#im going to chew my own arm off i swear

[koifsssh]

AN (IN)FORMAL EXPLANATION.

i have to talk about this before i chew my own arm off.

Maverick and Rainy's relationship is best described as frustrating. At least when it comes to how their mindsets clash with one another.

For context! Rainy has always been the "level-headed" one of the family, you need to be in order to keep so many secrets for the Boss! Even with such a level head however, stress is easy to accumulate, double that with being kidnapped and shot in the face and you broke the camels back, so to speak!

( a bit of rambling below! as well as cw! blood!)

It was a fact that if you died you could just come back, he had seen it time and time again, it wasn't a surprise when he woke up in a bed... okay well, it was a bit of a surprise, but who could blame him?

it was a first, and in any other circumstance, I would think traumatic!

To put it simply, reality broke a little for him. Rainy began to... ask questions he didn't really think of asking before. What exactly brought them all back? Why? What brought them back exactly? He knew of "Father" but who was "Father" anyway? It's not like he could talk to anyone about such a thing, the Boss had chosen him specifically to keep his mind a vault, being someone's Eyes and Ears is no easy feat, i assure you! A title with a heavy weight. You could almost say it was an awakening to the web of lies and soft spoken words he was so delicately placed in the center of. How distressing!

Of course, reality would set in, and Rainy's usual cool and collected demeanor cracked a little, and since Maverick was always nearby, he was always there to witness the waves of distress befall him.

Not that it happens all the time! Just... you know!

Don't even get me started on Maverick... the poor guy has been through the ringer, and Rainy is simply the icing on top of the angst cake.

perhaps @thatthirstyweirdo will make a post for him...

(LOOKING DIRECTLY AT YOU.)

needless to say, Rainy has become disinterested with life in a way, and because of this he kind of became reckless his own. (not that he goes out of his way to do anything dangerous! he just doesn't care to be as careful anymore, which in turns stresses Maverick out!)

It doesn't help with them being as close as they are, and it especially hurts Maverick to see Rainy in such a state.

Ahhh, what is he to do? He can only dream of better things.

[freyito]

ʜᴀɴᴋᴇʀɪɴ' ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ in which: boothill's been quiet since he came back from penacony. way too quiet.

✧ a/n: little by little im chipping away at my depressive episode and building my motivation again

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, 2.6 spoilers, mention of torture, hurt/comfort, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

Ever since his most recent trip to Penacony, Boothill had been spacing out more when he got home. He insisted, very firmly, that you stay at home this time, leaving no room for any discussion. You were to stay home no matter what, and if he found you had tried to sneak out, even to the town, there would be words to be had. He was never this demanding, and he never barred you from going out. Yet when he told you, there was a certain look in his eyes. Fear. Something so rare within him that it made you obey without a word of protest. Now that he is back, he hasn’t been as energetic as you’re used to. In fact, he had practically stayed glued to the couch. 

You could poke and prod at him and he wouldn’t so much as smirk, and you hadn’t even gotten so much of a squeak out of him aside from why he had left in the first place. Despite his victory, he was just… quiet. You wake up to him staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, he’s always cuddling up to you when you go to sleep. So when you wake up next to him (quite a rare sight), it’s odd.

Not just that, but you notice he spends an oddly long time gazing out over the plains that surround your house, nearly unphased when you poke and squeeze at his cheeks. It’s not that he is entirely silent the whole time, but his words are few and far between. You can’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in thought.

After the third day, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. It was fine if he didn’t want to talk about it (though you are certain it would help), but you were starting to miss Boothill’s voice, or the silly things he would do. So, you catch him on the couch while he’s charging, deciding to lay on top of him. Cheek to cheek, you press into him with a smile.

“Hi,” You say simply. Boothill doesn’t react much, looking up at you with his eye and a small grin.

“Hey, darlin’,” He responds, his voice quiet.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Mh, nothin’,” Boothill sighs, shifting awkwardly just a little beneath you. You raise your eyebrow, and he sighs, admitting defeat so easily. “Okay. Thinkin’ about a lot.”

“Care to share?”

“I dunno sugar, it’s kinda heavy,”

“Heavy is the cost.”

A silence stretches between the two of you, as Boothill ruminates over whether or not to share what’s on his mind. You lean further into him, draping yourself over him like a blanket, even though he wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable person to lay on. You weren’t going to say it out loud, and you have spent hours on him before, so it wasn’t necessarily a problem. There were days where his body was the most wonderful thing to lay on, when he had been lounging in the sun and you had been unbearably cold for Aeons knows what reason. In moments like those, he was like your own space heater.

“Well, I mean, there was a lot goin’ on in Penacony, and all these mind games, and…” Boothill sighs, his body relaxing slightly as he pulls an arm out from under you and slings it over your waist. “Got to rememberin’ a lot of things. Stuff I ain’t exactly keen on thinkin’ about. Now I can’t stop.”

“Do you think telling me about it would help?” You purse your lips, blinking at him inquisitively. 

“Haven’t I yapped enough? I swear you ask me about all o’ this at least once a week,” He pokes at your side, causing you to squirm and yelp, before he takes hold of your waist and readjusts both of you, so he’s sitting up and cradling you in his lap. “Gonna make me talk til my jaw falls off, you know that?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Boothill smiles, something gentle despite his normally cocky grin. “I know you mean well. You’re the only one I like talkin’ to about this stuff, anyways.”

You tilt your head, silently asking him to continue. For a moment he doesn’t get the hint, raising his brow and chewing on his lip. He’s always been avoidant of such topics like the past, not that you could squeeze much out of him regardless. The most he let you know was of his family, specifically why he held a grudge against the IPC, and who he held a grudge against. Not to mention, he doesn’t enjoy talking things out much. He enjoys venting whatever’s gnawing at him in other ways, such as shooting. Still, he always seems to relent when you ask…

“Ah! Uhm, well…” He wraps both his arms around you, finally sitting up. He readjusts, making sure you’re seated comfortably in his lap. “They got me thinkin’ about when I was a kid… Well, more than that, really. Hard to explain.”

“I can listen all day. I like your voice.” You reply smugly.

“I– That’s not what I meant…” He chuckles sheepishly, shaking his head. “It was like a… hm. Felt like the kind of stuff the IPC had done to me when they caught me.”

Suddenly, you don’t know how to react. Your flirty demeanor drops, and so does your smile. Part of you didn’t think it’d be this kind of conversation. While he said it was heavy, you really didn’t think it’d be on the same level. Boothill sighs, patting your back lightly at your reaction.

“It ain’t that bad. I’m back home now, right? All in one piece.” He consoles, his voice just a tinge softer than before.

“Yeah, but–”

“It didn’t do much to me, really. Just got me thinkin’,” He shrugs so nonchalantly, like torture is something he’s used  to. “You asked, right? Lemme continue.”

With a huff, you concede. He strokes through your hair leisurely at your complacence, taking another moment to enjoy the quiet moment. As if what he was about to explain wasn’t something as terrifying as torture.

“It was somethin’ goin’ on with Dr. Primitive. Or at least, someone who aspired to be like him. Really odd thing, actually. With these monkeys and bananas, people wanted to become one. People were becoming one. Freaky, really. I mean, the things were cute n’ all… Not the point.” He takes a deep breath, “Some sort of induction… they… I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to bring back some sort of past version of me…? Took almost everything from me, voice, hearing, colors, sight, anger… they took it all. And suddenly, I felt like I was a kid again.”

The silence continues, while you ponder if anything you’ll say will be right, or okay. There’s not much you can think of to say, without sounding out of place. Dr. Primitive was one thing, and something horrifying at that, but the monkeys threw you off. Furthermore, what Boothill had described made your body feel… cold. It felt like it was one step away from wiping his memory completely. 

“What’s with that look?” He chuckles, shaking off the heavy air so easily. “You asked me to tell you, right?”

“Yeah…” You sigh. It’s still quite hard to wrap your mind around such things, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Now you sound all sad. C’mon, I’m alive, ain’t I? Plus, I think I do feel a little better now that I think about it…”

His voice tapers off at the end, before pursing his lips as if he was thinking. Again. Before you can ask him what else he’s got on his mind, his eyes light up. Without so much as a grunt, he picks you up and sets you down on the floor. 

“Here, actually, I think I’ve figured out somethin’,” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the front door. He makes no further effort to explain what he meant, simply choosing to lead you off with a smile.

As he opens the door, light spills into the cabin. The land looks practically golden, you’ve forgotten just how beautiful the plains are at sunset. When you two step out on the porch, a light breeze greets you, wading through the grass. Boothill lets out another chuckle, before stepping off the porch. He stands still for a moment, appreciating the art of the world, the way the wind whispered across the grass, the birds in the distance and their song, and finally, he lets out a content sigh.

“Can’t say it’s as beautiful as Aeragan-Epharshel, but…” He begins, looking back at you for a moment, waving you closer. “It’s close enough…”

“What do you mean?” You finally take a step down off the porch. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer with an even bigger smile.

“All that work they did, well it gave me a hankerin’ for the past,” He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much cause then I miss it even more.”

He cocks his head down at you, before his hand slides from your waist to your own, interlocking fingers. They’re not cold, for once, about body temperature. Perhaps that’s what you get for laying on top of him. He starts to lead you through the grass, his other hand gliding over the soft blades, sometimes grabbing at one just for the fun of it. However, there’s a certain sadness pulling at his face, his stride, even. He’s quiet for another minute, before he stops.

“It’s odd only feelin’ the wind in my hair.” He states, allowing nature to fill the silence once more.

“Boothill…” You mutter, reluctantly wiggling your hand out of his, reaching up to cup his cheek instead.

“It’s okay, sugar, I don’t need any pity,” Despite his words, he leans into your touch so easily, eyes fluttering closed. “Just… expressin’ myself.” After a beat, he opens his eyes and looks back out on the landscape, sighing softly. “I miss all the mischief I’d get into. After I’d finished my work on the ranch, I’d… run off somewhere, mostly off to the town. I’d get into all sorts of trouble just to keep myself from gettin’ bored. So I could get a chance to run through the fields again.”

He turns to you with a somber look in his eyes, as if he’d tear up. Not that he could, he’d lost that function long ago. His hands fall to your waist, gripping gently at the fabric of your shirt.

“There’s nothin’ quite like that feelin’. Runnin’ through the fields, the wind in your hair, stingin’ your cheeks and fingers, heart beatin’ fast as you find somewhere to hide…” He continues. Again, his voice wavers, and he swallows. He does his best to hold off on his own sadness, something he hadn’t allowed himself to properly feel for Aeons knows how long. “I guess I sorta get it still… bein’ wanted ‘n’ all… but it ain’t the same. It ain’t never been the same since…”

He ducks his head, the wind causing his hair to obscure his face. His hat dips, and you raise your hand to catch it. You don’t know what else to do. You haven’t seen Boothill this sad, ever. He’s always so rowdy and practically radiant, and yet now he’s dour, forcing himself to get his words through. He sniffles, then lets out a choked sound that goes straight to your heart. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close and squishing your face against his chest. The minute your arms meet his body, he mirrors the gesture. He practically crumbles in your arms, knees buckling as if he were flesh and bone, sliding down in your arms until his knees are planted firmly in the ground beneath you. In turn he presses his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle sound of your beating heart. At this, he grasps your shirt so tightly, pulling you impossibly closer, letting out another whine.

You pet through his hair, doing your best to still your own thoughts. Not only have you never seen Boothill sad before, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… weak. Especially on the topic of his past. He could always speak of Clementine, of Nick and Gray, even of his hatred for the IPC with such confidence. Never once did his voice break, did his scowl turn into a frown. His body is wracked with shudders, biting his lip to quiet his sobs.

You two stay like that for a couple of more minutes, Boothill clinging onto you for dear life while you did your best to comfort him, scratching at his scalp and shushing him gently, whispering all sorts of cliche things to calm him down. Eventually, he finally lets up, with a soft breath. His grip weakens on your clothes, and he stands up. When he does, you card your fingers through his hair, moving his bangs from his face. He can’t help but let out a weak chuckle, allowing you to enjoy the feeling.

“M’sorry honey,” He mutters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Didn’t mean to get all gloomy like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” You smile, your fingers lingering in his hair, before pulling away. “I think you needed it.”

“I… probably,” He sighs, “Just got too caught up in… all of this.”

Still, he nudges you, hand finding yours once more. He squeezes it, before leading you back to the cabin. The wind started to bite, the sun just peaking over the horizon as the sky went from orange and pink, to pink and purple. The clouds waned, the stars just barely visible as you two walked back. The silence is comfortable now, a small smile tugging at Boothill’s lips. He opens the door for you, taking one last look at the plains, before stepping in and closing the door.

“I’ll make dinner, then,” He says triumphantly, clearly feeling lighter than before. “As an apology. For makin’ you see me like that.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I want to, sugar. Let me? Please?” He cocks his head to the side, his smile turning gentler.

You wouldn’t fight it, either way. Despite how much he’s enjoyed literal bullets and oil, you wouldn’t dare stop him from cooking. He was like an angel, really, almost terrifyingly good in the kitchen. While you wanted to say that he didn’t have to apologize, if his cooking was on the line, you’ve found no choice but to concede.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[beanxiv]

NAGI X READER WHEN HE CALLS THEM A PAIN AND THEY GET SAD SO HE COMFORT THEM -🌷 anon

waiting ; nagi seishiro ✩࿐

warnings: hurt/comfort (im so bad at writing hurt/comfort so pretend this is good), petnames, nagi being mean (at the beginning), communication issues :/, established relationship

notes: nagi is definitely the type to bottle in all of his frustration and then take it out on you unintentionally, but its ok i can change him.

wc: 1.9k

"sei, can we watch a movie together?" you sit on one end of the couch while nagi lays on his stomach next to you (feet by your thighs and head facing the opposite arm rest) taking up the rest of the couch. his nose is buried in his phone screen, explosions and other video game sounds blasting from the speaker.

"uhhm, 'kay. lemme finish this round." your boyfriend mumbles, not bothering to look over his shoulder at you.

you sigh, but decide to stay patient. "okay, baby." you fiddle with the tv remote as you wait. when a couple minutes pass you tilt your head to glimpse at nagi's face. "done yet, shiro?"

"no. wait."

you frown, "okay.. but you've been playing for an hour before i asked you to watch a movie and you said you'd finish this round fifteen minutes ago."

"oh, my bad. i accidentally started a new round. i have t'finish the round now, can't pause an online game. just gimme a few more minutes." he still barely acknowledges you, nothing more than a slight shrug of his shoulders.

when another ten minutes pass your patience starts to wear thin. "seishiro, do you want to watch a movie together or—"

"i said wait a few minutes. the round is still goin— ah, fuck! you made me die.." nagi clicks his tongue in annoyance. pushing up off his elbows to sit up and angrily tossing his phone on the carpet. "goddamn, y/n. you're such a pain sometimes."

you blink, an ache building deep in your chest. "what?" you swallow the lump in your throat away. "i asked you if you wanted to watch a movie. you said yes and told me to wait. i waited fifteen minutes and asked again. you told me to wait. i waited again. i stayed patient for thirty minutes. now you're calling me a pain? after barely even looking at me today? you haven't talked to me since you came home from practice three hours ago!" you scoff in spite of yourself, "..really, seishiro. if you wanted space, you could have told me."

you see the weight of nagi's words start to process in his eyes, "shit— i didn't mean that, y/n. wait—"

"i'm tired of waiting, nagi." with that you slide off the couch and walk into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut before nagi can see tears of frustration threaten to spill over your eyes.

when the door shuts loudly nagi flinches but doesn't move from the couch. he sits there, swearing under his breath and running a hand down his face. "i'm such a fucking idiot.." he wishes he could kick himself for his stupid mouth. the image of your face completely falling into bitter sorrow when he called you a pain replays in his head. regret freezes his veins, and his own heart starts to ache each time your expression fills his brain.

he swears at himself again before jumping off the couch and rushing to your shared bedroom. he hesitates but manages to knock twice on the door.

"y/n, baby. i'm so sorry. please," he chews on his lip. please what? he doesn't even know what he's asking for. please open the door, please forgive me, or please talk to me? he doesn't know. he'll take any option at the moment.

he hears you shuffle to the door and sniff. are you crying? his heart breaks a little bit more at the thought of you hurt because of his idiocy.

"nagi, i meant what i said." you still haven't opened the door. but talking through the wood is better than nothing. "i'm tired of this. it's not the first time this has happened. you've ignored me a lot before. i understand if you want time for yourself, i do too sometimes. but don't tell me you're going to do something with me and not mean it."

"i know, y/n. i'm sorry, i just.." nagi isn't known for his way with words. he's not used to voicing his every thought. but he's willing to make the effort to fix his mistake and make it up to you. "practice sucked today. i was in a shitty mood after and i took it out on you when i shouldn't have."

he hears you sigh. the lock on the door clicks and you pull the door open. nagi searches your face for any indication of your reaction. his heart drops at the sight of your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

he wants to pull you tight against himself— kiss the hurt away— but he holds himself in place. he doesn't want to push his limits until you completely forgive him.

"why didn't you just tell me? we've been dating for so long now, do you still not feel comfortable enough to tell me things?"

"no! i do. i just— today was so stressful, i just wanted to lock myself up in the house and play games to get my mind off of it. i didn't realize i'd been ignoring you all day, i'm sorry."

you let out a laugh that doesn't quite reach your eyes, "see? nagi, you could have told me all of this hours ago. none of this would have happened." you have a bitter look in your eyes that tells nagi you're still upset. "it would've been that easy. just a simple 'hey, y/n i had a rough day today, and i'm not really in the mood to do anything today.' and i would have respected that and moved on."

he steps forward and takes your hands in his, "angel, i'm sorry. really sorry for calling you a pain. i swear i didn't mean it. it was— i was projecting my frustration onto you when i should have just communicated it and found an output a different way. you're the farthest thing from a pain. you're— you're honestly the reason why i'm living my life," nagi breathes out a laugh. "if it weren't for you my routine would just be wake up, football, games, eat, sleep, repeat. and not only that, you're beautiful, inside and out. and you make me laugh, and you make really good food for me, and you help me take care of choki. actually, not only that— you help me take care of myself too. honestly, i don't know if i could survive without you, y/n. so please, please forgive me, angel."

you chew on your bottom lip, "nagi—"

nagi winces, "and please stop calling me that."

this pulls a ghost of a smile onto your lips which sends a flutter through nagi's heart. you think to yourself for a moment and the smile fades slightly. "seishiro, a relationship works two ways. you know that. for it to work you have to talk to me. tell me everything— if practice went well, tell me. if it was absolute shit, still tell me. if you feel like doing something, tell me. if you don't, tell me again. i didn't start dating you just for the title, sei. i want to be with you. i want to know what makes you happy, what stresses you out— i want to know everything you'll allow me to. in exchange, i'll trust you with my heart too."

nagi presses his lips together in a tight line, "i trust you with everything. you know i do. fuck, i trust you with some things more than i trust myself." nagi sighs through his nose, his eyes a window of rare vulnerability. a window that opened only for you. "i can tell you anything, y/n, i know i can. i just don't know how. it's not something i do. i mean before you moved in with me, i lived alone during high school-- until blue lock-- and i didn't talk to anyone except reo in school. i'm not used to talking about myself and what's on my mind. the only thing i ever spilled my thoughts to was choki— my cactus for fucks sake," nagi laughs dryly. he felt pathetic telling you something so stupid. it reminded him why he kept his heavier thoughts to himself. but...

"well, you have me now. ah, and choki too if it helps," is that a smile? you're smiling— only slightly, but a smile nonetheless.

does that mean you've forgiven him? no... even if you do forgive him, he still owes you a proper apology. he wont let you walk away without it.

"i think you're a better listener than choki," nagi admits. when he expected you to scoff in his face and turn away, you stayed and continued talking with him. "i just took to long to understand that. and i promise to work on it. i'm sorry, angel. i never want to hurt you, i only want to see you happy."

"thank you, 'shiro." you murmur, finally looking up at him. nagi searches your expression for any remnants of pain and he sees none, as soon as he sees the soft look in your eyes he exhales, all of his worry leaving his chest. you smile slightly, squeezing his hand a bit. "i accept your apology. and ill try to be patient too, i understand it takes time to completely share all of your thoughts and feelings, so i won't push if you don't want to tell me anything, but at least tell me that much if you don't feel like talking."

nagi nods, "i will. i promise, i swear i'll work on it. thank you, yn. thank you for forgiving me." he can't help himself anymore, and pulls you snug to his chest, his arms right around your waist as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. "i love tou so much.. i would beat myself up if i lost you because i'm a moron."

you giggle a bit, your hand coming up to card through his hair. "mhm, you are kind of a moron."

"yeah?" nagi chuckles back, sighing softy. you feel his breath fan against your neck and pull him from the crook of your neck to look at him.

"yeah, you are. but as long as we both work on communicating, we'll be okay." a grin tugs at your lips as you look at your boyfriend.

nagi nods, his soft white hair swishing a bit as he does. "i promise t'communicate better, angel. or at least i'll try my best for you."

"and that's all i'm asking for," you murmur, the grin still on your face as you lean towards nagi to plant a kiss on his lips.

nagi returns your kiss before pulling away to look at you, "you wanted t'watch a movie together earlier.. right?"

"are you sure?" you chew on your lip, looking at him with a furrow between your brows that he wants to kiss away. "if you're still not feeling up to it, it's oka-"

"i want to," nagi interrupts, pulling you in by your waist to kiss between your brows. "so let's go cuddle and watch something."

taglist : @astruosie @saesins @dreamlessimp @hanmasdolly

©beanxiv — all rights reserved. copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is not allowed.

[daenysthedreamersblog]

SECRET OF US - VIII

i told you things

i told you things that i never said to anybody else, i regret them but I'll pack it up and practice leaving you were all at once 'til the fade to black 'til the yellow glow turned a little sad you were in my hands, but you're good at leaving

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter

summary: you head into the viper's den of your father's household with coriolanus snow

pairings: modern!coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, drinking, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex

notes: rip tiktok also sorry im a slow writer ya'll im a perfectionist to my core

The sun didn't fit. It should be dark, gloomy depressing outside to follow the tone for today, rain and storms hiding away any chance of joy...instead the sky was clear, a bright yellow ray beaming down into you face making you look away.

His hand is resting on your thigh, you watch his finger tap along the meat of you leg. You think of a time when you glared daggers at a boy's head as he sat in front of you in some class. You follow his arm up until your looking at said boy's head watching the road. What force led you here to this moment in time? You knew what force back then, what stern hand had guided you, the voice incessantly in your head sounded too much like your father's.

You sighed staring back out into the road ahead, "Do you remember back then?" He makes a noise to question you. "School, when we first met."

He shuffles his hand around the steering wheel eyes focused on the distant road. "Um I guess, why?"

"No reason." You chew on the side of your finger and wonder how different your lives could have been if you hadn't given into your father's anger, a senseless competition. Would a hand be resting on your thigh still? "Do you think we would have been friends?"

He finally glanced over at you, "If you hadn't been such a raging bi-!" You whack his arm, "I'm kidding! Probably, who knows...and anyways its over now no use dwelling on it."

You watch his knuckle tighten slowly on the wheel and you feel like he's not telling the truth about something, but you don't push. He's right, the past was the past. "You were so cute in school I hated hating you."

"Figured." He smirked over at you. "And what about now?"

You cross your arms, "No comment."

"Spoken like a true politician." He chuckled. "Got to keep the cards close huh?"

"It's where they belong." You glance out the window.

His hand lands back on your thigh, "Maybe they belong to the wind." You wanted to, for him, for yourself, but trusting him was too hard despite trying. You had tried for years with Coriolanus Snow, years of blood, sweat and tears to ruin each other. That creeping fear that he was out to get you didn't go away within one sweet kiss.

You chew on your finger until the skin bleeds.

Your parents had lived close to the academy where you had went to high school, still owned the home where they frequently stayed. They also owned property away from the city, where the traffic was light and the stars were visible. 

The house was right off the beach, overlooking the water with plenty of space to accommodate you and your friends, but you had no intention of actually staying there, trapping yourself in with your parents. 

Instead, you followed Coriolanus into the elevator of the hotel you were choosing for lodging. "Do they know you're in yet?"

"No." You shook your head toying with the handle of your suitcase. "Few more hours of peace right?" You glance up at him, "Did you come up here with..."

The Plinths.

He nodded, "Yeah." You knew they owned property across town, had went to a party with Arachne and Clem there when you were younger. You figured he hadn't come back since Sejanus had died.

"Isn't it crazy we've been so involved in each other lives, yet we don't seem to really know each other." The elevator dings and you lead the way out and down the hall. 

The students you had went to high school with you had been going to school with since you were a child. Your families grew up together, you had the same circle, and hung around the same people. Yet, he sometimes felt like a stranger to you. "Probably because we never really knew anything, just the surface layer."

You slide the key into the door and push it open rolling your suitcase off to the side and flopping down across the king bed. "Aren't you just a giant onion Coriolanus Snow?"

"An onion." He laughs the bed dipping as he crawled next to you.

"Let me peel you." You drew circles into his wrist as he stared down at you. Gosh he was beautiful, you had shied away from that, denied that but now you can't stop admiring it.

He smiles, "Tell me something real."

You let him brush hair away from your face, "You have such pretty eyes."

"What a cop out." He rolled those pretty eyes, "Too easy."

"Doesn't make it any less true."

He leans down and kisses the side of your mouth, "True." You waited for him to speak his truth, "I'm worried about tonight." You pulled back confusion written on every feature. Coriolanus sighed, "He-Your father...he-well you know what he's like." 

You sat up, "I don't understand."

"I just...he's not going to like that you and I are..." You sucked in a breath. Say it, define this, make it real. "Not trying to kill each other." Disappointment settled in your stomach. "I have a feeling he's going to try and change that."

You furrow your brows, "Why?"

He ran a hand over his face, "He wants whats best for you, and that doesn't include anyone but him."

"He doesn't get to decide that." You climbed on top of him cupping his face. "I'm done letting him control me."

His hands slid around your waist, "I know."

You kiss him words being too raw to tell him you thought he was the best thing you had right now. He swings you around until your back hits the bed, until he’s hovering over you, kissing down your neck, collarbones pulling your shirt over your head to continue trailing his mouth down the center of your breast. 

Your fingers work his belt open to allow him the space to push his pants down his legs and onto the floor. He's kissing down your stomach, kissing your hips as he inches off your underwear and pants laying you naked before him. He kisses your inner thigh, kisses the heat pulsating from your between your legs, and then he plants the gentle kiss to your clit as your back arches in anticipatory pleasure. He worships you, he glides his tongue along your clit, swirling and teasing the bud as your claws dig into his scalp. He presses down hard, moving his mouth in delicate motions that draws sweat to your hairline as two finger push inside of you. Your back arches even further, your hips tilting upward as his mouth wraps around your clit, stars peppering your vision. "Coryo," You moan for him feeling his smile deep within your cunt. His tongue slides over your clit one last time, fingers curling deep inside of you the pleasure incinerating you before you orgasm. You turn your face as you whine out into the air feeling him lap up every ounce of you until your withering under his mouth.

He's off the next second flipping you onto your stomach and hoisting you up onto all fours. You have one moment to grip the sheets before he pushes his cock inside of you. You groan from your throat as he grabs onto your hips to slam in and out of you and all you can do is arch for him to slide him deeper, slide him to that spot you like all too well. "So good," he pants out. "So good to me." You flatten your chest to the bed, bitting onto your knuckle as your body bends even further for him.

"Mhm," Is all you can whimper out as he thrust hard and fast into every inch of you. Your body is clenching down around him, the pressure building up too fast already. He was right, it was so good, how could it be this good between you two. You had been with other people, he no doubt had as well, but this...this was a different plane of existance. "You feel so good." You tell him the same.

He lets out a breathy laugh, his strokes slow and deep. "Do I?" He reaches around your body fingers pressing into your clit, drawing circles into it. "Tell me baby girl, tell me how good it feels." You do. You're a blubbering whining mess for him, mewling for more as you scream into those stupid hotel sheets. "Cum on my cock then, show me how good it feels." You do that too twisting your fingers into the bed as your body clamps down around him. He grips onto you hips again moving at a rabid pace to chase his own pleasure, spilling inside of you with your name on his lips.

You lay like that for a while, bent over, him inside of you until it didn't seem reasonable anymore. He reluctantly pulled out, you reluctantly let him, and then he's pulling your sweating bodies together across messy sheets. You need to shower, you need to get ready, prepare for this disastrous event.

But you close you eyes, and revel in the warmth of his skin a little longer.

You smooth down the black dress, fidgeting with the jewelry littering your fingers. "Hey." His warm hand slides into yours. "We don't have to go." He comes in close tucking hair behind your ear as he trails a finger down your cheek. "We can go back, spend the whole night in that hotel room." You sucked in a breath cheeks heating despite the slight chill in the air. He smirked, "Spend it having you spread open beneath me."

You leaned into his hand, "As nice as that sounds..." You tugged his hand down from your face your fingers tangled in an intricate web of connection. "I have to face him."

The door opens and you find yourself dropping his hand taking the slight sidestep away from him. You catch it, he catches it, but you avoid looking at him. "Mother." You rush into her arms the only comfort you had ever found growing up.

"My darling girl." She kisses your cheeks and peers at Coriolanus Snow. "Mr. Snow, what a surprise." She holds out her hand allowing him to press a respectable kiss to it before ushering everyone inside to avoid awkward conversations. 

You stand there in the foyer awkwardly anyways. "You have a lovely home." He tells your mother.

She waves his flattery away, "She's not in her prime, only had the dust shook off for this pointless party." She eyed you tenderly, "Come by our building when we all get back to the city, now that is a lovely home."

"I'm sure he has better things to do that admire your paint choices." You fought to not roll your eyes as worlds incessantly collided in front of you. Coriolanus had always been overly cordial with the elite set of parents your fellow students had, smoozing them at various events...even yours.

He smiled down at you, "I'm a avid paint admirer." He runs a hand down the sleeve of your coat. "Let me hang this up for you."

Your mother motions down the hall, "Coat check is right through there." You shrug out of your coat and watch him disappear with it, "I thought we hated him?" She whispers in your ear.

"We do-we did...I did." You glance at her. "I don't hate him anymore, at least I don't think I do."

She studied your face, "No you don't hmm." You had your father's eyes, cold, hard eyes chased away by all the warmth in your mother's who's softness always enveloped you, a softness you searched endless inside of yourself. She gave you life, she knew your soul even if you didn't. "I meant what I said, have him come by when you get back."

"No." You scoffed.

Her eyes narrowed, "You're as difficult as your father, your own worst enemy." You hear his footsteps returning, "Why don't you give him a tour?" She runs a hand down your arm before walking away.

He smirked down at you, "Absolutely not," You pointed at him.

His hands grabbed onto your waist pulling you in, "Show me you room kitten."

"You're as bad as her." You groaned shoving past him and up the stairs. You walk him into the house showing him various offices and rooms and bathrooms. He's not interested in it, he knows you're stalling as you approach the last door. "This is my room." You grimace as you open the door letting him walk inside.

He flips on the light glancing around at your bedroom as if he never been in one before. It was different than you room in the city, the one you chose, you decorated and lived in. This one was a view into your adolescents, the version he never got to see behind closed doors. He peers at your bare desk, littered with random pictures of Arachne and Clemensia. He slowly gazes at the walls covered in various awards and degrees, the small book shelf with childish fiction books hidden beside literature your father planted. Then his fingers are trailing along the white floral detailing on your powder blue bedspread.

"Roses," He traces the stem off of one.

"I guess." You were picking at your nails waiting for the snap of judgement. 

He finally meets your eyes, "It's cute." You don't respond as he starts digging through your bedside table. "Your mother seemed okay with me being here."

"She knows how to bite her tongue." You step inward, "Been hiding her opinions for years now."

He sighs sitting on your cushioned perfectly made bed, "And what are her true opinions of me then kitten?"

You come around the bed, fingers trailing along the white wooden bedpost until you're in front of him. "I'm sure nothing appropriate." You smirk down at him as hands ghost the back of your thighs until his palms are pressed into your backside.

"What are your opinions?" 

You straddle him, his hard cock digging into you. "Nothing appropriate."

His mouth hovers along yours, "Tell me something real."

I need you. "I need you inside of me."

He kisses you hard as you grind your body down onto his. It's fast and heated and you're fighting with his pants as he hikes up you dress to dig his fingers into your soaked cunt. "So needy for me." He smiles along your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before sprawling you out on your old bed.

"Always," You don't let him go far. You keep your arms around his neck allowing him to spread you open, to push inside of you slowly, inch by inch, letting him envelope you inside out. When he's filled you completley you let your legs wrap around him gently, letting him rock his hips against yours. You felt every inch of his body, every inch of his soul consuming you with every long slow stoke of his cock. He kisses you again, tongues melding together as your bodies had done, until every part of you seems attached to his.

Your hands trail down his back, feeling every muscle rippling under his dress shirt as he thrust into you. You're never sated, never full enough of him and you think you may never be and the idea terrifies you. So you tuck your face into his neck and kiss him, kiss his pulse and hold onto him before he slips through your fingertips, before you let him.

In the end you know it would be your fault, it had always been your fault.

You feel heat filling your veins, his fire engulfing you in it's blue flame raging against your amber glow. "My girl," He groans against your face, the words branding on your skin. "My pretty girl." In some other version of this you would ask him if he means it, if he could ever want you that way, and maybe he would, but not here, not now. You relish in the delusion of simplicity of being his.

You tilt your hips, you take him deeper, you close your eyes and feel every shock of pleasure shooting across your body. You clamp down around him, like you always would, and orgasm tangled up in everything that was him. His hips stutter as he cums soon after open mouth breathing against your hair. You feel the tightness in your throat, the realization of the serene bubble you made hidden under sexual desire. There was so much more, so much, and you could never look it in the face.

He kisses your forehead, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He stares down at you gentle fingers brush hair out of your face, "I may have smudged your makeup a little."

You chuckle at the break in tension, "That's alright."

"You're still beautiful." Your cheeks burn, "You've always been beautiful."

"Even back then?" You wince when he pulls out, as he helps you sit up to collect yourself.

He nods as he adjust his pants. "Then, now." He smirks up at you, "You've aged like an expensive wine."

"Your favorite flavor I assume?" You pull your dress down into place.

He watches you, "You are exquisitely delicious kitten."

You smile to yourself as you use the small vanity to fix yourself back up, cover up marks and smudges, straighten out your dress. “I see why now.” He says and you look at him through the mirror as he stares out of your bedroom window. “Why you like to go there..” The docks in the city.

You walk over to him taking in the same view he was; the dark water lapping on a cold beach. The lone boats still sitting along the nearly empty dock of people waiting for spring to break through finally. “It’s nice to always imagine the escape, picture a different life, romanticize the little things.” You sighed, “I spent a lot of time in here; needed to pass the time, wondered if I could float away too.”

“So philosophic.” He smirks.

You gaze up at him, “Just a depressed teenager actually.”

He chuckles, “No wonder you grew teeth and claws.” You turn to face him as he creeps closer to you, slowly like he might spook you, and he could because he was right. You always thought you were born with fangs, poison laced in your gums from who you were always meant to be, but really it had been a defensive measure. Now it seemed to difficult to put them away after so long, all the raw, jagged parts of you and he still chose to come closer.  Your heart flips in relief, in some sort of confirmation, that he could see you, but it's falling just as quick with fear, with a need hide from his scrutinizing gaze. You've spent years honing this craft, tucking the monster quietly inside, trying to make it small enough to fit into a life that wasn't yours. He cups your face anyways forcing you to burn underneath its intensity.

Your brows crease, "Coriolanus." He kisses you, softly, like you were made of precious glass, melted and woven to fit within his palm. It's too much, too much emotion is pouring into your chest that you need to pull away. As if you could let it all come to the surface, as if you could believe the walls you had spent years building could be let go.

He sighs through his nostrils as he opens his eyes to stare down at you disappointment in his gaze, "You dropped my hand."

You played dumb, "What?"

"You dropped my hand."

You scoff, "What did you expect me to do, to say? 'Hey mom here's this guy I'm fucking?' Doesn't really roll off the tongue."

He rolled his eyes, "She knows who I am."

"That's not the point."

He narrowed in on you, "Then what is the point?"

"You tell me!" You snap like the viper buried deep down inside of you, the wild snake your father had forced you to be, the creature within your soul Coriolanus had always seen. You're breathing heavy watching him study every expression hidden under false anger.

"You always go on the offensive when you're avoiding questions." He reminds you after he had spent years observing you to dissect your soul. He takes a slow step forward, his middle finger twisting around your own, "I get it, truly more than you know. I just wish you knew. Is it so hard to trust me?"

"Yes." You breath.

His eyebrows furrow, "Why?"

"I spent my whole life mistrusting you, how do you unlearn a behavior." You feel your fingers tugging away from him. "Do you even trust me?"

He's pulling your hand back to him, to hold against his heart; steady and strong beneath his sternum. "More than I should." And he was right to, you were never able to offer him any security back in regards to whatever this was. You had always had to strike deeper, more lethally. ”Change, you change, that's how you unlearn things...I changed."

"Not much."

He playfully glares, "Just enough."

Maybe you had misjudged him, maybe you had always misjudged him. “What do you want?” It wasn’t accusatory, but the honest question.

“What do you want?” There is was, the stalemate, the cold war of neither of you wanting to admit the ever consuming truth. No, he would never admit defeat first. He wanted to pummel you beneath his iron fist first, or did he? You weren't sure you knew anything anymore. You knew you wanted to hear the words from his mouth, words you know you may never hear at all, pathetic words you're sure were just your own.

I care about you. I want you. I'm falling in love with you.

 "Come on." You struggle to step away fully so your hand comes up to interlock with his. "We're already late.”

So, no you may never hear them because even you weren’t willing to reveal the soft parts of yourself, so why should he? Everyone had always controlled you, used you, and even when you tried to make your own choices it was thwarted by your father. It was difficult to relent that feeling, that fear; it was difficult to push the fangs back up into your gums and give in to those things you truly wanted. 

You let him walk slightly behind you as you head back into the party, as you head right for the open bar needing to dull the feelings swarming your head. But now that your here, downing a glass of champagne where everyone can see your father's heir, the anxiety sets in. Your skin was crawling, you felt everyone staring at you as you drained a flute quickly grabbing another one. This was stupid, this was your dumb idea and you wanted to peel off your own fingernails to claw your way out of this pit of snakes. 

"There she is." Your father's voice sends oily sludge down your spine as he speaks your name, demanding you to turn and look at him. You do. He's the same as ever, more gray hair popping up on his head than last time, his clean shaven face, dark soulless eyes peering into the depths of yours. He's quick to take your hand, pull you in close pretending to kiss your cheek. "What is Coriolanus Snow doing at my party?"

"I invited him." You're firm. 

"Stupid girl." You quickly search the party finding him speaking with your father's business partners...networking. You should have felt unease at the sight, but you had stopped competing with him long ago and who cares if he networked for his own career. "Highbottom." Your father turned to the man next to him, "My daughter had told me her email was hacked a few months back, she never got your message for her to apply."

His fingers dug into your shoulder forcing you to respond, to grovel. "I'm so sorry Mr. Highbottom, I know how amazing of an opportunity that internship would be at your company. I would love to still apply if you are open to more candidates."

He didn't care, he had always been going to give you the position due to your father. "Technology is a fickle thing hmm...Come by my office when you get back to the city, we'll set something up for you."

You shake his hand. "Thank you sir."

"Good job." Your father had whispered once Highbottom had disappeared from view. "Now get that fucking leech out of here."

You glared; you’re glad he’s upset, you’re glad he didn’t plan for this. It didn’t make his disappointment easier to withstand, "It's not like that anymore."

Your father ordered a glass of brown liquor sneering into the cup. "Oh really. Tell me how many kisses did it take for you to forget who he is.” You don’t answer only take another long, slow drink. “Not much I suppose since he’s here no doubt whispering into everyone’s ear about how he’s the better option than you.” He watched you set the empty glass down before you looked at him. “The funny thing is…he is.”

It hurts. It had always hurt, you don't let on. “Then let him be better.” You narrow your eyes, “I’ll go where I’m wanted not where you’re wanted.”

Your father sighed, “Then go nowhere I guess.” He shakes his head, “Who would want you? A love sick withering woman who would rather wander aimlessly then stake her claim at what is so rightfully hers.” Your eyes quiver, “You’ve brought yourself so low, and for what? That bottom feeder?”

The sound of Coriolanus saying you father’s name snaps you out of it. “Mind if I borrow your daughter?”

He gives you a tight lipped smile. “We’re not done with this conversation.” Your father finished his drink and walked away without even acknowledging Coriolanus. 

You stared up at him your insides steeling up. “Come dance.” He pulls you by the hand towards the middle of the room, you can’t even hear the sound of the slow music playing over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can’t even hear him ask his questions until he says your name multiple times. You look up at him, "How did it go?"

You laughed sarcastically into the air. "I am a coward. It's like the minute I'm around him I'm just a little girl again scared to disappoint her father." 

"What does he want anyways?" He asked his hand sliding down the length of your spine, like his touch was the only thing holding you together.

"Money, power, glory." You watch the back of his head leaving the room. "He wants his empire, he wants me right there beside him so even when he's forced to step down he'll always be my shadow, he'll always be in control." Your eyes meet Coriolanus’s once more, "I think most of all, he wants me to want it."

"And you don't."

"And I don't." Then you’re looking at his chest, feeling the warmth of his palm within your own, and once again wonder how you found yourself here; finding comfort with him, finding security with him. "I don't know what I want, who I am...I just know I don't want to be controlled."

"When did you realize that?" He asked simply.

It wasn't simple, and you sighed. "Arachne had just come out." The air feels tight as you recount. "Her parents weren't happy, and she had come over with Clem for comfort, for reassurance. My father..." You swallow hard. "My father wanted me to convince her to lie, to pretend to be someone she wasn't, to take it back., and I almost did it. I almost agreed to do it."

You look up at his gaze; he wasn't judging you like you had judged yourself. He had always seen the worst parts of you and never looked away. "What made you decide not to?"

"I got back to my room, and I saw her laughing with Clem and I realized I never wanted my friend to not smile like that." You blink remembering the brightness in her eyes, "If she had to be pretend to be someone she wasn't...she never would have been able to be happy. I couldn't do that to her." His hand soothes the small of your back, "If I was more like him, if I wanted to be like him, I would have been completely okay with ruining her life."

He stilled. "You aren't like him."

Couples are spinning around you, laughter rings out in distant areas of the room, you feel your mother watching you somehow, or maybe that was something only mother’s could make their child feel. “I always felt too much, too keenly; hatred and worry and…love.” His blue eyes twinkle in the golden chandelier light. “Hatred is easier to admit than love.” Too much, too much, you’re revealing too much… "It's easy, but his…disappointment, his disgrace, it’s too much to bear. I have no more room for it, and it disgust me how much I allow him to bend me.”

His hand strokes your cheek forcing you to tilt your face up for him, “The wind kitten.” He repeats, “The only way to make room is to let some of it go. You can’t change him, you cant let him change you.” Another brush of his thumb, “I see you…I’ve always seen you. I know who you are, who you harbor, the bad and…the good.” He's kissing you then, cupping your face up to his as you hold onto his wrist savoring the taste of him. ”Let’s get out of here."

“Okay.”

Soon enough your rushing back though the party trying to find coats and purses to leave in a mad dash. Your father couldn't be too mad, you had come, made amends with his friend, would maybe try for that job...probably not. "I can't find my phone.” You cursed your dress, you wished you gave it to him instead but your searching ever nook for that stupid device, and then you remember. “My room, I-I must have left it up there earlier.”

Your room is dark once more as you push the door open seeing the screen light up on a slightly rumpled comforter. You scoop it up into your hands before turning and coming face to face with your father. “Did you really think you could leave without finishing our conversation?”

“Yes, I’m leaving.” You held your chin high trying to draw from Coriolanus’s strength. 

His eyes narrowed, ”Before you go..." You’re mid trying to open your phone to text Coriolanus when you look up at him. "Did he ever mention his father to you?"

"What? No? Why would he?" Crassus Snow had died many years ago, before you had even went to school with his son. He had worked with your father for some time but nothing noteworthy.

Your father shrugged. "Interesting."

You cross your arms. "Spit it out already."

"Crassus Snow and I were friends." He said the air growing heavy, thick with the weight of his words; they hung in the space between you, suffocating, pressing against your chest. "I was making huge success, he wasn't, invested into the wrong places and he was jealous, hungry for more, for what I had." Your hand covered your mouth as your father stood up straighter. "He was never able to recoup what he lost. He died knowing his fortune was in ashes, his only saving grace would have been his son, so I couldn't have that. No, he would not haunt me any longer."

So he had sent you to destroy that last living memory of an old friend, an old enemy. You remember the lecture, the hatred your father had instilled in your for that boy.

Your father smirked, "And I knew he would have left his son the same task."

"He's not like his father." You shook your head, you never knew the man, but if he was anything like your father...

"Isn't he? Just as cruel and manipulative and power hungry with an ambition like a knife." He laughed at you, "Do you truly think he cares for you? Come on darling I know I raised you to be smarter than that."

Your heart froze up, "Maybe he changed after the accident, maybe he realized theres more important things in life."

Another cruel laugh, "He realized he's nothing without The Plinths and he's lucky they never pressed charges for him getting their son killed."

"He-He..." You're spinning out words hitting you like bullets.

Your father struck his final blow, "He's using you." A cold whisper. "You don't think I've been watching him all night, networking, scheming his way into places meant for you. He's using you like he used that Plinth boy and you are falling into the same little trap that will get you cast out or worse..." Two hands ran down your arms, a father's comfort. "You're faltering, you're letting opportunity pass you by, giving up power for a silly boy who could never love you."

"That's not true." Your nails dig deep into your palms.

"Is that all it took for you to give up? A sweet kiss, the moon on a string?" He tsked at you like a child. "I would pity you if I wasn't so disappointed, but then again you are just a woman.”

Anger flared within you steel locking around every wall. “Woman? Is that meant to be an insult?”

“Of course it is.” He scoffs. “If you were a man he wouldn’t have been able to weasel his way close to you. He knew all the tricks to emotionally manipulate you.” He laughed at you, “He’s probably down there right now sealing a deal meant for you because you let him pass you by, you let him make you weak.” You want him to stop, to shut up, to leave you alone, so you slip into the only version of you he adored.

You smirk, fangs slipping down the lie burning hotter than the poison dripping out. “You don’t think I know that. You don’t think I can see through his little tricks.” You tilted your head to the side hair spilling onto your shoulder. “Oh father, you should know me better, you raised me.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow urging you to continue.

“I’ve been planning it for months, the moment I knew we were going to be scene partners.” You gaze at your nails as if destroying a life was boring. “It’s my final move, my checkmate to say. I’ve gotten him right where I want him and he believes he can see some version of good inside me to soften up.” Your smile feels evil, vile. “You wanted me to hate him, but I hate him so much more on my own. I can’t wait to send him out with nothing, to destroy him one last time, to be rid of him forever.”

Your father actually smiles at you, “I’m impressed. He does seem rather smitten with you.” 

“He's a leech as you've always said father.” You hold your head with putrid pride. “And he’s hooked on tight.”

The floorboard creaks your bedroom door opening wider as your infected heart plummets to your stomach, the ground feels like it had fallen out from beneath you.

“Coriolanus.” His blue eyes are dark with anger, with pain, with-with… “Coriolanus.” You go to chase after him but your father’s grip wraps tight around your arm.

Your father's mouth curved into a wicked smile,”If only all of that were true hmm?”

“You knew.” You’re hyperventilating, heaving heavy breaths. “You knew-He…” You think to your phone open on your bed. “You texted him to come up here…you knew he would be standing there…you egged me on to say all of that, to hurt him.”

His grip squeezes on your bicep. “I know what’s best for you, and Coriolanus Snow is not that.” You try to move but he's latched on tight, "You think I would let that boy, with his father's blood, take anything that was mine?"

“You’re wrong.” You seethe getting in close knowing everything you felt for him was the opposite of hatred. “He’s better than both of us.” You wrangle out of his grasp, and then you’re running after Coriolanus Snow. “Corio!” You watch him throw his coat on, storming out of the front door. “Coriolanus!” You’re sprinting down the steps. “Snow!” He stills on the same porch you had arrived together on, in the same place you had dropped his hand. “I-I didn’t mean what I said.”

He doesn’t even turn to look at you. “He raised you as vicious as him, power hungry and armed to the teeth.” The same words he had said to you on that concrete sidewalk. "Don't waste your breath, you'll just embarrass yourself."

“Please.” You feel tears brimming in your eyes, ‘Please just…look at me.” He won’t and you go to reach for him, but you hand falls back to your side. “You asked me what I wanted earlier.” You swallow back fear. You were tired of lying, pretending to be strong, pretending to not care when all you cared about was him. Screw the past, screw the feud and your father, you wanted Coriolanus Snow, you wanted to love him. “I want you.”

You can’t see his face, but you know he’s glaring. “I don’t care.” You can't see straight, your vision is spotty. “I don’t care about you. I never did.” Your knee buckles, “You were just something to pass the time, to see if I could use you all the same.”

You reach out finally but his coat slides past your fingertips as he walks away from you, as he disappears into the night.

You don't go back inside. Instead you drown yourself in a bottle of champagne on a frozen beach, watching boats sit stagnant when you’re stupid enough to text him.

Please Coriolanus…talk to me.

The text never gets delivered.

It hits you then.

He blocked you. He left you.

He left.

big yikes

next chapter coming soon

[firemenenthusiast]

okay so uh hiii, first off I just wanna say you're writing is top tier, I consider you one of the best writers for Archie's characters, keep up the good work 🩷 ! second off all, the jann fic where he calls the reader mama has plagued my mind for DAYS, like literal brain rot I swear (in a good way tho lol). like I even went on character.ai and got him to call me mama on there like I'm truly down atrocious for subby jann because of you, you must've unlocked something in my brain or something 😭😭.

i don't know exactly if I'm doing this right so if I'm not just let me know and ill try to redo it but i was wondering I could make a request for you to write a few drabbles (if that's the right term, probably not) about casual dominance with subby jann please 👉🏾👈🏾, like not all of them have to be sexual, but best believe I'll have no issue with that lmao. again, I've never done this before so if it's like shitty, all over the place, and makes no sense I apologize 😭. I know you have a couple fics and stuff queued up and other things keeping you busy so no rush or anything.

domestic sub!jann

he’s a subby man, even casually. here’s some domestic headcannons of my little whiskers meow meow jann mardenborough (gt movie)

a/n: thank you anon for your kind words and request ! SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG 😭🙏🏻 i hope this is what you imagined when writing the ask :] also jann calling reader mama was stuck in my head until i actually wrote it. and i WILL do it again

- let’s start off by agreeing on the fact that jann is the clingy one in your relationship

- he’s a busy man, especially at the height of his career so whenever he’s home, he just wants to rest his head on your lap in front of the tv

- he NEEDS you to run your fingers through his hair, or gently caressing the back of his head or he’ll take matters into his own hands

- and by that i mean he will grab your hand and place them in his hair himself, but sometimes you just want to tease him. you would constantly pull your hand away each time he’d grab it and he would whine until you give up

- jann’s a snuggler cuddler. he would snuggle himself in your chest whenever you guys cuddle eventho he’s so much bigger than you. he doesn’t care, he just needs to be wrapped snuggly by your arms in your embrace

- jann does silly things at home with you, including opening his mouth at you whenever you eat together, asking you to feed him. then when you actually do he’ll chew his food with a smile that squints his eyes

- other silly things he does is INSISTING on brushing your teeth together after waking up. you’d be getting out of the bed when he’s still chilling around and he would SCRAMBLE out of the duvets to follow your back, like a puppy

- while on the topic, he really acts closely to a puppy around you

- you getting up to go get something from the fridge ? he’ll go: “where are you going ?”

- you pulling his head off your lap to go to the toilet for a moment ? he’ll go: “where are you going ?”

- if you’re slipping on your coat with the trash in your hand at the door ? he’ll go: “im coming with you”

- he knows that you’ll just make him go himself if he offers to carry it so he wouldn’t take the trash off your hand until AFTER you’ve reached the end of the hallway, before the elevator. just so he could go on that little walk with you

- you’ve never felt annoyed or irritated with him, you’ve grown accustomed to his clinginess. if anything you’re happy that he is the way he is cuz it’s not often that he’s home because his busy schedule

- he SO would beg you to play GT with him. he even bought you your own racing wheel and display, and built your whole set up in your favourite colour just so you could play with him

- you guys have your own racing room just sophisticatedly equipped with both of your set ups, a frickin fridge and a crazy sound system.

- he actually uses the sim a lot to practise, and would follow you around the house, watching you do stuffs that you told him you’re going to be busy for that you wont be able to race with him, until you’re done. THEN only he would be willing to practise happily

- if he’s feeling extra clingy ? he’d ask you to sit on his lap, facing him, just clinging onto him like a koala bear while he races

- you’re his first ever serious girlfriend, so he really cherishes you every second he could. scenario of you breaking up with him flashes before his eyes whenever you’re upset

- ego ? dont know her. he’s willing to kneel and kiss at your knees, begging for forgiveness while you sit on the couch, clearly upset with something he’d done

- most of the time it’s just you being jealous of him entertaining his fangirls, him taking selfies with them, sometimes they’re pressed up too close to him

- you love that he’s nice to them, and that he’s loved by many, but you couldn’t help but feeling jealous

- he knows you’d be, so right after the crowd dissipates he’s quick to go to you, pulling at your folded arms.

- “are you mad at me ?” “no”

- then he would rest his head at the crook of your shoulder until you give in

- jann’s also really sulky. he doesn’t really show it, but you’ll know. he’s not the type of person to be giving you the silent treatment when he’s sulking but you’ll notice he’s distracted. he would still do things with you or for you, just quietly

- sulking jann would include avoiding eye contact. jann is generally quite shy with other people, but with you he’ll make eye contact all the time. he would smile and just look into your eyes until you blush, then he’d chuckle. so when he’s struggling to maintain eye contact with you, you know something’s upsetting him

- you know how i mentioned he follows you everywhere ? so that also applies to when you go shopping for clothes. he’s your personal hype-men, a functional one at that too

- he’s not that type of boyfriend that just waits outside the store, just waiting for you to be done. if anything he’s more excited to walk into your favourite stores than you 😭 cuz he knows there’d be new clothing line that you’d want to try on

- he gives legit opinions too, he knows what type of clothes you like, the materials, the cuttings, you would be hearing him say things like: “that looks pretty but are you comfortable?” cuz he notices it’s made with material that you don’t like

- when it’s his turn to buy clothes he lives for your eyes, and your eyes only. you have a vision in mind for the clothes or outfits that you think would make him look cute, so you’d assemble an outfit at the store for him to try on. he’s not picky, he’ll get anything that you say makes him look handsome.

- guys im genuinely tweaking i need him to be my boyfriend

- both of you have your own careers so sometimes his racing schedule clashes with your work, but it doesn’t happen often

- when you actually have a very important thing to attend for your work, and he has a race on the same day, he’ll get really sad that you’re not gonna be cheering him on, or that you’re not gonna be there when he’s done

- you try to finish your work as soon as possible when he has a race, to come to his racing venue. you mostly work remotely, so you’d just finish your work in the hotel room before going to see him. you’re his emotional support, and he’d be really happy if you get to watch him on the track.

- one time he’d been informed that you wouldn’t be there because of work, and he was really sad, pouting his lips, shoulders dropped and all (he’s dramatic like that) but he’s understanding of your work, so he went and raced the best he could so he would get to tell you all about it after you got home

- unbeknownst of him, you finished early that day and were able to catch him on the track. when he got out of the car he noticed your face on the track displays, watching him from the vip viewing area, cheering him on.

- he was quick to take out all his comms wires to go see you, meeting you halfways as you were also running to go see him

- he’s a whole golden retriever puppy boyfriend, who becomes really subby in bed, whining and whimpering underneath you <3

[letitrott]

Bowers Gang x Goth reader Part 3 Victor Route - Choose your own story!!!

OPTION A. IF YOU CHOOSE TO FOLLOW VICTOR

Note: Please follow links to THIS POST ONLY from here on for your story to make sense!

Warning: Drug consumption, Lemon kinda graphic, some swearing!! IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO NOT READ!!!

PART 1 Intro (CLICK ME)

PART 2 Maths class "With Vic" (FOR THIS POST)

PART 2 (CLICK ME) Mother link all story options

Part 3 (CLICK ME) Mother link all story options

Reader: Hey umm!! *you call out reaching for his shoulder* Victor: *He turned around to face you* Hmm..Oh m-my name is Victor *he laughs nervously he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.* Reader: Is it okay if I kick it back with you? Victor: *Smiles brightly* Heck yeah I know this really good spot past the sciences rooms *you follow Vic out the class room to his locker* Haha you make one cute shadow.. Victor: Shit! Reader: Whats wrong *you tip top peering over his shoulder* Victor: The locks jammed *starts fiddling* Reader: Let me try *your hands brush your silky strands pulling out a bobby pin, ducking under his arms as you closely started inspecting the lock yourself lightly brushing his hands. Victor: *Looks down at your small frame, you were practically begging to be in his embraces. He couldn't tell if you were messing with him or.. he places his chin on your head watching you patiently. His hands found there way to his pockets* Reader: *Click* Got it!! *you slowly turn around looking up and Vic* Reader: You know I'm not going to bite you Vic *you smirk* Victor: I don't know you almost messed up Pat and Henry *he smiles* Reader: Lets face it you probably wished it was you huh *a sultry look in you eyes* Victor: *presses his lips together before starting to rummaging through the locker. You noticed a a couple pocket knives, bum bags and books that look like a dogs been chewing on them* Reader: Hey why do have Henrys maths book *you pinch it between your fingers holding it up. The cover has knife marks, pages with random lewd drawings and others ripped out* Victor: Oh the gang we kinda share lockers. My actual locker is all he way in the Language building. Can't be fucked with those stairs or the walk. *he pulls out some rolling papers stuffing it into a bum bag. Slinging it over his shoulders before chucking a baggy black hoodie over the top* Reader: Hmm not suspicious at all... Victor: Oh please Wednesday Addams DUPE!! Reader: Stop it Malfoy *Hermione granger impression* Victor: Oh haha very funny Reader: SOoo is that your normal hair or... Victor: Quit it! *He ruffles your hair, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you both walk to his spot. *You and Vic pass Greta and her goons. Vic kept his head down avoiding any kind of contact. You still keep a firm gaze on Greta not intimidated by her in the slightest. Something that bothered her.* Greta: *Follows you and Vic as you both made your way to the oval cutting across to the old Science room* Victor: *Looks back over his shoulder seeing Greta was indeed following both of you. He just ignores her not seeing the problems brewing.*

Victor: These bathrooms are Abandoned. Something about a plumbing problem. The school didn't want to pay for the costs... Reader: Not bad Vic...You don't tell spooky stores and cry bloody Mary in here do you *smirking up at him* Victor: Nah Im too grown for that. I knew a baby bat like you would love it here. *he sat on the toilet lid, lifts his hood and grabbing out papers and a light. As well as unhooking the speaker on the side of bag turning it on* Victor: You wanna be my DJ baby *he smiles turning to the side* Reader: Sure *you grab your phone out scrolling through your playlists* Victor: Nothin to crazy don't wanna get caught *starts removing the hard cover off the toilet paper dispenser to reveal a lose tile where the gang stored there stash* Reader: Don't worry I got you...So do you or the gang like sell? Victor: Belch Doesn't smoke, Henry is more of a scotch n whisky kind of guy and Patrick...He don't need it but on the rare occasion we all get high together. It quite funny.

Victor: *Grabs a baggie and a grinder starting to prepping a joint* Reader: *You ended up playing Us Vs. Them by the $uicideboy$* Reader: A couple candles in here wouldn't hurt... Victor: So you can do your little satanic rituals I don't think so cutie... Reader: Aye you've already labeled me as Wednesday Addams, chill or maybe I will have to sacrifice you. *you teased as you kneeled down brushing some dust and broken glass away making a little spot on the floor* Victor: *Starts bopping his head to the music* Nice choice *he licks the paper as he rolled the weed* Victor: Hey! Woah I'm not gonna make you sit on the floor damn. Reader: Oh well then where do you want me to sit *you stand up crossing your arms annoyed*

Victor: *He scoots back on the seat making some room between his legs* Here *tap tap* I promise I won't bite. Reader: *you smile playfully rolling your eyes at him before sitting down.* Victor: Snuggles into the nape of your neck, his cheek pressing against you soft skin and his chin resting over your shoulder. His forearm lay on your thighs. Lighting the joint. He turns his head to the side taking a couple drags before exhaling* *You both heard footsteps and a shadow from around corner moving closer. It looked like the figure of a girl..* Victor: What the FUCK do you want! *his voice loud and heavy. His face turned to a frown.*

Emma Tompson: Hey Vic *she leans on the door frame casually. She locks eyes with you. Flashing a disgusted look.* I didn't think you would replace me with that.. *Emma Tompson.. You had heard about her before. She was on the cheerleading team for College not far from the school. She messed around with all the jocks, attending their parties ect. She had light brown hair with the blond highlights. Bottle tan skin and the only attractive feature really being her long legs and over all slim figure. She wore too much makeup. Her clothes, shirts in particular were known to have Orange makeup stains. Tacky to say the least.*

Victor: Fuck Off Emma *His head was raised he sternly locks eyes with you before bringing the joint to your lips* Can't you see I'm busy... Emma: *Was a bout to open her mouth and say something before she was Victors cold hearted stare and his fists balled* Fine... *she stomped away annoyed as hell* Victor: *lets out a sigh* took the joint from your fingers taking a deep drag. Suddenly he grabs your face, forcing his lips on yours breathing out the smoke. His red hazed eyes longing looked into your bewitching ones.*

Reader: *you had no choice but to breath it all in. It was suffocating which made it all the more arousing for you, the burning sensation and the feeling of him sucking on your bottom lip. The smoke escaped your nostrils* Victor: *His hands had started softly squeezing your outer thighs and slowly started rubbing the inner. Taking a big handful and squeezing, you jolt a little breaking the kiss. His hands relaxed* Victor:*His eyes widen a little as he brings his had to his eyes rubbing them a little* Shit...Im so sorry. *he takes his other hand away from your thigh. Resting back on the tank running his through his hair, not daring to make eye contact with you again* I shouldn't have done that...SHIT!

Reader: *You look over your shoulder and sigh annoyed. You bring your legs to your chest, swivel around and lay your legs over his on either side straddling him almost.* You are no fun.. *you say flatly* Victor: *look down at his lap devoured by the guilt* Reader: Vic...*you coo as your soft voice grabbed his attention* Your acting as if you know I don't like it, your not nervous are you *you tease him.* Victor: You say that like I'm some Malfoy virgin *he smiled a little* I just don't wanna mess things up. Seeing Emma... Reader: Vic..*You lay both your hands on his chest rubbing small circles* I know girls like that only want you for your money, drugs or in this case your weed. Claiming the joint from him taking one last drag. Looking at him with your lust fulled eyes blowing the smoke through your nose.

Victor: *Gulps* Are you sure you want to do this with me *his sleepy red eyes gazed at you. Begging* Reader: *you lean your whole body forward pressing your chest to his, he closes his eye parting his lips as you both kiss once more. You both take turns kissing and sucking on each others bottom lip. Victor: *pushes your shoulders back breaking the kiss for a moment, as he straightens up then your lips connecting again. This time Vic's kisses were more sloppy, wet and messy. His hands find your waist tugging your body into his. Reader: *Your wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your thighs around his waste before pulling away panting for air. You could feel the heat building*

Victor: *Starts planting kisses down your neck reminding you of class earlier on that day. His hands slip down to your hips, tracing their shape, he grips your hips hungrily pulling them directly on-top of his.*

Reader: *you gasp at the sudden jolt, your noses now touching, eye to eye and lips to lips. Victor: *Cupping your butt checks and giving them a tight squeeze* You don't understand how much I need you baby bat. *He smirks as he tugs on your hair from behind your back causing you to arch your back, puff your chest and press your heat on his* Fuck baby *he cusses under his breath*

Victor: Get up take your underwear off...leave everything else on (if you have pants on you take them off, short skirt you keep it on) *He slump back eyes on you watching every move* Reader: *You crunch over to discretely take your clothing off* AHH!! *You cried out a red mark appeared and started stinging. Victors hand print stained you ghostly skin*

Victor: I want to see everything...*he unzips his fly teasingly.* Reader: *your fingers reach the hem of your underwear as you bend over slowly dragging the fabric over and off your legs. Cocking you head to the side eyeing Victor through your now messy hair* Victor: *Groans loudly as you see a tent in his pants twitch* Don't tease me you'll regret it baby bat....come here. *He looks up at your face covered in bliss.He chuckles* The weed is really kicking in.

Reader: I want you really bad Vic *you blert out*

Victor: Turn around baby *he smirks guiding your hips back to his lap* Can't go back now... *He places a hand on the under your thigh before propping your leg over his doing the same to the other side*

*Victors hand brushed your inner thigh making you shudder as the other snaked under your shirt chasing your ribs to your breasts massaging and cupping them. Victor Starts kissing and sucking at your neck leaving read marks for the world to see. Reader: *you let out a moan as Victor suddenly roughly grabs your hips, pressing your heat down onto his bulge more as he slowly grinds. Your heat was starting to tense and pulsate the sticky fluid dripping onto his Camo print cargos.* Reader: Vicccck *you moan a little louder*

Victor: *Whispers in your ear* Look how wet you are making a mess already and I haven't even touched you... *He starts man spreading his legs forcing you to spread your even more for him, your heat was out in the open. Oozing onto the floor a creamy slick liquid* Victor: You look so fucking hot right now... *he groans* *His hand swiftly slips under your bra and start rolling your nipple tips between his fingers in a rough half circular motion* *SLAP!!!*

Reader: AHHH!!! *You cry out in shock throwing your head back over Victors shoulder. Facing the ceiling* Victor:*SLAP, SLAP, SLAP you became a twitching groaning mess* This is how it's gonna feel when I beat that pussy up *he whispers your ear, he raises his hand* Victor: Your soaking wet *raising his hand admiring the creamy white liquid* Reader: *you huff and pant the sweat starting to form in droplets around your neck, face and chest. You started rocking your hips arching back onto his bulge*

Victor: *He Spreads your legs even more as you thighs started to ached* No that ain't how this goes *he coos bring his hand back down touching your sensitive slit his fingers softly pressing down the sides of your clit* Reader: Vic Pleaseee! *You beg him to stop teasing you*

Victor: I'm sorry I can't hear you baby could maybe say that a bit louder *his fingers trace there way to your sensitive little bean. His finger tips rubbing gentle small circles around it. Reader: Uuhhhgg Victor please....don't tease me anymore *you struggle to stay conscious as your eyes roll back. The weed, the heat and the want starting to drive you crazy.

Victor: *smirks* Fine I'll stop teasing.. *with one hand he pulled out his swollen man hood, a trail of pre cum leaking out the tip. You could feel the hot touch between your butt cheeks growing to your clit lips.* Reader: Viiicc mmph *you moan into his ear, panting as you try rocking your clit lips on his man hood coating it in your juices.* Victor: Sorry baby but not today *he smirks before his middle and ring finger circle and rub at your entrance. With a SLAP he enters your wet walls his knuckles stretching you just a little bit further*

Reader: AHH ah haaa Vic please I want more *your head hung low a little embarrassed gasping for air*

Victor: You gotta watch baby bat *he bites his lip as he felt his man hood twitch, his other hand grabbing your face making you watch his fingers curl up inside you*

Reader: *your toes curl feeling his fingers intensely rubbing your good spot. Pressing up against it as he moves his fingers in and out at an increasing pace. You could hear him panting in your ear*

*You could feel your walls tightening, you start to squirm, Victor kept adjusting his hand so no matter how much you squirm you wouldn't escape. Your hands found their way to his hair rubbing and tugging lightly. You felt an uncomfortable knot forming in your stomach, the heat building as you arch your back Victor pushes his fingers all the way hitting your cervixs.* *His whole hand grabbing and pressing against your clit.He could feel it twitch and tighten. This clear liquid dripping down onto the floor. His other hand left your jaw reaching for your swollen bean, starting to lightly tap on it then soon after firmly rubbing it in an up and down motion matching his thrusting fingers.

Reader: Ahhh Vic Ah-ah AHHMMPPH *squirted, creaming all over his fingers* Reader: aaaahhh mmm *Victors fingers still rubbing your g spot and your clit gently as you ride out your orgasim. Victor: You so fucking beautiful baby bat... *He sucks his fingers tasting all your juices. Reader: Your hand brushed his still hard member* Victor: It's okay baby I'll save this for you later. *He smiles softly guiding your hand away. Reader: *annoyed* You're really gonna do me like this Vic... Victor: Oh I'm gonna make you obsessed with me and my dick *he smirks confidently, tucking his member into the lining of his pants.*

Reader :*You huffed, Victor places his hands around your waist, his chest touching your back as he held you close giving you a loving kiss on the check.* Victor: Come on baby bat I have a feeling we are gonna be really late to class. *His hands brought your legs back together, gripping your hips and slowly standing up. Victor makes sure to hold you in case you fall. You legs were shaky and sore from the rough treatment.

Victor: *rest his chin on your head. His arms wrapped around your upper body* I hope I didn't hurt you to much... Reader: *you smile to yourself* I'm okay...I'm sure we are going to be seeing each other more. Victor:You're more than welcome to come find me at Our spot baby bat. *He kisses your head before taking your hand, carefully leading you out of the abandoned bathroom.

WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE A. Follow Vic to HIS CLASS (Part 4) B. Make you way to YOUR CLASS (Part 4)

[astroboots]

omg im sorry you’re not feeling too well! i hope you heal fast! and also i’m glad your back! may i please request joel x f!reader, maybe a moment for joel realized the domestic moment between him and the love of his life? could be she’s making him dinner after him being out all day? he gets all flustered n shit and shows his affection to her? 🧚🏼‍♀️

What's in a Name?

Author's name: Thank you for the well wishes nonny that's so kind of you!!!! Sorry that this is a little bit different from what you requested. My concentration today is all over the place and this did its own thing.

Content: Pre-breakout Joel! Fluff, baby naming. This is not my normal repertoire for those who tune in regularly.

Astroboot’s Masterlist

"What about Jessica?"

The image of a shiny pearl teethed smile, framed by blonde curls, chewing her gum as she twirls her hair with her index finger flashes before his eyes as Joel is standing before the sink, elbows deep in dishwasher.

Jessica-- a girl he dated back in his high school, dumped him a week before prom and Joel ended up having to take his and Tommy's cousin to save face. Yeah... not Jessica.

Joel bites down on his jaw, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. If he keeps going at it at his molars are going to grind to dust in the near future, and he'll be damned if Tommy gets to gloat about the state of his teeth when he's barely in his mid twenties.

"No," he answers curtly, and he hands you the scrubbed plate that you gracefully accept and dry with the damp towel.

"Crystal?" you ask.

"Hell no."

You tuck away the plate into its rightful place in the cupboard, tip-toeing to reach the highest shelf and he reminds himself that he will have to call in Tommy to help adjust the shelf to lower them by a handful of inches so it'll easier for you to reach before you're too far along.

"What's wrong with Crystal?"

"That's a stripper's name. We're not naming our daughter that. A name is supposed to be aspirational, I don't want my daughter to aspire to be shaking her ass on a stage for cash."

You grumble and mutter something indecipherable under your breath that rhymes with seabass.

"Fine, what about Melody."

Joel sighs, he swears you're doing this on purpose. "No. Not Melody. Melody is my hoarder aunt who permanently smells like cat pee. That's not the name of my future daughter."

"You're being very difficult, Joel Miller." You huff, turning away from him and back to the counter. He watches you from the corner of your eye as you flip through a book, nose scrunching up as your eyes flit over the the page in scrutiny.

You hum considerately, and flip another page, finger dragging down the page before you finally stop and tap the paper. "Oh," you say matter-of-factly, "what about Sarah?".

Joel wants to laugh. Has to bite down the grin that's starting to curve on his lip. You think you're so slick. You think he hasn't seen the name scribbled down in notebooks left open on the kitchen table. That he hasn't spotted even from this distance that it's the only name that you had circled in with think pencil in the name book. That he doesn't know from the very start that this had been your first and only choice for the name, and he plays dumb to the fact that all these other questionable names were thrown at him as decoy to tactically position your actual choice as the most reasonable and optimal option.

He drags his eyes over your form. The way you're trying to stand still and not give your excitement away. The way your shoulders practically vibrate with eagerness. The way your eyes are glittering in the dim amber light of the kitchen. Your fingers still resting on the page of the book, your little finger curling around the edge of the hardcover. The same finger you've got him wrapped around and do your every bidding, even if he pretends otherwise.

Pulling his arms from the water, he flicks off the water before he grabs a towel to dry his hands. "Hmmm." He tips his head, feigning complete ignorance. "What does the name mean?"

"It's from the bible. Means princess. That's beautiful isn't it? No exes, no strippers, no crazy cat aunts. What do you say?"

You put down the book, smiling brightly at him, clearly knowing what his answer is going to be already.

He's not even going to point out how you've completely given yourself away by mentioning that you knew Jessica is an ex without him telling you so. Because yeah, you got him entirely, wrapped around your little finger.

"Sure honey. Sarah sounds good."

Request a Joel Miller Mini Drabble

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[jackals-ships]

JACKAL I must apologize I was like I WILL GO CHECK F/O LIST because I am not 100% sure which bot you ship with (<- did not care about robots until suddenly I cared A LOT) though I thiiink it's Megatron bUT sorry if I'm wrong fkdjashkj BUT BEARING IN MIND I HAVEN'T FINISHED S1...I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR SHIP(S) 👀 and perhaps read fic at some point if you are able to find it @goldenworldsabound

(<- did not care about robots until suddenly I cared A LOT) IS AN ENTIRE MOOD THO HFKF tfp is like some sleeper cell activation code i SWEAR,,, + ur all good !! i gotta fiddle w my f/o list a lil and then repost it bc i kept meaning to make minor changes an then forgor,

BUT ANYWAYS YES !!! he's also, hilariously, one of the f/os i have a physical lil guy of despite being not on my radar as long as like garrus hf

also a read more bc i woke up Rambly today <3

he gets to sit with the ponies :} bc he canonically likes mlp at least according to the lil ask Megatron bit + there was a whole comics crossover (2 I think actually?)

breakdown + knockout are also My Besties they started out as like kinda baby crushes <- local aro can't tell the difference between Feelings even in fiction more at 11 [lighthearted] before megs came for my braincell with the fuckin. steel chair HFJ so seeing you go 👀🥰 at knocks i was like FUCK YEAH LETS GOO !!! im dropping into his work station from the ships vents like oooo someone's got a cruuuuush ooooo you wanna be all (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）don't u knocks- (jackal is once again banned from the nemesis)

okay okay but; i rlly only have one fic Finished and luckily had the foresight to post it to AO3. it's a lil older so not totally in character + canon but still silly and cute hjfkd

NOW GETTING INTO MY RED STRING TERRITORY-

when i get into something with a lot of continuities i tend to kinda? squish em together? or take bits and pieces going >:3 my city now, so the jackal x megatron ship is Primarily TFP but ive also absconded with fun movie details (like megs being i think it was 30? 40 ft tall? Fuck Huge,,,,) and also bits of comics lore/designs (holomatter is an interesting concept and im chewing on Meg's as we speak. gnawing on his arm even-)

but regardless this ship is totally my Slice Of Life Comedy Hour Chill LoFi Beats type of ship HKF like im a sucker for darker stuff higher stakes but i think this one has 0 stakes

like. like jackal and megatron literally met because jackal enjoys long walks on the beach exploring places Away from the city and Generally Away From Ppl to just sorta vibe. and ofc the normal thing to do when coming across a Definitely Alien And If Not Alien Then Like Secret Government Ship is to walk away. NOT wander ur happy lil ass inside like :0 yooooo what do These buttons do

and then when you get kicked out instead of getting squished like the bug you shouldn't come back via the air vents. again. and again and again and AGAIN and AG- until the local alien warlord gives in and is like "yeah okay this is my life now ig???" (soundwave was totally helping them btw. he likes drama 😌 and also has his own human hi adri so he can't say shit-) (also I've never decided on the Actual number of times they break it, in my brain it keeps slowly going up jus bc I find the concept SO funny. pov you're an alien warlord worried you got alien rodents and oh no NVM it's the human again. FUCK-)

it's absolutely the slowest burn too bc Meg's Refuses to admit that he has a crush on the weird squishy thing that keeps breaking in (until he's decided they're dating. and doesn't bother mentioning this) while jackals just 🥰 hehehoho big robot friend who calls me scraplet and sweetspark and sometimes puppy 🥰🥰🥰 also threatened to kill any mech who was mean to me 🤔🤔 weird. aaanyways

THERE'S ALSO a running joke in my head of that "what do you have?" "A KNIFE" "NO-" but it's jackal running off with energon bc you can't SHOW ME a cool liquid and have me NOT want to drink it !! Just a sippy. jus a lil- we'll have the hospital on speed dial pleeeeaaaase-😭

anyways tldr jackal megatron is "I'm not trapped with him he's trapped with me yaaaay :D" and "robot google; weird fuzzy feeling in spark?? how to remove weird fuzzy feeling?? robot google human exterminator near me-"

[hylianmewmew]

b&b au - flesh & thorn: ch 3 - crystalline

teehee heres this weeks update! im zooming through these chapters so ive got a bit of a back log cant wait to share the other chapters with yall

Almost immediately after Keeper and Ravio had left the room Spirit had grabbed a gold headpiece off a stack of books to inspect. The metal burned Spirit’s hand, making him hiss in pain but tried to keep quiet. He quickly drew water using his magic from a basin in the kitchen and applied it to his hand, muttering swears under his breath.

“WHO. FUCKING. TOUCHED. MY. SHIT?” Keeper stormed back into the living room, eyes ablaze with an unnecessary amount of rage for the situation. “OUT. GET OUT. OFF WITH YOU ALL! I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNTIL I’M DONE WITH YOUR GEAR!”

Ravio leaned against a wall, admiring his partner go off on Spirit. “She told you not to touch anything.” He huffed amusedly. 

Spirit’s eyes watered, giving Keeper puppy eyes as he clutched his injured hand. “Ok, well you didn’t mention; one, that you have super skills to detect whenever your shit’s being touched and two, that you just keep magical items just laying about. Warn a guy!”

Keeper rolled its eyes. “I shouldn’t have to warn you, I said don’t touch my shit! Now get out!! Spirit has ruined it for the group.” She spun on her heel, leaving the room once more.

Spirit stomped off, slamming the front door behind him. Hare shrugged and followed suit, they didn’t want to get yelled at too. 

Sky hovered for a moment as they all filed out the door. “Great first impression there. We just started this quest, please don’t make enemies with our comrades already. You should probably apologize, Keeper seemed pretty pissed.”

Shaking his head, Spirit just walked off in the direction of Kakariko. “Yeah, whatever.”

Walking through Kakariko proved to be more entertaining than watching Keeper yell at Spirit. Wanderer was admiring all the different colors of fabric and spices as they all followed Sky through the vendor streets. The smells of spices and grilled food drew Wanderer in next to a booth, grabbing Hare’s arm to come closer. Hare’s eyes grew wide, spotting a skewer with meat and mushrooms.

“Oh! I need to eat that right now.” Hare became bug-eyed, staring at the skewer until they finally decided to buy one. It immediately devoured the entire thing with a feral energy Wanderer was intimidated by. With a mouthful of food, “You NEED to try this Wanderer, it’s so good.”

“Hare, I can barely understand you, chew first talk later. Also, by the Goddesses slow down!” Wanderer snorted before also ordering a skewer. He was equally as delighted by the food as Hare, but less expressive about it. 

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[rrxnjun]

two people ;; mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader genre: wedding planner! mark, fiancé! jeno, strangers to lovers au | slice of life, slowburn, angst, hurt/comfort word count: 16.8k warnings: swearing, a break up a/n: i broke my own heart with this one. also, the blue monday series is finally over, after more than a year passing since i started it haha <3 sorry it took so long, but im happy to finally have a series that i managed to complete :) thank you for everyone that read the series, all of the fics are insanely special and to me and i hold them very dear to my heart. hope you like a painful hurt/comfort as our last stop!

synopsis: two people under bedsheets: one suffocating lover, one fool in a wedding gown. in other words, where you find the courage to get over your guilt and break free from your own promise, all becasue, in true irony, your wedding planner.

blue monday series | playlist

TWO PEOPLE UNDER BEDSHEETS, ONE SHIVERING WITH COLD FEET

You’re quite certain you’ve rethought your decision more times than you can count.

When your body hits the cold sheets of your bed, stumbling to your side of the mattress, you wonder if the heater broke again and you’re going to spend another night alone, shivering until the tiredness doesn’t make your thoughts turn off and your eyelids get heavy with sleep. Dressed in your usual pajamas and staring out of the window, watching the stars shyly glimmer, the moon kisses your cheeks in a solemn feeling of a weird nostalgia you can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard you try. The feeling is quite uncomfy. It makes your bones itch, it makes you wonder what is wrong and why you’re suddenly so deep in your thoughts, wondering about all the different paths you could’ve taken. You try to battle the feeling, but there’s no use– it’s too strong and you’re too weak; too tired to keep fighting.

A huff lands into your ear, a muffled sigh that makes you slightly open your eyes and still in your movements, wondering if you’ve woken him up. Feeling momentarily bad, you get ready to mumble a whispered apology for going to bed so late when you know that he has to wake up early for work tomorrow, acknowledging the fact that your arrival to bed always startles him and makes him wake up in the middle of the night, when a strong arm slings itself over your middle, engulfing you in a tight back-hug.

His body grows closer to you, shuffling himself to stick himself as close to your body as possible, a heavy breath reaching your ear. Your hand automatically reaches for his one laying on your stomach, looking over at him to see his eyes still closed, noticing his breathing being steady. You haven’t woken him up, you sigh in relief, eyes traveling along his face for some time, studying his features as if this was the first time he’s so close to you. 

His eyelashes kiss his cheekbones, sharp edges of his face making him perhaps one of the most handsome people you’ve ever seen. You remember all the girls in university being jealous of you, for you’ve managed to catch Lee Jeno– the Lee Jeno everyone had been pining over ever since before you enrolled, feeling pride for how long your relationship has lasted. The shape of his lips is now a familiar sight to you– you bet you could recognise his mouth even with your eyes closed, knowing his warmth and his mannerisms while kissing you by heart now, for it’s happened more times than you can count; more times than you can remember. 

Looking back over to the window, eyes briefly catching the time glimmering on the alarm clock sitting on your bedside table, you bite down on your lips and try to battle the weird feeling starting to dangerously spread across your insides again. His body pressing itself into your back is warm, trying hard to provide you with a sense of home and safety.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you fight the sigh that desires to come out of your chest.

Shimmering in the cold– because your body doesn’t let you absorb the hotness of his love anymore– you nervously play with the silver on your ring finger, twirling it around and feeling for the little pedant in the middle.

Almost like every other day, not being able to fall asleep, you’re quite certain you’ve rethought your decision more times than you can count.

Heels clicking on the shiny white floor, you walk through the narrow hall of the building in the very center of your hometown, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. As you near the service you’re supposed to visit today, your heart starts doing little tumbles and turns, your hands shaky as you think of the appointment right in front of you. Taking a deep breath in and out, you run your hand through your hair, trying to calm yourself down for the last time as you open the door and step inside of the room, telling yourself that there’s no turning back now and you’re in it for good.

The bell above the door rings, making you cautiously look around the room, noticing the whole store decorated in white and nude tones, plants and flowers potted everywhere across the spacious room. In the corner of the whole store, you see a little light wooden desk with three cushioned chairs, a desktop computer in the corner, various catalogs scattered across the surface with some more in a little white IKEA bookshelf right behind it all. 

Admiring everything, you almost don’t notice the man peeking his head out of the door on the right, a hesitant look playing with his features. 

“Good morning,” he says, bowing to you out of politeness.

Caught off-guard for no reason at all, you turn your lips into a tight-lipped smile, greeting him. “Good morning! I’m… uh… I’m supposed to have an appointment today,” you say, playing with your fingers as you clasp your hands together at your waist.

“Oh,” he nods, finally coming out of the room, furrowed eyebrows and all, “Ms… and Mr Lee?” he asks, confirming, earning himself a hurried nod.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m- I’m Ms Lee to-be,” you clarify, licking your lips in nerves.

The man in front of you nods, ushering you towards the little station in the corner, leading you to the chair and inviting you to sit down. “And Mr Lee is…?”

“At work,” you mutter, putting your hair behind your ear, “he’s- he’s quite busy with work, usually, so he wasn’t able to come and I didn’t just want to cancel it, so I figured I can come alone, but- but he’ll be here the next time, I promise!” you hurriedly explain, suddenly feeling shy under the stranger’s gaze, not wanting to be judged by, who you assume is, your wedding planner.

His smile is gentle and reassuring, nodding as he stares into your eyes. “No worries! It’s okay, it’s just… unusual to come alone to a wedding planning, but I suppose we can work with only you today, then,” he says, his voice calm and sending shivers down your spine.

Clearing your throat, you take your eyes off the stranger in front of you, letting them travel all across the room, desiring to find something to put your attention towards. The whole situation feels weird and awkward. Who even comes to plan their wedding alone? It’s not like it’s only your wedding– there’s two of you that are getting married, and it’s only expected for you two to do it all together. And that’s how it was supposed to go anyway– the appointment at the wedding salon was scheduled a little over a few weeks ago, with Jeno reassuring you that he’s free that day; but when the day came and he told you he has work, you wanted to cancel it and come some other day. He refused, though, telling you that you can start on it alone and he’ll just compromise with you and follow what you’ve chosen.

It all feels like it’s supposed to be about you, but when your own wedding is the thing on line, it almost looks as if your own fiancé isn’t even interested in being a part of it. 

“My name is Mark Lee, by the way,” the man says after clearing his throat, catching your attention again and offering you his hand to shake, “I’m the person in charge of your wedding, it seems! I hope you find working with me on this important day fun and that we can arrange something you two have always dreamt of,” he smiles as you take his hand and shake it, noticing the warmness of his touch.

Mark Lee doesn’t seem like your typical wedding planner. The ones you see in the movies are almost always female, with long acrylic nails and blonde hair pinned up into a funky hair-do, with bright eyes and smile lines imprinted into their face. Mark Lee, on the other hand, is a male– which is unusual, to say the least– and he also seems nothing like the movies. He’s calm and gentle, although still excited to work with you on the day of your dreams, with a shy smile and honest eyes that are slightly covered by the fringe of his chocolate hair falling into them, making him look young and lively.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, “my name’s ______ ______,” you introduce yourself with your first and last name, not taking Jeno’s just yet and shuffling a little in your seat.

“Okay, so,” Mark says as he takes out a notepad and types in the password into the computer that’s sitting in the corner of the desk, “I suppose we can start brainstorming today? Maybe tell me your main ideas, what you want for the wedding and what you don’t, how you want it to be decorated, just- just the general idea, nothing too detailed. We can move further when your fiancé is here as well, to make sure your ideas align and stuff. Sounds okay?”

Humming in approval, you watch him click around for a bit, opening some documents, while also twirling his pen in his other hand, the movement of it through his fingers fascinating you. The steady motions of the blue plastic of the pen catch your eye and make you zone out for a few seconds, completely making you forget about the task at hand and clearing your head out.

“So, anything you have in mind?” Mark perks up your attention again, making you swiftly take your eyes off the pen in his hand and instead look into his eyes again, finding yourself having a hard time maintaining eye contact with his deep brown eyes.

“I- I…” you stumble over your words, trailing off as you get lost in your thoughts. Wondering what your ideal wedding should look like, you chew on your bottom lip and try to imagine the day playing out right in front of your eyes. Your imagination tends to be crazy and wild, completely vivid, but for some reason, in this moment, you can’t seem to see the scene materialize in front of your eyes no matter how hard you try, all moments of it in your brain turning out blurry and hazy, making you sigh in frustration.

What do you even want your wedding to look like? How do you want it to play out? The questions run through your brain in a rush, not letting you focus and come up with answers, making the man in front of you silently clear his throat to get your attention. 

Noticing that you’re probably wasting his time with this, your cheeks feel hot as you point your eyes towards your shoes, sighing. “I’m- I’m sorry. I think… I… I don’t- I don’t really think I have an idea of how the wedding is supposed to look like?” you mumble out, sounding more like a question than a firm answer.

“I see,” Mark answers, nodding in acknowledgement, “you have all the time you need, don’t worry. We’re here to make it perfect,” he says, smiling at you.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you realize you’ve never really fantasized about your wedding. You remember all your classmates at school sighing and gasping about the idea of a big wedding, marrying the love of their life; but you surely don’t remember ever engaging in those conversations. It’s like you never really cared to get married, you never really wondered how it would feel to kiss your loved one at the altar, you never really thought of it as a big deal. And now, when the day is supposed to come that those imaginations are to come true, you find yourself torn and confused, because how do you even chase a dream that was never there in the first place? How do you fulfill expectations you don’t have?

“To be honest, I have no idea about what I want, I just- I kind of know what Jeno would want, so I suppose I can just follow that, but- but I never really…” you trail off, seeing Mark nod and bite on his lower lip. 

“Uhm,” he hums in understatement, “I see. Maybe… maybe you can look through some catalogs and see what you like the best? I understand that you know what your fiancés' imaginations are, but I also want both of the parties to like the big day, so I need your input as well.”

Gulping, you hurriedly nod, sweaty palms reaching over to the magazines on the desk, desperately flipping through the pages and pointing your gaze towards the pictures, trying hard to admire the big ceremonies, the pink and red decorations, the flower crowns and red carpets on the beach; but once again failing, noticing that this is nothing close to what you imagine when you think of what’s supposed to be the happiest day of your whole entire life. 

The pages of the catalog stick together, making you desperately try to peel them off of each other with your clammy fingers, your breathing getting quicker as you notice the eyes of Mark Lee on your figure, watching over your every move. 

This is not at all how you imagined the appointment to go. You’re only wasting his time and embarrassing yourself– there’s no way you’re ever going back.

“Hey, I’ll send you this quiz, okay? It’s like a- like a little questionnaire where you pick and choose what you like and answer some simple questions and then it gives you a rough idea of what your wedding could look like based on these answers,” Mark says, making you halt in your motion, “I know this is probably a lot of pressure on you right now, since the whole process could be scary and stressful and you’re out here all alone, so don’t worry about not giving me an answer today, alright?”

You find yourself nodding, averting the hands off the pages of the catalog and pressing your body further into the chair. “Alright.”

“And you can also take some of these catalogs home and look through them, mark what you like, take notes in them… whatever you want, okay? And the next time you come with Mr Lee, you can tell me what you both like and we’ll work from that.”

Following his lead in the conversation, you nod again and watch him close the catalog you’ve been frantically searching through for the last few minutes, stacking some more on top of it and pushing the pile towards you so you can take it home. 

“Tell me your number so I can text you the link to the test and the next time you come, it will be easier, I promise.”

“Okay,” you nod, desperately trying to take your attention off the fact that you probably look like a little child, following each instruction that’s been given to you, too scared to take a move.

Paying your goodbye to the wedding planner and taking the pile of catalogs back to your car, your heels meeting the ground resonating all through the empty hallway as you walk out of the building, your mind flashes with the thought that Mark Lee already had your email address and he could’ve just sent you the link there.

Sitting in the silent car for a minute before you drive off, you try to battle the memory of what happened just a few minutes prior out of your head.

Fixing up your lipstick in the mirror of Jeno’s car, you get ready to enter the premises of the wedding salon once again, but this time, with your fiancé by your side. You suppose that the last meeting was completely useless- Jeno told you so as well, and you agree, in a way– but if you wouldn’t have gone to that first meeting, you think that the second one would make you even more nervous.

You see, it’s easier to pretend that you know what you want when you’ve rehearsed what you want to say beforehand. Taking the quiz Mark Lee sent you, and also a couple of more, accompanying yourself with catalogs, magazines and Pinterest boards while your fiancé was at work, you tried hard to come up with something you wouldn’t hate as much. 

Maybe you just don’t like the idea of a wedding. That doesn’t mean you should crush your fiancés dreams to the ground and make the whole thing more difficult than it should be. You’ll just go along with it, get married, and then, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. It's as simple as that– you’re good at compromising, after all.

“Ready?” Jeno asks you as you put the cap of the lipstick you’ve been using back on, shooting you a quick look before you nod and open the door of the car, climbing out of the vehicle.

Following Jeno’s footsteps, so confident and easy it almost makes you feel like he’s been here before, you reach the entrance of the wedding salon in no time. You texted Mark about the time of the next meeting a week ago– you figured it’s easier to communicate like this, instead of emailing each other back and forth. Finding a time when it would be fine with both Jeno and you, and also looking for a free time in Mark’s schedule was quite difficult, but you managed to find a spot on a Thursday afternoon. 

You hoped the day would come slower than it did, but as we all know, life doesn’t work like we want it to all the time.

Hearing the ring of the bell above the door, your wedding planner is already waiting for you at the computer, a welcoming smile adoring his features. You find yourself smiling back at him, easing into the situation. The man in front of you is wearing black jeans and a white button-down, opting to a more professional look, as he shakes his hand with your fiancé and introduces himself. 

“Hello!” Mark smiles, sitting down at the stool, pointing his eyes towards the computer and clicking around for a bit, seemingly opening some document where he can note down everything you two tell him about the vision you have for your wedding. “So, as I already mentioned with Y/N the last time, I’d like to hear some brainstorming from both of you right now, just to see the general idea that we can build off of next. Sounds good?”

Jeno offers him a nice smile, the one where his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents, turning into the adorable samoyed you fell in love with in university. Reaching for his hand, you try to calm yourself down by playing with his fingers– an action you always used to practice whenever you were nervous about something– ready to continue with the planning of your wedding. 

“Sounds great,” Jeno agrees, making Mark nod at his answer, glad with the reply he got. Resting his back against the chair, the man in charge of your wedding looks at you with expecting eyes, ready to hear your answers.

“So, what comes into your mind when you think of your wedding?” Mark asks.

Jeno looks at you for a split second, smiling, as if he was waiting for you to go first and say your ideas. When you don’t comply and stay silent instead, he wastes no time in turning to the other man in the room, talking enthusiastically about what’s going to be the most important day of his life, making you stare at him in examination and interest.

“I think of something romantic. I like grand gestures and big things, so I want our wedding to be one big party where everyone has fun and stays up the whole night,” he starts, making you hum. You knew that Jeno was into these kinds of things– he never missed a chance to celebrate anything with his friends Doyoung and Renjun. Even the way he proposed to you was a grand gesture in itself.

The whole thing played out on your vacation in Spain. You like Spain– the architecture, nature and the sea. Everything about it is your ideal vacation spot, a spot that makes you relax and reset after the whole year. Your first vacation with Jeno was in Spain, and so to be proposed to in the same spot you two walked across together a little over 4 years ago was only fitting and romantic. The beach spot you two found together when you graduated from university was decorated with flower petals and fairy lights, making you wonder how and when your dear partner managed to set all of this up, and when he kneeled down and asked you to marry him, you didn’t have it in you to say no. 

Not that you wanted to say no, of course. You’re in love with Lee Jeno– you somehow think that you always have been and also you always will. Marriage is a big step, though, so you think that the status itself was what made you halt and hesitate for a split second before you replied a teary-eyed “Yes” and kissed your boyfriend with fondness and urgency.

“Alright, sounds good. When you close your eyes and imagine the day, what do you see? Anything specific?” 

Jeno hums, even closing his eyes and thinking deeply, before he replies with a grin. “I see people dancing. I also think I’d like it to be in a big venue, a lot of white and pink… something similar to what you have going on right here, to be honest,” he says.

“Great. Y/N?”

Raising your brows up, startled, you point your look to Mark and realize he wants you to answer his question as well. A wedding is a thing for two– at least– so it’s only normal for him to expect you to have some opinion and idea of what you want.

“I… I’d like it to be something small and comfy? With my closest friends, and stuff. I don’t mind it being decorated simply, since… I’m not really that about flowers and… all that romance stuff…” you say honestly, making sure the rehearsed sentences you made up in your mind on your way here sound gullible. 

It’s not that you’re lying– you just, frankly speaking, still don’t think you love the idea of a wedding. What you’ve said is just a thing you know you’d hate the least. 

Mark looks at you with an examining look, furrowing his eyebrows as he nods and notes down everything both of you have said into the computer. 

“That’s… your opinions are completely opposite, to be honest, but I’m sure we can find a compromise and create something both of you would like. I’ll show you some catalogs and you can both point to things you’d like, okay?” Mark says, rummaging through the drawers of his desk and offering you some magazines, almost identical to the ones you have at home from the last time you visited.

Seeing Jeno taking charge and flipping through the pages with much excitement, you watch his profile when he smiles and points to pictures of greatly decorated wedding halls, churches, tables full of cakes and a picture of the groom and the bride photographed together in a dramatic posture, dipped down and kissing. Flower petals, sparkles and fairy lights everywhere– this is the image of a wedding your fiancé would love, and you’re aware of the fact all too well.

“Isn’t this great, love?” he asks, not even tearing his eyes off the page he’s currently looking at, too busy with studying all the details, already imagining the two of you in the moment captured on one of the pictures in the catalog.

Eyes glazing over the glossy page, you bite down on your lower lip, sighing. 

Again, you don’t find it in you to disagree. He looks so excited and you wouldn’t want to break his heart with your decision.

So instead, you only nod and try to put on your best excited tone. “It looks amazing, Jeno.”

Your eyes meet Mark’s for a moment. 

The look is full of stern sympathy.

ONE SUFFOCATING LOVER ONE FOOL IN A WEDDING GOWN

The next part of your wedding planning journey is perhaps the one you, as the bride, should find the most exciting. How you’re gonna look on your big day is truly important, since you can only imagine full instagram stories of the wedding of every single guest invited, and also, the pictures you take on your wedding are what’s shown around to next generations, making your kids look at the moments captured in time, making them see the blueprint of what’s love supposed to look like while also simultaneously reminiscing of the feelings that died down over the years, simmered and a little washed-out into gray.

Maybe the last thing is what is making you despise the idea of marrying someone so much. What if, after many many years, when you’re at the end of your journey, the pictures would bring more pain than joy? What if it’s a painful reminder of something great that you no longer have in your grasp?

You don’t know what’s making you feel so conflicted about the whole thing. Thinking about it is scary, but the underlying stress of everything is still present and makes you constantly feel like you’re walking on eggshells, bound to mess something up.

Standing in another wedding salon, joined by your closest friend Seori– because you despise the idea of a big group of screaming women joining you on your journey of your own remake of Say yes to the dress– and your wedding planner Mark, you wait for inspiration to kick you and set you off to hunting down the perfect wedding dress. 

“Hello, hello,” a man– lean in posture, wearing dress pants and loafers– joins your little group, a bright smile sitting on his face as he speaks to you, “I’m Na Jaemin, nice to meet you!”

Bowing to the man in formality and shaking his hand, introducing both yourself and your best friend of many years, you grow hesitant in your place. Eyes roaming around the room– walls painted a light peach color, creating a beautiful contrast with the white dresses hung all around the room– you take a deep breath in and out, taking a glimpse of Mark Lee standing by your side and saying something to you.

“This is where we usually go with our brides to pick out dresses, since Jaemin here has the most amazing assortment of all kinds and styles,” Mark explains, making you notice that the two men seem rather close. As you nod and walk around the salon with Seori, they catch up for a minute before the one with blonde hair walks up to you with a bright smile.

“Do you have any preferences about the dress? Any image in your head?” he asks, making you startled. This is not the first time you’ve heard someone ask you about your preferences for the wedding, yet, the question always surprises you and catches you off guard. Usually, you’d consider yourself a woman with strong opinions that’s not afraid to voice them– you’ve gotten into multiple arguments about feminism over your university years– but suddenly, you feel weak and disheartened, shrugging.

“I’ve looked on Pinterest the last night… and the last couple of nights, actually,” you softly laugh, trying to ease yourself into the conversation, “I found more styles that I liked, but I’m not sure if they would fit me well.”

“That’s what we’re here for!” Jaemin encourages you. “Just pick up whatever you like and we’ll help you try it on! Any adjustments needed will be done here, so don’t stress about it.”

Gratefully smiling and nodding at the man, you turn to the rack full of pearl white and shades of cream, your hands start working before your brain does, moving the hangers around and taking a look at all of the dresses available, taking your time. You’re not quite sure what would look good on you, not really able to imagine the dresses on your figure, and you feel the mental block of not being excited enough about all of this holding you back and tying you down. 

“What about these?” Seori asks, an excited glint in her voice. Turning around to her, seeing the dress she’s picked out, you can’t help but giggle, since the dress is awfully similar to the obnoxious gown you wore to your senior prom, just in white. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you laugh, coming up to her and taking the hanger into your hands, “one look and I’m back in high school,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief and hanging the dress back onto the rack, giving up on that option already.

“I still remember how funny you looked,” Seori laughs, poking fun at you, “I can’t believe you wore that.”

“I can’t believe you let me wear that!” you argue back. The memories of your senior prom hit you with a sense of weird nostalgia. It was all so easy back then– you went with Jeno, and you had a lot of fun together. It felt like an end of an era, and it truly was just that, even though the reality of it didn’t click for you back then. You’ve lived through multiple stages of your life with Jeno, and to think you’re going to be with him until the end of your life, seems oddly unbelievable on your insides. 

“You were unstoppable, girl,” Seori grins, shaking her head. Continuing to look through the dresses, you pick out a few that you like, hesitantly moving them to the separate rack that’s emptied out for your options. Catching a glimpse of Mark sitting at one of the sofas, alongside with Jaemin, your eyes meet as he offers you a warm smile. This works as a reassurance, making you walk back to the dresses, standing next to Seori, seeing her pick up another white gown, showing it to you.

The dress is long and lacy, decorated with mesh on the shoulders, flowery details scattered all along the skirt. You can’t help but find the dress a little obnoxious, a little too much, perhaps, yet, you’d still call the piece of clothing beautiful, for you can see the appeal of a princessy look for most women your age. Hesitantly scanning over the many details, Seori speaks up to you.

“Jeno would love this on you.” 

Meeting her eyes, she looks at you warmly. She’s known Jeno for as long as you have, all of you being friends since high school, so you can’t say she wouldn’t know. Because, frankly speaking, it’s true– Jeno would love that dress, and he would love it on you. It fits the image of his ideal wedding perfectly, with all the romanticness, all the grand gestures matching with the long skirt and the girly detailing across the neckline. You hate the dress, you feel sick as you’re looking at it, it makes you feel claustrophobic and dizzy, yet, the words that came out of Seori’s mouth resonate in your head over and over, making you pick up the hanger and move it to the rest of your options.

Jeno would love that dress.

“I… I think I have enough options now, I’m gonna try some on,” you say, smiling at the men sitting on the sofa, being met with eager nods of acknowledgement. The two of them seem to talk like old friends, and you can’t help but wonder why Jeno doesn’t meet up with his friends anymore and why he no longer has time for anything other than work. You’d like to see him like this– immersed into a conversation, yet, still playful and happy to just… exist.

Seori helps you into the dresses behind the curtain of the dressing room. The first few of them are a miss, you don’t like the way they look on you and the way some dresses enhance the features you dislike on yourself, saying no to them almost instantly. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get through all the dresses; it feels like infinity, like the time’s stopped and you’re stuck in this loop forever, when only two dresses are left: the one Seori picked out and your own, personal favorite.

Choosing the one Jeno would love the most, you wear it and hear Seori squeal out with excitement. “This looks so good on you! Oh my god!”

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you look like the woman Jeno would want to marry. Like a cut-out from the wedding magazines he likes to look through on his free days, you spin around like a princess, fitting the image of Jeno’s ideal wedding almost perfectly– with all the flowery details and romantic style. 

“Do you like it?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. You must seem unsure– but on the inside, you are screaming. The claustrophobic feeling settles into your chest again, making you feel like you’re suffocating on the inside, making you desire to rip the gown off and never see it again. 

“Let’s show them!” Seori says, opening up the curtain and making you step outside of the dressing room, turning you in your place so you twirl like a Disney princess. “Doesn’t she look magical?” 

Jaemin instantly nods, a happy glint in his eye. You wonder if he likes his job so much– he certainly looks like it, from the never-disappearing smile on his face and the enthusiasm he walks around the place with. You’re quite jealous of him. He seems like the perfect image of what you’ve dreamt of being when you graduated university– a person with their life together, loving their stable job and starting a family. Yet, you’re here– seemingly put together in a wedding dress that makes you panic, the eyes of everyone on you feeling judging, not sure of what to do and to which direction to step towards to finally get yourself together.

“She looks amazing!” you hear Jaemin say, making you nod with tight lips. “Is this your favorite one?” he asks.

Opening your mouth to agree– even though it’s a lie– you blink a few times to calm yourself down. The mental image of your favorite dress still waiting at the empty rack, waiting to be tried on, burns in the back of your brain, but you’ve said goodbye to it the moment you dressed up as Jeno’s bride. 

“It can’t be,” Mark says, making you look at him with glossy eyes, confused.

“B-but-”

“You have one more to try on. You’ll see which one you like better after, okay?” he says, almost as if he was reading your mind, seeing the hesitance you tried so hard to hide.

Nodding, you step inside the dressing room again, changing the dress for the one you picked out with the help of your best friend. Taking a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your eyes almost start to water, the A-line of the skirt and the simplicity of it all making you feel the best, like you could actually imagine yourself getting married, if you were wearing this gown. Turning around in your place, admiring the silk fabric, you don’t think you could ever find a better one. 

Yet, the other dress still sits in the back of your mind like a bad memory, not letting you leave without it. It’s there, pettily kicking it’s foot against the flooring of your brain, bringing you headache and making you nervous as your clammy fingers move your hair away when you step outside of the room, ready to be criticized by the other people at the salon.

Eyes shaking, they find solace in the features of your wedding planner, his eyes like big pools of honey when he softly traces over the lines of your body, his lips parted agape. The expression makes you shy away from his gaze, heat rising to your face when you notice light pink dusting the man’s cheeks, quickly breaking his gaze from you.

“You look beautiful,” he mumbles, clearing his throat. The compliment should sound more casual than it has, the three words making your hands shake as you turn back to the mirror, forcing yourself to watch your surroundings through it instead, shielding yourself from the situation.

“Thank you,” you say.

“So, which one do you like more?” Jaemin asks, walking up to you and tightening the dress around your waist, showing you its full potential. 

Locking eyes with Seori, you see that she’s not up to the simplicity of the dress you’ve got on. You see the suggesting look to the other dress, the one that makes you drown in despair, the one that you should be wearing, logically; the one that Jeno would love to see you in, the one you should be wearing to be his wife. 

Pupils shaking as you take your reflection in for the last time, you’re ready to say goodbye. You’re ready to take the dress off and force yourself to forget about it, force yourself to never think of how pretty you thought you looked wearing it, force yourself to never see the image of you in your brain– to not cause yourself the bittersweet feeling you’ve been getting used to recently.

“Y/N, you should… You should only think about yourself right now, okay? Our opinions don’t matter,” Mark says from behind you, your eyes locking in the mirror. He uses the word ‘our’, suggesting that you shouldn’t think about the people in this room, that you shouldn’t think about what Seori, Jaemin, or Mark himself thinks, but somehow, you feel as if the words had a deeper meaning.

Perhaps he’s telling you to forget about Jeno’s opinion for a minute. To truly let yourself get lost in the planning of the wedding, to let go of the opinion that’s weighing you down the most of them all. To pick the dress you like, and not the one your fiancé would.

“This is the only part of the wedding that’s completely up to you, after all. Maybe you should take advantage of that,” Mark completes, sending an encouraging smile towards your figure.

And he’s right. You can’t be fully in charge anywhere else– almost to the point of feeling like your opinion doesn’t matter if it’s not the same as your fiancé’s– and maybe, that’s what’s making you feel so restricted in the whole process.

Maybe you should take your favorite dress. Maybe you should do at least one thing for yourself.

The trips to Mark Lee’s wedding salon are a usual thing now. It’s your first time planning a wedding for yourself, and while you also truly hope it’s also the last time, you can’t help but feel a little weirded out at the ordinariness of it all. You get used to the trips to the salon, you get used to the time it takes you to drive there in your small car– letting you time the songs in your playlist almost perfectly until the last moment when you park and turn the engine off– only when you’re driving there alone, though, because Jeno likes to pick the music when he drives and compromise is one thing you two can’t do when it comes to a playlist. It’s okay, though. You drive to the wedding salon more times alone than with your fiancé, and while it’s unusual and you’d really want him to be there, you guess you can’t really do anything about it now. It’s not like he was the one to ask you to marry him, after all… 

“What about the honeymoon?” Mark asks one day, looking at you from under his eyelashes. The weather outside is cold and he’s wearing a thick hoodie, his whole outfit looking twice as cozy as your little thin jacket that you threw on yourself quickly before leaving the house. The image of his sweater paws makes you wonder how it would feel to be in the soft material of his light gray hoodie, making you almost slap yourself when you're caught on your own with the thought in your brain. It’s not like you’re thinking of another man when you’re on your way to get married, that’s not it– it’s just the simple jealousy of the warmth Mark radiates that’s gotten you to this point. 

Shrugging, you glance at him, meeting his chocolate eyes. “I bet Jeno would love to go somewhere to the sea. We got engaged on a beach, so I guess that’s the right way to go.”

Scribbling on the notebook that’s sitting on his table– you wonder when he switched from his laptop to written notes; maybe it’s the power crisis– he hums before he turns back to you with an examining look. “And you?”

After working for you for a couple of weeks, the man should already know that it’s no good to ask for your opinion when it comes to your wedding. You don’t really have an image in your mind, and when you do, there’s no use in pushing through with your view, since Jeno’s would always be stronger, and what Jeno says, usually goes. And you love him– he’s the one dreaming so much about marriage. So you do what he wants, naturally. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

Earning yourself a sigh from Mark, you almost laugh at his annoyed look. “How many times do I have to tell you that you need to tell me something I can work with, Y/N?” he asks.

After so many days spent at the wedding salon with Mark Lee, you two have come to a state of a casual friendship. It’s not all so formal and stern anymore, leaving you two space for jokes and snarky comments about cliche decorations shown on the shiny pages of magazines, making you two comfortable with each other enough to joke about looking dead when the other one is tired and telling each other about your days when you have time. Ever since you two have met, you’ve been the most indecisive person Mark Lee’s ever known– and he’s met a lot of people in his profession of a wedding planner so far. The only thing you’ve ever had a straight opinion on was the wedding dress.

He can’t get the picture of you in your dress out of his mind. Sure, he’s seen a lot of brides before, the image not really impacting him as much anymore as before– for the look on the bride’s faces never failed to make him emotional with the premise of the fact that he’s a part of something beautiful. He’s seen a lot of brides and weddings before, but in the white lights of the bright salon, he couldn’t help but think that you’ve been the most beautiful one so far, and he can’t seem to imagine anyone ever beating you. It’s a silly thought– one that he finds himself battling more times than he should, but it’s still there, in the back of his mind, whenever you two meet eyes. 

That’s why he couldn’t let you choose the dress Jeno wanted. Not because he would be selfish– at least he desperately hopes he’s not selfish for wanting to see you in that dress again, at least once, at the wedding– but because he knows that you wouldn’t feel like yourself in the other one. And why would he let that happen, when he’s practically the one in charge of the whole ceremony?

And so, the fact that you say you don’t know what you’d like for your honeymoon doesn’t surprise him. But still, he wishes you could let yourself get more in tune with your opinions than Lee Jeno’s. At least when he’s not present…

“I know, I know,” you roll your eyes at the scolding manner, “but I just… I’ve never thought about it before, I guess?”

“That makes sense, I mean, it’s your first time getting married,” he shrugs, “but you must have a place you’d like to see one day, no? A place both of you, with Jeno, would love to travel to one day,” he says, looking at you with expectations in his orbs.

Lost, shrugging at his question, you almost look full of despair and confusion. Truth be told, planning a wedding is not as relaxing as one would think. There’s many things to take in mind, a lot of things that can go wrong and need to be taken care of. And you keep telling yourself that it’s going to be alright and that it has to be the most perfect day of your life, but you just can’t seem but to be a little stranded, especially in moments when Jeno isn’t by your side; when he’s the one that should be in charge, and not you. 

Maybe Mark can read your mind. Or maybe, he’s just too good at reading people.

“Okay, relax,” he smiles, nudging your leg a little under the table, “then just… think about what you’d like to see. Your dream holiday destination. A place you always wanted to visit. Don’t think about the honeymoon thing or the wedding, if that helps.”

The grateful smile on your face is like a reward for the man, your eyes close a little as you lean back in the chair and think of the place you’d love to see the most. Not held by the grudges of the wedding, not holding on to the thought of a honeymoon, you find it easier to see the place right in front of your eyes, to focus on the noise of the destination, the crowded town centers and amazing architecture; you find it easier to be in tune with what you want, letting go of the thing you always force yourself to say.

“I’d love to go to France. Paris. I- I know they say it’s dirty, but frankly, I just want to see it with my own eyes at least once. And I think it’s quite romantic,” you say, opening your eyes to see the man in front of you glancing at you with a soft smile playing with his features, feeling yourself getting shy as your cheeks heaten up at the words you’ve just uttered out of your lips, “oh god, this might just be the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said out loud.”

Mark chuckles, shaking his head at you. “It’s a nice change.”

Scratching the back of your neck, you watch as the man scribbles down the word ‘Paris’ into his notebook, the lack of eye contact leaving you with your walls down and your soul in open. “But I don’t think- I don’t think Jeno would like to go to Paris. I’ll think of something else, so it fits…”

Looking back up at you, the shame mirroring in your eyes when he examines your whole figure, he lets himself shake his head in disbelief, showing you his true opinion on the comment. “I think you should compromise, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s not a compromise, Y/N,” he says, his voice considerate, “that’s just… you compromising. Not Jeno. Never Jeno.”

And while you’d like to tell him that that’s how it’s supposed to be, because you already agreed to the wedding despite not making your mind yet, while you’d like to tell him that you owe it to him for not being fond of the idea, while you’d like to tell him that what Jeno says goes, because you can’t imagine yourself breaking his heart with telling him that this is not at all what you want– you stay quiet. Shrugging, you avert your gaze to the ground.

“I’m fine with that. I’m more than happy to comply, if he’s happy.”

TWO PEOPLE UNDER BEDSHEETS, ONE WALLOWING IN DEFEAT

Swirling the maroon liquid around in your tall glass, feet dressed in warm socks as you’re twisted into a blanket burrito, you overlook the figure of your fiancé sitting at your small couch, papers sprawled all around the coffee table. Taking a sip of the red wine, you feel comfortable for the first time in weeks– you don’t feel rushed, you don’t feel like there’s a burden on your shoulders– and you pray hard that it’s not just the effect of alcohol.

“Can you pass me that paper?” you ask Jeno, seeing him turn around with his half-wet hair, having just come out of the shower after work, his slight smile putting you at ease.

“Which one?”

“The list of guests. The one in the corner,” you point to the paper sitting at the coffee table, the contents of it another important step closer to your wedding. Mark advised you two to compile a list of all the people you want to invite to your wedding, so you know how big of a venue you’ll need to rent out. You complied to his request, sitting at your table one afternoon and scribbling down names of all the people you’d miss at your wedding, having the list not being that long– there was around 15 people, including your family, and you knew damn well that some of the people in your list will overlay with Jeno’s, for you have a couple of mutual friends.

“Oh,” he nods, passing you the list, “want to go over it? I did mine a while back, when you were at work,” he adds, making you nod.

“Sure.”

“Are you inviting girls from university?” he asked, looking at you from under his eyelashes. He knew some of your friends from uni, and while you could very well imagine your wedding full of people that you barely knew, it’s not something you strive for. Your wedding, at least in your head, is supposed to be a little safe haven– a place where you dance around and have fun, a place where you know each face that shows up, being able to let loose and enjoy the evening with your closest friends. So, to Jeno’s question, you shake your head in disagreement.

“Only a couple,” you say, “my roommates, yes. The other ones, I don’t really need there.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, squinting his eyelashes. In the midst of the scattered sheets of paper on the coffee table, he finds his own list, full of lazy scribbles in black ink. You can tell he took the paper you keep in the kitchen for when you need to write down a shopping list, because it’s a little greasy at the bottom. Looking over the names he’s written down, you notice that his list is significantly longer than yours, and you can also tell that some names, you barely even recognise.

“You want that many people to attend?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I want them all there. Besides, my family’s big, so I can’t really make the list shorter, if that’s what you’re implying,” he notes, taking you off-guard with the sudden protest to something you haven’t even started talking about yet.

“I-I wasn’t saying that, but I think we could… go through your list and maybe forget about some people? I mean, my list is only 15 people long, and if we go through with what you have, we’d have to rent a big venue, and I can only imagine how expensive that will be…” you mumble, trying hard to pursue him.

There’s a shadow of an encouraging smile somewhere in the back of your head, a soft memory of a voice telling you that you two should compromise– you bet it’s Mark Lee, but you won’t admit that to anyone. Something about his words on your last meeting struck with you, though, and even though you would love to comply to everything Jeno wants, because he’s the one in desire of a wedding, you find yourself protesting to his idea, because, frankly, maybe you do not want to spend that much money on a venue, and also, maybe because you wanted your wedding to be small and intimate.

“I don’t care how much it costs, Y/N,” he shrugs, “it’s our wedding. We can spend some money on the special day.”

Sighing, you chew on the inside of your cheek. “I just thought we could have a smaller wedding, you know. I always wanted it to be filled with people I know, people I can’t imagine the day go by without, so I was very cautious with the choice of my guests-”

“And I wasn’t?” he cuts you off, suddenly all defensive.

“That’s not what I said, Jeno-”

“Look, I don’t want to cut anyone off the list. You have your own guest list and I have mine. We rent a venue that can fit both, okay?” he insists, making you finally snap, annoyance for the first time slipping off your tongue.

“Why can’t we just compromise on this?”

The man looks at you with cold eyes, something you never imagined to see from a man you’re in love with. Sure, you’ve had arguments before. Yes, they scared you a little each time, but they weren’t anything you weren’t sure you wouldn’t get through. You and Jeno argue over small, blatant things, things you can fix in a second– nothing to make you worry. This time, though, there’s a hit in your stomach that makes you freeze in your movements, halt in your step. Maybe you’ve hit a weak spot in him. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, full of frustration as he throws the paper onto the table and storms off, closing the door behind him as he walks off to the bedroom, ready to sleep.

Is this how your dialogue was supposed to go? With you stating your needs, and him telling you to get over it? Do whatever you want?

You scoff. As if you wanted to get married in the first place…

Drinking the rest of the glass, you shuffle further down into the sofa, trying hard to make yourself fall asleep in the living room, despite your thoughts running around like they’re on a marathon. The warmth that radiated off the man and the whole situation is now long gone, leaving you feeling like an unlit fireplace, hugging yourself as if to shield your body from the impact of the silent sobs that dare to cut out of your throat.

What Jeno wants, goes. How silly of you to think you can compromise.

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re just not holding on to something that’s slowly burning out. Looking at your fiancé in the wedding salon right now, his side profile so perfect you’ve gotten used to it over the years, you reminisce about the memories you two have made together during your early stages of the relationship. The images flash through your brain in a feeling of bittersweet nostalgia, making you desire a time of life that’s no longer here, because you’re getting older and settling down. It’s not like you can feel free forever, you just don’t feel like you’re free in the relationship anymore– and truth be told, you were free and in love in all those moments you think of with a soft smile, so why is the essence of it no longer there? Is it really just because the thought of marrying someone is so deeply terrifying to you, or is there something more to it?

“Do you like these?” Jeno asks, holding up a wedding invitation to you. It’s snow white and the corners are rimmed with a rose gold color, everything falling perfectly with the decorations and the whole theme of your wedding.

“I do,” you nod.

You don’t.

Everything about the whole day, the closer it is, the more scary it truly feels to you. You can’t bring yourself to think of it, to imagine it, to have the promise of staying with Lee Jeno until the rest of your life right there in front of you eyes, and it all makes you wonder– truly, deeply reflect on yourself– as to why you don’t want that, and why you’re so scared of staying with him forever, when in theory, he’s the one you love and the one you should want to marry. 

“And what about these ones?”

“They’re pretty,” you reply, not meeting his eyes.

You wonder if this is just the aftertaste of the fight you had about the number of guests. Maybe you just don’t feel in tune with it because neither of you has acknowledged the argument yet, maybe because you feel bitter because you felt like your opinion wasn’t valid in the process. Maybe that’s what’s making you soullessly stare into nowhere, eyes trailing over the white walls and the clasped hands of your wedding planner sitting cautiously right opposite of you– maybe that’s what’s making you agree to everything Jeno likes; because your opinion will never matter in the first place.

But that’s okay. That’s your fate now– that’s what you signed up for, after all. You agreed to marry him. You told him yes, even though the reply wasn’t clear in your head, you said you’d love to spend your forever with him, even though the feelings battling inside of you were so conflicting, yet the one you were leaving more towards was the urge to run away. So now, you have to face it; you have to marry him, because you lied to him about your emotions, because you let him down with a promise you never wanted to keep; because you can’t face the reality of breaking the man’s heart when all he did was love you deeply.

And it’s not even that you don’t love him anymore. Maybe you just hate the idea of your relationship feeling ordinary. Maybe you’re selfishly just bored. 

“So, which ones do you prefer?” Jeno asks, looking at you with big eyes. If you stare into them for long enough, you could even see a hint of him trying to do better– asking for your opinion and ready to respect it, a hint of him saying sorry for the things he’d said without words, laying the opportunity of being in charge to you again. 

Shrugging, you chew on the inside of your cheek. You hate both. You hate the idea of every single wedding invitation, because you don’t want a wedding, and the idea of using these little pieces of cardboard to invite numerous people to see you lying into your partner’s eyes makes you want to dig a hole and lie in it, maybe even bury yourself alive. “I like both.”

“But we need to choose one,” he insists, putting a hand to your thigh, his grip soft, yet protective and comforting. You used to love his sudden touches, the affection seeping off his fingers any time his fingertips glazed the surface of your skin. Now, you find yourself wanting to shrug the hand off, for the contact of it with your body burns, making you guilty for a mess that’s currently going on in your head, making you dizzy and confused.

“I-” you stutter, “which ones do you like?” you ask, helpless.

Eyes scanning over your figure, Jeno almost pressures you for more. He almost asks for your opinion again, wanting to see the excited glint in your eye as you look through the magazines and choose your wedding invitations, but when he finds nothing in the endless pools of your eyes, he knows to step back and leave it be, a hopeless sigh escaping his lips. “I like the first ones better.”

You could guess the answer if you were asked to.

Smiling, you nod. “I was leaning towards these as well.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Totally,” you nod, trying to reassure him with a soft smile. You’re not sure if it reaches your eyes– you just know that if it doesn’t, Jeno can clearly tell.

“Okay, that’s all for today, I think,” Mark concludes, making you look at him. His chocolate orbs are plastered on your distressed face and you feel naked in front of him, you feel as if he can see right through your lies, as if he can tell that you really want to be anywhere but here right now. 

“Thank you,” Jeno smiles at your wedding planner, the two of them shaking hands in a formal manner before your fiancé stands up from his chair and reaches for his coat, ready to leave the office. When your eyes meet with Mark’s, you offer him a friendly smile– the one you always have saved for him– and turn towards your coat as well, ready for your departure. Just when you’re about to leave the room, Mark’s voice echoes after you, making you halt in your movements.

“Actually, I forgot… Can I talk with Y/N alone for a sec? It’s about dresses, so… you’re not really allowed to hear, Jeno,” he says, cracking his knuckles as he utters those words, making you nod as Jeno offers him a polite nod, telling you that he’ll be waiting for you in the car outside. Once the door closes behind him and the room falls silent, you move closer towards Mark, looking at him with expecting eyes.

“What is it?” you ask.

Mark takes a deep breath in and out, shaking his head as if to get his thoughts straight, before he looks at you again with softness in his eyes, his voice barely louder than a whisper– for the contents of his speech are something that should be banned to say, especially in a setting like this. “You know you can still back away, right?”

Looking at him for a few seconds, a few seconds that feel like eternity, you blink at him in shock and surprise. “What?”

“There’s still time to say no,” he says, now looking you dead in the eyes, the expression stern, yet considerate. 

His words can’t really process in your head, the whole situation making you break down your walls as you shake your head, running your hand through your hair. Scoffing in disbelief, you turn defensive– because who is Mark Lee to tell you anything about your upcoming marriage and why can he see right through you? Who gave him the right to see through your walls, through the facade you built up all those months ago; who let him make you feel utterly, completely naked in front of him, scared of what he’ll see inside? 

“What are you even talking about?” you snap.

“I think you know what I mean, Y/N,” he says.

“I-” you stutter again, all words stuck inside of your throat, “why would I even want to do that? Why would I want to call it off?”

“Y/N-”

Nothing can stop the tangent that’s incoming out of your lips right now– not the soft, considerate look he gives you, not the eyes full of truth and honesty staring right inside of your soul, not the soft touch on your shoulder that you shrug off in the speed of light as your hands fly into the air in frustration. “It’s not your place to tell me to cancel my wedding, Mark, and I don’t know what’s gotten into your brain to make you think for just a second that that’s what I want to do, because- because I know that I’ve been out of it, I do know that, but I just- I just can’t do that to Jeno even if I really wanted to, you know?” you let out, tired voice echoing off the walls of the salon. “So don’t go around and tell me I can still say no, when I’ve already said yes, and don’t try to tell me that this is what I want, because I truly, deeply wish that I didn’t.”

The defeated look on your face is enough for the man to break, yet, he offers you nothing more than silence as you stare him down, wordless and empty. Breathing heavily, you turn to the door, shaking your head in disapproval of the whole thing.

Turning around one last time at the door, you try to burn Mark Lee down with your eyes, for the comfort he gives you with this new opportunity both sets you free and makes you suffocate at once, his words make your insides burn with ashes as you desperately try to breathe for fresh air– the whole thing leaves you mad and stranded, completely alone and left to lean on nobody, because the one that’s supposed to be there for you now and forever is the object of this mere conversation.

“Don’t- don’t mention this again,” you sternly say, reaching for the doorknob, feeling a stray tear falling off your cheek as you escape the pure white walls of his office. 

This whole time, you didn’t even notice you’ve been crying.

Voices of the people present resonate through the half-empty venue, pearl white pillars supporting the weight of the ceiling situated in calculated places all around the spacious room as you lean on one of them, watching your fiancé walk around with your wedding planner, observing the place. There are big windows on one of the walls, the glass panels providing you with a view of the outside– a pretty, long garden filled with flowers that will wilt once the cold season is over, tall trees shielding some places from the sun, providing a relaxing shade. 

Tugging your sleeves down to further cover your arms, since the place is kind of chilly, you try to catch up to the two men in the other corner of the room, both physically and in conversation. Listening to Jeno asking all about the technical stuff and how the place is going to look once decorated, Mark answers him with factual answers, showing him around and making sure the groom is 100% satisfied with his choice. 

You still think you’d prefer a smaller venue– you still prefer a smaller wedding. It’s not up to you to decide, though, and you’ve given up on that opportunity a long time ago. Maybe in the same moment you said yes to him on the beach– you think that was the moment where you decided your own destiny, the moment where you tied yourself down with a metal ball on your leg, and now it’s your fate to drag it around and pretend it’s not there and that you’re not bothered by the weight.

“It seems perfect,” Jeno hums, making you automatically nod with a mechanical smile, looking around the venue once again. In Jeno’s eyes, it sure does seem perfect– it fits all the criteria of his ideal wedding, of the best day of his whole, entire life. And you can’t lie, if you really tried hard enough, you could even see the vision. You could even force yourself to enjoy the image of it in your head, you could even imagine the day going exactly by the plan, and in reality, nothing will even change, because you’ve been living with Jeno for quite a while now, but the concept just seems so scary and unnatural to you that you can’t help but feel like the reality will crash you any passing second if you don’t try hard enough to keep your guard up.

“It’s amazing,” you nod, afraid to meet any of the men’s eyes. Gathering up all the courage you have left in you, you add another convincing message. “I can almost imagine it all decorated and stuff, it’s gonna be great.”

You hear a strangled hum come out of Mark’s throat, a noise you can only decipher with it’s true emotion because you still have the conversation from a few weeks ago fresh in your brain, replaying over and over in front of your eyes as you can’t fall asleep under the blankets of your soft bed, twisting and turning in despair. If he could see it, why can’t Jeno? 

There’s a hint of you that wishes oh so deeply that your fiancé, the man that knows you the best, could see right through your white lies; there’s a hint of you that desires for him to talk to you about it, to get mad and leave you for leading him on and breaking his heart.

That doesn’t come, though, and you know it never will. You're too far in now to ever look back.

A touch on your hand brings you to avert your gaze from the ground to the man next to you, the emptiness of it all breaking your heart a thousand times over and over, your heart yearning for somebody to take it and mold it back together, glue the sharp pieces back again even though they could cut them, to tell you that it’s okay and that you’re human and that people make mistakes, yours just was a way bigger one than you should’ve ever let happen. But that doesn’t come, and it may never– but it’s okay, because you are the reason for your own downfall, and you’re the reason why you now have to play pretend and suffer. 

You glance up at Mark. Strangely, his eyes soften. He should hate you– for even though you pretend, he knows damn well what storm’s going on on the inside, and maybe you could say it’s only for the years of experience he has with fiancés eagerly planning their wedding that he can see you don’t share the same enthusiasm, or you two were just simply connected and in tune. Chewing harshly on your lower lip, so hard you taste the iron bitterness of your own blood on your tongue, your discomfort tries hard to show at your face and you keep battling hard to not let it slip. 

It’s been years with Lee Jeno by your side. Why can’t he see your suffering?

And you keep telling yourself that maybe it’s just his own joy and enthusiasm that makes him so blind to your averted eyes and still body under his sheets. But that doesn’t help your situation; you’d argue it makes it even worse, for you don’t think you can keep going for any longer, and he’s the one pushing forward with such force. You never enjoyed the difference in power you two have. You should’ve never said yes to him in the first place.

And it’s drowning you, because it’s not even his fault. He’s done nothing wrong, but you can’t help but want to stay away, want to hide and run whenever the topic of a wedding is brought to your attention, because it’s not what you desire, even though it’s what you should want, after so many years by his side.

Mark’s voice echoes in your brain, his damn argument never leaving the walls of your head. You want to silence it, but you’re never strong enough.

It’s never too late to back away. But how could you do that to him? You shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t, and that’s why you’ll never do so, no matter how scared and panicked you feel. 

You shouldn’t, because you loved him.

ONE UNREQUITED BELIEF

They say that staring into a cup of black coffee won’t make your troubles go away; nor will it make you feel at least a little better about yourself, but nonetheless, you do it on a cloudy, sad afternoon, sitting in your kitchen as you hug your knees to your chest. Hearing the steady ticking of the clock on the wall, you wonder why you can’t make the time stop– why you can’t just hide away from your problems for a little while, finding a quiet haven and listening to yourself for just a second, to see what you really need and what you should do.

But you can’t stop the time, even though you sometimes really desire for that to happen, and that leads to your fiancé eventually coming home to find you staring into the cup of now cold, black coffee, the solemn look on your face telling him perhaps more than you would’ve expect, but still not enough to fully understand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking a cautious seat on the chair opposite of yours, not even bothering to put away the groceries he brought with himself on his way from work. Sensing the tense atmosphere, you take a glimpse on his face, and with the sad pools that are his eyes right now, you force yourself to swallow away the guilt and look away. 

“Nothing,” you mourn, your voice weak and almost a little shameful. It makes you feel bad for him– for letting him see you like this, on your worst; but the reality of the knowledge that if you two want to really stay together forever, he has to see you like this until you die– the image of him looking at you with such scared eyes every single time, it sends shivers down your spine. You’d rather crawl out of your own skin than to experience it over and over again, the motion of it destroying you completely until there’s nothing left of you than a broken, empty shell of a human you used to be.

And Jeno, he’d fit in your skin, if he could. He’d crawl inside with you, trying to fix every piece that’s broken, trying to understand the patterns of your veins and the thoughts flowing through your head. But the truth is, that you’ve got some problem, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. And that’s even scarier than anything he’s ever encountered before.

But he’s not stupid. 

“We need to talk about the wedding, right?” he asks, and the reality comes crashing down on you. He knows– he knows, he knows, he knows; he’s aware of the storm on your inside and how the raindrops can’t seem but to wash you completely away, making you drown. And you should’ve expected it, he’s your partner, after all, but you never once in your life could’ve predicted the lost look in his eyes when you finally look up at him from the darkness of your coffee cup and offer him a hushed whisper.

“What about it?” 

Offering you a tired smile, he sighs and nestles deeper into the chair. Brushing his hair out of his face, as if to prepare himself for the tough conversation, he puts his hands on the table and you watch his muscles flex when he moves to crack the knuckles of his palms in nerves, a habit you’ve noticed in him from when you first started dating back in high school.

“You’re unhappy with it,” he proclaims, not even leaving you a second to react with a disapproving ramble that he knows is coming– you always say everything’s fine when it’s not– as he proceeds with his observations, “and I know I might have been too pushy with some of my decisions, and I wasn’t being considerate enough of your opinions, but I promise you that we can change all the parts you don’t like and compromise. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you can’t have a say in it,” he says, and there’s a wallowing pit inside of your stomach, because after all,

he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t see it in your eyes when you tiredly close them to get rid of the exhaustion, he doesn’t understand that this is not the problem, and it’s okay, because he’s not a mind reader, but to your poor, selfish self, it feels like you’ve been wronged, because who can understand you in this, if not your own fiancé, the love of your life?

“It’s okay, Jeno,” you mumble, almost automatically.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

There’s a silence overtaking you two, the clock ticking on the wall driving you insane. You think that if you hear the piercing sound of it ever again, you might just open the kitchen window and jump out of it, but then there’s another sound, and that one makes you crawl out of your skin again, the sound of Jeno's voice making your nails scrape against your own insides as the last remains of you need to stay inside, true to themselves.

“So what’s wrong? What do we work on?” he asks, and the tone of his voice is so considerate, so gentle, it almost brings you to tears.

Because you don’t deserve to be treated like this. 

Because you’re a traitor. That’s what you are, aren’t you?

“Nothing…”

“Do we change the invitations? Is it the venue?” he insists, his eyebrows furrowing with confusion as you don’t offer him any response. The silence is excruciating to him and you can clearly see, but still, it doesn’t lead you to breaking the truth to him, it doesn’t make you say the words that have been slowly dying at the tip of your tongue since the day you got engaged.

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me, we can’t fix it. Can you please talk to me and tell me what it is so we can work on it together?” he asks. 

And it’s killing you. 

Shaking your head, you scowl. This is not the way your script is supposed to play out. You were too careless, let him see inside, but all he saw through the crack was a glimpse of the full thing and now him aimlessly searching with a pointless game of guessing is only making it worse, and you don’t know how longer you can go without bursting apart.

“I told you it’s fine,” you insist, eyes closed as you plop your head against your palm, resting your elbow on the hard surface of your kitchen table. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, but the impact of your words still feel like arrows with a straight goal to Jeno’s poor heart.

Another sigh leaves the man. Reaching gently for your wrist, he tries to pry your hands away from your face, but you stay put as he asks you over and over again. “If you really want to have a smaller wedding, I’ll cut down the guests. I’ll do it for you, if you want me to,” he says, and you don’t know why him fully letting go of what he wants is what makes you break– maybe it’s the fact that now that the wedding won’t be exactly to the point like his ideal, leaving the whole thing a whole fraud, an act you’re playing just to satisfy him and the others– but you do, as you cut him off with another hesitant, yet firm sentence.

“Maybe we can lower the guests… to zero.”

A heartbeat passes, and then another one. You think he can’t quite grasp the full meaning of your words, and you’re right as he opens his mouth and inquires for an explanation, his heart hammering against his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we don’t need a wedding.”

His expression falls more, if that’s even possible, his eyes losing all their glint as he stares at you, dumbfounded. Snickering, he shakes his head. “You’re joking.”

Wetting your lips, averting your gaze from him and taking a glimpse outside of the window– the snow falling for the first time this winter making the whole situation even more idyllic, pushing you further with your final decision– you sigh and shrug, the argument already started and there’s no going back now, so you aren’t even scared of the idea of backing away anymore. 

“I don’t want to get married.”

And in this moment, you almost feel like the clock got broken and the ticking stopped, or the world stopped spinning and the time halted in that exact second– either one of these, as your heart beats angrily against your ribcage, the sound of it in the veins of your ears making you drown out everything else. Lee Jeno is staring at you with eyes that slowly lose all their life, his expression growing more and more full of despair, and the image tears you apart, the little you inside wanting to break free at the sight of him completely crumbling under the impact of your words, and suddenly, you don’t know what to do as you stare him down and await his response. You don’t know how he’ll react. He could scream, he could shout– hell, he could even cry or leave you in silence, the closure never coming as you wait for him at that damned kitchen table forever. But Lee Jeno’s always been a man of words, and so, he doesn’t leave you hanging for long as he scoffs again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re joking, right?”

But when the silence is his answer, he already knows he doesn’t have to keep asking.

“So you’ve just been… what? Leading me on for the last few months?” he asks, the bitterness falling off his tongue making your hands tremble, lips parting as you want to hurriedly assure him that your feelings were real, they were real until suddenly, they weren’t, and now you don’t even know where they stand and what to do with them and the confusion on your insides.

“This is unbelievable…” he says, running his hands through his hair as he stands up from the chair he’s been sitting on for the last few minutes, walking across and back through the kitchen a few times before he continues, “all those months… You’ve been just lying straight to my face? What did I even do? Why- why do you- why do you suddenly not want to-?” he rambles, and his voice slowly starts to break as you can’t seem to push any other answer out of yourself, all words stolen from your tongue as you stare at him, just waiting until the moment is over and you can let your body relax.

And it’s not his fault. It never was, but suddenly, you’re too weak to tell him, too selfish to give him the answers, too small to be the bigger person and tell him that it’s you, it’s always been you and none of this is a problem he’s created.

“Why did you say yes, then? If you never wanted to get married?” he asks, halting in his steps as he looks dead at you, waiting for your answer.

You should’ve never said yes to him. But you did. And why?

Because you were scared of this exact moment happening sooner? Maybe it would’ve hurt him less if you declined right when he asked. Maybe it could’ve been saved. But now, you’re sure you made more damage than can be fixed.

“Great. Don’t talk to me. Amazing,” he snickers, closing his eyes tightly as a stray tear comes down his cheek, the one you try hard to not notice in fear of breaking down as well, because truthfully–

now is not your time to feel bad or feel sorry. It’s not your time to cry and make it about yourself, because it’s you who messed up. It’s you who made all of this mess.

Looking at you again, and this time, it feels like the last, the question falling off his lips makes you completely shut down and build up walls around yourself, for the weight of the guilt is too heavy and you can’t seem to carry it well this time.

“Do you even love me anymore?” he asks.

Tears falling off your cheeks, your lips pressed into a thin line as you look somewhere into the unknown– anywhere but his eyes– you give him the silent answer again, and that’s enough for him to nod at you with a choked-out ‘okay’ before he disappears out of the door, the rambling through your closet being a background noise to your crying.

And relief doesn’t come even when the door shuts behind him and you don’t get up and try to stop him from leaving and the clock starts ticking in your ears again, grounding you back to reality; relief doesn’t come even when you let your sobs overtake you and your eyes tiredly fall from your coffee cup to the groceries left on the kitchen table.

Staring outside of your window, you can’t seem to find energy to even make any sound, your sore throat reminding you to take a step back and take care of yourself, just like you did mere seconds ago, finally breaking free.

On December 2nd, when the snow fell for the first time this year, you broke Lee Jeno’s heart, and you don’t think you’ll ever forgive yourself.

You decide a walk is surely gonna clear your head– at least that’s what you decide to think when you put on your winter shoes and get out of your small, silent apartment with a loud sigh, the meeting point of your errand today brightly lit in your mind as you leave the car in the parking lot and shudder in the cold. 

The walk doesn’t clear your head, it makes you even more lost in your thoughts, it seems, but there’s no turning back when you’re already halfway there and you’re too lazy to get back and turn the engine of your little old car on, driving there instead. It seems like the consequences of your own actions leave you more miserable than content lately, and although you’re doing all of this for yourself, you feel like you’re unknowingly engaging in some sort of self-sabotage, and the fact that your body is frozen in the strong wind is only the tip of the iceberg of this topic.

After some time, you arrive, your nose runny from the condensation when you reach the heated interiors of the building, clearing your throat as you walk through the door of Mark Lee’s office, just like you would any other day, more often than not with your fiancé, sometimes alone. The man is currently waiting for you at his desk, his silly little journal open on the pages you know so well by now, the image hurting you to your core. 

“Y/N!” he greets you, confusion mirroring on his face when he notices you being alone, since this meeting was scheduled precisely on Jeno’s day off, so both of you could attend, “why are you alone?”

Not giving him a reply, instead walking over to the chair and settling deeper into the cushion, preparing yourself to break the news to him, the curious nature of the man shines through as he asks you hushed questions, a tiny hint of bitterness in his voice unknown to you.

“Does he have work again? Did he cancel?” he asks, prepared to give out an over-exaggerated sigh if you tell him that he’s right about his assumptions, but when you just chew on your cheek and avert your gaze away from him, and instead look everywhere across the pearl white room, he senses that there’s something wrong.

“Yeah, about that…” you mumble, shrugging. 

It’s now or never, you think to yourself– you went here for a reason unknown to you. Maybe you seeked comfort in the man that pushed you towards your decision, maybe you desire for someone to tell you that what you did was okay and the right thing to do. You could’ve just texted him you weren’t going to plan the wedding anymore, since there is none to happen, but you didn’t– you went here yourself, just to break the news to him face to face, expecting nothing and everything at once. It’s weird. Maybe you just, true to your fragile nature, need someone to look out for you when you feel so insanely guilty for doing something for yourself. Why that person is Mark Lee, you don’t know. Perhaps there is something that is pulling you to him, the comforting nature surrounding him being your safe haven in a time like this, making you so selfishly wish that after hearing you say it, he won’t let you down and look at you with defeat and disappointment.

“I- I called off the wedding,” you say, finally meeting his chocolate orbs with expectations, “and we sorta broke up, so I just- I just wanted to tell you that I won’t need your service anymore, but that I’m really thankful,” you add, nodding to prove your point.

The man in front of you is left startled, eyes wide as he searches for a hint of something– anything– on your face that would tell him if you’re okay and what led you to the decision, opening his mouth to talk to you about it, when you cut him off and add another thing, a sentence that breaks him and glues him together in one swift motion, leaving him speechless.

“Thank you for telling me that it was okay… to do that. And that it wasn’t late to call it off. It means the whole entire world to me, Mark, and I’ll never forget that,” you say, smiling hesitantly at the wedding planner, playing with your fingers in your lap, “I felt like I couldn’t make this decision, even though the idea of getting married to Jeno was breaking me, but your words really assured me.”

“That’s-” he stutters, clearly shocked. It’s not like he didn’t know– once again, he advised you to do so himself– but still, the reality of it is making him bewildered, true surprise raining over his face as he shakes his head to clear it, providing you with a more coherent response, “I’m- I’m glad you were able to do that. It’s- it’s so great you broke away from something you didn’t want for yourself, Y/N.”

Smiling, although a little shamefully, you avert your gaze from his intense eyes. “Thank you.”

“No, no, don’t thank me, I mean-” he rambles, his professional composure breaking for what feels like the first time, his figure looking so approachable right in this moment, “are you okay, though? It must have been hard.”

Shrugging, you wet your lips in a moment of thought. Are you okay? You’re not so sure. So instead of worrying him, you just mumble: “I will be,” with a soft nod, reassuring both yourself and everyone involved. Because, in reality, even though it’s insanely hard and the moments without your fiancé feel foreign, you feel free. You feel true to yourself, and that’s the most important thing about it all. And as long as that is preserved, you will be okay one day.

Maybe your and Jeno’s ways parted just because your ideals were different. Maybe the difference between the two was so big you couldn’t get over the height; but that’s okay. Life happened this way, and there’s not much to do about it now. Only to get used to it.

“Okay,” he says, gazing at you.

You’d like to stay longer– the truth is, this is the first time in the last few weeks that you’ve felt relaxed, content, even– and it’s hard to let go of this feeling. Mark looks at you with soft eyes, as if he was scared that a more strong look may break you, and in a moment of selfishness, you think that although this chapter of your life is over, Mark is the one you don’t want to lose out of it. You wonder if he feels the same. You want him to feel the same.

But once the moment is over and you realize your stay no longer has a meaning to it, probably just wasting Mark’s time, you nod to yourself as you stand up from your place in the chair, paying goodbye to the place you’re most likely never going to visit again. “I’ll get going, then. Once again, thanks… for everything, Mark.” 

The man shoots to his feet, hesitantly walking over to you, meeting your expecting eyes. Clearing his throat, he reaches to you with wide arms, and your body moves into his hold almost automatically, selfishness hoarding over you once again as he hugs you tight into his body, perhaps with the same amount of bittersweet feeling you feel on the inside right now, the firm grip around your waist making you relax into his touch. Burrowing your nose into his neck, you forget all about Jeno for a while, the scent of Mark’s cologne overtaking your senses, everything, past and future involved, disappearing when the noisy thought in your brain keeps rambling how you need to remember the way his arms feel around your body forever, you have to imprint his scent into your brain until the end of your time, because this is your last opportunity you have to experience it. 

“I’m very proud of you,” he mumbles, one of his hands running over your back and up into your hair, a protective head pat mendling your fragile, broken body into his touch. 

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though,” he says.

“It doesn’t- it doesn’t feel appropriate.”

And Mark understands. It feels like he’s the only one that does. And although it may feel like there’s no one but him in this world that’s on your side right now, the reality of it comforts you, because that’s enough.

Breaking away from his hold, you pay him a goodbye as you walk towards the door, not turning around as you escape the room, because you think the image of him, knowing it’s the last time you’ll see him, would break you perhaps the most.

Your journey isn’t over, though. Walking through the countless labyrinths of the town, the weather outside making your bones cold as you stride for your next destination with utter determination, you know that once you complete this task, it’s finally over. The weight of it crushes you, but you know that in a few, you’ll feel completely free, and that’s why you keep going, despite it being insanely hard.

Your eyes are met with the view of a house you know too well; the windowsills greet you with a glassy shine, the sad trees in the backyard reminding you of your university days. You’re met with Lee Jeno’s childhood home, and by the looks of his car in the driveway, you were correct about the suspicions of his whereabouts. He had nowhere else to go, after all, and although you feel a little shameful about the fact, you don’t let it get to you.

Walking over to the small gate of the land of Jeno’s parents’ house, a red post box greets you, your final destination in reach. Rummaging through your purse, you take out a white envelope containing your engagement ring, and while opening the small box, you pay goodbye to the latest chapter of your life, putting the envelope in. 

Taking one last look at the house, you imagine Jeno on the driveway, and you wave at his figure with an apology on your tongue. 

Maybe one day, he’ll understand you. And maybe he won’t.

You can’t be mad at him for the emotions he has every right to feel. You acknowledge that you were wrong for leading him on for so long. But still, you hope that one day, he’ll be able to forgive you. 

And as if your fate wanted you to have the last bit of karma you’ve earned, it starts raining as you walk home. On any other day, you’d despite the shower, but today, you think you can get through it. You think this is your prize, and you’ll keep paying it forever, until you no longer feel the guilt of everything you’ve done.

Putting yourself first breaks hearts sometimes. But still, you think it’s worth it in the end.

Maybe one day, you’ll forgive yourself.

When your body hits the cold sheets of the bed that isn’t yours, stumbling to your designated side of the mattress, it seems, you wonder if the heater in his apartment broke again and you’re going to spend another night shivering until the tiredness doesn’t make your thoughts turn off and your eyelids get heavy with sleep. Dressed in your usual pajamas and staring out of the window, watching the stars shyly glimmer, the moon kisses your cheeks in a solemn feeling of a weird nostalgia you can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard you try. The feeling, however, is no longer as uncomfy as it was the last time. It used to make your bones itch, it used to make you try to battle the feeling, even though there was no use– it’s always been too strong and you were too weak; too tired to keep fighting.

A huff lands into your ear, a muffled sigh that makes you slightly open your eyes and still in your movements. He joined the bed just a few minutes prior to you, telling you he’ll wait for you to be done with your shower, but it seems like he fell asleep in the short time period, making you feel momentarily bad for waking him. 

A strong arm slings itself over your middle, engulfing you in a tight back-hug. His body grows closer to you, shuffling himself to stick himself as close to your body as possible, a heavy breath reaches your ear. Your hand automatically reaches for his one laying on your stomach, looking over at him to see his eyes flutter open and a soft smile glazing his features. “Ready for sleep?” he asks, and with a gentle nod, you watch him get more comfy in the sheets of his bed.

Continuing to watch him, his eyes close on themselves after a short while, his eyelashes kiss his cheekbones, sharp edges of his face contrasting with his overall soft demeanor making your heart swell with the thankfulness you feel because of his proximity. 

Looking back over to the window, eyes briefly catching the time glimmering on the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table, you bite down on your lips and try to battle the smile that’s dangerously trying to spread across your face. His body pressing itself into your back is warm, trying hard to provide you with a sense of home and safety. This time around, it works. It always works out with him.

A sigh cuts out of your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks, and it makes you snicker. You’ve never felt more content and satisfied in your whole entire life, yet, he dares to ask you this question, still uncertain. Nodding, you reply to him, sureness coating your words.

“More than okay.”

Your body slowly heats up in his hold– he’s like your portable heater, after all, since he likes his bedroom to be a little colder than you prefer, he took it upon himself to always have you glued inside of his arms whenever you sleep over at his place; to not let you catch cold, he says, but you secretly just think he loves to fall asleep with you in his hold.

Just a little over a year ago, with a different man in your sheets, you weren’t able to fall asleep with the weight of your overthinking. You rethought your decision over and over again, not ready to leave yourself to get a final conclusion, even though it was always somewhere there, in the back of your brain.

Now, though, your brain is at ease, relaxing after running laps through various scenarios in your brain– your body is soundly tucked in under the soft sheets of the bed, finding a sweet haven in a person you never imagined you’d let into your life. 

You no longer wake up in guilt and fear. You no longer startle awake at night, too scared to look at your fiancé on the other side of your bed; because the chapter is now behind you, the war is over.

And you learn to forgive yourself. All by Mark’s side. 

If it wasn’t for the actions of your past, you would’ve never met him, after all. Everything in your life has some sort of order, and while it wasn’t a happy journey, at least you’re left with nothing but experience and comfort in your heart.

Almost like every day, much to the contrast of your state a little over a year ago, you reach out for Mark’s hand again, pressing a soft kiss to it as you move it closer to your lips. Almost like every day, while you fall asleep to the scent of his shower gel and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sweet dreams, you’re thankful for every day with him, 

because he was the one that brought you peace again, taking care of you each and every day, carefully catching your heart when you let it fall freely into the unknown.

[writteninkat]

Heyy🐻 I usually ask for NSFW but this is crack with a little ✨nasty and fluff✨ um- any of the MHA/BNHA boys reacting to the reader gagging on the toothbrush....idk I just want a bit of fluff

you can do whatever with this just have fun with it☺

remember to drink water and eat daily🥰

BNHA GUYS REACTING TO YOU GAGGING ON YOUR TOOTHBRUSH

w/ Katsuki, Tenya, Kirishima, Denki

a/n: hi ilysm u're always so freaking sweet sendin' mwa requests 🥺 hope u stay healthy always luv <3 also this'll be a bit shorter than my usual hc's since i can't rlly think of a plot for this to follow idkidk

genre: fluff, suggestive themes, some crack lmao

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

it's early in the mornin', you're half asleep, you remember the layout of your shared apartment so good that you can walk to rooms with your eyes closed

katsuki is already there brushing his teeth and as soon as you step inside, he hands you your tooth brush and puts the toothpaste on the brush for you

your mistake: you yawn while putting the toothbrush in your mouth and you totally miscalculate how deep you've pushed it in your mouth

it hits the back of your throat without any warning at all and of course, you choke

"tch, be careful, dumbass. it'd be idiotic if you died from a toothbrush"

yeah the sudden hitting your back and almost choking to de*th (im joking can yall tell? 😐) part definitely woke you up

TENYA IIDA

the second you step inside your shared bathroom, still yawning and your hair all over the place, Tenya is smiling at how adorable you are

he loves mornings cause he gets to see you in this state- not in your prim & proper pro hero costume but instead just... you.

as he daydreams about how inlove he is with a Y/n who has dried saliva in the side of her mouth and eye boogies in her eyes and her hair a bird's nest, it's immediately broken when he hears you gag

you're dropping your toothbrush on the sink and coughing for dear life as your husband rubs and pats your back, telling you to "breathe, Y/n, breathe!"

when you assure to him you're okay, he goes on to lecture you about...how dangerous it is if you don't hold your tooth brush properly???

"tenya I don't need this right now, I almost d!ed!" you pouted to which your husband rolls his eyes at. "You can't die from choking on a toothbrush!"

you take your brush and point it at him, "Wanna test that theory now?"

God he fucking loves you so much

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

you reach up to him for his third morning kiss of the day before you walk over to your side of the bathroom sink

as you're brushing your teeth, you start to doze back in sleep land, your hand moving on its own as your head slowly droops forward

no, your red haired husband doesn't notice this cause he's too busy flossing and you know what happens next? you know what happens next.

yes you choke. on your toothbrush. what a fucking idiot.

and instead of asking if you're alright as you're coughing out the foam from the toothpaste, Eijiro is laughing his ass off like it's hilarious watching you suffer

he's slapping his thigh, laughing loudly until you finally calm down

you glare at him

"what?" he asks

"what?" you copy him, "dude I almost d worded! couldn't you help me by like rubbing my back or something?"

"it was funny!" you narrow your eyes at him, "like how bad do you have to be to fuck up brushing your teeth?"

"Eijiro I give you five to run."

"Five what? minutes? hours?"

"four, three, two-"

"ahh, fuck."

DENKI KAMINARI

little shit makes fun of you for walking with a limp from last night's activities

"need a wheelchair there hon? ah wait- it probably hurts more if you sit, doesn't it?" he pouts, faking sympathy as you simply glare at him

you take your toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste on the bristles

"hey, hey hon, I go in hard but come out soft and I don't mind if you blow me. What am I?" he smirks, poking your side with his elbow.

"I swear to god Denki if it's-"

"I'm a chewing gum!" He smiles ever so innocently which only makes you glare at him even more

"what's long, and hard, and has cum in it?"

at this point you're just ignoring your idiot of a husband

"cucumber!"

still ignoring.

"hon hon hon, what's hairy on the outside but soft and wet in the inside, and whose word starts with 'c' and ends with 't'?"

still ignoring him

"coconut!"

your thin string of patience snaps and you move to hit him on his arm but push your toothbrush in even deeper instead, making you choke

"mmhmm, that's exactly what you said last night."

oh my god you're gonna k word him 🙂

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Dream smut or fluff where reader and him are high key mean to eachotjer despite having so many mutual friends, but then something (very vague i know I’m sorry) makes them have to get close and the develop feelings? Sorry I’m shit at requests but thank you!!!

i know this is shitty im sorry akjsdh bls forgive me

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: dream being a dick, slight slut shaming, toxic behavior, vulgar/suggestive mentions and language, sexual harassment on a bus (not by dream, you can breathe)

⋆ song recommendation: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron

You pulled a blanket beneath your chin, yawning slightly at whatever the tv was playing. You only had it on in an attempt to drown out the noises coming from your roommate's bedroom as she smoozed her date. You were honestly shocked the two hadn’t moved in together yet with all the time they spent wrapped up.

Her door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you sprawled out on the couch. He marched toward you quietly, hovering over your shoulder. You peered up at her hesitantly. “What are you watching?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to speak but she hurriedly cut you off. “Do you mind watching it at Nick’s instead?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kicking me out again?” She gave you an apologetic smile, making you roll your eyes as you stood up and pulled on your jacket. “This would hurt less if they also paid rent,” you mumbled, with a small glare.

She thanked you repeatedly, holding onto your arm as you gathered what little belongings you needed for the night. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she courted, opening the door for you. “Tomorrow, dinner’s on me okay?” You sent her a tired look and she apologized again. She stopped you as you stepped out into the cold night, leaning through the space between the door and the frame. “Maybe you can cozy up to that Clay guy? You guys have such a good vibe,” she mocked, making you chuckle lightly.

You shook your head, waving to her. “Enjoy your night. Please, for the love of God, clean the bathroom afterward,” you called, hearing her laugh at your statement.

The bus ride was quiet due to the time of night and the weather, both of which you didn’t mind. You knew Nick’s house would be warm and loud. Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of his apartment door, kicking at the concrete ground as you heard someone stumbling to let you inside. The door opened swiftly, Clay’s large frame blocking the light from the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe mockingly as he looked at you.

He wet his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy tonight?” He joshed.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past his body to get out of the cold. “Whoever’s dick you’re not sucking, I guess,” you quipped back, making him laugh darkly. You kicked off your shoes as he shut the door. “Where’s Sapnap?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket. You’d texted him ahead of time to ask if you could stay over, which he readily agreed to.

Clay sent you a smug look. “You guys have a fun night planned?” He made a gesture with his hand to insinuate you were there to give Nick a handjob.

You bit back a chuckle. “Why? You wanna join?” You shot back. He bit his lip and moaned pornographically.

“Cut it out, Dream,” Nick grumbled as he walked into the room. He pulled on your arm to follow him.

Dream scoffed exasperatedly. “Me? I’m not the one who started it!” He called after the two of you.

As Nick pushed you out of the room, you turned your head. “You most certainly did!” You answered. You heard him chuckle at your words as Nick shut the door to his room. You plopped down on his bed as he sat in his chair, swiveling to look at you. “Why does Dream pick at me so much?” You mumbled, fishing in your pockets for your phone.

“He’s jealous,” Nick answered absent-mindedly. “What's the date look like tonight?” He asked, referring to the reason you were there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time or the last time your roommate had kicked you out. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence for you to end up on Nick’s couch or at their place in the middle of the day with your toothbrush and a change of clothes.

You moved to lean into his pillows. “I don’t know, it's the same granola fucker she’s been hanging around,” you answered.

He rubbed his chin with a slight smirk. “There’s a subtle justice to knowing she’s still with that asshat,” he commented, making you snort.

A week later, you were on your way back to your apartment after a lecture when someone felt you up. It was the straw on the camel’s back for you as you spin around to smack the guy, stirring up a few of the bystanders. You’d walked the rest of the way home, stepping through the door to be met with your roommate and her hookup twisted together in the kitchen.

You clamped your hand over your eyes, mumbling about how you just wanted to take a nap when you were once again sent to Nick’s. You let subtle tears fall as you trudged your way across the city, hoping to get out whatever darkness you had to your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was confront Clay looking like you did. He was like the troll with the keys to the bridge. That was really the only reason the two of you ever talked, so you knew he’d be waiting to berate you before you could get to Nick.

As you walked into the building, you spotted Clay carrying a large box, his hair slightly disheveled and his hands dirty. You knew almost instantly that he was probably attempting to fix the kitchen sink and got a call because of the size of the package. That sink had been dripping since they’d moved in, making it Clay’s mission to futz around with it every Friday afternoon. You tried helping him one time, only ending up with a deflated sense of confidence and the second wave of your childhood anger issues.

He nodded at you as you held the elevator door open for him. “What’s up, babycakes?” He chirped, popping his gum. When you hesitated to answer, he looked at you fully, scoffing. “Damn, walk of shame gone sour?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm your nerves. “I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

He snorted, setting the box down between his feet. “You’re always in the mood! Isn’t that like your thing,” he continued to jeer. “You look like you had a fun night though-”

“Clay, stop. I’m serious,” barked at him. His expression twisting at your use of his name.

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry, I thought we had---like a bit thing, um-” he cut himself off, awkwardly shoving his fists in his pockets. After a beat of silence between the two of you, the elevator came to a sharp halt on the wrong floor, the light switching to red. The two of you shared a look, knowing that the landlord was probably flipping the wrong switches again. Clay texted Nick to see what was going on.

It began to grow colder in the elevator, as it usually did. When it was off, the cold from outside usually seeped in through the elevator shaft. There was one time you were stuck in the elevator for a few hours with one of your neighbors and Karl when he had come to visit. Back then, the three of you played Uno on the guy’s phone. It was also summer, so the chill creeping up your legs wasn’t as intolerable as it was now.

You rubbed the arms of your sweater in hopes of generating some kind of warmth. Clay watched you carefully, his hands moving to grip the bar behind him. “Do you want my sweatshirt?” He offered. You shook your head, sliding onto the ground and hugging your knees to your chest. He hesitantly slumped down beside you, kicking his long legs out towards the door. The red light filling the space made his features look softer.

He nudged your arm gently with his own. “I know I’m not Sapnap, but…” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging slightly, “I mean, we’re stuck in here. We can talk about it.”

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill once again, your eyes burning and tired. “I haven’t slept with him, you know?” You stated, turning to look at him briefly before moving to sit cross-legged, planning with your fingers. “I’ve never even kissed him. I’ve never kissed anyone,” you scoffed. Clay was silent, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you intently.

Being this close to him, you could smell the smoky vanilla undertones of his cologne. The scent reminded you of a masculine version of the candle your aunt always burned when she went out for a night to spite her ex-husband.

Clay leaned his head back against the wood paneling, his soft blond hair flattening in the back to spread against the wall. You swallowed, sighing slightly. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I’m getting groped on the bus and kicked out of my damn apartment because my roommate and her fucking boyfriend have to hook up on every surface. Nothing is sacred.” You shook your head, wiping away some stray tears with the back of your hand and sniffling pathetically. “You can keep making slut jokes, I don’t care. But I swear to God, I haven’t done anything with Sapnap. Or Karl, or Quackity. No one.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. That’s why I used to make those jokes,” he mumbled. “It was like… ironic humor. And then it got so far that the only way I knew you’d talk back to me was if I was fucking around with you,” he admitted. You chuckled slightly at his words, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Dream,” you sighed. “I would have hooked up with you if you weren’t such an ass,” you chided. His laugh made you feel better. He held his hand out to you, more for support than anything, but as you laced your fingers with his, your heart eased, feeling safe beside him.

After a beat of silence, he spoke up again. "I can ride the bus with you now... if you want..." He offered, a shyness that seemed so foreign to his character shown through his eyes. "I promise I won't grope you," he joshed, making you roll your eyes.

"That's really not something we should be joking about," you mumbled, wiping away the rest of your tears on your sleeve.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand soothingly. "I mask my awkwardness around you in dark humor. I'm sorry."

[seriesxwriting]

I’m gonna end up in prison anyway.

JJ maybank x you! <3

JJ is upset about jhon B being in prison and takes it out on you… but JJ soon realises he’s in the wrong and apologises confessing his love for you at the same time <3.

Warnings- kissing and swearing. I think that’s it.

Also just wanna say that I know all my writing has been outer banks characters but more characters are coming soon I promise. I’m just obsessed with this show at the moment :)

“JJ your an idiot!” I yelled at him once he’d climbed in to the speeding car explaining what he had tried to do. “well I’m going to end up in jail anyway so who fucking cares” JJ ran his fingers through his blonde hair avoiding eye contact with me sitting tight in the seat next to him.

“I fucking care JJ” I mimicked him in a calmer tone.

He looked at me still panting from the run “you alright?” Pope eyed his best in the mirror from the front seat. “Just a shit day” he inhaled and exhaled loudly turning his whole body away from me and staring out the window.

What the fuck was he thinking trying to bust jhon B out with that plan! We needed to prove his innocents not go on the run again.

Ki drove us back to where we were staying in silence. Her and pope went off in to the night talking about some random stuff, giggling some might say flirting. “y/n” he called out when I was walking away from the car minding my own business “what”.

JJ came around to my side climbing out of the white suit he was dressed in tying it around his torso.

“You still mad?”

“I’m not even mad JJ I’m -just worried” I stuttered trying to think of the right words so I would give him any clues to how I really felt about the boy.

“John B is in prison! I needed to do something It’s him you should be worried about” “I am! But I’m worried about you as well your acting like an idiot your not going to prison JJ so stop blaming all your shit on that, it’s not down to you we’re all doing everything we can to free him but your choices there down to you! So watch them”

“None of you are doing anything” he scoffed, I went closer to take his hand in mine. “why do you think your going to prison?” I whispered looking up at his beautiful eyes holding his hand in to my stomach.

“Because I am! Im going to end up in prison anyway so what’s the point” he shouted pulling away from me looking up at the sky with the roll of his eyes.

“well I’m not gonna let you!”

“You can’t do anything about it y/n were all fucked! ki just got kicked out of her parents house Pope hasn’t been home for days! My dad is a dick head- so is Sara’s and you, I don’t even know what your doing here you could go back home to you warm fluffy bed any time you wanted… John B is already in prison it’s just a matter of time before we’re ALL in there too” he shouted at me with tears in his eyes.

I wanted to hug him because he was in pain but he’d hurt me.

“FUCK YOU! I’m a pogue”

“are you? Do you want to be in prison with us” JJ asked me calmly with a hint of a smile.

I pushed him on the chest and he stumbled back a bit looking at my face knowing he’d hurt me.

“your upset …about John B I know, but you don’t have to be such an asshole! If you wanna fuck your life up and go prison be my guest JJ… but you won’t see the others in there, don’t say I didn’t try to help you because that’s all I’ve EVER tried to do” I shouted with a tear sliding out my dolled up eyes. Side looking him before turning my back with attitude and leaving JJ stood there. Alone.

I couldn’t believe I was actually in love with that ass, he’d never spoken to me like that how I knew he was just hurt.

But I wasn’t going to take that it’s not acceptable, no one should be spoke to like that and if he wanted me to forgive him he was gonna have to work for it. I went to sleep soon after that, on the beat up sofa with scrappy blankets feeling empty inside, though I didn’t get much sleep overall.

I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, playing back the conversation in my head overthinking it. finally getting to sleep around five am.

“Don’t tell me how to wax my bored!” Is what I woke up to.

My head was clanging from lack of sleep and the sun glaring down at me through the dusty window.

“Boys, SHUT UP” I sailed out to them, not being in the mood to be awake yet “sorry y/n! JJ is just being an idiot”

“what else is new?” I wondered to pope coming out into the straight heat blocking the sun with my hand.

Kiara and pope laugh at me while JJ stood there looking guilty underneath his sunglasses. His face showed that he regretted what happened last night but I really wasn’t interested at the moment. He’d pissed me off.

“Don’t you think he’s using to much wax?” Pope pointed at the bored in JJ’s hands.

“don’t tell me how to wax my bored! Jeez”

JJ lifted up his sparkling sunglasses up on to his head in anger at pope.

“I’m just saying…” “guys seriously stop it!” Kiara looked up giving them daggers clearly getting annoyed. “Remember when y/n suggested you shut up, listen to it!”

“wait shhh.. do you hear that?” JJ rotated his head and eyes away from me peering in to the distance of the road “is that…” I trailed off listening out. Jhon b swerved around the corner in his van with a huge smile on his face. The feeling in the air changed immediately.

“JHON B?!” Kiara jumped over the sofa throwing her magazine on the floor running towards him excitedly flopping in to his arms

The boys followed jumping in to a happy group hug I didn’t Wanna disturb. Though it did put a smile on my face.

“what the hell bro?” JJ slapped John B on the back with a beautiful smile fixed on his face. It was nice to see him genuinely smile.

“They let me go” he smiled shrugging while everyone took a step back.

“Come here” jhon B laughed putting his arms out to me, I’d stayed in the dorm frame the whole time just watching. I bounced over and we met in the middle hugging tightly. “Ugh it’s so good to have you back” I whispered softly

“but they just let you go?” Pope questioned confused.

“Sure did- charges were dropped, wheres Sarah?” He looked around and then at me.

“She didn’t come back last night” JJ sighed so I didn’t have to answer “she went to meet wheezie and didn’t come back” he explained again in more detail when John B looked at me for answers again.

Suddenly out the corner off our eyes we saw a speedboat heading to us, with topper and Sara. The confused ,but happy to be reunited, pogues all ran towards it but gently my wrist was grabbed. Stopping me from following.

“can I talk to you?” JJ asked with a sad soft face pointed to the floor,

“maybe if you actually look me in the eyes for once” I told him while folding my arms defensively so I’d get out of his grasp.

“I’m- sorry I’m so sorry y/n, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that you didn’t deserve to hear that, it came from a place of anger and worry and sadness it wasn’t meant for you”

“That’s what I said to you JJ, I also said I was here for you but you can’t push me away like that” I attacked him with guilt “I know that…” “but theres a reason” JJ fixed his top setting it straight and looked dead into my eye.

This time he took my hand…myy heart beat quickened as I grew more nervous thinking about all the possible things he could say.

“Uh… okay, I really like you..y/n” JJ confessed with a smirk.

“W-what?” My words didn’t know how to come out and my body insisted on making me look like an idiot. I forgot got how to control my body, my mouth was open in shock with What the boy had just said.

“me?”

“Yes, you” JJ’s laughed filled my ears flicking his blonde hair out his eyes . “I said all that’s shit to you yesterday because I know I’ll never be good enough for you… and that hurts so I fucked things up.. but I don’t wanna fuck this up”

“You didn’t fuck anything up, I like you too” I told him softly snaking my hands up to his face holding it so he was looking at me. It was all such a rush.

“but you need to work on your eye contact because you have such pretty eyes” I smiled against his soft lips before kissing him.

Our tongues entered each others mouths and my hand held on to his blonde hair for support. We both pulled away out of breath and burning with the excitement of young love. leaning out foreheads on each other’s.

“Fucking hell y/n, I’d thought out every possibility about how this would go but none of them where like that” he breathed quietly, giggling holding my waist and bringing me closer to his body.

“I promise I won’t ever shout at you again”

“I can deal with the shouting JJ ,it’s the part where you put your self down! That hurts me because I believe in you”.

He looked taken back, “no one- has ever spoke to me like you have” he whispered in realisation, “well then you better fucking listen to what I have to say huh” I raised my eye brow chewing on my bottom lip

JJ nodded his head grinning down before pulling me in to a hug.

“thank you” he whispered in my ear. “For what?” I looked at him funny “for not giving up on me” “no I like you too much” I shrugged looking at the floor to distract my smile.

“I promise I won’t ever give up on you” I told him seriously.

JJ beamed and leant in for another kiss warming my heart and securing me in his strong arms.

[qingxintea]

heartbreak avenue (3) || albedo x reader

heartbreak avenue (1) heartbreak avenue (2) -- tell me how, do you do this thing called living? when theres nothing more to gain. gn reader -- ignore the link below idk how tf to hyperlink on mobile but that’s ur part 4 ig

damn. imagine missing mond so much that you visit just for the vibes and accidentally become a one time vigilante for dominating over a couple abyss mages

how oddly specific!

you moment.

TO BE FAIR, you didn't mean to and also ur just strong with that 245% crit damage ugh yeah yeah get it ig

it was night time, like, idk 1am and you were in this cloak because idk look swaggy and comfortable

abyss mage went ŏ̸̡̡̹̘͉̫̬̬̭̘̙̝͐͒̆̈́̒̿̄́͠͝ǒ̸̧̺͕̣̬̝̱͈̭̭̻̮̈̏̔͆̑̀̍ǫ̵̡̜̲̭̠̤̰̹͍̣͎̤̈́̓̍͠ḩ̴̡͍̣̹̯̭̩̮̣̩̭́̔̀̍͊̂͒́̆͘͜͝͝ȃ̷̧̡̢̡̨̛̪͓̤̜͕̳̦̼͊̏̃͆̓̈́̈́̽̈́͌͐̋̚ͅh̸̡̩͍̟͕̥͚̰̰̟̮̖̪̉̈́͛͂̍̾a̸̧̢͕̙̞̳̩͈̲͉͕̒̆̎̐̎̍̀͊͘̚͝h̸̡̼͓̝͕̫̤̰̱̬̣̗͚̙̀͜ and you were like "lmao shut up"

and like it did! because you made it shut up and also mans diluc was watching in his dark knight hero thingy

of course you noticed his presence from the beginning, you just wanted to piss him off and act like he wasn't there at all

you walked. straight past him like he was actually on the bridge in the middle and you just w al ked .

i mean ofc he gonna say something. and he did. dude said "who r u"

stared at him directly in the eye and said "the embryo made of chewed bubblegum."

he stared. sh o ck ed . what were you even saying

"jk im a resident of mondstadt, visiting from my liyue trip."

"and how do i know you arent lying?"

you sighed and grabbed your dendro vision, letting him look at the frame. "its incased in a mondstadt styled frame." after a few seconds, you put it back. "if that is all, i'll be going."

"k"

"literally fuck off" you responded and walked inside.

sometimes you forget how rude mondstadt people are lmao loser.

ok so like this donna girl really went up to you like "JFKLSJFLKSDJFL NUMBER ??? HELLO ?? UMM THE WAY YOU SAVED MONDSTADT RLKDFFC" and you resisted every urge to flip her off on the spot.

you just stayed and let her talk, smiling through all of it. your hood was still on but it was quite windy s ooo

its been ten minutes. girl please let us go. you were literally begging for anyone to cut in because ur too nice (or unbothered) to tell her to shut up even though you totally went off on diluc aadahahhshdf

and someone did! not the one you expected though.

"good evening donna, and... oh? who would you be?"

ALBEDO LMAO GET STICKBUGGED? ? ? ?? AH a hjfkahfjah . im so funny .

guys i meant that ironically please

anyway

you got even more uncomfortable lmao and you just looked at him and smiled. what do you respond? "no one of importance."

he heard your voice, saw your eyes and it registered. it was you...

or was that what he wanted to believe?

cause this whole time hes been waiting for you, only using experiments as a thing to pass time. it got... a little more lonelier, because nothing could replace you.

he decided to not believe it. because 1) you knew well they welcomed you with open arms, so there would be no need to hide yourself

(which is also proof of how much the whole situation fucked up your thinking)

a second of silence before he continues on the conversation with normal evening meeting stuff things idk

then ur like "ahhshaaajk i must be taking my leave now for matters i will not disclose ahaha skidoosh"

skidoosh

so you go to the big venti statue next to the cathedral and just stand. stare. yikes

no ones out right now and theres nothing to do. but you remember this place because its where the both of yall would eat together whenever he had free time (which wasnt that often, but he still made the effort)

you look up to the sky, counting all the stars like you used to.

no ones gonna know that you're here, you decided on that. you only visited because you simply missed it, but after this, you were going back to liyue.

no ones gonna know. because no one needs to know. no one needs to know that you were here. that would only cause more trouble to the situation you tried to avoid

albedo ends up catching up to you later, still having some spark of hope left that it really was you

i mean lowkey there isnt really anything saying it wasnt. he wanted to believe that he was just overthinking when he thought it really wasnt you

like you look the same. sound the same. its just the reasoning of you coming here, but he can push that aside

"(y/n)."

you flinch but didnt react with anything else. he doesnt need to know that its you.

"(y/n)?"

you turn around to meet his eyes as he was approaching you. slightly distancing yourself another inch away as you were not used to the proximity, you responded, "i'm afraid i'm not the one you're looking for."

albedo stops for a moment, and was about to apologize,, but then

yknow that wind i mentioned earlier? like right after donna started bothering you

yeah that same wind blew ur hood off! lmao L

okay time to get serious !

you stay composed and sighed, your breath visible in the cold air.

so your features are exposed, and its so obviously you, like theres literally no way it cannot be you

"it really is you..." he doesnt understand why youre not admitting to it. "(y/n), please.."

you shake your head and walk away but mans grabs your wrist gently

"(y/n), whats wr-" he starts, but youre quick to respond

"im not (y/n)." you flat out said it and looked right into his eyes. and you swear there were small tears even if he was deemed nonchalant.

he doesnt understand, its your physical features, and your same energy, there is no other person that completely matches it.

he pulls you closer to examine this black smudge on your hand, a small yelp of surprise coming from you.

"this is... ink," he studied the properties of the substance. "you responded to my letter a day ago. (y/n)... i know by now. there's no reason to hide it."

you step away, freeing your hand from his grasp. your voice broke, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "i'm not... i'm not (y/n). i never will be. i'll never be so vulnerable again, i'll never be so naive again, i'll never be so lonely again, i will never ever be anything like they were again."

your vision blurred, but you werent oblivious to the tears streaming down his face as well. reaching to brush them away, you paused and let it drop to his shoulder instead.

"albedo. i... the (y/n) you knew... they're gone now. and if i could revert back to them any time, i would, i swear, but... i'm al-... they..." you buried your head in your hands. "i'm broken. to the point that i refuse to identify as the (y/n) you know me by."

doesnt know what to say, so he almost pulls you into a hug before you move out of the way. something you never did.

"don't... please. it never works out in the end." you shake your head, facing the other way. "for me at least."

"..we could work together, no?" he tried, still oblivious about your feelings towards him.

"only if you're willing to cross your moral boundaries," you looked back and tilted your head. taking a deep breath, you continued, "but you know that neither of us are willing to do that."

he couldn't say anything, because as much as he hated to admit something for once, you were right about that. at this point, he would've thought that literally any extent would've been fine to reach to bring you back.

yet in multiple situations where he's doubted himself before, theres always a line he will never cross.

"...i wish you the best. treat her well because i worked hard." you walked away without him stopping you this time. i worked hard. not we worked hard.

even if you had honestly felt that way, there was no chance the old you wouldve actually voiced that.

and so he watched you slip from his grasp again, only this time, he stopped himself from holding you back from his own will.

yet he swears- the next time he meets you again, he will bring you back.

[drakenology]

Vapors - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings!: use of drugs (weed), smut, a lil comedy, fluff (cause im a cancer and we love romance in this house.) swearing because bakugo, Bakugo aged up (cause we don’t fuck children ‘round here), and sex under the influence of drugs. i also sprinkled some daddy kink up in here so...

author’s note: THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH FOR 100 NOTES ON MY RECENT POSTS!!! I really appreciate all the love, it makes me so happy to see that you guys like my work. Remember I’m taking requests and asks so please don’t be shy! here’s yet another bakugo smut because.. well, i’m obsessed with this man ok?? AND we need more stoner Bakugo idc idc idc. enjoy!

summary: Bakugo is a stoner and you’ve been kind of a goody two shoes for most of your life until the night you smoked with your boyfriend for the first time. 

It was a calm evening at home. You had just finished cleaning the home you shared with Bakugo as he helped by washing the dishes. You sigh, putting away the vacuum as you go and hop in the shower. You loved when he took days off of being a hero to spend some time with you at home. As you take your shower, you hear your boyfriend singing along to his favorite song; you smile as you hear him carelessly belt the notes off key. You loved his stupid ass so much. If you had ever told anyone he was a softie for you he’d probably kill you himself, but you still cherish the moments when he’s at his sweetest. You step out of the shower, drying yourself off as you dress yourself in a t-shirt and fleece pajama pants to keep warm and cozy. You walk out to the living room to a strong stench that completely caught you off guard. Bakugo was sitting on the couch, singing his song in his own little world; rolling a joint for him to smoke. 

“Katsuki! I told you no smoking in the house!” You nag, walking over to him. He smirked up at you, continuing to roll. He was in a really good mood today. He spent the day smoking weed and fucking his hot girlfriend. Even if she was a little uptight, she was fucking gorgeous and she had a good heart. Though he really wished you’d loosen your corset a bit. 

“Relax, shitty woman. I’m taking this outside. Just rollin’ up as all.” He said, concentrating on sealing his joint. He licked the seams of the paper, looking you in the eyes as he did so. He chuckled as he watched your face turn red. 

“You’ve never smoked before, huh?” Kastuki asked you, raising a brow at you as you watched him carefully roll his joint. You sat next to him, folding your arms as you shake your head no. Katsuki smoked, not a lot but whenever he had time to himself and you knew that. You never had a problem with it, you just never smoked yourself. 

“I’d never. I used to think weed was so bad for you. But you smoke it and you seem fine.” You admit, watching him hold a lighter over his joint to seal the edges. 

“Did you wanna try it with me? If not that’s fine, I’m not pressuring you to do anything you don’t want to, princess.” He said, cupping your chin in his hand as he gave you a small peck on your nose. You smile and think briefly. Katsuki knows that you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Ever since you two were kids, you were always so afraid to get into trouble for anything. He remembers when you cried all the way through detention for bickering with him in middle school. It was your first and only detention. You were so hysterical, it was as if someone died. You were just always so sweet and innocent. You never cussed or got too angry and that’s what Katsuki loved about you. You were such a calming spirit. Even though he was the complete opposite, it worked as you balanced each other out. 

“Okay. But just this one night.” You giggle, hopping up out of your seat. He stands up and walks to the balcony of your apartment, smacking your ass as you walk through the sliding door. You two were sat next to each other, watching the sun set over the clouds as he lights up the joint for you both to share. 

“Now I just wanna warn you, please don’t feel like you gotta keep up with me. You can stop when you feel like you’ve had enough. Okay?” He said, taking a drag. You nod, watching him closely to see how to properly smoke a joint. It had to be a science right? He takes another slow drag and blew out the smoke, passing it to you so you can have a hit. You take it and hold it like a cigarette, making Katsuki laugh as he watched his goody goody smoke weed for the first time. You take a puff, one that was a little too big for you to start off and immediately you cough up the smoke. Katsuki pats your back as he handed you some water to help your throat. 

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. You lightly hit his chest, trying to take another drag. 

“Just inhale. You’re overthinking it.” He said watching you slowly take a drag. Sure enough after following Bakugo’s instruction, you blow out the smoke. You felt your body instantly relax, your eyes hazy and low as you watch Katsuki smoke some more. God, he was so attractive. You’ve never sat and watched him smoke before, he’d always leave the room out of respect for you not liking the smoke in the house. But with the way your body feels right now, you think you’d been missing out for sure. You take in his form, he was slouched in his chair with his legs spread out as he smoked. You felt yourself blush as you watched him, in awe of his stature. He passed you the joint once more and you happily took another drag. You loved the high you were feeling, the stars in the sky twinkling much more pristine as then usual. You become a little giggly, your first time being high just seemed so hilarious. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bakugo says looking at you with hazy eyes, your laughter roaring through his ears. 

“I-I’m sorry I just- AHAHAHAHA!” You burst, hunching over laughing at practically nothing. Being high was kinda fun. Bakugo laughs with you, putting out the joint when he was done. 

“That’s enough for you, shitty woman.” He said standing up from his chair. You slowly stand up from your seat as you wobble a little, feeling your balance being thrown off by the influence of weed. He helps you inside, opening the door for you letting you walk in first. As a tradition, he smacks you ass as you walk through the door. You looked especially delicious when he was high, his pants feeling a little tight just looking at you. He plops down on the couch and turned on the T.V, flipping through Netflix as you walked into the kitchen. 

“I’m fucking HUNGRY.” You blurt out, looking through the cabinets for something to snack on. Katsuki froze, unsure that he heard what he just heard.

“D-Did you just fucking cuss?” He asked, completely shocked. Never in his years of knowing you has he ever heard you utter a swear word. He tried to get you to at least say “Damn.” and that never worked. 

“Oh shit... I did just cuss. Oh shit I just cussed again! FUCK!” You laugh, not being able to contain your foul language. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, finally loosening your metaphorical corset. Katsuki laughed. 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asked sarcastically, standing up from his seat on the couch. He walked towards you to see you stuffing you face with every snack from your pantry. You had a seriously bad case of the munchies, crunching away at some potato chips. 

“We gotta go food shopping tomorrow. Ain’t shit in here to eat. UGH why does food taste so fucking good right now!?” You said, cussing with ease at this point. Bakugo inched closer to you shaking his head, snatching the bag of chips away from you as he started to eat them. You frown, grabbing some cookies instead. 

“Gimme one.” Bakugo said, grabbing the cookie out of your mouth with his, taking a bite from it. You blush as you chew your own cookie, watching him look down at you. You never really realized how much taller Bakugo was compared to you. You took your hand and wiped some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, kissing him deeply as you pulled him closer to you. Katsuki kissed you back, picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. The kiss under the influence felt amazing. It was like time froze while you kissed, your lips combined feeling like electricity as you melt into him. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, immensely turned on by this man. You tug at the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, earning a chuckle from Katsuki. 

“You’re horny as fuck right now, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can tell you’re probably soaked right now.” You moan as he left open mouth kisses down your neck, reaching under your shirt to grab and squeeze at your bare breasts. You feel absolutely blissful, your panties soaking at this point. Why did everything feel so fucking good right now? 

“Kachan~” You whine, trying to grind against him as he licked and sucked on your neck, pinching your nipples lightly. You feel as if you’re about to cum just from him playing with your boobs and kissing your neck, your pussy pulsating as you grab onto him for dear life. All the pleasure was becoming so blinding you never wanted this feeling to go away. Katsuki lifts you up again to walk back into the living room with you in his arms, sitting on the couch with you on his lap. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He said, nibbling on your ear. You moan, grinding against his growing bulge, taking off your shirt to reveal your nude breasts to him. 

“You, daddy.” You purr. Katsuki freezes a little, shocked by what you just called him. You were pretty vanilla so hearing you call him daddy turned him feral. 

“Say it again.” He demanded, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan, still grinding your pussy against the tent he was pitching in his pants, running your hands through his hair. 

“I want you, daddyy. Please fuck me.” You whine, getting off his lap as he stood. Your obedience was turning him on so much he just had to have you, not caring where in the house he took you at this point. He slid off your pants and panties in one go, kneeling down to get a closer looks at your wetness. 

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, baby.” he hissed, kissing your inner thighs. “I would eat you out for being such a good girl but I need to be inside you. Now.” He said, standing up to take off his pants and his boxers, his thick length springing out as he pulled them down. You almost drool at the sight, spreading your legs and rubbing your pussy as you imagined his length stretching you out. You were never this sultry in the bedroom, always having Katsuki initiate. But tonight, you had a hunger you needed to be fulfilled. 

“You’re so fucking sexy..” Katsuki moaned, pumping his dick a few times before grabbing your face to kiss you with tongue. He pulled away to grab you by your neck, the dominating look in his eyes making your pussy gush. 

“Bend your sexy ass over.” He growled, letting you go as you obliged. He crouched behind you and gave your pussy a few taps with his dick before sliding inside your slick folds. You have never felt this good. Sex with Katsuki had always been amazing but tonight this was different. You moan sinfully as you felt him stretch you out, his thrusts progressing as he fucked you good. 

“D-Daddyy.” You moan, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. He smacks your ass a few times, quickening his pace as he grabbed you hair to pull it. You lean into the couch, one leg on the seat and one planted onto the floor, hardly being able to keep you stable as your legs shake. You feel your release come quicker than expected, you reaching back to rub your clit in harsh circles. 

“You make me feel so good daddy. Fuck, I love you!” You scream, pushing your face into your hands as Katsuki continued the assault on your g-spot. You start clenching around him, the sound of your moans and skin slapping together filled the living room as Katsuki starts to sweat, a caramel scent filling your nose. 

“So fucking sexy, baby. You gonna cum for me?” He asked, his hard thrusts causing you to see stars. Your moans are the only thing Katsuki can hear, unsatified as he pulled you up to him by your hair. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” He said, fucking you even harder,  you not knowing that was even possible. You can hardly form a sentence, you responding with frantic yeses and moans and I love yous. He smirked, throwing you back onto the couch as he feels you clench around him once more. If he knew you were gonna be this frisky he would have gotten you high a long time ago.  

“I’m gonna cum, daddy! I- oh!” You shriek, cumming around his dick to Katsuki’s delight. He smacks you ass hard as he helps you ride out your orgasm only to quicken his pace again, chasing his own release. 

“Yeah.. ‘M gonna cum, baby. You ready?” He asked sweetly, kissing your back as he pounds you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gasping for air to try and answer him. 

“C-Cum inside me, daddy. Oh god yes!” You moan, biting your lip. He did just that, a strong grunt leaving his mouth as he slowed down his movements, his cum painting your womb white. You sigh, almost missing his dick inside you as he pulled out of you. He picked you up and carried you to your shared room. 

“Can we smoke again later?” You ask innocently. He laughed and walked into the bathroom to start you both a bath. 

“Sure baby.” He said, giving you a sweet kiss. He pulled out the joint you both hadn’t finished as he led you into the bath. He goes to light it before looking to you to see if it was okay to smoke in the bathroom. 

“Fuck it.” You say, laughing as he lights up the joint for you to relax in your bath. 

[elektrantchios]

Title: Fools in love | n.r

pairing: Natasha x F!Reader

summary: Natasha is sick, not that she'll admit it... you step up and take care of her and it has nothing to do with the crush you have on her......

warning: mentions of being sick, fluff, bit of swearing and think that's it

word count: 1.3k

a/n: actually sick myself rn so this was very fun to write 🤧 love writing soft Nat! like i said im sick so expect more mistakes than normal

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

(lets just pretend she has a cold in the gif pls)

It was a rare slow day in the avengers tower, you were sat in the living room, curled up on the sofa with a book. Tony sat close by flickering through the tv channels muttering how nothing was on. In the kitchen a few feet away Natasha was opening and shutting cupboards looking for something.

Every few minutes she would sniff, after about of 6 minute of this you turned around to look at her. He face was pale and her nose was red. “You, okay?” you asks watching her carefully.

Tony hearing this looked over to Natasha too. After seeing the same scene as you he shook his head smirking, “Don’t worry Romanoff is just sick, isnt at right?”.

Natasha turned to Tony pointing a mug at him, “I don’t get sick Stark it would be very unRussian of me”.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Being sick is that bad?”.

Natasha held the bridge of her nose, “I’m going to lie down” she sighed leaving the room but stopping before halfway across. Looking back to you and Tony, “and not because I’m sick but because talking to him is giving me ahead ache”.

Holding in a laugh you watched Natasha leave the room still holding the empty mug. Once you were sure she was out of ear length you laughed. Tony shook off the shock look and laughed too. “If being sick is unrussian it be a very healthy country”.

You put your book down standing up, “Reckon the free health care doesn’t hurt”.

You went over to the kitchen and began to pull things out of the fridge and cupboards. Humming to yourself you ignored Tony watching you from behind. You were being a little selfless, of course you knew Natasha was sick, it was very in character for her not to admit it.

Even if she wouldn’t admit it you wanted to look after her. Make her the soup you always had when you were sick, watching the films and shows that made you feel better. The soup was only a simple carrot and coriander but you hope she’d like it all the same.

By the time you had finished cooking Tony had abandoned the living room and gone to do his own stuff. After getting everything you needed together you headed towards Natasha’s room. It was just your luck her room was at the other end of the tower, meaning you could bump into anyone.

You stopped at her door, listening closely. Through the door you could make out more sniffs and sneezing. You took a deep breath then knocked. The sniffing got louder as Natasha made her way to the door.

When she opened the door, you smiled wide holding up the tray with the soup and tea. “I made soup” you cheered moving past her before she could stop you. “And I know you’re not sick before you say anything, just thought you’d like something to eat”. After putting the tray down on a table you sat down on the arm of a chair.

She shrugged closing the door and walked over to you. She took the actual chair, being so close to her you begged your heart to slow down just in case she heard it.

“Is it Carrot and Coriander?” she asked lifting the spoon.

You nodded chewing on your thumb.

She smiled, eating some. Her smile grew tasting it leaning back more. “My favourite” she had some more, “Did you know that?”.

You shook your head feeling better. Looks like lady luck was on your side after all. “Got you a green tea too, noticed you just left with an empty cup before”.

Natasha opened her mouth to speak. “I know it’s all Tony’s fault” you held up your hands in defence. “I thought maybe we could watch a movie or something” your voice wondered off doubting yourself.

Natasha’s mouth was to full to answer but she nodded and pointed at the tv.

When you had finished setting everything up Natasha was already curled up in bed, when she saw you looking, she blushed a little, “It’s much comforter in bed but we can sit on the sofa if you want?”.

“No. No, the bed is fine” you said feeling yourself heat up. Keeping space between you and Natasha you kept your eyes on the screen, not trusting yourself to look right at her.

Natasha knew she wasn’t fooling anyone, she knew she was sick but after doing most of her growing up in the red room it wasn’t something she could just admit, it would be saying “yes I am sick and weak but please don’t use that against me”.

But you didn’t care about any of that, you took time out of your day and did something for her. She was pretty much in love with you already and this act had just confirmed it. She replayed and replayed seeing you stood in her doorway awkward but so adorable.

And now you were sat in her bed watching a movie she couldn’t follow. Something was happening, something good she didn’t know but something was definitely happening. She stole a look at you, there you were a smile forming on your lips, the smile made her wish she could follow what was happening, maybe she could ask you to watch it again just to see that smile.

Feeling uncomfortable where you sat you sifted across the bed, meaning you were sat closer to her. After the world didn’t end at that moment you felt calmer. The movie went on and you found yourself getting more and more sleepy. Halfway through and you could barely keep your eyes open. Blinking every second willing yourself to stay awake.

When you opened your eyes again the room was dark, the play screen was playing on the loop on the tv. When you tried to move you realized there was a weight keeping you down. Sluggishly you looked through the dark hoping to make something out.

And what you saw made your heart stopped. With her arms wrapped around your middle, head pressed against your chest was Natasha. Seeing and feeling her so close to you was something you never dreamed of having. You’d pay anything to have it again.

Her hair had come loose from the pony she kept it in, covering her face.

You spend several moments just watching her sleep, loving how soft and gentle she looked. Scarily unlike how she normally did, it was something you loved about her, she acted tough and uncaring but really, she was sweet and loving.

You brushed the hair from her face rubbing a strand between you thumb and finger, loving how soft it was. Natasha started to grumble and move around. Panicking you got into a somewhat natural position and faked being asleep. You waited and listened to what was happening, more grumbles came followed by the bed creaking. Then she spoke. “Crap” you felt her untie herself from around you and move over to the edge of the bed.

“You just had to go and wrapped yourself around her didn’t you” Natasha angrily muttered to herself.

You would have smiled if you weren’t so shocked. This had to mean she wanted too to be close to you, maybe like how you did.

“Fucking typical-“.

She was cut off by you sneezing. You shot straight up in bed two more sneezes following the first.

Wide-eyed you look to Natasha who was looking over at you with the same expression. You rubbed your nose, “I think I got your cold” you said sadly.

She blinked at you not moving, you sniffed a bit looking at her too. Then she nodded and climbed back next to you. “Well that can’t be true cause I’m not sick”.

You sent her an unimpressed look.

“Okay maybe I was a little sick” she said holding her thumb and finger an inch away from each other.

Either said a word as she little spooned you. “Let’s watch another film, yeah?” she asked looking at you.

You grinned nodding.

Looks like lady luck was on your side once again.