#if you’re my friend and you read this post and feel guilty bc it sounds like you… change your behavior

[jewishmcr]

it’s sooo disheartening to only ever see me, my fiancé, and a handful of my mutuals here actually understand that not wearing a mask in public is an extremely selfish thing to do like while y’all are going “back to normal” myself and every other immunocompromised or vulnerable person can’t even go to the doctor or grocery store safely because everyone else decided we aren’t worth protecting

[maygranted]

I saw your post about Buck being OCD-coded! Can you please say more?? I’ve always read him as being ADHD-coded and I’d love to hear more!

omg ofc i’d love to! i do apologise for how long this post is going to be 😭

so to start off, this all began bc my friend (who has adhd) really related to buck and i (who has ocd) also really related to him so we were like hmm wait a second… adhd AND ocd???

anyway i think one part of him that’s just v ocd coded to me (but also definitely is in combination with rsd from his adhd) is how he tends to catastrophise situations. like he has such severe abandonment issues to the point where he actively obsesses over it, here’s an example !!!

BUCK: Starts out small. Uh, she's-she's canceling plans. She's got to work. She needs to wash her hair or do her laundry, and before you know it, poof. Dropping them off at the airport and never seeing them again.

HEN: Okay, Buck, you're being a little too Buck about this.

like it’s just a very irrational line of thought and u can see how hen says oh you’re being a little too buck abt this bc it’s common for him to exaggerate situations he obsesses over in his mind. and then in turn to alleviate this anxiety somehow he begins to cling bc all his irrational thoughts are telling him that people will leave

and then ofc there’s the situation where after chimney’s left he feels so heavily responsible for it (responsibility ocd ) to the point where he says he’ll leave the 118. like that’s such an irrational line of thought that his mind has catastrophised from obsessing over it.

and then also the tsunami episodes <3 like ofc he feels responsible for chris it’s a normal response but the way he actively obsesses over losing chris and that that makes him a terrible person and he has such severe guilt over it is just v moral ocd and responsibility ocd to me? so he searches for chris to the point where he’s severely dehydrated and bleeding and he still doesn’t stop that’s just a v obsessive thing to me does that make sense??

here’s an explanation of hyper-responsibility related to ocd, which btw sounds very buck coded to me:

But what happens when someone overestimates their responsibility? What happens when someone feels that they can control things that they cannot actually control? These feelings might even seep into relationships—feeling like they can control how someone else feels, or feeling that they are responsible for making everyone happy or content. This can create people-pleasing patterns and make them constantly feel the need to put others’ needs in front of their own. This can look like saying yes to things they do not want to do but feel they need to do, lest someone get upset with them. Or, they may think, “If I don’t do this, then something bad might happen.” […]

Anxiety and guilt are often at the root of an inflated sense of responsibility. The person with OCD thinks of all the possible repercussions of not acting in a particular scenario. They feel guilty for possible negative outcomes, often engaging in magical thinking—believing that their ideas, thoughts, actions, or other things can impact the world around them. This results in compulsions, which can take on many different forms; for some, it may involve very detailed rituals they feel they must perform to prevent something very specific from occurring. For others, it may be a vague need to do something “just in case” or to feel like everyone will be safe.

and then ofc there’s my gifset where he’s developed a compulsion bc he’s scared he’s still in a coma so he has a list of things he checks </3

anyway i feel like a huge part of this is definitely also projecting bc i personally struggle with moral ocd and responsibility ocd and a lot of guilt bc of that but it’s just something i’ve noticed a lot with buck, how his mind is constantly jumping to the worst, most irrational conclusion (and irrationality IS a huge part of intrusive thoughts) and so in turn he either feels the need to fix it (bc it’s HIS responsibility in his mind!) by distancing himself bc he’s the problem or clinging. trying to fix something that isn’t even a problem that needs fixing or isn’t even ur responsibility to fix is just a very ocd coded thing to me <3 and i think a lot of this is definitely more related to mental compulsions which a lot of people don’t really know abt and instead assume ocd is just the stereotypical compulsions (washing hands, organising etc which ARE ofc things that happen but it’s not just that!) so he v much falls into that “irrational thought / obsession” —> anxiety, uncertainty, guilt —> compulsion (trying to fix shit, apologising, reassurance) cycle u see with ocd.

i hope this made sense somehow and ty for asking, as u can see i love talking abt this :)) also it’s absolutely ok to disagree with me on this, it’s just something i personally noticed and really identified with due to my own ocd, i just hope i did a good job of explaining it!

[imjusttpeachy]

she's a rae of sunshine (c.h.)

okay so this was a request but i completely read it wrong so i’m gonna write it again but i finished this one anyway so here take it

so sorry to the anon who requested it bc u were so fuckin sweet i’ll have it up asap i promise

playlist

ralph castelli - morning sex

crumb - bones

jorja smith - teenage fantasy

summary: balancing college life and wanting to support your best friends online endeavors was difficult, but reader regrets trying a little harder when she finally meets one of her newer stream-mates

word count: 2, 828

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, lowkey OOC Corpse, that needs its own warning i’m sorry,

•••

“Look you knew I had to stream before I said you could come over ya fuckin idiot.”

“Yea I knowwwww, I just wanted to spend more time with my super-hot best friend forever.”

Being the best friend of an online personality had its perks— the amazing trips you got to hitch a ride on, the adoring fans that seemed to latch on to you as well, the sponsorships that would always send you something along with the original PR package, and especially the way she was able to choose their own work hours.

Well... mostly.

As much as you adored spending time together during the day, whether it be shopping or going out for brunch, those late nights that always seemed to hold the most memories you held so dear were few and far between. Of course, you couldn’t blame her; responsibilities were responsibilities, and fuck if you’d let your selfish wants override the way she chooses to get her work done. You really couldn’t be one to judge either-- having to call off dates because you’d underestimated the time you needed to complete a school paper, or when a last-minute lab was called in and you’d have to leave her sitting alone in those cafes with your half-finished mocha and a promise to Venmo her the money to cover it later. What left you feeling the most guilty, though, was the fact that you weren’t able to watch her content as much as you’d like to. Sure, you’d catch a few minutes of a stream here and there but any time you spent apart was usually spent with your head buried in a book, mind bleary with countless espresso shots trying to keep your tired eyes focused on the seemingly unending work in front of you.

But, a distraction every now and then couldn’t hurt. Right?

Having had enough of your current assignment, any coherent thought was long gone, you’d decided to pay your favourite person a little visit. You knew she’d probably be busy as she hadn’t replied to your previous text for a few hours, but knowing her presence alone and any passing comments would lift the heaviness that had found its home in your head and chest, you shot her a message to let her know that her office couch would be occupied by you for the next few hours. Normally, you’d just show up so you knew she wouldn’t have a problem with it; so when that fateful message popped up on your phone giving you the go-ahead you completely ignored the warning of her work schedule and drove right over.

So now here you were, sprawled haphazardly on her couch clad in sweats and a sports bra scrolling through your phone as you watched her finish her final touches so she could start her stream.

“You’re gonna be in the background of my face cam if you wanna sit there y’know.” Groaning in response to her warning not wanting to move from the comfy spot you just found, you looked over at her with the best puppy eyes you could muster. She chuckled softly, raising her hands in surrender as she turned back to her setup. “Hey I really don’t care, just warning ya bug. The thirst comments and screenshots are outta my hands.”

Scoffing under your breath at her comment, you turned your head back to your phone as a Twitter notification popped up at the top of your screen.

Corpse Husband: streaming among us in a few mins, join in on youtube

Heartbeat picking up slightly, you scrambled for the purse you’d thrown at the base of the couch for your headphones. Ever since you’d found this handsome-voiced stranger’s channel on your late night horror binges, you had fallen completely in love. While you weren’t typically the type to watch video game commentary outside of Rae, his voice got you completely hooked and you couldn’t get enough of it. Yeah, maybe you were a bit of a simp, but that sweet and genuine personality that hid behind that gravelly tone had you melting completely into his clutches. You tried to convince yourself to get over it, you didn’t even know what he looked like. But, y’know, a little crush wouldn’t hurt anybody right?

“Going live in T-minus 30 seconds babe.” Jumping slightly as Rae’s voice knocked you out of dreamland, you mumbled out a small “got it” as you once again got focused on getting your headphones connected to your phone. You’d never been able to watch one of his lives before, his horror commentary videos usually playing as background noise as you did schoolwork or while you were falling asleep. Practically shaking with excitement, you opened your YouTube app seeing the live at the very top and tapping on it immediately only to be met with that sweet laugh ringing through your headphones like music to your ears. You grinned to yourself, grabbing the throw pillow you had previously tossed to the floor and hugging it to your chest while your eyes remained glued to your phone screen, completely forgetting what was happening around you as you zeroed in on the gravelly tone you’d fallen oh-so in love with.

“Hey (Y/N) wave hi.” You startled slightly as the faint voice of your friend sounded from across the room. Glancing up from your phone, you pulled an earbud from your ear and furrowed your brows at her before slowly processing what she said, lifting a hand in greeting to her watchers. She laughed at your confusing antics, turning slightly in her chair to look over at you. “What the hell are you so smiley about?”

“…Nothing..” You grinned widely as her laugh once again resounded around the room, shaking her head at you before turning back to her screen with a scoff, muttering something under her breath so only her watchers could hear. Smile still plastered across your lips, you settled back down into the comfiness of the couch and popped your earbud back in, zeroing in again on the screen in front of you. Watching as Corpse moved his character around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join, a small giggle escaped from under your breath; trying your best to be mindful of Rae’s stream but not being able to hold back the flustered feeling welling up in your chest, mind giddy with the thought of finally being able to see one of his famous live streams, well, live. It had only been a few seconds later when you heard Rae’s voice once again, only this time, not as muffled as before.

“What’s up motherfuckers.” Brows furrowing in confusion, you lifted your hand to your earbud and pulled it from your ear once again, hearing her voice from across the room but from your other earbud as well. No, there was no fucking way. All your questions were answered, though, as you glanced back down at your phone screen seeing a red character move around the game lobby along with Corpse’s, the gamer tag ‘Valkyrae’ floating just above it. Blinking hard at your screen trying to convince yourself that your eyes were lying to you, you slowly pulled your hand to cover your mouth in shock. How… How could you possibly not know they knew each other? With the way they spoke to each other in sarcastic comments, poking fun at the other it sounded like they were close too. Body finally catching up with your thoughts, you scrambled at your phone, shaky hands moving as quickly as they could to pull up your texts with Rae. Your fingers tapped furiously at the screen, anxious to get back to the live stream to listen in more but also needing to know what the fuck was going on.

TO my rae of sunshine: care to explain what the fuck is going on??! how the fuck do you know corpse husband?????!??!

“Oops sorry guys, guess I forgot to turn off my phone ringer-“ Staring up at the back of her head helplessly, you watched as she picked up her phone seeming to read out the text before bursting into a peal of laughter. Tossing a look at you over her shoulder, you looked back down at your phone bashfully, seeing the three loading dots in your message thread indicating that she was messaging you back.

my rae of sunshine: lol what about it? you gotta crush on him or something?

TO my rae of sunshine: …no

Hitting send you rushed back to the stream, anxious to see what Corpse was saying in response to Rae’s absence, not thinking anything about your brief conversation and thinking you would discuss it after she had logged off for the night. Though, as you heard her phone chime again from across the room followed by another bark of laughter, you knew you weren’t getting off that easy.

“What are you laughing about?” Corpse’s honeyed voice sounded from your earbud, hearing Rae’s giggles from what you presumed to be their discord voice chat. Glancing anxiously between his stream and the reflection of Rae’s face cam in one of her monitors, your heart began to sink as you watched that familiar mischievous grin tugging at the edge of her lips.

“Oh just my friend (Y/n) sent me a funny meme”

“Wait, is she the one in some of your Instagram posts?” You swear your heart stopped beating at that moment, eyes glued to the screen in front of you as you tried helplessly to process the conversation happening right in front of you. He knew who you were? You thought you’d always be lost among the hundreds of thousands of his new adoring fans, left in the anonymity of your Twitter tag in his subtweets, or just another subscriber that fawned over him silently behind a keyboard. Knowing that he’d actually seen your face you could feel your own beginning to heat at that moment; you brought your hands your mouth again, unknowingly curling your body tighter around the pillow in your lap as you tried to hide your face behind it as you become more and more flustered from the words nonchalantly escaping his mouth.

“Yea that’s her, pretty thing isn’t she? She’s my absolute favourite.”

That’s it, you were gonna fucking kill her.

“I mean, yeah... I guess..” The timid words followed by a soft awkward chuckle had your breath hitching in your throat. There was no fucking way this was happening. This had to be a dream, that was the only possible explanation. You were just about to pinch yourself when Rae’s voice startled you from your thoughts.

“She’s actually over right now. She insisted on getting wine drunk later tonight because her professor’s been on her ass lately. I’ll get her to come say hi.” Rae had barely turned around in her chair when she was met with your wide-eyed gaze, panic painted across your features as you shook your head wildly. You were in no state to be talking to your long-time internet crush in such a casual setting. But with the look Rae shot you from her chair as she started to plug another headset into her PC, you knew you had no choice and begrudgingly pulled yourself from the couch almost tripping over your own feet as you shakily walked over to Rae. Shooting her another pleading look, she only shoved the headset in your direction in return as she grinned up at you. Finally biting the bullet, you pulled on the headset and leaned down toward the mic.

“Hi, how’s it going?” Cursing at yourself for how quiet and shaky your words came out, you barely had any time to think it over before a chorus of greetings sounded through the headset. A small giggle escaped your lips as you watched the different Discord icons appear and disappear from the top of the screen. You knew most of these people already which made you even more confused as to how you managed to miss that voice from all the discord chats and voice calls. Well, knowing them was a bit of an overstatement anyway; you knew /of/ them, and they knew /of/ you in the other times you popped up in the background or in passing conversation during Rae’s streams. They did know you well enough, though, to know this was not the way you usually spoke around them.

“No way, that can’t be the (Y/N) I know!” The voice you recognize as Sean echoes through your headset, another chorus of knowing laughter following quickly after. Taking a deep breath you managed to force out a few words that would get them off your case.

“…Shut the fuck up”

“There she is!!” As the group erupted in laughter yet again, all you could focus on was the faint deep chuckle that resounded through your headset. Feeling your face start to heat up, you covered your wide grin with your hand as butterflies burst through your stomach; you could listen to that laugh all day. Before you were able to speak again, though, that heavenly voice piped up and wiped all train of thought from your mind.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N).”

“It’s nice to meet you too Corpse. I gotta be honest ‘n say I’m a pretty big fan of your no-sleep work.” And... there’s the word vomit. Fuck, you could feel your cheeks starting to heat up with the ongoing realization of who you were talking to.

“Aha thank you, I uh really appreciate that. I’m sure you just heard, but I guess you could say I’m a fan of yours also.”

No.

No, there’s no fucking way.

Is he...

Flirting with you?

Before you could even think about what to reply to that with, the rest of the group beat you to it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what is happening.”

“CORPSE! You SIMP!”

“Is- Is Corpse really shooting his shot right now?”

You didn’t realize you were frozen in place until you felt Rae’s hand on your elbow, snapping you out of your bewildered trance as you tried to comprehend what was happening yourself. As your thoughts finally caught up to the present, you could feel your cheeks start to burn; pulling your hand up to cover your face you stepped out of the view of the face cam. Rae’s laughter filled the room as she watched your flustered antics, shooting you a sly grin as she started scanning the monitor displaying her live chat.

“Wait, wait, chats telling me (y/n)’s blushing right now?” Sean’s voice echoed through the discord chat, only making you flush further as you tried desperately to find a way out of this.

“Okay, okay, leave her alone.” Corpse’s voice finally piped up amid all of the chaos causing everyone to immediately pipe down. God, you didn’t even want to begin to think of the mess this has already made, you just needed to get out of there before you caused any more damage.

“Yeah, I uh- see- see that the lobby’s full so I’ll just uh- leave you guys to it.” Quietly thanking the stars that Corpse finally got you out of this mess, you went to pull the headset off your ears when that fateful voice piped up again.

“Wait, don’t let these nerds make you leave. You should stay- I mean, only to help Rae y'know? She needs it.”

“I do not!”

“I- I mean yea sure, as long as I’m not intruding,” Cursing yourself again for stuttering before forcing yourself to swallow the knot in your throat, “I mean, she really does need the help.”

“Okay just because you want to flirt some more doesn’t mean you can bully me-“

“Okay, I’m starting the round!” The booming accented voice cut off everyone else in the call as you all stared as the screen began to count down to the game, and before anyone had the chance to say anything else a chorus of laughs resounded, and then the lobby fell into silence.

•••

And it went on like that, the not-so-subtle flirting followed by relentless jabs from the group immediately after. The game was almost forgotten with how much of each lobby was taken up by teasing words and endless laughter, but every audience was just eating it up. You didn’t even want to think about the mess social media was going to be after this stream but right now you were having fun with your friends and that’s all that mattered. The grin was practically plastered on your face as you laughed along with Rae the chat during the gameplay portions and you knew everything from this moment on was gonna be different, but you couldn’t find a single thing within you to care.

Especially when you logged onto Twitter right after the stream and saw that little message right at the top of your requests.

@.corpsehusband: wanna hear some of that no sleep work in person?

•••

beep bop here u go,

[jaecrivaine]

Two Drunk Truths and a Lie

Where you get drunk with the Dreamies, a unit that includes both the man who is your best friend and the man you’re (probably) (hopelessly) head over heels with. 

Absolute Fluff, A little suggestive but nothing past some banter; mutual pining kinda 

TW: Drinking, Swearing, overall young adult antics. Flirting of course :)

Medium-high heat bc I don’t like slow burn (I have no patience LOL) 

Renjun X Fem!Reader ft. Best friend!Jaemin and the rest of Dream 

Hi guys here is my first not prompt writing & my first post about my bias :))) This is actually an excerpt (kinda) from a longer story I’m writing for fun (I mean this is all for fun but I mean that I don’t have any plans to post it here). This was better in my head but uhhh here it is. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! Pls come party & send an ask or a message if you want~ 

You padded into the living room in one of Jaemin’s hoodies (as per usual) as the boys sat around the coffee table in the living room of your apartment, being pulled over to sit squished in between said boy and Mark. 

“Heyyyy hot stuff, you’re lookin’ good,” Mark started flirting as soon as you plopped onto the couch, making a few of the guys laugh as they caught sight of your disgusted face.

Renjun showed up last, face sour and shot glasses in hand when he spotted both seats next to you taken. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to make that face after the shot, not before it!”

________________________________________________________________

Starting the second bottle of soju, Jeno picked a card off the top of the deck of the drinking game they were currently playing(these are all real cards from “These Cards Will Get You Drunk”). “Everyone votes on who is the biggest alcoholic. That person drinks and also picks another person to drink,” he read the card off to the group before looking around. You guys weren’t close to being drunk yet since the soju bottle wasn’t very big and there were 7 of you drinking, but it was enough for some of you to start feeling either warm, happy, or both. “Okay, so who’s the biggest alcoholic here?” 

“Y/N, for sure,” Haechan called out, causing Chenle to snort before losing himself in a fit of giggles. 

“Sorry Y/N but I have to agree. You and Jaemin are trying to get everyone to drink ALL the time.” 

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” Y/N pouted, causing the rest of the group to give her looks of disbelief, amongst all the giggling. “Okay okay fine, you asses. I pick…” You looked around the room, most of them dreading the thought of being picked. “...Jaemin of course!” you poured both of your shots before grabbing yours and clinking them together, both taking the shot and having minimal reactions.

“Jealous?” Haechan nudged Renjun with his foot, laughing as Renjun reached over to the deck. 

“No!” he answered defensively, cheeks growing pink when he realized he sounded guilty. Most (okay, all) of the boys knew he had a crush on you, but he was too shy to do anything about it. A few of them knew you had a crush on him too, but you didn’t want to make anything weird between the two of you. You would feel like shit if you couldn’t hang out with Jaemin and the others because you made things awkward with Renjun. 

Renjun cleared his throat and read off his card, “CHOOSE SOMEONE TO DO A MARRIAGE SHOT WITH YOU.” He raised his eyebrows, turning to look around the room as well. Chenle and Haechan expected him to choose you, getting ready to tease him, but instead-

“Jeno~” Renjun poured two shots, handing one to Jeno before proceeding to take the shot with him. Jaemin and Mark exchanged looks, which didn’t go unnoticed by you since you were sitting between them. You just rolled your eyes, of course he wouldn’t pick you. 

“Okay Y/N, your turn,” Jeno called to you after taking his shot, groaning at the burn in his throat and throwing back some soda. Jaemin held onto you as you reached over to get to the deck, but it proved harder now that the alcohol was hitting. Jaemin helped as much as he could, making sure you stayed mostly upright. “Maybe you should come sit on the floor with us,” Haechan suggested after watching you struggle to reach for the deck, since you were sitting the farthest away with Jaemin. 

“The person after you can ask you a question. You can either answer truthfully or refuse to answer and drink.” you set the card down, looking back at Jaemin. “Well, hit me.” 

Jaemin took a second to think, looking up before making eye contact with you and smirking. “When are you planning on asking one of us on a date?” Haechan all but gasped (because he’s overdramatic), while your eyes widened. You shot him a dirty look before reaching over to pour yourself a drink, which was also proving hard due to the length you had to reach. Jaemin protested when you slid off the couch onto the floor to pour your shot and take it. “Aww, you’re no fun!” He poked at you, but you just stuck your tongue out and motioned for them to continue the game. 

“Everyone drink!” Jaemin laughed as he read off the card, throwing it in the trash pile and pouring everyone a shot. “Alright you heard the cards, down the hatch!” Everyone took the shot, afterward you reached over to take a sip of Jeno’s soda. 

“Hey! Why didn’t you take Renjun’s, he’s sitting right there?” Jeno motioned to the smaller boy, who was situated closer to you now that you chose to sit with them on the floor. Renjun’s cheeks turned pink, getting caught in the middle of your little argument. He didn’t say anything, but chose to pick up a card silently to continue the game. “And by the way, you totally messed up the order-” 

“Tell two truths and a lie. Anyone can answer and if the first answer is correct, you drink. Otherwise the person who answered drinks,” he read, cutting Jeno off. Haechan laughed when he heard the instruction. 

“Okay, make them spicy!!” Haechan commanded Renjun, taking a sip of his drink. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, but he took a quick peek at you before clearing his throat. 

“Uhh okay, one, I have a birthmark on my left hand. Two, my birthstone is aquamarine. Three, uhm…” he sat on his hands, pausing for a second to take a breath, “...three, I have a drawing of my crush that Chenle found last week and threatened to show if I didn’t ask them out soon.” 

Everyone sat thinking, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest, hearing that Renjun had a crush on someone and it probably wasn’t you. Haechan tried peeking at his hands, but Chenle sat up before anyone could answer. “I forgot about that, and you haven’t done it!” I’m getting that drawing,” he shot up to grab his bag, Renjun going after him. You didn’t know what the commotion was about, why would he be scared to show you the drawing if it wasn’t you? The boys just laughed hearing them wrestling. Chenle came racing back to where you were seated, shoving the paper at you. You took it, not understanding at first and Renjun hoped it wasn’t accurate enough but by the look of recognition, you did. 

Man, he wished he was worse at drawing. 

“Is this me?” You furrowed your brows, looking up at Renjun. 

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask you out but-” 

“Your birthmark is on your right hand,” you interrupted him, motioning for him to come back and take a shot. “That’s the lie.” He cleared his throat again, awkwardly sitting next to you. 

“How did you figure that out?” Jaemin asked in confusion, even he didn’t know which hand had the birthmark. 

“I figured it out,” you started to explain as Renjun took the shot with his obviously empty left hand, “because I like looking at Renjun’s hands. Maybe now I can hold one?” You looked over to him and he choked a little on his soda. 

“I- uh, yeah yeah...of course…” He replied softly, causing you to laugh at his nervous stuttering. You took his hand, leaning against him and telling Chenle to continue the game, it was still pretty early in the evening and the only plans everyone had for tomorrow were sleeping in your apartment until noon at the earliest. 

“By the way,” you turned to Renjun, who looked over before blushing at the proximity. “I’d love to go out with you, if that wasn’t clear.” 

He couldn’t help but smile back at you after hearing this, going in to give you a small kiss before Haechan decided to ruin the moment. “Ew!!! Get a ROOM you two, I don’t want to see this!” Jaemin threw a pillow over at him, smacking him square in the face as his tipsy state didn’t allow for him to dodge it in time. 

“Shut up, I’ve been trying to get her to make a move for months JUST LET THEM BE CUTE SO SHE’LL LEAVE ME ALONE,” he yelled to your dismay. 

“Na Jaemin, I will get you-” you turned, going to lunge for him but Renjun just laughed and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him to calm you down. 

“So, months huh?” He smirked down at you and you groaned. He just laughed down at you, and you swore you could kill both him and Jaemin right now. 

“...You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

[mongooseblues]

Bless You Father for I Have Sinned (Fleabag, Hot Priest) 1/1

Did anyone watch Fleabag and/or want to read about a hot priest sneezing?

This works just fine as a standalone if u haven’t seen the show but for context: Hot Irish prob alcoholic “cool swear-y” priest and recovering sex addict and all-around hot mess main character (who doesn’t have a name) strike up a “friendship” that is just a poorly veiled excuse for spending time with someone they want very badly to fuck but can’t bc priesthood vow of celibacy and whatnot.

Here’s ~2k words in which I continuously get off on the idea of blessing a priest and unresolved sexual tension I also don’t resolve.

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

“Fuck you, calling me Father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it…”

It happens for maybe ten minutes before it starts to stick out to her. Because it’s cold, as it always is on early-spring nights in London, and while they’re both fully dressed (unfortunately), neither is probably quite dressed enough to be out in a garden at this hour. And they’re a bit drunk—not that drunk, they’re both pretty practiced—on the G&Ts he’s so fond of for whatever reason. He specifically likes the kind you get already mixed in a can, which are especially shit, but it’s almost endearing that he likes those in particular. Well, very endearing actually. Goddamn this man—or… hmm, poor choice of words.

It doesn’t really grab her attention until he combines the sniffling with pinching his nostrils together.

“You alright, you’re quite sniffly?”

“I know, I dunno what’s going on,” he says, and punctuates it with a harsher sniffle than the ones previously unacknowledged, “Think ‘m just cold.” He zips his sweatshirt up a bit as if to illustrate.

“We could get you a blanket and swaddle you up like baby Jesus.”

He laughs. She extracts from her coat pocket a pack of cigarettes, takes one herself and angles the carton toward him in offering. Mostly because she wants him to scoot closer to her on the bench as she flicks the lighter for him. The flame illuminates the angles of his face in orange, the back of his fingers grazing her hand by happy accident, and yes, it’s a little pathetic that this momentary skin-to-skin contact is as erotic as it is to her, but that’s what you get when you fancy a priest isn’t it?

“They’re always describing him as being swaddled. Odd word, swaddled. Sounds kind of violent.”

“It does kind of,” he agrees, leaning back against the bench and exhaling a stream of smoke into the night air. Her plan worked, he’s ever so slightly closer to her now, post cigarette exchange, close enough that when he sniffles she can feel the slight vibration of his shoulders through the loose fabric on her coat sleeve. It unites them like an accidental spark of electricity she can sense just faintly enough to feel jumpy. Or turned on. Or both.

She really shouldn’t be this shameless about trying desperately to corrupt a man of the cloth she wants to get under. Maybe she’d feel properly guilty if she wasn’t quite so fucking horny.

“So you did read more than just the passages I marked for you?” He asks, at once surprised and pleased and maybe nervous, grinning but also looking away for a moment as if he could disguise all of that.

“Not really, just the birth of the ol’ lord and savior. It seemed like it’d be climactic.”

“Was it?”

“Can’t say I climaxed reading it, no,” she says with a cheeky look that elicits the laughter she’s looking for, “No offense but it’s really quite boring, this book you love so much.”

“Yeah… that’s a tragically common sentiment among reviewers.” He’s scratching at his nose with the back of one wrist with such intensity it’s unmistakeable how much it’s bothering him.

“Don’t care much for the writing style either, I have to say.”

If the irritation could be resolved with a mouse-like scrunch of the nose he’d have figured it out by now, and clearly he hasn’t because he still has to shrink into his crossed arms like an accordion with a fairly high-pitched, vocal and thus somehow Irish-accented, “Hehh-ishhYUE!”

“Bless. The only way I was able to get through it was by imagining you in every speaking role.”

It’s a sentence meant to provoke him, not unlike most of her sentences, and for a minute as her eyes are on her own exhaled smoke and he fails to respond, she wonders whether it sounded even weirder than she meant it, but as it turns out he’s just about to sneeze again — squinting into the distance and bringing an arm to his face in slow motion.

“Mmff-SHOO!” He blinks in surprise as he resumes his previous position on the bench, now shifted just a bit farther away from her. Damn.

“Ugh, sorry. Every speaking role?? Ohfuck— ahh-ishSHEU!”

“Jesus.”

“You imagined me as Jesus??”

“No I mean Jesus, are you okay, did you catch something?” Of course she imagined him as Jesus.

“Ooh I hope not,” he says with a nervous look, “that’d be lousy timing.”

“The lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Thuh-that he does—” A sudden inhale, a crooked arm rising at a much hastened speed. It begins in a manageable way, somewhat controlled, but then it seems to get away from him.

“Hh… hehd’SHHUE!”

“Bless you, Father."

He mumbles a thank you bookended by soft snuffling.

“Maybe he’s sent you a plague of sneezing. He does that sometimes doesn’t he? Send plagues?”

His face just scarcely conveys amusement before it’s hijacked again by the same expectant expression, but he still attempts to talk through it, even as irritation becomes evident in every feature. “S-sometimes…”

She thinks about saying bless you in advance but decides instead to just wait for him to succumb to it. A flicker of lashes, a reveal of the very tips of canines, his entire face crinkles around his visibly twitching nose. It pulls him downward and then forward in that order, as he collapses into a crooked arm as if stumbling despite being seated.

An especially desperate, “hehhSCHOO!” that begins quietly but certainly doesn’t end that way.

“God bless you, Father, again.”

“Wow,” he says with a sniff, knuckles swiping under his nose in a single smooth motion, “Maybe I’m allergic to you. My body’s having a reaction.”

“Is it?”

An eyeroll and a grin, and then he goes back to scratching at his aggravated face in a manner that’s becoming aggressive.

“Well stop manhandling your nose that’s clearly not working.” Before she can think better of it, she takes his elbow to pull the offending arm away from his face. She can feel his muscles tense with the movement, but when she looks up at him there’s only a blurry-eyed smile chased by a nervous huff of a laugh. Another line she can’t uncross but doesn’t particularly want to.

The therapist hadn’t needed to point out that her all-consuming attraction to someone she couldn’t have was probably a healthy coping mechanism of her recently adopted abstinence. She hadn’t really expected this though — for her advances to not be rejected entirely. She hadn’t planned for hope to cease feeling like such a daft, one-sided notion.

“Should I even be blessing you or is that overkill? Or am I even qualified to bless you? Can one bless a priest if they’re not like, anointed or something?”

“You can bless me,” he confirms, looking like he’s barely got a handle on controlling his own eyebrows. Or lips for that matter. God, that mouth, those lips. Parting by accident the way she’d like to make them open on purpose.

“Little greedy of you. You’re not blessed enough as is?”

“Neh—neverhurts…” He pitches sidewards with a slurred, tellingly tipsy, “hehh-ESHHyoooo!”

“Bless you…”

“Thank you,” he sniffles with embarrassed necessity, bringing the back of a sleeve to his nose.

“Hold on, I think I have some tissues,” she says as she feels around in her bag in the darkness, “Well, cocktail napkins at least.” Another knuckle brush as she hands them to him. How arousing. How pitifully arousing. She really should come up with ways to hand him things more often.

“Ahh you were holding out on me,” he says, and then after a gentle blow, “Sorry.”

“You are coming down with something aren’t you?"

He thinks about it, bringing the napkin away from his nostrils with a final follow-up dab. “I dunno, maybe?”

“Do you feel ill?”

“Mostly just very itchy.”

How many other chances will she get… She reaches a hand to gingerly press the back of her fingers against his forehead. He blinks a few times in response, rapidly and reflexively, and swallows back a smile. There’s a burning in her stomach that’s neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

“Um, you feel okay I think?” She says, attention course-corrected back to the cigarette crumbling in her hand, but still glancing at him to measure the aftermath of the relatively bold gesture and they lock smiling eyes in the process.

If he really wanted to ward her off he’s doing a phenomenally shitty job of it. She knows he wants her. God if only that was enough, to know he wanted her.

“I think you’re right I’ve been sent a plague of sneezing. Probably trying to tell me something.”

“Something about how your new friend could take care of you?”

He grins with half of his mouth. “Or something about how I probably shouldn’t be drinking G&Ts in the middle of the night with my new friend who I like a little too much.”

Oh he… really shouldn’t have given her that.

“ExxSHHUE!!” He shakes the whole bench with this, then straightens back up, not looking entirely recovered, and says almost to himself, “And about how I probably shouldn’t tell my new friend that I like them a little too much.”

“But you did anyway and he hasn’t, I dunno, smote you down yet.”

Irritation is still etched into his features, his chest slowly swelling with air, hastily fiddling with the napkins.

“Are you actually going to sneeze again? You haven’t finished?”

He shakes his head as his eyes close and seizes into a rushed, “hehESHHyue!"

“It’s a plague I can’t stop! Snf, it’s out of my hands."

She knows the night’s over, she does. She gets the sense that she’d been invited to overstay her welcome, but it’s getting past that point now. Whenever she leaves after being around him her face hurts from smiling like an idiot the whole time and she comes away aching in more ways than one. That ache is starting already, another sign they’ve stretched this interaction too long once again.

However, alcohol. “If you tell me to leave and you sneeze again perhaps we’ll know whether or not it was divine intervention.”

“He might just be punishing me now anyway,” he sighs, remembering a cigarette he may not have taken a single drag from, neglected and foreshortening in his fingers.

“We haven’t done anything we’re just talking. I’m a—what is it, parishioner?”

“That is a word, yes. Snf! Though it implies someone who’s actually going to church to, you know, practice their faith."

“I’m a parishioner here to…” she’s not even sure what to say, she still doesn’t know shit about Catholicism aside from the fact that it’s a massive cockblock, “seek your… counsel? Guidance? Guidance counseling.”

He puts a hand over part of his face, tired but amused. “You can’t act innocent even when you’re trying your best, can you?"

She almost snorts. Is this what he thinks trying her best looks like?—No, don’t actually say— “Who said I was trying my best?”

Why can’t she stop herself from saying things like that to him? The only thing that’s going to stop her now is a ‘no’ that’s actually firm enough not to give way when she presses against it relentlessly. He honestly needs to just get it over with before he really gives her too much to hold onto. She’s not going to win out over God, the guy’s pretty fucking stiff competition.

Goddamnit, just break her heart already, what the fuck is he waiting for? This should have ended ages ago, and now it’s getting dangerously close to too late.

Was it unfair to assume he’d be stronger than her? Or is he trying to hurt himself too? A duetted exercise in masochism, mutually assured destruc—

“—ESSHHYUE!” He looks at her through wet lashes, bleary and sheepish and drunk and cute and fuck.

She sighs loudly, looks skyward and says, “Right, you’ve made your point! I’m leaving!”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 14

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N:  hiya so before you start reading, if you’re not from the uk or interested in academic life in the uk, russell group is a very odd word. russell groups are what ivy leagues are in the us meaning it’s a group of very prestigious unis like cambridge, oxford and durham. just thought i should explain what it was so no one’s confused. also remember that weird episode carter baizen had a very badly made tattoo on his wrist? yeah that is mentioned here bc i basically decided that young seb acted like carter. sorry for taking longer than usual to post but i hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Don’t you wanna kiss me? - he caged her between the wall and him, hands resting on both side of her head. - Be honest. 

He was close enough so she could see every detail and texture of the skin of his face and feel his soft and controlled breathe. Y/N couldn’t help but touch his face, her fingers lingering on tiny little scar marks that seemed to have faded over the years but not enough to departure his face, to tracing his jaw to finally settling on his lips. Curiously, her thumb swiped down his lip almost as if she was trying to erase the fact that her own lips knew exactly what his felt like. 

There was this undeniable pull between the two of them that Y/N couldn’t deny existed, however, she was much too smart to give in again. She had plenty of examples where giving in to affections led to terrible fates beginning with Juliet and both hers and her beloved’s death and ending all the way with Anna Karenina jumping in front of a train. No, Y/N was much too smart to ignore what surrounded her. However, she was still a young woman and like so, she was no match for the rotten judgement that came along with her young years. Nevertheless, she pressed her body harshly against the wall, hoping that somehow she could merge with it and avoid the question that was being posed to her. 

    - Cat got your tongue, angel? - he questioned yet it didn’t sound like a mock as it sounded like a tease. - You can talk to me. I know you’ve missed me.

    - I don’t know what you’re talking about. - she turned her head to the side, hand clutching the towel for dear life. If there was something worse sounding than this situation was being naked in front of him, her friend’s fiancé. Sebastian smirked, noticing how she had bared her neck to him unknowingly giving a clear view of the bruises forming from last night. God, it was quite a sight, a sight he could get used to seeing every single day. 

He could just see it in front of him. Waking up every single morning to her already flushed cheeks in one of those sheer white pyjamas with her soft skin bruised from several nights of pure undecided pleasure. Y/N, on the other hand, was trying her best not to lower her hand to the skin showing through the V of his grey tee shirt which looked very inviting. Stop it, Y/N. You’re a smart woman, this is just the hormones speaking.

    - I was wondering if you’d accompany me for breakfast. There’s the little spot downtown I’m certain you’d enjoy. 

    - Did you ask Gwen? - her voice came uncertain almost paining her to mention Gwen in the middle of all of this. Gwen needed to be mention, they were gonna be married, they are gonna be married. That is certainty.

Sebastian stepped back as if he had been hit by lighting before sighing and leaving her be. Her loyalties lied way too deep with the Forrests and he wasn’t about to get her in trouble or do something she didn’t feel like doing. Y/N, on the other hand, watched the door like a hawk watching as he left with a sense of guilt she couldn’t deny. It was just a crush, she told herself, it was just a crush and crushes are normal. Single people crush on married ones all the time that does not mean they will try and ruin a wedding, not that Y/N could ruin something that wall already ruined. 

A single part of hers expected him to be teasing again and enter the room once more but he didn’t and after she spent a long while leaned against the wall as if some invisible force was holding her, Y/N decided it would be best if she got dressed and checked on Gwen, mostly to ensure the heiress was home. After she was in a long sweater accompanied by some black leggings, she followed the wall down to Gwen’s bedroom, knocking on the door rather loudly. 

From her knock, what sounded like a commotion could be heard from inside the heiress’ bedroom along with the sounds of feet paddling the ground until the door was opened. However, instead of Gwen standing there with her usual bed ridden eyes, it was her bodyguard who opened the door in a rather untidy way, carrying his trousers in hand. Y/N peeked inside the bedroom, an equally untidy Gwen with the sheets up to her collarbones waving goodbye at Christian.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep but Y/N was livid. She stomped into the bedroom, closed the door behind her and crossed her arms at the woman she had known since they were both born. 

     - Are you joking? - she questioned, attempting to sound annoyed but it came more as of a “again?” sort of inquiry. - You can’t do that under Sebastian’s roof when he’s at home. 

     - Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m careful. - she shrugged, her hand coming to push her own hair back which caused the sun to hit the gem on her engagement ring. God, she didn’t even take it off. - It’s not like he can kill me.

     - Genevieve, you’re engaged. You’re gonna be married and all you’re doing is acting like a teenager. God, I understand you don’t wanna get married to someone you don’t like but the least you can do is try to be his friend, at least. 

    - I don’t need friends like Sebastian and I also don’t need you to lecture me. 

    - Seems like you do considering you’ve been sleeping around ever since we came into this house when you’re engaged. - she pointed at the engagement ring on Gwen’s finger but she merely huffed as if Y/N was reprimanding her for something completely unnecessary.  - Gwen, your father asked ...

    - You’re just being jealous, Y/N. - the handmaid was stunned by those words. Jealous of what? - You’ve always been jealous. You’re jealous that no one has ever looked at you and now you’re trying to destroy my love life. 

    - You shouldn’t have a love life, you’re engaged. - Y/N tried to reason with the redhead but she was much to head strong to listen. - I’m done discussing this with you. 

    - Then do me a favour and stop giving your opinion on my engagement. 

    - I’m just try ...

    - Miss Forrest? - one of the maids knocked on the door, creaking it ever so slightly. - Your father’s here. 

    - My father? - Gwen furrowed her eyebrows, jumping from the bed with her sheets wrapped around her. - Why is my father hre?

    - I don’t know. - Y/N shrugged but her mind was certainly going haywire about what could it be. Had he gotten word she had kissed Sebastian? Was he here to fire her. She didn’t know.

    - Go distract him. - the heiress pushed Y/N out of the bedroom, locking the door behind her. 

The handmaid sighed, wondering if Mr. Forrest was in a good mood or if she was about to be fired. Maybe being fired was a good idea, that would mean she would be as far away from Sebastian as possible. However, little to no people get fired from mob related jobs even if they’re not complete associates. Instead they got to sleep with the fish and Y/N wasn’t a big fan of that. 

As she went down the stairs she could see Mr. Forrest in his signature black suit and red tie he had been wearing since he could remember. He always look sophisticated enough for you to wonder if he was some sort of professor in a Russell or Ivy League group. However, he had this air of familiarity which Sebastian lacked, making Sebastian a more austere person to look at. Maybe it was that Y/N had grown up around Mr. Forrest and not Sebastian, but Mr. Forrest was always very approachable. 

   - Y/N! - he smiled at the sight of the young handmaid. - What happened to your neck?

   - My neck? - her hand covered her neck as she realised what was in her neck in full display for everyone who was curious enough to look at. Oh fuck. - Oh ... I burned myself with a curling iron. 

   - Did they take you to the hospital? - he inspected the marks on her neck. 

   - No, Mr. Forrest, it is fine. I’ve done it before, it’ll be gone in a few weeks. - she smiled nervously. - So ... we weren’t expecting your visit today, Sir. Is there something the matter?

   - I need to speak with Mr. Stan about the Paris’ events. It was a clear lack of security and you two could’ve gotten harmed. 

   - But it was an ambush, sir. I don’t think it’s his fault. - she shifted her weight from feet to feet, eyes everywhere but his face. - Besides, his first worry was Genevieve. He rushed her out of the hotel once the shots were heard and none of us were harmed. 

   - Who protected you during the shot? 

   - My bodyguard. I think it is really unfair to blame Mr. Stan for something he wasn’t expecting, sir. Besides, he took care of Gwen. - she was lying but if she were to tell the father of the heiress that Sebastian had went to her instead of his daughter, they would both be axed off. Not that he would kill Sebastian, he would probably kill her and just yell at Sebastian which, honestly, would have little to no effect on him.

   - Living with Mr. Stan really hasn’t changed your forgiven nature, has it? - his expression softened, taking the weight of guilty out of Y/N’s back. - Nevertheless, there is still some affairs that need to be mentioned and discussed, specifically the wedding. 

   - He’s ready for you, sir. - Amelia spoke out and Mr. Forrest nodded his goodbye to Y/N. 

Y/N just stood there, sighing in relief that he seemed to not have any idea that she had locked lips with his daughter’s husband to be and that she had managed to grab Sebastian out of the madness that was him thinking Gwen had been alone. 

The young girl sat on the coach, thinking she could take this break to breathe without stress but Gwen soon came down the stairs with Christian behind her whose hand was resting in the back pocket of her jeans. Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing one of the books from the coffee table and opening it up. She? Jealous? Of what exactly? Just because she wanted them to at least be friendly with each other did not mean she was jealous of Gwen’s engagement. 

   - Where’s dad? 

   - He’s in a meeting with Sebastian. - Y/N didn’t even raise her eyes from her book, speaking with a rather bland voice. 

   - Being mad is childish, Y/N. - she shrugged, stepping to the kitchen to grab a tangerine. 

   - I’m not mad at you, Gwen. 

   - If you’re not mad at me then you can cover for me while I go shopping with Christian. - it wasn’t like Y/N was in the place to complain anymore so she just nodded, pulling her legs up so her feet were resting on the couch as she got lost in another one of Austen’s works.

Jane Austen was one of Y/N’s favourite writers despite many book snobs thinking it was overrated. This was mostly due to the intelligence that even subdued female characters seemed to hold and the way she described everything with just the right amount of detail to allow your mind to flow freely into her worlds. 

She was much too lost in Mansfield Park’s words to notice Sebastian and Mr. Forrest had walked down the stairs and were now in the living room. This was only brought to her attention once her name was called out by Mr. Forrest, inquiring about his daughter.

   - She’s still asleep. - she lied probably for the 100th time today. - Rough night. 

   - Still adapting to the mattress. - Sebastian added, certain that Y/N was covering for the heiress. 

   - Ah ... Y/N, I hope you and Gwen come to visit soon. The house has certainly loss youth ever since you two left. 

   - Of course, Mr. Forrest. - Y/N smiled, waving goodbye as he entered the lift, leaving Y/N and Sebastian in the living room. God, why was the universe still allowing them to be alone in closed environments?

   - The maid said you and Gwen were in a fight. Are you okay? - he asked but still kept his distance, the austere like posture still very much presence which was a far cry from the relaxed vibe he used to put out when with her. 

   - Yeah, she was just ... having a bit of fun with Christian. - Y/N put the book down on the coffee table, wrapping her arms around her knees which were folded close to her chest.

   -  I can have a word with her if it bothers you.

   - It doesn’t bother me. - once again lying. She would never admit it to herself but it bothered her that Gwen could go around being engaged and she couldn’t go around with Sebastian. Someone had to be the moral one. 

   - Sounds like it does, angel. - there it was, the nickname. - You sure you don’t want me to fire him?

   - No, I want you and Gwen to at least be friends. You’re gonna be married and if you’re not attracted to each other you could at least be friends. - Sebastian sat next to her on the luxurious leathered deep couch. 

   - You have to understand that people don’t get to marry because they’re friends or like each other in this sort of business. It’s not what we do.

   - Just because it’s what it’s done doesn’t been it should be done. Do you seriously want to be married for the rest of your life to someone you’re not even friendly with? 

   - In all honesty Y/N, me and Gwen won’t even live in the same house after we get married. She was to go to LA and I’ll let her go there, we just need to be married, not together or in love.

   -  I don’t wanna go to LA, it’s too hot. - she spoke out without even putting her thought through the rational part of her brain. - I’ve never left NY, I don’t wanna leave to go to LA. 

   -  Just quit. - he shrugged. - You do know you can quit your job and actually have a life right?

   -  People don’t quit the mob. 

   - You’re a handmaid, you’re not exactly part of the mob. Besides, you have a Cambridge degree you can get a job.

   -  I don’t have any experience besides I’ve never actually did anything other than this. I don’t have experience, I don’t have parents, I don’t have a family at all. - she grimaced at the thought but it was true. She never knew her parents and the only thing she had from them was the necklace from her mother, there was no other immediate family around or if there were Mr. Forrest always said they were dead. At the end of the day, she was by herself in a world that had been shielded away from her. What she knew was being by Gwen’s side and basically making sure she didn’t die. - I don’t have anything to inherit, I have a degree yes but I never actually worked a single day in my life. I don’t have enough money to make a downpayment on a home or to even rent in NY. God, I don’t even have enough money to buy a ticket to get out of NY. 

   - I’m sorry, Y/N. - he reached his hand out, caressing her jaw which led her to notice a dark mark on his wrist she hadn’t noticed before. 

   - Is that a tattoo? - her eyes lit with curiosity. - I’ve never noticed that before. When did you got a tattoo?

   - When I was 16. Me and my friends faked our parents signatures and got it done at a weird place downtown. My father was livid and I’m pretty sure he died still mad about it. 

   - Well, it does look very bad. - she bite her lip to hold in a laugh. 

   - Stop biting your lip, angel. - he said in a warning tone, hand lowering to one of the hickeys near her collarbone. - You are tempting me. 

   - You should learn to control yourself then. 

   - I don’t know if I wanna control myself around you.

   - I think we suffer from the same thing, then ... Sir.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld​ @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan

[numbaoneflaya]

I got a lot for you, you don't have to answer all of these 💀. 2, 4, 8, 21, 35, and 50 for Jilly. 3, 7, 10, 41, and 64 for Valkya. And 6, 7, 14, 25, and 52 for Mike. And a large fry 😁

I FINALLY DID ITTTTTT IM SORRY FOR THE WAIT!! all under the cut bcs ofc its LONG

JILLY

2. What are their favourite possessions? Why? (sentimentality, history, price, etc)

-She has 2 stuffed ferrets shes had since she was little :) she calls them stinker and slinker and she loves them so much. Also a collection of friendship bracelets she pretty much makes matching ones for everyone she likes and wears them in rotation.

4. Are they a good gift-giver? What do they tend to give as gifts? -Jilly LOVES gift giving bcs she naturally hoards and steals shit and then ends up with too much shit, so what better to do with it than give to friends?? You're likely to get anything she can swipe that reminds her of u. Tries to vary it to suit whoever shes giving a gift to but her go to is something like stuffed animals and jewelry bcs thats what she likes best

8. What does their dream house look like?

-She would like an at home gym with giant climbable pillars and hoops and obstacles, or just a house with a lot of land and forest she can run around in. She's also way a fan of hidden passages and secret hiding places, anything she can snoop and weasel around in. No scary basement tho

21. What’s their ideal date like?

-Carnival or theme park! Anything with lots of action and noise and prizes. Shed want to play all the games for hours straight and go on all the biggest rides.

36. Do they trust easily? What would you have to do to earn their trust?

-Yes she trusts easily :/ mayhaps too easily. Her way of thinking is innocent until proven guilty and even then, it takes a looooot to make her start to doubt someone because she wants to believe everyone has good intentions. To earn her trust, being nice to her and other ppl is the easiest way, but she's also prone to trust you if you seem secure somehow or just in charge like a position of authority.

50. Why would they be a good partner for a road trip?

-Snacks. On demand. She packs every snack and drink you could ever hope for and stashes up on blankets and pillows too. The type to wanna play my spy and car games and to sing along really loudly to music. WILL stick her head out the window sometimes. Will want to stop at every roadside attraction. Just for fun the reason she might be a bad roadtrip partner is that she talks a lot. And will be loudly singing and sticking her head out the window. And after a while the car will start to smell vaguely of ferret and she might shed.

--------

VALKYA

3. Do they get jealous easily? If so, what usually causes it?

-Shes really not a jealous person at all, especially not romantically. Shes pretty chill in general. Even so, some times she gets jealous of all the time other people get to spend with Naryu. If Valkya feels like someone else is being prioritized over her shes more likely to act out like a baby ggdghdf

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person?

-Women who could kill her and men who are pathetic, but shes open to anything. Has a thing for nerds, goths, vampires, werewolves, short people, assassins, and most importantly people who are easy to fluster. She will bone anything that moves

10. What’s a simple thing that brings them joy?

-Finishing a good book, especially a series. When shes not in life threatening danger or fucked up out of her mind shes a pretty avid reader. She likes having the free time to sit around a fireplace and snuggle up with a book, though she'll deny it if caught and say she doesnt know how to read hgfdgsd.

41. What would they dress up as for Halloween?

-Demetria 💀 shed just steal her clothes and stretch TF out of em gsdgdfhsd. Or dress up as herself bcs who needs originality when your famous?

64. Describe what their social media would be like.

- Random memes from the last century all mixed up, millions of selfies and nudes out of nowhere. Drunk posting at 4 am and getting into fights w Dem over dumb shit, subtweeting everyone to start drama. Has thousands of followers and does giveaways of shit she finds lying around her house for no reason but shes bored

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

MIKE

6. Do they prefer to have a big social circle, or a few close friends?

-Shed prefer to have a few close friends as long as they ride or die. Most likely die tho. Shes desperate for frienship shell stalk someone to get to know them really well and then delude herself into thinking theyr besties. Sometimes it doesnt go well but she still gets a meal out of it even if shes sad

7. What’s their “type”? What romantically attracts them to another person?

-Someone who looks like they're up for fun! Really into alt fashion and people who seem like they dont give a shit. Confidence, fighters, rebels, anyone she can party hard with. Likes people who are interesting and is especially interested in befriending other killers, they have so much to bond about!

14. Who do they go to in a crisis/emergency? Any particular reason why they choose that person?

-Probably Zeke tbh. Since she turned him hes like the only other vamp besides prim she knows and hes always pretty level headed. Probably goes to him for advice on how to make friends and hes like “maybe dont break into ppls houses and drain their victims out of nowhere :/” and shes like “that was ONE TIME and it worked!!”

25. What are their dreams like?

-All chaotic! Theres seldom ever a storyline or anything, just bright colors and random things happening and an overlying sense of panic or dread. Like those images you look at to understand what having a stroke is like, everything is off color and melting and shes usually running away from something. Typically nightmares but about nothing in particular, just disconnected sounds shapes and figures.

52. What topic should nobody bring up around them, lest the other person be subject to a massive ramble/rant?

-ANYTHING to do with twilight. She knows everything about it. Has seen and read is 12 times over and can quote it directly at any time, do not attempt to argue twilight with her. Diehard team Edward forever. If your tied up and somehow the topic of it comes up just pray she kills you soon bcs she will go on for hours and bring out her annotated copies and force you to go through them with her.

[silverlightqueen]

Song Request

'I just wish the cost of her happiness wasn’t my own.’

Jungkook x reader - smut, angst, a little bit of fluff, a pathetic attempt at some humour and a bit of cheese lmao

Part of ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo!

Rating: 18 (graphic sex and mature themes)

Word Count: 11.5k+ 

Warnings - there’s quite a few, please read carefully! infidelity, illness (Parkinson’s disease) and discussion of death, brief mention of drugs, dom!JK and sub!reader, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), pain kink, brief asphyxiation, JK has a big cock (and tattoos), hickeys, explicit dirty talk, degradation and praise, multiple orgasms, fingering, (ridiculously) rough sex, (kind of) soft sex, sad sex, brief mention of punishment, impregnation kink, possessiveness, hand-holding during sex, semi-toxic relationship, I think that’s it but please let me know if you notice that I missed something!

a/n: hey guys !! this is my first Bulletproof Bingo fic and I’m super excited to write some more fics for this event! I really like this fic, it’s one of my favourites that I’ve ever written, so I hope you all really enjoy it too! thank you to the love of my life @silverlightprincess for proof-reading this at 2am this morning and making me even more excited to post it by saying it’s one of the best things I’ve ever written (you’re the best and I love you). I’m like 99.999% sure that I’m gonna do a part two to this so please lmk if you like it bc it will motivate me to actually write the part two lol x

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘You really shouldn’t be here,’ I sigh as I lean against the doorframe, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. ‘I know but… I had to come. I had to see you one more time,’ he says gently, and I look down either side of the corridor to make sure it’s empty before I let him in. The hotel is crawling with our friends and family, and I’m sure they’d have some questions seeing Jungkook outside of my room.

I move to the side, and I can sense the grin on his face without even looking up at him as he brushes past me. I shut the door behind him, and when I turn back around, he’s sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at me. He’s dressed in a loose white t-shirt, revealing the black ink curling up his hands and arms, and a pair of grey sweatpants, the black Gucci sliders that I bought him for his last birthday on his feet.

‘Have you been crying?’ he asks, voice soft, and I nod, feeling the tears flooding my eyes again. ‘Oh, baby, please don’t cry. It breaks my heart when you cry,’ he says, voice strained, and he holds out a hand to me. Every time he does this, the voices in my head get louder, and it’s an internal struggle to see what I’ll do.

‘Don’t do this again.’ ‘You’ve done it before, one more time won’t make a difference.’ ‘You’re only hurting yourself, making it worse for yourself.’ ‘He’s hurting, and you can take his pain away.’ ‘He can’t love you.’ ‘He loves you.’

And the same voice always wins.

I put my hand in his, the familiar smirk appearing on his face, like he knew what I’d do, like he always knows what I’ll do. He tugs my hand, pulling me towards him, and he spreads his legs, allowing me to stand between them. He tilts his head back to look up at me (though he’s not much shorter – these hotel beds are ridiculously high), and lifts his hands to wipe away the tears running down my face.

‘Don’t cry,’ he whispers again, before pulling me against him, his strong tattooed arms holding me close, his face buried in my chest as I wrap my arms around his shoulders. ‘Will you let me make it better?’ he asks, voice muffled against the white satin of my dressing gown, the words ‘Bride Squad’ embroidered across the back of it, and I hesitate, the voices getting louder again.

‘You can stop. You can turn him away.’ ‘What’s the point? You’ve done this so many times before.’ ‘This time’s different, and you know it is.’ ‘This might be your last time. Why would you turn him away?’ ‘Be the good person. Don’t do this.’ ‘You deserve one last time.’

‘Please,’ I breathe out, and his fingers tug at the belt of my gown, letting it fall open, and he sucks in a breath. ‘White lingerie? Anyone would think you’re the bride,’ he whispers, fingers skimming over my exposed skin before he pushes the gown off my shoulders. His words hurt, and he knows they do, but I shake them off. ‘I was trying it on, ready for tomorrow. I have to wear white, because of my dress,’ I say evenly, and his eyes flit up to where my dress hangs up on the outside of the wardrobe.

‘Such a pretty dress. I love you in blue,’ he murmurs, my heart fluttering at the praise. ‘Get on the bed for me, angel,’ he says, words laced with dominance, and I instantly lie on the bed beside where he sits. He doesn’t waste much time, getting up and shrugging off his t-shirt before climbing over me, lips ghosting over my neck and jaw.

‘Don’t you dare put marks on me,’ I say as my fingers tangle into his soft curly locks, and he chuckles against my skin. ‘Can’t you just cover them up with makeup?’ ‘No, the makeup will rub off onto my dress.’ ‘What if I put marks on your boobs? No one will see them there,’ he says, lips trailing down to my collarbones. ‘But it hurts.’ ‘You like it when it hurts, baby,’ he says with a raised eyebrow, looking up at me, and I roll my eyes. He takes that as a sign to do as he pleases, hands sliding beneath my back to unclasp my bra, pulling the straps off my arms and throwing it over his shoulder. His head ducks down to my breasts, and he doesn’t take care to be gentle, biting and sucking on the skin harshly, coaxing shaky breaths and whimpers from me.

Once he’s deemed the faint marks that are beginning to appear sufficient, his lips trail further down my body. ‘So pretty. You’re so pretty,’ he mumbles against me, my skin tingling where he touches it. His movements become more and more desperate with each moment, as though he’s scared I’m going to leave, but we both know I’m not going anywhere.

‘What’d you want, baby?’ he asks, like he always does, and I sigh, because he already knows. ‘You. I want you,’ I breathe out, and he stills with his lips on the seam of my pants. ‘Be more specific, angel.’ ‘For fuck’s sake, JK, I want your cock,’ I say, voice laced with desperation, and he chuckles against the white lace. ‘Gotta get you wet first,’ he says, and a breath escapes my lips as he looks up at me, lip caught between his teeth, eyes dark with desire. ‘You want that, baby? Want me to eat you out?’ he asks, and I nod, before whispering, ‘yes… please.’

‘Whatever you want, angel,’ he says, pulling my pants down my legs, leaving me fully exposed to his hungry eyes, the desire in his gaze making me shiver. He spreads my legs before lifting them, moving closer to me and letting them fall over his shoulders, giving him total access to where I need him most. He swipes the pad of his finger against my folds, a shaky breath falling from my lips as he holds his finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste, and he lets out an appreciative hum.

‘Taste so good. Better than her,’ he says, unable to help himself like always, and I freeze. He knows it hurts when he does this, and he does it anyway, because it inflates his ego every time. ‘What the fuck, JK?’ I spit, moving my legs from his shoulders and recoiling in on myself. He lets out a gentle chuckle, leaning on his forearms, as he looks up at me, not one hint of guilt in his face. No, he’s lucky. I’m the one that gets all the guilt.

‘It’s not funny. I hate it when you do that, Kook,’ I mumble, and a little grin appears on his lips. ‘Sorry, baby,’ he says, words dripping with amusement, not even trying to be sincere. ‘Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,’ I spit, and his grin grows even wider. ‘Bastard,’ I mutter, and he lets out another chuckle, seeming to find this situation hilarious, when in actuality, it’s far from it.

Silence falls over the room, his eyes on me, as I stare unseeingly at my hands. I really hate him sometimes. How can he be so bold to joke about this, when it’s so wrong? I will myself to have the strength to send him back to his room, to tell him to just go fuck himself, but I know I never will, and he knows it too, which is why he insists on pushing the boundaries. According to him, guilty sex is the best sex. How he knows that, I’m not sure. He never seems to feel the guilt that practically eats me up.

This is always the worst bit. I’ve done this enough times to know how this goes, to know the stages of our time together. He lures me in with sweet compliments and sad eyes, before he pulls some kind of dick move, to test me. To give me an out. Though we both know I’ll never take it. I’m never strong enough. And then he gives a pitiful attempt at making it up to me.

‘Are you done sulking yet, or should I just go?’ he says, and my eyes flit up to meet his, dark and chocolaty, smooth and bright. I stare at him for a few moments, waiting for him to melt and apologise properly, wondering if he will this time.

‘I’m sorry, y/n. I know I shouldn’t joke, but it makes it easier for me,’ he says, sounding sincere, yet his eyes are unreadable, making it difficult to tell whether he’s saying it because he’s sorry or because I’m naked in front of him and his dick is straining against his boxers. ‘But it makes it harder for me,’ I say, almost pleadingly, though my words may be falling on deaf ears. It’s hard to tell when he’ll listen to me, actually truly listen to me, and take my words on board, or whether he’ll pretend as though he has so that he can get his dick wet.

It’s hard to tell whether he loves me sometimes.

‘I know, baby, I’m sorry, I really am. I won’t do it again, I promise,’ he says softly, and I nod, wondering how long it’ll take him to break his promise again. We sit in silence for a few more moments, and I can’t tear my eyes away from his. ‘You forgiven me yet?’ he asks, all of the false remorse gone from his face now, replaced by an amused smirk and dark eyes. And I want to be angry at him, I really do. But my will to feel him is stronger. ‘Mmhmm,’ I reply, and he grins, reaching an inked-up hand out to my leg, and pulling me down the bed.

As soon as I’m lying down, he’s on top of me again, his lips meeting mine for the first time since he entered the room. No one has ever kissed me better than Jungkook, and I very much doubt anyone ever will. His lips are soft, yet his mouth is rough against mine, his tongue gliding over my own, making me number with every movement. And when he pulls one of my lips between his teeth, so hard he draws blood, it’s game over, my mind turning to mush as he laves his tongue over where blood blooms from my sensitive skin. If kissing were a sport, Jungkook would win first place, like he does with everything else.

But it doesn’t last for long. Whilst he’s an expert at pretty much everything, he loses interest quicker than children do. Even more so when I’m moaning against his mouth and grinding up into him desperately. He breaks away from me, lips taking the same path down my body as a few moments ago, but this time, he reaches his destination. As though he can’t waste another moment, he throws my legs over his shoulders and licks a broad stripe up my slit.

‘So wet for me, angel. Always so wet for me,’ he exhales, warm breath fanning out over where I need him most, and I let out a desperate moan. ‘You want my mouth?’ he asks teasingly, and I nod, looking down at him impatiently, his eyes shining with mischief. ‘Beg.’ I let out a frustrated sigh, hating that he pushes me so far, so stubborn that he’ll never be the one to give in because he knows that I will. I always will.

‘Jungkook, please. Need your mouth, need you to make me cum,’ I plead, tone lined with defeat, and he gives me an impish grin before his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He ducks his head but doesn’t do anything, and my fingers tangle into his hair to prompt him. ‘Such a pretty pussy, baby,’ he compliments, and I eat it up, letting his shitty generic praise soothe my pain.

‘Jungkook, please,’ I whisper again, and he chuckles before his tongue dips between my folds. I let out a broken moan as the pleasure builds, his ministrations making me squirm beneath him. ‘So sensitive for me,’ he says against me, lips enveloping my heat, tongue poking between my folds before he moves to suck at my clit, teeth scraping against the bud to push me even further.

‘Yes, fuck, feels so good,’ I whine, voice shaky as I run my nails over his scalp, head falling back into the pillow, back arching up into the cool breeze blowing in from the open balcony doors. His hands slide under my lower back and he pulls me even closer towards him, trying desperately to get deeper and deeper, suffocating himself with me.

‘Oh. Oh, God,’ I breathe out, and he hums into me, the vibrations sending a wave of bliss washing over me, and I let out a moan of his name. And that’s what pushes him, what always pushes him. He loves his name on my lips, and he loses all restraint, lapping, no, slurping at me with desperation. Every movement is greedy, desperate, full of lust so strong it seeps into me too, loud moans and obscene squelching filling the room.

His tongue delves into me, nose nestling against my clit, and it’s euphoria, absolute euphoria, my hands tugging at his hair to bring him closer, impossibly closer, and he complies, making me whimper with delight. And then his movements begin to slow, and I know where this goes.

‘So good. Tastes so good. So sweet for me, baby,’ he says when he breaks away, the bottom half of his face shining with my essence, lips drenched with me. He doesn’t even give me a chance to plead, to complain, to beg him, before his index finger begins teasing at my clit, flicking the bud gently. Slowly, impossibly slowly, his finger trails down to my folds before pushing between them, and my walls tighten around the digit.

‘Stop clenching. If you can’t take one finger, how will you take my cock? Huh? Gotta stop clenching,’ he murmurs, voice soothing as his finger pumps in and out leisurely, and I nod, my hands falling from his head and clutching at the sheets instead. He gradually speeds up, his finger being joined by another and making me whimper, body shuddering as he scissors his fingers, attempting to stretch me open.

Without warning, he ducks his head to suck at my clit, and I cry out as his fingers fuck into me, my body working of its own will to get away from him because it just feels too damn good, so good it hurts. ‘Stop moving, or I’ll spread you over my lap instead. I might not have my belt, but my hand works just fine,’ he threatens, lips moving against my clit, and I tense, trying not to move.

‘I’m gonna…’ I trail off, biting down onto my lip, my eyes screwed shut as he curls his fingers against my soft walls. ‘You’re gonna cum? Is that right, angel?’ he asks, and I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth to reply, knowing only moans of his name will come out, and it’s too dangerous. Her room is right across the hall.

And then he adds another finger, the three digits stretching me wider, so wide it hurts. I let out a whimper of pain, and he chuckles, his breath fanning out over my stomach. ‘Don’t complain, baby, you like it when it hurts. My little slut can only get off if it hurts, right?’ he asks, fingers ramming into me without any concern for how it hurts, hurts so fucking bad. So bad it has me balling the sheets up into my fists, my back arching up from the bed, moans falling from my lips, so desperate for more. ‘Cum for me, baby,’ he whispers, before attaching his lips to my clit again, his fingers curling one last time, drawing an incredibly intense orgasm out of me.

My entire body tenses as I let out a long, drawn-out moan, his fingers and mouth still working to prolong my high, and I clench around him, so tight his fingers are caught inside me. Once he feels me coming down, relaxing around his digits, he practically rips them out of me, a shudder racking through my body as I watch him lick my cum off his tattooed skin.

‘I’m so hard, so fucking hard for you,’ he spits out, his body radiating frantic energy as he pushes himself up from the bed, hastily pushing his sweatpants down his legs, quickly followed by his underwear, his hard length slapping up to hit his stomach, red and swollen and leaking with precum. The desperation in every movement of his tells me that this is the moment he’d do anything I asked of him. The moment he loves me most.

He climbs back onto the bed, hovering over me again, and surprises me by pressing his lips to mine again. Usually, nothing comes before his cock filling me up, but I’m pleasantly surprised at the kiss, no matter how sloppy it is. I can taste myself in his mouth, my own essence dancing across my taste buds, and his hands dig into my sides so hard I know they’ll bruise.

‘Why is your hair in braids? I like pulling your hair when it’s out,’ he murmurs against my mouth, sounding like a little kid, his words making me laugh. ‘She prefers my hair wavy, said wavy hair looks prettier with flowers in it,’ I reply, lips moving against his as I speak, and he laughs. ‘Flowers in your hair, huh? Gives me something pretty to look at when you get on your knees for me tomorrow,’ he says, words dripping with arrogance, and I pull away from him, annoyed.

‘What? Oh, sorry. You’re the pretty thing I’ll be looking at, not the flowers,’ he grins proudly, completely misreading me, and I let out a huff. ‘I’m not sucking you off tomorrow,’ I say, and he frowns, eyes still full of amusement. He seems to find everything endlessly funny. ‘Why not, baby? You owe me.’ ‘You know why not. This is the last time, Jungkook,’ I say, and he doesn’t react for a few moments, just staring at me unreadably, before he rolls his eyes, a grin spreading across his lips. ‘Okay. Let’s make it a good one, then,’ he whispers, eyes darkening, a fresh wave of arousal flooding out from my core as I nod, Jungkook pressing a brief kiss to my lips.

‘Hands and knees, angel,’ he instructs, moving off me to stand beside the bed, and I grin to myself, hastily turning onto my front. My hands and knees dig into the mattress, a little shaky with how weak my body is after my orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice – or doesn’t care about – how tired I am, just teasing my folds with the tip of his rock-hard cock. ‘No condom?’ I ask breathlessly, and he chuckles before pushing the tip in, stretching me out with a deliciously painful burn. ‘Fuck a condom. Wanna feel you clench around my fat cock. Gonna fuck a baby into you,’ he spits out, his words making me gush around him as I let out a breathy moan, and he chuckles.

‘My little slut loves the sound of that, huh? You want my baby? Wanna be nice and round with my baby?’ he asks, voice harsh and low, but I’m struggling to focus on his words, my mind occupied by the feeling of his tip inside me. ‘Answer me, or the tip is all you’ll get. I can cum easily; it’s harder for you,’ he threatens, and I know he’d make good of it too. ‘Yes, yes, want your baby, JK, please fuck me, need your cock,’ I say mindlessly, the words just falling from my lips without thought because I’m so desperate that my entire body aches for him.

‘Good girl. That’s my good girl. My pretty little baby,’ he says, voice soft and soothing, and I’ve gotten used to how quick his entire disposition switches, the change no longer giving me whiplash like it used to. He slowly sinks into me, the painful stretch prompting a sob to be torn from my throat, and he rubs my back soothingly as he bottoms out. ‘So big,’ I whimper, and he chuckles. ‘Mmhmm, my cock’s way too big for you, but you take it so well, angel, so fucking well,’ he praises as he stays still inside me, allowing me to adjust.

‘Please, JK, move,’ I plead, and his hands stop rubbing, gripping onto my waist instead. ‘Sure?’ he asks, though I can feel that he’s practically itching to fuck me. ‘Yes, need you,’ I breathe out, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer, pulling out of me before slamming back in, winding me. He’s ruthless, pounding into me so hard that his balls slap against my thighs, hands digging into my waist, both our skin damp with sweat.

I arch my back, and he leans forward over me, grabbing my two French braids in one hand, tugging on them to hold my head up, the pull only slightly painful. He fucks into me, hard, with no restraint, my head bent back at an uncomfortable angle, my moans projecting around the room. ‘Does my slut like it when I fuck you like this? Like it when I fuck you like the little bitch you are?’ he asks, my moans answer enough it seems, a strained chuckle falling from his lips.

He props one foot up on the bed, allowing him to hammer into me at a bruising pace, cock filling me up completely, having me completely blissed out. ‘You take my cock so well, angel, so fucking well. You take it like a little slut,’ he breathes out between grunts, and it’s forceful, it’s vicious, it’s primal the way he’s fucking me, so good I can’t think of anything but him, and how fucking amazing his cock is.

My arms give way before I can realise how much they ache, and I fall face first into the sheets. ‘Oh, baby, are you tired?’ he asks gently, his cock stilling inside me, and I try to lift myself back up, desperate to feel him again. ‘No, stop,’ he says, turning me over, his dick slipping out in the process. When I’m on my back, I look up at him and my heart flutters. His dark hair is damp and curly, his pupils completely blown out with lust, his lips pink and swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his entire body covered in a sheen of sweat.

He pauses for a moment, eyes flitting over my body like how an artist admires their work, and I know he’s revelling in how fucked out I am, how wrecked he’s made me, my chest heaving and my entire body radiating hot desire. And there’s something in his eyes, something else, something different. Something affectionate, soft, sad. And that feeling seeps into me, knowing that this is the last time I can feel his touch, the last time I can get tangled up with him in the sheets.

The moment passes and his eyes harden once more, his hands sliding beneath my slick body and lifting me up into his toned arms, my legs coming up around his waist instinctually. He carries me over to the door, his strength astounding me all over again, my fingers running over the ridges of his muscles. He pushes me up against the door, my legs still clamped around him, and his hands roam over my body.

‘Won’t someone hear if you fuck me here?’ I ask, my lips against his collarbones, and he chuckles. ‘That’s the whole point. Isn’t her room right across the hall? Maybe she can learn what good sex sounds like,’ he says amusedly, and my heart doesn’t sink this time. It was only a matter of time before he brought her up again. In all honesty, it took him longer than I expected.

He doesn’t even give me a chance to reply before he sinks into me, my face contorting with pleasure beneath his intense gaze. He pulls out, still watching my reactions, before pushing back in at an agonisingly slow pace. He rocks into me, cock dragging against my walls leisurely, and I can feel it even more like this, can feel every inch filling me up and stretching me out.

‘Fuck, so good, so fucking good,’ I moan loudly, and he pushes two fingers into my mouth. ‘Gotta be quiet. We’ll get a noise complaint, and I don’t wanna rush. Like taking my time with you, like ruining you slowly, like making you a fucked out little bitch desperate for my cock. Isn’t that what you want, angel? Want me to fuck you nice and slow?’ he whispers against my ear, and I let out a moan around his fingers, gushing all over his thighs.

He takes this as a yes, grinning devilishly as he fucks me deep, swollen head scraping against the soft spongy spot inside me, and I whimper and whine around his fingers as he lets out sinfully soft grunts and groans against my neck. He’s usually so rash, so hasty, so eager, very rarely fucking me slow like this, both of us savouring every thrust.

I clench around him and he grins, bringing a tattooed hand to rest at the base of my neck, fingers still in my mouth. ‘Feels good?’ he asks, and I nod enthusiastically, a little laugh falling from his lips. ‘Of course it does. No one can fuck you like this. No one can fuck you like I fuck you. My good little slut, only mine. I own you, baby. This pussy is mine,’ he whispers, the dirty words combined with the slow drags of his cock against my walls making me sob around his fingers, a grin spreading across his lips.

His hand around my neck tightens, cutting off my airways slightly, and I let out an unintelligible string of curses around his fingers, my breathing quickly becoming laboured. I clench around him sporadically, quickly feeling my high approaching, and he can feel it too, his hands disappearing from my neck and mouth, coming to rest at my waist instead.

‘So pretty, baby, so beautiful and good for me. Love your pussy, feels so good. Love having sex with you. So lucky I get to touch you, taste you, fuck you,’ he whispers between groans, and I let out whimpers at his words.

His touches across my body are featherlight and soft, his thrusts slow and deep, and he breathes out compliments and gentle words against my skin. And then I realise that he’s no longer fucking me. He’s making love to me.

He leans forward, capturing my lips with his in a kiss, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders, hands tangling into his hair. I feel myself reaching my climax quicker than ever as our lips move together, tongues and teeth clashing in the desperate and passionate kiss. He swallows my moans, and when they get more and more frequent, he breaks away from me.

‘Close, angel?’ he asks, and I nod, my eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his body rolling against mine, thrusts slow and deep. ‘So close, baby, feels so good. So fucking good, Jungkook,’ I breathe out and his hand reaches down to rub at my clit as he continues thrusting into me, the tip dragging against the soft spongy part inside me. The feeling is so euphoric, the pleasure rendering my mind black of everything but Jungkook, my body melting into his, our chests pressed together.

‘Come on, baby, cum for me. Wanna feel you clenching around me, baby, you’re so close. Cum for me, angel,’ he whispers into my ear before pressing his lips to mine, these soft and loving words so unlike anything he’s ever said to me before that they push me over the edge as I let out a loud moan of his name against his mouth, as a mind-numbing orgasm washes over me.

My vision turns blank, head empty as white noise fills my ears, pussy clenched around him in a vice-like grip, and he continues to rub at my clit to draw out the pleasure. Once I feel myself coming down, I pull his hand away before interlocking it with mine, a smile breaking across his face as our eyes lock together in a gentle gaze.

‘I love you, y/n,’ he whispers softly, and the words bring tears to my eyes, because I’ve never heard him say them before. Not to me, anyway. His smile falls slightly when I don’t answer, my whole body frozen, before I reply without even thinking; ‘I love you, too, Jungkook.’

His smile reappears with force, filling his face with such joy that it makes the tears spill out over my cheeks as I laugh. ‘I love you. I fucking love you, y/n. I love you so much,’ he whispers again and again, both of us completely still, our hands still locked together.

My walls still flutter around him with the aftershocks of my orgasm. ‘Shall I stop? Are you too sensitive?’ he asks, my heart melting as more tears run down my face. ‘No, want you to cum,’ I reply, and he lets out a curse, beginning to thrust into me again.

I keep clenching around him involuntarily, and I reach down my free hand to play with his balls, my other hand still in his tight grip. ‘Come on, baby, you’re so close. Cum for me,’ I whisper before pressing my lips to his briefly, digging my heels into his back to hold him in place, deep inside me, his dick twitching. He buries his head into my neck and lets out a strangled moan of my name as he cums inside me, painting my walls with his hot, thick release. His hips stutter as he tries to prolong his orgasm, my hand still playing with his balls, his whole body tense.

Once he’s come down from his orgasm, his body relaxes and I remove my hand from his balls, my other hand still clasped in his and his head still nestled in my neck. He wraps his arms around me, carrying me over to the bed and laying me down carefully before disappearing into the bathroom. He comes back a few moments later with a towel and some water, and he cleans me up with a loving gaze as I sip down the water.

Once he’s deemed his cleaning sufficient, he throws the towel across the room, both of us laughing gently, before his face becomes a little more serious. ‘I wasn’t just saying it, y/n. I do love you,’ he says, the thrill of the words not quite old yet. ‘I know. And I love you too,’ I say, the smile on his face mirrored on my own.

Before we both realise the weight of what we’re saying, and it hits us like a ton of bricks. This is worse than the usual comedown, much worse. All the previous times, it’s been easier, because it’s hard to love someone when their words and touches are full of lust and nothing more. But this time…. I could feel the love, in every single movement, in every touch, in every word. Yeah, this comedown hurts.

I open my mouth to speak, though I’m not sure what I’m going to say, but he shakes his head. ‘Don’t. Save it for the morning. I just want to be normal now. Can we do that? Can we just pretend to be a normal couple, pretend that you love me, and I love you, and that’s all there is?’ he asks, desperation in his voice, in his eyes, his face, his entire body, different from the desperation we both felt a little while ago, and I nod. ‘We can do that.’

He smiles, the most beautiful smile I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, before he leans towards me, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. The kiss instantly deepens into something passionate, something soft, something full of love, and our arms wrap around each other as we fall back onto the bed, our limbs tangled together.

‘Don’t go,’ I whisper against his lips, ‘please don’t go. Stay the night.’ ‘I’m not going anywhere, baby,’ he whispers back, holding me in a tight grip, and I could live the rest of my life like this, in his arms, with his lips on mine. ‘I’m right here.’

‘y/n, so help me, if you don’t answer the fucking door!’ Jisoo’s shrill shriek breaks through my slumber, quickly followed by her fists hitting the door, making both Jungkook and I wake the fuck up. ‘Shit. Go hide,’ I whisper, pushing him out of the bed, and he gets out, still half asleep. ‘Bathroom?’ he asks groggily, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on. ‘No, balcony, she might need to use the bathroom,’ I say, and he sighs, rushing out onto the balcony and hiding around the corner where he isn’t visible through the doors.

I jump out of bed, grabbing my underwear and his clothes and shoving them into the wardrobe before I shrug on my white satin gown, quickly tying it as I kick his sliders under the bed. ‘y/n!’ Jisoo practically screams, and I wrench the door open, faced with Jisoo who holds a fist up, ready to bang on the door again. She jumps at the sight of me before huffing, pushing past me into the room. ‘What took you so long?’ she asks, and I sigh, shutting the door and going to sit at the foot of the bed. ‘I was, like, in such a deep sleep. Sorry,’ I say, and she shrugs. ‘It’s fine. I thought you’d disappeared or something,’ she says, and I let out a gentle laugh.

She’s in her white dressing gown too, white sliders on her feet, and her hair is already styled into an updo at the back of her head, a couple of loose curls framing her face with a few small blue flowers dotted around her head. ‘Your hair looks really pretty,’ I say, and she preens at the praise. ‘Thanks. I had to wake up so early, because the stylist has to do everyone else’s too. You’re lucky you can do your own hair,’ she says, and I grin, trying to ignore the panic in my veins, still half-asleep.

‘How did you sleep?’ I ask, and she huffs again, scowling. ‘Not well. Someone was having some loud ass sex. It must have been a couple in the room above me, because it was so fucking loud. Poor girl was nearly screaming – sounded like a pornstar, but real. I bet we’ll be able to spot her around the hotel today, barely able to walk,’ she chuckles, and I hope my face doesn’t betray me as I laugh along, my cheeks heating up.

‘Did you hear it?’ she asks, and I shake my head, feigning cluelessness. ‘No. It must have been above you ‘cause I couldn’t hear a thing. Or I just slept like a log,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘So lucky. You’ve always been a deep sleeper. You could sleep through a hurricane. Remember when we had renovations going on in the attic, and you literally slept through the entire thing?’ she says, and I laugh at the memory. ‘I get it from Dad. You’re like Mum – she’s a light sleeper too,’ I say, and she scowls. ‘Trust me, I know. She caught me sneaking in at night that many times,’ she mutters, and I burst out laughing, completely forgetting the boy out on my balcony as Jisoo laughs with me.

There’s something about reminiscing with a sister that makes you feel warm inside.

‘That’s not fair!’ she exclaims, looking towards my balcony, ‘you got a sea view! Mine’s a mountain view!’ She begins to walk towards it, and without thinking, I nearly shriek, ‘No! Don’t go out there!’ She turns to look at me, her face a mixture of confused and alarmed. ‘Um, why?’ ‘You’ll ruin your hair, dummy! It’s so windy out there,’ I lie, surprised at how quickly I thought of that, and she gasps with realisation. ‘Oh, my God, I completely forgot. What would I do without you, y/n?’ she says, and I try to smile at her with true happiness. ‘You’d have messy hair on your wedding day,’ I say, and she lets out a gentle laugh.

‘Speaking of which, how do you feel? Excited?’ I ask, and she hesitates. ‘I don’t know,’ she begins, and my eyes widen. ‘What?’ ‘No, not like that! Don’t worry, I’m not getting cold feet. He’s not getting out of marrying my crazy ass,’ she says, both of us laughing before she continues; ‘I just… I don’t know, I just don’t feel excited. It feels like a normal day.’ ‘Well, it takes a while to sink in-’ ‘No, it’s sunk in. I’m well aware. I just don’t feel… anything. At all,’ she says, seeming a little worried, and I sigh. ‘Jisoo, that’s okay. This is a big thing, and there’s no particular way you should feel. Trust me, when you’re walking down the aisle, then you’ll feel it,’ I say, and she smiles softly. ‘You always know what to say,’ she says gently, and I get up from the bed, pulling her into a hug.

She hugs me back for a few seconds before pulling away. ‘You smell…’ she begins before moving back in to sniff me. And then she pulls back in shock, eyes wide. ‘You smell like sex! Oh, my God, did Jimin come to your room last night?’ she demands. ‘No! God, no! He might be here as my date, but he’s still my best friend, Jisoo! And also gay! No, I… I struggled to drop off, so I… you know,’ I trail off, and she grins at me when she realises. ‘Ooh, okay,’ she says teasingly, and I bury my face in my hands embarrassedly.

‘Shut it.’ ‘Fine, fine, I’ll let it go. Anyway, I’ve gotta go get my makeup done, but I just wanted to check in on you, because you weren’t replying to my texts. I might go check on my lovely groom,’ she says excitedly, heading towards the door, and I grab her hand. ‘No, idiot, it’s bad luck! Mum would kill you,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes, sighing. ‘Whatever. I’ll just go back to my room then. But get ready. You need to shower, and do your hair, and makeup, and you’ve only got three hours,’ she nags, and I roll my eyes. ‘Now you’re sounding like Mum. That’s plenty of time. Go, get ready,’ I say, and she grins, pulling me into a quick hug before darting out into the hall, the door falling shut with a heavy thud behind her.

When I turn around, Jungkook’s already coming back into the room with a shit-eating grin on his face. ‘Jimin? She’s funny,’ Jungkook laughs as I get his clothes out of the wardrobe, but I can’t bring myself to join in with his amuseent. ‘You need to go,’ I say, retrieving the sliders from under the bed, and his face falls. ‘What? Why?’ he asks, and my eyes widen at his stupidity. ‘Because you’re getting married to my sister in three hours!’ I hiss angrily, throwing his clothes at him, and he looks so inexplicably sad, slumping down onto the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands.

And just like always, he manages to make me feel sorry for him.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. But it’s true, Jungkook. You shouldn’t be here. You need to go and get ready. People are gonna start knocking on your door and wondering where you are,’ I say gently, and he nods, head still in his hands.

He takes a deep breath and looks up at me, and I really think he’s about to say goodbye and leave. And then he says something else entirely; ‘We could just run, you know.’ ‘What?’ I ask, blinking in shock, and he nods earnestly, getting up from the bed and taking my hands into his. ‘You love me, and I love you. That’s all that matters. We could run, start a life somewhere together,’ he says, and I can’t believe my ears.

I pull my hands from his, taking a couple steps back from him as his face falls. ‘Obviously you don’t care about my sister, but I do, and we cannot hurt her like that,’ I say coldly, his face twisting with rage. ‘You didn’t care about her when you were begging for my fucking cock last night,’ he spits, and I flinch at his words, the movement instantly taking the anger out of him.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it-’ ‘It’s fine. You’re not exactly wrong. Neither of us cared about her last night, when we probably should have. But it’s done. Now… you go, and you marry her, and you make her the happiest girl in the world,’ I say as brightly as possible, and he sighs sadly, pulling me into his arms. ‘And make you the saddest? I can’t do that,’ he whispers, my head tucked under his chin, and I melt into him, blinking back tears. ‘You have to,’ I say, and he takes a shaky breath before pulling away from me.

‘I never should’ve proposed,’ he spits, so angry at himself, throwing himself down onto the bed again, feet planted firmly on the floor. ‘Why did you?’ I whisper, and he looks up at me in surprise. ‘What?’ ‘Why did you propose?’ I ask, and he sighs, throwing his head back with his eyes closed, pain all over his face. Silence descends over us as he hesitates, and I can practically feel his mind working at a hundred miles an hour. ‘She’s… she won’t be around for long,’ he says sadly, and the words don’t really register with me properly. ‘What? Why?’

‘She’s dying, y/n.’

The words strike me dumb, echoing in my ears as though he’d shouted them, even though they’d barely come out as a whisper. ‘No,’ I breathe out, clutching my hands together at my chest, my entire body numb. ‘I’m sorry you had to find out like this,’ he sighs, and I shake my head, trying to block out his words. ‘No, no, no, it can’t be true,’ I whisper, and he gets up from the bed, looking as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders as he takes the two small steps towards me, wrapping his arms around my body again.

I curl into him, seeking comfort from him, the word ‘no’ falling from my lips again and again, like a broken record. ‘I’m sorry, y/n,’ he murmurs against my forehead, and I take a deep breath, my hands balled up in fists against his chest. ‘No, Jungkook, no! It can’t be true. No,’ I practically shout, my fist hitting his chest repeatedly, and he continues holding me. And then I clutch onto him, like he’s a buoy in this sea of pain, the waves rising up higher than possible and washing over me so hard, I think I might drown.

And when it feels like lifetimes have passed, lifetimes of agony and pain and loss, I let go of him, stumbling towards the bed to sit down, hands clasping at the sheets to anchor me. ‘Why… why is she dying? Has she been diagnosed?’ I ask, and he nods, coming to sit beside me, and he takes my hands into his. ‘She’s got early onset Parkinson’s disease. It’s really rare in people our age. You know what that is, right?’ he asks, and I nod, trying to imagine my sister, my beautiful lively sister, debilitated, stuck in a wheelchair, unable to move and speak. The image hurts my heart.

‘Is she getting treatment?’ I ask, and he sighs. ‘It’s terminal, so treatment won’t save her, it’ll just… prolong her suffering,’ he replies, and I look at him with hard eyes. ‘Is she getting treatment?’ I repeat harshly, and he shakes his head. ‘Are you kidding?’ ‘y/n, she refused treatment. She said she’d rather die quickly than die painfully,’ he says, and my whole body shakes with fury.

‘She’s so fucking stupid, oh, my God! She’s going to die painfully either way! Parkinson’s isn’t a pretty disease! She’s gonna get to a point where she can’t even shit without help! Why wouldn’t she put that off as long as possible?’ I rant and Jungkook nods in agreement, inexplicably sad. ‘I’ve had this same conversation with her several times. You know what she’s like. Once she’s made a decision…’ he trails off, and I nod, knowing exactly what he means.

She decided she was going to get married at the beach that we visited in Santorini when she was 8 and I was 6. That’s exactly where we are. She decided that she was going to have her bridesmaids (and decorations) in blue since we saw a wedding on TV with that same colour palette when she was 11 and I was 9. That’s exactly what we’re wearing (and the colour of her decorations). And she decided she was going to marry Jeon Jungkook, the popular, sweet, soft and smart jock boy in her year at school, since she was 14 and I was 12. And that’s exactly who she’s marrying.

Once she’s made a decision, there’s nothing changing her mind.

‘Try not to be upset today, y/n. I know that’s hard, but you’re not supposed to know, and it needs to stay that way until she tells you herself. Just, please, try to put on a smile,’ he says, and I nod, blinking back the tears that had been pooling in my eyes, and putting on my brightest smile. ‘Good?’ I ask, and he grins. He looks genuinely happy. And then I look at myself in the mirror sat on the desk, and I look genuinely happy too. We might not have much, but at least we’re great actors. ‘Beautiful,’ he answers, my heart fluttering at the compliment.

‘Just remember… I was planning on breaking up with her. And then I found out she has around a year left before she starts getting really ill, and god knows how long she’ll have after that. I owe her the happiness of having her dream wedding, owe it to her after what we did. What we’ve been doing, for years,’ he says gently, and I nod, knowing he’s right. ‘Thank you, for marrying her. She’ll be happier than she’s ever been before,’ I say softly, and we smile sadly at one another.

We rise up from the bed and I walk him over to the door. ‘Remember,’ he says quietly, taking my hands into his again, ‘I’m the doting, head-over-heels, whipped yet annoyingly nonchalant and cocky husband, and you’re the supportive, over-the-moon, ecstatic yet annoyingly teasing and mischievous younger sister. Got it?’ I burst out laughing at his stupid descriptions of us, and he grins. ‘I’ll see you… at the wedding,’ he smiles, his voice tinged with sadness, and I nod, smiling sadly back as I say, ‘see you at the wedding.’

‘Speech! Speech!’ the crowd of our family and friends chant at Jisoo who holds the mic in her hand, laughing as she waits for them to quieten down so she can do her speech. Her smile is so big, and she looks so beautiful, so happy, absolutely radiant. Her dress is perfect for her, practically screams Jisoo – well, the whole wedding has screamed Jisoo. It’s her all over. She’s had her dream wedding, and I couldn’t be happier for her.

I just wish the cost of her happiness wasn’t my own.

It’s been difficult today, more difficult that I could’ve imagined. The worst part was being stood right beside Jungkook and Jisoo as they got married, said their vows, and praying Jisoo didn’t notice how often his eyes flitted to me. Being happy for Jisoo, though? That was the easiest part. Seeing her happy like this, knowing she’s dying soon, my happiness for her hasn’t been hard to fake. Even easier after I’ve been avoiding Jungkook all day, spending all possible time with Jimin instead.

And then the mic feedback sings out across the space, making everyone clap their hands over their ears. ‘Sorry, sorry. Shall I start?’ Jisoo asks, everyone laughing as Jungkook says, ‘yes, please,’ with an affectionate roll of his eyes, and she shoves him as he grins amusedly. He plays the role well.

Jisoo begins her speech by thanking everyone for flying out, thanking her bridesmaids for all their help and the hen party (which Jungkook pretends to scowl at), thanking the groomsmen for keeping Jungkook out of her hair during all the wedding planning, thanking all of both our family members and Jungkook’s that have helped out, and thanking both our parents and Jungkook’s for all of their support and help (and financial contribution which everyone lets out a hearty laugh at).

‘But I must give our biggest thank you to the two people that have helped out the most,’ she says, and I can already feel tears filling my eyes as she looks at me across the dancefloor. Jimin, sat beside me, coughs loudly, and Jisoo laughs. ‘Sorry, I mean, the three people that have helped out the most,’ she corrects herself, everyone laughing as Jimin puffs out his chest, making me roll my eyes at my eccentric best friend.

‘First, Jungkook’s brother, Hoseok. Thank you for coming to every single one of our different meetings and appointments and everything we needed you at, and not complaining at all. Thank you for accepting the fact that you couldn’t bring all of your old frat brothers to our wedding with such grace, and thank you for being a real support for me and Jungkook when things got stressful. I’m honoured to have been blessed with such a great brother-in-law, and I’m so grateful for the way you’ve welcomed me into your family with open arms,’ Jisoo says, her eyes on Hoseok, who looks awfully proud of himself, his eyes shining suspiciously bright, and I hear him shouting a moment later, ‘I’ve got allergies, I’ve got allergies!’

‘And onto my best friend… and her best friend. My beautiful y/n, you truly are my angel sent from above. Whilst Hoseok helped calm us down, you’re the one that gave us a kick up the arse when we were falling behind on planning. You were there for everything, absolutely everything, down to the miniscule things like deciding the font for the invitations, and the shade of blue for my earrings. You practically lived at our house, and so did Jimin. You’re the best Maid of Honour I could’ve ever asked for, and Jimin, you’re the best Vice Maid of Honour I could’ve asked for. You’ve both helped me out more than I can say, and I’m so grateful. We both are.

y/n, thank you for being the best sister ever. From when you were born, I knew I was lucky to have you, and you’ve never proven it more than during the wedding planning. I love you so much, my love, and I can’t wait to see you fall in love and get married so I can nag and annoy and bug you and your fiancé just as much as you did with us. Thank you,’ she says, her eyes shining, and tears run down my cheeks at how lovely her speech was. And also the fact that she won’t ever see me get married, because I’m in love with her husband.

‘I love you,’ I mouth at her across the space, and she grins her beautiful grin back at me, blowing me a kiss. And then she turns to Jungkook, handing him the mic, and he takes it with a smile.

‘I, um… gosh, Jisoo always was the clever one,’ he begins, everyone laughing as Jisoo shakes her head, and those of us that know him best know he’s just as clever as her. They’re practically a power couple; brains, looks, talent. Their kids will be like superheroes. ‘She’s said all of the ‘thank you’s, to be honest, but I just want to add to a couple of them,’ he says before thanking the staff, his groomsmen and the bridesmaids again, and then his and our parents.

Then he thanks his brother – well, it’s less of a ‘thank you’ and more of a roasting. But his smile and eyes are so full of love for his brother, and I’ve seen them together enough over the years to know that their bond is something special. Like mine and Jisoo’s, I guess.

Then he thanks Jimin (he’s practically preening at all the attention) for keeping Jisoo and I in check when we got overexcited/emotional/spent way too much, and for keeping their main wedding planner (me) sane, and also restraining me from throttling Jisoo when she turned into bridezilla.

And then Jungkook’s gaze turns towards me, and it’s like everyone disappears, like how that happens every time he looks at me. But I shake it off. Because here, today, we aren’t secret lovers. He’s the groom, I’m the Maid of Honour, and we’re in-laws now. And we have to be happy for Jisoo.

‘And y/n, the sister I would’ve preferred to be with, but she was taken when I met her,’ he jokes, everyone laughing as Jisoo slaps his shoulder with a grin. ‘Thank you, y/n, for everything you’ve done for us both. You’ve been there as long as I can remember, the annoying younger sibling – and, Jimin, the best friend that was attached to her hip – the two of you always wanting to hang out with the older kids. You’ve been in my life just as long as Jisoo has and, even though you’ve only been my sister-in-law for a few hours, you’ve been here all along. So thank you, for helping our dream wedding come true, and for being… you. I look forward to the day that we can see you get married… and our children can be your flower girls and page boys,’ he says, rounding off on a light note, and a gentle laugh runs around the wedding party.

Tears flow down my face, and everyone gives us indulgent smiles, in wonder at how close, how tight knit our family is. But Jungkook’s gaze lingers on me a little too long, and I see past the light grin, see through the cracks in his armour, see the way his eyes shine with tears, the way his top lip seems to quiver a little, the way his fist keeps clenching and unclenching. And it hurts. God, it really fucking hurts. And he can see how much it hurts, because his mask slips for a moment, and so does mine, before we both look away from one another.

He begins his speech for his wife, and I just know I can’t bear to listen, can’t bear to hear him spout lies, so I dismiss myself, giving Jimin the excuse of running up to my hotel room to fix my makeup and go for a wee. I rush past all the smiling faces, the soft breeze ruffling my hair and dress as I take the stairs that lead up from the beach and back into the hotel, but instead of turning left where all the rooms are, I turn right and run down towards where I know the hotel’s other stretch of beach is, tears running down my face.

I perch on a deck chair, the hem of my dress laying against the sand as I look out at the sea crashing against the shore, the setting sun reflected in the waves. My head finally calms, the tears coming to a stop as I listen to the sound of the sea, the rest of the world just melting away, everything else melting away. Jungkook, Jisoo, the fact that she’s ill, and the fact that she just married the boy I love, it all just… disappears from my head. For a few beautiful moments, there’s just me and the sea.

And then I hear footsteps approaching behind me. ‘y/n,’ I hear his voice, and I laugh, turning to him with a smile. ‘I swear to God, what can I do to get you to leave me alone?’ I ask, and Hoseok bursts into laughter as he sits on the deck chair beside me. ‘I saw you leave. You okay? I know today must have been really hard for you,’ he begins, but I hold up a hand. ‘Please, Hoseok, don’t. I get that you mean well, but I really can’t talk about this,’ I say, and he nods, smiling sadly. ‘Okay. We won’t talk about it,’ he says simply, and I smile back before both of us turn to look out at the sea.

I met Hoseok when I was… 14? Maybe 15. He was the older brother of the boy that my sister was convinced she would marry, and also the older brother of the boy that had asked me on a date (despite being two years older than me), and I’d had to tell him I had a boyfriend (how I wish I’d just gone on the date with him all those years back). I was out with my friends once when we’d heard some boy shouting my name. We all turned to look, and saw Jeon Jungkook, the most desirable boy at our school, and who must have been his older brother – the resemblance was striking. It’d been Hoseok shouting my name, teasing Jungkook because of his crush on me.

The next time I saw Hoseok was when I was 16, and Jisoo had told our family that she was dating someone, but wanted us to meet their family before they made it official. Both mine and Jungkook’s jaws had dropped when I walked into his house – obviously the fact that I was Jisoo’s sister hadn’t come up in their conversation. I’d seen Hoseok plenty of times since then; he’d been at every birthday of our family’s, and I’d been at every birthday of their family’s – he even came to my graduation. It was a couple years ago that Hoseok and I became really good friends, and I’d broken down and confessed to him that I was love with his brother and had been the entire time he’d been dating my sister. He took it well – I’m guessing his reaction wouldn’t quite have been the same had I confessed that we’d also been sleeping together for a few years behind everyone’s backs.

Hoseok had been like an older brother to me, all of the annoying traits included, and he’d managed to whisk me away from tough situations (like family get-togethers) with excuses of having to get some more lemonade from the shop or pick some weed up from his dealer’s house (he’s always been very open about his smoking, and it hadn’t been long before Jungkook joined in too, but he kept it to a minimum when Jisoo was around – I’d been with him whilst he was high several times though. He’s cute when he’s high – soft and affectionate and needy).

‘Okay, I think we should head back. They might start worrying we’ve snuck off somewhere. You know, Maid of Honour, Best Man,’ he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and I shove him with a laugh, both of us rising up from our deck chairs. He holds an arm out to me, and I take it, and we walk back towards the wedding in a comfortable silence.

The air is still deliciously warm, the setting sun casting an orange glow over the atmosphere, the sky streaked with pastel colours as the sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faint, yet present. ‘Is my makeup okay?’ I ask as we approach the wedding, the music getting a little louder with each step. ‘It’s perfect. I would never have guessed you’ve been crying your eyes out,’ he teases, and I nudge him in annoyance.

And then I hear the DJ’s voice ring out into the air; ‘First song request of the night!’ With the invitations, they sent out song request cards for people to… request a song to be played at the wedding. I can’t even remember what I put down on mine. ‘This request is from the sister of the bride, our beautiful Maid of Honour! This is Perfect by Ed Sheeran and Beyoncé.’

‘How tasteless of you,’ Hoseok says, and I give him an indignant look, though I can’t help but feel dread at this song playing. ‘It’s romantic,’ I defend, and he rolls his eyes as we reach the rest of the wedding party. It’s like I can sense his eyes on me, and I turn to meet his gaze, and he grins, instantly making his way towards me. ‘Can I have this dance?’ he asks with shining eyes and a gentle grin, and Hoseok instantly removes his arm from mine as I take Jungkook’s hand, letting him pull me onto the dancefloor.

‘Why’d you choose this song, y/n?’ he asks teasingly as we glide around the floor, as though we’re one person in two different bodies, moving as one. ‘It’s romantic,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘So you don’t remember the piece of our history that’s attached to this song?’ he asks, and I avoid his gaze, embarrassed. ‘You’re a little minx choosing this song,’ he jokes, and I let out a laugh, our eyes meeting with amusement.

It was a couple weeks before his aunt’s wedding, four years ago, and he was taking Jisoo as his date. But he’d asked me to help him learn how to properly waltz so he could surprise and impress my sister at the wedding. So I’d gone over to his house, nobody else but us at home, and we’d spent hours trying to waltz with this song playing in the background. He eventually got the hang of it, but we’d gotten lost in each other’s eyes and he tripped over his own feet and we’d fallen to the floor, his body landing on top of mine.

That was the start of our affair.

‘Shall we waltz?’ he asks, and I laugh, nodding as we begin to waltz around the dancefloor. My dress swishes around our legs as my heels click against the temporary dancefloor they’d put down on top of the sand. He looks so handsome, in his black tux and white shirt open at the collar, having discarded his tie a couple hours ago, silver cufflinks sparkling at his wrists and silver earrings dangling from his ears.

‘You look so handsome,’ I whisper without even meaning to, and he grins. ‘Why, thank you, y/n. And you look so beautiful,’ he whispers back, sincerity in his voice. He’s changed so much in the past 24 hours. How could I have doubted his love for me, when it’s in his eyes every time he looks at me?

‘Thanks to your wife. The dress, the makeup, the hair, it was all her idea,’ I say, and he chuckles. ‘She’s not the one wearing it though,’ he says, and I laugh. My dress is floaty, strappy and sky-blue, the perfect summer bridesmaid dress, and blue flowers are woven into the braid that winds around my head, the rest of my hair falling in wavy sheets around my shoulders. And my makeup is soft and summery, faint blue eyes, glossy lips and shimmery cheekbones.

And then he starts singing along to the song, our feet still moving in a faultless waltz. I’m suddenly hyperaware of his hand on my lower back, too low, the other one clasped in mine, too tight, and we’re standing close, too close. But I don’t care to move, instead singing along too. And it’s as though he’s singing the lyrics to me, telling me I’m an angel, that he doesn’t deserve me, and that I look perfect. And I live in this little fantasy, in this world where we can love each other, hold each other, touch each other without all the guilt. In this world where he’s just a boy and I’m just a girl, and we’re just in love.

But then my eyes meet Jisoo’s across the dancefloor, and it takes me a moment to realise they’re full of tears. The second our eyes meet, she begins to walk towards us, and the fear of her knowing nearly paralyses me, and Jungkook can feel it, his body tensing as his eyes stay locked on my face. ‘Can I cut in?’ Jisoo’s voice comes from behind him, and he turns to see her there. ‘Yeah, of course,’ I say, and she lets out a gentle laugh. ‘I was talking to him. I want to dance with you,’ she says gently, and Jungkook feigns hurt, pretending to march off in a huff as both of us laugh, watching him join his friends by the bar.

She holds her arms up in position, and I do the same, beginning to waltz with my sister now. She always used to lead, being the oldest and all, and that hasn’t changed, the girl spinning us around the floor flawlessly. ‘I need to say something, and I want you to listen to everything before you speak,’ she says, my heart nearly stopping with the fear of being caught out, and I nod wordlessly, trying to focus on the fact that there’s still a small smile on her face.

‘I love you. Just as much as I love him. Meaning I know you both very well. I’ve known for a while that there’s a boy in your life, whether or not he’s a boyfriend or just dating or just a crush. But I’ve known. And I’ve known there was someone else in his life. And we were near the end of our relationship when I found out that I’m ill, y/n, and I’m not going to get better. Don’t, don’t cry, we’ll come back to that. I really thought I knew everything, I thought I was so clever. But I didn’t know that his someone else was you and your someone was him,’ she says, my entire body going cold, but the smile still doesn’t disappear from her face.

‘How long? How long have you loved him?’ she asks, and I sigh. ‘Ji…’ ‘How long, y/n?’ ‘Since a month before we met his family,’ I admit sadly, and her mouth falls open. ‘y/n… why didn’t you say anything? I thought you were going to say a couple years. Not that long,’ she says sadly, and I shrug with a smile. ‘You were happy. I couldn’t ruin that,’ I say, and she smiles, eyes full with tears. ‘Thank you, y/n, for letting me have my dream wedding with the love of your life,’ she says, and I shake my head. ‘He’s the love of your life, not mine,’ I say, and now she shakes her head, still smiling the sad smile that breaks my heart.

‘He’s the love of both of our lives. Because I’m not going to be around much longer,’ she says, but I shake my head again, angry this time. ‘No, Jisoo, don’t say that.’ ‘It’s true, y/n, and I’m not going to drag out my suffering. I’m lucky if I have two years. So, please, don’t care what anyone else thinks once I’m gone. Marry him, spend your life with him, love him, because I want you to make him happy, and I want him to make you happy, but neither of you can do that whilst I’m still here.’ ‘Jisoo, don’t say that!’ ‘y/n, it’s true, we both know it is. You’re the loves of each other’s lives, and I won’t be the bitch sister who stops you from being happy.’

‘Jisoo, let’s not have this conversation on your wedding day. Please, just be happy today,’ I say sadly, and she nods, a big smile breaking across her face. ‘Okay. Thank you for making my wedding amazing. I love you, y/n.’ And then my eyes meet Jungkook’s, and it’s like he knows, because for the first time since I can remember, his gaze doesn’t have any sadness or yearning in it. No. This time, it’s just love, and happiness, and I smile back at him, before turning my smile to my sister, my heart swelling with love. ‘I love you, too, Jisoo.’

[peaceisadirtyword]

Don’t Play With Fire VI (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: HELLO🥺💜 I’m so happy and so excited to post something again! After months with a huge block, not being able to write more than 1000 words, I managed to finish something. It’s not perfect, but I'm quite happy with the result! And I really hope you like it too, and you forgive me for being such an horrible writer these months. I hope I can keep writing like this now🥰 I hope I can post something more this week, but I can’t promise you anything because I'm working, finishing my final project for uni and I have to study bc I have a Danish test next week, but I’m going to try!

I really hope you enjoy this, it was much longer, but I decided to crop it a bit because it was too long! And I hope you like this part enough to read the next part as soon as I can post it! Thank you and please enjoy💞

Warnings: violence, an abusive relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of death and Ivar might be a bit out of character! 

Words: 3967 (told you it was too long)

DPWF Masterlist

gif belongs to @justacripple 

A dog barking on the street startled you, and you nearly dropped your phone out of the window. You frowned and took a deep breath before turning around and entering your living room, letting yourself fall down on your couch, groaning. 

A soft meowing and small paws pressing against your head made you open your eyes. 

"What?" you glared at the intense green eyes fixed on you "Don't look at me like that, I really want to tell him, but he's not answering his phone" 

You looked at your phone again, biting your lip. You had sent like six messages to Erik, asking him to call you or come home. You hadn't heard of him in two days, since you arrived from Stockholm... And even if you wanted to be worried, you were more angry than anything. 

You had made your decision. After spending a whole night sleeping beside Ivar, with his arms around you and feeling safer and more relaxed than ever you decided to end everything. It was over for you. 

You weren't going to keep risking your own life for Erik, when he obviously didn't care about it. You were tired of his shit, and of dealing with things you shouldn't be dealing with and that affected you on many levels. And, at the same time, you were terrified of breaking up with him; even if you were ready to let Erik go, you were worried about him and what could happen to him. 

But you were being selfish for once and put yourself before everything. 

As usual, Erik didn't answer his phone, but appeared a couple of hours later without a warning. As always, drunk and hungry, barely looking at you as he opened your fridge and started taking your food, the food you had bought with the little money you had left from work and that was meant to be enough for two weeks until you got paid again. 

You just got back from Sweden, risking your life for him and he didn't even look at you. 

With tears of rage burning in your eyes, you stood just in front of him. He looked annoyed, but he frowned in confusion when he saw you glaring at him.

"I called you" 

"I know baby" he rubbed his eyes, leaving the food on the kitchen counter "I was busy"

"You were busy in your friend's house getting wasted" you scoffed "And I needed to talk to you" 

"You can talk now" he shrugged.

"Yes" you took the piece of bread from his hand "I'm going to talk"

Erik clenched his jaw. 

"What? Did something happen in Stockholm?"

Yes, you thought, a lot of things happened. 

"Erik, I'm done" 

"You're done with what?"

"With everything, with this stupid mission you gave to me, with you, with all this shit, Erik, I don't want to keep risking my own life so you can get your revenge, you care more about your revenge than about me, and I'm done with it" 

He looked confused. You saw him getting angry, but it was like he had a learned role, and immediately his face changed and he tried to look like a puppy, like he was sad. 

"Baby... What do you mean?"

"Don't call me baby" you rolled your eyes "Look, Erik, I care about you, but I'm not risking everything for someone who I know wouldn't risk a thing for me" you shook your head. 

"Don't do this to me" he muttered, and you felt like punching him when he let a couple of false tears roll down his cheeks. It was the same performance as always, trying to make you feel guilty and sad "I need you, I love you"

"No you don't" you looked away from him. For the first time, you didn't even feel bad for him "I'm tired, it's over" 

Immediately, his sadness turned into anger. You pressed your lips together as he glared at you. 

"You can't break up with me" 

"Well, I'm doing it right now, so I think I can" you shrugged, trying not to feel intimidated by the way he clenched his fists. 

"You're nothing without me" he spat, making you flinch softly "No one will ever love you, you're useless" 

You sighed, feeling too exhausted to go through this again. 

"Please, Erik, leave" you said softly, not really wanting to fight or anger him. You said what you had to say and it was over for you. 

He was trembling in rage, panting and looking around. For a moment, you thought he'd hit you, but instead he stood up and took your phone from the kitchen counter, slamming it on the floor before you could react. He continued walking around the living room and slamming everything he could take as you moved away from him. You were relieved to remember you had locked your cat on your bedroom, fearing something like this would happen. 

"Did you fuck him?" he raised his voice at you and you flinched again "Did you fuck him during your little holidays in Sweden?" He approached you and you pressed your back to the kitchen counter, grabbing the knife you had left on the sink after dinner to wash later. He wouldn't hit you, you were almost sure of that, but if he did, you'd defend yourself. 

"No" you answered, glaring at him "I wasn't on holidays, I was risking everything for you, and you didn't even care about how I was" 

"You're a whore" he growled, and you held yourself from rolling your eyes "I knew you would betray me, I knew I couldn't trust you" 

"Erik, please, leave" you muttered "Seriously"

"This is not over" he muttered, getting so close to you that you turned your head. He reeked of alcohol, and it made you nauseous "You'll hear from me again, you fucking bitch" 

And then he left. As quickly as he had entered, he left the house, leaving the door open and muttering different insults and threats that you couldn't hear. 

Immediately, you took your keys from your purse and locked the door leaving the keys on so no one could open it from outside. You took your phone from the floor, relieved to see it only had the screen broken, you were really thankful to that employee at the store that convinced you to buy a tempered glass and that big phone case. 

You weren't sure of how much time you spent in there, standing between the kitchen and the living room, not really sure of what you were feeling in that moment. Your eyes scanned the room, the tv was okay, Erik didn't have the strength in that moment to throw it to the floor, but some other things, like the beautiful crystal vase you had on the table, full of beautiful flowers that Mrs. Larsen, your neighbor, had brought for you when she went to her holiday cottage in Jutland, just before you went to Sweden. 

And then you heard it; a small meowing and a scratch on the wooden door that lead to your bedroom, and your eyes widened. 

Smaug seemed mad at you when you opened the door, hissing a bit when you kneeled on the floor to take him in your arms, hugging him tightly. He meowed again in protest, but you ignored him. 

"Are you okay? Did the noise scare you?" You pouted, tears already burning in your eyes. 

He licked your cheek softly, and you let out the first sob. 

____________________________

You woke up with your phone vibrating on the bed next to you. You needed a couple of seconds to realize you were in your bed, still wearing the same clothes you did the day before before taking the phone. 

"Hello?" You muttered, rubbing your eyes. 

"Y/N, were you sleeping?"

Ivar's voice woke you up completely. You widened your eyes and looked around, remembering everything that happened the night before and that made you cry until you fell asleep. 

"Yeah" you muttered, rubbing your face. Your voice was hoarse and weak, and the silence at the other side of the phone made you understand Ivar knew something had happened. 

You could nearly see him frowning and pressing his lips together. 

"It's lunchtime" 

"Really?" You looked at the clock next to your bed, biting your lip when you realized he was right "Well, I went to sleep really late, so I'm not surprised"

His sigh sounded like he wanted to ask you what happened, but at the same time he knew you wouldn't tell him. 

"Anyway, I called because I wanted to ask you something" 

"Okay, tell me" you shrugged. You realized that the only source of information about Aethelwulf you had was Erik, and he wouldn't tell you anything, of course. But telling Ivar the truth was even more frightening.

"I was wondering... If you'd like to come to my apartment to have dinner tonight" 

He spoke so fast that you barely understood him, but then you raised an eyebrow, smiling unconsciously as your fingers played with the edge of the blanket. 

"For what?" You asked, with your heart beating faster. 

"To... Have dinner" his confused tone made you laugh softly. 

"I mean, you know I don't have any information for you" you giggled "So, unless you want me to do something else I..."

"No, I just want to have dinner with you" Ivar sounded like he had his teeth pressed together, and you allowed yourself to imagine him blushing. 

"Oh, okay" you nodded, your smile getting bigger "That would be nice" 

"Yeah" he cleared his throat. 

"Should I bring something?" 

"No, it's okay, I already bought everything" 

"Why? You didn't know if I'd say yes" 

"If you said no, I'd invite Hvitserk" 

You bit your lip again to hold back a laugh, and you'd swear Ivar chuckled on the phone. 

"Well, then... See you at five?" 

"Half past five" you frowned, looking at your reflect on the mirror in front of your bed and realizing you'd need some time to look like a normal person. 

"Okay, half past five" he agreed, surprising you "I'll send a car to pick you up" 

"I can take the bus..."

"No" he scoffed "I'm not letting you go all alone, you're important" 

The both of you stood in silence, listening to each other's breathing until you parted your lips again. 

"Important for what?" You asked softly "For your business or for... you?" 

Ivar didn't answer. You kind of imagined he wouldn't, but it was still disappointing when he spoke again. 

"The car will pick you up at quarter past five" he said "Be ready"

"I will" you muttered "Bye" 

He hang up without a word, and you stayed there, looking at your phone for a few minutes before laying down on your bed again. As soon as you stopped talking to him, the pressure on your chest came back, as did the tears. You wished you could go back to Stockholm, to snuggle into Ivar's chest again and to sleep peacefully for hours. You remembered how warm he felt, how safe you were with him, and then felt like the worst person in the world. You had lied to both Erik and Ivar; you were still lying to Ivar, and wouldn't tell him not because you were scared of him, but because you knew he wouldn't ever forgive you. 

Taking a deep breath, you stood up, making Smaug hiss in annoyance, and walked into the bathroom, ready to have a nice and relaxing shower. 

__________________________________

Suddenly, any of the clothes you had were nice enough. You hated how you looked even with the new clothes you bought a few weeks ago, when the sales started. Smaug looked amused as you frowned in annoyance when you realized your favorite skirt was now too short. Had always been that short? 

You looked at the big mess of clothes that was your bed. You still had the Dior dress Ivar had gifted you, which was probably more expensive than the rest of your clothes all together, but it was too much, right? Besides, you had already worn it to go dinner with him. 

After deciding you didn't like how your ass looked in a skirt, you started trying on the jeans. Half an hour later, you were already dressed with skinny jeans and a white blouse with some cleavage -you were happy to see that blouse still made your chest look even better. 

You didn't put too much make up on, and left your hair loose. You put your favorite converse on before taking your purse with some money, your keys and your phone before taking Smaug into your arms, ignoring his protests and trying to keep him away from your clothes. 

You didn't want to leave your cat all alone in your apartment just after breaking up with Erik, afraid he'd try to hurt you by hurting Smaug, so you had called your lovely neighbor, Mrs. Larsen, and asked her if she could take care of him for one night. She agreed, and you felt much better leaving him safe with her.

After promising her you'd enjoy yourself and stop worrying about your cat, you left the building biting your lip nervously. 

The thought that Ivar might have discovered you had crossed your mind more than once that day, but for some reason you didn't think that was the reason for his invitation. In fact, you felt like it was a date. 

The car stopped in front of you. You blushed when the driver got out and opened the door for you so you could enter. Muttering a weak 'thank you', you sat down and licked your lips while looking around. It wasn't the same as when you went with Ivar; you felt awkward and, even if no one could see you through the tinted windows, you covered your face until the car stopped next to a huge building in the center of Copenhagen. 

You tried to pretend not to look too amazed by the luxury around you. It was hard to imagine Ivar, the dark and mysterious Ivar, living in that place. 

"Take the elevator to the attic" the driver opened the door for you "Mr. Lothbrok will be waiting for you in there" 

You nodded, smiling at him as you walked to the door. Suddenly, you regretted your election of clothes and realized you should have worn the Dior dress. 

Ivar was leaning on his crutch next to his door. You nearly forgot how beautiful he was, and you had to bit your lip again to hold back a smile. His lips were a bit curved, and his eyes didn't leave you until you arrived next to him. 

"Hi" 

"Hello" he nodded with a soft voice, so different from that Ivar you had met in the club "You look pretty" 

Was he blushing?

"Thanks" you allowed yourself to look at him; he wore a t-shirt and some jeans, really different from the suits he had worn in Stockholm "You look nice too" 

Ivar smiled, but hid it by looking away, moving to leave you enter the apartment... Well, to call that 'an apartment' would be a lie. It was bigger than probably all of the apartments on your building together, and had a huge window from which you could see the entire city. 

"Wow" you muttered, walking around the living room. You forgot your shyness and let yourself wander around, trying to imagine Ivar living there. Would he fall asleep in that huge couch while watching TV after midnight? How would he look having breakfast sitting on the kitchen counter, with sleepy eyes and yawning? The thought of him doing his normal life in that apartment made you smile softly as a warm feeling spread through your chest. 

Ivar closed the door. You turned to look at him, the smile still present on your lips. 

"I don't know how I imagined your house" you confessed "But it definitely wasn't like this" 

Ivar raised an eyebrow as he approached you leaning on his crutch. 

"How did you imagine it?" 

"Darker" you shrugged "Smaller... Full of smoke and with weapons" you giggled.

"Maybe you don't know me that well, then" 

Was he flirting? You had never realized when people flirted with you, and this time wasn't different. 

Blushing, you kept looking around, your eyes widened when you saw the mess on the kitchen. 

"Did you cook?" you forgot your embarrassment and approached the kitchen. Did Ivar the Boneless cook?

"Yes" he cleared his throat "Hvitserk helped me" 

You tried really hard to imagine the two brothers cooking together, and the thought made you smile. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's actually a good cook, my mother taught him" 

"So this is how the dangerous Lothbrok family spends their free days... Cooking... Lasagna?" your eyes lightened up when you saw one of your favorite foods in the oven. 

Ivar nodded slowly. 

"It's your favorite, isn't it?" 

"Yeah but... How do you know that?" 

"You mentioned it in Stockholm, while talking to Hvitserk" he blushed, but this time you didn't realize, as he pretended to be busy fiddling with one of the kitchen rags he had left on the counter "I heard you.. As you won't tell me anything about you, I have to eavesdrop" 

You bit your lip to hold back another smile and your eyes went to the wooden table in the living room, set with candles. Something told you Ivar hadn't been the one setting it. 

__________________________________

"You look tired" Ivar didn't stop looking at you as you tasted the first bite of the lasagna. You licked your lips and controlled yourself to avoid moaning at the taste of food. You had barely eaten that day.

"Yeah, I've had trouble to sleep these past days" 

"Can't sleep without me anymore?" He muttered, and you hid your face behind the glass of wine to hide your blush. 

"The lasagna is really good" you cleared your throat "Tell Hvitserk he's a really good cook" 

Ivar frowned and glared at you. 

"I did most of it" he scoffed "Hvitserk ate the ingredients" 

"Okay, then congratulations, Ivar, you're a good cook" 

Ivar smiled, looking down as he played with the food on his plate. 

"Thank you" 

After a couple minutes eating in silence, you raised your head and bit your lip. 

"Why did you invite me?" 

His eyes found yours and you felt thirsty again. 

"I... Wanted to see you" he shrugged "Outside of that club or without forcing you to go to a foreign country with me" 

"But why?" You insisted "You said you didn't have any other job for me or..."

"No, I just wanted to see you... Talk to you... Stop asking questions, woman" he rolled his eyes, making you smile "I'm the one who wants to ask questions" 

Your smile faded slowly. Even if he hadn't said anything, you were still terrified of him knowing the truth about Erik and your role in his revenge. You wanted to be the one telling him, but... How? 

"You're mysterious" he tilted his head "I'm not going to tell you you're different from other girls and all that bullshit, but I find you intriguing, I know everything about you, but I feel like I don't know you" his cheeks reddened as he spoke "And I want to change that" 

"So Ivar the Boneless went from wanting to kill me to inviting me to have dinner at his apartment, I'm flattered"

He smiled again, you didn't remember Ivar smiling so much. 

"I must admit you surprised me, going to meet me with that attitude... So brave" he winked at you "To be honest, I was sure you were lying to me"

You sighed, taking another sip from your glass of wine. Would this be the moment? 

"But you didn't" he smiled gently "And, believe it or not, you've showed more loyalty than people that I've been trusting for years... For me, loyalty is the most important thing" 

"Did anyone ever betray you?" you asked.

"A lot of people" he chuckled "More than I can count... My own half brother, for example" 

"Björn?" 

"Yeah, but he wasn't the worst. I kind of imagined we'd end up like this, we're just too different" he shrugged "But a woman betrayed me once" 

"A woman? Your girlfriend?" you forgot your food and abandoned your fork on the plate.

"My wife" he corrected you. Your eyes widened, Erik never mentioned him being married "I loved her with my whole heart, Y/N, she..." He sighed "She was my first love, but... She betrayed me, she went behind my back and lied to my face"

"Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Apparently someone who wanted me dead thought that would be a good way of fucking me up so I would be vulnerable and weak..."

"What happened to her?" 

"She died" you'd swear he had tears on his eyes "He killed her when she was useless to him... And when she was pregnant with my child" 

Your lips parted and you gasped in a mix between surprise and horror. 

"How..."

"A car accident" Ivar shook his head "I discovered everything when she was already dead... And I killed that bastard with my own hands" 

You didn't really know what to say. 

"I didn't know... I'm sorry" you moved your hand so caress his softly. He looked surprised by that, but his expression softened and stood in silence. 

It must have been awful... You scanned his beautiful face, and realized he had trusted you with something very private, something no one knew, and he told you... Suddenly, you felt like throwing up, feeling like the worst person in the world. 

"I already told you my big secret" he chuckled then "You can tell me yours now" 

You bit your lip, shaking your head. 

"I'm afraid we'd need more alcohol for that" you giggled nervously. 

Ivar stared at you intensely, but sighed and nodded slowly, taking his crutch to stand up again. 

"I'm not hungry anymore, do you want to see the rest of the apartment?" 

You nodded, standing up and following him through the living room. He opened one door, turning to look at you. 

"If you liked the window of the living room, you'll love this one" he winked at you before entering the room. 

The last thing you expected that night was to end up inside Ivar's bedroom. You stepped in with an eyebrow raised, and smiled in excitement when you saw the big window from which you could see the entire city. The bed was situated just in front of it, which was like your dream. 

"It must be amazing to wake up to that view" you muttered, approaching the window "I barely have sunlight in my bedroom" you sighed. 

"I bet you'd love to wake up in here, wouldn't you?" Ivar teased, and you blushed again, even if this time you were facing away from him. You weren't sure if he meant something else, but decided not to ask.

"It's even better than the suite of Stockholm" you admitted, ignoring his comment. Ivar chuckled and you heard him approaching you. When he spoke again, he did it closer to you, and your heart started beating faster and faster. 

"I think we could make it even better" 

His hand found your waist, and you stopped breathing, holding yourself back from leaning into him. You turned around slowly, and did what you had been dying to do since you did it for the last time. 

Ivar kissed you back, letting his hand grab your neck and sighing into the kiss. 

"How?" you asked softly, feeling braver than ever. 

"Spend the night" he replied, his lips still brushing yours "With me" 

___________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @chimera4plums @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @poisonous00 @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @kalonthecat @nataliehasgrace @atlas-of-the-world @justrepostandlove @persephones-deadgirlwalking @justacripple @love-dria​ @heartbeats-wildly​ @sw-eat-ing​ @letsrunawaytotomorrow​ @inforapound​ @sallydelys​ @hellogabysblog​ @winchesterwife27​ @chinduda​ @tofadavidson​ @hecohansen31​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @tgrrose​​ @eteramfools​ @flokidottirsstuff​ @lovessce​ @tootie-fruity​ @didiintheblog​ @alexhandersenx​ @belovedcherry​ @fantasydevil2002​ @laubluered​

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes We are Born (Part 5)

a/n: take fucking two of posting this bc tumblr likes to fuck me over djdjjdjd. something that always bothered me with evey is the fact she left V?? I get not wanting to be stuck with a stranger for an entire year but you were the one who maced the cop. you decided to do it not v. he did not ask u to. now v torturing her there's not rlly a jusitifed excuse even though i can see why but it's still not justified either way. anyways as always enjoy.

Summary: V is away tending to his daily anarchist duties, which leaves you facing the wake of a treacherous thunder storm alone! Fluff ensues.

a/n 2: oh my god. i finally got the fucking gifs to work. had to navigate back and forth i stg I'm gonna dethrone the Tumblr god.

The music from your phone played throughout the deafening silence of the gallery. The infamously known masked criminal had left the gallery to commit his “righteous duties”. That’s how your friend, V, put it anyways. London was weeping over its people, at least, that’s what V had said once he heard the rain slapping the roof. Why can’t he just say it’s pouring, you thought to yourself as V fluttered about the house. “Dramatic as always V,” you snickered as you stood there watching him preparing to leave. You had been staying in the Shadow Gallery for a few months now. You weren’t very stoked to having to stay here for a year, but you had to. After all, you had sealed your fate after macing that cop. Even though you were upset about having to be stuck here away from your paints and gaming consoles, you understood. It was your decision to save him, he hadn’t asked you too.

  V’s underground home was deadly quiet as he got ready. The playful aura and laughter was now gone. It felt lonely and cold, something you guessed V had felt before you arrived. “Hey V,” you asked, fidgeting with the flowy skirt you wore. “Yes?” The man in question picked up his notorious black hat and put it on top of his head. He smoothed his hair and turned to you after looking in the mirror once more. “C-can I,” you started, cheeks flushing a bright pink, “Can I have a hug?” You felt awkward as you stood there playing with your skirt. V didn’t say anything as he stared at you. The smiling mask was unsettling to look at with the awkward air and embarrassment you felt. “Y-y'know what, forget I asked,” you stammered, starting to turn before throwing a “good luck and goodbye” kinda thing. You heard him sigh. V wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to his chest. The scent of lemon and the smell of pine made you hum. Your arms snaked around his middle as you stood there, together in front of the T.V. You were thankful V couldn’t see your beet red face. His mask rested atop your head and you shivered at the rumble of his chest as he spoke. “Forgive me, I was taken aback is all.” You pulled away a bit looking at the eyes of his mask. “It’s alright, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “Nonsense my dear, you have yet to do so.” Oh we definitely have a crush. You pulled away giving him a smile. “Be safe okay V? I mean it. If you come home almost dead on the porch again, so help me, your bullet wounds won’t be the thing killing you.” V laughed, the sound of it making your heart giddy. “Of course, mademoiselle.” The tension between the two you was thick, neither of you breaking eye contact. Feeling bold, you grasped V’s shoulder with your hand and stood on your tippy toes. “D-dove-,” he started. You interrupted him, though. Your soft lips placed themselves on the cheek of his mask. “A good luck charm,” you said softly as you pulled away. Giving V’s shoulder one last squeeze, you let him go. “I shall return soon,” V said as he left. You scolded him again about being reckless, and to be safe . Your heart sank as V’s echoing footsteps faded away leaving you standing alone and cold.

“ I love you baby , and if it’s quite alright I need you baby,” you sang as you grabbed the acrylic paint V had gotten for you. The clock read 1:54 on the wall while the rain continued to pour outside into the night. V had yet to return from doing god knows what in the streets. The smears of white and red paint were splattered across your arms and thighs. The scent of paint and V’s musky smell mixed together as you painted. Your arms and body tingled from the warm embrace he had given you. Thoughts of V took over as your paint brush made graceful strokes on the canvas. Did he even like you back? “As if,” you huffed. “He’s a man with taste.” But what about the pet names? And the flowers! He brings us flowers once he comes back.  “He’s british, being called love and darling is something normal here. The flowers don’t mean anything. It’s not like an obvious red rose or anything,” you told yourself. Stop daydreaming and just accept the fact that V doesn’t like you like in that way. 

 4:33 . “Where the hell is he,” you muttered. The rain continued to pour outside. Your canvas was set drying on the table and you flipped through your phone to entertain yourself.  Thank god for a VPN. You laughed at a funny meme as you scrolled through your feed. The lights flickered. You sucked in a breath and waited. CRASH! You jumped at the loud bang of thunder. Trying to calm yourself down, you continued to scroll through Twitter. The anxiety in your stomach wouldn’t stop eating away. V was out there in this godforsaken storm. What if he got hurt? What if he died? “Stop,” you told yourself sternly. “He’ll be fine.” 

Pop! Darkness embraced you as you sat there. The lights are out. Your breaths became shallow; the dim white light of your phone providing some kind of light source. “Calm down,” you whispered. “We’re gonna be fine.” Turning on your phone’s flashlight and using it as a torch, you crept to the bedroom. Loud crashes and noises made your hair stand up on end. Loud noises meant trouble. Loud noises meant a tantrum from your dad had started or something was here, waiting . Silence meant peace. Silence meant safety.

There was some sense of relief as you made it to the room and closed the door. Diving under the blankets, you whimpered as lightning struck. You curled into yourself and laid there. Hoping that the storm would pass, or V would come home. His scent on the sheets was the only solace you had. He will come home, eventually. You wished for V’s arms to hold and comfort you like the very few times he did before. Usually after a panic attack or when you were at the lowest of your lows. You wanted him to finish reading Lord of the Rings to you and help lull you to sleep. But V wasn’t here. V wasn’t going to hold you, or read you to sleep. He was out saving the country he so loved from it’s awful dictator. You’re weak. V wouldn’t want someone weak. He wants someone brave, and courageous. Someone who’s willing to die for what they love.

A sob bubbled up in your throat and tears threatened to escape from your eyes. You couldn’t breathe; you felt suffocated under the sheets, but if you moved you’d be open, vulnerable. Vulnerability is a weakness, being sad and scared is a weakness. How disgusting you must have looked. Hiding like a small child from the scary monster in their closet. How disgusted would V be if he found you here, under his sheets that were now wet with tears. We need to calm down. We need to stop crying. How pathetic we must look right now. He should’ve left you in that station to die. You deserve to die, you deserve to- .

“Love?” V’s voice broke your thoughts. He sounded so soft and gentle. You cursed at yourself for not noticing the door opening. Now he was going to see how pathetic you really were. V’s black boots slid across the floor when he made way into the room.You felt the bed dip beside you as you laid there. Your breath caught in your throat as you laid there silently under the sheets. Please go away, please don’t uncover the sheets. The cool air hit you as V pulled the sheets back. Cursing at your luck, you took a peak. Funny how creepy the smiling mask was in the dark. V’s hat was still perched on his head, you realized. His gloved fist was curled around something in his hand. A rose. 

“My songbird, what is the matter,” V asked as he took in your tear stricken face. The moonlight shone onto your beautiful face, revealing the wetness of your cheeks. How beautiful you were. V felt guilty once he saw you huddled under the covers, hiding from something. Could it be from yourself? “You’re late,” you croaked, “it’s almost 5 am.” “I apologize my dear, something went a bit south.” You didn’t say anything. Your eyes clenched shut and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip from trembling. V’s head cocked to the side, his lips pulled into a frown underneath the mask. He called out your name. The softness and caring tone made your eyes snap back at him. Suddenly, a crash of thunder hit. You flinched and wormed yourself underneath the sheets even more. V simultaneously realized, at that very moment, how terrified you were of thunder. He felt stupid as he sat there, staring at your shaking form. Of course you would try to seek out comfort whenever you were scared or moody. Hiding was your last resort if there was no comfort to be found. A hand stroked your head causing you to tense up.

The leather of the glove felt cool, and smooth. Brows drawn, you looked up at V. His right arm extended to you, with the gift he had brought. “V,” you whispered as you stared at him with shock. You gently wrapped your hand around the stem, taking it from his hands. “An apology for returning so late…and to ask for a courtship. With you,” V stammered. Even with the mask, you knew V was flustered. “It’s about time,” you joked, your voice a bit hoarse. “Ah yes, well you see I was so nervous and I-I've never-” You cut him off with your lips. The odd but smooth material of the mask’s lips felt foreign against your soft, warm ones. 

V didn’t even have to feel your lips to know they were the softest thing to exist. He just knew. You pulled away slowly, your cheeks warming up a bit. You were bashful, a gentle smile swept across your lips. “Thank you for the rose, it’s beautiful.” “My beautiful maiden, it is quite dark in here. You could not be quite sure of such a thing.” “I’ll kiss you again, V.” You giggled, as he shut up.

“Close your eyes and keep them closed,” V said. You looked at him confused, “Why?”  “I have another gift.” A brow was raised in his direction. He just gestured at you, waiting patiently. “You’re acting pretty sus not gonna lie, but ok.” Your eyes fluttered shut. Time seemed to pass by awfully slow as you waited. Not to mention, the dark that encased you as your lids closed. “V?” “I’m right here love.” You heard something untying and felt something being placed on the bed. How badly you wanted to open your eyes, but you would not betray V like that. The smoothness of his gloves grasped both of your cheeks softly. His fingers stroked them and held cupped your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut, fighting the urge to open them. What was he doing? Your breath stopped at a halt; his breath was on your lips. He’s going to kiss me! His mask is off! You swallowed nervously as you waited. That’s when you felt it. 

V’s lips were rough and felt scarred. The texture was very different from your own, but you didn’t care. In fact, you cherished it. A sigh escaped your lips as your fingers clutched his cloak, pulling him closer. Teeth nibbled at your lips playfully. V’s scent filled your senses and you felt your head starting to become dizzy. You almost whined once his lips pulled away from yours. Eyes still closed, you waited for the signal to open them again. Your ears perked up as you heard the rustling of cloth and a little grunt from V. “Thank you darling, you can open your eyes again.” There were little dots and squiggles as you opened your eyes, moving in the air. You were a little sad to see the mask on again, but knew better than to press. V would give you the world, but he was still insecure about his skin. You were curious to see him, especially after the glimpse of damaged skin you had seen on his hands. But, you knew better than to ask, let alone force him to show you.

V placed his hat on the bedside table next to him. He was surprised to find you had fallen asleep, though it was quite late. He quietly shimmied out of his cloak and set his knives down on the nightstand. A sigh escaped his lips as he got into more comfortable clothing, followed by discarding his gloves on the table beside him. You had wrapped V around your finger; encasing him with your humour and your kindness. He was at your mercy. You had captivated the man who thought he could no longer feel love. Oh how wrong he was. V wrapped his arms around you and held you close. His art swelled a bit at the sleepy hum you gave him. Your head rested lightly on V’s chest and his arms snuggled you tightly. Your soft snores filled the room once again and V couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Eventually, the masked vigilante fell asleep; the comfort of your love and beauty keeping him warm at night.

[letterstomilen]

i discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)

Childe/Zhongli, Alternate Universe (read part 2 here) When Childe's younger sister tells him about the volunteer at the library, he does not make the connection between that and his new favorite ASMR YouTuber, Rex Lapis.

Childe has a very effective method of getting through college. His little sister, who’s caught him making coffee at three in the morning on more than one occasion the past week alone, would beg to differ. 

“You’re the best older brother,” she starts off, and he’s sure she’s trying to convince herself more than him at this point, “but you need to fix your sleeping habits.” Then, because she’s his little sister, she’d flash him a smile and pat his shoulder reassuringly.

(The comment is not lost on him though. He understands his sleeping situation will eventually wear him down if it hadn’t already, but he believes if he’ll drink a coffee every morning and a Monster every night, he’ll get through three days. By the third day, he’ll hardly be coherent but that doesn’t matter because he’ll conk out for the next twelve hours and then repeat.)

“Don’t worry, Tonia,” he says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible as he contemplates whether it’s worth it or not to swallow a pill of 5-hour energy with his morning coffee. “Once break ends, I’ll get back to normal.”

“You said that six seasons ago.”

Childe frowns, trying to remember if his sleeping schedule was this dysfunctional last year. “Huh?”

“The Walking Dead seasons,” Tonia clarifies, as if she’s not twelve years old and the show is for grown adults. He thinks. He hasn’t checked Commonsensemedia ever since La Signora labeled him as a “helicopter parent” and his Netflix tab has been playing How to Get Away with Murder as background noise for the past few weeks.

Isn’t it a show about zombies though? Tonia’s sheepish smile tells it all, because it’s the same exact guilty look he had when he got caught red-handed as a kid.

(Once he remembers later, Childe promises himself, he’ll check out The Walking Dead.)

“Oh. Well. I have a lot of shows to catch up on, you know. Not to mention a ton of my professors gave me reading for over the break.”

A half lie. They did give him a lot of reading because each professor assumed that their classes were his only one, and with seven days left, he still has a textbook worth of reading to go through. But there are no shows that Childe would sacrifice his precious sleep for. As a matter of fact, he would love to sleep. He’s spent the majority of his classes back in high school sleeping and faking attention, saving his grade at the last minute — it was quite the extreme sport really, if he says so himself.

Whenever he tries to sleep recently, his thoughts run at several hundred miles per hour, and he spends several hours staring at the ceiling before succumbing to the computer at his desk and watching trashy movies. At this point, he must have gone through the entire romance comedy list on Netflix. (Not a proud point in his life but if anybody ever wanted him to give a list of best to worst romance comedy movies, he now has one.)

Tonia, on the other hand, isn’t incredibly convinced.

Admittedly, the excuse was lame. Also, he can’t easily lie to his little sister, who’s far shrewder than he takes her for at times.

“You never start your reading in advance. You like to speed read it right before your class or watch a five-minute video on the chapters while your teachers take attendance. But that’s… uh, ‘a bad work ethic.’” Tonia looks immensely proud of herself as she says this, finishing it off with, “Zhongli told me that.”

“Zhongli?” he repeats, trying to remember if that’s one of her classmates or some stranger that’s hoping to kidnap his sister.

“The guy that volunteers at the library sometimes. He recommended me a loot of good books to read, but he talks like an old man.”

“How old?” Childe can tell she’s enjoying this — talking about her new friend at the library that he’ll probably have to run a background check on.

“Like he’s in his sixties or something. But he looks… actually, he looks your age! And he’s a student too. I told him all about you.”

Well, that doesn’t sound very reassuring coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old. He’s not sure if that translates to his social security number, his current dilemma, or just that he’s her older brother.

“Like all of the stories you told me when I was a kid. And then when Lumine came to pick me up, she stayed to show him pictures of you too.”

“Of course she did,” he mumbles, ruffling her hair. One of these days he’s going to move without telling his classmates and the twins won’t enter his apartment unannounced. (But Tonia adores their company and the stories they tell her far too much for him to actually do it. But that doesn’t mean he’s above making threats when they tell his little sister about the bet he made about white-out and how it could dye hair. The jury is still out on this one.) “She’s just mad because I get away with it and she doesn’t. But don’t do it yourself. It’s a bad habit,” he adds, remembering that he should at least try to be a good influence on his younger sister when he can.

“Okaaay,” she says unconvincingly, before shaking her hair and running off to her room with lunch he prepared for her.

Watching her close the door and no doubt continue her binge of The Walking Dead, he takes out his phone and texts Lumine.

 Childe

12:35

ur a horrible influence on tonia

 Childe

12:35

and whos this ZHONGLI

 Childe

12:35

also is twd appropriate for 12 y/os

 Twin 1

12:37

a normal person would say hi

 Twin 1

12:37

also 1. me n aether watched it when we were 12 so probably and 2. some guy at the library that also goes to our school

 Well. At least he’s somebody they know. But The Walking Dead?

 Childe

12:38

thats not very convincing

 Childe

12:38

also dont ppl DIE? get BITTEN???? what if she gets nightmares

 Twin 1

12:39

isnt she 12 r u telling me u weren’t watching R rated movies at 12

 Childe

12:42

thats very different from a 10 season long show that is hailed as “one of the greatest horror shows in history” and “paved the way for post-apocalyptic horror”

 Twin 1

12:42

well if she has trouble sleeping she could always watch asmr. that helps me during midterms idk

 Childe

12:42

whats asmr

 Childe

12:43

asking for my sister btw

 Twin 1

12:44

A feeling of well-being combined with a tingling sensation in the scalp and down the back of the neck, as experienced by some people in response to a specific gentle stimulus, often a particular sound.

 Childe

12:45

wtf?

 Twin 1

12:45

people on the internet make random sounds or just talk into a mic n its supposed to be very relaxing. how have u never found out abt this?????

 Childe

12:45

idk the only thing on my youtube recommended r greatest stunts and chapter review videos

 Twin 1

12:47

… makes sense

 Twin 1

12:47

check out rex lapis’ channel he looks like ur type

 Childe

12:48

i thought we were talking about my sister????

 Twin 1

12:50

[message screenshots.jpg]

 Twin 1

12:50

ya she told me everything

 Twin 1

12:50

have fun i need to convince aether to not commit arson bc of his TA

 Childe

12:51

hope he does it

He opens his Youtube app, typing in Rex Lapis and expecting Lumine’s suggestion to be a joke. Despite them being friends for nearly two years now, she’s never made any indication of knowing his type. And he’s sure he’s never been that vocal about it either, only shooting appreciative looks at history majors and paying more attention than necessary to the TA for ‘Tradition of Justice and Law.’ (It’s unfortunate that those short-term crushes never led to anything, but maybe that’s for the better seeing that Childe has never understood the appeal of relationships.)

It is an ASMR channel, judging by the ASMR playlist he finds as he scrolls through the account. The icon shows no face — only a microphone — which leaves him skeptical. Most of the video titles belong in a petrology lecture as well, which makes him even more convinced that it’s a joke. He finds a few readings of ancient literature and decides to pick ‘I discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)’ because that’s exactly what he needs. (Not the very moment — but ten hours later when he’s in the bed memorizing the pattern of his ceiling wondering why he stole from his fifth grade teacher’s candy jar during lunch.)

When Childe opens the video, he damn near gasps.

The man in the video is exactly his type. His eyes are a soft amber color, framed with long lashes, and it’s almost enough for him to lose his dignity and message Lumine a long thank you text about how she is always right and he’ll pay for her coffee for the following week.  He smiles at the screen, albeit a little sheepishly, dark hair framing his face with a long ponytail that Childe can’t see the end of. On his right ear, there are a pair of earrings with a single feather that brush against his neck when he moves his head.

Even before he speaks, Childe is mesmerized, sure he’ll already memorize his features from the curve of his nose to the way he tilts his head, displaying the expanse of his neck.

Really — he reminds him of actors in historical dramas, the way he sits regally, and how he speaks. His voice is low and slow as he adopts a careful manner of speaking, leaning into the mic.

“I’m Rex Lapis, and I’ll be discussing igneous petrology today, which is part one in a three-part petrology series. I apologize in advance, seeing that my knowledge is limited compared to many petrologists out there but my friend Venti said that many of my viewers are here for my voice, so I’m very excited to start today’s video.”

Holy shit.

For the following week, Childe learns less about petrology, the philosophy of economics, and historical revisionism concerning matters of war and more about Rex Lapis, who is not in love with his voice but often finds himself in the middle of long tangents without explanations. His favorite book series is the Legend of the Lone Sword, which he says he’ll look forward to reading out loud for the channel. (Childe replays that part of the video again and again, captivated by his excitement as he mindlessly taps the mic while he speaks, his tangent cutting off mid-word — as it usually does, much to his dismay.)

His guilty obsession is not lost on Tonia, who realizes that instead of drinking Monster every night he’s been engrossed in his phone completely, often not noticing her or when the water starts bubbling. But because his sleeping schedule has been alleviated, she says nothing until Lumine comes over as she always does, not forgetting their weekly schedule of watching trashy movies while leeching off of Childe’s food.

Because he doesn’t trust the twins with the kitchen — even if they can cook — she instead spends her time sitting next to Tonia and spreading more of her anti-Childe propaganda while they wait. This usually involves Tonia occasionally calling out Childe’s name and asking, “Is that true?” or “Did you really do that?”

This time is different though.

Worried that Lumine finally decided to show Tonia a video of last semester’s presentation, he leans over, looking at the computer screen.

And he’s wrong. Unfortunately. Maybe it should’ve been his presentation because even if he botched it and accidentally projected his work process — screaming notes and all — to the class instead of his actual presentation, it would’ve been better than the two of them watching one of Rex Lapis’ videos together.

The ‘I read Erosion: Essays of Undoing to you as it rains outside’ video, to be specific, which is where Rex Lapis is embarrassed by Venti mid video when asked if this was his idea of a date with a lover. (And then it ends with Rex Lapis asking for video suggestions from the commentors, his face still flushed from the previous comments.)

Oh God — oh fuck.

“So he is your type,” Lumine says, her expression a bit too smug for his liking. Tonia looks half awake, scrolling through articles as the video plays, more interested in ‘Top 10 Glenn Rhee Moments’ than Childe’s crush. Her expression is a bit guilty as she does so — she’s biting her lip and avoiding his gaze, but he assumes that it’s just because they went through his YouTube history.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” he retorts, but the YouTube history she pulls up once Tonia hands the computer over to her says it all. (It’s quite mortifying, really — even Tonia is giving him a look, but it’s not as bad as Lumine’s shit eating grin.)

“Well… he does have a nice voice,” Childe finally says, thinking that perfectly encompasses his most recent obsession. Because he does have a nice voice — it’s soothing and speaks to him without really speaking to him directly. (The good looks are a bonus, he assures himself. A fantastic bonus, but a bonus nonetheless.)

“He does,” Tonia confirms, smiling toothily up at him, and he resists the urge to ruffle her hair with Lumine staring at him so skeptically. “But I don’t understand much of what he’s saying. He — heh — talks like an old man.”

“Don’t worry, Tonia, your brother likes him because he’s attractive,” Lumine informs her, now fast forwarding on one of Rex Lapis’ videos. “Did you know that he lives nearby?”

“Huh?”

The knife he’s holding clatters to the floor, and the two look down and back up at him with— hold on, why does it feel like they’re in on a secret he doesn’t know about?

“Yeah, he’s working on his grad thesis I think… Aether told me it was about something on history,” she muses. “That’s why I recommended his channel to you. He’s a bit of a celebrity in his department.” Childe’s sure his jaw dropped now, trying to maintain his facial expression as he takes out a new knife to chop up the onions.

“Really,” he tries to say as calmly as possible, wondering how he should accompany Aether to his lectures without trying to seem as obvious as possible. His voice is a bit shaky he realizes but he can’t quite make the connection between Rex Lapis and actual graduate student that goes to his university.

“Yeah, actually…” Lumine is definitely pretending to think now, enjoying this far too much. “He—”

“It’s Zhongli!” his little sister yells excitedly, practically jumping up and down at this point as if she won the lottery. “Zhongli runs an ASMR channel and he talks just like that in real life! Right, Lumine?”

“Yeah.”

Childe sighs, holding a hand up to his face. The realization that he’s been obsessed with the same guy that hears about every stupid thing he did secondhand is way too much — and the fact that he’s been listening to his voice every night before he went to bed the past week is way too much. He’s sure his face is redder than before judging by the amused expressions on Lumine’s and Tonia’s faces — really, they’re mirror images of each other right now.

Not for the first time, Childe swears to himself that he’ll never let her into his apartment without signing a contract ever again.

[dolansontheblock]

Part 4 of forgotten dates? Sorry, I just love it (but also no rush, please dont feel pressured)!

masterlist

Pleaseee post a forgotten dates part 4 pleassee. I love the series!!!

hiiii the only reason why y’all are getting this update is bc leena really made me feel special so go & thank @dolandazeee for this update lmao. i also want you to know that assault is a very serious thing & i do not take it lightly. please don’t read if you are easily triggered by these things. i love you all very much & you deserve the world. i’m always here to listen if you need me❤️

tw: drugs, alludes to assault

Grayson Dolan has never been so nervous, his knee was bouncing so fast while he looked out the window, bright lights blurred by the speed of the car and the tears he was holding back.

Ethan was speeding towards the club that Hannah had told them they were at. Grayson had gotten a text from her while him and Ethan were renting a car, and both of their hearts dropped to their stomach.

idk where you are, but i think y/n’s in trouble, pls come if you’re not already on your way.

Grayson never responded so fast to a message, asking for their location and jumping in the rental.

He knew they were breaking many traffic laws, but they still weren’t going fast enough. Hannah didn’t give specifics, so Grayson’s mind was going crazy with all the what if’s.

“E, please.” Grayson whimpered from the passenger seat. He felt so small and helpless, knowing you were in trouble and he wasn’t there to protect you. Ethan pressed on the gas a little harder after hearing his voice crack, causing his heart to crack as well. He felt just as helpless as Grayson did.

Once the club was in view, Grayson unbuckled his seatbelt and had a hand on the door handle, prepared to jump out of the car at a seconds notice. The car swerved right in front of the club, not even in a parking spot but neither of them gave a shit.

The bouncer seemed to hesitate to let them in, until Grayson pulled out a few hundred dollar bills and uttered the words ‘There’ll be more if you let us in right now.’

As soon as he got into the club, his eyes began darting all over the place, trying to find a familiar face, trying to find you. After a few seconds Ethan spots Hannah and pointed here out to Grayson. They pushed their way through the crowd and as soon as they were in hearing distance, Hannah pointed to a back hallway

“She went that way with a guy we met earlier. I tried to stop her Gray, I’m so sorry.” She began to cry, feeling like she failed her friend. Grayson never ran so fast in his life, opening every door he came across before he opened one leading out to the back alleyway, looking around. He didn’t see you, but he heard your voice and his heart dropped. As he turned the corner, he saw you pinned up against the brick wall by a man and he saw red. You had tears in your eyes, makeup all smudged and your dress was high up your thighs.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” He pulled the collar of the man’s shirt before he pinned him against the wall. The man was clearly high on something, but he didn’t know what.

“Dude what are you doing, that’s just my girl.” Hearing those words ignited a fire of rage inside Grayson. That’s when he threw the first punch. He went into a fit of rage, throwing punch after punch. He almost didn’t hear your cries for him to stop. At first you thought you were dreaming when you saw Grayson, you mind drifting to a happy place. But when you felt him pull off the man, you knew he was real. You didn’t know what to do besides cry and call for him. You felt so weak, sitting on the ground against the cold brick wall, clutching onto yourself as you cried.

Ethan appeared with two security guards and ran towards you, holding you protectively and yelling for Grayson.

That’s the moment when Grayson came back to, looking over to see you in Ethan’s arms. The guards pulled him off of the man and he let them, walking towards you before he let his guard down, tears falling on his cheeks before he sat down and pulled you into his lap.

“Baby,” He held you while you cried into him, completely in shock of what just happened. “Y/N, I am so so sorry. You’re safe now, okay?” You couldn’t stop crying, you truly felt like you were falling apart. Only moments ago you thought were your last, you felt so small, so stupid. There was the sound of sirens in the distance growing louder and louder, things started to blur together and you weren’t sure if it was from everything you took tonight or from what just happened.

“Do you know what exactly she took tonight?” Someone asked, you didn’t recognize the voice.

“Uh we’ve been drinking all night, I know she also took a few pills from that guy, I’m not sure what they were though.” You could just make out the words, voice belonging to Hannah. She sounded like she was crying. You felt yourself being laid down onto something cushioned, you could imagine it might be a gurney but your head hurt so bad, body felt so weak, you just wanted to fall asleep. You almost did but then you felt hands on you and began to panic. Your eyes shot open and you sat up, kicking your legs around to get them off you. You were screaming and crying, you didn’t know what was going on, only that you didn’t want to be touched.

“Baby. Y/N, please stop, it’s okay!” He was right next to you, trying to calm you down. His hands were up in surrender, not sure what to do. He was the only touching you, trying to get you on the gurney in a position that you wouldn’t fall off.

“I-I’m so s-sorry, I didn’t m-mean to h-h-hurt you.” You didn’t know what to do, what to feel. Every touch felt like his, even though it was Grayson. You felt so guilty. Grayson was trying to help you, but all you could feel was him. You felt dirty. You felt small, you wished you were someplace else, far way from here. You wish you could could fade away to nothing.

[gin-and-total-annihilation]

more spop not!fic that actually turns into fic bc i am trash

I will preface this entirely-too-long post by saying I’ve read very, very little spop fanfic, and the few I’ve read since s5 dropped are all Catradora oneshots that are, um, a little hyperfocused. (Read: Y’all really have some Ideas about how a sword lesbian and a cat lesbian have The Sex, don’tcha.) So it’s entirely probably that the scenario I’m imagining here has been done before, possibly a lot, and likely better than how I’ve imagined it. This is me, 15 minutes late with Starbucks.

But can you imagine how hard it would be for Catra to integrate into the Princess Alliance? I mean, the show depicts the BFS adopting her pretty much immediately with, like, zero hesitations over their past history with her (a few sarcastic one-liners tossed here and there don’t count as processing, imho). But the kingdom at large? Not to mention the other kingdoms? Catra was the face of the invasion for such a long time. She had a specific angle to take out She-Ra, the ubiquitously-loved and lauded hero of Etheria. Yes, she helped save the planet/universe from Horde Prime, but once the banners and balloons come down, there’s still a reckoning to be had.

Mermista alternately pokes fun at Catra for being afraid of water, and takes any opportunity to “accidentally” splash her

Netossa brings a squirt bottle to any meeting where Catra is invited, and offers at some point to make Adora a magic leash for her

Frosta doesn’t particularly say or do anything, but she makes extra sure to exude icy menace in Catra’s direction. Okay, one time she maybe accidentally zings Catra during iceball, but everyone else thought it was funny!

Out of respect for Scorpia’s friendship with Catra, Perfuma doesn’t stoop to playing pranks, but she does pointedly remark on how muddled Catra’s chi is, a lot. Sometimes in the middle of a meeting, if Catra is arguing with someone, Perfuma will airily announce to the whole room that negative energy is starting to interfere with their goals again, and it looks like she’ll have to sage the meeting room again. After which Catra usually just gives up and sulks in silence

Micah is fairly neutral on the subject of Catra, considering she’s part of his daughter’s “best friend squad” and is also dating She-Ra, Princess of Power, demigod of the wind and sea, vanquisher of Horde Prime, hero of Etheria. But he does get moody sometimes looking at the mural of Angella, and a couple of times he’ll go Dad Mode and tell Glimmer she reminds him of her mother, but then he’ll glance at Catra and change the subject.

And like, Catra gets it, okay? She fucked up. She was the bad guy. And these people are princesses. If there’s anything Catra knows is true, it’s that princesses are champions at Not Letting It Go. So she mostly just lets it roll off her shoulders. (Okay, yes, sometimes she goads them, and yes, she should keep her mouth shut more instead of trading barbs, but what do you want from her? Being catty is her thing.) After all, she got her happily ever after. She got Adora. And that’s really all that she cares about. So a couple of whiny, poofy, pastel-wearing bimbos wanna take cheap shots at her? Ha. Catra wrote the book on petty. She grew up in the Horde. Let ‘em do their worst. 

Except Adora gets Big Mad about it.

I imagine Adora not only notices how the other princesses act around Catra, she sees Catra doing her best to ignore it. Melog is a pretty good indicator of Catra’s temper, and so it’s clear that the hazing irritates the shit out of Catra, but true to her word, she’s been working on her anger, so aside from sarcasm the worst anyone gets out of a her is a scowl, a flicking tail and ears, and Melog’s brief display of red-tinged spines and growling. 

So Adora is proud, seriously! Catra has come a long way from where she was in the Horde. But Adora, the OG “Punch Your Feelings Out Guy”, wants to remind the other princesses that Catra’s not the only one who changed sides.

Naturally, she does this by losing her temper and shouting them down during another all-princess meeting where everyone is subtly picking on Catra.

“What is your problem? Catra’s on our side now! Why are you all still acting like this?”

Mermista, never one to back down from a verbal slap-fest, gamely engages. “Um, not everyone thinks that just because Catra made, like, one good choice, she gets a free pass on all her other ones.”

“Forgiveness is a process, Adora,” says Perfuma primly, ignoring the glare Adora sends her way. “You can’t expect everyone to accept Catra immediately. We need time to work through our negative associations with Catra so that we can begin the healing process.”

Catra rolls her eyes, but Adora throws her hands in the air. “Immediately? It’s been months! And you’re not working through anything! You’re bullying her!”

At this point, Catra is almost offended at all this implies. “Uh, excuse me, no one bullies me, okay. I can take anything they throw at me.”

“Ha, that’s funny,” says Netossa sweetly. “Because that’s not what you say anytime I have this in my hand!” She brandishes the squirt bottle, and Catra’s ears flatten but she keeps herself from flinching.

Adora slaps the table. “See! Bullying!”

“Adora, calm down,” says Glimmer, sighing with a hand over her eyes. At her side, Bow splays both hands in a gesture that simultaneously tries to placate everyone.

“Okay, look, everyone,” he says. “A couple of jokes are one thing, but Adora’s got a point. It’s going a little too far.”

“Oh? Was it also going a little too far when Catra wrecked my castle and destroyed Princess Prom?” says Frosta, crossing her arms.

“Or when she decimated the Whispering Woods?” adds Perfuma.

“Or when she attacked my kingdom?” Mermista, chin on fist, rolls her eyes. “And, you know, stole it for a while.”

“Or when she sent Entrapta to Beast Island?” Perfuma turns to put a hand on Entrapta’s shoulder, but Entrapta’s eyes have gone starry.

“Oooh, I liked Beast Island! The tech there was superb! Maybe I can go back with all the resources at my disposal, now that I’m not an exiled prisoner anymore, and see if I can finally succeed in reversing the polarity of the--”

“See,” says Perfuma hastily, “she was exiled and a prisoner! With no, um, resources!”

“Look, Adora, it’s great that you and Catra are happy together,” says Frosta, with the deadpan expression of a fourteen-year-old who does not mean a single thing she says. “But I still don’t like her.”

“My heart breaks,” mutters Catra, but Adora leans over the table, eyes closing in a bid for patience.

“I’m not asking anyone to like her. I’m just saying, stop bullying her.”

“Uh, again, I’m not--”

Adora spears Catra with a single look, and Catra subsides, a little stunned at the turbulence in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“It’s mean,” Adora goes on, “and it’s pointless, since Catra is on our side now. I know there’s history there, but we are in the process of rebuilding Etheria and creating an example to show the other worlds we’re trying to reach. So just--chill, okay?”

A moment of silence greets this declaration. Then Frosta looks away with a snort.

“I’ll show her some chill,” she mutters.

Catra desperately wants to roll her eyes. “Give it a rest, kid.”

Frosta shoots to her feet, a layer of ice sheeting the table under her hands. “Don’t talk down to me, Horde scum!”

Melog leaps onto the table, its mane blazing so deep a red it’s nearly black. Chaos erupts as various shouts of “Melog, no!” and “Watch out!” tangle in the air. Catra rises from her seat, alarmed that Frosta is about to ice-punch her alien cat, when thunder cracks and a deep, throaty voice shouts, “Enough!”

She-Ra stands in battle stance, glowering at the room’s occupants, light pouring off her. The sword is held in a neutral rest position in her hand, though every inch of her (and there’s a lot of them) seems to be vibrating with energy.

Catra clears her throat as Melog instantly goes liquid-blue and pounces to She-Ra’s side, curling around and around her legs with undisguised adoration.

Melog, it seems, has no concept of chill.

The princesses all resume their seats, staring at the beast they’d been seconds from attacking as it practically rolls on the ground at She-Ra’s feet. Their eyes go from She-Ra to Melog to Catra, who expertly pretends to be unaffected and unblushing.

“Catra is not a threat,” says She-Ra in that voice, and Melog agrees blissfully, rubbing its head against her hip. Catra opens her mouth to protest, but sighs and shuts up. No point in protesting that you’re a badass when your psychic mood-ring therapy cat goes belly-up anytime your hot warrior girlfriend looks at you.

“Catra deserves another chance. She’s already proven herself by helping us defeat Prime.” She-Ra lays a single hand on Melog’s head. Catra wants to bury her face in her hands at the sound the alien cat makes.

“But how can we trust her when she used to fight for the Horde!” protests Frosta.

“So did I,” says She-Ra quietly, and it’s like all the air gets sucked out the room.

“So did Entrapta and Scorpia--” Perfuma’s eyes drop to the table at this. “--and you, Mermista--” Mermista sighs, but doesn’t argue. “and Spinnerella--” Even though She-Ra’s voice is gentle, Spinnerella’s eyes still well with tears, and Netossa tries to glare while she comforts her wife, but even she looks guilty. “--and King Micah, and Shadow Weaver--” Even though Glimmer wasn’t one of the princesses giving Catra shit, she still winces and leans closer to Bow. “And we gave every single one of them a second chance before the war was even ended. What makes Catra different from them?”

“She wasn’t mind-controlled!” argues Frosta.

“Yes, she was!” shoots back She-Ra, and Catra can’t help the flinch, the instinct to reach back and rub her neck. Her hair is just starting to be long enough to cover the faint scar of the implant.

“Okay, for like, a second, but even before Horde Prime, Catra was--”

“Catra and I were both abused and manipulated by Shadow Weaver.” There’s a thread of pain in She-Ra’s voice now. “From the time we were infants. We never stood a chance against her.”

“But you escaped,” says Perfuma, almost as a question. “You changed your mind about the Horde, and you left.”

Catra stares at the table. She can feel She-Ra’s eyes glance toward her. Melog gives a solemn mrow of comfort, pulsing aqua-blue. Without warning, light flares again and Adora is standing at Catra’s side, hands empty.

“If I hadn’t found the sword in the Whispering Woods, it would have been me marching on your kingdoms,” says Adora, and everyone shuffles uncomfortably. “I was chosen to be Force Captain just a couple hours before. It was dumb luck that I fell off that skiff and landed where I did.”

“It was destiny,” argues Perfuma. “You were chosen to be She-Ra! You would have found the sword at some point!”

“By that point, would it have mattered?” Adora’s hand strokes Melog’s ears. Catra swears she can feel the ghost of those fingers on her own head. “I wouldn’t have had Bow and Glimmer to show me what the Horde was really doing. I would have had Shadow Weaver and Hordak reinforcing my training.”

“You would have found a way to become She-Ra,” says Perfuma earnestly. “The universe would have aligned somehow--”

“And whose kingdom would have already fallen to the Horde by the time that happened?” Adora lifts her hands helplessly. “Don’t you get it? If I hadn’t discovered I was She-Ra, I would have become Catra.”

They stare at her, apparently never having put the dots together before. Catra, who has always been smarter than these princesses, leans back in her chair.

“Maybe,” she says, smirking up at her girlfriend. “But I wore it better.”

aslfja;lskdjfl;a this is already too long and it half-morphed into fic, so I’ll just summarize by saying everyone is a little sorry that they’ve been bullying Catra, and Catra refuses to admit she’s been bullied because of course she does, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t hugely touched and grateful that for once Adora fought to protect her from her princess friends. The Alliance goes forward with the intent of trying to behave better towards Catra. It helps that they saw Melog turn into a jello-mold as soon as She-Ra appeared, so they have proof positive that Catra is indeed not a threat and is in fact secretly a jello mold herself. The bullying turns into heckling whenever Catra and Adora goo-goo-eye each other. Which is a lot. Frosta makes an ice sculpture of Catra swooning into Adora’s arms (her art skills mysteriously improve enough to clearly depict Catra with heart eyes and Adora with bulging biceps). Perfuma decorates it with flowers. Netossa puts a forcefield net around it so Catra can’t destroy it. Catra sulks and Adora flexes her muscles to make her feel better. the end???

bonus line I couldn’t figure out how to incorporate: “Uh, Entrapta has two Hordaks and I don’t see anyone giving her crap about them!”

[theasstour]

i think you should really focus on writing bc *you* want to and not just bc of how many interactions ur work gets.. i see u saying all the time that if a piece doesn’t get more attention then ur not gonna write anymore and 😭😭 guilt tripping at its finest. you do realize that some ppl don’t read stuff until it’s completed? or maybe think about how it’s finals season so a lot of people can’t be spending time reading stuff for fun. your work is really really good and it’s such a shame that you cry about interactions. which i get, trust me, i do. it takes a lot of energy writing and blah blah blah bUT AGAIN . if u just did it bc it’s fun and you love it then maybe u won’t find it so exhausting writing. and maybe u do write bc u love it and it’s fun and ur just bummed out bc u don’t get a lot of interaction but c’mon bestie ppl won’t always be available to read ur work RIGHT AWAY. some might read it in like 5 months or some might read it next week. just be patient and write bc u love it and not bc ur seeking a lot of interactions

“I think” literally WHERE did I ask? Did I post a question somewhere of sorts that you’re answering? I’m sure I didn’t, and last time I checked I didn’t ask for your opinion. Idk why you thought you should share it. Imagine coming into my askbox after I asked people to come talk to me after they finish reading chapter 10 of my new fic and instead of sending a nice message about that story or ANY of my stories and anything nice, you send this. I can’t even take you seriously cos you typed all that out, clicked the anonymous button, and sent it. Say stuff like this with your whole chest or piss right off. Thankfully, I’m in a really fucking sour mood cos of this so I’m just gonna go ahead and answer each bit of your ask! Since you were so thoughtful as to share your thoughts regarding me “cry(ing) about interactions”, I’m just gonna go ahead and “guilt trip” you some more, ey?! Let’s go!!!

Right, “i think you should really focus on writing bc *you* want to and not just bc of how many interactions ur work gets.. i see u saying all the time that if a piece doesn’t get more attention then ur not gonna write anymore and 😭😭 guilt tripping at its finest.” “All the time”??? When in the last 24 hours did I “cry” about this?? I’ve said it one time these last 24 hours, and the time before that I asked people SEVEN chapters ago to please interact with the new chapters. Please send me a few links as evidence, thanks! If you can’t find anything, then you’re just trying to fit this into your own stupid narrative to make me into some sort of writer villain I- aifjeiogjoi You obviously don’t know that I graduated from university last year with a BA in Creative Writing and English Literature, so posting my writing onto here isn’t for any other reason than how fun I think it is when my readers and I interact, when we talk and just have fun together. I have COUNTLESS of stories stored on my laptop that are only for me, only cos I love writing so much. The people that do take the time out of their day to subscribe to my Patreon, rb, add a comment, add something in the tags, send me asks, comment on wattpad, vote on wattpad make posting my writing on here worth it. I’m posting content FOR FREE, of course I just want people to do the decent thing and give something back in a rb or feedback. That’s not guilt tripping. I’m not “mak(ing) (someone) feel guilty, especially in order to induce them to do something”, I’m asking for something in return, something that will simply take someone an extra minute, not even that, to make my entire day. If anything, YOU’RE guilt tripping ME for saying I should write “not bc (I’m) seeking a lot of interactions” and trying to make me feel horrible by implying I shouldn’t expect feedback in any form from the people that have read the new chapter, but rather just post my stuff and get nothing in return for posting something for free online. If that’s not what you meant, then it sure sounded like it.

“you do realize that some ppl don’t read stuff until it’s completed?” I completely understand that. “or maybe think about how it’s finals season so a lot of people can’t be spending time reading stuff for fun.” I know it’s a hectic time of year. I’ve literally been at uni for the last three years. I know, any person with more than three braincells do. It’s so funny to me that you don’t think I take these things into consideration AOIJFREIOWJOI

“your work is really really good and it’s such a shame that you cry about interactions. which i get, trust me, i do. it takes a lot of energy writing and blah blah blah bUT AGAIN .” This reads like you think me saying I want people to give me feedback - to give back for giving free literature for you to read online - takes away from how good my content is. “It’s such a shame” and what? Does me saying I want feedback IMMEDIATELY make my writing less appealing to you? Less good? That’s literally so ridiculous I’m laughing. In that case, you can get off my blog, stop reading my stuff, and maybe find someone else’s stories to read. I certainly don’t want you reading mine. And OIJAFOREIGJREIOJ “which I get trust me I do” you CLEARLY don’t. The “it takes a lot of energy to write and blah blah blah” says it all. I want people to take one to five minutes out of their day after reading my stuff to just send me some feedback or reblog my stuff with a nice comment or tags. THAT’S ALL I ask for. It takes me HOURS to write something you consume in a matter of minutes. It doesn’t make sense to me why people would choose to stay silent and not give something back when they just consumed literal books online for free.

“if u just did it bc it’s fun and you love it then maybe u won’t find it so exhausting writing.” Again, can you send me a link to the place where I said writing is exhausting? I can’t recall I’ve ever said that. It’s literally an outlet for me, I need to write. So, please, do send me a link. Thanks.

“and maybe u do write bc u love it and it’s fun and ur just bummed out bc u don’t get a lot of interaction but c’mon bestie ppl won’t always be available to read ur work RIGHT AWAY.” You had me up until that “but” ahaiueigh sad. For a second I had an ounce of hope. And don’t call me “bestie”! I’m not your friend! I don’t know you! You don’t know me! And, as I think I’ve made perfectly clear throughout this whole answer, I’m aware not everyone who follows me will read my stuff and that those that want to might not have the time right away. You really don’t give me ANY credit, do you AIOJFREIOWGJRWEIOJG

“some might read it in like 5 months or some might read it next week.” I’m not telling people that haven’t read my new fic to come interact with me about the latest chapter????? I’m asking those that HAVE read it????????????? Why would I want those that are saving up so they can read it in one go or those that don’t have the time to come gush about something they haven’t read???

“just be patient and write bc u love it and not bc ur seeking a lot of interactions” I’m patient when I want to be, I’m always patient on here. I love writing. I want people who read my work to just simply reblog, send an ask, add in the tags, add a comment, vote and comment on wattpad. I won’t stop writing if I stop posting on here, I’ll still write on Patreon. I just won’t make my writing available to people like you who would rather type out this entire stupid ask and send it on anon, and the idea of not making my writing available to people that think like this seems really appealing right about now. Cheers.

[rupertgayesarchive]

surgery anon again and YEA I remember all my questions. the big ones were... who sent him back. i was like hm cas died b4 Chuck died. Chuck possibly sent him back to save himself? OH ALSO did death send cas back to save himself (herself? is billie dead. the death sent him back theory is sponsored by a line in chapter 25 where dean is thinking about sending sam a postcard and an old man is staring at him being like send ur brother a post card before it’s too late. racked my brain for who r old men in supernatural who could do time travel and would be not evil but not making things easy either. and my sister was like ‘oh well death’) ALSO i went in for a long while about what cas would do when he got his memories back. i remember being like the fic is INSANELY in character so we should draw our conclusions from what already exists in canon, like 7.17. so cas would probably start worrying immediately about if they ended up defeating Chuck and probably assume that Chuck sent him back. also he’d probably worry that he like.. took advantage of dean or something because he’s insane. and then I was like he’d probably want to know if Chuck, assumed to be the one who sent him back, was in like current timeline heaven. also at this point my sister began giving input as well she became my sounding board lmaooo. we were like well he wouldn’t be able to go to heaven probably so he’d need to ask an angel.

also I was very jntersted in this because cas having positive relationships with some of his siblings is... very nice to see and the most underutilized part of spn. so I was like he’d probably wanna call or summon an angel to talk. but also a ton of angels that he personally killed would be alive again and I think he’d feel really guilty/overwhelmed so he wouldn’t wanna trap any of them? so I was trying to list off all the angels that cas canonically was friends with or implied to be close to prior to Lazarus Rising. and my list was like... ok samandriel, hester, balthazar. a bunch of others who im forgetting right now. but then my sister was like wouldn’t naomi simply have lobotomized them. and I was like oh true!! well... balthazar faked his own death prior to season 6. and he and cas were canonically very good friends before balthazar went to earth. BUT, balthazar stated that cas rebelling was the final reason that he decided to fake his death. BUT ALSO... I feel like.. the timeline works out like 2008 cas pulls dean out of hell. 2009-10 he rebels against heaven. there’s like a few months period where Balthazar could have faked his death and then around a year to fully embrace hedonism. so I feel like... even before cas rebelled he would’ve been like shirking his duties or something in an Aziraphale good omens type beat. this also accounts for naomi not paying attention to him. SO LIKE... also this is just an elaborate explanation for why balthazar, who I love, should be in ur fic. but I think for these reasons it makes sense that future cas, with this knowledge, would summon balthazar for help? questions? idk, I just liked cas having an angel who was friendly with him and he trusted. i mean your fic has given cas so many friends and I love it I’d be fine if you didn’t introduce any new characters at all! i just thought it’d be interesting to see and also be a good way to introduce like you know.., broader angels i suppose. if the time travel shenanigans are sticking to the s1-2 timeline angels couldn’t be super heavily involved, unless cas butterfly effect-ed it (which is mad interesting) anyway I think cas would be panicked about the future and last and would wanna ask about the state of heaven, if Chuck was there in the current timeline. and I think it’d make the most sense and least disturbance that he summon balthazar. because they were friends and also I don’t think balthazar would like.. tell anybody.

im literally SO sorry this is so long and I’m like hm. maybe i should send a second ask with more thoughts. anyways i hope you’re having a good night im feeling better already :)

i’m loving the ask box essays, truly we’ve never been more free when we’re allowed unlimited characters in our messages to other tumblr accounts.

i guess i shouldn’t be surprised that people wonder how cas got sent back, like that was one of the first things i knew about this fic, the who did it part, but in my mind it didn’t really matter/isn’t as interesting as what happens BECAUSE he’s sent back (you will get an answer to the ‘who’ btw. eventually. there are some hints in my fic as well as what some people have commented and things that are in my heard from your mother au tag on here...)

when cas gets his memories back, there are several things happening at once, so he may need to put his 12 years of trauma on the backburner for a bit lol.

angels will appear to some extent as well. i think it’s interesting that despite some of the higher-ups making remarks that cas has a ‘crack in his chassis’ and had to keep getting mind wiped, quite a few other angels seemed to like and respect him, at least earlier on in the show. he had enough, idk, charisma? to lead angel armies. more than once, too! that, combined with the fact that other angels besides him need to get sent to naomi imply (even if spn didn’t really do much w it bc, you know,) that a decent amount of angels may be more into humanity and free will than we’d think. i’m sure we don’t see so many of them later on bc, you know, most of them are dead, but at this point in the show? who’s to say. cas spends enough time reading about class consciousness that he starts an angel union against lobotomies lmao. they can’t take ‘em all, right?

i also think cas needs to end my fic by having twenty hand made friendship bracelets worn on both wrists at all times and ppl constantly blowing up his phone bc he’s that guy!! :) 

[wisteria-lodge]

a thank you from an unburning lion secondary, with faulty bird model

I’m the lion primary who was doubting itself and who talked their way in your anon box to understanding themselves. You were pretty comprehensive and it was nice to really notice we share primaries xD One thing shocked me and left me O_O was at the end, when I left that commentary about bullies (my school knew me both for my excellent notes and my fights both bcs i couldnt left a situation alone) and you said, wow and a lion secondary.

i was shocked. Like I say this and I remember my earlier years and the problems I’ve always have talking with people and it’s my bluntness and lack of attention to others feelings which had always have my mother scolding me after going out with her or talking with friends or telling her about any interaction. Same with my father. And then I stopped. I started reading, I fell for fanfiction and manga, and lost my childhood friends bcs I coudn’t relate to them, and during all of HS until my second year of university I was so so alone. 

And I didn’t speak out about my feels. I still don’t. Not to my family not to anybody. I felt so guilty, because once upon a time I did whatever I felt and then I learnt that being so intelligent, and open about my feelings and my life was unsensible to people, and then I learnt (justly so I think) that I shoudn’t act without thinking about others. 

But I feel somewhere in the way, I started feeling guilty of being myself. I learnt I’m too much for people. Now I over-analyze every interaction I have; have i overshared anything? Did i let the other talk and express themselves? I do it before taking charge in a group assignment or outing bcs I internalised that they don’t want it, that I’m being annoying reminding them of the tasks or the things we should be doing. 

You need to sweet-talk people, and I’m bad at it and although sometimes it can be funny most often is just plain tiring. And I’m the first surprised when someone is direct about anything. I like so much, so much learning about things, I feel deep inside the correct way of approaching problems should be to consider them from every angle, analyze the facts and the feelings they provoke and then come up with a good solution; I write and I want to investigate everything before starting any story but I’m completely unable to do so. Same with my studies, same with people. 

And then I wing it and it results so much better and it’s frustrating. People say: you’re so good at this, you must study/dedicate so much time to it. And I just do enough to get an intuitive understanding of the concept and then improvise, and I feel like a fake. 

When I have time and I’m methodical, it’s satisfying (better for memorising and studying languages too) but the truth is that I function better when I hit the ground running. I think this society doesn’t like lion secondaries very much unless you’re a shit man. Then is suddenly comprehensible if not appreciated. So I picked a faulty model bird because it’s useful, right? And i like it from time to time.

But I feel like the idea people have of me, about how I act is all bird and it’s stiffling but I let myself go and don’t act in my feels or my thougths because there no reason at all to be myself and I watch myself writing this and wow. Suddenly my mother is telling me why am i not as outgoing as when i was young or my new friends are surprised because my personality changes. Like an onion: outwardly I don’t care about anything, then you discover I’m very intense about lots of things but very nonchalantly (I left clues and you have to pick them, bcs I’m not verbalising you know?), then you never know what I feel about those things except for whatever observation you’ve made. You just know the loudness. My mother tells me I never talk to her about myself, but still she knows how to pick what I feel about people and situations bcs I’m that obvious I guess.

But she was who taught me to think twice bcs nobody wants to feel stupid or wronged (neither do I, I understand). My father never liked who I was; why wasnt I more social, more normal, why did I have to be so strange so openly. (It’s mostly I’m half-sure I fall somewhere in the lower gifted range + maybe some neurodivergence, but in my country they don’t adapt nor care for above average students and a test sounds ridiculous and attention seeking and too expensive when I do fine right now.) 

Can’t deny the lion, but I never talk. Except on internet anonymously. Bcs contradictions are funny and you’re really kind. Again, about the start of this megapost. It was so surprising when you saw directly through that ask to the secondary, that I teared up. Yes, yes, that’s who I am why hasn’t anybody told me it’s ok to be sincere and direct? Why?

I was toying with bird and snake but those are covers. Trying to perform snake when I’m uncomfortable or I haven’t got familiarity with the people and bcs it’s improvising it’s easier, and model bird when I can with all knowledge I don’t even notice I have aquired reading what amounts to tons of wish-fulfilling fantasies. Like. It’s posible to burn a secondary? Bcs I think that’s what’s happened to me. And I’m trying little by little to recover that trust in my actions because I know I’m better that way, that I feel good being direct about things but I’m so afraid of others… Perseverance though!!! 

This sorting system has helped me see that, more than astrology. Mostly, these last years i had a wrong feeling about myself. I think this helped articulate why. This so maudlin omg xD But you received well my semi-creepy murderous self-isolating primary post so. Sorry again, and thank you.

PS: love to anybody who has ever felt like me. Also, mom is def a badger primary, now that i think about it. She really, really likes working with people, meeting with friends, helping them etc. ended up teaching yoga. She is super direct too, so maybe we share the secondary... which is rich, but also why I think she is also strict that sense. Thinking she doesn't want to see me suffering like her + why i frustrate her when i retreat into myself too. good old projection. THE END XD

My dear Lion ~ 

You sound like me. And yes, you will be “too much” for some people. But I promise you. There will be others who love you for exactly that intensity. Putting masses of planning and up-front effort into something doesn’t make the end result any better. I’m a badger secondary, that was a tough realization to have. And it’s okay to be afraid. But you seem on top of this. You’re going to be okay. 

(also, your English is fantastic. Really, really nice use of the word “maudlin.”) 

Good hunting ~ WL