it only means he gets to see you sooner, but he’s mourning your death just as much as he would if he was alive. He wanted you to continue living. You still had so much to experience, Suguru wanted you to have it all. 

The last member of your family leaves the room, but you have one visitor left. The doctor smiles at the visitor before pulling the door closed behind the two of you, giving you privacy. 

“Thank you, darling.” Satoru says, smiling at her. 

The door shuts and Satoru is hobbling over to you, lowering himself down next to your bed. He's in relatively good condition for someone of his age. 

“Hello.” He squeezes your hand, if Suguru looks close enough he can still see the crescent shaped marks caused by your nails on his hands. 

Scars proving your love of Suguru on another man’s body. 

“You’re here.” You speak.

“Of course I’m here.” 

The room is silent as Satoru takes in your presence. The air is heavy, partly from sadness, but also from the memories and love everyone had left you with. You had lived a long life. 

“Are you excited to see him?” Satoru asks. 

You look down and fiddle with your ring, the same ring Suguru had picked out all those years ago. 

“I am.” 

“When you see him tell him I said hi.” Satoru could say much more than that, maybe even a joke from his childhood, but more than anything he just missed his friend.

“I will, I swear.” 

“I can’t believe the two of you are going before me.” Satoru’s messing with you now, Suguru walks closer so he can catch the glint in Satoru’s eyes. 

“Don’t you worry, your time is coming.” You chuckle to yourself. 

“Is that a threat?” Satoru leans in close to you, the act intimate in a way that only appears between friends that have endured years of life together.

“Maybe. I think I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.” You tease.

“I hope you do.” Satoru’s tone is heavier as he speaks, a nugget of honesty leaking through. 

“Thank you for being so good to me Satoru, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as you were there for me.” Regret is dripping from your words.

“I know you’re dying, but have you gone senile? You helped me as much as I helped you.” Satoru looks at you in disbelief. 

It was true. You had helped Satoru. It wasn’t in the same way he helped you, but instead you provided him multiple chances to relive his childhood. That was worth more than anything in the world to Satoru.

Satoru rubs his thumb along your hand. He sits with you through the silence. He's there with you as the doctor comes back in, voice soft as she asks you if you’re ready. You are, you have been for a long time. Satoru holds your hand, he doesn’t leave as the doctor turns off all the technology that’s assisting you in staying alive. 

Suguru would stay, but he has a date he can’t miss.

When you die, everything is empty around you. Your old body is inching by, walking aimlessly. 

“Sweetheart.” A voice like velvet fills your ears.

You whip around, jaw and eyes wide open as you come face to face with the love of your life. 

“Suguru!” You cry. 

Suguru’s smile is relaxed on his face as he walks up to you, embracing you once more. He could finally touch you. He had been dreaming of this moment for years. 

The second his skin hits yours, it's like a ripple effect. Your skin slowly rejuvenates, your body regressing until it resembles what it looked like the night he died. You were young again. 

Suguru holds you for what feels like eternity before you pull away. He tries not to frown, reminding himself that he can touch you again whenever he feels like it now. 

“I missed you!” Your lash line is holding on a thin thread, tears welling up, nearly pouring out. 

Suguru doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t think he can put into words how much he missed you. 

“Oh, and Satoru said-“

“Hi, I know. I heard him.” Suguru reaches a hand up and skims your cheek with his thumb.

He no longer feels cold.

“You heard him? You were there?”

“Of course I was. I always was.” 

Suguru chuckles to himself at the expression on your face. It's a shock, for sure. You had no reason to believe he stayed with you. Suguru could have moved on at any point in time, but he wouldn’t. Not without you by his side.

“I love you.” He says it the same way he used to say it, and you finally break down. 

Tears stream down your face as you pull him in for a kiss. 

“Come on, let’s make up for all the lost time.” Suguru murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arm around yours.

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

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[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

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

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he���s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[cartierre]

AMOUR ROSE | cl16

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU charles leclerc x fem!reader (fc: pasabist on ig)

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 293,094 others

yourusername filling up my vitamin d tank in portugal ❦

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user1 someone explain to me how this girl is dating charles ⤷ user2 she's way out of his league

charles_leclerc mon bijou (my jewel), no one compares to your beauty! ⤷ yourusername charles stop i'm already turning red

charles_leclerc i cannot believe how blessed i've been with you in my life, i'm going crazy over you ⤷ yourusername you're so overdramatic...

user3 y/n being absolutely flustered because of charles' comments is so real of her ⤷ user4 even i'm blushing because of his compliments ⤷ user5 idk if i should be jealous because she's dating charles or because he keeps being the sweetest boyfriend

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 301,392 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername bye bye vacation ☀️

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user6 i want what they have ⤷ user7 every night i manifest this exact life

charles_leclerc mon soleil (my sun), your smile brightens up my day ⤷ yourusername careful or you'll get a sunburn ⤷ charles_leclerc i'd gratefully accept every sunburn if it means seeing your smile every day

user8 i hate charles for raising the bar so high with every comment he leaves under her posts ⤷ user9 god has his favourites and she's one of them fr

♡ liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 193,304 others

tagged: yourusername

voguesingapore Let the elegance of #Y/N enchant us all. A rising star on various social media platforms, Y/N Y/L/N has enjoyed a big following, especially on Instagram. She's currently dating Formula One driver Charles Leclerc and opens up about the life as an F1 WAG and her life in the spotlight in our September Issue 2022.

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yourusername it feels like a dream come true! i'm still speechless this is really happening... ⤷ charles_leclerc you deserve for all your dreams to come true mon amour (my love)

user10 so we're celebrating people who have achieved nothing on their own now? ⤷ user11 she had a pretty big following even before she started dating charles ⤷ user12 yeah but like.... why? just because she's pretty? ⤷ user13 that's literally how most people became influencers on social media

user14 she's so otherwordly pretty

user15 she looks so ethereal. elegance perfectly describes her

♡ liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 293,495 others

tagged: yourbestfriend

yourusername charles loves to spoil me on my birthday even if he cannot be here right now

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user16 i need to call my therapist because i cannot anymore ⤷ user17 charles spoiling y/n and her friends because of her birthday really confirms the "if he wanted to he would" saying

charles_leclerc the pink hair is going to be the death of me mon coeur (my heart) ⤷ yourusername my face is as pink as my hair right now

user18 wow and my boyfriend couldn't even text me a "happy birthday" on my birthday morning... ⤷ user19 not everyone can be as sweet as charles leclerc

user20 she's so spoiled oml

user21 you're telling me she rather celebrates her birthday with her friends than support charles in zandvoort? ⤷ user22 some people love to hate on every little thing...

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charles_leclerc mon ange rose me rend fou... bon anniversaire ma chère (my pink angel is driving me insane... happy birthday my dear)

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user23 oh he whipped whipped

user24 charles being absolutely head over heels for y/n is what i aspire in my future relationship

yourusername you're too adorable charles, je t'aime (i love you) ⤷ charles_leclerc je t'aime davantage (i love you more) ⤷ yourusername impossible! ⤷ charles_leclerc yes possible!

user25 i need to take a break from charles' and y/n's profiles because their comments keep destoying me

user26 they made me believe in love again ⤷ user27 if they ever break up, i'll be a two times child of divorce

[beevean]

I can't stop thinking about this morning's anon and some of their wording. "This was so scary to write because if any of my friends knew about this my life would be over".

It's short but I honestly felt so bad for them. They really don't need this on top of their other experiences. And what's worse, this is the common mentality now: I keep seeing, on Twitter and Tiktok screenshots, teenagers who genuinely ask if a ship they like is "proship", with the underlying message being "please don't bully me".

And listen to me. I am the most insecure bitch on the planet. I would literally eat my own hands with ketchup and mayonnaise rather than reveal my music tastes to other people. I've been endlessly mocked for my passions ever since I was a child - not bullied, but I've been told by parents and classmates that no one cares, or I'm too old for this, or I need to live in the modern world... long story short, to this day I do not want to be perceived. So I understand the feeling of "you will pry my true tastes from my cold dead hands". I am old enough to know these are irrational thoughts, but to this day I much prefer to keep things to myself.

So listen: you deserve friends who do not judge you.

Again:

You deserve friends who do not judge you.

It's one thing to prefer to keep your tastes private because you're a private person. That's fine! That is your right! But please, if you really think your friends will hate you because you happen to read Problematic™ fiction... no, that shouldn't happen. Especially not on the internet, where nobody should know about you as a person. Friends who do care about you would not think any less of you for something as common (yes it's common!) as enjoying some spicy stories. It is not a crime. It does not say anything about your morals. And it's even worse if you've already suffered in the past, but this goes for everyone.

I don't want to get into the whole pro/anti ship discourse because I am sick of how easily the internet twists the meaning of important words until discussions can't be had because the two factions are not even talking about the same thing anymore. I don't know anon's previous or current stance on shipping, what they meant by that comment, and again the wording worries me a little when combined with that other comment. I do have my thoughts about it that go beyond what "proship" means, and I'll summarize:

not only no one deserves harassment for what they ship, but the only thing you can judge from someone's writing is their writing level. Not their actual personality, not their experiences, and less of all their real-life morals.

Brand this backwards on your forehead and read that in the mirror everytime you wake up.

Anyway. I don't know if you'll read this, anon, but I really wish you all the best luck in the future. And I'm very glad that you approached me to tell me that - as sad as the circumstances are, and I'm sorry for being self-aggrandizing, your praise made my day :)

[goldustwomun]

slipping through my fingers (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter!reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, more of a miserable sirius this time, reader is self-deprecating and talks about not feeling 'enough' (you are babes x), loads of miscommunication or rather inability to say what you mean (it's me I'M READER), i love drama at a dinner a party sooo

wc: 3.3k+

note: somewhat proud of this so help a girl out by reblogging x

pt i. / pt ii.

Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute The feeling in it

The rest of the week flew by much the same. You opened up the shop, shoving the collection of Dickens to stop the door from slamming into you, Sirius crashed in late everyday, so much so that you told him to not even bother apologising (that being said, he hadn’t apologised in the first place). When the two of you spoke, you tried your best to not catch his eye too often. 

Instead, you busied yourself with picking up a novel for you to read inbetween the morning and late-afternoon rush. There were always a few stragglers that ventured through the door in between peak hours, and it was only after the third or fourth go-around of a gaggle of teenagers that had stumbled in, giggling and hiding their grins behind their palms, that you realised they were more of a ‘Sirius Black’ fan club as opposed to actual customers.

You let them have at him considering the few moments of peace it gave you. 

And maybe if you put down your book or halted your busy hands whilst counting the cash or checking the inventory for the fourth time that day, you might just notice how much it bothered you. 

Growing up and finding Sirius in your midst more often than you'd have liked meant countless friendships made and lost over someone or the other wanting just a glimpse of his attention. Anytime you pass the ice cream parlour down the road from your house, you’re reminded of Macy Adams – a pretty thing with pin-straight, jet black hair and pouty lips to complete the look – using you to get to him. 

He never let anything go further than an odd flirty comment here and there with your friends (which you’ll admit was kind of him to do considering he was a hormonal teenager at the time), but you were frankly sick of it.

Because you’d never understand why.

Why him? And why you?

You’d never shared that same rose-coloured view of Sirius, never felt the same burst of butterflies from your first teenage crush being him.

Or maybe you had and it was just easier to hate him than it was to like, let alone love, him. 

So, yes. It was really starting to get on your nerves, if you were being honest. More than you’d ever care to admit.

What’s worse is that his words from days ago wouldn’t stop playing over in your head, like that one Pink Floyd tape you'd gotten stuck in the receiver and no matter or banging or prodding would get it loose.

And you had that he was right about it all -- that, in many ways, you were miserable about life and love (or lack thereof). Maybe forcing those around you to share those same feelings alleviated some of the pains and aches. 

'Cause yes, you were cranky and grouchy and frankly, a bit of a brat more often than not. You blamed it on being the baby of the family, call it youngest child syndrome, but damn it– you had been twelve and mourning your childhood, and now at twenty-something, those aches had yet to subside.

Yet you couldn’t stop it. The hate and the anger and the frustration at a world that had left you behind. Your stomach lurched at the sudden bites of sadness when a day had gone by and you’d not accomplished anything.

So when Sirius flaunts into your kitchen with a hangover and a few hickies down his neck, and your parents pat him on the back, congratulating him for his very existence (at least, you assume that's it) -- it stings. You've hated him for it, always have, but maybe you also loved hi–

No. You couldn’t.

One day, Sirius was scolding James for tugging at your pigtails, and the next, he was pulling them himself.

It didn’t matter anyway. Sirius Black would never be a pivotal part of your life. You’d keep him waiting on the sidelines, only to occasionally bump into him on holidays and during family gatherings. Sure, you you both tossed petty insults at each other every now and again, but other than that, you needn’t see him. 

Outside of your nine-to-five at the bookstore, of course. 

You returned to the words of the book you’d chosen, pleading with your mind to focus once more. You’d changed the sleeve, not wanting Sirius to see what you were reading so intently. 

Was it really so bad? A young girl – nay, a youthful girl, with interests, needs and desires that were essentially unmet for the time being. It was normal to want to read about whirlwind fictional romances, fantasise about having someone close, kissing you, touching you, being yours and no one else’s.

You weren’t about to add to Sirius’ list of things to tease you for by clueing him in on the fact that you were sitting right next to him, reading filthy, irredeemable smut with not a single suitor lined up to help you out. 

He was sat behind the counter with you, the store empty, with a journal and fountain pen in hand as he scribbled away about something or the other. You were convinced he was writing angsty poetry about the blonde who’d left him to travel around Amsterdam (yes, the same one he’d met only a week earlier), but something about the furrow between his brows had you questioning such a dismissive assumption.

Sirius peered over at you. You only knew because you’d grown accustomed to the sensation of his eyes watching your every week for the past week. Other than polite exchanges and a question every now and again about the dewey decimal system, you’d not spoken a word to each other.

You weren’t sure if the ceaseless, stabbing pain in your chest was relief or something worse.

Regret?

You were on the verge of telling him off for staring when the door jingled announcing someone’s arrival. Looking up from the blurring words on the page, you were met with the scheming grin of your brother, James.

“Hullo there lovely, lovely, people!” he hollered with only a smidge too much of enthusiasm. You worried his face might get stuck with how wide (and forced?) his smile seemed to be. 

“Why are you so happy?” you questioned abruptly, brow raised with suspicion.

“My sweet, innocent, little sister. Is your life so miserable that a singular smile makes you uncomfortable?” he teased in that boyish way of his.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, reminded of the very similar accusations Sirius had thrown at you last time you two had dared to face each other head on.

You could see– no, feel him straighten next to you at James’ words, arm brushing against yours enough that you tried to discreetly move away. 

He looked almost upset when you did finally turn to look at him, but he quickly snapped his attention back to James instead. “Don’t be a dick to your sister, James,” he scolded, and James must not have thought much of the uncharacteristic chide because he continued unperturbed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. I’ve entered your humble store to invite the two of you to a dinner party tonight at ours’. Mum and Dad have offered to take Harry for the night, so a soiree of our first night back on the ‘scene’ since becoming parents seemed in order,” he explained, all flourishing hands and expectant smiles.

“So, can I take it that I'll be seeing the two of you later?”

Sirius nodded immediately but you struggled for an excuse reasonable enough to get out of it.

“I don't know, James. I have so much to do here and– you know– Dad wants the inventory done and all that. It’s really just– yeah. I don’t think so...” You cringed at how you'd managed to stumble over just about every word, hoping, praying, neither James nor Sirius would call you out on your barely concealed attempts to avoid Sirius for at least a few more days.

It was Sirius’ turn to tease you, despite having restrained himself from doing so all week.

“Well shit, mini Potter. You’ve managed to say so much and yet so little at the same,” he pointed out, nudging your side.

You scoffed at him in return, crossing your arms out of protest. “And I saw you do inventory already. In fact, I saw you do it, then do it again, then again and– ah, yes. Again.”

You aimed a glare right at him, and his only response was a hesistant smile.

James stepped in once more with an– “Alright-y then, I will be seeing you both tonight. 7:30pm. Bring a bottle because we don’t have any and Lily is dying for a glass now that she’s not breastfeeding.” He walked the short distance towards the door, called out– “don’t be late” –then disappeared into the bustle on the street. 

It took all of two seconds of James being gone before you spun to face Sirius, clouds swarming behind your eyes. “What’d you do that for, Sirius?” you questioned indignantly.

“Well, you see, you were lying and I corrected you. Now you’re going to your brother’s ‘soiree’. Really, I don’t think it’s that complicated, love,” he answered matter-of-factly. “It's not like theere's a genuine reason to not want to go, other than, let's say... avoiding me?" he asked, cautious as if worried you'd bite.

“Well– yes– but– I mean, no that's not it--”

“So I’m right. Right?” he cut in, standing up from the stool with a loud scrape against the floor. He squeezed your shoulder once as he moved out from behind the counter and headed for the aisles of books. “Great, so I’ll see you tonight.”

Well, fuck. 

You were reluctant when you stuffed your feet into your shoes and reluctant when you apparated to the (other) Potter’s doorstep, and reluctant, once more, when you knocked on the front door. Only seconds later was Remus swinging the door open. You offered him a shy smile– finding him to be both the most chivalrous and kind of your brother’s friends – before stepping inside and hanging your coat on the peg.

It was only 7:45 but there must have been at least twenty or so people hanging around the living room, glasses in hand with the crackling stereo speakers switching between the Beatles and Slade and the odd Blondie track you were sure Lily had threatened James to include. 

“Quite a crowd already,” you noted, hanging back, stiff and awkward, and feeling utterly out of place with your brother’s friends. They were all parents and spouses and had jobs that afforded them a house of their own. They were only a few years older yet miles ahead of where you were, and it was only seeing all of their faces in one room that you realised your own predicament.

“Yeah, I think we all realised it’s been a hot minute since anyone’s thrown any kind of party, so in our eagerness we all showed up about thirty minutes early,” he mused. “Lily was livid. Her hair was still in those curling contraptions.”

“You mean... curlers?” you pointed out, charmed. 

“Ah, yes. Curlers,” he teased back.

It was only then that you realised you hadn’t quite had a proper conversation with Remus since, well, ever. And it was nice, normal, and not nearly as infuriating as just about every conversation you’d had with Sirius.

You could feel him staring at you from the corner of your eye, so when he offered to get you a drink – “A raspberry cider, please. Lily keeps them in the cabinet in the kitchen for me,” – you accepted, taking a moment to internally scold yourself for instinctively thinking of him every time something happened to you.

While you waited for Remus to return, you ventured into the hall in search of James. You figured you better make yourself known so he doesn’t accuse you of skiving your own brother’s party. 

You only managed a step or two past the threshold when a hand reached for your own, tugging you into the closet.

It was pitch black and you’d been on the verge of letting out a blood-curdling scream before a dim, orange glow bathed the cramped room.

Your vision focused, first, on the hanging tether of the light, and then Sirius’ face behind it. He looked to be somewhere between panicked and restless, and really, it was appropriate considering the beating you were pondering laying out on him.

And you hated to even think it but he looked good. All scruff and unruly hair like he couldn't stop combing his fingers through the strands, and he smelled of pine and wood and books and--

“Sirius?!"

"I can explain--" he began but you held up your hand to silence him. He must have noticed the murderous rage brewing behind your irises because, for once, he did, in fact, stop talking.

"I'm not just-- you can't just-- what the fuck are you doing pulling oblivious girls into closets, you fucking weirdo!” you scolded, your voice coming out as more of a whisper than a shout so as not to alert anyone of your current situation. 

“No, Potter, you see, I just wanted to--” and it was amusing, really, to see him struggle for once. Tripping over vowels and consonants like he'd had you (you'd never tell him that though) and every other girl to enter within a metre's radius of him doing so.

“You just what?” you bit out, growing impatient as the seconds passed by.

You wondered if Remus was looking for you now, or if he’d grown bored and moved onto the brunette you knew he had pined after for years.

“Look– if you want to lecture me again about how I’m a miserable, terrible, fucking horrible, even, person– save it. I get it. I know. I’ve heard it from you and James and I’m pretty sure Mum said it to Aunt Ca–”

“No, love, no,” he cut you off, again.

You tried to ignore how that was twice, now, that he’d referred to you so endearingly, so out of character. It bugged you but not for reasons you were willing to admit.

“I mean– yes, I want to talk about that but not to lecture you. Not now. I wanted to apologise,” he continued, forgetting to breathe between words and phrases but it seemed he had set himself in-motion and couldn’t be stopped. “I’ve been a dick, I realise that. And maybe it was a fun little bit between us when we were younger and more stupid–” you frowned at that but let him continue anyway.

“-- But I think we’ve gotten carried away ‘cause, I mean, I sure think Ihave. I said some horrible, untrue things to you that I don’t, not one bit, mean or believe in anyway. And I should have apologised earlier but things were so, so, painfully awkward and you’ve been buried in that book of yours so I just–” he breathed, finally, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, love.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond or if you were meant to, even, but he was staring all doe-eyed and expectant and freaking cologne of his was all you could smell and really, you blame the prospect of the cider and the scandalous books you’d been reading because you didn’t mean to tug the light off or lean forward and collide with him. 

It just happened.

It was dark and quiet and you could feel him go stiff and your own heartbeat droning on in your ears, but it was only when you began to pull away that he surged forward, too.

Pushing, scrambling, gasping into your mouth before shoving the pair of you into the opposite wall, his large palm covering the back of your head so that even whilst he was devouring you in every sense of the word, your heart raced at his tenderness. 

Your arms clung to his shoulders, pulling him in in in, until there was not an atom’s worth of space between you. The hand not currently cushioning your head moved to hook your leg around his waist, and you opened willingly, pleadingly, melting the moment he slid, firm, against you.

You sighed into his mouth with every caress of his tongue against your own, and questioned your sanity for following through with the very thoughts you’d fantasised about for weeks, months, maybe even years. 

Just as you were reluctant to attend the party in the first place, you were reluctant to pull back even just to breathe but he must have felt the air leaving your lungs as well because he moved to place open-mouthed, wet and searching kisses against your neck and collarbones– biting, sucking, nipping in all the ways he knew how. 

Fuck everyone who got him before you’d ever had the chance, but thank God for the skill he had acquired in the meantime.

“Potter,” he groaned against the dampness of your neck, sounding every bit in pain as you were. The coarse hair of his moustache scratched at your skin with every movement of his mouth, and you couldn't help but tangle your fingers into his long strands, holding him in place. “Fuck– I’ve thought about this–” and he never managed to finish before he grew impatient of even himself and returned his mouth to you. 

“I– Me too– Oh fuck!” He bit, hard, into your sensitive skin before soothing the sting over with his tongue, planting a final kiss to the spot before moving to cradle your face in his palms. He kissed you, once, twice, a third time for luck you assumed, before you managed to resist for long enough to get your words out. 

It took a second for the electricity thrumming inside of you to subside enough for your thoughts to order themselves once more.

You stared at him, pupils dilated, mouth wide in shock, and looking every bit of the mess you felt. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” and they came out before you’d given yourself time to even really process what had just happened, or what you wanted your reaction to be.

You’d seen Sirius defeated, though only ever over the mundane and menial. A stubbed toe on the step he always forgot about that lead into your parents' kitchen, his favourite team losing a Quidditch match, or when the wrong order arriving from the chippy.

But the way his face fell-- sure it was dark but you could just tell.

He froze momentarily, before he stepped away, abrupt and robotic and so not-Sirius in every way you had come to know.

“Sirius I didn't–” you began, but he’d already tugged the light back on and with it, reality came crashing in, occupying the space he had only seconds ago. 

“No, no. You’re right, Potter,” he said, sounding every bit as lifeless as he looked now that you could actually see him.

He wouldn’t raise his gaze to meet your own, to see you pleading, silent, but pleading, that no, I lied, it wasn’t a mistake, in fact I want to do just that, more and more. And unlike every other moment in your life, for once, you couldn’t get the words out past your lips.

At least, not the right ones.

“I’m sorry,” you tried, gentle. You mourned the return of that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as your chest threatened to cave in on itself.

How was it that you felt worse than when you’d first gotten here?

Only this time it was no one’s fault but your own.

“No need to apologise, love.” He paused for a beat, glancing at the door before following through on the thoughts telling him to leave it at that before things got worse, and slipped out of the door. 

The light was still on and you noticed the shoes lined up neatly on one of the racks. Coats and jackets and umbrellas hung on the rod in front of you. Above it, there was a shelf with helmets, badminton rackets and a netball. 

There were things all around you, but you’d never felt so lonely.

You could feel the cold seeping into the space around you, one that was filled with his body heat only moments earlier.

It took everything in you to not break down right then and there.

Instead, you stepped out into the hall and plastered a smile on your face, hoping you’d make it to your room before the dam broke.

I have a rough plan of the final two chapters but eee i hope y'all enjoyed this :))